Flying to Frankfurt

Wednesday, we fly to Frankfurt. It’s a short break from work and, more importantly, time with Literary Rapture before she returns home in December. We’ll eat vegetarian meals on our flight, chased by Tylenol PM, and hope to arrive fairly rested. I’ve flown into Frankfurt several times—and stayed one night in its worldly airport hotel—but always quickly traveled on to final destinations north or south. I’m interested to explore this city with its open-air markets, historic districts, public gardens and business energy. I look forward to meeting Literary Rapture’s workmates at the Frankfurt Book Fair, and having her show us around a city she’s come to know on her own terms. You can find the local time in Frankfurt here:

Time in Frankfurt, Germany

provided by World Time Zones

Alabama Lit

Literary Rapture sent this to me today. The Books of the States: Alabama (9 electoral votes) is my home state’s contribution to Amazon’s ongoing blog series by Tom Nissley. Each state is limited to the number of its electoral votes in honor of the upcoming elections. A little skimpy for southern states, in my opinion. Fewer votes maybe…but all those great writers!

Other states with family ties:

Mississippi (6 electoral votes) clearly needs more slots for its literary contributions. I give Tom a lot of credit, but even he acknowledged this post was an exercise in omissions. Still an impressive list.

Ohio (20 electoral votes). Plenty of room here, from Toni Morrison to Erma Bombeck to Zane Grey, my Ohio grandfather’s all-time favorite author. Probably both grandfathers’. Between them, I think every Zane Grey novel ever written sat on bookshelves in West Chester, Ohio and Fayette, Alabama.

Colorado (9 electoral votes) hasn’t been posted yet. But that’s OK, we’ve been pretty busy being a swing state.

PCPGH3

Yesterday I flew to Pittsburgh for PodCamp, an Unconference for people involved in social media. A friend who is helping organize the event invited me to attend on behalf of Elastic Lab. So here I am…in Pittsburgh for the first time in my life (except for driving or flying through which don’t really count). While I’m likely to be one of the oldest people in attendance, I’m told that Podcampers are exceedingly friendly and helpful. I expect to learn a lot from my new, young friends. More to come.

Speaking up

The last time I actually campaigned in an election was 1970. I was sixteen. Four years earlier, my sister and I traveled to rallies around Alabama with our parents, hoping (against hope, it now seems) to defeat George Wallace. We wore sundresses and white straw hats and handed out DeGraffenried bumper stickers to anyone who would take them. It was marvelously exciting. But the task got harder and scarier the further south we drove. These were vitriolic times, filled with the kind of hate and fear that paralyzes good people. Sadly, much like today.

So, I’ll try to pick up where I left off so long ago. While bumper stickers have become car magnets, and bullhorns have become websites and blogs, much about campaigning is the same. It’s people sticking their neck out, speaking up for someone they believe in. My choice is Barack Obama.

Tag this

I digress just a bit from my usual, if wildly sporadic, thoughts on South and West to play a game of tag…

Literary Rapture was tagged by loves german books. I was tagged by Literary Rapture. And now I tag 10 Ideas and two very special non-blogger/Facing South readers (who will have to be contacted more traditionally to put their comments on this page).

Here’s our task:

1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.

I’ll start.

“Yes, in a way. But what about you, Gemma? Would you trade innocence for experience?”

…page 123 from my current read, The Sixteen Pleasures by Robert Hellenga. An unassuming passage except that Gemma is a sister in the Ordo Carmelitarum and the question is about celibacy.

This book has happily transported me back to Florence, Italy. It’s November 1966 following the Arno flood. Santa Croce, the Vasari Corridor, Fra Filippo Lippi, religion, politics, a faulty tape recorder and an international effort to rescue waterlogged frescoes and manuscripts (including one incredible book in the library of the Carmelite convent) are making this a pleasurable read, for sure.

April Fool’s

I don’t usually observe anniversaries like these, but my father died 15 years ago today. It’s easy to remember the specific date, I suppose, for the irony. Tomorrow is April Fool’s Day and he might have found some humor in that. Looking back at 1993, it wasn’t a great year for hoaxes. The April Fool’s pranks that year weren’t particularly deceptive or even inventive. As usual, they were about whether you were paying attention in the first place and, if you got caught by the joke, whether you could laugh at yourself. Now there’s a gift. My dad could be pretty self-conscious but when he laughed out loud at the world it was a thing to behold…high-pitched, physically contorted and utterly joyful. I can still hear him and that makes me smile. Happy April Fool’s Day, everyone.

Home for the holidays

It’s that time again. In three days, I will get on a plane and fly to my childhood home. (I’ve spent 26 of the last 30 years in the air at Christmas. It’s a good way to get close to the general population, much like any flight to Las Vegas.) There will be six of us—my husband, daughter, mother, sister and brother-in-law. The guys will sleep and eat. The girls will go to the grocery store. And we’ll all end up at Walmart at some point. It will take at least a day to get comfortable in a place infinitely slower and quieter than those we come from. To take a deep breath of boxwood and pine trees, and look for stars in the darkness.

Denver Turkey Trot

A great way to start the holiday even at 18°.

Natalie Chanin’s Buttery Buttermilk Biscuits

Every once in a while, something happens to transport you to another time or place. Food does that for me. In spite of being raised in biscuit country, I’ve never made very good ones. But when I ran across this recipe from clothing designer Natalie Chanin of Alabama Chanin, I was feeling soulful and tried again. At the first bite, I nearly fell on the floor. Wondrous would be an apt description. Perfect plain or with a drop of Colorado honey.

Buttery Buttermilk Biscuits

2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for rolling
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 stick unsalted butter, cut into cubes, plus 2 tablespoons melted
3/4 cup buttermilk

Preheat the oven to 425°. In a large bowl, combine the 2 cups of flour with the baking powder and salt. Using a pastry blender or 2 knives, cut in the cubed butter until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Add the buttermilk and stir with a fork or wooden spoon until a soft dough forms. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and knead 2 or 3 times, just until it comes together.

Using a lightly floured rolling pin, roll out the dough 1/2 inch thick. Using a lightly floured 2 1/4-inch round cutter, stamp out biscuits as close together as possible. Pat the dough scraps together and stamp out more biscuits. Transfer the biscuits to a large baking sheet. Bake for about 20 minutes, until the biscuits are risen and golden. Brush the hot biscuits with the melted butter and serve them hot or at room temperature.

The biscuits can be kept in an airtight container for up to 4 hours. Serve at room temperature or briefly reheat in a low oven before serving.

Sweet deja vu

Last night, as I drove to replenish our candy supply, I had a flash of Halloweens long gone. Our street teemed with trick-or-treaters for once in a very long time — Dracula, mummies, a tiny Buzz Lightyear, some I couldn’t categorize. Then ahead of me in the dark, walking slowly with her friend, was Dorothy. Blue dress, white apron, anklets, ruby slippers. Like Halloweens Past. Maybe it’s still possible for small mobs of children to take back the night, welcome at every door, like misplaced extras from the back lots of Universal Pictures.