Origami crane

In a nod to the need for a good situation to unfold, sooner rather than later, in Palestine...

Blackstickyrice

Not an intentional typo, but of course, black sticky rice can't be separate words. This is one of my favorite things to eat, a coconuty-warm sweet rice dish with fresh mango, a wintry food first discovered during my sojourn in Minnesota now enjoyed on the east coast, where I search for the really wonderful applications of this dish, nothing better in the world, enough said.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sticky_rice
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_rice

Floating islands

Floating islands, no not a reference to the previous day's muse in any way, and not to Magritte's wonderful painting or any sort of supernatural fairy tale activity...or the real natural deal http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Floating_islands

...but rather to a dessert that my mother and her mother loved, and made
for me when I was a wee girl, floating islands, of meringue-ish fame... a lovely old-fashioned thing...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Floating_island_%28dessert%29

Behind

All I will say is more power to J-Lo for bringing a healthy posterior back into fashion. I've had a lifetime enough of hearing girlfriends say "does my butt look fat?"

Veils

Veils are the muse for a day today. Recently, I saw an exhibit of works by Bellini, from his time in Sultan Mehmet's court in Istanbul, and saw this painting of a Queen with an interestingly shaped and fabricked (new word) veil. They have been on my mind since then.

The other day, I was draping my head in one of my scarves in a sleet-rain storm, and someone asked me to tell them a bit about Islam, which I did, bc I have read a bit about it, but they were surprised when A) I took off my scarf and B) I told them I was not Muslim, a funny moment indeed.

I have always loved scarves and veils of sorts, my friends and students and co-workers sometimes call me the scarf lady. I have always thought of it as an extended security blanket of sorts.

My introduction to feminism had a lot to do with veils. Fatima Mernissi writes on Islamic Feminism, and the empowerment experienced by veil-wearers. It is a compelling argument. http://www.mernissi.net/

Of course, there is much hoopla in the news these days about veils. Personally, I can understand it. After years of accepting that sometimes a pretty face or a selected miniskirt could do wonders for my clients in a courtroom where the judge responded to a pretty lady, a veil could be welcome, but perhaps not to those clients...

A friend who lived in the United Arab Emirates for a year or two told me of a time when she was in the supermarket, mixed men and women, and when a fully veiled woman who was flirting, verbally, with a man in public, lifted her veil to him, and was completely naked. Leaves me bewildered, but not surprised, in some strange way.

While in Turkiye 2 years ago, I was astonished to see a spectrum of veil-wearers - from the Saudi-style burkas in black covering all, all, all to women covered from head to toe including veils, but in skin-tight lycra and Manholo Blahniks...and lots in between. They all got along fine, even saw two sisters at a market stall in the Spice Bazaar who were each on one end of the spectrum, which says a lot for secularism in that country, I suppose...

Here is what wikipedia has to say about veils of different sorts:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Veil

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chador

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burka

Paper lanterns

Lanterns remind me of a poster my mum had in her dressing room when I was little. I think it was called "Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose" and it was the picture to the upper right. My mum always said that the girl on the left looked like my childhood friend and that the girl on the right could have been me, but with darker hair...






so here are a host of lanterns for you, some floating on air, some floating on water, all sending a peaceful message, and somehow a message of hope.

Sounds corny, I'll bet, but that is truely how they make me feel when I see them bobbing about in the dark like overfed, stationary fireflies after a seriously good picnic...........................

Yesterday, M. loaned me a lovely little work of art, three antique drawings of paper lanterns floating in a blue sky background - akin to Magritte's floating rock/island...he said he knew I would like it, and I did. It is sitting up on my window now, inspiring me to remember summer despite 5 inches of snow and sleety rain on top of that, which is what we are faced with tonight.

Some time ago, I knew a person who had wonderful memories of growing up in India, making lanterns out of paper for festivals, competing with friends each year...and more recently, I heard about how traditional paper lantern makers are going out of business, as people are buying more fire-protective lanterns in India...so perhaps they are a dying breed. Enjoy!

Muqueca

Today, a particular cafe is my muse, because the food is so great there. A lovely small corner place, in a Brazilian part of my city. Lovely terra-cotta colors on the walls. A small space, a friendly space where I felt welcome and happy.

Now that it is the middle of the night, and I am having a difficult time working on my dissertation edits, I am dreaming of a bit of muqueca to get my brain going again. Muqueca is a stew made only of the juices of the seafood and veg used to make it...also comes with a plate of rice and a bowl of yucca flour soupy stuff to mix in (My dining companion wasn't so sure about this, but I loved it, being the queen of all carbos, after all). This food seems to me to be sure to bring cheer and warmth to you on a wintry day, especially when far from home...the version served in this particular resaurant does not include coconut milk, another version from a different region of Brazil takes that approach, I understand. I particularly enjoyed dipping my fried yucca into the leftover shrimpy red juices...please visit this wonderful and friendly place...

http://www.muquecarestaurant.com/

A side note: The fresh juices were lovely too... (My favorite is a cranberry-caju (cashew fruit) and orange mix).

Marshmallow

Last night I dreamed I ate a ten-pound marshmallow, and when I woke up, the pillow was gone.

*Tommy Cooper

I love the texture more than the taste, for sure. There is something so alluring about the marshy-mallowy-ness, perhaps akin to kneading bread?

For the sugar-restricted child of a diabetic mum that I was, summer with my Granny meant access to the pillowy sticky transformative wonder, the marshmallow. Nothing to do with the herb, all to do with the sugar. Don't even much like them alone, cooked ones are indeed yummy in s'mores, what an American name, but they do produce what my father calls "instant cavity." I also love them in cocoa, which is the primary form I have them in these days, with my father, at the kitchen table looking out over a wintry scene, sipping hot cocoa and crunching the freeze-dried tiny little marshmallow beings in our instant cocoa. A memory I will never forget.

Of course, we spent many an August night, waiting for the moon to rise after dinner, looking out over our rural lake at the stars reflecting on the sheer black pool that was the surface, and dancing around with the marshmallow roasting sticks my father had carved and making ephemeral poetry in the wind with the glowing tips...

Honeycomb

I am sitting here, way too late at night to be working, as good academic-wannabees do, I suppose, and I am looking at the lovely beeswax honeycomb-ish candles given to me by K.'s mother. I love them, and don't know whether to light them eventually, or not...and I am reminded of the times that my Dad or Grandpa would bring home a honeycomb, full of sunshin-y honey for us to marvel at as kids. There was something so majestic about the intricate order created by the bees who made the honeycomb, a miracle of the natural world, I think!



Actually, netmuslims found "allah" written in honeycomb and posted it, clearly a miracle, see below....So that's my muse for today, not honey, not beeswax, but honeycomb...sweets for the sweet, dear reader.

Circles

I have been drawing circles, somewhat compulsively, for years. They are the sum-total theme of all the doodles in my notebooks over way too many years of schooling. I am drawn to circles, as many people are, and it is only natural, given that they occur so frequently in nature. Here are some particularly lovely applications of the circle. I won't get all hippy-dippy about the circle of life, et al., will spare you that. Enjoy.

Ayran (not aryan)

No, this is not a muse for a day that in any way represents aryan youth, et al.

This yogurt-water-salty drink sounds regular, but is eminently refreshing on a hot day...discovered it for the first time during a summertime visit to Turkiye (Turkey). Fell in love and have not turned back. Not to be consumed with fish dishes, for some odd reason. Not to be confused with kefir either, a different bird altogether.


I remember a particularly welcome glass of ayran, in Bodrum city, after a long day walking around the Greek Island of Kos, then back on the ferry, and then through tourist hell and windy, hot streets. There was my ayran, in someone's fridge, and weren't they surprised that an American wanted some of that...very cooling, healthy stuff.

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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ayran

Robin's egg blue

Just in the vein of color-love-fascination. I am remembering my mum today a lot, who loved this color very much. It is one of the amazements of nature, this one. Look for blue in nature, it must have been somebody's special interest in the heavens...like a special pork addition to a bill in US government..."God, please add robin's egg blue to the color repetoire, because I really need that soothing loveliness and you owe me one"

Frost on windows

As a girl waking up on wintry new england days, my mum would always start the day with "Did Jack Frost paint your window last night?" I still look. I am still amazed at his paintings.



Wind and Window Flower
~ Robert Frost L OVERS, forget your love, And list to the love of these, She a window flower, And he a winter breeze. When the frosty window veil Was melted down at noon, And the cagèd yellow bird Hung over her in tune, He marked her through the pane, He could not help but mark, And only passed her by, To come again at dark. He was a winter wind, Concerned with ice and snow, Dead weeds and unmated birds, And little of love could know. But he sighed upon the sill, He gave the sash a shake, As witness all within Who lay that night awake. Perchance he half prevailed To win her for the flight From the firelit looking-glass And warm stove-window light. But the flower leaned aside And thought of naught to say, And morning found the breeze A hundred miles away.