The STUFF Sisters

Having Been Here Before

As he told his new oncologist, who smiled, “I already have an incurable lymphoma, what’s one more?” Humor. It’s what Simmonses do. In times of happy and times of sad. We laugh.

I sat there idling in the fast food line, knowing I had felt this way before. I jetted over the guilt of ordering – and, in time, eating – this comfort food with my sister from the burger joint that has been here since our childhoods. Child’s play on the list of emotions I was trying to wrestle.

Strangely, I was feeling that things were settled for just a moment. I dug deeply, and, when I landed on where I had experienced this feeling before, I smiled. Continue reading “Having Been Here Before”

Easing Back

When the new parameters for my behavior with shopping carts was agreed to by both parties, I instituted them on the very next visit, which was last Friday.

I am easing back into wanting to go the grocery store. As in, on one of my days off, when there isn’t a time crunch or a huge list to be purchased, I will enter the store. Alone or with my husband, I am easing back into what was a huge part of my life for so many years.

I have written before about myself and grocery stores. My last two trips to the store have been with my husband and almost a month apart. Both very different experiences. One got me a “talking to,” and the other, after following preset parameters from the “talking to,” got me a good dose of the stink eye.

Continue reading “Easing Back”

10 Questions for Amy Meya

We are excited to launch a series of blogs about the creative people we represent. These posts will feature 10 questions – chosen by our employee team at the store. The 10 answers to those questions have been written by the artists, creators and inventors who make the work we proudly sell. We have included a photo of the featured person (supplied by them) and a few images of their work currently available at our store. Pursue good stuff.

We are excited to launch a series of blogs about the creative people we represent.

The 10 Questions for Artists, Creators and Inventors Series will feature ten questions – chosen by our employee team. The ten answers have been written by the artists, creators and/or inventors who make the work we proudly sell. We have included a photo of the featured person, supplied by them, and a few images of their work currently available at our store.

10 Questions for Amy Meya: Ceramic Artist

1. As a child, what did you wish to become when you grew up?

From the time we first worked with clay in elementary school I told my mom: “if I could just be in a room with lots of windows and work with clay all day, my life would be fulfilled”, she said “yeah, well, that is a nice dream”. Dreams can come true!

2. Describe a real-life situation that inspired you?

When my first son was only a few months old NCECA, the ceramics arts conference was here in KC, one of my best friends, Angela, and I took him to all the galleries to see the work. The following year Angela and I decided to do all the gallery shows again, this time the conference was in San Diego, my sister was living there, so we had a free place to crash. We took my then one year old with us and went to all the gallery shows, he must have picked up on all our ooooohhhing and aaahhhhing, when we walked into the 6th or so gallery he pointed to a large red platter hanging on the wall and said “oh, wow!” These were his first two words strung together. That moment inspires me.

3. What’s your favorite book or movie of all time and why did it speak to you so much?

One of my favorite movies of all time is “Mr. Mom”, my sisters and I would watch this over and over, we could quote it the entire way through. I love this movie for so many reasons, but now, (I re-watched it when it came out on Netflix) I love it because it is a movie that demonstrates that staying home with kids is also a full time job and families need to figure out a work/home balance.

4. What’s the most beautiful place you’ve ever been?

The “Nature Island” Dominica in the West Indies. Rainbows everyday, waterfalls, black sand beaches, steep mountains and a thick lush rain forest. Heaven on earth!

5. What’s your favorite smell in the whole world?

Garlic cooking.

6. If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would it be?

I can’t pick just one, I have a deep seated wanderlust. Lately I have been wanting to go to New Zealand and Thailand, and Indonesia, I guess generally Southeast Asia. Also, South America, I would love to go to Peru and Argentina.

7. Which fictional character do you wish you could meet?

Here I go again dating myself, but Indiana Jones.

8. What is the best piece of advice you’ve received?

Work on your goals everyday, even if it is only a little bit some days, just do something to move yourself toward your goals because it all adds up in the end.

9. Cake or pie?

Definitely pie, sweet potato pie that isn’t sweet, a more savory pie spiced with lots of rich favors.

10. What is your dream project?

My dream, and current goal, is to figure out a way to work in the Caribbean for four months out of the year, the extremely cold four months to be exact.

– Amy Meya, September 2016

We hope you enjoy this new series. Stay tuned for more. Pursue good stuff…

Time To ‘Fess Up

Yesterday, like most days since our son left for college, I did not want to go to the grocery store. We needed very little, and truly I believed they were all things we could do without for the rest of our lives. The list was maybe seven items long. So I came to my senses and began negotiations with my husband.

“Do we really, really need mushrooms?” I demanded.

“Yes, if you want me to make this egg thing you love with the kale,” Mr. Wonderful answered.

“Can the rest wait?”

“Sure. For a few days,” he wisely stated. “Just drive me by the store, and I’ll run in while you wait.”

Done. I didn’t even wince or make a pucker face.

The routine when we get to the grocery store near our home – not the one near my business, which has another routine of its own – is that I drop him at the door and then circle the car to the west of the lot and watch for him to come out. Then, lazily, because I am off going to the grocery store right now, I pull up and pick him up and speed off. I am ‘fessing up right now to the fact that this has happened a great deal and not just yesterday. I am owning it.

But yesterday, when I pulled the car to the west of the lot and got out of the car, I bathed myself in the beauty of the two gorgeous, huge crab apple trees that grow along the embankment. I forget about them every year until I see them. The smell was of my favorite childhood home and the magnificent old crab apple tree that grew there.

Every spring that tree exploded with blooms that were massive. My sisters and I danced underneath it, shook its branches to be showered in petals, and pretended the petals were pink snow on the day every year when it gave up its finery for leaves. I remember my sister Casey being a “bride” underneath it, and the petals that cascaded down her dress were being “thrown” by the flower girl – not the older sister shaking the thickest branch.

If I had gone into the store – grumbling all the way while grasping my cotton grocery bags – I believe I would have missed this grandeur. Pure justification, I believe, for never entering a grocery store again.

What if I miss something? Something very important?

Bacon

I might have know then, when I inquired about the thick chunk of meat in butcher’s paper, that by the end of the week I would be struck with heartache when I opened the refrigerator to reach for the Greek yogurt.

Today I missed him for the first time. As in: My heart silently whispered to me, “I miss him.”

And it is all because of six slices of bacon. The fleeting pain I felt and the blink of quick tears were caused from the extra slices of salt-cured meat my husband bought for a recipe earlier this week that called for two. I might have know then, when I inquired about the thick chunk of meat in butcher’s paper, that by the end of the week I would be struck with heartache when I opened the refrigerator to reach for the Greek yogurt.

My son eats breakfast. When he was a baby, his happiness in the high chair with the sun coming in the kitchen windows was glorious to behold. He would make yummy sounds at just about anything I put on the plate, which within minutes was moved to the tray, where he enjoyed his food the most. Bananas chunk were fine, mandarin orange slices even better. This would keep him entertained while I put eggs in the pan. Cheese was always a small part of the mix, and, as he grew I slipped in vegetables – spinach (a favorite), tomatoes (not), roasted sweet potato leftovers (loved when available).

The baby grew, the highchair moved on to others’ homes. A plate at the worn pine table was now full-time home to “special breakfasts”. Those were his words for breakfasts where I had time, usually on the weekends, to make bacon. Bacon takes time, and, if I try to rush it at all, I burn it. Bad. Like smoke fills the house. He likes his bacon very crispy, but not black, so I have been handed a lifetime challenge.

His hands-down favorite meal that I make on slow mornings – and with a teenager, that could be early afternoon – is crisp bacon, very cheesy scrambled eggs, cranberry juice, and thin pancakes my grandmother taught me to make.

And the best part of this meal is that I always eat it with him. The sun shines in the windows, but I make the yummy noises.

And he smiles every time.

p.s.These photos were taken in September when we visited him for Parent’s Weekend. I look forward to his return for Thanksgiving. I need to let my employer know I might be late one morning of our busiest weekend of the year because I will be burning bacon from lack of practice.

Reaching

This past weekend I sat in the sun. I was yearning for the effects of naturally obtained vitamin D. The same crazy yearning and reaching is happening inside the house as well.

This past weekend I sat in the sun. I was yearning for the effects of naturally obtained vitamin D. We have yet to place all the furniture on the deck or the porch, but the wrought iron straight-backed chair and an end table used as a foot stool provided just the comfort I was looking for in a lounger.

The same crazy yearning and reaching is happening inside the house as well. I have posted before about the geraniums I now place in the kitchen for the winter. Right now they are blooming like crazy, and their faces are smashed against the window glass to capture the magic of daylight. My son and I noticed that every branch on both plants is leaning strongly to the south.

But what appeared today was over the top.

Our household orders produce from an organic cooperative. It arrives every week and is exactly what we requested a few days earlier via the computer. Some weeks we order well and eat every morsel, and some weeks – like last week – we have one item that just sits in the produce drawer. Languishing. Lonely. Cold.

Broccoli rabe was the latest victim. By the time we reached for it on Sunday to cook it, it was past its prime. A little yellow. A tiny bit slimy. So we pitched it into the bin of uncooked and organic food scraps that houses our cast-offs until I can get them to my mother’s chickens. The feathered ladies pick over it after we scatter it in their yard and days later provide us with the best eggs ever.

Today I came downstairs and the broccoli was reaching for the sunshine and BLOOMING! I was stunned and immediately told the dog all about it. These blooms fought their way through a pound of carrot shavings and the skins of three beets. They had to make a 90-degree turn to reach their goals. They worked hard. It stuck with me all day because they really were acting just like every other living thing in our home.

They wanted back outside, they wanted everything the sun had to give, and they wanted to bloom and stretch.

. p.s. You can read my geranium blogs here and here. Both have a little bit to do with plants….

In Constant Search of Authenticity & A Meal I Will Never Forget

I like my world with a bit of grit. If I spend more than a couple hours in a location that is sterile, homogenized or commercialized I start to get depressed. I begin to pace like a caged animal.

I like my world with a bit of grit. If I spend more than a couple hours in a location that is sterile, homogenized or commercialized I start to get depressed. I begin to pace like a caged animal. I get short and snappy with others. I start to worry that the world is in serious trouble. And, I have to stifle my urge to scream.

I don’t understand the appeal of chain stores, themed restaurants or branded theme parks. I went on a cruise once and seriously considered jumping ship more than once. I just wanted to feel the water. Looking at it from five stories up was pure torture. I was desperate to feel the cold water. To taste the salt. To be pulled by the waves.

I have a burning desire to travel before the cultures of the world are “walmarted” and “targeted” to death.

What will the world look like if all the small authentic businesses and communities disappear? You can’t rebuild, recreate or paint on a patina that will ever replace an original. It falls flat.

When I find authentic locales. I get excited. I don’t want to own something or eat something that is one of the millions manufactured. I want to own a one-in-a-million piece of art or eat a meal that can’t be found anywhere else.

I crave authenticity.

Which is why I will never forget the first time I ate at Le Maire’s in Sedalia, Missouri.

It wasn’t the original location, but it was original in every other way.

The fried clams were made as a starter just for us.

The place was spotless. We did share the place with 5 other tables. But, I didn’t take photos of the people because I “outed” myself as a crazy out-of-towner with my photo taking and it seemed rude.

The catfish dinner is the menu “must have”. My daughter insisted on ordering the adult sized platter and put away all six pieces of fish. Please note there is no oily residue on the plate.

The painted walls and murals created a festive Cajun mood.

There is a little grotto at the entrance honoring the founders, Joe and Frenchie Le Maire.

My daughter recommends the Gumball Coaster near the checkout counter for entertainment while you wait for your fresh fried catfish.

My Mother suggested the stop. She had known about it for many years. I threatened to never speak to her again for keeping it a secret this long, but my anger slipped away during the fried clam starter. The happiness I felt at discovering this truly authentic eatery made me giddy.

Addiction and Plastic

There are many things I have slowly given up over time. Diet Coke. Peanut M&Ms. High fructose corn syrup. Some have been easy to let go of, and others, well, others can haunt me and rear their ugly little addicting heads. It is still hard not to want an icy Diet Coke at the movie theater, and I will be honest: I haven’t completely kicked the M&Ms. A bowl of the colorful happiness at a party will find my hand. However, I no longer purchase these items for personal consumption.

I digress. This story was to be about my current fascination with Iced Black Tea from Starbucks and my reuse of their trenta-sized cup. I believe reuse is the best of “The Three R’s” – reduce, reuse and recycle. If you are already reducing your usage, then reusing what you do have before recycling it is the pinnacle, for me anyway.

My husband and I have been recycling in our home for over 20 years. When we bought our first “home”, our loft downtown, one of the first things we designed into the kitchen was our recycling center. I have written previous blogs about our recycling commitment at home, my business has a full page on our website dedicated to our Green Policies, and – again last week – my husband and I drove our recycling through seven states to be able to get it into the correct bin. I like to think our fervor makes us committed to the cause, not crazy. Fine line, I suppose.

My new love – addiction, if you must – of iced black tea is probably the caffeine. I have never been a coffee drinker, but I did consume gallons of Diet Coke for years and years. It propelled me through my career in politics and pushed me right into entrepreneurship with my sister.

A year ago, I felt like I needed a little something to jump start my day again, with Diet Coke now 10 years behind me. At first I thought it was mental – this is my response to most things bordering on addiction – and that I needed to ignore it and move along. And I did just that for years. I have always had a lifelong love of iced water – and continue to drink major amounts of it daily – but it just seemed like my taste buds and my energy system wanted more.

But how do I balance my desire to save Mother Earth by consuming less while ordering iced teas in plastic cups? Even the little #6 in the cutie triangle telling me the cup was recyclable didn’t make my use of it justified. I need to use less plastic everyday. Every. Single. Day.

Then I found out I could re-use my cup at Starbucks – and they will give you money off for doing so! – and that changed everything. I am currently reusing a cup I got four weeks ago. My promise to Starbucks and my local barista is that I will not let the cup get junky looking or stained. I rinse it constantly and wash it occasionally, and I am still reusing the original lid and straw. (I even put my own iced tea from home in it when time is of the essence.)

I have managed to find a way to manage my current addiction with my desire to be one of the people to slowly change the world.

It took me a while. But I got there.

p.s. When ordering iced black tea in the South – let’s say on vacation driving through Florida, Georgia and Tennessee – be prepared to answer the question, “Do you want it sweetened?” more than once. They really, really love their sweet tea and looked at me like the Yankee I am when my answer was repeatedly, “No thank you.”

p.s.s. You can only reuse your cup if you go to a counter at Starbucks. My advice: don’t attempt this move when they are super-swamped. I am not a “rush hour” tea drinker, so this has worked out for me really, really well.

Just Google It

This vacation found my husband and me on a two-day car trip to get to our destination and a subsequent two days to get back. My husband’s phone makes it so easy to “google” the best. This time, the search results were delicious.

This vacation found my husband and me on a two-day car trip to get to our destination and a subsequent two days to get back. I like car trips. I learned a long time ago that trips are about the journey AND the destination.

Inside Champy's in Chattanooga, TN. — Inside Champy’s in Chattanooga, TN.

I have never been good about pre-planning meals on the road. Since becoming a parent, the best I have ever done is pack picnics to either eat in the car at 80 miles per hour or consume at state rest stops, which are still my preferred places to relieve myself and stretch my legs en route. (Gas stations gross me out, and fast food joints are no longer places we frequent.)

Shuford's in Chattanooga, TN. — Shuford’s in Chattanooga, TN.

This trip, we planned where we would be sleeping in advance, but food didn’t make it onto the itinerary. Being terribly busy before we left is my only excuse. However, my husband’s Internet access through his phone makes it so easy to “google” phrases like the following:

“best fried chicken chattanooga” and “best BBQ chattanooga”

The vine can't read! — The vine can’t read!

I then continue to fly down the interstates and he reads the results. Our only other requirement is that the joints we pick are locally owned, but that can be discerned when you click on their websites, which we highly recommend. This time, the search results were delicious. On the way down to Florida, we at the “best fried chicken” in Chattanooga at Champy’s and, two weeks later, on our 27th wedding anniversary, we ate the “best BBQ” in Chattanooga at Shuford’s on our way home.

The self-serve tea at Shuford's. Yep. I like mine "un". Sweetened, that is. — The self-serve tea at Shuford’s. Yep. I like mine “un”. Sweetened, that is.

I am sharing a few pictures here, but the shots of our actual BBQ does not do the food justice. I am a die-hard BBQ fan – raised religiously by devout BBQ parents – and swear by Kansas City style BBQ and our sauces. However, the pork sandwich I had at Shuford’s was the best pork I have ever eaten. Smoked to perfection – no nasty liquid smoke – and lightly sauced. It was served “southern” style with the cole slaw on the softest bun imaginable. That is a combo I like, and the ratio was perfect. (My husband is such a pig he had to follow up his pulled pork sandwich with a beef brisket number, and he sang its praises as well. Brisket is hard to do well.)

My sandwich at Shuford's — My sandwich at Shuford’s

My husband's. — My husband’s sandwich #1.

I did not take food shots of our fried chicken at Champy’s. I’m not a huge fan of taking pictures of my food, and was so blown away by the authenticity of our surroundings and the local flavor of the joint that I didn’t stop to point the camera at our plates. However, the really fun aspect of Champy’s is that they serve 40-ounce ice cold beers in bottles and, if you are a regular, you pull down your jumbo coozie cover from the clotheslines full of them throughout the restaurant. Most of them had been customized for the customer – by the customer! – and yours is waiting there when you return. Charming. (I was delighted by my petite 12 oz. Miller Lite sans coozie.)

My mother raised us to “get off the interstate” whenever we can because that’s where the magic lies. We were hell-bent for the beach, so the interstate was our speedy route this time. My advice? Choose great locally-owned food joints off the interstate and let your data package be your guide.

p.s. Click on the links to learn more about these great American restaurants. They both had friendly staff, and neither place will let you down. I promise.

Pretty much my favorite sign at Shuford's. — Pretty much my favorite sign at Shuford’s.

Healthy Summer Cold Treats

I don’t know about you, but getting enough liquid in my child during the hot, hot, hot summer days can be a challenge. I have tried many tricks, but

I don’t know about you, but getting enough liquid in my child during the hot, hot, hot summer days can be a challenge. I have tried many tricks, but this one works the best. I make homemade jumbo popsicles with a variety of juices and other drinks.

At home we have a nifty popsicle maker thingy, but we are on vacation this week and I had to improvise.

What I discovered, is she likes the jumbo ones more than the little ones I make at home. I like it because she gets more hydration each time and my favorite part is that I used handy kitchen items everyone has on hand (no fancy gizzmos or special clean-up and storage).

Pursue good stuff this summer…

These photos were taken by me – Casey Simmons – “on location” on Anna Maria Island, Florida.