What I'm Doing These Days

I had a really clear lightbulb moment on November 8, 2016. I know the precise date because it was election day. But this has nothing to do with the election, politics, or the ramifications of that election. Or maybe it does. Let's think this through.

On that fateful day I was talking with Pete Cowdin from the Rabbit Hole KC who'd just given a fascinating talk at Hallmark during Word Week. I was walking him out of the building. We talked about the Rabbit Hole. We talked about my job. Something Pete said caused a lightblub to switch on over my head and I walked away from him saying to myself, "I think I just got an idea for a Barbara Marhsall project."

I'd never before had even an inkling of an idea that was remotely worthy of a BMA proposal. So I wasn't sure if the idea I'd had after talking to Pete was legit. I spent a good 12 months thinking about it, refining it, seeking input from knowledgable folks (past BMA winners like Sergio, my wise and wonderful mother, my cleverest confidantes, Pete himself).

Finally, after much refinement, in January of this year I pitched my idea. And as anyone who knows me knows - I won.

design by John Donne - illustration by Lynn Giunta

I'm now one month into a six month sabbatical and have been blown away ... both by the excitement I feel as I explore the breadth and depth of the children's picture book world ... and by the disorientation I feel because - let's face it - I don't know what in the sam hill I'm doing. It's a huge shift to go from knowing just what to do to being so entirely clueless. I mean, even when, at work, I've had assignments that were nebulous, there is at least always some framework within which to work, some guide posts, some clear end goal in mind, and an amazing art director partner by my side with whom to figure things out. Here I am now - all by myself - making things up as I go along.

Not unlike Harold and the Purple Crayon. Faced with an empty page, I am creating the world in which I'm living for the duration of this sabbatical. And even though it'd be easy (and discouraging!) to say to myself "I don't know anything" - I've challenged myself to say instead, "I'm going to learn so much." And I am loving it.

I'm grateful for that day in November when a happenstance request ("Emily, do you mind escorting Pete around the building before he leaves?") and a quotidian question from Pete ("What is it you do here?") led me down the path I'm on now.

And as for the election and its ramifications? Well, I think we'd be fools not to consider the possibility that an important step towards ameliorating many of the problems that are breaking our hearts today is the foundation of empathy, imagination, and understanding that can be delivered so powerfully and poignantly to our next generation through books. From right here in our own homes and in our own laps.

Join me on the journey - www.TheBeginningOfYourLifeBookClub.com - and send me YOUR stories of the powerful way reading books with your kids has made a difference for you.

2016: Year in Review

This is the reflective, emotional holiday post. To read the highly caloric baking-only holiday post - click here.

blessings

I was looking at this thing on my door frame - a blessing I wrote on Epiphany, January of 2016. It means Christus mansionem benedicat or "May Christ bless this house."  Since everyone universally agrees - at least in meme-land - that 2016 was an epic fail, I looked at it and thought, "Well, I guess that didn't work."

But then I remembered that I had no deeply held personal associations with any of the big names who passed away so tragically this year. And while I recognize their loss as significant and unfortunate, none of it made me that ... sad. (And even though I DO feel a tragic sense of loss regarding the election, that's less of a 2016 thing and more of a 2015-2020 and beyond thing.)

And - I remembered where WE were - the four of us in this little house - on Epiphany, January of 2016. How quickly I have deposited into my memory banks the fragility of our lives last Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year. How poignant it all seems to me now as we move through a much more solid holiday season this year. How profound the simple things are in this context.

There is a lot to worry about in the world today. And worry about it I will. (I'm good at that.) But for now, the wise thing to do seems to be to take stock.

I didn't know a year ago that we'd lose Daisy. That was the straw that broke this camel's back. I'd endured a lot already as I watched my most beloved family members endure diagnoses and enter recovery. I thought I was in the clear. I lost it when she died. I found it eventually. Whatever "it" is ... homeostasis I guess? But not without help.

I also didn't know, a year ago, that I would find Schultz and Schatzi and that they would be utterly delightful.

Sergio is on a completely different path in life and while his diagnosis last fall and his departure from Hallmark early this year brought major shifts in our world, it also catapulted him into a wonderfully fulfilling career track. It is lovely to stand aside and watch.

And here's something I don't say too often because it is cliche and it is trite and it feels like I'm gloating but ... I really love my job. Hallmark, like all of us, is flawed. But, like all of us - er, most of us, anyway, it means well. And every day I go to work I look forward to how I'm going to spend the day. This - as I have witnessed in Sergio's case - is nothing to sneeze at. And the last 12 months of work have been especially good for me, full of opportunities to better understand myself and my world. And, if we've played our "cards" right, so to speak, opportunities to a make the world a better place.

Compassion makes the world a better place, don't you think? That's the other thing hanging with the 20 + C + M + B + 16 above our back door - a Buddhist mantra of compassion. We're going to need even more of that in 2017 and beyond. It will be my hope, my prayer, and my work to make a compassionate dent wherever I can.

Thought Provoking

Between the Hallmark Creative Leadership Symposium today and the Greater KC Interfaith Council's Table of Faith's event tonight, I have had many, many thoughts provoked.

Both events stirred ideas around the power of the question "why?" and the importance of believing in something bigger than yourself. Curiously, the theme of the CLS was "We Are One" and yet I came away from the event thinking about what distinct perspectives each of us in the creative community has to offer. How do we complement or supplement each other? How are we similar? How are we different? How are we unique? The broad range of great speakers and topics helped bring that aspect of diversity home to me. And those same questions might have been asked of the range of faith perspectives represented on the Interfaith Council. The Table of Faiths event was not themed "We Are One" though there is a sense that each of the faiths represented there all exist in harmony inspire of or because of their differences.

Each presenter and storyteller that I heard today fascinated me and inspired me. Here are just a few favorite thoughts from the day.

The Highlights - CLS

"The Disease of Self" - what Dayton Moore warns will tear apart a team or a business or a family

"Choose the thoughts that you think." Toni Blackman

"If you want to write, write." Gillian Flynn

"Don't ask the designer to design a bridge; ask the designer to get from one side of the river to the other." Mauro Porcini

"Believe that what you're doing has to be done." Chris Ciesiel

"Tear down your idea - what's left standing is something pure." Matt Castilleja

"Always know why you're doing what you're doing." Ryan Wing

"You turn folded card stock into joy grenades." Rob Riggle

"Know you're number 1 but act like the underdog." Carla Moore

"Music is not just sound. It's a force." Nolan Gasser

"My work is not satisfaction from all the people I've proved wrong. It's a tribute to everyone I've proved right." Raul Alejandro


The Highlight - Table of Faiths

"People were created to be loved and things were created to be used. The problem is that people are being used and things are being loved." - Shakil Haider (winner of the 2016 Steve Jeffers Award)

A good week to be an English major

Last week was a good week to be an English major in my world.

First there was Word Week, an event that Hallmark hosts every fall, organized by the Writing and Editorial community, in order to celebrate and venerate the craft of the writers and editors. We showcase our own skills and talents and we invite guest speakers to come enlighten us on their particular work. And each year I come away from Word Week with a keen appreciation for the work that my colleagues and I do.

Then, I left Word Week and headed to OKC for the weekend to attend homecoming at my alma mater, Southern Nazarene University. I typically don't attend homecoming but this year the school is honoring the Division of Cultural and Communication Studies so I made the trip down. Back when I was in school it wasn't called that; it was called the English Department. But nowadays the school has an entire division devoted to modern languages, literature, mass communication, and graphic design.

Since the homecoming focus was on the English department and our ilk, and since Word Week had just wrapped up at Hallmark, I found myself ruminating on all of us in that department - the storytellers of our day; the hard working word people wielding our rhetorical powers for good, not evil.

The writers and editors, yes, but also the broadcasters and bloggers ... the translators and interpreters ... the lyricists, the poets, the playwrights ... the advertising copy writers, the graphic designers ... the debaters, the PR folks, the speech writers and lawyers ... the professors and the presenters ... the VPs of corporate communications and the heads of foreign languages departments.

We are the ones who see the stories that others miss. Or we write the stories that others need to hear. We are the observant ones that find the patterns, the analytical ones that make you think. And the funny ones who make you laugh. We are the ones who ask the unanswerable questions and who don't shy away from trying to answer them. We are the ones that tell the narratives that help people find their place. We are the ones that make sense of a senseless world and find beauty in the darkest moments; we process the confusion and smooth out the rough spots and bridge the gap. We are the ones who write your greeting cards and who write the things you share on Facebook. We are the ones that write the songs, sermons, poems or prayers. We are the ones that know that just the right well-crafted message can make all the difference.

Everyone has the same set of 26 letters to work with. But we are the ones, the alchemists who take those same 26 letters and make some magic.

From the commercials that go viral for all to see ... to the blog posts that only a few people read - writing that matters is everywhere. Maybe we don't sign 4 year contracts for 80 million dollars, nor will we be welcomed home with a ticker tape parade and 800,000 attendees. But we know how hard we work and we know how important it is that we celebrate our skills.

Here's to all my fellow word people. Thank you for what you do.

Red Day

Yesterday after school I asked Julia if she had a good day. She said she had a "red day." I asked what that meant and if that's good or bad? (I was thinking she was channeling Holly Golightly and the "mean reds.") She explained that a red day is a bad day.

So I asked what color she would use to describe a good day (green) and if this is something they do in school (no). I thought it was a Montessori thing; I'm still not sure on that. She wasn't very clear. But I went on to ask her about what other colors mean and here is the full roster according to Julia ...

thinking about the rainbow

red - bad day
yellow - slow day
green - great day
blue - dancing day
orange - fast day
purple - not listening day
pink - listening day







This week was difficult. For me and many others at Hallmark under the dark cloud of layoffs. As we each waited to hear our fate, we all had some yellow days. Once we got our news, it felt like our days were orange. Some people had red days and some had green. And for 165 people who are embarking on something new, the next few days and months will probably cycle through any and all of those colors - the full rainbow. It's hard to say goodbye to coworkers and it feels strange to feel the company shift so much again for those of us that remain employed. One thing is for sure: Hallmarkers are empathetic people. It's what makes us good at our jobs. The outpouring of support that I have witnessed this week is nice to see. I think there have been some good pink days.

Last night we had so much rain and a very loud thunderstorm, too. As if we need more rain. (I'm quite sure that the clouds are having some purple days and are ignoring our requests to lay off with the water works already.) The rain is making for some really, really red days for our farmers. Many will suffer great loss.

I would like to think about hope instead. The rainbow after the rain. There are no promises. But at least the sun is shining today. Maybe soon we'll have a blue day.

Urban Grown Farms and Gardens Tour - 2013

Switzer Neighborhood Farm

This year marks the 5th biennial urban farms and gardens tour, hosted by Cultivate KC, and the urban growth (pun intended) this city has seen is nothing short of amazing. In 2005 when the tour began, there were 6 farms on the tour and 300 people who attended the whole tour. Every tour since has seen an exponential increase in both attendees and farm sites on the tour. This event now boasts 60 sites and has spanned to cover two days; the small number 300 is more likely to describe the number of attendees in one day at one farm. By now the tour has reached the status of The Largest Urban Farm Tour in the nation. 

All of which means, this city has a lot of food growing in a lot of unexpected and important places. 

chard on the westside

Urban farming - popular enough now to merit its own magazine - is more than just the trendy thing to do. This movement goes beyond the offbeat juxtapositions: the dilapidated buildings next to lush raised beds of kale, rusted art and radishes, municipal chickens and downtown ducks. This is about growing food in precisely the spots where people are everyday. This is about revitalizing wasted land and making it livable, beautiful, and productive. This is about knowing where your food comes from and seeing it for yourself, whether you're a little kid, a grown woman, an old man. For some of these sites, this is about serving the underserved, about communities pulling together to take care of themselves, and about volunteers working to feed others. Whether a site is an oasis in a food desert or growing the freshest food right outside the restaurant kitchen, this tour is about "cultivating change." 

When I volunteered four years ago, I hurried all over town to help and see as much as I could in one day, but I could only make it to 5 farm sites. And that was before I had kids. So this year I was pretty proud when - over the course of 2 days, while Sergio was unavailable, with both girls in tow, stopping for potty breaks and diaper changes and breastfeeding - I made it to 5 farms again! Of course, that leaves 55 farms I wanted to see but couldn't. I'm not complaining, though. Too many urban farms and gardens is a great problem to have.

The Five Sites I Saw on My Tour

Hoop Dog Studio

The first stop on my tour was Hoop Dog Studio on Troost. Almost every morning we take Troost to take Julia to school, so I had noticed this place with its turquoise doors, its ransom-note like "Obama" made of old neon sign letters, its particular tall bird on the side of the building. But I never would have imagined that inside is an intricate maze of hydroponics, livestock, vegetables, flowers, and discarded materials turned into art. While you may need to steer your toddler clear of the rusted nails emerging from the rail road ties or the shards of (intentional) broken pottery, you will come away in awe of the majestic mess of growth and life - vegetables, fish and flowers - coming out of urban castoffs - rebar, upturned muffin tins, oxytetracyclinehydrochloride barrels. Maybe that "skelebird" on the side of the building is supposed to be a phoenix. 

Hoop Dog Studio on Troost 

Julia and Skelebird

Crown Garden

In the summer of 2010, I was an insignificant member of a small team of people helping to make plans to start an urban garden - to be maintained by volunteers at Hallmark - at the Ronald McDonald house right across the street. That summer the idea was just a seed. I went off to have a couple of babies over the next two years and then next thing I know - voila! The garden is going so strong that they are on the Urban Grown tour. There are some incredible master gardeners and volunteers at Hallmark who have contributed their time to this farm's success. And all the produce grown (organically, by the way) in the Crown Garden goes to the families and patients staying at the Ronald McDonald house. Which seems to me like such a really nice thing to do for people you don't even know.

Hallmark's Crown Garden

Julia's and my favorite. 

Beanstalk Children's Garden (at KCCG)

The Beanstalk Garden has a little bit of everything - several varieties of fruits, lots of vegetables, flowers, herbs and a fountain. I'm not sure if the water feature is meant to be toddler entertainment, but it sure was for us after a long hot day of touring. Jasper and Julia went wild with the water while we sat under the grapevines and fed the babies and imagined what we might grow in our own gardens even though we are not the skilled master gardeners who run these places - nevermind that. Seeing it all blossoming and blooming and making fruit makes you think - surely I could do this, too! And the truth is, with the help of KC Community Gardens, you probably could!

Beanstalk Children's Garden - and fountain

Pretty please with a cherry on top?

Herb'n Gardener
I wanted to stop in at Lew Edmister's place because Julia and I see Lew every Friday night at Badseed (for that same reason, I wanted to go to Urbavore, too, we just couldn't get there). I thought it'd be fun to see what he's growing so maybe Julia can put two and two together when she sees him at market. Lew also makes bread and - for that matter - made his own bread oven! "Fire!" said Julia, when she saw Lew checking the flames inside. While Lew got his dough ready for a demo, Julia and I ate mustard greens from the field and tried to keep Clara from eating the mulch. Lew brought us some nasturtiums to eat; Julia would have none of it, though she liked eating the little yellow mustard green flowers.

Clara at Herb'n Gardener 

Julia and the mustard greens

Switzer Neighborhood Farm
From Lew's I thought I'd head to the Westside Local to see some vertical gardening by Anti-Hero Landscaping, but I got sidetracked on the way when I passed what looks like a giant hole in the ground full of an urban farm. Chickens, ducks, geese, bees and butterflies; vegetables, flowers, and herbs. This place was literally a dumping ground for a long time before, 3 years ago, some folks in the Westside Community Action Network came along to clean it up. It's amazing and lush and complex and gritty and the kale in that raised bed was the heartiest I've seen. (And I have seen a lot of kale.) Julia loved the livestock and watched with rapt attention as the chickens responded to our "cock-a-doodle-doos!" and "kiki-ri-kees!" This neighborhood has really embraced this bit of blight and brought it back to life.

Switzer Neighborhood Farm
in the shadow of the abandoned Switzer school

Julia and the chickens

Halloween + Ana's Visit

Last year when I was still pregnant, I decided that I wanted to get my baby a garlic costume for Halloween. It turns out nobody makes garlic costumes for babies (which surprised me, but seems to surprise no one else). I didn't have the gumption to make one last year what with my five-week-old baby who just slept through all the festivities anyway. But this year I did and - despite being knocked out of commission for a while by sickness - I finally made my garlic costume dream come true.

Our Lil Stinker

Why garlic, you ask? I have no idea. I just really, really like it. And I wanted to call her "Our Lil Stinker." Turns out the jokes, etc., are half the fun of the garlic costume - "garlic makes everything better," said one co-worker. "If you have a couple more kids you could get a good marinara sauce going," said another. "Bet she scared off the kid dressed as Edward Cullen," said another. And my dad said, "Never has un ajo looked so muy, muy dulce." So true.

elder primos + Nina

On top of the fun of Halloween, we also enjoyed a visit from Sergio's cousin Ana, from California. We all spent a wonderful weekend together at a pumpkin patch and at the Nelson-Atkins museum, where we enjoyed a beautiful Dia de los Muertos exhibit and some gorgeous weather in the sculpture park.

the younger primos

our lil punkin

And of course, no Halloween would be complete without the right kind of food! Christy made Calabaza en Tacha (second year in a row - perhaps this will be our tradition?) which I did not photograph this year, but which I thoroughly enjoyed. And I went to a caramel-apple making party at work. (Halloween at Hallmark is so much fun.)

my caramel apple with the caramel still hot

On the big night, Nina and Emilio (and their parents) came over to do some trick or treating in our apartment building. Julia trick or treated, too, even though she doesn't understand that candy is edible. (She seemed to think it was all just a bunch of wrinkly, rattly toys.) The primitos mostly just enjoyed a night of running around and squealing with delight at one another while the mommies and daddies ate green tomato chutney and cheese and drank wine.

It was a very happy Halloween.

fairy godmother, garlic, and dinosaur

Surprise Mini Vacation

Last week I had a mini vacation that I wasn't expecting to have. In truth it was a 2.5-day leadership conference for work. Not what you thought I meant when I said "vacation," right? Truthfully, I was expecting it to be kind of dull. Dull and weird. I had to go stay at a hotel downtown. And by downtown I mean like 12 blocks from my apartment. Couldn't I just stay at home with my little family and just come to the hotel during the day for the conference? I wondered. But no. Sequestration is part of the deal.

Hotel Phillips c. 1931

I checked in early Tuesday morning and low and behold, the hotel is absolutely lovely. It's a historic hotel, built in 1931 and refurbished a few times, most recently in 2001. The art deco lobby is small but high ceiling-ed and impressive. The rooms are updated and modern without being too cold.

wall in elevator bay detail

The conference turned out to be way less dull than I thought. It was a lot of just talking about yourself - and who doesn't love that? I'm an ENFP, by the way. The meals were all provided - lackluster, but provided - and I was surprised to find how much I enjoyed a few days without meal prep. There was wine and beer in the evenings, which the organizers of the conference insisted on calling "cocktails." There was a gorgeous wood paneled room where we ate dinner. There were entertaining table-mates and dining companions. There was a constant supply of coffee in cups and saucers (so classic). There were no diapers to be changed. There was poor quality wireless internet so I couldn't do any work in the evenings, even though I really did try. There was a lush and comfy bed and there was TV.

bed detail

I had no idea how therapeutic it would be in the evenings, after a long day of introspection, just to sit in bed and watch TV - something extra special since it's something I never, ever do.

chair detail

The conference, which I fully expected to be intense, weird, dull and generally unpleasant in many other ways turned out to be just the respite that I didn't know I needed.

Our Fifteen Minutes

Sergio and I were in the paper on Sunday in the Star Magazine's Love Story column! Thanks to writer Deborah Shouse for capturing our story.

Frida Kahlo brought them together

By DEBORAH SHOUSE

Special to The Star

Keith Myers

Emily Akins and Sergio Moreno met when they worked together on a college assignment. They married and today work together at Hallmark Cards.

More News

• Love Story | Frida Kahlo brought them together
• Love Story | He honored her ‘year of planning’
• Love Story | Encounter at skating rink turns into marriage going on 66 years
• Love Story | Thrown together in a crowded café

Sergio Moreno was excited about the professor’s assignment: to list two artists and circle your favorite. The professor would choose one for each student to write about.

“I grew up in Mexico City,” Sergio says. “I had visited Frida Kahlo’s home and wanted to write about her.”

It was the fall of 1998, and 20-year-old Sergio was attending Southern Nazarene University in Bethany, Okla. He was upset when he was assigned his second choice, Diego Rivera.

“Why?” he asked the professor.

“Emily Akins already chose Frida. But the two of you can work together.”

Sergio had never met Emily, who was then a sophomore. But he agreed to work with her.

They began to study Frida together.

“Sergio stood out,” Emily says. “He was very polite and interesting, and we had similar interests.”

“I thought Emily was cute, and I was attracted by her family orientation,” Sergio says. “Her interests in music and art were different from everyone else’s.”

They became friends and often went out to eat together. After more than a year of friendship, Sergio asked Emily to be his girlfriend.

“I was reluctant,” Emily says. “I really liked him, but I wanted to focus on friends and school.”

But Sergio was so appealing, she began dating him. Both graduated in 2001. While Sergio stayed in Oklahoma, Emily moved to Kansas City, and they began a long-distance relationship. Six months into their separation, they decided they wanted to be together.

“I was ready to propose, but Emily hated jewelry,” Sergio says. “I knew she wouldn’t like a ring.”

Finally, he came up with a plan, based on Emily’s love of the English language. When Emily was visiting Oklahoma, Sergio invited Emily, her family and his sister out for dinner. During the meal, he got down on one knee and pulled out a ring box. Inside, was a tiny photo of the 20-volume Oxford English Dictionary, which he had purchased for Emily.

They were married on Jan. 1, 2003. Sergio moved to Kansas City, and today they work right next to each other as editorial directors at Hallmark Cards.

They like movies, theater and music. They enjoy cooking together and cherish their family meal time. They also cherish their time with their baby daughter, Julia.

“We’re having fun getting to know each other as parents,” Emily says. “Sergio is sensitive and warmhearted. He’s clever and makes me laugh. Plus, his fathering touches my heart.”

“Emily is a very sophisticated yet down-to-earth woman,” Sergio says. “I have always felt attracted to her, physically and intellectually. She inspires me and balances me.”

Deborah Shouse is a freelance writer. Suggest a Love Story couple by writing to lovestory@kcstar.com.

Swiss Chard

chard at Fair Share Farm

A couple of weeks ago at the Fair Share pick up, someone asked me how to fix chard. Then last night when I stopped in at the Hallmark CSA pick up at work, I heard many similar inquiries. So I pulled together three chard recipes to share: a simple one for making chard as a side dish, a more complex one for something more hefty, and a very nice soup as well, which I've talked about before in this venue. The leaves can be eaten raw if they're small enough, but I prefer them cooked. Freezing chard is a great way to save for use later; I did a lot of that last fall.

Basic info on Swiss Chard (from a Fair Share Farm newsletter of old):
A relative of the beet, Swiss chard is grown for its beautiful large leaves and stems which are good fresh or cooked. Chard is similar to spinach and beet greens, and high in vitamin A, calcium and potassium.

Simple Chard
2 tbsp. olive oil
2 cloves garlic
2 pinches red pepper flakes
1 lg. bunch of chard, stems and leaves chopped separately
salt
juice of 1/2 lemon or a few teaspoons of red wine vinegar

Heat the oil with the garlic and pepper flakes in a wide skillet over med-high heat until the garlic begins to color. Add the chopped stems of the chard and cook until softened a bit. Add the chard and toss to coat it with the oil. Add 1/2 cup water and cook until it's absorbed and the greens are heated through and wilted. Season with salt and a little lemon juice or vinegar.

Stuffed Chard Leaves (from Laurel’s Kitchen)
1 bunch Swiss Chard
2 1/2 cups cooked rice
1/2 cup chopped parsley
white part of 3 scallions/green onions – or 1 medium onion, chopped
2 tbsp chopped green garlic or garlic scapes
1/4 cup olive oil
1 1/2 cup ricotta or cottage cheese
1 tbsp chopped dill
1 egg beaten

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F
Sauté onion in olive oil
Mix all ingredients except chard
Wash and dry chard leaves remove stems
Place 2 tbsp of fillin no the underside of each leaf a third from the bottom. Fold over the sides of leaf to make a square packet. Place seam side down in a greased baking dish.
Cover and bake for 30 minutes of until done

You can also pour tomato sauce over this dish before baking, or even top with your favorite cheese.

ACQUACOTTA (VEGETABLE SOUP)
from the free Wild Oats magazine, Jan/Feb 2007
Acquacotta means "cooked water," but that doesn't begin to describe how delicious this soup is! It also freezes beautifully, so double the recipe if you like. Adding a Parmesan cheese rind to the soup while it's cooking is a clever Italian method for deepening flavors.

1 lb. Swiss chard or kale
4 Tbs. olive oil, plus extra for drizzling
1 large yellow onion, finely chopped
2 carrots, peeled and finely chopped
2 stalks celery, finely chopped (optional)
1/2 tsp. salt, or to taste
1/2 tsp. crushed red pepper, or more to taste
2 Tbs. tomato paste
1 cup tomato puree (or - in lieu of the paste and puree, use just over a cup of canned tomatoes and 4 cups of broth/water instead of 8)
2-inch Parmesan rind (optional)
6 1-inch-thick slices Italian bread
grated Parmesan cheese for garnish (optional)

1. Rinse chard in several changes of water until completely free of grit. Drain, stack leaves on cutting board, and finely chop. OR wait until the last minute to remove a hunk of frozen local greens from your freezer.
2. Heat olive oil in large pot over medium heat. Add onion, carrots and celery, and cook, stirring often, about 10 minutes, or until softened. Stir in salt, crushed red pepper and tomato paste; cook 2 minutes.
3. Reduce heat to medium low; add 8 cups water, tomato puree, Parmesan rind and chopped greens. Cook, partially covered, 45 minutes, or until very thick, stirring occasionally; add more water if needed. Season with salt and pepper. Remove rind.
4. To serve, place slice of bread in bottom of each bowl. Fill with soup, sprinkle with cheese, drizzle with oil, and serve.

A Lovely Way to Spend an Evening

As luck would have it, our Friday night plans did not conflict. The film we wanted to see at the KC Film Festival started at 5:15 and finished just in time for us to make it to the 7:00 reading at The Writers Place. What fortune.

The film is called "Crude Independence" one of our co-workers is related to the producer and told us about the film. It's about a small town - Stanley, North Dakota - that had been a long-standing, struggling but happy farming community until recently, when the area was the site of the largest oil find in North American history, and thus the site of many tenuous changes. The film was very smartly crafted and the story was tellingly unrolled. (See this for an interesting review.) It is deserving of a release beyond festivals.

While the credits were running for "Crude Independence," we hustled out of the theater - the Power and Light District's fabulous new AMC Mainstreet theatre, which doesn't officially open for another week but which I've been to twice already - and we hustled to midtown to The Writers Place to hear John Peterson, a writer at Hallmark, and Pat Daneman, a creative director at Hallmark, read their incredible, moving work. I do love to hear people read their work at The Writers Place. And I particularly enjoy it when it's people I know.

After the readings, there was mingling over refreshments (John had even made hummus and tapenade - as if writing and reading poetry weren't enough for one evening) and several of us were chitchatting about talented people at Hallmark. Pat said she had to muster up courage to come to work each day and work with such brilliant geniuses. Which I thought was a funny thing for her to say since I think she is one of them and it is I who feels daunted (but pleased) at the thought of having such talented co-workers.