I usually like to buy seasonal produce, meat from the butcher, some dry goods, and some dairy goods.  I like to bi-weekly for the perishables.  I like to meal plan for a couple days at a time.  Since it's just my husband and I, I don't have to really think too far in advance for things.  I don't like to cook food out of season.  I really love to go to the local growers and farm markets, because the best organic produce comes from those types of retailers.  I'm addicted to Wegman's for specialty items like gourmet cheeses, chutneys, and spices.  They have everything practically and more.  I really like going to more than one market to purchase groceries, because you really can economize and find the items you really want instead of settling.  If you have a really great butcher, why would settle on shell steaks from the grocery store.  You see my meaning.  Speaking of steaks, steak au poivre sounds wonderful.

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This was my exercise for my lit class.  I've never written fiction on my own volition.  I actually contemplated not posting it.

It's My Request by Denise Frame-Leitch (Based on themes presented in Antigone)

I
walked the sandy coast; feeling the soft white sand through my toes.
The weather was perfect and the sun was shining brightly above me. The
salt air filtered into my lungs and invigorated me. Around me were the
distant scents of coconut tanning lotion. I waded my feet into the
lukewarm greenish brown Atlantic Ocean water. Even though such beauty
surrounded me, my mind was still preoccupied with his presence. I could
still feel the tender touch of his hands on my shoulders and his
whispers of "I love you Soleil." in my ears. Watching him go through
the agony of his illness and then eventually losing him was the hardest
thing that I had ever gone through. It scarred me inside, and the pain
felt irrevocable. I had no choice it seemed, and yet love so often
leaves us with few choices. The hot tears ran down my face while
inaudible sobs racked through my body. I uttered in a choked whisper,
"I miss you darling." This was followed by my shame of being selfish.
Mike wouldn't have wanted me to be so maudlin about the whole thing. In
fact, he was the one who planned his wake and funeral. He booked the
Irish pub, and even the bagpipers. Mike was always that organized, and
he said that if he were to die, he would want to go out with a bang.

I
pulled my body away from the wet sandy coast, and trotted up the beach.
I grabbed the soft terry towel, and began to wipe the encrusted sand
from my feet. I wiped my tear-soaked eyes with a tissue from my tote
bag and disposed in the garbage can adjacent to the stairs leading
toward the boardwalk. My movements felt mechanical, and it seemed that
these days I had to push myself to do anything. The pain of my loss
seemed to invoke large amounts fatigue. Just as I was heading to my
car, the cell phone rang. I looked on the caller id and noticed that it
was my friend Patricia. When I answered, the first thing that she said
was, "Soleil, I hope that you aren't moping around the house like you
were yesterday, because you are really making me worried." In reply, I
uttered, "I'm actually just leaving the North beach right now."
Breathing a very audible sigh of relief, Patricia says, "That's good!
You needed the fresh air, and a chance to think and process." Just
then, she added, "You need to get away from here. Go on a cruise or
stay at some kind of resort-type destination. Something that will take
your mind off things." I ran the idea through my mind for a brief
second and then I remembered that I still have to deal with my
husband's will. "It's not possible right now Patti. I still have so
many things to iron out when it comes to Mike's unfinished business."
While fumbling for the keys to my car I ended the phone call, "I have
to go; I need to make sure that I drop the last of the paperwork to the
lawyer's office by the end of the day." "If you need anything Soleil,
just call me." "Thanks hon. I'm really grateful that I have such a
great friend in you." We said our byes and I started the car."

I
started the car and drove toward my home, and I remembered how Michael
loved to jog on the boardwalk everyday. As I turned the key and took
off my running shoes in the foyer, I saw his running shoes on the mat
closest to the door. Mike was addicted to running. He always said that
it was his form of "meditation." In fact, Michael was the healthiest
person I had ever known. He ate right, he never smoked, barely drank,
and he always made sure to workout at least every other day. I used to
try to keep up with him, but my whining and groaning just made him
giggle at me. He'd slowed down to my pace and say through some
chortling, "It hurts to be this beautiful." I lightly swatted him and
uttered, "Yeah right." So rather than going through agony of jogging
down five miles of wooden planks, I stuck to my half hour on the
treadmill. This way I felt like I accomplished something, rather than
feeling sort of embarrassed. After one of his marathon runs, Michael
came home and had breakfast with me. When he walked up to the table, I
noticed a large bruise on his lower shoulder. "Honey, did you bump into
something." Mike looked at me funny and said, "Nope. Why would you say
that?" I was confused and asked, "Did you see the big bruise on your
right shoulder?" He looked puzzled and, after my insistence, went into
the downstairs bathroom to inspect his injury. When he came out of the
bathroom, he didn't really seem concerned. I must have bruised it when
I put the bicycles on the rack in the garage yesterday. I rolled my
eyes at him and said, "Did the bike fall on you? Because, that is
something else." I then added, "You have to be careful next time." He
kissed me lightly on the lips and whispered, "I was born cautious."
"I'm going to take a shower. I'll be down a few Soli"

After
that conversation, we didn't think too much of the event. Just chalked
it up as a trivial accident. I didn't think that this was the herald
toward something much worse. Two weeks later, Michael complained of
pulling a muscle. I asked him to show me where it hurts, and I noticed
a large golf ball sized lump near his armpit. I immediately begged him
to see the doctor. He agreed, because the pain was so bad that he
couldn't raise his arm all the way. Mike's general practitioner was
very concerned and immediately referred him for tests. Dr. DeFeo had
all different types of tests done and after sitting on pins and needles
for more than a few weeks, we finally found out his diagnosis. It was
Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. It was the kind of thing that you have to put
emphasis on. Cancer is something my husband called "The great
equalizer." I remembered sitting with Michael in the waiting room at
the oncologist's office, and how it smelled like rubbing alcohol. It
made me stomach flip-flop. We must've been there for a good hour before
the young receptionist, "Mr. Campbell. The doctor will see you now."
Since it was a consultation this time, I was allowed to be there with
him. Doctor Kent said that it metastasized into his bones, and
treatment would give him at least a 40% chance of remission. The doctor
said. "I won't sit here and make false promises to you Mr. Campbell,
because time is something that isn't a luxury in this case." When we
entered the house after the consultation with the doctor, I sat down on
the couch in shock… Surgery was the first obstacle he had to pass. Then
we had to cling onto the hope that treatment would extend his life.

I
don't remember when he said it, but I can recall the pain of hearing
it. "Soleil… If I couldn't make the decision myself, I would want you
to go forward with my wishes." I gasped and then it spilled out like a
reflex, "How can you even talk that way so casually. You are not
dying!" Just then, he looked at me and sighed. "Soli baby, you know it
and I know it. My life expectancy is only a little more with treatment,
then without. I made the decision to make it easier on both us," Mike
looked at me intently and said, "I had to make a living will. Please
don't resent me for that." "I love you Soleil. "I pulled the surgical
mask away from my face, and kissed him lightly on the forehead. Over
the last few months, not only had he lost his hair, but he lost his
defense against simple viruses. I sat on the edge of his hospital bed
with my head in my hands, "How can you give up like this?" I screamed.
"It's not giving up; it's being resolute with the cards I've been
dealt." Little did I know that his secret arrangement wasn't going to
be as much of a surprise to me as it will be for his mother and father.

Doctors barraged him with offers of different experimental
treatments. After countless bags of chemotherapy, and dozens of
different types of radiation, he finally realized the finality of it
all. "I remembered why I hate all this hospital crap. I hate not having
a life outside of these four walls." When Mike's condition worsened, he
declined treatment. His decision to have hospice care was something
that he struggled with during that time. Mike's parents didn't share in
his need to end medical treatment. His parents, Paul and Kelly were
appalled. Kelly cried, "Are you serious about this! This is your life
you're taking for granted; Son how can you just give up like this?" She
was obviously shaken. His father reinforced the same lack of
understanding by saying, "Son do you need to be on antidepressants. You
can't possibly give up your chance at life." Mike continued reassuring
them that this was the right thing to do. While this was occurring, I
tried to comfort him during this time. I was there at his bedside every
day, and I took advantage of the family leave act during that time. My
friend Patti and my sister Maria came by every day to help. Kelly and
Paul made sure that he had clean clothes and bed linens, and they would
bring pictures and other assorted items to keep his spirits up. When he
went into a coma, unable to breathe on his own without life support, I
knew that his plan needed to be followed.

My in-laws were in
front of the doctor when I spoke to him about Mike's living will. Their
faces went pale and they were shocked as the words poured from my mouth
through tears. "You can't do that to him; you can't kill him off." Paul
said angrily. "What makes you God? How can you express that kind of
cruelty to someone who loved you more than his own life?" I explained
to him gently, "This is something that Mike wanted. He didn't want to
live without quality of life. This is the plan he made for himself."
When I gave him the living will, Kelly grabbed it from his hands. "This
is barbaric. I won't let you do that to my son. I won't let you kill
him." Over those weeks, Paul and Kelly got a lawyer and filed a motion
to have the living will reversed. Patricia and Maria went with me to
every court date. There were endless pleas from each side to preserve
what is indeed Michael's quality of life. I had to make sure that I
visited my husband on days that my in-laws weren't there. Everything
seemed to be stuck in red tape while my husband continued to suffer in
hospice. If he were able to, I know that he would follow the same
protest that I'm crusading on in his behalf. Finally, the day came when
I spoke my plea to have his life ended naturally without the use of
machines. "Mike didn't want to be a burden physically and mentally by
being alive artificially. Even though I didn't understand him at first,
I realized that I was being selfish. I love him more than anything in
the world and I would never do anything to deliberately harm him." Then
I felt myself sobbing uncontrollably, "Please don't make him suffer;
It's not what he deserves." I found myself unable to speak, and I was
excused. Even though the legality won out in my favor, I didn't feel
like a winner. You could see that the judge didn't agree with the
ruling, but the law speaks well above his opinion.

"In the
end I lose my best friend, I lose my lover, I lose my companion." I
said this quietly next to his bedside. "I will always love you." Kelly
heard me. I didn't know she was there until she gave me a hug. Paul
followed after. "We've all lost dear. We should have realized that in
the first place." After all the legal fees, court dates, vigils, and
uncontrollable sobs, they embraced me. They knew how much Mike loved
me. "I think that we all have to put our personal views aside Soleil."
Paul said in a lowered tone. After all the deliberation, they realize
his need to be out of pain, suffering, and artificial existence. Along
with Kelly and Paul, my sister Maria and my friend Patti sat with me
when he passed away. It was quiet and peaceful; there were no
horrifying sounds and struggles. Nothing occurred the way I thought,
which goes to show the random ways that life can start and end. "I'm so
sorry sweetie." Maria whispered as she hugged me tightly. Patti hugged
me and said, "He out of pain now Soli." My head bowed down in sobs.
This was not only in grief, but also for relief. Those feelings
sickened me, and I felt almost criminal for feeling that way. All I
wanted was to give Michael what he needed, and it spun into a personal
crusade. I know that after the funeral and will are finalized, I will
never see Paul and Kelly again. In the end, we all regret the
selfishness of our humanity. These moments of selfishness made precious
time irretrievable from someone we deeply loved.

This is a very difficult and dicey question to answer, because I really feel that a voting choice should be a private matter.  I have to say that I feel both candidates lack the kind of values that I would want to see in the white house.  When you see two candidates from different parties following similar leads, it makes you wonder whether or not we actually have two parties.  Why should this country only have two parties?  When does that symbolize diversity or democracy?  Those are questions people should ask themselves.  I don't see any reason to vote for either candidate, and I would rather vote by writing a candidate in or find a third party candidate that actually cares.  My answer is neither.

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This is a story that I wrote for a
class that I'm taking this semester.  This is my interpretation of the
miracle of life.  This is something that I haven't experienced first
hand.  All of this was done under the guise of scientific and fictional
translation.  Hope that you all enjoy it, and maybe even giggle at my
lay acumen for this subject.  (the humour at the end is part of the
exercise)

Life began with a being smaller than the head
of a pin.  The immensity of the surroundings seemed to enhance the
realization of it's meager size.  The cells were surrounded by other
similar beings that fought to grasp hold of the fleshy lifeline.  This
lifeline which will be the sustainer by which this cellular being's
existence will depend.  When the cells were implanted with sperm, they
began dividing leaving one or more chances for a new life to form.  On
the final division, one human cell remained.  This cell was ushered
into the embryonic stages and it's gender was defined.  As development
accelerated, the human host began gazing at the being through a type of
radiation.  The embryo could hear emotional sounds through host's
expanded abdomen when the gender was identified.  The fetus was most
definitely female.  The fetus could feel the sensation of her giggling
as it was moving through the fluid.  During the tine of gestation, the
fluid surrounding the embryonic fetus kept it warm and safe.  It's
nourishment came from a small cord attached to a placental wall.  Over
months the fetus slowly grew from it's embryonic fetal stage and looked
like the human baby soon to make it's debut.  The baby's feet gently
kicked the wall of the host's womb.  At the last stage of fetal
development,  the fetus had decreased space for it's appendages to move
or revolve.  The peace of comfort was suddenly broken by contractions. 
The baby's body was sliding traumatically through a canal.  The warmth
and comfort of the nine month stay was coming to an end.  Through a
skirmish, the baby's thrust into this world came suddenly.  The first
labored breath of life came with a swift and merciless cry that
reddened the baby's newborn face and brought salty tears into it's
eyes.  This seemed to ease the tension in the space.  It brought tears
and soft giggles from the mother and father.  The small tiny being was
cleansed with warm flowing liquid and strange bubbling solution.  This
was done ever so gently by tall white shrouded individuals.  The tiny
being shook from a cold that it had never felt before.   A blanket and
pink hat were swiftly swaddled around the tiny form.  The warm touch
from an extended appendage encircled the tiny child in a soft cloth
like material.  The chill from the air eased, and strangely endearing
coos were heard while the mother embraced the small fragile form.  The
father was gently handed the baby to hold as well.  A small smile
crossed the baby's face; it was human.  The father giggled while
excitedly telling the mother of his discovery.  The mother quickly
added, "That's not a smile; it's probably gas."  After all of the
labor, the mother slumbered comfortably in her bed.  The magical nine
months will be forgotten by the baby, but she will always remember.   

I've met many of my idols, but I have three that I would really be interested in meeting.  One would be Johnny Cash.  He was such an impressive artist and songwriter.  Cash's songs are timeless and full of passion.  I would also like to meet Queen Elizabeth the I.  She was such a strong woman in a man's world and is definitely one of my heroes.  I would also like to meet Gustav Klimt.  He was a wonderful talented artist whose work is absolutely brave, passionate, and beautiful. 

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I know this is going to sound corny, but Snickerdoodles cookies.  My mom used to make them in the wintertime when I came home from school.  It was sort of cool because she would let my sister and I roll out the cookie balls and place them on the baking sheet.  It was nice because it was something that we did together.  I guess it's the sentimental part that keeps me making those cookies every holiday. 

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I would say Catherine Zeta-Jones, because she always dresses so immaculately and beautiful.  Absolutely one of the best dressed celebrities.  I think second would be Reese Witherspoon.

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1. The Last Emperor
2. Stealing Home
3. Kundun
4. Fahrenheit 9/11
5. Elizabeth: The Golden Age

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I have been sort of quiet on here... So figured it was time for a new post.  I'm back at school again for the autumn semester.  It's been smooth sailing so far.  I have another class to take tonight called "New Jersey History."  This course was not my first choice, but now I'm intrigued.  My husband and I usually take a course together every semester I take here at the college.  He was curious about the course as well.  I took a World Literature online course this Autum as well.  The other course I have is Sociology.  I've been reading the chapters of the text book, and I have to say that it reminds me alot of Cultural Anthropology and General Psych!  This might make me breeze through this course.  All of my classes are at night which is pretty cool.  I don't have to rush in the morning.  I'm really not a morning person by any stretch.  I'm totally nocturnal. 

So I've been watching the political conventions on the C-SPAN YouTube site.  I did this not because I was curious about the candidates that were running for office, but to hear the speeches.  I couldn't believe how roundabout these polticians are about what they call "facts."  It's absolutely ridiculous!  They claim alll these different reasons for discrediting their opponents, and have absolutely nothing to back it up.  There speeches, aside for Hillary Clinton, were very compelling.  I can see why they were nominated, and why the voter gets reeled in by their diatribes.  Ah well... That's America for you. 

I have to go, because I'm getting an early dinner.  I'll elaborate more later.  Later on kids.....

~Denise   

If I were granted a last meal on death row, it would consist of:

A Ketel One Caramel Apple Martini

 
 Rogan Josh with Basmati Rice

Fresh, hot Naan Bread

Gulab Jamun

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