1 chapter of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and a picture book about polar bears to help my sweet babe to fall asleep
A couple of pages from a piece by Louis Carroll called Feeding the Mind
A few moments of mind quiet and rhythmic breathing during a long afternoon swim
A prayer here and there
An old short and some poems from the writer’s corner here on Miss Corrigan (Wondering how my thought processes have changed since 2012 when I began the blog.)
An hour or so of closet organizing
It was the abused children and Anne Frank during my elementary years. High school was for racism and undergrad was for classism.
Grad school was for the impoverished.
Late twenties was for death and mother earth.
Early thirties was for animal suffering.
I have this place where my sorrows stir. Where if I wallow too long, I get stuck in the muck.
The only way out is…
…a moment in the presence of the amazing
…laughter at the absurd
…a dream reawakened by the hope that someday…one day…
…forgiveness in the arms of the Most Patient Above.
…the tiny spark of love
anxious to ignite
a simple glance to the light
to scatter my fright.
(Post written in 2014-February)
Last night my sister in law had a movie night with her best friends in our shared home. I told one of the friends to check out the Qatiaf recipe if she is interested on my blog. Her response:”You have a blog?! What is it and why don’t I subscribe to it??!”
Her enthusiasm apparently excited something inside me to get back to MissCorrigan. Maybe it had to do with remembering how much I enjoy close friends doing nothing but enjoying the evening. Maybe its the power of nostagia; or the need to make sense of things so not to lose perspective…its so easy to go off track.
Earlier that evening, I lost perspective (for the upteenth time) and yelled at my husband for a couple hours-what was the reason for my anger? Ok-Anything that comes to my mind in anger-I went through the crawl space of my subconscious and found some things in there…
Then I went to sleep and dreamed that I was in the front seat of a roller coaster that I knew was completely absent of track at the end. It went way too fast and ended in a loopdy loop at the end dropping to the ground and ending my life. I felt the very end of it-my life and woke immediately.
But somehow today my mind is clear. It is currently uploading 42,900 memories into my brain theater. I remember how I told a concerned adult at 16, when I felt the first twinges of real sadness (that is part of all lives but too deafening to deal with adequately as a naive human) that the reason I was depressed had to do with some girls at school making me feel bad. Almost 20 years later I am doing the same thing with my husband; telling him the reason for my tumultuous feelings had to do with this or that, him or her, and ultimately he was to blame.
But it never really is about any of that, is it?
Why do the saddest songs have the most enjoyable beats and catchiest lyrics? (See for example Slave Driver(B.Marley))
I also threatened to leave. And it hit me the many times I did just that to people in my life. The times I walked away, couldn’t forgive, gave up, started fresh. Usually I am thinking of those who left me in one way or another. Why at that moment when I yell at my husband do I actually believe that that is what I want? When my head is clear, its absolutely absurd.
“They say time can play tricks on a mem’ry
Make people forget things they knew”
I was mean too, as mean as I could be. I wish I could always be clear. My only hope is to pour my emotion into art, into body, and into mind. And leave the real joy that is real life for the loves of my life. They deserve nothing less and really, neither do I.
Hands in at all times. Except for when they are courageously up in the air in delight.
Eid mubarak y’all. It’s been 5 years since I was a newlywed-a little less since I have been posting as one. I think its safe to say I have at least progressed in some areas, cooking perhaps …I now share a more experienced recipe for Qatiaf and one that is 10x more delicious than Qatiaf (Pancake Pockets with Walnut Filling), although the technicalities are the same and if you would like, can use the original post as a picture reference for such. Thank you to my FIL and MIL for the recipe:
- 3 c. flour
- 1/8 of t. salt
- 2 T of sugar
- 1/2 t. yeast
- 3 T. of dried milk (or 1 c. regular milk)
- 3 c. water at room temperature (or 2 c. water if using regular milk instead of dried milk)
MIX EVERYTHING TOGETHER VERY WELL AND LET SIT OUT FOR A COUPLE OF HOURS
ADD THE FOLLOWING RIGHT BEFORE THROWING THE BATTER ON TO THE SKILLET TO MAKE YOUR PANCAKES:
- 1 t. baking soda
FILLING (Two types)
COMBINE THE FOLLOWING
- 3 c. walnuts crushed
- 1 c. sugar
- 1 t. rosewater or orange blossom water
- 1 T. cinnamon
- Akkawi (جبن عكاوي) cheese (soak in water the night before to remove the saltiness)
- or sweet cheese
- 2 T. sugar
- 1 t. rose or orange blossom water
- 2 c sugar
- 1.25-1.5 c. water
BOIL UNTIL MELTED TOGETHER AND AS SOON AS YOU TURN OFF THE HEAT ADD THE FOLLOWING:
- A couple squirts of lemon
- 1 t. of orange blossom water
ONCE YOUR POCKETS ARE FORMED AROUND THE FILLING AND YOUR SIMPLE SYRUP IS PREPARED YOU ARE ALMOST READY TO SERVE:
FRY BOTH SIDES OF YOUR POCKETS IN A BIT OF CORN OIL OR BRUSH BOTH SIDES WITH BUTTER AND BAKE, WHEN BROWNED DIP INTO YOUR SYRUP AND SERVE IMMEDIATELY
*SPOILER ALERT* I found this to taste like a perfectly toasted marshmallow or a fresh from the fryer funnel cake with powdered sugar. Too good.