"THE CURE FOR ANYTHING..."

Isak Dinesen once wrote, "THE CURE FOR ANYTHING IS SALT WATER: SWEAT, TEARS, OR THE SEA.
I am in need of a cure and lately the sweat creating workouts aren't coming the way they used to, and tears...well, when my niece arrived, the crying stopped. It turned out that my crying disturbed her, so I stopped. Now, I try to cry, I need to cry, I have much emotion to purge, but the crying has stopped, despite my desire to sob a big sloppy one. I feel the urge often, I've lost so much in the past ten years and have much to cry about, but the urge is like the itch before the sneeze that then passes.

The opportunity came, via my husband's job, for us to travel to the Gulf Coast of Florida and I jumped at the chance. I have not been to the ocean's edge for 3 years and am in great need to feel and sync with the rhythm of the tide. In our planning we had much difficulty securing a place to stay, for whatever reason, everything was booked. Finally, after tweaking our dates, we have a plan! The plan, I'm certain was put in place especially for me, by powers of Grace.

This trip to the shore has come at a great time of need for me and my grief. I have understanding and realization now of the sequence of the events leading up to this trip, the necessity for it, and the Providence behind it. Let me explain, in February of 2009, I wrote the following down in my journal about a dream I had of my deceased sister. My sister, if you have been following along you know, was murdered by her boyfriend ten years ago this week. This is what is written in my journal, a premonition of sorts, or perhaps it was more of a subconscious request of mine made 8 months ago:

I dreamed what felt like more of a vision than a dream, that on the night my sister was killed by that man, I was there to help create a different future for both of us. I walked into her room, and without the need for words or one spoken sound, led her by the hand out of the apartment and away from him. We stood out in the street together looking into each others eyes with a knowing. The next time we were together was the present moment. I travelled to her home which set on a beautiful white sanded beach. When she answered the door, this time she took my hand and led me into her home where we sat together for hours just holding each other. The next day we walked hand in hand along the beach, walking where the ocean meets the sand, giggling and flirting with the waves. We laughed and smiled, we sat and talked, we were happy, and time and death had no place in our thoughts. We were together. She was alive, vibrant, and happy. Thoughts of this dream does bring tears to my eyes, happy ones. And I KNOW that she lives somewhere on a beautiful beach awaiting my visit.

I'm making that visit. I hope she joins me in spirit and blesses my broken heart and tormented soul with the same peace I feel when I recall that dream, that vision I had of her and her laughing light.

--Victoria Hart
Painting: Robert St. John http://rstjohnstudio.com/girls_on_beach.htm

JUNEBUG, I TAG THE FLUTTERING SHIRT OF YOU

I lost my sister to a violent death. She was taken from us by another, an angry other, but I try to block that from my mind and recall memories of her. I want to remember HER today, this anniversary of her death. I want to remember who she was, not how she died, struggling and fearful. My mother talks about those last moments of her life and I tell her that what I know in my heart to be true, and only in my heart: Angels came into that room while he was strangling her; they carried her to a more beautiful, serene place of peace while her body remained in the dying.
Ten years have past and I dig in my vaulted memory for the tenderness, her giggle, her playfulness, her, her, her...JuneBug. I am sad today. My soul calls out to her today with loud screaming voice, an aching wail, a sorrowful melody.

This poem by Carl Sandburg comforts me.

SHIRT
I REMEMBER once I ran after you and tagged the fluttering
shirt of you in the wind.
Once many days ago I drank a glassful of something and
the picture of you shivered and slid on top of the
stuff.
And again it was nobody else but you I heard in the
singing voice of a careless humming woman.
One night when I sat with chums telling stories at a
bonfire flickering red embers, in a language its own
talking to a spread of white stars:
It was you that slunk laughing
in the clumsy staggering shadows.
Broken answers of remembrance let me know you are
alive with a peering phantom face behind a doorway
somewhere in the city's push and fury
Or under a pack of moss and leaves waiting in silence
under a twist of oaken arms ready as ever to run
away again when I tag the fluttering shirt of you.

--Victoria Hart
photo credit: Diane Varner dianevarner.com

EGGPLANT LAMB CASSEROLE

I received a recipe for Eggplant from a high school friend recently: "Eggplant Cooked in the Pickling Style" by Madhur Jaffrey. After trying it, I was so inspired by the flavor and the combination of spices, that I decided to take them and a few other ingredients and create a casserole recipe to maximize the full meal effect....meat and veggies all in one. I didn't expect it to turn out so well, but my family and I could not get enough of it. The satisfying feeling this combination of ingredients gives the body creates a cry for more, more, more. I wish I was exaggerating here, but I myself, despite having a very small appetite, could not get enough of it. We had leftovers and used them in soft warm tortillas, and in ordinary sandwiches serving up a delightful change for the palette.
Thank you Leigh for inspiring me. Following the Casserole recipe is Leigh's Eggplant recipe taken from "Madhur Jaffrey's, Indian Cooking" cookbook. I hope you are able to try them both; they are truly delightful!

EGGPLANT LAMB CASSEROLE
2-3 (more is better!) medium size eggplant, cap cut off, cut into slices or wedges about 1/2 inch thick and about 2 inches long
1 tsp whole fennel seeds
1 med sized onion chopped
6 cloves garlic, chopped (I often use the pre-chopped jar version, 2-4 tsp)
1 inch cube of fresh ginger, peeled and coarsely chopped (I use 2 tsp of the pre-chopped jar version sold in the produce department)
3 med tomatoes chopped
1 tsp ground cumin powder
1 Tbs ground coriander
1/4 tsp ground turmeric
1/2 tsp ground cayenne pepper
8 oz sliced mushrooms (optional)
15 oz can tomato sauce
1 1/2 lbs ground lamb (may substitute ground beef or buffalo)
Combine cheese in a bowl:
1 cup smoked Gouda cheese, shredded
1 cup Pecorino-Romano or Parmesan cheese, shredded--bit more, if you like, for topping

Place single (it’s okay to overlap) layers of eggplant on cookie sheets coated with a few tablespoonfuls of olive oil, sprinkle with salt. Bake in preheated oven at 425 degrees F. Roast until fork-tender and brown, keep a close watch so as not to burn. Flip eggplant halfway through cooking process. (You will have more than one pan of eggplants in the oven at one time, be sure to alternate them on the racks while roasting.) Remove when cooked through and set aside.

On the stovetop: Heat skillet with 2-3 tablesponfuls olive oil, add fennel seeds and heat til toasted, add onions, garlic, ginger and cook until onion is transparent, add tomatoes and remaining spices (cumin, coriander, turmeric, cayenne). Cook until well blended and all cooked through. (Mushrooms are added to this mixture when adding spices, cook briefly, al dente, so to speak.) Stir in tomato sauce and remove from heat.

In separate skillet, brown lamb, turn and chop into smaller bits as it cooks. Remove from heat. Drain off oil.

Assemble: In a 9x13 inch baking dish, sides and bottom sprayed with oil, layer ingredients: 1/2 of eggplant, then 1/2 of the meat, then 1/2 of the onion mixture, top with 1/2 cheese mixture, and repeat. (I like a good bit of Pecorino-Romano cheese shredded for the topping, bit less of the Gouda---makes a good crunchy crust.)
Bake approximately 40 minutes, until bubbly, but not burnt!

This is delicious served over spaghetti squash, brown rice, couscous...or eaten alone.
ENJOY! This just gets better and better as leftovers!

--Victoria Hart

Leigh's Eggplant from Madhur Jaffrey's "Indian Cooking":
Eggplant Cooked in the Pickling Style

Serves 6
1 inch cube of fresh ginger, peeled and coarsely chopped
6 large cloves garlic, peeled
¼ cup water
1 ¾ lb eggplant (1 larger or 2 small)
1 ½ cups vegetable oil
1 tsp whole fennel seeds
½ tsp kalonji or whole cumin seeds (kalonji are black mustard seeds, you find them an Indian groceries)
3 medium tomatoes peeled and finely chopped (canned work well also)
1 Tbs ground coriander seeds
¼ tsp ground turmeric
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
1 ¼ tsp salt

Directions:
Put the ginger and garlic into an electric blender. Add ¼ cup of water and blend until fairly smooth.
Cut the eggplant into slices or wedges that are ¾ inch thick and about 1 1/2- 2 inches long. Set a sieve over a bowl.
Heat ½ cup of oil in a deep, 10-12 inch frying pan over medium-high heat. When hot, put in as many eggplant slices as the pan will hold in a single layer. Let them turn a reddish-brown color. Turn them over and brown the opposite sides. Remove the slices and put them in the sieve. Add another ½ cup oil to the pan and heat it. Continue browning all the eggplant until done. (Note, I have fried the eggplant and it soaks up a lot of oil. To make the dish a little healthier I now roast the eggplant in the oven. Cut the eggplant as directed, heat oven to 425. Spray so baking sheets with cooking spray and make a single layer of eggplant. Brush top of egg plant with a little oil. Roast for about 15-20 minutes)
Let the eggplant drain for about an hour to get rid of the excess oil.
Put 2 Tbs of oil in the frying pan and heat it over medium flame. When hot, put in the fennel seeds and kalonji. As soon as the fennel seeds turn a few shades darker (this takes just a few seconds), put in the chopped tomato, the ginger-garlic mixture, coriander, turmeric, cayenne and salt. Stir and cook for 5-6

This is a great side or vegetarian dish! Enjoy.

--Auntie V

GETTING THERE

There are many paths to one's destination in life. Sometimes the path we find ourselves on is not the one we would have chosen or planned for our journey. Despite that, the destination is still yours to have if you truly want it. Destinations are not always an actual physical location, for some it is a state of being or state of mind, such as the ideal self.

Don't be discouraged by the obstacles you encounter along the way to your destination. Don't get down on yourself-that behavior is equivalent to buying into the struggle or investing in the obstacle itself, and a belief that you are not worthy of attaining the goal you have set/your destination. Forge onward, despite the path, despite the obstacles, acknowledge them or not, you must simply walk around, move your focus to the place you want to be all the while accepting the here and now. Don't resist or refuse what is being revealed to you in the form of struggles; the path is your schooling. Now is the time to learn, you are being prepared to be the best person you can be when you reach your destination. Enjoy every step.

--Victoria Hart

SO...YOU THINK THAT’S FUNNY?

I’m a pretty funny girl, with an off-the-cuff sort of humor, relaxed and quick witted. When I worked as an RN, the staff and I often used humor to deal with difficult, flesh and blood, situations when there was an event or situation that was just too much to emote in any other way; we chose to laugh. Laughter brought us closer together when we couldn’t deal with the reality of the human condition. I’m all for it. I hold myself personally culpable for laughing irreverently behind the scenes. It wasn’t something we talked about later. It was a private uncontrollable expression of our loss or grief or uncomfortableness for the situation we found ourselves in. It was never directed towards anyone with the intent to harm. We were caretakers afterall. We cared. We cared so much, we grieved for people we barely knew. We grieved so many times during one shift, to survive we had to laugh.

Where would we be without humor in our daily challenges? Lost, I presume, sitting dumbfounded on some street corner without a compass. I am beginning to think many people are already lost as reflected in the type of humor they choose to use. Lost in the sense that they follow trends and lack independent thought. What I’m speaking about is the increased prevalence of sarcasm. You see, I don't get "sarcasm"...I mean, of course, I know what it means and I really understand how people make use of it. I strive to live my life expressing kindness and I simply choose to disagree with the use of sarcasm. I choose not to be sarcastic. When sarcasm is directed towards me, I respond with "what, excuse me?" and they often say, like the cat caught holding the bag, "oh, I didn't mean anything...I was being sarcastic." Really? Why say something you don't mean? Either express yourself freely, bravely, accurately or keep quiet and display a little class. Who is laughing by the way?

People wield sarcasm with pride as if it is a reflection of their intelligence or cleverness. I write this to inform you, in my opinion, sarcasm is a coward’s choice; express yourself without cruel innuendoes. Sarcasm speaks harshly and bitterly toward another with intent to wound. Wherein lies the humor? Use sarcasm and you weave a thread of hate into the cloth of your community. People do many things simply because they have observed similar behavior by others, and act without first questioning the ramifications. Ridiculing with words in the name of humor is not only hateful, heartless, and harmful but lacks integrity, and ...I ask again: who’s laughing? Which leads me to wonder if sarcasm is misunderstood by most people; the flock running toward the cliff.

Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, the least KIND, and I might add, the least humorous. Getting to the bottom of it, the true meaning of this very popular proclivity for insult, stems from the Latin word, sarcasmus, which in turn comes from the Greek sarkasmos, from sarkazein, meaning “to bite the lips in rage.” The root word, sarx, sark meaning literally “flesh”- translation: “to cut a piece of flesh (from the person it is directed toward).

Sarcasm is a platform used by the fearful to express their biased opinions toward another, glossing and hiding their feelings behind a tone of sarcasm. If you haven’t learned how to openly communicate your harsh feelings in kind ways, and many of us haven’t, then, for the peace of us all, politely keep them to yourself. If you’d like a bit of help, Webster offers understanding on alternate choices when you feel the need to add levity to the moment.

Forms of wit according to Merriam Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary:
Wit, Humor, Irony, Sarcasm, Satire, Repartee mean a mode of expression intended to arouse amusement. Wit suggests the power to evoke laughter by remarks showing verbal felicity or ingenuity, and swift perception, esp. of the incongruous. Humor implies an ability to perceive the ludicrous, the comical, and the absurd in human life and to express these usually without bitterness. Irony applies to a manner of expression in which the intended meaning is the opposite of what is seemingly expressed. Sarcasm applies to expression frequently in the form of irony that is intended to cut or wound. Satire applies to writing that exposes or ridicules conduct, doctrines, or institutions either by direct criticism or more often through irony, parody, or caricature. Repartee implies the power of answering quickly, pointedly, or wittily.

Lastly, I have always held the opinion that wit and all it’s forms all carry with them an underlying whisper of truth, yours, theirs, or ours as a collective.
Here are few quotes from folks who agree:

“ A JOKE IS A VERY SERIOUS THING.” --Winston Churchill

“SARCASM I NOW SEE TO BE, IN GENERAL, THE LANGUAGE OF THE DEVIL; FOR WHICH REASON I HAVE LONG SINCE AS GOOD AS RENOUNCED IT.” --Thomas Carlyle

“WE ARE SUFFERING FROM TOO MUCH SARCASM.” --Marianne Williamson


--Victoria Hart

A TEACHER, A DUMB BLONDE, AND AN AUNTIE...

My child returned home from school yesterday informing me that something had happened in class that just seemed wrong to her. She told me how, while she was clarifying her homework assignment with her Language Arts teacher, the teacher responded, “Don’t stand there and give me that dumb blonde look.” All the children in the room stopped their chatter and stared at my daughter, a few of them gasping with disbelief.

I wish a gasp was all that came out of my mouth. Seething and with a deep sternness to my voice, I struggled to control my rage toward the teacher's actions. I told my child I would be at the school the next day to speak with this teacher and the principal. “But, can’t you just send a note?...” she asked, fearful of further discord. That question sent me off on a teaching tangent of my own with my daughter, I began by explaining to her that her teacher is there to mentor her, protect her, not demean her. I explained that by going to the school we would be taking a stand for what is right on behalf of all the children. All the children in that classroom were harmed by this careless remark, this flagrant label thrown out and onto my little 12 year old girl.

How do I explain this complex issue to my little one? She has studied Hitler and knows a small bit about why we remember, why we discuss him in history, I decided to try by starting there. I reminded her that Hitler began his hate crusade, resulting in the murder of 6 million Jews and others, with one simple speech. One. At first, I'm sure, after hearing his words of "hate" many went home and had their own thoughts and discussions on how they felt about what he said. But, he continued to make his speech, repeatedly (among other tactics) until many people no longer had independent thoughts, no longer questioned or searched for the truth. Labeling, as in "Dumb Blonde,” just one example of many, creates the same mindlessness. Labeling people strips them of their humanity, removes the person from the scene and allows those standing and observing the freedom to feel and further express the hate thrown into the room and onto the person.

Hate clothes itself in many disguises. Name-calling or labeling a person to a particular category or stereotype is a form of hate resulting in a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts wherein the recipient or victim of the label will inevitably live up to the expectations and definitions of that label and along with the label comes preconceived ideas, connotations, discrimination, and worst of all, invites hate toward the individual from others, often without conscious awareness. It is a sneaky devil, a hate breeder. Sociologist Howard Becker, developed the Labeling Theory (also known as social reaction theory) in the book “The Outsiders” in 1963. The theory asserts that the process of labeling an individual by someone in a position of authority results in that person living up to the definitions of the label. One creates a situation far worse than the original one.

At the school the following day, I spoke with 2 principals and the Language Arts teacher. Upon my realization that the teacher was herself a blonde, compassion swept over my heart. I decided secretly to hold it there until I heard the teacher tell her side of the story. She did indeed agree that it was possible that she said something of the sort to my child. I expressed all my feelings about this situation to her and informed her that I am a “Seeker of Peace” and this set the tone for our meeting. I refuse the inclination to butt hate against hate, like the song by Todd Snider in which he says, “Fighting for peace is like screaming for quiet.” I do believe approaching a situation with an open heart and a reasonable mind results in a peaceful remedy. I further explained to these mentors I’ve entrusted, that my sister was murdered because of misplaced hate, my child was removed from a home with domestic violence to come live with me, and that my husband and I work very hard to teach our child self empowerment, but despite these reasons, I would still be sitting there making a wrong into a right. Maya Angelou has been quoted as saying and I too will say, “When you stand up, you stand up for everyone!”

Words are powerful, a knife cut heals, wounds inflicted by words almost never do, especially when a child is the recipient/victim. Thirty some odd children witnessed this teacher’s ill behavior and are highly likely to believe it is acceptable now, walking out of the room and continuing the subliminal messages of hate by using the same words. This was of great concern to me. I was there for every child, everyone. I expected an apology to be given to every child in that class along with my daughter. I expected this “slip” of the tongue, as the teacher put it, to be discussed at length with the children, telling them why we don’t generalize and label others, why we don’t use demeaning words, in other words, why we don’t breed hate. A teacher teaching by example.

You must realize, I am on constant watch for the guises of hate. I suffer a loss everyday because of hate. I sage smudge my house if I feel it has been intruded upon with hate energy. I leave the bad, sensationalized, tragic, unnecessary news presented by the media for others to view. I screen movies in my own home, so that I can decide to flip the violence and hate OFF. I guard and protect my heart and spirit because I know firsthand that hate can stealthily creep into your thoughts, and we are surrounded by it, inundated with it in every arena of our lives, from movies, to primetime television, to war games on Facebook, to shoot-em-up simulated video games, and even in the powerful melodies of our music. The brain is a malleable tissue and easily influenced.

Be careful my friends, be cautious about that which you let enter your mind through the media, what thoughts you allow yourself to think-be positive always, what seemingly benign phrases you toss out, who you associate with, what entertainment you engage in...choose wisely, or you too may find yourself, like this teacher, culpable.

By the way, my daughter happens to shine brilliance! The “dumb blonde” in the title....well, you can guess who that is.

--Victoria Hart

A.K.A. BITCHIN' IN THE KITCHEN

During a phone conversation with my brother yesterday, he asked, "What is the name of your blog again?" I began to explain why the name, such a serious name, "Auntie V's Life and Cookery" was chosen for this blog: I am raising my niece-Auntie has become my identity most hours of the day; I have many life experiences to discuss and share (many of you will ride along on that wave with me nodding, "yes, yes, I get that") such as: chronic illness-several; the murder of my sister by the hands of a man in a domestic situation, life and grief as the surviving victim of homicide, loss of a parent to cancer, marriage, adoption, post traumatic stress disorder/dysfunction (there are more applicable 4 letter words to describe this illness, and I'm not talking about "love"), living life following a mild traumatic brain injury, and then there is the life or the non-life of a generalized anxiety disorder agoraphobic, ...you get that picture clearly by now, although I could continue. The cookery part, well, who could bear to write about all the disastrous life bits all the time and besides isn't food a mini vacation? The real reason is that no matter what I am doing, I am doing it, usually, in the kitchen. My brother and I decided at precisely the same moment, consumed with laughter, that the alias name of my blog would be "Bitchin' in the Kitchen."

So welcome to "Bitchin' in the Kitchen" with your host, lost in the midst of certain chaos, touched and displaced by life's shocking blows, yes, you guessed it... Auntie V! I'm not irrational, just consumed by fear, confused by sleepless nights, hypoglycemic reactions or hyperglycemic distortion, post traumatic stress and the panic that comes with that i.e. "shakin in my boots" "can't leave the house" "are you talking to me?" Robert DeNiro paranoia (of course, I'm exaggerating). At times, I'm just an Auntie trying to figure out how to be a Mom. I am, in fact, one excellent cook. Test me, try the recipes.

Where did this life come from? Believe me, it is true, God made mountains so we couldn't see too far down the road. This was not on the 10 year plan, but this has been my life for all of 10 years and for some things, like the Diabetes, much longer than that. I am here to stay, even though at times I wonder how I can cope with one more minute and entertain the thought of running down the street screaming, or some similar escape. I'm not leaving yet, I've got a lot to share with you all and I hope it moves you in some way, hopefully not backward! Most importantly, I'm attempting to take this suffering not in vain, but as a lesson of life, a spiritual path to be followed and shared, to be communicated as the common human experience. I know we are all suffering, but we can do it together with peaceful love and support. We can hold hands just like in Kindergarten and we all will make it across the street together.
I tend to speak directly from the heart, but I enjoy laughing and hope to pass that along some as well.

If you hear me "Bitchin in the Kitchen" just know that the loving compassionate me is still here, seeking peace and understanding, I just sometimes have to lighten up a bit for the sake of us all! Anytime you feel like it, just chime right on in.

--A.k.a. Auntie V

THE EVACUATION OF HOPE

I welcome a guest post today, Susan Murphy Milano. Susan is a violence expert, safety consultant, the daughter and survivor of murder-suicide, author of "Defending Our Lives, getting away from domestic violence & staying safe and "Moving Out, Moving On" when a relationship goes wrong. And her new book out in 2010,"Time's Up" how to leave and survive a dangerous relationship ,offers detailed practical information.
This article of Susan's is an accurate representation of life as a surviving victim of homicide.


The Evacuation of Hope
By Susan Murphy Milano


I was a shaken as I read the news headline last week “Domestic Violence leads to yet another death Anne Morell Petrillo. Forget for a moment that this 38 year-old woman whom committed suicide was the daughter of heiress to the Scripps newspaper fortune.

In January of 1993, the then 22 year-old Anne found her mother Anne Scripps Douglas', 47, beaten and unconscious in the master bedroom of her New York home. Her mother never regained consciousness and died in the hospital a few days later. Anne’s step-father, a suspect, was not formally charged at the time for beating his wife to death with a hammer. He eventually committed suicide 3-months later jumping to his death from the exact same place that Anne Morell Petrillo chose to end her life.

In 1989, 5 years earlier, in Chicago, Roberta Murphy, also 47 years of age, would be discovered by her daughter, on the kitchen floor, dead with a bullet to the head. Philip Murphy a decorated violent crimes detective was in the bedroom dead of a self-inflicted gunshot to the head.

The question is, years after her mother’s murder why did Anne Morell Petrillo take her own life? Unfortunately, I know the answer.

The world expects surviving family members of homicide victims to transition the all consuming pain of loss into one of “getting on” or getting over the grief.” When a loved one dies under tragic circumstances the human mind plays the game of “if only I had gotten to the aid of that person” I could have saved them from being killed. If only I did not go out with my friends or not stopped for gas I could have somehow prevented the tragedy. A crime victim plays out the day, hour and moment leading up where the hands on the clock stopped moving to when they received the news or discovered the bloody body as if they were watching their lives while glued to a chair playing on a movie screen. The tragedy is paralyzing.

There are those who seemingly move past the grief like John Walsh whose son Adam was abducted and killed, Marc Klaas whose daughter Polly was sexually assaulted and murdered. But the truth is, they have not, instead each man has bravely channeled their energies to implement laws and hold the legal system accountable for those who prey on innocent and helpless children. Their “purpose driven life” is what allowed them to keep the grief and pain manageable, moving forward to help others.

As a society, there simply is no embrace in the aftermath of tragedy. Society dictates we all move on and as much as we try it is not possible to accomplish. Long after the lines of friends and family surround us in our darkest hour before our loved one is laid to rest, we as homicide victims are forced to proceed with our lives. Promises of remaining in contact by friends and family vanish when we attempt to talk about the tragedy or how much we miss the person. We are not invited out to dinner, nor called to see how we are doing. Instead, the survivor is pointed towards or referred to those in the mental health profession for guidance to assist them with the pain, because they too, those who knew us best prior to the tragedy, do not want to be reminded.

Twenty years have passed since the murder of my mother and suicide of my father. For me and thousands of others, each day is a constant struggle to find the hope and light that fuels our very existence.

Anne Morell Petrillo did not opt out of life because it was easy. She took her own life because society, those who initially surrounded and loved her, evacuated, taking with them the hope and light that she so desperately needed to survive.

Posted by Susan Murphy Milano on "Time's Up"
http://timesupblog.blogspot.com/
http://www.susanmurphymilano.com
http://murphymilanojournal.com
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/susanmurphy...
http://justiceinterrupted.blogspot.com
http://peace4missing.ning.com

For more information or to get help, please call:
THE NATIONAL DOMESTIC VIOLENCE HOTLINE at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233)
THE NATIONAL SEXUAL ASSAULT HOTLINE AT 1-800-656-4673
All calls are anonymous and confidential.
For information on “Making a safety plan” go to website: http://www.aardvarc.org/dv/plan.shtml or visit The National Domestic Violence Hotline website: http://www.ndvh.org/
Keep in mind, all computer (and cell phone) use can be monitored; use a computer away from home!

LOVE and QUICHE...

My husband prepared brunch for me at his house on our second date. I drove from Denver up high into the mountains to his lovely home on a most gorgeous fall day. When I got there, he had prepared for us fresh fruit, fresh orange juice, and homemade, he made, quiche. I was delighted and it was delicious. After filling our bellies we set out for a hike and the exchange of good conversation. He was a very attractive man, and I should say still is, but I was a bit jaded about guys at the time and it would take more to impress me. No doubt the quiche was good, the hike was lovely, but it wasn't until I was leaving that I really saw him, that I was interested in him. The simplest act can reveal one's true character; as he walked me out to my car he noticed my front license plate was hanging by one screw, he grabbed a screwdriver, climbed under the front bumper, down in the dirt and fixed it without even a second thought. Then he had my attention, and kept it, we were married 8 months later. We are still together after 13 years and when I need him, he is always ready to help. If I'm lucky, he makes the quiche!
I'm not saying this will work for all of you looking to win your love over, but there is conclusive evidence! Starting with the quiche is a good idea.

This recipe takes time, but is simple and it makes a lot, so you can keep it in the fridge and get a few meals out of it. (This also presents well when inviting friends over for dinner or breakfast.)


Crustless Spinach Quiche:

6 scallions, chopped or 1/2 onion chopped
2 jalapenos minced (optional)
2 tspfuls minced garlic
1/2 medium sized red bell pepper chopped (optional)
1 lb baby spinach leaves, or chopped mature spinach leaves

Saute in olive oil first 4 ingredients until tender, add spinach, turn heat down and allow moisture to cook off, this will take several minutes.

In the meantime, in a bowl combine the following:
7 eggs beaten with 1 Tablespoon cream
1 lb Muenster cheese shredded
1/2 lb smoked Gouda shredded
8 oz sliced cremini or button mushrooms
salt and pepper to taste
1 can, 8 oz or 16 oz, canned Salmon, drained, picked over, flaked, (optional-I often opt out on this ingredient, personal preference, but it is a nice change at times and makes much more of a complete meal if added.)

Combine skillet mixture with egg mixture and blend. Pour into 2 qt capacity round casserole dish prepped with cooking spray, (bottom and sides.) Spread evenly in pan, bake at 350 degrees for approximately 45 mins, check center with fork or toothpick for wetness; quiche will continue to cook a bit after removing from oven so a little bit of wetness on fork is desired, use your best judgment here. Allow to cool a bit before serving or refrigerate and serve later chilled.
This is fantastic alone, or served with fruit or a salad.

Remember, it's just food; Have Fun! and Enjoy.
--Victoria

Tortilla Chicken Soup- Even Better!

I made this recipe again today, and as typical to my character, decided I could adjust a few things and make it even better. I think you will find it hits the spot of your soul! Feel free to exercise your own artistic flair.

Chili today, hot tamale, well not exactly...It is cold outside, at least to me, any temp below 70 is cold to me. I'm dreaming of soup to warm my chilly body. This is a simple recipe any one can make and it's especially great to throw together after work when you need something toasty for your bones. There really is no prep work, except for chopping the chicken; it's a no sweat meal! But if you'd like to sweat, make it as spicy as you like by adding more peppers. I like to crunch tortilla chips on top of my bowl with a healthy lump of sour cream, shredded cheese, and chopped avocado. mmmmmm.....It's best served with a beer!


TORTILLA CHICKEN SOUP

(Note--I double this recipe-everything except the chicken, and I add extra chilies to make it spicy hot)

2 Cups Tortilla Chips-I use white corn
1 Seasoned Rotisserie Chicken, boned, skinned, chopped
2 tablespoonfuls Olive Oil
2 19-oz cans Cannellini beans, drained
6 oz shredded Monterey Jack Cheese with jalapeno peppers (1 1/2 cups)
2 4.5-oz can diced green chillies, not drained, (I use hot and mild)
1 14-oz can chicken broth
1 bunch green chives, cut with scissors in small bits
2 pinches cumin

In soup pot: heat oil, add chicken and chives and heat through (add chopped jalapenos at this stage if you want more heat and cook through), add beans, cheese, chilies, broth, heat to boiling. (At this stage, and this is optional, I like to use a potato masher and mash about 2/3 of the beans-I like beans stewed for hours, so I mash them to make it seem as if they have been!) Add crushed tortilla chips and reduce heat to simmer. Simmer, uncovered until chips break down and thicken, stir often! Add water or more chicken broth if needed to maintain medium consistency, like a chili. (campbell's chicken soup is thin consistency). Cook, stirring often, on stovetop for about 30 minutes, or until all ingredients meld.
Serve and top with sour cream, avocado, cheese, chopped chives, and for extra heat chopped jalapenos tossed in. This gets better after a day in the fridge, if you have any left over.

ENJOY,
Victoria

Missing Sister

My sister came to me today in a Spirit Guide meditation. She was dressed beautifully in flowing reds and yellows. We met on a mountain forest trail on a warm sunny day. I held her close to me tightly for the longest time, taking in the smell of her hair, her skin, the feel of her heartbeat against my chest. When she pulled away she looked me in the eye and said, "You need to let go of all of this now." I told her how deeply I wanted to, but that I couldn't remember any of the good times. I felt all I had left of her was her cold form lying in the coffin, the words echoing in the courtroom, the autopsy photos; the smell of death in her apartment. She said, "I'm here with you. I'll send memories of the good times to you, don't worry about me." I couldn't let go of her, she told me to say goodbye, so I did and she walked away.
I struggle to release myself from the grief and all that has come my way since her death. Today, I practiced a type of visualization to further my goal of releasing the trauma and grief from my body. I highly recommend Shakti Gawain's book, "Creative Visualization" as a guide to anyone, to everyone.

I am opening my heart and mind to receive all the good of my sister and release all the memories of her murder's act. God be with me and all of you suffering with loss.

DEAR SISTER,

I MISS YOU SISTER LIKE A THUMB CUT FROM MY HAND.

I HAVEN'T SLEPT IN YEARS,
YOU KEEP CALLING ME IN MY DREAMS.

HOW DO I MAKE MY WAY BACK TO YOU?

ALL NIGHT I SEARCH FOR YOU ONLY TO AWAKEN EXHAUSTED AND ALONE.

YOUR NEED FOR ME CROSSES TIME AND SPACE.
MY NEED FOR YOU, CROSSES ME.

MEMORIES OF YOU CHURN, AGITATE, TOSS AND TURN ME.

I'M SORRY FOR YOU,
I'M SORRY FOR ME WITHOUT YOU.

SINCE YOUR DEATH,
IT HAS TAKEN YEARS FOR ME TO MOVE FORWARD, AT TIMES I FALL BACK STILL.

LIKE A HAND WITHOUT A THUMB, I CEASE TO FUNCTION.

I'M WAITING FOR YOU, BEHIND MY THOUGHTS, IN MY DREAMS.

DO I REALLY EXPECT YOUR RETURN?
********************************************************************************

My sister, June, was murdered by her boyfriend on October 28, 1999. What is it about a 10 year anniversary that makes one stand still? I am haunted, hunted, and caged by grief. I struggle to remember her life, but sadly, I'm tormented by her violent death. Peace come to me, please. I love you JuneBug.

--Victoria Hart