I should be running. I should be sweating by now on the treadmill, getting rid of toxins and worries and stress and helping my aging body make it a few more years longer. Every intellectual fiber knows this and the moral fiber feels more than a bit guilty because I am not. Instead, I am sitting here with a (large) glass of impossibly good wine, with a full tummy, and listening to Brandi Carlisle and Alison at a volume that can't last in a housing unit that I share with 200+ people.
But that is where I am, genteelly burping an almost perfect meal. I had pan-sautéed salmon that was gently kissed with a dill cream sauce with truffle butter highlights. The green beans were roasted with garlic and sea salt and were crispy tender. The pasta was fresh, from Italy, and lightly dressed with butter from Ireland and herbs. The salad, eaten last, of course, was four kinds of lettuce with a dressing that was even better for the cherry tomatoes and the aged Italian parmesan cheese and the dash of 15 year old Balsamic vinegar. The wine was a Cab, and while I don't normally like Cabs, apparently the answer to that is to buy a 30.00 bottle of it...this is so smooth. The snob would talk about shadows of cherry and currants with sherry flavored oak barrel reflections, or something like that. Or, I would say, "better than that Moscato stuff." And most amazing about all this is that I made it all myself! While I know I should be running, I do have a hard time substituting running for a meal for this. That may be why I have had to give up being a professional beach volleyball player and why I am cute, but slightly pudgy... I think only salmon and leeks would be better, but I couldn't get the recipe from my friend Steve.
What is a bit hard is that I would trade every bit of this meal for a mac and cheese meal with someone, but that is a bit complicated right now and I realize that. But strides were made, or rather, baby steps were made today. I am kind of at peace in that area so that is good. It is amazing what can happen sometimes when people drop their guard and think about what they want and need and what is important. Certainly nothing is easy, but perhaps some things are possible.
You know, with my photo block and total confusion about what I want to do and what I even liked about photography, I have been thinking about past assignments and things that worked. One assignment that I remember that so moved me was as simple of an assignment as I have ever written. I asked a kindergarten teacher to ask her class "what made the leaves change color?" Wow, out of the mouths of babes... And you know what? As I look at leaves in their fall glory, I wonder what makes them change too. I know all about the scientific why they change and fall off, but what about the aesthetic reasons why they are so arresting and beautiful before they do complete their death spiral down to the damp nothingness of the ground? I know leaves need to fall, but why do they do it in such a blaze of color and beauty? Why are we so lucky to see it? There is a tree at SCSU that is obviously sheltered from the frosts and the winds, and it is pictured here as it fights the forces that will strip it of its leaves. I've photographed it before from my office and it is no less arresting this year as it stands alone as a last sentinel of glory, or of fall.
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