Smiles Like a Watermelon; or, Old Dogs Learning New Tricks is a Happy Thing

One of the good things about getting older, dear reader, is the ability to be able to freely admit that one doesn't know something; or perhaps, if one knows somewhat about something, one is able to allow that there is Plenty More to Know about that something than the knowing that one currently enjoys.
This ability is a rather joyful thing to possess; handy in most situations that one can think of, and in some that one may not readily perceive.

For instance, I employed the Crocs website to order a pair of red Crocs for Little Guy's birthday, the item at the top of his handwritten wish-list. Being a person of a certain age, my experience with navigating websites is still rudimentary; I still regard the online ordering process as filling out a form to enact an exchange: this is who I am, this is how you can find me to deliver the goods, and here is how I'm paying you to do so, thank you very much, and now I will click the send button. In most instances, this viewpoint has been quite functional.
I began to check both porches of our house when the stated window of delivery arrived. In my previous experiences, the online ordering process has ended at either of these porches, and I didn't wish to Take Any Chances. He is going to be so excited! I think.
LG's birthday came and went. My ritual of the porches continued each day.
About a week and a half ago, I sent an email to Crocs, asking them to please advise me as to the status of the order; usually when I've ordered online in the past, the order confirmation has included tracking information, and I could not find any in the correspondence from them in my inbox. He is going to be so excited! I think.
My porch ritual continued. No delivery; no reply in my inbox.
Friday morning, I attempt to phone the customer service toll-free number listed on the Crocs website. I reach a recorded message that says the system is down, and if I know my party's extension, I may dial it at this time. Thinking I've misdialed, I dial again, and receive the same message, though I'm now listening to it in its entirety. It tells me to dial '0' for assistance, as I hoped it would: and then it continues to ring for the five minutes I remain on the line before hanging up.
Now feeling thwarted, for I had so hoped to speak with A Real Person, I begin to fill out the form provided on the customer service section of the website; the form is given as an alternative to phoning and speaking to a customer service representative: yet, I feel strangely irritated by the form. The form was my last option, and I feel as if I've been forced to use it.
Pull over, FedEx truck, and give me my Crocs, LG jokes, everytime we pass a FedEx truck.

So, from my limited experience with How Things Work When You Order From Crocs Online, I wrote my inquiry into this form, and I am sad to say, I was somewhat more terse than in my first written and unrequited inquiry: being in a job where I don't sit down all day, I felt that I could be a lifetime customer, but I would go elsewhere if I did not receive satisfaction, the choice was theirs---more or less.
Pull over, FedEx truck, and give me my Crocs, LG jokes, everytime we pass a FedEx truck.



A few hours later, I receive a short reply from a polite representative. The order was shipped and delivered, and indeed, arrived on July 13 (note, dear reader, 3 full days before the birthday); but if I indeed had not received the shipment, she would arrange to have a replacement delivered. I should, she notes, have been able to find this information on my account page on the Crocs website.
Oh. So that's how they do things, I think, glad to add some new knowledge to my previous experience.
I share with Snowy, LG, and Big Guy what the representative has told me.
Intuitively, like the most quiet flash, LG, BG, and I go to the front porch, the porch whose door we never, ever use. We open the screen door; inside the screen door, outside the front door, in that little space between, sits the box: snug, waiting.
LG and BG tear it open, laughing.
LG puts on the red Crocs and jumps up and down. He's beaming.
So am I.
Dear reader, I think so much about learning, and about experience. I'm glad to have this experience, as mortified as I felt, for many reasons.
I love to learn new things; so I'm glad to have my experience and knowledge about online ordering become more nuanced.
I'm glad to also have the lesson reinforced to me about assumptions: we assume so much knowledge as a given. I assumed that the FedEx driver would place the box openly on either porch, as the mailman and countless UPS drivers have done in the past. To the Crocs representative, so facile in the Crocs system, it was incredibly apparent how to navigate that system to find the particular knowing I wanted. To me, my experience of How Things Have Been didn't match with How Things Are For Crocs: and as a result, I felt frustrated, powerless. It caused me to feel anxious because I was trying to use what I knew had worked before (emails, tracking links, and telephone inquiries) to get me what I wanted (LG's happiness: beaming and leaping in bright red shoes).

We are told in our classroom management classes that students want most to feel as if they can affect others in a positive way (LG's happy leaping) as well as to feel that they have a sense of power and control over the environment (thus the desire to speak to a real person to reason out the situation as opposed to filling out a form and waiting) and to belong (I've been able to navigate the environment successfully, and make a positive outcome, so therefore, I'm in my element here---I belong).
In my Birthday Crocs lesson, I didn't feel power, belonging, or able to affect something positive, until I was able to have my experience more nuanced. Someone had to Spell It Out (delivered on the 13th, see it on your account page), and I had to be able to be Sufficiently Motivated ( Pull over, FedEx truck, and give me my Crocs, LG jokes, everytime we pass a FedEx truck) to step a little outside of my experience (box in plain sight on the porch), to Meet It Halfway (halfway between inside and outside, to be exact!).

How much do we assume as a given for our students with autism? For our students in any classroom? Or as a given for anyone that we meet?
My experience is too much, too often.

What a wonderful gift, this lesson: I'm much better equipped to Meet Halfway---and then the real good stuff of the trip, that part where we all learn good, new stuff together---in fact, because we are together---can begin.

I'll finish posting with a poem by the new United States Poet Laureate, Charles Simic: in honor of different ways of perception; in honor of a belated bit of LG's birthday celebration.
As I have another post to make up for my weekend silence, more about poetry later today, hopefully, dear reader, wherein I will again confess to how much I don't know, and why I revel in my foolishness.

Watermelons

Green Buddhas
On the fruit stand.
We eat the smile
And spit out the teeth.

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/watermelons/


Former location of the "Green Buddha," in Wat Phrakaco, Laos
http://galen-frysinger.com/viet_nam/laos16.jpg

Southern-Fried Chaat; or What Do You Get When You Cross a Watermelon with a Papad?

It seems here of late that certain themes present themselves, and stay awhile, and then leave as quietly as they came; much as when one swirls and stirs the water in the pot, and that which is cooking within swirls up to the surface, and swirls, just so, back below.
First, it was the puppets. Then, it was Frida, inexorably linked in this month of birthdays with watermelon: watermelon, which evokes, by its very nature, for it is so sweetly-large and juicy- sweet, images of sharing. And come to think of it, that sharing in and of itself has been another theme that has laced these days here: recent times at table with loved ones; more distant past times with friends.

This particular post brings to mind two specific memories of sharing a table with two friends. The first? When I first met AFKAPW in person. We attended the same retreat, and one night the entire group went to an Indian restaurant. I had no experience with this cuisine, and faced with the prospect of splitting and sharing dishes that I wasn't certain that I would like, she graciously guided me through the menu, explaining and teaching as only she can do. We had a tremendously great meal because of her savvy and good company. Not only is she directly responsible for my serious obsession with gulab jamun (and Indian sweets in general), but by her introduction, she gave me a culinary "home base," so to speak, when my dietary requirements turned to vegetarianism. (Artist, should you ever show up on my doorstep, I would cook you a feast!)
The second was going out to dinner with a friend and colleague who had never before had Indian food. We ate a lot of good things that night, and had a great time talking, talking, talking, but the food we loved the best at the table that night was the papri chaat, one of the inspirations for the particular recipe that follows.
I look to so many Desi food bloggers to help me learn more about their cuisine. I am most grateful their generousity in allowing strangers into their kitchens and to their tables, so to speak, and so wonderfully say to a stranger like me, "This is the picture; this is how you do it; this is how you enjoy it."

It's a beautiful thing.

So when I saw the announcement for the A-Fruit-A-Month for July over at Jugalbandi, I was excited: watermelon! And then I was a little deflated, for I felt that as a newcomer to the blog world, and one who is not even a food blogger, I felt that maybe I wouldn't have much to offer to these people I admire so much. But then I remembered my grandmother, my Almeda-of-the pie-crust, who never went anywhere without a pie, a trifle, a cake or a dozen-or-so cookies in hand, to give to the one who was at the place where she was going, to say, thank you, I'm glad to be here. (Side note, dear reader: I've wanted to post my grandmother's recipe for pie dough, with her words and organization. It took me this time to find the paper, hiding beneath Yamuna Devi's beautiful Art of Indian Vegetarian Cooking, on my kitchen shelf. If you've followed the link in her name, you'll find the amended post, in which her kitchen influence first appeared here in this blog.) It is in that spirit that I offer to you a recipe that is an Indian/American hybrid: one that results from living so long in the American South, where watermelon, bacon, peanuts, cola, and black-eyed peas are often considered essential food groups in their own right, and from learning to cook from a unique culinary home by the light of the computer screen, the warmth of graciousness---past and present, and the feeling of childhood, with Almeda looking over my shoulder. An uncommon, strange hearth, so to speak: but it is my own.

I'm glad to be here.

Southern-Fried Chaat

Dear reader, please accept my apologies as to the format of the recipe: Blogger and I seem to have varying opinions as to how it should be spaced. I opted for vertical lists of ingredients at each stage, Blogger keeps giving me horizontal ones. So I've inserted semi-colons between each ingredient in the lists, hoping for at least some measure clarity. Many thanks in advance for your kind indulgence.

1 cup black-eyed peas, dried ; 1 black cardamon ; 1 red pepper pod ; 1/2 teaspoon turmeric

Sort and wash the black-eyed peas. You may use canned if you wish, but the sorting and washing of the dry peas is very pleasingly tactile and relaxing, so if you have the time, I would encourage it; otherwise, 1 cup of canned peas, rinsed and drained, will happily do instead. Soak the peas overnight. Drain the soaking water, and add the peas to the cookpot. To this, add the cardamom, pepper pod, and turmeric, and about 2 1/2-3 cups of water; it will depend on the freshness of the peas. Bring to a boil; then turn to a simmer, and simmer until peas are tender, but not soft. If there is liquid remaining in the pot, please drain from the peas, and discard the pepper pod and the cardamom. As the people in the region in the South where I lived enjoyed themselves some sassafrass tea, I've evoked that fresh, herbaceous resinous quality with the black cardamom. If you're fortunate enought to have access to fresh sassafrass root to make the tea, I would strongly recommend the cooking of the peas in that tea, rather than the water. Just do remember that in that instance, you will not require the black cardamom; I would use one pod of the green in its staid. To the hot peas, add:

the juice of 1/2 lemon; 1/2 teaspoon of black (or kosher) salt; 1/4-1/2 teaspoon chili powder (or to taste); a drizzle of molasses, about 1/2 teaspoon (maple syrup or jaggery will also be happy here)

Divide the quantity of peas into two equal halves; there will be approximately a generous 2 cups in total. Immediately put one of these halves aside for later use in other dishes. (I always try to work ahead when taking the extra time in working with dry beans. If you do not need or wish to do so, then please divide the above quantities in two.) If you would like the contrast between hot and cool temperatures, please proceed with the making of the rest of the recipe; if not, please chill the peas, and then proceed.

To the generous 1 cup of peas, add: 1/4 cup finely diced (to black-eyed pea size) white onion; 1/4 cup packed, torn mint 1 cup finely diced (to black-eyed pea size) watermelon; 1 green chile, halved and thinly sliced into slivers; 3 anise hyssop flower bracts, the individual tiny flowers removed (discard the stem portion) or leaves from one sprig of tarragon, finely sliced + a drop or two of honey

Blend together gently with your favorite wooden utensil. The chaat is almost complete. For the accompaniment, blend together with a whisk:

1/4 cup thick yogurt; 1 tablespoon + 1 teaspoon cola; 1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar; 1/4 teaspoon chili powder; 2 tablespoons smooth-style natural peanut butter

To serve, top the chaat mixture with: 1/4 cup smoked almonds (Playing the role of bacon in this performance). Pour the yogurt mixture to taste over the chaat and scoop up with crisp shards of green chile papad.

Due to no working digital camera, a paper illustration of my dish. I'm rather pleased that the scan of the original paper rendering resembles a children's book illustration!


Bee and Jai, please accept this almost-too-late entry to:

All That and a Bag of Chips; or, Gotta Love Someone Who Loves Tarzan Matinees

http://www.filmposters.com/templates/LargeImage.asp?ProdID=9315


As I was just writing in reply to Swampwitch, Frida brought so much to the table that we will really never go hungry.

The fact that she absolutely loved Tarzan films and laughed all the way through them only further endears her to me, so as I still have an entire watermelon in the fridge, we will continue celebrating Frida's Centennial today. She deserves it, yes?



As part of the festivities, do follow the link, leading you to one of my favorite books. I have a Favorite Book Shelf, and I knew this one was going to be placed there before I even picked it up.

When you go there, you might understand why:






http://teacher.scholastic.com/authorsandbooks/events/frida/
Have a wonderful time.
And so it continues: Viva la vida, my friends.

Min, Would You Care for a Slice?, and Then Pass It On; or, July is Birthday Month

http://www.elbertprice.com/FridaKahlo/01-PortraitofFridaKahlo.htm

Not only have I been remiss in sharing my lovely surprises with you in a timely manner, I have truly been remiss in celebrating Frida's birthday with you. Had she lived this far, she would have been 100 on July 6th.

So Happy Birthday, dear Frida.

Viva la vida indeed, dear reader.

Thank you for stopping by. Please toss the rinds on the compost heap on your way out; the chipmunks absolutely adore them. As do the butterflies and the bees!

http://www.abcgallery.com/K/kahlo/kahlo72.jpg

Little Guy's birthday was absolutely great. He requested pizza for his birthday meal, and as the pizza joint he loves the most is a few blocks from my parents' house, his entire birthday party became takeout.

My parents furnished a great, green seedless watermelon, one of LG's favorites. Sweet and rosy, just like the Guest of Honor Himself. Sitting at the picnic table, he took it all in and said, I feel like I'm in heaven!, his entire face a grin, one of those smiles that lights up the place.

After we left the party, we continued the celebration by stopping at the store so that he might choose a new fishing rod (bright, candy-apple red). He and Big Guy went fishing together as we sat lakeside and took in the beautiful day.

LG continued his birthday festivities by challenging me to a game of lawn tennis upon our return home. We were just heading into the house after the game for the ritual slice of watermelon when the neighborhood boys came to see if LG wanted to play.

Yes, LG said. It's my birthday today, he said. Well, happy birthday, replied one friend. Let's go over to my house.

LG's birthday ended with my calling to him across the lawns and rising fireflies at dusk.

Our Little Guy is growing up.

Our Big Guy is growing up.

Both are healthy, and happy more often than not. If ever there was a time to stop and smell the roses, this is it. And for this, I am most thankful.

Don't forget to stop for your own roses, dear reader, whatever or whoever they may be.

comic strips courtesy of http://www.mutts.com/