Delicious

Time: 1 1/2 hours          Temperature: 150-180 C (310-360 F)
Ingredients: tomatoes, garlic, onion, parsley, day-old bread, ground beef, ground pork, eggs
You need a blender and glass bread pan.

One of the many dishes I had the joy of eating while in the country visiting Mami (Anais' grandmother) was stuffed tomatoes. What she did to make them is:

take ripe tomatoes and cut the tops off like a hat. save these tops for later. bore a hole into each tomato removing the heart and pulp. you can put these in a separate bowl where you mix them with the other ingredients, which are:

garlic, onion, parsley, bread (preferably day-old bread). if you go to a bakery at the end of the day, ask if they're throwing any out... maybe you'll get it for free. but you want the bread to be firm, closer to croutons, although not that crunchy. take raw ground beef and, if you can find it, a kind of ground pork, although i'm not sure what you would call this or if it can be found easily in the states. after hard-boiling an egg or two, add it to the mixture and put it all in the blender.

after it's all blended together, stuff the tomatoes and replace the caps. you can add a little butter before replacing the caps, but it's preference, not necessary.

so! your oven's been heating up to a warm 150-180 degrees and it's ready to cook for 1 hour and 30 minutes.

when it's finished, serve it up! bon appetite!

Strike!

A march, parade, I don't know, lasts at least a mile, no idea where's the end. Today trains go on strike because government wants to raise retirement two years. The workers say, Non. No more trains until we work a compromise. Horns blare from a car following the drum line which followed, after 5 minutes or so, a truck with speakers shouting chants. I have no idea what's happening. Looks like a holiday.
I.M.E.
Chateau de Branson
CGT
SDIS49
firemen? Truck goes, parade stops, shouts through microphone: Un, Deux, Trois! everyone runs forward. Table ahead of me sees friends in the parade. They decided to take the day off, but skipped the strike.

Magic 8-Ball

Small cafe sells magazines, tobac, & racing bets. Black man with vitiligo sits at the bar front of the keeper who has a frothing lisp. People pass in their tickets for their few winnings and steam blows into milk at the espresso machine - Monsieur, mon earnings s'il vous plait. The trash bin is nearly full, mostly crumpled bets.
Monday's paper spreads across a table with horse rankings. The man with the paper hunches over the numbers, weighs the coins in his left hand, then fiddles through them with his right index, middle, & thumb. He steps away, clanking the bits between his fingers. Returns, hand in pocket, not as heavy now as he takes his seat, considers his bet, and looks to the TV for his next fortune.

In France

Ah, France, you are blue and green with stove pipes and electric wires, tractors for harvest and great, wonderful trees. You have construction cranes standing into clear skies. Bridges and fences, bushes and steps. Except that your men moan and your women coo - instead of grumbles and cackling in my land - we are not so far removed, you and I.


Stuck on the train, not moving. Close to 11, either before or after. Thirsty. Want to see Anais. She has to return to class and we've been sitting here for 10 minutes, Anais expecting me at the Angers train station by 10 to 1. I'm not bothered, but eager. I want to smell France, get out pressure-locked tubes and corridors. Let me sip a cafe in mild France. I have three months... but why waste time?


Putain! Still stopped. Waiting. Waiting. No idea of the time.
The baby beside me babbling and squeeling keeps me well entertained.
Un cafe, s'il vous plait from le bar. keep me up. Let's get going before I head back for Carlsberg.


Another train passes


They think there's a bomb on this train. Now I'm frustrated. Maintenance is one thing, but you know there is no bomb. It's after 1 now. We've been stopped over two hours. I've read, written, drawn, read some more, folded paper, had a coffee, used the toilet, walked back and forth, listened to some music, and sat. We still sit.


Quoi faire? Quoi faire?! Ou voiture pour mon cigaret?
The sun laps me. My day has not ended, but now we're moving backward. Whatever. Least we move. Get me to a train to take me onward! Putain! Probably, someone forgot their briefcase on the train. Merde.


10 to 2, moving from stop 1. Went 1/2 way to stop 2, stalled for bomb. Back tracked, doors opened, 5 French smoking at door, so I joined. "Welcome in France," a passenger told me. I tried in French to ask, does this happen often? "No. When it does, it's very difficult."
10 to 2, onto our second stop. Ou est Angers?! Bomb scare, but no one's afraid, just wondering when we'll get to where we're going. We're in this together.


The train is stopped again and the selfish baby wails, tired and restless. She just wants to sleep, be comfortable and sleep. As do I, child. You're not alone.


We went well while my eyes were closed. Now we're stopped again, going nowhere. Lady at le bar says Angers is 3 hours away. Pick it up France! Your first impression is struggling like my patience.


And now again we move, after another walk for coffee and a while in my seat. Another announcement. I have no idea what's going on. I just want to be to Angers.


Train man says Angers by 4h 30. It's 3:15. 1 hour 23 minutes now expected by roughly 7 hours without doing proper math. Speeding through countryside, bold green growing from pale green and living brown bushes and amber. Behind, crop fields being toiled or harvested. Wind turbines spot the landscape, grain cars parked at the mill. If everything I heard today wasn't French, I'd think the US adopted trains.


Poor girl makes me want to cry. On the wrong train since the airport. My heart sinks to try and lift hers, but I don't believe it can go low enough.


We're excited for each other! those staying on for those arriving to their destinations.


Swapped trains, free meal for inconvenience, 30 minutes to Angers. Called Anais.


Get my backpack. Thank you for helping me get here! to the girl from Brazil visiting her husband. A revoir! Grab my big pack, put it on, wait. I got up too soon. Train slows. Here we are. Finally! I'm here.

Midnight Thoughts

My uncle, I don't know very well, just the surface of his ideologies and nothing more because we're family and nothing else matters.

I know he served as a Marine in Vietnam and that I'm proud of him for that.

That's a man who believes in something greater than himself.

Disagreeing with what is greater is one thing,
but the agreement that something is beyond us

we can be comforted by this
as it holds each of us in its cupped hands.

He Didn't Talk His Way Out of It

David pulled into the parking lot quick, hit the guard rail solid at the local Whataburger. The state trooper walked up as Janet got out of the back seat, Lee stepped out the passenger side, and David opened his door.

The trooper looked at the bumper, then to David. "How you doin tonight?"

David looked up from his seat as he stood up, "I'm fine."

Lee waited at the back of the car. Janet stood beside her door. The trooper looked at David.

"This your car?"

"It's mine," Janet answered. "But we're both insured on it."

The trooper looked at David. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You been drinking tonight?"

David looked him in the eyes and said nothing.

"I asked you a question. Have you been drinking?"

He looked straight at the trooper. "I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked. I asked if you've been drinking."

"I'm not going to lie to you."

The trooper looked back at Janet and Lee. Lee rolled a cigarette. The trooper asked Janet, "What's he doing? Is he gonna throw down on me?"

"No, he's not," Janet replied. The trooper looked back at David.

"What are you doing? I'm a State Trooper." He pointed to his badge. "I don't have to put up with this shit. You know how many DWI's I give out?"

David's hands were clasped in front of his waist. "Yes sir. I understand." David's eyes never flinched. The trooper looked at Janet.

"Are you okay to drive?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Lee lit his cigarette.

The trooper, now angry, told Janet, "You take him home now. Give her the keys."

David nodded. "I'm going to reach into my pocket and get the keys." He handed them to Janet. The trooper pointed to the passenger seat.

"You take him out of here, now."

"Yes sir."

The three got into the car and Janet slowly pulled out.

David looked at Janet and Lee. "And that's how you get out of a DWI."

Sophie's Days

Sophie danced in the ash storm, fell down, made an ash-angel. The children had an ash-ball fight, made an ashman, built an ash-fort, went sledding on tobacco leaves.

The next day, a beer storm melted the ash. Sophie drank the precipitation and smoked a few cigarettes.
The next day was foggy. The following day was hazy. Sophie slept through both.
Three days after beer-showers, it hailed whiskey rocks. Sophie set out a bucket, let the rocks melt, drank from the bucket. She smoked some more cigarettes.

Saul's God

Saul of 1 Samuel, appointed by Samuel as king, whose son is Jonathan. The king battles constantly the Philistines. And lo, the hulking Philistine known as Goliath and who can battle him? Here he comes, a mere young man, a shepherd, but who has battled bears and beasts and "Have I not slain those which attacked my flock?" and he had, so King Saul dons him in battle garments and fetches for young David a sword for one hand, shield for another, but David looks to Saul, saying "Did I have these when I slew the beasts?" and fetched from the riverbed three smooth stones, put them into his shepherd's pouch, with his sling, and went to battle Goliath.
Approaching him, Goliath looks at David and mocks, yet, David is not afraid. He loads a stone in his sling and with precision launches the stone into the middle of Goliath's forehead and he falls face first into the ground. David takes a sword from a Philistine soldier, steps upon Goliath's frame, and takes his head as reward for Saul.

Now, Saul praises the young boy and asks him to be his servant, which David agrees to. However, Saul becomes jealous of the praise David receives. "Saul killed his thousands and David his ten thousands!" the people chant.

Stepping out of the story now to summarize, Saul's jealousy becomes anger and David's celebrity becomes problematic for how Saul reacts. With the help of Jonathan, Saul's son, David escapes. Jonathan tells David before parting, "And if we have to be separated, the Lord will be between us." Despite David's purity, he leaves and therefore misses the feast of the new moon. Saul notices and says, "His seat is empty. He must not be clean."
Ah! the fool. He takes solace in the act of this feast rather than a pure heart.

 Saul continues to track David and make attempts at his life, but David is helped by the masses who love him, for he is a man of God, right and good, and slain Goliath.
Saul sends a servant after David as David hides. The servant reports David's location and Saul says to him, "Bless you of the Lord, for you have compassion on me."
Such pity, that a man against the Lord, a man of greed and jealousy, claims the name.

It's no different today. Whether terrorists or Koran burners, abortion clinic bombers or cult leaders, these people claim the voice, power, and name of God because they feel passionately that God is speaking to them.
Unfortunately this intense feeling is no different than those who introduce the Koran to their congregation as an opportunity for understanding, those who invite non-Muslims to their Eid ul-Fitr iftar feast, and those who turn the other cheek.

So what are we to do when those who do harm claim God with as much fervor as those who bring peace in the name of God?

Solution to Qur'an Burning: Understanding… or an iPad.

 

"It's hard for people to believe, but we actually feel this is a message that we have been called to bring forth. And because of that, we do not feel like we can back down." - Pastor Terry Jones, Dove World Outreach Center

I need an iPad. It’s swank, clean, holds all my books, and doesn’t burn at 451 degrees (although it does melt with enough blow torches held up to it, but really, who wants to do that?) We have technologies unlike anything before, thousands of songs held in our pockets, an understanding of Outer Space deeper than ever imaginable, cups that hold your drink with a lid that holds your chicken nuggets! Yet we bicker like children, offended anytime someone steps on our toes, and expect each other to walk on eggshells around our sensitivities. Despite humanity’s technological and social strides, efforts toward true understanding are negligible. And I've grown sick of us.

As Krishna said in the Bhagavad gita, the Hindu holy text, "All paths of worship lead to God." It is to this end that we all must strive, this understanding that God does not care through which prophet we choose to find him, so long as we acknowledge this: God is beyond our ability to comprehend. This, everyone can agree on. There’s no need for burning books, shouting and prolonged hate.

The Qur'an is a book made of paper. The Bible is a book made of paper. The Great Gatsby is a book made of paper. The only difference is what they represent and if we get up in arms for desecrating a representation, this is idolatry. The words are sacred, not the form. So don’t worry about it.

I understand the extent of disrespect associated with the act of burning holy doctrine. That’s why people do it. But Muslims must employ a "turn the other cheek" attitude, explained by one of your prophets, Jesus, and ignore the small handful of schmucks. Christians must employ a “turn the other cheek” attitude, explained by your prophet, Jesus, and ignore the small handful of schmucks. Forget it. The people attacking your holy word are ignorant and not like the Christ they claim.

AP writer, Mitch Stacy documents, "Last month, Indonesian Muslims demonstrated outside the U.S. embassy in Jakarta…" This is fair. Be upset and tell people you are. What is so frustrating is the rest: "…threatening violence if Jones goes through with [the Qur’an burning].”

Why violence? To what end? People are so sensitive about things, then threaten violence as if this retaliation accomplishes some greater cause. Everyone is mutually perpetuating this problem. It's petty.

Speaking with my friend, she asked "Is that weird?"

"That people are sensitive?" I asked.

She said yes and I explained, "It's not weird to get upset when someone offends you. What's weird is how sensitive people have become and then threaten violence in defense of themselves."

When one is violent against you, play a passive role, a godly role, "as we forgive those who trespass against us."

Jesus teaches tolerance and love and these people burning books don't accept that. They show hate. And the muslims angered by such protests, ignore the same teachings of tolerance and love, and burn books back. And show hate.

Muslims now must recognize that these people do not represent Christianity, just as Christians must recognize that 19 hijackers do not represent Islam.

But instead, Christians show hate, so Muslims hate back. Christians get upset and burn the Qur'an. Muslims get together and burn the Bible. Christians burn down a mosque. Muslims vandalize a church. Christians are intolerant, so Muslims fight back.

Thank you who acknowledge the similarities – my Indonsian Muslim friend who, refering to Christianity, Islam, and Judaism, says, “We’re all just celebrating our blessings.” She keeps in touch with her Jewish friend in Arizona who wishes, “Happy Ramadan, Ayu.” Thank you to the numerous community leaders trying to pull everyone together in the spirit of your prophets and to the architect who respects differences of any kind. Thank you to all who are trying to understand for yourselves rather than choose a talking-head’s side because they already have an opinion for you to adopt.

No thank you news media who focus on a church of 50 hate-mongers to keep up the debate, instead of any of the kind-hearted aforementioned. But I understand conflict pays better.

But I’ve said all this and offered no direct solution, so here it is. We could all agree to get along and collectively put a stop to intolerance and book burning. To do this we must endure a great deal of reflection, understanding, and inner growth.

Or, it would be easier if we just put our Qur’ans and Bibles on our iPads. No one would dare burn one of those.

Tolerance, Forgiveness, Let's Move Forward

Our Father which art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on Earth, as it is in Heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread;
and forgive us our trespasses as
WE FORGIVE THOSE WHO TRESPASS AGAINST US;
and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil,
for Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever.
Amen.

Muslim Relations in the US

(image courtesy of Wikipedia)

If the clothes were more familiar to what we wear at Christmas; if instead of Mrouziya, Seviyan, and Sheer Korma you saw turkey, dressing, and jibblet gravy, what would be the difference? The difference, if we must find one, is religion, which is no big distinction between people and their morality.
How exciting to gather with family and friends to celebrate! During Ramadan, Muslims do not eat or drink each day from sunrise to sunset as a lesson in patience, humility, and spirituality. During this month, Muslims believe God's revelations to mankind are more frequent and noticeable, as this is believed to be the month God revealed the first verses of the Qur'an to Mohammad. At the end of Ramadan is Eid ul-Fitr, commonly known as Eid. On this day, Muslims hold a breaking of the fast known as the Iftar dinner (Farah Pandith, Secretary of State Clinton's Special Representative to Muslim Communities);
and, did you know that the US State Department holds an annual Iftar dinner? The first president to attend an Iftar was Thomas Jefferson (Wikipedia).

In several weeks this holiday will take place again. Much like Christmas and Hanukkah, on Eid in the US, the day of the Iftar, Muslims gather with friends and families in Islamic Community Centers and convention halls to eat and pray. Wealthy Muslims donate to the less fortunate and sometimes reserve amusement parks and skating rinks to host the celebration (Wikipedia).

Why not celebrate too? No, I know it may not be your faith, but how nice it would be to invite a Muslim to join for turkey and dressing. Why not try some traditional sweet and spicy Islamic cuisine?

Mrouziya
Ingredients 2 pounds of lamb chunks
2 cups of water
2 teaspoons Ras El Hanout
1/4cup of honey
1/4cup of olive oil
1/2 cup of whole blanched almonds, toasted
1/4 cup of raisins


How To Cook: Bring the oven temperature up to 345 degrees. Coat the lamb with Ras El Hanout spice. Place spiced lamb in a 5-quart pot covered with a lid. To the pot, add the water, honey and olive oil Bake for about 2 hours until the meat softens. Remove the meat from the pot and keep warm. Remove extra oil. To the pot, add the raisins. Boil until the raisins are fully cooked. Return the lamp to the stew. Boil for about 2 minutes. Decorate with the toasted almonds. Serve with warm bread, or with cooked Saffron rice, Raisins and Almonds.
(recipe found Here)