Friendship

“Are you a writer?”

~ Bri Sperry-Renfrew ~ 6 Comments

“Are you a writer?” the author asked as I handed her my books to sign. They were “my books” because the young(er) man with the barely discernible grey streaking back to his slightly sloppy man bun, had given a “Buy first!” directive at the conclusion of his author introduction. His words, having received a flittering of insider-ish laughter, fluttered down upon front-row me. I already held the author’s works in my lap, because I had nabbed them from the nearby display table to peruse while waiting for the reading to commence. I knew I would purchase them. These days I don’t need permission to go to book readings or to buy books. 

Now I was handing my guilt-free purchases to the woman who had made the words come to life with her friendly, slightly drawling voice.

I’m sure her question was prompted by the fact we had been introduced by her college friend and fellow-author, Jennifer. Jennifer and I are new friends and members of the same book club. She is a published author and the reason I came to this reading (instead of road-tripping to Tombstone, another of my guilt-free choices for the day.) Jennifer can answer that question affirmatively. Most affirmatively. I’ve read her books, too. But me?

No. Not the way these bonafide authors’ experiences define this question. Still, I fumble at the pleasantly proffered query.  As I am sometimes prone to do, I fall back on my hallowed status of Mother. “My daughter is,” I say, surprising myself with the confidence of my assertion.  I know my daughter’s grad school Creative Writing pursuits, while likely appreciated, are of little significance to this author. But, to me, there is a voluminous intricately woven world in those pursuits. I know how I influenced those pursuits. This is no prideful, self-congratulatory knowledge. My daughter’s writing comes from the wounded life I passed on to her. Her own keen sensitivities perceived the word-nursing I applied to my own pain.  They nudged her towards the academic realm shared by the hand that slides my signed purchase towards me.

This morning I wondered if I could find my password. I almost felt like a traitor, returning here. I couldn’t even remember my last entry. The one I wrote after my last visit to the same bookstore. image

 

 

My Great Experiment

Image ~ ~ Bri Sperry-Renfrew ~ 10 Comments

“I learned this, at least, by my experiment: that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.”  Henry David Thoreau

“Don’t be too timid and squeamish about your actions. All life is an experiment.”  – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Escape a false sense of community. Reconnect with my inner instincts and aspirations. Use my gifts. Stop wasting time. Make more time for face-to-face relationships and “old-fashioned” correspondence (think e-mail). These are some of the reasons which prompted me to give up Facebook for an indefinite amount of time (a year?).  Commence eye-rolling if you must. I know it might seem selfish. It might be an inconvenience for some. It might not make sense.

I don’t know if my experiment will bring me the things I seek, but so far I have maintained my reading goals (see my new “Reading Log” page for what I’m currently reading), face-timed for two hours with a friend I hadn’t talked to in nearly 20 years, and written in my journal almost every day.  I have had lunch dates with friends and family members and appreciated the interaction in ways I had come to take for granted.

When I recently messaged another dear friend  and mentioned that I had spent my morning reading, writing and thinking about future blog topics, she celebrated the “fog clearing” for me. She has agonized with me through this past year’s turbulence.  She has shared my sorrow and bewilderment over how I lost any desire to read or write – two of the treasured mainstays of most of my life.  And with her perceptive observation of the “fog clearing” she has assured me that there is hope that my experiment might truly turn out to be great.

J is for: JUST The Best Recipe Ever

~ Bri Sperry-Renfrew ~ 6 Comments

JUST in case you didn’t happen to get a copy of the 1993-94 MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) recipe book with my friend, Lee’s, recipe for chocolate cake, I’m re-printing it here and including a few of my little changes.  If I could eat only one thing for the rest of my life this would be it.  FYI, I usually only use about half the frosting that the recipe makes.  I use the rest on vegetables or whatever…JUST kidding!  Maybe.  Seriously, though, the key to this recipe is not getting the frosting too thick (I usually don’t use the full pound of powdered sugar) and putting it on the cake while it’s still hot, so it sinks in and makes more of a nice glossy icing.  JOY!  JOY!  JOY!

JUST the Best Chocolate Cake Ever

(That’s what I call it; my friend is more humble than that.)

Cake:

2 sticks margarine (I always use butter instead.)

1 cup water

1/4 cup cocoa (I use dark cocoa.)

2 cups sugar

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 tsp soda

1/2 tsp salt

2 eggs, well-beaten

1/2 tsp vanilla

1/2 cup buttermilk (I usually sour 1 % milk with vinegar, but prefer buttermilk if I have it on hand.)

Frosting:

1/2 cup margarine (Again, I use butter.)

3 Tbsp cocoa (Again, dark.)

5 Tbsp milk

1 tsp vanilla

1 lb. powdered sugar

1 cup chopped nuts (optional)

Cake:  Preheat oven to 400.  In a medium saucepan over medium-high heat bring margarine, water and cocoa to a boil.  Set aside.  In mixer bowl, mix together sugar, flour, soda and salt.   Add cocoa mixture to sugar mixture.  Add beaten eggs and buttermilk mixed with vanilla.  Beat well, pausing to scrape sides and bottom of bowl.  Pour into a greased and lightly floured 9 x 13* cake pan.  Bake for 25-27 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean.   Prepare frosting while cake bakes.  Frost while still warm.

Frosting:  Bring margarine, cocoa, and milk to a boil.  Add powdered sugar and vanilla and blend until smooth.  Top with nuts (if your husband and kids will let you get by with it.)

*Again, I switched things up a little.  You’re supposed to use a 9 x 14 “sheet cake” pan, but I JUST prefer a thicker cake.

(J Day: A to Z Blogging Challenge April 2012)

Friendship (without the bread) is…festive!

~ Bri Sperry-Renfrew ~ 2 Comments

Am I the only female who fears fouling a friendship by foregoing Friendship Bread?  (By the way, welcome to “F Day” of the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.)

Am I the only one who gets palpably flustered when I see a friend approaching with  a Ziploc bag of yeasty goo?  I’m not faulting the friend; it’s me.  I’m terrible at saying, “No.”  When I see that fragrant bag of starter, I see Failure with a capital F.  I know I will fail the friend and the floppy bag of bread waiting to be born.

My friend, Ruth, never approached me with a Ziploc bag, but she did graciously give me a recipe or two.  Conveniently, one of them starts with an F – Festive Tossed Salad.  Actually, she emailed it to me on December 9, 2004.  I’ve since re-typed it to share with other friends, but I’ve kept the original one I printed off.  Ruth and I now live 1,000 miles apart, but every time I pull that faded, stained, messy old thing from my recipe box, I have a chance to think of the lovely friend and talented cook that gave it to me.  I think I’d even let her approach me with a Ziploc bag.

Festive Tossed Salad

Dressing:

1/2 cup canola oil

1/4 cup sugar

1/3 cup red wine vinegar

1/4 tbsp finely chopped red onion

1 tbsp lemon juice

2-3 tsp poppy seeds

1 tsp prepared mustard

1/2 tsp salt

Combine all ingredients in a blender, food processor or salad dressing shaker and blend thoroughly.  Refrigerate until needed.

Salad:

6 cups torn Romaine or red leaf lettuce

4 cups spinach

1 cup crumbled Feta cheese

1 cup shredded Swiss cheese

1 medium pear or apple, cored and cubed

1 cup dried cranberries

1 cup chopped cashews

2 bacon strips, cooked and crumbled

In a salad bowl, combine the lettuce and other salad ingredients.  Drizzle with desired amount of dressing.  Serves 8-10.