Nick Norwood

This is a work in progress inspired one of my friends I work with and jazz..... so here it goes

There he stood behind the counter in his red apron. A lanky silhouette of a fellow almost always in the background and almost always singing songs in his head. The coffee timers and frothing milk, noises that daily surrounded him, were not the beats for which he cared. The snapping of his fingers and taps of his feet came only from the rhythms he played in his head. Silent to the world around him but melodic to his soul. He had once traveled to Paris disguised as an Au Pair but secretly studied the music on the streets after tucking little Harry into bed. He wandered aimlessly searching for a beat he had never heard nor would recognize. But four months later he found himself back in the states behind a coffee shop counter still searching for his song.

Just some fun pics I like

On the outside looking in

Tonight was different. For once I wasn’t tired, I didn’t need to wake up early and with the mention from some people of an old family friend I decided to put off going to bed a little longer. They had mentioned Craig Turner and volleyball. I have known Craig for at least 17 years now and when strangers mention his name it still seems weird to me. He was playing an intramural game that I thought I’d check out. I arrived on campus only to find myself three years removed from it and hopelessly staring into what used to be my life. I stood outside the gym window and stared at the carefree , fun loving college students unable to go inside. I was paralyzed, envious of their relationships with one another longing to be a part of it all once again. But the sign in front of the gym made it all clear,  “Upon entering the facility no ID no admittance no exceptions.” They had blocked me out. I felt outcasted, trapped in the world outside while everyone inside seemed happy and carefree. Even if it was for a moment. Four years I had spent at this school only to find myself three years later disconnected and locked out. I couldn’t get in so I decided to walk around. I walked up and down the sidewalks hoping to find a someone, anyone who I might know but who was I kidding. I hadn’ t stepped foot on that campus in a year and a half - who would I know? I remembered what it was like to have lots of friends, game nights, movie nights and long conversations. I remembered laughter and bike nights and sleeping outside then I remembered there was no one here to remember it with me.Was I really that old - surely not. I had tried to blend in with my college sweatshirt and blue jeans but could they see through my disguise? Did they think  “She’s not one of us” ? But yet deep inside I longed to be one of them.  Now I wait for Decembers when my college buddies come back for christmas vacation. What happens when they hand you that dipolma... have a nice life but know that it will never be the same. I just spent a half an hour on the phone with an old friend she was emotionally worn out, finances, marriage life, and new locations had worn her down and now she wonders if life will get any better. Is that really what happens to us after college? Or do we just we find ourselves standing outside that gym window watching life pass up by wishing we could go back to how it used to be only to find it can never be that way again. Maybe, maybe not. I say be content in the good gifts God has given you now in the present and trust that in his wisdom He will provide for your future. Tonight was a realization that things are changing and that though things are different it’s not necessarily bad. I am happy, I am thankful that I had a good college experience and that I still talk to my friends, I am excited to my see what my future holds and I will rejoice that my God is good no matter what the circumstance. 

Friends

So, maybe I should have entitled this blog as a breath of fresh air because that is what old friends bring. I had an amazing opportunity to spend some quality time with some friends that I grew up with this past weekend. I was able to stay with my friend Laura Daspit, a girl I hadn't talked to or seen in a year but can talk to like not a minute was spared since the last time we saw each other. Laura is one of my favorite people and it always astonishes me that we can skip all the superficial stuff and go straight to the heart of what is going on in our lives. She and I are in similar living situations right now and it was so good to just be able to talk about life with her. I learned from her that the people of New Orleans are emotionally worn out and the church is so focused on outreach that they have forgotten what it's like to build themselves inwardly. I learned that it would be easier to see ourselves as if we were characters in a book and could see the big picture and I learned that God is continually working and wants to use us in his work. I came back from my trip feeling refreshed and I truly think it was because I was able to be with old friends for a few days. I guess what I'm trying to say is that life is hard, routine is inevitable but God called us to live life together and I found that companionship in my old friends. What a breath of fresh air it is to be with friends who love you unconditionally and spur you closer to Christ!

Here is a funny little story -- so I was walking down St. Charles Ave when I found this note attached to a futon -- it reads "Dear Futon Owner, thank you for this futon. We sat on it and ate some ice cream and have grown quite fond of it. If you are sitting it out on the curb because you don't want it anymore we can take it off your hands. Please call us at 606 - 389 -0259 and we'll come pick it up. If, however, you do still want it, than thank you for letting us use it. Love, Nicole, Evian, and Tara."

I just thought it was funny that I was walking down the street and saw this futon on the curb with such a personal not attached to it. Kind of makes me want to meet the ones who wrote it.

 

A Breath of Fresh Air

I had the opportunity to travel to my homeland of New Orleans, Louisiana this weekend. With too many plans and not enough time I found myself welcomed into my city by flooding rains and lots of traffic. Ahh, back where I belong. Growing up I never thought it "cool" that I was from New Orleans. Wasn't every other city like this except maybe with less trash on the ground? Didn't everyone hear ferry boat horns before going to bed, and use box fans to cool their rooms? Surely everyone did. Going to college in another city in Louisiana brought culture shock as I realized no other place in America, or maybe even the world was like this place I called home. Now, I find myself missing the different accents from people on the streets, talking to neighbors, and hearing jazz breeze by on the riverwalk. With a very valiant yet futile attempt to present myself as a local I hit the streets with a confident stride and a big camera around my neck. I think it was the camera that fooled people. I think people were actually disappointed when my answer to their "Where are you from ?" question just revealed Algiers. Oh, she is one of us -- well, tell ya mom 'n them we said hi. It wasn't until I was removed from this city that I actually missed it. It was the parks uptown, the neighbors practicing their sax for Mardi Gras parades on the front porch, and the man talking, in a local TJMax, about how he can make a gumbo with 11 different ingredients that would knock your socks off that brought back the love I have for this place. It is as if once you've lived here the place leaves this impression on you. It's in your blood and the city has somehow shaped who you are as a person. I realized that just maybe the reason why I'm a talker, sarcastic and a people person is because I'm from New Orleans. I may not always live there but it will always be a part of me. 

Creativity

Some have said that I can paint pictures with my words. Some have said that I am a creative girl. But what happens to that creative girl when her creativeness goes away? What happens when she feels as though all her creative ideas just take second place to those who are actually good at what they do and what happens when she feels like she's just copying off of someone else? Well, she keeps on creating because just maybe in the midst of it all something great will come out of it. Lately I feel as though I am just copying off of someone else's great ideas. I wonder why I couldn't have thought of it before and I wonder why I long to create only to find myself frustrated that really I'm not good at it. Maybe the reality is that I have so many other friends that are so talented in the arts, such as photography, sewing, and writing that I feel I don't rank. Not that life is about ranking but none-the-less the feeling is still there. The truth is I truly do want to blog but find myself empty of words. I think all I need is a teacher to help me perfect my potential but who will teach me? Well confidence or no confidence I will continue to create and in the process of it all hope to find a diamond in the rough. 

Meatballs

My first attempt ever at making meatballs and it was a success! I mean molding meat into little balls and providing just the right spice is not the easiest thing to do - but I mastered it and on my first try too! Just kidding making meatballs is pretty dang easy - here is what I did.

 Ingredients

1 lb of ground beef

1/2 cup of Italian bread crumbs

1 egg

1 tbsp of worcestershire sauce

2 tsp of kosher salt

1/2 tsp of seasoned pepper

1/2 tsp of garlic powder

1/2 tsp of onion powder

1/4 cup parsley

olive oil for sauteing 

Directions

1. In a medium - large bowl combine beef, egg, bread crumbs, salt, pepper, garlic and onion powder, parsley and worcestershire sauce. Mix ingredients enough to combine them but don't over mix them. 

2. Using a meatball roller or your hands roll the mixture into balls.  Make sure to roll them enough to keep the mixture together not fall apart.

3. In a skillet heat the oil at a medium temperature. Carefully add the meatballs and let them brown on each side. Remove from the skillet and place on paper towels to collect excess oil.

If using in spaghetti let add the meatballs into the sauce and let them heat with the sauce for about 20 minutes. Then serve. 

When making spaghetti and meatballs I favor angel hair pasta but it's up to you which noodle to use. 

Making meatballs takes patience and if you don't want to stand in front of the stove you can place them in the oven to cook. 

Norsworthy Delight (Peachberry cookies)

Ruston is known for it's blueberries and peaches. I went blueberry picking with my mom last weekend and with an overabundance of blueberries I thought - now what? Every morning I would put the tiny blueberries in my life cereal for breakfast but I wanted more from my tasty berries. My friend Clint Norsworthy loved when I made fruit pizza and so I thought of a modified version that included just blueberries and peaches. So, in honor of Clint I named this treat after him. And it was a hit. 

 Ingredients 

1 (18 ounce ) package of refrigerated sugar cookie dough

1 (8 ounce) package of softened cream cheese

1 (8 ounce) container of frozen whipped topping , thawed ( i used a light version of whip cream)

2 containers of blueberries

3 peaches (depending on size - mine were kind of small)

   cookie cutters (whatever shape you want - I used a circle)

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Use the cookie cutter and cut your dough in the desired shapes and place on a greased cookie sheet. Bake for 10 - 12 minutes. Allow to cool.

2. In a large bowl, soften cream cheese, then fold in the whip cream. Spread over cooled crust. Arrange fruit on each cookie ( in any what you want ). 

3. Chill for two hours, then serve. 

It's a simple way to make a light summer treat and delicious too! 

Aye Shawty, let me holla at ya.

So here I am on my eleven hour drive from  South Carolina to Louisiana flipping through radio station after radio station in a quest to find songs that I can belt out the lyrics and keep me awake. The scan button only led me to slow sappy love songs and unfamiliar tunes. In defeat I decided to stick with rap. Why rap? because it's better than country. Besides it let me bounce to the beat. Growing up in New Orleans may have seasoned me to tolerate this music genre but what I was unprepared for was my lack of knowledge of new ebonic slang. In high school I was always up to date on words like "trippin", "sneak ya", and "frontin" and even had to translate for some people. Yes, this little white girl knew her som' ghetto. The term "shawty" was in no short supply when it came to the rap songs I listened to. "Shawty" had apple bottom jeans in one song, "shawty" is holla - ed at in another, and gets bought drinks in another. I thought who was this infamous "shawty" and how did they end up in a bunch of rap songs?  So when I got home it was time to brush up on my missed years of ebonics. Gone are the days of "my boo" and the dawn of a new era in which girls are referred to as "shawty" is now here. According to the urban dictionary "Shawty" or in plain uncultured terms "shorty" is a term that originated in Atlanta. It is used to refer to a girlfriend, attractive girl, or a fine ass woman. A term of endearment - need I say more? So, with my quest complete and my intelligence slightly heightened from my new found knowledge I felt more adequately prepared to remain a part of the urban world. Next time you see a pretty girl - why don't you holla at det shawty. 

Back Home

I am now back in good old Louisiana after spending 10 months in Columbia, SC. Mosquitoes, humidity and my goofy family all welcomed me back to this state making me feel like I never left. Speaking of family there are a few things you should know about mine.

 1. We watch movies on TV that we have on video but instead of putting in the video we watch the one on TV with commercials.

 2. As tradition goes, any time one of us kids leaves for vacation, camp or whatever mom and dad change something in the house such as rearranging the furniture, switch up bedrooms or in the case of today I came home to the bathroom walls painted in a Tiffany blue. That's right Tiffany as in the jewelry company. When the door is left open it gives off a nice green Ora in the hallway. 

3. We are loud, goofy and interrupt each other when we tell stories.

4. We buy gifts for the whole family to play together such as dance dance revolution, a karaoke machine, and now we have a Wii - let the fun begin or let the arguing begin about how someone's mii doesn't really look them. 

Welcome Home