Nearly every minute of every day and night, I am doing things I really want to do. So, starting Friday evening, the weekend has gone like this:
Friday night. McNeil Canyon’s annual talent show and silent auction. Sam and his friend Ethan acted out a scene from one of the original Pink Panther films with Peter Sellers. I had downloaded Bobby McFerrin’s incredible version of the theme song for them, but the sound engineer (who’s also the very cool school principal) couldn’t find the on switch on my iPod, which was plugged into the sound system. But things worked out even better, because Beth grabbed the microphone and began humming the theme song. The entire audience (at least the adults) joined in. The boys didn’t miss a step. All the kids were amazing and completely unselfconsious performing in front of a pretty big crowd. I purchased a beautiful hand-knit cap in the silent auction. The most unusual item was the peanut butter-bacon pie purchased by the Tobins, whose son Peyton is one of Sam’s buddies.
For dinner, after I got back to town at 9:30, I tried McDonald’s Fish McBites, and they’re delicious! Granted a lot of things would have been delicious right then, because lunch had been a not-inspired salad about noon. But, really, I love the Fish McBites. They’re Alaska pollock, coming from sustainable fisheries, and not greasy or heavily breaded. I came home, whisked together a cocktail sauce, and ate while I watched Woody Allen’s To Rome with Love. That’s a film I can’t recommend, except that Alec Baldwin is always fun to watch. Late bedtime.
Saturday daytime. First thing, coffee (I love it) while I read online Writer’s Almanac, the daily meditation from Richard Rohr, and the New York Times. After that, errands: post office, bank; Safeway for Major Dickason’s coffee, fresh rosemary, and tulips; Sav-U-More for cranberry beans, celery, onions, garlic; Petro for fuel,now $4.30 a gallon. Had lunch with a longtimer friend at Mermaid Cafe, then browsed adjacent Old Inlet books (used, some rare) and bought a copy of Beluga Days by Nancy Lord, who’s teaching the writers’ workshop I’m taking at the college. I have at least 10 books in my reading stack now, and this doesn’t include reading for class. After that I tuned my autoharp and practiced “Campfire Dance,” a gypsy melody that I’m learning so I can play along with the group of women who gather often to play whatever instruments they can come up with. They are kind enough to include me in this. Fortunately the autoharp is completely drowned out by the other instruments (accordion, fiddle, piano, acoustic guitar, electric bass guitar, flute). In the afternoon, I had a hilarious Skype session with my sister Joy.
After that, a fellow spiritual seeker and I got into an extended Skype discussion of Marcus Borg. By the time that ended, I wasn’t in the mood for Side Effects at the Homer Theatre. Instead I worked on research for the next major writing assignment that’s due March 18. I’m writing about the long dresses worn by Russian Old Believer women, who really stand out here because they’re the only people who wear dresses all the time. Everyone else–women and men–wears pants most of the time, except that many Homer fashionistas are wearing ski skirts over pants or tights. Just because they’re in style doesn’t they don’t look very good on everyone. Yes, some men do wear skirts, that is kilts, but only for special occasions.
Sunday so far. After coffee and reading, lots of cooking: bean and red wine soup, enough to last for week, from a NY Times recipe; roasted organic chicken a la Ina Garten, enough to last for days. This is what happens when you’re cooking for one person. While the chicken cooled I walked to Bishops Beach. Good golly! I live here! Still can’t believe it. I love beach-combing, now more with my eyes than to gather sticks and stones and haul them home. Today I noticed a bright turquoise condom and a pile of cigarette butts. Also clusters of small orange balls — looked like little grapes or the salmon eggs we used to fish for trout in the South Fork of the Holston River. And a labyrinth that had been drawn in the sand. The tide had started to come in, and if I had waited for my walk I would have missed it.
Chicken carcass is simmering on the stove now to make broth for more soups.Yoga practice is next in the little hall that connects the rooms of my apartment. It’s the perfect size and free of distractions. After that, I’ll have dinner — some of the chicken–and then maybe roll down the hill to the movie. Life is mighty juicy!
Copyright 2013-2014 Genie Hambrick
The Cheechako Diaries 
Thanks for the thumbs-up on the fish bites at McDonald’s. I had seen this listed on the marquee but really didn’t have the heart to try them. But I will definitely get some this week since I am “home alone.” David is going to Camp Hopewell (Oxford, MS) to prep for the first session of Clean Water U. (Living Waters for the World water project.)
One of my guilty food pleasures is McDonald’s fish sandwich. A couple of times a year, I have to have one. I like to “unsandwich” the fish and scrape off the gooey fake cheese and tartar sauce. I never remember to ask for that to be left off, so the fish bits are perfect.