40 in forty: find the pretty

I used to scoff when Tom said I didn't taking my plating seriously enough.

"Em, there's a reason plating earns you points on Top Chef. Presentation is important." 

He was right of course -is right- and while I've never used the tweezers I bought for strategically placing micro greens atop a just-seared filet (in fact, I used them to attempt to remove a tick from Nutmeg's neck and then rapidly disposed of them), I have started to pay more attention to how I arrange food on a plate.

sautéed mushrooms with parsley, garlic, cinnamon and thyme; part of tonight's dinner.

When I've spent a long time preparing a dish, it seems fitting to plate carefully. But I've also found that gussying up a sandwich makes it taste even better and that some foods are so drab that they need all the beautification you can offer.

There's a reason spectacularly designed and photographed food appeals to enthused Instagrammers.  There's a reason fancy restaurants don't send sloppy plates to diners' tables. There's a reason people sort through the apples on display, turning each over and around to check for bruises or blemishes, choosing those that shine and beckon with flirty eyelashes.

On a micro level, food has become about so much more than sustenance. From a macro perspective, beauty is always appealing. 

Beauty sometimes gets a bad rap, but I believe that derives from it being equated with or actively demonstrating vapid superficiality or false promises. 

Some beauty is utterly random: a double rainbow that seems to arc across the world; supermodels; children in unadulterated joy; the wild, vibrant hues of tropical fish and birds, colors humans can only try to replicate but never quite manage. Sunsets, the views from the Atchafalaya freeway, the way the light bounces off Roman exteriors, peonies.

Beauty often grows from passion or commitment too: to a canvas, a garden, the perfect stiletto, lacy underthings. A moment frozen in time by a patient photographer, the one cookie from a dozen that is perfectly round and whose chocolate chips are evenly distributed, the lily shoot I found today in my front yard, from a bulb I'd planted hopefully several weeks ago.

And a sense of what is beautiful often evolves with greater understanding of what any given thing can offer.

Take earthworms. I imagine I gave approximately zero craps about earthworms before I started gardening and composting. I sure as heck did not consider them pretty. But spend some time watching what they do, and how they make our earth and gardens infinitely healthier. Understanding that because of the worm's appreciation of decaying matter and the bacteria helping the rotting process along, we get aerated soil and an environmental means of disposing of our food waste. Those industrious annelids are, in fact, stunning.

a tulip in my yard

Beauty softens the heart, speaks to the soul, widens the eye, encourages imagination to soar. We are drawn to pretty things for a reason, and the more we pay attention and allow ourselves to be moved, the richer our lives become. 

An easy starting point is on your plate. Make it lovely, eat well, tend to yourself and your loved ones. Find the pretty.

grilled peaches with burrata and mint

40 in forty: wear great shoes

When at all possible, don some shoes that make you want to kick up your heels or that put a smile on your face!

A promising emptiness

I'm here tonight as if an obstinate magnet, pulled toward the light of an empty page like a moth that spots a beacon on a dark and stormy night. He flies toward it, hopeful, determined, in need.

I can hardly keep my eyes open and I'm already in bed, but unfortunately, today was another mostly-dreadful one. And so I am here. Flitting over the promising emptiness of a white expanse and an eager cursor. 

The page asks nothing, and it is infinitely patient. It is an open embrace that never tires. It doesn't tick or talk or melt down or whine. It doesn't judge or pressure. It accepts truths and lies, ugliness and beauty. It is not defensive or harsh or rude. It never glances subtly toward a clock or a phone. It asks nothing but offers everything. And so I am here. 

In front of this empty slate, I am never cold. I am not lonely. Or overwhelmed. Or exhausted. I pour onto the page that my littlest boy called me a jerk, that he kicked me, that I snapped and spent a decent amount of time crying on the kitchen floor because this week has been relentless and "jerk" was the last straw. In doing so, I release these things and can start to let them go. I come to a peace, of sorts, with the underbelly of this life that is mine. The parts that aren't pretty but are real, the parts I don't like but must handle, the parts that others don't often discuss but must surely experience too. And so I am here.

I also record the moments that light my heart on fire: the graceful way Jack received the news that our pug would be staying in Brooklyn; that amidst his tears, he first asked "Is Percy happy?"; and secondly, "How will I tell S? Can you help me, Mom?" (S is a friend who adores Percy and sometimes had him sleep over.) I can hold on to these twinklings with specificity and accuracy, integrating them more fully into memory and heart. 

When I write, my cat sits by me. Almost always. He purrs like a gentle motor, bathes himself, falls asleep, snores in a subtle, irresistible way. He lets me reach over and play with his little pink toe pads. They're like warm jelly beans. I think he likes when I write, think he likes the positive zen flow over and around us as a page fills. I do.

The page never suggests that I am too much. It doesn't blink when I rage to it, doesn't mind if I cry. It welcomes jokes and also deeply serious privacies. It is consistent and punctual, generous and reliable, even when little else seems to be. It is enlivening and comforting and the best tool for unearthing self-understanding and acceptance that I've discovered. And so I am here.
~~~
This is a Finish the Sentence Friday post, inspired by the prompt "Sometimes, I wonder about my writing. I keep on and on because..." This week's link-up is hosted by Kristi Campbell.