charlobo-a-go-go

I was in Sacramento last week at Starbucks in the dead K Street Mall. I hate having coffee without a little pastry to go with it (which now is officially out the door unless I bake it myself), and I noticed that there was a pumpkin loaf on offer, but there were no more slices left. So I thought I’d ask if there was any…you know…left over.

Dude said, and I shit you not…

We have one more slice left, but I’m keeping it for myself.

Seriously? What the hell? I give you this: he had balls. But at the very least, SHUT UP and eat your damn loaf by yourself.

I’m going to have to make my own loaf from here on out. Recipe will be posted when I’m done testing.

-Char

I have a friend, or maybe not so much a friend, that I’ve found myself wondering about here and there. I say not so much a friend because it’s been so long since we’ve been friend-like to each other.

There’s one thing about being civil to one another, and there’s another thing about being stuck in a space where your friendship isn’t so defined and being left to figure it all out. I don’t know one way or another around it, but I’m here, holding onto a friendship that let go of me a long time ago.

Things were fine, really, and then there was a moving on - change of location and relation that became a huge chasm between us. I stood at the edge of that chasm a long time and stared at the other side equally long because what was once familiar wasn’t. What was shared became left behind. What once was “us” was no more.

I at times feel bitter and ask, to no one in particular: so, where did it all go? I have no idea, and I have no desire to chase it to its conclusion, but I can’t deny that this hurts. It reminds me of a dull ache that won’t go away but kicks in when the rain is on the horizon. I want to, at the very least, let this person know that I never stopped caring.

I suppose at some point, I should have enough in me to put it aside or address it, but I just don’t have it in me anymore. Maybe that’s a good thing, maybe it’s a bad thing. But that’s the problem with being left on the precipice. Jumping would solve a lot of issues, but it would also solve a lot of issues.

btw, this is about someone who i am no longer in touch with, so don’t get all crazy thinking i’m talking about you. no really. stop it.

char

I love bags. Purses. Totes. Suitcases. I don’t know why, but I know ever since I was a child, the accoutrements for containing things has always been intriguing to me. Boxes, folders, satchels.  I study their construction, their materials, and their general aesthetic.

I think bags say a lot about a person. Their station. Their position. Their ability to care for something. Their taste (or lack thereof). But most importantly, if you want to know a lot about the person, crack the bag open and see what’s inside.

See, we can get all deep about this and talk about your bag reflects your inner working, etc., but it’s not that serious. What’s in your bag really reflects what’s important to you.

I change my bag every so often depending on what the occasion calls for, where I’m going, and what I need to carry. Some days I need my laptop, some days I don’t. Somedays call for books, some days don’t. Don’t even get me started about what is in my makeup kit. Geez. But there are things that I transfer from one bag to the next: my rosary from Rome, my Moleskine, my phone, a pen.

My bag today is a reflection of my work and creative life, I suppose. I won’t get into too much detail, but if I were to fall off the face of the earth for a time being, I think I’m good.

I’m going to throw this out to you all…what’s in your bag? And…while we’re at it, check this out: What’s In Your Bag?

I firmly believe that we are all teachers. We all possess unique sets of talents, skills, and abilities that we pass down informally - for instance, to friends when we show them how to fold an origami crane because we’ve been doing it since we were a kid. Among us walk very talented photographers, calligraphers, artists, poets, crafters, chefs, but we would never know it because we’re not part of their informal circle. We walk by them every day - professors, staff, students. This flows naturally to my philosophy of learning - that we can learn inside and outside the classroom, and that we learn best when we are engaged with the material and the teacher, working in small groups, when we are able to make meaning of what we’re doing. Somehow what we’re learning has to vibe us from the inside and is important to us.

****

I was asked the questions about my philosophy on teaching and learning from a reporter from our campus newspaper, and I this was the hardest, then easiest paragraph to write. It just makes sense to me.

Strangely enough, I was a little leery of who was going to see this philosophy. But if you know me, then you know this to be exactly what I’m all about and why I’m in higher education. To help students make meaning of their education, and to help the students see that they are cultural and academic producers just as much as their teachers are.

Students are powerful too. If only they can embrace that sense of power when they are more often content to be passive receivers of their education. The revolution continues.

Charlene

When I was in college, that rebellious time of my life that I look back on with an evil grin, I stole discovered a brick of lucite. I pulled up Word on my computer (this was before the days of Pages), and typed up the following phrase: Fuck that weak shit.

That was, oh goodness, 17 years ago. Pause. I feel old. Whatever. Anyways, that was 17 years ago. Since then, it’s graced my desk during my masters. My doctorate. And even though I’ve moved a few times since those days, I still have it. The thought has crossed my mind to toss the damn thing, but I can’t seem to do that.

So today, as I was perusing graduate programs in psychology (PhD level. But we’ll discuss that another time…), I remembered this sign. It motivated me to do better when things were difficult. It kept me going when I was ready to believe that people thought I was not good enough. It reminded me that I would never be that weak shit.

The sign sits, where it has for the last 5 years or so, on my dresser. I look forward to the day when I can put it on my desk again to plot my world domination.

Charbo

This is my go to recipe for Pound Cake. If you ever want to make people really really happy, this is the recipe for you. And your house will smell delicious for hours.

Char

From The New Moosewood Cookbook, Mollie Katzen

Prep: 15 mins

Baking time: 50-60  mins

Yield: 12 to 16 servings.

Butter and flour for the pans

1 lb. (4 sticks) butter, softened

3 cups sugar

6 eggs

4 cups flour

1 Tbs. baking powder

1/2 tsp. salt

1 cup milk

2 tsp. vanilla extract

1. preheat oven to 350F. Butter and flour the bottom and sides of a 10-inch tube or bundt pan.

2. in a large bowl, cream together butter and sugar with an electric mixer at high speed until light and fluffy.

3. add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each. Set aside.

4. Sift together the dry ingredients in a separate bowl.  Mix together the milk and vanilla. Add dry and wet alternately to butter mixture, beginning and ending with dry. Mix by hand - just enough to blend thoroughly without excess beating.

5. Spread the butter into the prepared pan. Bake 50-60 minutes or until a sharp knife inserted all the way down comes out clean. Allow to cool for 10 minutes in the pan, then turn out onto a plate. Cool completely before slicing.

What’s the most delicious meal you’ve ever had?

It’s hard to think of the most delicious meal I’ve ever had because you don’t just eat something that’s grand. Usually if I’m out eating, it’s because there’s an occasion. Or there’s a gathering. Or there’s company. Those are often times the seasoning that makes a meal really worth while and interesting. That being said, here are some of my fave meals EVAR:

1. Any meal I’ve ever eaten at Chez Papa. Neighborhood french resto, straight forward french food. Great wait staff, and I’m always there with Husbandido. LOVE that place. Open faced mushroom ravioli, a pinot grigio from france, halibut with mashed potatoes, and amazing lavender creme brulee.

and

2. Any meal I’ve ever had on a retreat with my students. Granted, they’re not uber fancy, but there’s something about being away from civilization, having dinner with some really good people and cooking for each other that’s particularly amazing and wonderful. V. delicious. Word.

There are others, but I’ll leave those for us to have together.

Ask me anything

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