Category — Family

I got to go hiking today with my mom and her good friend Karla.  We walked the White Cloud trail that winds through the hills around Sun Valley.  The views are really great.  I grew up here, and the hills and mountains make me feel alive and at home all at once.

The wildflowers were still out a little bit, the mullen was everywhere, we saw two little chipmunks, and the morning rain made the hills smell like sagebrush.  The best part, however, was spending time with Mom and Karla.

The two women have known each other for probably 20 years and have been good friends for the last 10.  I like spending time with them.  They enjoy each other immensely and ask nothing in return.  Do you know how rare that is?  How lovely?  There’s no pretense, no performing.  Just being.

When I measure my friendship – how good a friend I am to others – this is the measure I use.  Can I just love the other person?  Can I let them be themselves and give myself permission to do the same?  That’s what I see when I spend time with Mom and Karla.  It’s beautiful.

Thank you, ladies!  You are beautiful.  Your friendship is something bright and wonderful in this world.

I’m not the only person in my family who loves pastry.  I come by it honestly.  We all do.

Today, which is my little sister’s 30th birthday (Happy Birthday Cath!), my mom decided to do something special – I mean really special.  She decided to make tortones.

For those of you who aren’t in my family, here’s what a tortone is:  Prunes in fried pie dough.  Yummy.

This is something that came from my Great Grandmother Harame who came to the US directly from France.  I remember playing the piano for her in her house.  I remember her sitting next to me and playing that upright piano.  She would write sheet music with the words of songs from France and those of us who played piano would try to learn.  Her hands were so little that she couldn’t reach a full octave, but she so enjoyed playing that it was a delight to watch.

Today when we were making the tortones, Mom pulled out a hand-written recipe and I teared up as I saw Grandma Harame’s handwriting, the same as it was on the sheet music, friendly and instructive.

It’s full of helpful hints like “try to make it your own” and “good luck with your tortones.”  Actually, as I’m sitting here reading the recipe, I’m realizing that I’ve misspelled “tortone” my entire life.  Grandma’s letter says “tourton” as though that is the plural!  Wonderful!  Well, I’ll probably continue calling them “tortones” anyway, the way her name changed from Haramis to Harame when she and her Greek husband came to the US.

So, here are some pictures of the tortones in process and finished:

We stewed the prunes, placed them in the dough like raviolis, and deep fried them (I swear this might be the one reason to own a deep fryer).

You can sprinkle with sugar or just shove them in your mouth while they’re scalding hot.  Sooooo good.

Sidenote, my family just realized what I was blogging about and nearly had a heart attack when they realized I was giving out the recipe.  Lucky for you I’m a fan of open-source recipes.  So, if you can read Grandma Harame’s writing, and come up with a functioning recipe, let me know.  They’re delicious.

These last couple of months have been packed full of life lessons for me. Perhaps the most astounding set of lessons has come from my break-up and friendship with Leigh.

You know the joke about the lesbian second date? Here it is for all the noobs. “What does a lesbian bring to a second date?” You ready for it? “A U-Haul.” (When Leigh and I got together, my mom asked me if I’d brought the U-Haul. Awesome.)

It’s almost as cliche to say that all lesbians stay friends after they break up. I know it’s not true, but sometimes it feels that way. The emotional appeal of staying friends with someone you’ve been close to is strong for two women. I’m not sure, however, that very many take it to the level that Leigh and I have.

After we tried out a traditional break-up (I said I was leaving, Leigh packed my clothes and a kitchen chair – yes a kitchen chair – into suitcases) we had a good long cry and a good long laugh. Then we talked about how important we are to each other, and how much both of us want to make sure that our friendship comes out on the other side, at least as strong as it was before the break-up. We talked about the logistics of who would live where, and for how long, and started through the process of dividing the possessions that we’d merged.

We also did what any other 21st century couple would do: we created a facebook page. We’d seen friends go through tough break-ups and we didn’t want our friends taking sides, feeling awkward (we kept that honor for ourselves), or wondering what was going on. It also helped us start the difficult conversation about what we were going through.

When we got together, we paid a great deal of attention to the practical aspects of being together. We’d known each other for a couple of years and been good friends for about a year. The night we finally got together, Leigh and I spent four hours talking about how much we liked each other, how getting together could change our friendship, and even what a break-up would look like – nobody said anything about kitchen chairs. Only then did we move forward. (We’re both lawyers, so it’s remarkable we didn’t sign contracts that night.)

Our break-up, has given us the opportunity to try something new – to tread a different path from the one we mapped out the night we got together. One of the greatest parts of our relationship has shown itself, ironically, in our break-up.

I live in Leigh’s house. It was our home, but it’s Leigh’s house. While many women might have told me I had to pack my shit and leave, and I might have left and not looked back, Leigh and I have been able to show each other a level of love and respect – and to be gentle with each other in a way we didn’t quite manage when we were together. I’m not sure if it’s because of the new life perspective I have, or the fact that I’m leaving, or Leigh’s new prescription, but I’m very grateful for it.

It’s been about three months since we created the facebook page. I’ve lived at Leigh’s that entire time, selling my house, quitting my job, moving my things to storage. I feel closer to her than ever, though I know that the break-up was the right thing. It’s given me a clear view of what it is I’m leaving behind, and an even clearer view of why I want to keep Leigh in my life. She’s important to me, and I’m very happy that we’ve been able to navigate our relationship and its ending the way we have.

I’m not saying it’s been easy – it hasn’t. It is unbelievably difficult to see someone I care about hurting because of decisions I’ve made – every day – and then to try to comfort her. I’m not saying this could work for everyone. We weren’t always sure it would work for me to stay in the house until I left, but we’ve communicated the entire time, the best we could, and we’ve kept each other informed about our feelings and our plans. We see each other as family, which means we plan to be in each other’s lives for a long, long time, and we want the best for each other.

I’m incredibly proud of Leigh. She’s branching out and lightening-up, and she’s pursuing her dream of being a photographer. (She’s really good.) I know she’s proud of me – even if she doesn’t understand why I’m doing what I’m doing.

I don’t know what will happen for either of us when I leave. There have been plenty of tears shed. We’ve both had our good and bad days. Even on the worst days, it’s been an inexplicable comfort to be able to walk through the house and get a hug from Leigh. She’s my best friend. After six years, she knows me better than almost anyone. I think about how fortunate I am every day to have her in my life. I don’t know what I’ll do when she’s not near me, and I know we’re better when we’re not together. That’s a hard place to be sometimes. But, hard places teach lessons.

So, I’ve learned a few things. I’ve learned how important it is to be honest and up-front with those I love. I’ve learned that there is room for creativity in most everything – even in break-ups. I’ve learned that love isn’t necessarily enough to sustain the relationship I want, but it is enough to allow me to discover what type of relationship is sustainable.

The last three months have been full of lessons and of gifts. I hope that, as I move through my life, I can be as kind to others as Leigh has been to me, and that I remember how important it is to treat those I love with respect, even when I find myself in uncomfortable positions.

I feel like I’m 12 again, sneaking upstairs to unplug the NES to bring it to my room and play into the wee hours of the night. I think most anyone who grew up with a computer gaming system will know what I’m talking about. There have been certain games in my gaming career that have been more apt to draw me in and keep me playing for hours and hours.

When I was a kid, Super Mario Bros and Zelda did the trick. Before that, I had a Texas Instruments keyboard console that plugged directly into the tv and acted like a computer. My game of choice on that system was Parsec.

In college, I hoarded the community Super Nintendo in my dorm room for a two week stint playing Donkey Kong Country non-stop, and in law school, I ended up at the eye doctor complaining of flashing lights that were caused from the hours and hours in front of a tv playing Jak and Daxter, and Ratchet and Clank on my classmate’s Playstation2.

As you may have noticed, I’ve never actually purchased a gaming unit. Sometimes, I know my limitations. Other times I ignore them.

Take the wii, for example. It wasn’t until a little over a year ago that Leigh and I decided we could handle one. She called from Fred Meyer “I might have a wii under my arm. I might bring it home. What do you think?”

“Hell yeah! That’s what I think!”

We were responsible for a good long while. We set rules:
1. No wii in the morning.
2. No wii before dark.
3. No solo wii.

That was all good for a while. We played Mario Cart together for an hour every so often. We observed the rules. That is, until we got the wii fit. That was when the real addict came out. It didn’t seem that bad, though, because, although I was spending a couple of hours a day on it, I was doing yoga and strength training. I was even getting up early to ride my bike so I could record it in the wii fit fitness log. Frankly, I was in the best shape of my life. I was, however often violating the wii rules. I’d come home from work and wii alone, and before dark.

But, this week, things really took a turn. A friend was in from out of town, and she called to see if I wanted to come play Rock Band. Yes, yes I did want to play Rock Band. I’d once played Guitar Hero in the Fred Meyer electronics department, and was instantly hooked. Since then I had been trying to convince Leigh that a plastic replica guitar controller would be a good “investment.”

After about 10 minutes playing Rock Band, I was completely enthralled with the game. This is a brilliant game. It combines great music with really fun, interactive game play that can involve your whole family and any skill level. It’s seriously genius. We played for a couple of hours, trading off between guitar, bass, singing and playing the drums. (I’m fairly certain I frightened folks a little when I started banging away on the drums. I’ve never been a percussion person, but this is incredibly fun and therapeutic.)

I spent the next day researching the game, and settled on the Rock Band 2 special edition package. I called around to about 6 Fred Meyer stores and found one unit. (Apparently, these things are popular.) It was even on sale! After a 20 mile detour, I had my very own Rock Band set.

That night, I spent 4 hours playing, but it was mostly after dark, and Leigh played too. (We named our band members after our animals and called it “Menagerie.” We’re pretty proud of ourselves.) Added to the few hours spent researching, the hour calling around and the hour picking it up and setting it up, I spent more time with Rock Band than I did sleeping. Perhaps this should have been a clue that Rock Band would need its own special set of rules.

The next night I only spent three hours playing, but this time I was alone. (At least I haven’t started playing in the morning yet.) After I finally went to bed – because I could no longer hold the guitar – I thought about the things I hadn’t done for a couple of days because of my total consumption by this video game. I realized something: I’m not sure I can be responsible for my actions. No, seriously. When I was 12 and I wanted to play Nintendo all the time, I had someone telling me that I had to do my homework, or that it was time for bed, or that I should go play outside. That is no longer the case.

What’s more, I now have the financial ability to purchase any gaming system I want, and any games that I want, and any controllers that I want. At the same time, I don’t have anyone to regulate my usage of those games – except for me, who would rather play. I’m not so sure this is a good combination for me. I’m not working out, Libby hasn’t had a good walk all week, and I haven’t started packing. I can totally rock the bass on the “hard” level, though, so that’s good.

Last week, someone referred to me as “Peter Pan.” I wasn’t sure if it was a criticism or a compliment. Either way, I wonder, what would Peter Pan do? And, would he sing lead for his band the “Lost Boys” or would Tinkerbell?

I love food.  I come by it honestly.

When my family gets together, our day will tytpcally go something like this:

“Good morning! Come sit down and eat!  You want cereal?  You want toast?  You want pannetone and jumbalone and turchaneals?  How about rhubarb sauce?  Apple sauce?  Rhubarb sauce in your cereal?  Dunk that in your coffee.   Pass one to me so I can dunk it in my coffee.  I’ll go put more in the toaster.  Where should we go to lunch?”

What’s great is my family is a bunch of really good cooks and bakers.  From Greek and Italian pastries to low-fat masterpieces that came from a need to control my dad’s cholesterol, I grew up eating some amazing home-cooked food.

Over the last couple of years I’ve moved from pasta and bottled sauce to some pretty amazing pasta dishes, salads and my signature agave-sweetened peanut-butter chocolate-chip cookies.

I enjoy cooking and baking, but the best part for me is sharing.  Check back for news and updates on recipes and creations.  I’ll start with that cookie recipe.  I’ve been told it could change the world.  Well, if anyhting can, why not a cookie?