Friday Food: my darling clementine

The best clementines come from Spain, where all of the fruit is amazing. 

So says my Spanish daughter. 

I am sure it is true. But those clementines will not be here until Christmas. We must wait to confirm her truth.  

This clementine is here now, a small sweet wallop of flavor imported from Peru. 

For all the trouble it takes to get it here, it is amazingly easy to eat. 

Usually I have eaten one before I even notice, the simplicity of eating lost in a preoccupation with something else - reading, checking Facebook, talking, watching TV. I reach for another, the first having barely registered. 

But today, I decided to be intentional about my little clementine. 

Woman with an Orange, Jules Joseph Lefebvre (1836-1911)

To all the theater men I've loved before

Theater and men.

They go together for me like shrimp and grits, like wine and cheese, like Baby Jane and Blanche. I even met my husband through the theater.

So indulge me while I take a trip down Theater Memory Lane.

Today, in honor of Throw Back Thursday, I want to acknowledge just a few of the exceptional men I have had the privilege to know and love because of theater.

putting on my perspectacles

As a blogger, I am really slack. I haven't written a post since August 6. Today is August 20. That is slack.

As a writer, I am really slack. After publishing my first memoir, in January the day before I turned 50 (nothing like waiting until the last minute), I have been "working" on a novel. So far that consists of an outline, a synopsis, and a bajillion pages of notes. It's an important story. My synopsis moves people to tears. I need to finish it. It scares me to death. Slack.

As a mentor, I am really slack. I mentor a young girl at a local elementary school. My meetings with her don't start until September, so I'm not slack with her. Yet. But I also mentor a writing colleague and friend. I love her but I haven't seen in nearly a month. That's slack.

my husband made me cry in the driveway

It started out a normal morning.

It was Monday, the first day back to work after a week of vacation. The alarm clock rang far too early. We were tired. How can you be tired after a week of relaxing on a houseboat? I don't know, but we were.

We fell back into our routine as soon as our feet hit the floor. Dogs outside, start coffee, shower, dress, breakfast, goodbye kiss, out the door.

Everything seemed normal.