ve have a vinner!

November 22, 2010 ~ jama

Velcome Vamps!

Time to give away the Blessed ARC!

This is of the utmost importance, because the longer it stays in my possession, the more I vant to suck your blood, the more obsessed I become with the letter "V" — voles, venom, vipers, vitriol!

*sips blood wine*

Thank you all for entering. I salivvvvvvvated uncontrollably reading about your favorite red foods.

There were juicy strawberries,

penwren/flickr

ravvvvvvishing raspberries (fingers taste good, too),

D. Sharon Pruitt/flickr

a raft of tomatoes,

taekwondoweirdo/flickr

spicy, bubbling spaghetti sauce,

mrjoro/flickr

and one of my all-time favorite vices, cherry pie.

kellydna/flickr

Several of you were enamoured with that luscious Southern favorite, Red Velvet Cake. Oh yes, all excellent choices!

taleitalei/flickr

The carnivvvvvores threw down a slab or two of rare beef steak. The bloodier, the better.

FotoosVanRobin/flickr

But when all was said and done (i.e., when the Random Number Generator spoke), the vinner’s red food of choice was decidedly PINK:

stickygooeychef/flickr

Now, I’m happy to announce that the ARC of Blessed by Cynthia Leitich Smith goes to —

WINNER HERE!

monday musings

November 15, 2010 ~ jama

andreajoseph/flickr

Why hello.

Come join me on the couch (I straightened everything up just for you). ☺

It’s mid-November and our wild turkeys are nowhere to be seen. Every year, right after Halloween, they sense the coming of mashed potatoes and gravy via wattle radar, and hightail it out of the country. Can’t say I blame them.

Continue reading →

my favorite veteran

November 11, 2010December 22, 2017 ~ jama

My mother, Margaret, and her younger brother, Joe.

Some people are fond of saying they “love a man in uniform.”

As for me, I’m proud to say, “my mother once wore a uniform.” Olive drab wool and khaki, to be exact, when she enlisted in the Women’s Army Corps back in World World II.

Margaret is in the 4th row from the top, far right.

In 1944, Margaret joined the first company of WACs from Hawai’i — a unique contingent of 59 women (ages 20 to 44) representing almost every ethnic group in the Islands, 15 languages spoken among them. All were “local girls,” most of whom had never been to the Mainland. They wanted to serve as well as see other parts of the country. About 50 of them were from O’ahu; some had been under enemy fire, others had seen their homes or businesses ravaged by bombers.

Continue reading →

tra la la and fiddle dee dee

November 10, 2010 ~ jama

whimsy studios/flickr

Books, books, books!

I’ve so many tasty tomes on my plate, I don’t know where to begin!

There are books to review,

books to slurp and chew,

books to wrap,

books in my lap (this one’s so good)!

I’ll tell you more about them all after my hot date with Paul. ☺

Have you seen this one yet? Just released two weeks ago, and it’s BIG and JUICY.

Ta!

*skips away*

friday feast: breaking bread, breaking hearts

November 5, 2010December 22, 2017 ~ jama ~ 2 Comments

“When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.” ~ Kahlil Gibran

simmer till done/flickr

EATING TOGETHER
by Kim Addonizio

I know my friend is going,
though she still sits there
across from me in the restaurant,
and leans over the table to dip
her bread in the oil on my plate; I know
how thick her hair used to be,
and what it takes for her to discard
her man’s cap partway through our meal,
to look straight at the young waiter
and smile when he asks
how we are liking it. She eats
as though starving — chicken, dolmata,
the buttery flakes of filo —
and what’s killing her
eats, too. I watch her lift
a glistening black olive and peel
the meat from the pit, watch
her fine long fingers, and her face,
puffy from medication. She lowers
her eyes to the food, pretending
not to know what I know. She’s going.
And we go on eating.

~ from What is This Thing Called Love (W.W. Norton & Co., 2005).

Filo Pastry with Goat Cheese and Spinach by Rooey202/flickr.

I came across this poem several years ago, just about the same time Len’s cousin Liz was diagnosed with colon cancer. I thought of this poem every time we met for dinner, unable to believe that the vibrant, adventurous, optimistic person sitting across from me had just survived another surgery, finished yet another course of chemo.