Q & D

Quick & Dirty . . . that's one of my mantras.  That's a part of many of my recipe titles, too.  Don't get me wrong.  I love attention to detail.  I love good cooking -- good baking.  But, let's face it.  These days, time is short.

I will NEVER forget the overwhelming affirmation of my niece gobbling-up my Quick & Dirty Greek Meatballs.  She's really very cool and doesn't dole-out compliments like candy.  This was MEANINGFUL.  And she's not the only one who has expressed undying love for them! but her response has been one of the most gratifying.  I don't think my Q&DGM's lack any intrinsic wonderfulness in that I don't hand roll them all or delicately brown them in my skillet!  In fact, if I had to do that, they'd never come to fruition.  The quick & dirtiness of them makes them possible!  The oohs and aahs and frantic demands for the recipe are all it takes to insure that they are made again and again and again.  :-)  I'm smiling like the Chesire Cat.  A very self-satisfying, smug, self-indulgent smile.  I don't do that often, so it is especially fun.  Quick & Dirty.  That sounds awful, doesn't it?  I don't remember where I first heard the phrase or why I actually continue to use it!  It's not very nice!  But I like it.  It's sort of rebellious.  That's very un-Leslie, which is also very fun.

I have, traditionally, been very type A.  I'm a Virgo.  Hmmm.  For those of you who don't understand -- or care to understand what that means -- here's a little joke.  (David was a Pisces . . .)  How many Pisces does it take to change a lightbulb?  The Pisces replies, "What lightbulb?"  uh-huh.  <sigh>  Imagine living with a Pisces when you're a Virgo.  How many Virgos does it take to change a lightbulb?  Exactly ONE.  Get it?  We're rather no-nonsense, broadly-able, do-ers.  Pisces drive us nuts.  Uh huh.  Pisces also really strongly rely on their Virgo counterparts to fill-in ALL of the blanks.  (That's where the bill-paying, the tax-preparing, the lawn-mowing and ALL of the housework comes into play.)

Here's some difficult honesty:  David was not neat.  He was pretty messy.  Pisces and Virgo clashed and the Pisces usually won-out, but I have learned something from all of that.  I have had to adjust and re-adjust and come to terms with some truths.  I can't do it all.  I don't want to do it all.  Any housework is good housework.  Weeds are God's good creation and have beauty.  Uh huh.  So my shower is growing all sorts of stuff that some laboratory might find useful . . . but how does that help me?  I've finally come to terms with it!  I know what it takes to have an organized and clean home, but I'm way more interested in spending that time with my kids -- with my friends.  And, to be brutally honest, I'd rather watch a few episodes of Grey's Anatomy, but that's another blog ...  but here's the end result:  my house is clean enough; it's not perfect.  When I have houseguests, the shower THEY are using isn't growing cultures!  Relationships and emotional health take precedence.  Some day I may return to that blessed state of being a good housekeeper, but not yet.  Q&D Greek Meatballs win-out over the Pine-Sol.  I can lure people to my table with those meatballs -- and they don't give a rat's you-know-what if the floors have Allie tufts floating around!  (well, unless they're not dog-lovers . . . )

So I bet you're asking, "Is this evolving into a 'come as you are' statement?"  Maybe . . . I called and, quick and dirty, they appeared.  They answered the phone.  They texted back.  They emailed.  I have a friend who contrasts herself playfully, calling herself "slow and dirty."  She takes more time and care with her cooking -- and you feel embraced by her meal and her creation -- however! she does not hesitate to drop-by spontaneously for some quick & dirty meatballs!  It's all about the relationship -- the time together -- (to quote David again) about LOVING THE TIME.  Some people just don't.  Some people just can't.  I could have been one of those people!  Thankfully, stuff happened to prevent that. 

After my mother died, my dad took a long time to remarry.  Five years?  (Long for a man, I think . . . )  When he finally did decide to get married, the decision was to live at the new wife's house.  So, four daughters had to dismantle their parents' life together.  We had to do it pretty quickly!  He was moving on -- moving out.  We carefully made choices and decisions about china, crystal, silver, clothing, furniture.  (I'm blessed to have her recipe book!)  And then it was done.  She no longer had a physical place to reside.  We wore her clothes and her jewelry -- we drank from her goblets and sat at her tables -- and she resided within us, but her house was gone.  When my father died, his wife wanted nothing more from us than a quick & dirty removal of our father from her home (except stuff that was worth something when sold).  Chop chop chop -- get those clothes out of the dresser; out of the closet.  Leave no trace.  Wash this place clean of his things -- his spirit -- his being.  It was horrible, yet we felt protective.  If we didn't do it with the care that we would take, she'd toss it out with the garbage.  By the time you lose a second parent, THINGS are all you have left of them aside from your fading memories of their voices and their expressions.  I still have his old chamois shirt -- with the collar turned and so threadbare it has no fuzz.  I don't wear it so that I don't ruin it! but I love it and have it and will always have it.  Anyway, at some point in this painful process, the wife appeared in the doorway holding a beautiful cordovan Coach purse.  Not one of those new-fangled ugly ones -- a beautiful leather one -- thick, supple leather.  He had given it to her.  It had been of insufficient size so she didn't want it.  Did I want it?  YES! and I carried that purse for years.  I still have it.  I now carry the wonderful sheepskin purse that David got me on our last trip to Florence . . . but I will never discard that old purse.  I didn't discard my Dad. 

And I face it again.  Each and every day that I walk past the closed door of David's study.  The last few years of his life, his brain chemistry was doing some strange things.  He became a little OCD -- collecting things.  There must be over a dozen Norelco razors in there.  I think I found another one a few weeks ago!  Probably thousands of mini-discs, lose, unlabelled CD's -- his recordings stacked in boxes floor to ceiling -- shoes (he once bought 3 pairs of terribly ugly chamo crocs just because they felt so good and they were on sale) -- countless pairs of jeans, hundreds of bandanas and hats -- computer speakers, cords of every kind, dress shirts, t-shirts, sweatshirts -- and dozens of his precious journals and song diaries.  My daughter can go in there and tackle a spot.  She can work for hours!  I follow and make some crucial decisions -- throw some things away, put some things in a bag for the Goodwill -- but then I become overcome and have to leave.  It still smells like him.  It's a terrible mess. I stop just short of weeping -- again.  I become deeply sad and angry at once that he left me with such a mess!  But I can't rush the process -- the process of dismantling his amazing life.  I hope we'll make some progress throughout the late fall and winter when girly returns from her studies abroad/before brother gets home for Christmas break.  Truly, I could use the room!  (It's connected to a bathroom -- has a triple closet!) 

But there's really no cause to be Quick & Dirty about it.