Onion Tears

Onion Tears

The onions make me cry - twice.

The first tears come
as I slice their solid flesh
into curved white fingers.
I know that a candle flame
will burn away volatile oils
released by the sharp knife
and rising toward my eyes.
But I forgot
and now it is too late.
I can only stop the tears by
finishing the task.

I wash my hands,
and splash cool water into my eyes
rinsing away the tears.
Then I stir the onions
over low heat
with a little oil
and a dash of salt
(this time not from my eyes).

I let them cook
while I turn my attention
to foods of a friendlier persuasion,
only occasionally
giving them a stir
as they turn from
bright white
to a duller hue
gradually
becoming more yellow
then darker
around the edges,
their sharp smell
mellowing
as they cook,
until finally
their soft, squishy
earthy-bronze color
tells me
they are
finally
the sweet
caramelized
almost-jam
that brings me
tears of delight
when I eat them.


[inspired by the task of "melting" onions to put on a rustic onion tart for this weekend's potluck.]

Pondering in July

A couple of quotes from Natural Capitalism: Creating the Next Industrial Revolution by Paul Hawken, Amory Lovins, and L. Hunter Lovins

"The laws of Congress and the laws of physics have grown increasingly divergent, and the laws of physics are not likely to yield"
Attributed to author Bill McKibben

"While it is unwise to believe in any one environmental projection of the future, it is important to bear in mind that nature bats last and owns the stadium."

[the title of the post is, of course, based on Brain's question, "Pinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering?"]

A Greased What?

[a memory evoked by Sunday Scribblings]

I figure most Americans have heard of a "greased pig" contest, even if they haven't seen one (and fewer have participated). Having grown up in a part of the country where lots of hogs are raised, I did see a number of greased pig events. For those who have never had the honor, allow me to describe. A young pig is, yes, greased up and set loose in an enclosed area. A number of contestants, usually also young, enter the enclosed area and the one who manages to catch and hold onto the slippery beast wins. It sounds simple enough, but holding on is so much harder than you can imagine.

I never tried it my self. I did, however, participate in a game that is even more rare.

As a teenager, I worked at a small summer camp. One summer the camp moved to a site that we had never used before. The counselors, junior counselors, and counselors-in-training (CITs) arrived a couple of days early for introductions and to set up cabins, to unpack materials and acquaint ourselves with the new-to-us facilities before the campers arrived.

Unlike the previous camp that had a lake to swim in, this one had a pool. We were, unfortunately, the first group to use it that year. The pool was a mess. You couldn't see the bottom, even in the shallow end. Needless to say, we could not let anyone swim in the pool in that condition, it would not have been safe.

A number of us spent a lot of time mucking out the pool during the first few days. We pulled out more leaves than you can imagine, we made sure the filters were kept clean, and we ran the pump 24 hours a day. Eventually, we started to see progress. We kept using the pool vacuum and skimmer, and finally we could see the bottom in not only the shallow end, but also the deep end.

The counselors-in-training, those of us who were 13 and 14 years old, had put in a lot of hours toward making the pool usable. The camp director arranged a treat. We were to be the first to use the pool. We'd have a pool party one evening, with a cook-out and a promise of something special. We were very excited.

Released from our duties helping out with the younger campers, we got into our swimsuits, threw t-shirts over them, and headed to the pool that evening. While one of the supervising counselors fired up the grill, the "surprise" of the evening was announced. We were to have a greased watermelon.

A what? I'd never heard of a greased watermelon.

It turns out that it was a game. It is part "greased pig" (see above), part water polo, and part rugby. We first divided the CITs into two groups: those who wanted to take part in the insanity, and those who were either too timid or too smart. I was part of the first group and we sorted ourselves into two teams. I think there were about 5 or 6 on a side.

Into the deep end of the pool went both teams. Someone had been busy rubbing shortening over the surface of a large watermelon. It then joined us floating in the deep end. The goal of the game was for to get the greased watermelon to our "goal" on one side of the pool, while trying to stop the other team from doing the same.

Cue the chaos.

It was a blast, but it was very, very, very, very tiring. And in the effort to stay afloat, one has to kick. When we all converged on the watermelon, we unfortunately kicked each other as much as the water. And although the watermelon couldn't wiggle the way a pig can, it also had no appendages to get a grip on. It was just big and round. And very, very slippery.

I don't remember much about the game other than that it was a lot of fun. I think one team eventually scored, but it didn't matter which one. We were ravenous by then and happy to call it quits.

A great time was had by all. And there was another, unadulterated watermelon that had been held in reserve. It made a delicious dessert.

A Couple of Books

I recently finished these books:

The Dragon Charmer
by Jan Siegel
2nd in a trilogy of books that started with Prospero's Children
purchased in March 2003, read in its entirety in June 2007
Once I started this book, I remembered that it took me some time to warm up to Prospero's Children. So I gave the sequel a while to get going. But. It. Took. For. Ever. I was so tired of the characters that at several points I didn't really care what happened to them, I just wanted to finish the book. The sentences are lovely. The descriptions can be intense and even evocative. The story just isn't there. And I am not willing to give book 3 in the trilogy a chance. The characters can just play it out on their own.

Natural Capitalism: Creating the Next Industrial Revolution
by Paul Hawken, Amory Lovins, L. Hunter Lovins
purchased in May 2000, started reading it in summery 2000, finished July 4, 2007
... in which the authors show how companies that operate in ways that prevents net loss of natural resources not only make money, but do so with an edge over companies that waste natural resources. In addition, that the principles necessary to save natural resources also work to improve the human condition and local economies.
This was a good book - I'm just not a regular reader of non-fiction. It took me forever to get through it because I kept putting it aside for months at a time. But I did learn from it and have some interesting facts rolling around in my head. Some may eventually come out as blog posts.


The good news?
I'm going on vacation later this month and during those 2 weeks I expect to read more than a dozen easy-read novels, some by authors tried-and-true in the craft of entertaining me. I can't wait!

Astrological Consideration

[inspired by Sunday Scribblings]

There are many types of astrology, I have only passing knowledge of western sun-sign astrology such as found in the daily newspapers, and Chinese astrology, introduced to many of us on our restaurant place-mats.


Astrological Consideration

When I contemplate my luck,
am I lion or a rabbit?
Is my Leo side out front?
or is the Chinese hare my habit?

Horoscopes in newspapers
explain to me my fire sign.
Charismatic leadership,
appreciating all things fine.

The noble Leo seeks the stage,
knowing that I'm always right.
Defusing crisis situations
with my creativity and might.

The Rabbit born in water yin
is more a background kind of role,
creating peaceful atmospheres
to block the world out, on the whole.

Water Rabbit loves solitude,
but communication skills are great.
Quiet, reserved, a delicate soul,
confrontation is what I hate.

Both lion and rabbit are excellent hosts.
They appreciate details and the arts.
Luckily, it seems my whole
is greater than the sum of my parts.