Fast cars & bad boys

Santa Cruz California, 1987--my boyfriend Aaron called me from work and asked if I had his car. I assured him I didn't (I had my own), and he assured me that his was not parked outside the restaurant where he left it (India Joze, for those who'll appreciate the reference). Immediately after I hung up the phone, this is what happened:

I had the idea I could find the car, so I grabbed my keys, climbed into my '64 Dodge Dart and started it up. And as I pulled onto the street, just like that, Aaron's Toyota hatchback zipped right past me. With no time to process this most unusual occurrence, I put the pedal to the metal and took off after the little white car. Now here's where I'd like to unleash the part of the story where a wild chase ensued, but in reality it was just me, traveling at average speed, trying to catch a glimpse of the driver who was seemingly unaware I was in hot pursuit.

With no obvious destination, the hijacked car darted in and around side streets, and as I carefully watched the needle on my gas gage approach empty, I continued to follow closely behind. Then suddenly, the mystery driver of my boyfriend's wheels took off, and when it got too fast for me to safely keep up, I pulled over, called 911 and reported the incident. I don't remember what happened next, maybe I went home, but more likely I went straight to the restaurant to tell Aaron my amazing tale.

Two days later, the stolen car was pulled over by police and the thief, a 15-year-old runaway boy, was apprehended. The interior was a mess, the engine shot, and in the back seat was a thick wool blanket, a pack of condoms, and a paperback copy of The Outsiders.

No charges were filed.

Blog clog

I love cherries and peppermint candy, but not at the same time. At least for now, that's the best I can do.

Goodnight.

k

Atypical ten

Annie: "What movie should I watch tonight? Gypsy, The Great Race, The Beatles' Help, or Teenagers From Outer Space?"

Better than speed

"Watching Speed Racer in IMAX was like mixing magic mushrooms with crystal meth, then washing them down with a jumbo box of Crayola crayons." ~David Kosh

Sorry for the silence

I've never been good at doing more than one thing at a time.

Playtime 101

Annie comes into the bathroom and sits down while I wash up before bed.

"Here, let me give you a facial," I say, and I prepare a hot washcloth.

"OK.," says Annie. "Let's pretend we're at a salon and I'm your regular client. I always request you, and your name is Lucy."

"Alright," I say as I apply facial cleanser to her cheeks.

"It's so nice to see you again Ms. Kosh, tell me, how's the family?"

Annie looks at me and patiently whispers a gentle reminder: "I'm a widow."

woof

Sitting at the sidebar

I can't tell you why I love The Eagles, but I can tell you, I'm not ashamed to admit it.

Here's one of my favorites.

meow

Peep

Tonight

My friends Yale Strom & Elizabeth Schwartz will perform tonight with Pakistani, Salman Ahmad and his band Junoon in a concert at Queens College called Common Chords. Ahmad with his Sufi Qawwali music, and Strom with his klezmer will play separately and together, demonstrating the common musical origins of Muslim and klezmer music.

For more info, contact Sophia McGee at 718 997-5000.

In real time

Meditative morning, a voice whispers in my head, Watch your flame.

Sitting at the sidebar

A couple of years ago, I saw trombonist Steve Turre play with McCoy Tyner at The Blue Note. Although I'm not a huge fan of the trombone, when this trombonist blows the conch shell, it blows me away.

Exploration, from the album Sanctified Shells.

The puppy whisperer

In real time

Annie reads, Honey sleeps, my friend Elizabeth visits from California.

Gift

Today, some moms opened boxes and found diamond earrings inside, and some received strands of pretty pearls or the promise of a spa day. But it's a stack of CDs for this mother, from two people who know me well.

Family values

My grandparents on my mother's side never celebrated holidays, they said it was part of the capitalist plan to steal your money.

Fact #471

When my brother Michael was a little boy, he couldn't pronounce the word flower, and instead he said flala. My family adopted the word and to this day we all, even Annie, refer to flowers as flalas.

Mother day

It's so different being a mother to a pre-adolescent girl than to a baby--feeling her pull away, witnessing pain in her face, watching her make mistakes that although I know are gifts, I wish she never had to make.

Every so often I take out the two journals David and I started for Annie during my pregnancy and I re-read the entries. I reconnect to the mother I am, the one separate from battles and negotiations, from test scores and talks about boys, from my fear and her fearlessness. I connect to pure mother love, the place where she's pulling away and coming close, where she belongs to me, to herself and to the world, and where her mistakes are big enough to change her life, and nothing more than spilled milk.


November 28 1997
Annie, 5-weeks-old

I love you madly and passionately, and it feels like I must love you more than any mother in the history of mothers has ever loved any baby in the history of babies. I can’t wait for you to become a little walking, talking girl, but at the same time I want you to stay 5 weeks and 2-days old forever. With a bushy head of dark hair, a big chubby face, no teeth, huge baby eyes, the most beautiful soft round naked human body I've ever seen, toes that grip tightly to my fingers, tiny hands that hold on while nursing, little butt, big smiles, all eyes and gums that make me fill to the top with love and joy and feelings I never knew I had inside of me.

I am not a poet, but once I have settled into being your mom a bit, I will write you a poem... or try anyway.

Someday I want you to know how much your mom loves you and how happy you’ve made me.



For more, click here, and here.

Sitting at the sidebar

From the new Miles Davis tribute CD, Miles From India.

Although definitely worth listening to all the way through, it just can't compare to the live performance last night at Town Hall--the kind of night that makes you want to stand up and give thanks.

Maternal moment #916,003

Discovering that your child's sneakers are almost the same size as your sneakers.

The not-so-sweet side of Honey

Sitting at the sidebar

Headache Tonight

Me: "I used to love the Eagles."

David: "Why?"

Me: "I just did."

David: "I'd rather listen to Grobschnitt!"

End in sight

Blogger Status

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

Some users may be seeing star ratings on their posts without having opted in to this new feature. This is an experimental feature that was accidentally enabled on some users' blogs. We're currently working to remove star ratings on all affected blogs.

Seeing stars

They suddenly appear, then disappear, then reappear. Tell me I'm not the only one who sees yellow stars at the bottom of every one of my posts.

It looks like a rating system but I didn't put it there, and since its arrival the blog is moving at slow speed.

Advice, help, whatever, would be greatly appreciated.

Cooked

Baked Salmon

4 (5 ounces each) salmon fillets
2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
3 tomatoes, chopped, or 1 (14-ounce) can chopped tomatoes, drained
2 chopped shallots
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 1/2 teaspoon chopped fresh oregano
1 1/2 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme

Note from Katie: Although it calls for aluminum, I use parchment paper for this recipe--feels healthier.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

In a medium bowl, stir in the tomatoes, shallots, 2 tablespoons of oil, lemon juice, oregano, thyme, 1/2 teaspoon of the salt, and 1/4 teaspoon of the pepper. In the center of each of four large sheets of aluminum foil, spoon 1/2 teaspoon of oil. Place 1 salmon fillet atop each sheet of foil and turn to coat with the oil. Sprinkle salmon with the remaining 1/2 teaspoon of salt and 1/2 teaspoon of the pepper. Spoon the tomato mixture over the salmon. Fold the sides of the foil over the fish and tomato mixture, covering completely, then seal the packets closed. Place the foil onto a large, heavy baking sheet. (The salmon packets can be prepared up to this point 6 hours head. Refrigerate until ready to bake.

Bake until salmon is just cooked through, about 25 minutes. Using a large metal spatula, transfer the packets onto plates and serve.

Prep

Evolving 101

When you know yourself more than you did, approve of yourself more than you did, and life becomes so important that self-preservation is no longer an idea, it's a given.


Image by Cristian René

Lot of love

Man in car: "I was going to tell you that I love you... if you were pulling out of that parking spot."

Me: "I''m sorry, I'm not. But I have other good qualities, just ask my mother."

Fact #417,054

The composer for my film was the subject of this sketch--that eventually became the cover for this album.

Petculiar behavior

Honey chases her tail, attacks her own paws, barks at people wearing sunglasses, and growls at shoes and avocados.

Tuesday morning light

The big house

My parents moved into this building 28 years ago, and my mom is still there. Now we call it "Gramma's house."

Sitting at the sidebar

Pardon the phase, I just can't resist posting this one.

I overheard in New York

Tourist on cellphone: "Man, you should see this place! I'm telling you, multi-million dollar apartments, then you come downstairs and it smells like a horse's ass!"

~Today, Central Park South & 58th Street.

Sitting at the sidebar

Please don't spoil my day, I'm miles away.

Fact #22,011

19 years ago tonight, the father of my child and I went on our first date. We saw the movie Field of Dreams.

Hot diggity

Annie: "I like your buns."

Me: "Oh, thanks, I've been working out."

Annie: "Not your buns! The ones on my chicken dogs!"

Fab 4s

Annie: "How many people are in the Rolling Stones?

Me: "Four, I think."

Annie: "All guys?"

Me: "Yep."

Annie: "How many in the Beatles?"

Me: "Four."

Annie: "All guys?"

Me: "Yep."

Annie: "How many in Queen?"

Me: "Four."

Annie: "All guys?"

Me: "Yep."

Annie: "See a trend?"

Sitting at the sidebar

Here's a little Louis Prima for you.

Image-in-New York

My new, lovely friend Jean, and the amazing George Garzone.

Free jazz

We all bring ourselves when we enter any experience, and the show last night at Cornelia Street Cafe in Greenwich Village was definitely an experience, and I was definitely there.

The music of The Fringe was joyful and at times humorous, but what surprised me was how beautiful and profound it was, and how deeply it traveled. Even when saxophone player George Garzone went "wild," he aways seemed to maintain a watchful eye on where it was and where it was going.

The music was free and free to fly, and the infrequent hints of melody or a familiar chord offered respite; like home to a migrating bird, a place that says, Here you are, replenish, now go again.