fiction

Ray’s Recipe for one: Mom’s Secret Bean Soup

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I grew up in an Italian family surrounded by other Italian families, it wasn’t Italy. It wasn’t near Italy. If garlic is a spring fragrance, it was always spring.  No one ever complained about bad breath – because we all had bad breath if you think garlic breath is offensive.

Every meal my mom cooked began with a base of garlic and onions sautéed in EVOO. It was the base for sauce, stuffing for the Thanksgiving turkey, and of course the family staple, meatballs.

My mom was not one to share recipes. She guarded her recipes like the government guards Fort Knox. Why am I sharing this segment of my life story with you? God only knows. Maybe I ate one too many pistachios at lunch. Hey, it’s my weird sense of humor.I’m going to show you how to make my mom’s healthy Pasta

Enough of my digressing. I’m going to show you how to make my mom’s healthy Pasta Fagoli, AKA Italian bean soup. Well, sort of, because she never shared the recipe. I am going on memory. She never wrote it down, it was a little of this, a little of that, a pinch here and a pinch there until it tasted the way she wanted it to taste. Once here taste buds sent the signal that it was perfect, we could sneak spoonfuls of soup from the big pot. I may not get her recipe right but the bean soup I make is awesome. My statement is based on reviews, don’t believe me? Check out Google or Yelp. Please don’t. I admit I’m the reviewer. But, I liked it so much I ate four bowls.

First things first – use garlic at your own peril – I’m still working off my garlic overload from childhood.

Essential tools: Slow cooker, slow cooker liner, can of kidney beans, red wine, and a box of crushed tomatoes.

I buy the low sodium kidney beans, don’t panic. If you prefer high blood pressure, pour in the salt to taste. The first task, line the slow cooker. I’m not lazy, I just don’t like cleaning a slow cooker after dinner. I open the can of beans. I use an electric can opener. I save my energy for the gym. I pour the can of beans into the slow cooker, sans top. What can be more fun than that? Don’t answer. I empty the box of crushed tomatoes on top of the beans – let’s party. Is it Cinco de Mayo yet? We need some liquid – I put two cups of low sodium chicken broth in the cooker.

I empty the box of crushed tomatoes on top of the beans – let’s party. Is it Cinco de Mayo yet? We need some liquid – I put two cups of low sodium chicken broth in the cooker.  Notice the low sodium theme? Time for vino – No, we’re not going to go to a wine tasting event. I take out the cork of my inexpensive, yet tasty Merlot, tilt the bottle and make the tomatoes, beans, and broth happy. How much wine you ask? I don’t measure, so I’ll say a good splash. I sprinkle crushed red pepper on the mix, and a shake or two of Italian seasonings. I turn the cooker on and set it for 8 hours. I’m going to leave it alone for tour hour. Before I take off, I scoot to the herb garden and harvest rosemary and basil. The plant to the left is basil. The plant to the right is rosemary.

I’m going to leave it alone for four hours. Time flies when you’re having fun. The four hours are up. It’s time to kick it up a notch. I cut up a poblano and jalapeno (mom would approve – I live in San Antonio – When in San Antonio, do as the San Antonians do). Add onion, a red pepper, yellow pepper and put the top on. One hour before I eat, I’ll add a bit of chopped kale and a third cup of pasta (it’s not bean soup without pasta). IMG_6502.jpg

A half hour before the soup is done, it’s fragrance is making my stomach scream for a taste – I give in to quiet it down. Oh man, it is good. Time to grate the Parmigiano Reggiano.

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Thanks Mom. I love this soup.

Ray’s Recipe for One: Tofu Tacos

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Help, I am being held prisoner by vegans. They’re being nice to me, but I like my Greek yogurt. I like an occasional piece of chicken. I’ll even make a roll-up with Boar’s Head no salt added turkey. The vegans told me it is an intervention for my own good. Oh mercy, mercy. I have to eat broccoli, edema, kale, Brussel sprouts (ugh!), quinoa, and beans. Need I go on. Don’t get me wrong, I like broccoli, kale, quinoa, and beans. But life is more than that.

They promised to let me go if I promised to make tofu tacos. Hey, I live in San Antonio. A tofu taco? I’ll have a taco cartel on my case. And, rightly so. The vegans said it would be healthy, full of protein, and taste great. I’m not one to quibble. I agreed to make the dish and report it on my blog. You should have heard the cheering. They quickly cut the seaweed bonds from my hands, gave me a drink of champagne, or should I say wheat grass (where’s the Listerine, por favor). We had a group hug. They made me promise to take the tofu tacos to one of their vegan potluck dinners.

Here are a couple of tofu tips for carnivores: 1) You won’t find tofu at the meat counter. You won’t find it in the bakery or with the chips, although you may find vegans checking out the chips. I’m not suggesting the chip aisle is a good place to meet vegans. But you never know. Best bet, ask one of the store clerks where they keep it. Honestly, it is really, really hard for a guy to ask directions. We’d rather drive a hundred miles in a wrong direction and claim it’s a shortcut instead of asking for help. I can see Babe now nodding her head in agreement. When I finally set my hubris aside and asked for help, they told me the tofu was in its logical place, right next to the mushrooms, and packaged organic spinach. I don’t want to question the wisdom of the placed, but there must be a better place. 2) Only purchase the extra firm (hard as a brick, I wish) tofu. Tofu is really good for you. According to the BBC, “Tofu is a good source of protein and contains all eight essential amino acids. It is also an excellent source of iron and calcium and the minerals manganese, selenium and phosphorous. In addition, tofu is a good source of magnesium, copper, zinc and vitamin B1.”

I cut the block of tofu in half. I wrap the half I’m going to use in paper towels to dry it out. It’s going to be wet, so I have to use more paper towels. Paper towels are expensive, money doesn’t grow on trees unless its Bounty. My brand of choice. The squares in the 1st picture are not dominoes. They’re, mas o meno, all alike, but like fingerprints, none of my tofu squares are alike. I baste them with a mixture of EVOO, ginger, and turmeric. Ye gads you’re shouting the intervention got to him. Ray has to be deprogrammed. Trust me, it’s going to turn out. The third photo shows the tofu ready for the skillet.

Turn up the sizzle. I have the heat turned way up. I have a splash of EVOO in the pan and it’s popping. I put the tofu in and let it go. I have time to check my email, see who retweeted me on Twitter before I have to flip these babies. Gentle on the flipping, tofu is very sensitive. When the tofu is about 90% done, I add my cut up poblano, red, and green peppers and onion. We’re making tacos right? What’s a taco without that combo? I got this. It’s all under control. I think I’ll have a sip of my iced tea.

I transfer my tofu and veggies to a bowl. I get my tortillas ready. You can see the brand I use – low in calories, high in protein and fiber. If you see the lower left-hand corner of the tortilla package torn, it’s the way a guy opens a package. Why get the scissors when brute force is better. You’re looking at one healthy, good for the heart meal. After I roll and eat my tacos, I’m sending my vegan friends a thank you letter. They did not, however, convert me.

 

 

Ray’s Recipe for one: Pizza, the Perfect Food

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I have good friends in the UK and I owe them one! National Pizza Day was started in the UK. February 9th. I’ve already circled it on the calendar. I’ll make a pizza calendar. The new year beginning February 9.  I can’t help myself, I was weaned on pizza, meatballs, macaroni, spaghetti, pasta fagioli (to the uninitiated, bean soup), and hard crusty Italian bread. I grew up hearing my dad say pizza was the perfect food and the other Italian foods were a close second. I never dared tell my dad I doubted him, even when he was in his nineties.

You are already thinking Ray’s going to tell us how to make pizza. Wrong, I’m going to tell you how to make a kale salad. Whoa, slow down, only kidding. I hear my dad whistling from heaven. Kale move over, you’re not the perfect health food and take your friend’s broccoli, spinach, and edema with you. The perfect food is pizza. I’ve locked the doors, turned off the iPhone, no harassing calls from the health police or Whole Foods, por favor.

Pizza is the universal, speaks all languages food. It is the one food that can unite the world, contribute to world peace, and stop global warming. Okay, I’m a first-born Italian male and given to exaggeration. All kidding aside, I can’t stop kidding. I don’t want to tell you how many detentions I got in school, it wasn’t pretty. I thought they added an extra hour of the school day to honor me.

Think about pizza possibilities. My uncle Tony liked anchovies on his pizza. Uncle Carmen, sausage. Uncle Joe, pepperoni. My dad, hot peppers, and salami. Uncle Pete, olives and ground beef. A party night for the extended family was like eating at the UN. Go for it. Pour on any kind of meat you want, the more the better. Don’t forget to triple cheese it. Me? I eat healthily. I can see my dad rolling his eyes. I’m going to give you my great tasting, eat it every night of the week and take it for lunch pizza. You’ll develop a six-pack, be able to do one-armed pushups. And, beat the Ethiopians in the Boston Marathon. Hey, I told you I was prone to exaggeration.

The Basics. Every great pizza has two basic ingredients, the crust, and the sauce. Ray’s rule, make it easy, healthy, and tasty. The crust takes ten seconds. “Ten seconds, you say? Surely, you jest.” I hear you. That’s how long it takes me to cut open a package of Flatout flatbread. There are six in a pack. I eat two flatbread pizzas. Let’s see, I’ll use my iPhone and ask Siri. I’m talking to Siri. She’ patiently listening. I’m waiting for Siri.  She must be getting her nails done. Here she is, listen in, “Ray, you’ll have enough flatbread for three meals. Yum.” I say thanks to Siri. I have to talk to someone since I live alone.

I use the Flatout bread, it has extra protein and fiber, a healthy choice. I continue on the easy road. I line a pan with Reynolds Wrap non-stick aluminum foil. I saved a whole step. I’m on a roll. No, make that a pizza pan. The directions on the Flatout wrapper (I actually read the directions. Well, most of them. I stopped after I read, “Read the directions first.” It’s a guy thing. I put the flatbreads in an oven preheated to 380 for three minutes. In the meantime, I stir-fry my veggies. I said it’s going to be healthy. Toss out the vitamins. They’re going on my pizza.

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You got to love this combo. I have jalapenos, a poblano pepper, a red pepper, and onions. I use my EVOO to make it even healthier. I put the cover on the pan. I use crushed tomatoes as my sauce. I like the CIRIO brand. Why? The name ends in a vowel like mine. Really, the crushed tomatoes are awesome.They are non-GMO (Does that stand for Good Morning Oregon?). I use my crushed tomatoes to cover the flatbreads once I pull them out of the sauna (AKA oven). Once I cover the flatbreads with the tomatoes, the flatbreads go back in the sauna for another three minutes. I want the tomatoes hot. Siri does the countdown for me. When she gives me the ring, I pull the flatbreads out, add fresh-cut basil and my veggies. I cover the flatbreads with non-fat Kraft mozzarella cheese and sliced tomatoes. They’re ready to go back in the sauna to melt the cheese.

Another few minutes and I’m ready to party – party for one that is. There will be no prisoners for this meal.

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Hold On

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Keep Your Eyes on the Prize

Paul and Silas, bound in jail
Had no money for to go their bail
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on
Hold on, (hold on), hold on, (hold on)
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on!
Hold on, (hold on), hold on, (hold on)
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on!
 
Paul and Silas began to shout
Doors popped open, and they walked out
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on
Hold on, (hold on), hold on, (hold on)
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on!
 
Well, the only chains that we can stand
Are the chains of hand in hand
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on  – African American Folk Song
Life happens. It happens to everyone. We have no idea what the next moment will bring. Life happens. In moments of triumph, we shout for joy. In moments of happiness, we laugh, dance, and sing. I moments of sorrow, we cry and fight despair and depression. Life happens.
Hold on. Hold on. Keep your eyes on the prize as the African American folk song encourages us to do. In our darkest hours, hold on, there is a way through, there is a way out. Hold on. Keep your eyes on the prize. It’s there waiting for you and me.

Ray’s Recipe For One: Your Heart Will Love This Tuna Salad

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Yesterday was Easter Sunday. I am a most fortunate guy. I have great neighbors. My backyard neighbor invited me to join her family for Easter Sunday dinner. She is a great cook and sensitive to my weird healthy dietary habits – A special thank you, T!

Let’s see. I want to make sure I have it right. If yesterday was Sunday, and a special one at that, today is get back on track day, a great day, and a Monday all rolled up into one. It doesn’t get much better. Unless it is Friday. Fridays are always good. I also like Wednesdays, hump day. Don’t forget Tuesdays and Thursdays, they’re the slices of bread surrounding hump day, and are always good, especially if they’re whole grain (Sometimes, I don’t get my attempts at humor.). If you think I’m forgetting about the weekends, no way – I was made for weekends. All of this brings me back to today, Monday. It’s a healthy eating, high on protein, light on the calories, nutritious, light up your life kind of meal. With that great intro, back by popular demand, one night only, buy your tickets in advance, hold the applause for Tuna Salad!

The exit doors are locked. Don’t think boring when you think Tuna Salad. Reread Herman Melville’s, Moby Dick? Okay, we’re not talking the great white whale and Captain Ahab. We’re talking something better, white, albacore Tuna, packed in water. When you finish consuming your tuna salad with this recipe, you’ll be able to leap tall building with a single bound. You’ll be faster than a speeding bullet. Hold that thought, I just got through watching a rerun of Superman.

Put away the fishing pole. Cancel reservations for the deep sea expedition. Take a trip to your local supermarket or Amazon and pick up a pouch, packet, skinny envelope of the gold, white albacore Tuna packed in water. Make sure it has the the American Heart Association symbol for heart healthy on it. Mine looks like this:

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We’re talking easy, squeezy here. Tear open the top, use a fork to drop the tuna into a bowl – there is no scaling, cleaning, and fish intestines (I’m a guy, with a live little boy inside me. I was going to say guts instead of intestines, but the Food Channel might be reading). I make my tuna around noontime so it can chill in the fridge while I spend my day blogging, tweeting, exercising, and trying to find cheap flights to Vegas.

I mash (guy speak) the tuna, do the Texas two-step to the fridge, grab the low-fat mayo in one one hand. My other hand seeks out a jalapeno, cucumber, and cilantro. You may ask yourself, ‘Why didn’t he make two trips to the fridge?’ If you’re a guy reading this, you understand. If not, it’s wired into our genes, it goes back to when we were barely standing erect, much like some of my high school friends. Let’s just say, they were insensitive to how others felt.

I use a slicer – Be careful amigo, you could lose the tip of a finger. Although, it would add some protein to the tuna (that’s the little boy again). I don’t use it with the cilantro. I use cooking scissors. I take the paper thin jalapeno and cucumber slices, chop, chop with the knife into smaller cubes and put the trio in with tuna and mayo and mix. Five minutes, twenty seconds start to finish. Now you understand the need for the two hand approach in the fridge. I was going for new PR. The tuna goes in the fridge. I put Siran wrap on it first. I’m letting it chill. It’s Y time. The elliptical machine will worry about me if I’m a no-show.

A half hour before dinner, I pull out my salad greens, cherry tomatoes, the remains of the cucumber, and almonds (yes, I keep my almonds in the fridge – they like to chill out.). The box says triple washed, ready to eat baby kale and baby spinach. I don’t argue with the ready to eat wording. I take a large handful and put it into a large bowl (I did wash my hands before I started). I use the slicer on a thicker setting with the cucumber – the reason? I’m trying to make this look nice for you and Pinterest. I eyeball the cherry tomatoes and cut them in halves. Sprinkle almonds around in a male haphazard manner and I can see the finish line. I turn to my salad dressing of choice, Modena balsamic vinegarette, and EVOO. Think healthy heart. A healthy heart is a happy heart – that’s what my veterinarian told me when I had my yearly physical. I still don’t understand when she checks my stomach my right leg involuntarily jumps at 80 miles an hour.

We’re almost done, stay in your saddle for a few more seconds. Back to the fridge, the tuna is waiting. I take it out and place it as neat as a guy can on the salad. Dinner is ready. It’s easy, healthy, and an attitude popping meal.

Now the whole truth and nothing but the truth. After the photo on the right. I plopped (guy speak) the rest of the tuna on my salad. My oh my it was good. I give it two thumbs up.

I Am An Easter Person

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Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song. 
– Pope John Paul II

I am an Easter person. My hopes rise with the risen Lord. My heart sings out in a joyful song joining all who rejoice with me. I am an Easter person. Hope fills me to overflowing, flooding the street in front of me. I am Easter person. Fears and doubts evaporate with the dew. I set my course. My eyes on my destination. I am an Easter person.

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Ray’s Recipe “Not So Shrimp Salad”

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Some word combinations drive me nuts (I apologize for any offense I caused almonds, walnuts, pistachio’s, Brazil nuts. I’d add peanuts, but peanuts, everyone knows you’re a legume. I don’t mind you crashing the nut fiesta, but be proud of your heritage.). What’s that? Did I hear a resounding, “No offense taken?”

The word combination I’m talking about is shrimp salad. For a growing guy, shrimp salad is an oxymoron. I need a shrimp salad like I need a hole in the head. Forget the simile, it belongs to my dad and I used it in a previous post. Shrimp salad is something that will cost me at least twelve bucks at a restaurant and I’m supposed to be happy with six grilled shrimp stuck in arugula, drizzled with the super secret, locked in the vault, even Wikileaks couldn’t hack into the file, recipe. I’m not talking the cost for drinks, appetizer, and tip. The snooty waiter expects a 25% tip, the extra ten percent is for the snoot factor. I leave feeling hungry (I suggest to my friend we head out for pizza, por favor).

My dilemma, I like shrimp. So I’m going for it. I’m making a man-sized, growing boy, kind of shrimp salad. Modify how I make it fit your appetite. I work out an hour and a half a day. I have to stay in shape to blog. That’s what my doctor told me. I don’t care if she’s a veterinarian. She’s patient friendly.

I’m keeping it simple, not for you. For me. I can juggle a Giam exercise ball on a good day. Yes, that’s one large, inflated ball that supposed to work the kinks out of my back. I start with the bowl. Of course, I choose a large bowl. I fill it with baby spinach and baby kale. Make sure it’s washed. Mom always told me, “Ray wash before eating.” The same goes for salad greens and the bowl. It gets lonely in a large bowl without friends, ever try it? It’s not fun. Let’s have a party, no RSVPs needed. Grape tomatoes, almonds (I made peace with the nuts, recall?), softened cranberries, Modena vinegarette, and a healthy splash (guy measure – what’s a tablespoon? Something to set on the table – so lame – don’t write the lame joke police) of EVOO.

 

It’s almost time to bring shrimp into the picture. Hold that thought. I don’t know about your shrimp, mine are mighty particular. They refuse to jump in the pan until it is the way they ordered it. I know a couple of people like that, not anyone reading this blog – you all know who I mean. Fill in the blank, right?

I put the skillet on, spray it with Pam and add two splashes of EVOO. How much is a splash you ask? Enough to swirl around the pan and see my reflection in the EVOO. I toss in rosemary (no, not a human being, the herb, and basil. Check out the first photo below, that’s rosemary and her friend basil. I have the skillet on high, the EVOO is telling me it’s ready – small popping noises. I toss in the rosemary, basil, and a scooch of garlic. I mush it all around until the garlic browns, and then …

IT’S TIME FOR THE STAR – OR, I SHOULD SAY STARS.  Yes, they arrive, ready for red carpet. There will be no prisoners, no leftovers, no waiting for lunch tomorrow to finish these babies. They’re hitting the digestive track tonight. It’s a six-step process – not hitting the digestive track, but in the shrimp prep.

Step one: Buy frozen, already cooked, peeled, and deveined shrimp.

Step two: Take the bag of shrimp out of the freezer.

Step three: Count out the number of shrimp you want to eat – I counted 16.

Step Four: Put them in a microwaveable bowl and nuke them for 45 seconds, mas o meno. They should feel chilled, but not frozen when you take them out.

Step five: As soon as the garlic is brown, toss (lovingly) the shrimp in the pan.

Step six: Sautee the shrimp with the rosemary and garlic and any other seasonings until they are done.

Check the photos below: Looking at the bottom photo is making me hungry.

It’s not going to take too long. No time to check Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or call mom. Well, I can’t call mom, she’s with dad and Babe looking down on me and sending me a LOL.

Here’s the finished product. The green stuff at the top is guacamole. Fresh blackberries and strawberries for desert. It’s Texas, I have to have a Texas-sized iced tea to go with my meal.

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Enjoy!

Ray’s Recipe: Joy of Pizza (Mexican, that is)

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I’m in the mood for pizza, Mexican pizza that is. If I were living in New York, I’d head down to Little Italy. If I were in Boston, off to the North End. I’m of Italian descent, pizza is a marked on my DNA. At least that’s what came back when I sent a sample of my saliva for DNA analysis to Tony’s Pizzeria. I live in San Antonio, I go with the local cuisine, which by the way is awesome. Maybe I’ll a plug from the Chamber of Commerce. Then again, maybe not.

Mexican Pizza is perfect for an easy, good tasting, healthy meal. Let’s start with easy. It’s as easy as uno, dos, tres. It’s Mexican pizza, right? It’s a requirement I count in Spanish. What can be easier than a can of Bush’s reduced sodium pinto beans?

Step by step if you read directions. If you’re a guy, just go with the photos and pretend you’re reading. That’s what I do.

  1. Hold can firmly in the right hand, insert the can into the electric can opener. Turn on the can opener. Remove can. Don’t forget to recycle the top and the can when rinsed.
  2. Drain the can – caution, don’t dump the beans out when you drain the can (this warning is for absently minded challenged people – did I get that politically correct?).
  3. Put the beans in a blender. If you need a bit of salt or pepper or other seasonings, this is the time. You don’t want to do it after the dance is over. Where did that metaphor come from? Too much iced tea at lunch I think.
  4. I turn the oven on to 380 – It takes a few minutes to heat up. At the same time, I have a poblano pepper, onion, and green pepper doing the salsa in the sizzling hot pan. I toss in a bit of red crushed pepper (guy speak, toss means unmeasured, looks good, go for it).

    5. I place two, high fiber, high protein, low calorie tortilla on a baking sheet. I baste them with EVOO and zip them in the oven for two and a half minutes. This step lets the tortillas know I mean business. No fooling around. It frijole time. I smooth my bean mix over the tortillas, artistic enough to be sold at a garage sale for fifty cents if you’re into tortilla ornaments. I pace sliced tomatoes around the edges of the tortillas, basically to cover up the spots I missed with the beans. There I go, spilling the beans. Forgive the lame joke, por favor. I stick the bean and tomato covered tortillas back in the oven for three minutes to get them good and hot. When I pull the pan out, I cover my tortillas with my poplano, onions, and green pepper mix. I add non-fat mozzarella from Kraft, and put the whole thing back into the oven. Now, it’s eyeballing time. I can’t watch ESPN. I can’t check my Twitter feed. I can’t text. Well, I can do all those things, and I can do them all at once. I can even use the remote at the same time. I force myself to keep a close eye on the oven. I know it’s ready when the cheese is perfectly melted. Now how hard is that? On a scale of one to ten, I’d give it a 7. That gives me three spaces to play with.

    Finished product. I hide one pizza from view (it looks good BTW). Please take note of my guacamole (guacamole goes with everything even my oatmeal). If you make this meal, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did and as much I did writing this post.

Learning to Let Go

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When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be. When I let go of what I have, I receive what I need. –Lao Tzu

I’m dancing alone. I try to live a simple, uncomplicated life. I get rid of “stuff” whenever I can. If you visit me, you’ll not find a home cluttered with “stuff.” I carry what I treasure in my heart and memories. I know what I carry in my heart and memory will not rust, wear out, rot, or decay.

Living simply for me is learning to let go. It’s not easy to let go of things Babe and I carried with us for years. Many of these “things” carry special memories. Yet, when Babe died, letting go hurt like hell. I didn’t want to do it. I knew I had to do it if I were to open my heart to healing. Letting go is saying goodbye, waving farewell and Godspeed to a friend as a friend leaves on a journey I can’t follow, at least not yet. I cannot stay standing still watching the horizon waiting for my friend to return. Life asks me to turn around and return to living life. I find it is letting my friend go, trusting God to take care of my friend and to guide me on my path forward.

Letting go of the big things makes letting go of the little things easier. As Lao Tzu says in the quote above, “When I let go of what I have, I receive what I need.” I’ve found this to be true in my life.

Today Is My Clay

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Creative Possibilities

It’s all I have to bring today by Emily Dickinson

It’s all I have to bring today —
This, and my heart beside —
This, and my heart, and all the fields —
And all the meadows wide —
Be sure you count — should I forget
Some one the sum could tell —
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.

Yesterday’s gone, tomorrow waits over the horizon. Today is clay given to me to create something wonderful, something memorable, something beautiful. My creation doesn’t have to change the world or win a Noble prize. It doesn’t have to be newsworthy, and no researcher ever find reason to write about it. My creation will reside in my heart and in the hearts of all who pass my way. It may be as simple as filling my bird feeder, picking litter off the street, or holding the door for someone to pass through. It may be in the smile I share with a stranger, a listening ear to a friend who needs to talk, or a heartfelt prayer to our loving God for healing someone’s pain.

Today is full of infinite possibilities for the creative heart. My investment in my creative activities is priceless, it is the gift of myself, fully to this day and each creative moment.

Here’s to all who seize the creative possibilities of today.

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