Plethora

My favorite holiday is probably Thanksgiving--a simple communal practice of gratitude for one's abundance that has largely escaped corporate commercialization.   No expectations except eating a plethora of harvest dishes with people you feel completely comfortable with.  It's the perfect 

"forgetting one's tight place" holiday.  Or at least it has been for me, as a someone whose life from birth has been largely defined by tight places.

We even went around the table and told what we were grateful for (thanks to G visiting with her husband, G from Charles Olson's town.)

I spent Thanksgiving Eve at the Union Square green market picking out a pie to bring to our Rhode Island feast, hosted by my mother-in-law.  I wish I had had occasion to gather more items, because look at the offerings!--but everything would be cooked by the time we arrived on Thanksgiving afternoon.

The apple pie we did buy was from a vegan stand called Body and Soul.  To taste the crust you wouldn't suspect it had no butter in it.  Can an apple pie be nuanced?  This one was.  In fact, their pie was so delish I feel compelled to go back to the stand and gushingly tell them how much we all loved it.  (I believe the ingredients included lemon grass.)

Another stand-out, G's homemade pumpkin pie with the crushed pecan crust.  

I am grateful for you, GITP readers--and Lara, of course.

G's signature pumpkin pie.

G cutting the first slice. 

raise me a dais of silk and down

i would be bringing you this if i could, julie.

here's a poem in honor of julie turley's birthday.

rosetti knows how to lay it on thick, and that's what i wish for julie's next year:  layers of silk & down, carvings of peacocks and feathered nests, golden grapes and thickly fruited trees--all things good and beautiful.

unthinkable abundance.

& i know she's not looking for the kind of love rosetti talks about here, but i wish that she will find that love of her inner artist she's been searching for.

i'm lucky to have her as a friend and a co-blogger, and i laugh and cry every time i read one of her soulful stories.  take some time to read what she's written this week in a fount of creativity.

A Birthday

BY CHRISTINA ROSSETTI

My heart is like a singing bird

                  Whose nest is in a water'd shoot;

My heart is like an apple-tree

                  Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;

My heart is like a rainbow shell

                  That paddles in a halcyon sea;

My heart is gladder than all these

                  Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a dais of silk and down;

                  Hang it with vair and purple dyes;

Carve it in doves and pomegranates,

                  And peacocks with a hundred eyes;

Work it in gold and silver grapes,

                  In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;

Because the birthday of my life

                  Is come, my love is come to me

Prune with Professor Lawrence

Can I write about my lunch with Claire in the wake of the horrific Colorado shootings?  In asking this question, have I already trivialized the shootings?

I just had to say something.

Anyway, this has been an unexpected week of reunions.  On Tuesday, I wrote a post about reconnecting with two fellow BYU students who I haven't seen in 29 years.

Then, our first ever GITP blogger Claire asks me if I'm going to be around this week, because she is coming to the city, and asks me to accompany her to Prune, which is a tiny "destination" restaurant on East 1st Street.  The chef, Gabrielle Hamilton, even wrote a memoir from which a movie starring Gwyneth Paltrow as Gabrielle is in the works.

 I met Claire there yesterday with much anticipation.  I hadn't been to Prune since . . .  I went with Lara and C, when Lara came to the city to do a poetry reading at Arlene Grocery.   Claire ordered a riesling which she said tasted like "summer."

On our table was placed salted celery and olives.  Do you see the young woman with the scarf tossed insouciantly around her shoulders.  She was wearing an amazing dressed.  At one point, a photographer approached her and her lunch companion and had them sign waivers cuz he wanted photos of them both eating at Prune.  

Claire ordered a white gazpacho which tasted like a "garden."  She also got the beets which were surrounding by a sauce which "dismantled me."  I'm serious.

 I ordered this open-faced Greek salad sandwich which was a thrill--no quotes here.  Still, I wish I'd ordered two small plates like Claire.

For dessert, we had the mascarpone ice cream with salted caramel croutons and the churros and chocolate sauce.  The dishes, taken together--every single thing about them and being with Claire--made for a perfect  summer narrative.

The same day, an old friend from Yuma (who I actually didn't meet until I got to SLC) alerted me that he was coming into town.  Four old friends arriving unexpectedly in one week!  Is this the abundance that Julia Cameron talks about?

In light of all of this, I'm realizing how lucky I really am, on the heels of some unexpected bad news this week.  Because my news pales in comparison to what just happened in Aurora.  My heart goes out to everyone who has been touched by the Colorado tragedy, including everyone who might be reading this blog.