2011: In Retrospect

It's amazing to think that this time last year, I had such high hopes for 2011. It was supposed to be the year that everything changed for the better. I was supposed to graduate college, commission, start my career, get married, among other, smaller things. To be fair, some of that did happen, and then some.

But a lot of it didn't. A lot of it went terribly wrong.

I sit here now reminiscing about the past year of my life. The beginning of it held so much promise. I started it off with a (presumably) healthy relationship and it was officially my last semester. Everything was nearly perfect, and then it all started falling apart.

It really began in March, when Andrew and I broke it off for what is and will remain the last time. There comes a point in time when what you thought was good for you and what actually is begin to diverge. The worst part is I think we just denied it and continued on like nothing had changed when, in fact, everything in the world had.

Then I found out I was failing a class and there were so many administrative issues that I was scared to death that I wouldn't be able to commission on time (or at all). There, of course, is a bright side to this one. Everything literally worked out at the last minute, and here I am, a college graduate and a 2nd Lieutenant. It doesn't mean it was or still is any less stressful.

I also remember the miracle of finding someone else to love--or maybe he found me. I remember how it felt like home and how I honestly thought that it could last forever. I had become so cynical about love, and here was someone who showed me it wasn't so bad, after all, or so I thought. To this day, I can't believe I could ever be so naive, but I was. I was so naive and trusting that I let it all decay into nothing, but not before it became something twisted and ugly. Not before it tore away everything.

That was in June. I still miss him in a lot of ways.

On to Florida in July... Everything looked like it might actually go right--and then the fall. I was held back two months before I could start my training. I have six months left now. That never seemed like such a huge amount of time as it does right now.

Don't get me wrong. It's not like I don't love my class. There's not a single one of them I wouldn't mind hanging out with. I don't dislike any of them. They're fun, and we like to joke around with each other. It's a nice break from reality. So no, it's not the training. It's not even the base. It's Florida. It's Panama City. It literally and figuratively stinks. The air is so thick you can't even breathe. The drivers are completely insane. Need I go on? Bottom line: I hate Florida. I had such high hopes for it, and it only disappointed.

In September, we lost Brownie, or Mr. B., the horse who taught me how to ride. He was like a brother, and there I was a thousand miles away. I don't think I've ever felt so helpless.

In October, we lost Cindy, our broodmare and love.

November came and went. I took a moment on the 11th to think of what could have been, but it'll never be. In a way, I'm happy. In a way, it hurts, too. Sometimes you have to give up the things you think matter in order to grow into the person you were always meant to be. I just wish I knew what that was supposed to be.

So here I sit in December, looking back. We lost Luke on Saturday. I don't know if we'll ever see him again. I doubt it more and more with each day that passes. That, along with everything else, makes me wonder if Christmas will be as cold as I feel inside. Will the New Year bring a wind of change, or will all of this continue? Realism dictates that it will be the latter, but I find myself hoping for something to pull me out of this ungodly pit of sorrow and regret.

I keep hoping the foundations will stop crumbling, and I won't have to be scared of falling through anymore.

The Experience of a Lifetime

As many of you know, I finally took the opportunity to see someone who has given me so much strength for the past several years--especially the last several months--this past weekend. His songs have helped me through so very much, and I am eternally grateful for the light that would shine for me even when I didn't have the strength or want to get up in the morning. It was a promise that eventually the pain would end and day would come again someday. I'm certain we've all faced times such as this and perhaps music has helped in some way. For me, it was Josh Groban.

Regardless of how you feel about the guy or his music, pause and take a moment to consider that getting to see Josh in concert was the single greatest thing that has happened to me in a while. Here is someone whom I've never met, yet his songs have spoken to me in a such way that allowed me to recover from some of the worst times of my life. No, I don't know him and I never will, but his music will always be that one constant that never steps out even when I'm at my worst. I believe there is something to be said for that.

The drive to Orlando took over six hours. I saw some beautiful country and drove through the horse capitol of Florida, Ocala, but I really didn't stop to enjoy it because I really wanted to get to my destination. I actually forgot that I was going back to East Coast time until I got there and realized the concert was starting in an hour--not two, like I'd planned on when I left--so I wouldn't get to have a nice sit-down meal on one of the nearby restaurants. I was so excited that I barely even noticed I hadn't eaten, anyway, so I didn't even get anything after I was in the Amway Center.

Everything was a blur there for about an hour or so. The opening act, ELEW, was just amazing, but I was starting to get horribly impatient. I discovered Josh my junior year in high school and even though that was over five years ago I didn't want to wait another minute to finally see him. It didn't matter that I was in Section 208. It had been long enough!

Then the lights dimmed.

The "mini-orchestra" started playing an instrumental version of "Straight to You."

I was holding my breath in anticipation. This was it!

The crowd on the floor began to cheer. The spots lighted on that familiar curly-haired figure. He was waving as he hurried to the stage and even after, he greeted his fans at 360 degrees. He was wearing a white t-shirt, a black suit jacket, blue jeans and sneakers. I smiled at that odd combination, but it seemed fitting of him.

He sat down at this small little upright and began playing "February Song," and I sang along until the emotions wouldn't let me anymore. Tears welled up and choked out my small little voice in that gigantic stadium. I couldn't believe it. I was finally here. It was so surreal. And to start with "February Song" made it even more emotional. "Where is that simple day/Before colors broke into shades/And how did I ever fade/Into this life?" Those words hit me so much more than they ever had before, as did almost every other song that followed.

At the beginning of every new song, I kept thinking "This is one of my favorites!" or "I love this song!" It had no end. All told, there were only two songs he didn't play ("Awake" and "Remember When It Rained") that I would have loved to hear. I consider that a success.

"War At Home" just killed me.

"Bells of New York City" was just beautiful.

"Broken Vow" made me cry all over again.

And when he talked about "Higher Window" right before he sang it, I lost it even more.

The whole concert gave me some closure to parts of my life. At the same time, it allowed me to think about some things and reassess. I'd like to think it opened some new doors, too. Even though I only managed to get a wave from Josh from across the street after the concert had ended, I still felt fulfilled. It's hard to explain how or why. I really don't know, but maybe one day I will.

After sleeping in Orlando that night, I went home with the courage to face a few things I'd been pondering how to confront. I also got scared and slammed a few doors, but that's all right. Maybe one day I'll be able to open them back up and greet what's on the other side with confidence. I'm just not there yet. The point is--and this may sound a little stupid and corny--on Saturday night Josh made me realize that anything is possible, given time...and the only way to confront time is with patience.

Understanding Love

I know a few of you who probably had a good laugh at the title of this post. I don't blame you because when could we ever understand love? Completely? Never. It's parts of it that matter, and that's what I'm talking about here.

A few weeks back I posted a status on Facebook. Although this is something I do just about every day, this one wasn't about what I was doing at that moment or regurgitated song lyrics or anything like that. This time, I posted what I was thinking about specifically. It consisted of three sentences containing words that I formed on my own:

"Sometimes you just know. Right from the beginning, you somehow realize that looking into his eyes is the first thing you want to do every morning. You want those eyes to be the last thing you ever see because, once again, you somehow know you'll never feel this way about anyone else."

Let me take a moment to talk about this quote. A lot of people will assume I was referring to my ex, which in a lot of ways is true, but that's only a small part of it. These words, to me, express far more. To me, this describes what love is because sometimes you meet someone who makes you feel like you've never felt before. The prospect of being near them excites you. The slightest of touches can create such a spark that you find yourself catching your breath. This person makes you smile--even if you don't necessarily want to at that moment. Everything suddenly seems to fit into place, and it's true that you'll never feel the same about someone else because that someone else will never be the same person.

Don't worry. I had to rewrite that one and read it over a few times, too. Let me clarify.

If and when that relationship ends, it's not that you'll never find someone else. How many times have we told ourselves that we'll never have another chance at love and then we do? It happens every day, but the truth is, that new love you might just find isn't going to be the same person who left you behind. That being said, it's impossible to feel the same way about a different person, and it's far more complicated than loving someone more or less. It's more like comparing one flavor of Hagen-Daaz to the same flavor of Baskin-Robbins. They are, in essence, the same thing, but they taste...just a little different.

Why? A different recipe, of course. They may use the same basic ingredients, but in different quantities. They'll prepare them different ways. They'll add some ingredients specific to that brand. It's the same concept as love. We, as humans, are constantly changing--even me, and any of you who really know me are aware of how resistant I can be to change. Each person is a different ingredient, too. Your commonalities, personalities, and beliefs will meld together differently with this person than they did with someone who came before. I just wish I'd realized that sooner rather than later.

So, have I managed to understand everything that love (and life) throws at us? No, and I don't expect that I ever will. That's the joy of life, and what makes it worth living. Until next time...

Kitchen (Mis)Adventures: Pasta Mascarpone with Bay Scallops

Most of you who know me at all know I like to ... let's just use the word experiment ... when it comes to cooking. This, of course, could mean anything from following a recipe exactly to every specification or it could simply mean grabbing a can of tuna fish and some vegetables and seeing how badly I can fork up what happens. From the picture to the left, one can assume that I at least did a decent job of getting it to look like...well, pasta. But this isn't just any pasta, folks! This is Pasta Mascarpone with Bay Scallops.

Truthfully, I shouldn't call it that for the pure and simple reason that finding mascarpone is the hardest freaking thing on the planet. I'm not sure it even exists because I have never even seen it. What's up with that, by the way? About half the recipes I try call for the one type of cheese that no one carries!? What's up with that? But I digress...

So, this is one of those occasions in which I found a recipe online and (sort of) followed directions--which, I might add, most of you know is difficult for me to do. You can click the link to find the original recipe, but I will henceforth be telling you how I, myself, did the cooking.

Part I - The Pasta

Since this is a pasta dish, the first item of business is to take a pot of water and bring it to a boil. I generally salt the water because it gives the pasta a flavor dimension. Don't let anyone fool you into thinking that makes it boil faster. Water boils when it boils, not before, and there's no freaking way you can convince it otherwise.

Once the water (finally) came to a boil, I added a 16-oz. pkg of seashell pasta, and put that on for roughly 8 minutes because I like al dente pasta.

Part II  - The Vegetables

Meanwhile, I put the following ingredients in a 12-in. pan over medium:

6 tbsp butter
1 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp fresh parsley, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced

I let these ingredient play with each other a bit until I got a nice smell of cooking garlic, at which time I added my vegetables and seasonings. I love mushrooms so I went ahead and used a 12-oz. pkg. of sliced mushrooms. At this point, I had gotten a little annoyed with how badly my knife sucked, so I only added 1/2 bunch asparagus that I had trimmed and cut into 1 inch pieces. For seasonings, I put in 1/2 tsp onion powder and salt and pepper to taste.

Begin the arduous task of waiting until the asparagus was tender. See, I like vegetables with a little resiliency but not crunchy. Asparagus--at least in this case--was one of those that just irritated the hell out of me because getting it to perfection takes some time, especially since you have to stay around it to stir occasionally. The recipe estimated 5 minutes. Mine took about 6 1/2 minutes because I had the big asparagus.

Part III - The Scallops

Now comes the part I had never, ever done before: cooking the scallops. I used 1 pound bay scallops because I hear they have more flavor. Make sure you rinse and pat them dry, and also remember to take them out of the freezer hours beforehand so you don't have to wait for them to thaw.

Now remember all those veggies you just cooked up? Well the recipe calls for you to cook the scallops in the same pan, presumably to get that flavor in them. This requires removing the vegetables without removing all of the yummy byproduct of the saute process. I poured the veggies into a bowl, failed horribly at trying to keep some of the juice in the pan and had to carefully pour some juice back into the pan by draining it off of the vegetables. My kitchen became a mess in no time at all, as you can imagine, but I did it.

Time for the scallops, which I had to cook until "lightly browned" and cooked all the way through. The recipe estimated would take about 3 minutes per side--yeah right! For those of you who don't know, bay scallops are smaller than sea scallops, so you would think it would then take six minutes or less to cook them in this way. Whatever. Those little suckers would not brown. After about 9 minutes, I took the biggest one off and cut into it to see if it was done and it was, so I went ahead and quit while I was ahead.

Part IV - The Sauce

Sometime during all of these other adventures, I was also putting together what would become the sauce. Remember I said I couldn't find mascarpone? Well, luckily mascarpone is one of those things you can substitute pretty easily, using ricotta or in this case, an 8-oz. pkg. of (American) Neufchâtel cheese. I combined this with 1/4 cup whole milk and 2 tbsp butter in a small saucepan over medium until the cheese, not just the butter, had combined into the mixture and it was nice and warm.

Part V - Putting it all together

This is probably where I went wrong, but I ran with it. I took the pasta, the vegetables, the scallops, and the sauce and I combined them all in one bowl to create the train wreck in the picture at the top, snapped some pictures, and indulged in the high-caloric content.

The Conclusion

This dish was not nearly as "light" as I expected--and as the recipe states. Keep in mind however, that it is a dairy-based pasta dish and that is probably why it really sticks to the ribs. The cheese added a very nice tang, which is nice for a cream sauce, which I usually find slightly more bland than I'd like. The scallops gave it a nice texture, but since scallops only have a very light flavor to begin with I would almost suggest pairing the pasta with a more flavorful seafood or possibly chicken. My favorite part, however, would have the be the vegetables. The mushrooms and asparagus really rounded everything out and the flavor from the saute process was just amazing.

Like I've already said, using another fish or chicken is worth a try. Another thing I would do is get the baby asparagus as it cooks more quickly and blends in a little bit better. Of course, I would love to one day try a recipe with mascarpone cheese so if anyone know where to find it in the Panama City area please share! Also, I am never, ever going to use seashell pasta for this again. I'm thinking something like farfalle, or even a small stuffed pasta and getting rid of the separate seafood part of the dish entirely. I have much to improve upon here, but the fact that I even say that means the recipe is a definitely a keeper.

Chef's Rating: 8.7 (B+)

Eulogy

I've been told it's like falling asleep--that it eases the suffering and allows the dying to transition to a better place where pain doesn't exist. I choose to believe that. Anything less would be, in my mind, unacceptable to ponder.

I lost a friend this week. His name was Brownie, but most of is who knew him well just called him Mr. B. He was, in fact, the best friend I've ever had. He taught me to ride. He took care of me when I was his charge for just shy of twenty years. I remember the day we met. It's one of my earliest memories. He was big and brown and I fell in love immediately. I know my mother did, too. The best thing about it all was that I know he loved both of us back unconditionally. I know he would have done anything for us that was within his power, and he proved that time and time again throughout the years. And now, he's gone forever.

Even though you know that death will happen eventually, it still hurts when it does. Those people you love the most will eventually transcend this life to another, leaving family and friends behind to mourn. Yes, he was a person to me. There was never a question of that, and there never will be. It's just like losing a family member because that's what he was. My only wish is that I could have been there to say goodbye. Now, I'll never have that chance. Not really.

It's been just over three days now since he passed, and it's getting easier, I guess. I know that the next time I go home and he's not there, it'll be like I'm going through it all over again, but for now, I'm fine. If I weren't I wouldn't be here now--writing this. It still hurts, of course, but the sobs have been replaced with a more gentle stream of tears when I think about him. I'm reminded of a song, to be honest, except this time instead of going hunting with a dog, I'd be grooming him up and getting ready to go for a ride one more time. He'd be searching for treats at every opportunity, and he eventually would win out and get one. Then we'd go exploring and have so much fun. Then I'd turn him loose again and watch him join Zephyr and Cricket and all the other horses who have gone before him. And I'd smile because that's what he could always do is make me smile.

Mr. B. left a mark that will be with me for the rest of my life, and I'm better for it. He and I grew up (or in his case, older) together, and I can honestly say it was a blast. My life would not be the same without him, and I will always be thankful for the years he spent in this family of misfits I like to call my own. He will certainly not be forgotten.

Rest in peace, my dear friend.