Scraps and Snippets ~ Flawless Brussels Sprouts

Brussels Sprouts. So tasty. Unless they are wimpy mush. This guarantees no mush. Preheat oven to 425.

Peel the top layer off, chop the dry stem end off. 

Bring water to a boil. 

Drop the sprouts into the water and boil for two minutes. 

Grease a pan large enough to hold your sprouts.

Place sprouts in pan and drizzle with a little oil and spice of choice. I used garlic flavored oil. 

Roast for approx 25 minutes. Some of the outer leaves may crisp and darken which only makes them more tasty. Check sprouts for preferred texture. If you want them more tender, add a few more minutes.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Strange Thoughts...

If you ran away and joined the circus, what would your role be? Would you run a concession? Would you train elephants? Be a clown? Ringmaster? Why? 

I would NOT be a clown. I would NOT want to taint another generation of innocent children. In case you don't pick up on the tone, clowns are not my favorite critters. FEARFUL and a little creepy. But, I did have a bad clown experience. I was five...something unexpected and loud happened, I spilled my popcorn. And another incident at a circus had me spilling a very large, very sticky pop down the back of the person in front of me. But that had nothing to do with clowns.

What I would do? Feeding peanuts to elephants. Yes. Low level trapeze. Six feet off the ground. I'd do that.  Maybe five feet.

 

 

Glimmer...

It feels like the world is growing darker. Deception is piled up like steaming piles of excrement wherever we turn. Opinions are becoming so deeply ingrained that the only way to win an argument or make a point is through dramatic emotional attack or physical violence. 

Why does our society think screamed words or social media bullying or fists of fury are going to buy them respect, converts or supporters? Or is the crown "earned" when standing over a bloodied victim and donning the self-awarded title of King of the Mountain? 

I am so grateful for the glimpses of good that we can still see in the aftermaths. Those who treat others with respect and kindness....even if that other person doesn't agree or will ever agree. I am so grateful to see forgiveness change the darkness to dawn. I am awed by the moments where I witness true love for humanity and life. I'm encouraged by those who choose to get up every morning, in spite of their struggles, and make the effort to go out and face the day. And smile, and offer kind words, and a human touch, and hope in a very, very dark world. A small flame of light puncturing the darkness, adding a glimmer where there had been only dank.

There is the truth. Right? Life matters. Living it matters. Treating it as precious and fleeting and beautiful, even in the raw grittiness of it, matters. Please. As you struggle with your emotions and fears, your doubts and your sorrows today, remember that life matters so much. And that the way you treat life makes ripples that lap into eternity. Choose to live life today and to make a difference in someone else's life. Reach out to, touch, laugh with, cry with, smile at, extend hope to, hug or love someone today. 

Prayers

Blather. Just can't do it.

My violin teacher went to Boston to support his dad as he participated in the Boston Marathon.

They are okay, even though his dad was very near one of the explosions.

My prayers are with those who were injured, those who's lives will forever be impacted by this afternoon, and those who lost a little more innocence, a little more peace and gained a new layer of fear.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Uhhh. Desert Island Food List

Hmmm. What shall I write about? 

Plinky Prompt time. But I don't care for the the wording. So I'm tweaking it. 

What seven foods would I require if I was stranded on a desert island. Note, not dessert, desert. But... since I brought it up. 

Dark chocolate

Peanut butter

Oatmeal

Fruit....yes...I know...but there will be fruit on a deserted island. If I had a preference, I'd say raspberries, pineapple, mango, orange and blueberry would be lovely. 

Black beans

Organic heirloom tomatoes, spinach and lettuce would be nice, too. Maybe a little kale and some arugula. (How about I get stranded with a bunch of seeds so I can have a lovely garden?)

Cilantro

Odd combo isn't it?

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Squeaking Pains

Well, good news and bad. 

My epiphany was kind of, really, an epiphany. 

My counting discovery that the one, two, three, four or one &, two &, three &, four & can also become simply one, two, three, one, two, three. 

However, one is supposed to actually play the notes like that...one, two, three. Playing my practice pieces revealed that I was counting one, two, THREEEEEEEE.  one... which gives the songs a lovely wheeze.

So. We did some clapping. And some breaking sections down into tiny little three note segments. 

When he was somewhat satisfied that I could indeed clap one, two, three and play three notes in a row, he thought he'd tackle my self-confidence. 

Trust me, self-confidence and the violin are not comfortable friends. The violin definitely lets me know immediately when it's not happy with me. I guess I could call it a hypercritical little thing. 

However, Mr. Teacher said that making faces when I hit a sour note, or cringing when I poise to play, or laughing my way through a dismal, mistake-filled performance all scream that I don't believe I can master this little, wooden beast. Can you imagine the message I'd send if I did actually toss my cookies on his shoes? 

So, he played a little game with me. Told me to pretend that he was a Donald Trumplike entity and he could make or break my career. But that he knew nothing about music. I was supposed to play 5 measures of this simple little song as if I was nailing and had nailed it. Because he wouldn't know any difference since he was music illiterate and the only way he'd know something was wrong was if I gave him non-verbal clues. 

I reverted to a childhood tactic (real story) and asked if I could play from the hallway. He asked me if I'd ask that of Donald Trump. I said I would because I couldn't possibly play in the same room as the hair. I got a look, then I played. And I cringed through the entire thing. It was wicked awful. I peeked over at him. He told me Donald Trump fired me and told me a story about confidence being as important or even more important than skill or talent. He also told me that a perfect performance is almost impossible to pull off. No matter how much practice, preparation, talent and skill, there are so many things that can go wrong that perfection is so not going to happen. Amazingly, perfection or lack of, is not even going to be noticed by the average music lover. What they will notice is my lack of confidence. 

So. There you go. Counting and confidence. On my to-do-list.