Thursday, September 5, 2013


Yesterday was a day where parenting, politics, poetry, disability and despair intersected (see the title of this blog above), but I won't pull the bow across the violin and let you hear it. Instead, I'll tell you about the pork chops that I dredged in egg and then old-fashioned Progresso bread crumbs and how I didn't give a damn about how processed those crumbs were, how I sauteed the thin chops in olive oil and served them with rice pilaf -- Syrian rice, we called it as children and a bowl of lettuce, tomatoes and vinaigrette. Henry and Oliver loved the dinner, hallelujah and even told me as I fed Sophie in the dining room (they were in the kitchen) where I had moved her to her wheelchair since she had had a huge seizure earlier and couldn't really sit on the stool, even strapped in, but she continued to have them and was drippy, clammy and I felt a pinch of disgust, not at her but at the situation, a pull of anger, the larger Troubles and then I told her, I told myself it's all right, it's ok and

everything you love is right here, in these two rooms.

Literally, everything.


  1. Believe it or not, I was wondering what you were going to make for supper. Now I know. And it sounds really, really good.
    What would we do without food? I know. That's not what you're saying here but still- WHAT WOULD WE DO WITHOUT FOOD? And its comfort.
    Oh, Darling.

  2. Yes.
    Sending love.
    Can you send a pork chop?

  3. The only sea change is the one inside of each of us, I suppose, as you illustrated here.

    Oh Elizabeth. So much love.

  4. Food and love....everything we need right there. I had a blt with lots of mayo yesterday out of excruciating frustration. It was delectable.
    and now back to our regularly scheduled program.

  5. "Everything I love is right here in these two rooms." I'm hugging myself, wanting to send the hug to you. I realized recently that B. and I were in danger of considering eating vitamin-infused cardboard as an atractive alternative to planning, shopping for and preparing dinner. He had lost appetite and I had lost interest. Something told me this was serious, possibly dangerous. I shook myself hard, woke up, made vats of vegetable soup and chili and black bean soup and all manner of good things for the freezer to hold against the times those "i don't know, i don't care" moments wash over us.

  6. Oh love. I am so glad you write. I am so glad there is you.

  7. and even the pork chops are loved
    I miss visiting you and have some catching up to do .....

  8. the older I get the more I believe that love is the only answer.

  9. i'm slowly starting to remember that food is a tool that will help my children feel connected and home and loved. that even if they don't get it now, they will later. so even when the shit hits the fan and i feel like driving thru somewhere with a dollar menu, i must remember that pork chops and rice can be the small nugget that make it okay.

  10. This is so perfect. My kids love the simple dinners like that, too, and I so often forget that. (I mean simple ingredients, not that the experience with Sophie was simple). It is true that when we hold on to what is most important, it has the capacity to fill us up.




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