A Heap O' Livin'

By: Guest blogger, Terry Staley

As I sit here contemplating what to write about I think, “Do I want to be witty and funny or do I want to be the intellectual thinker and write something profound and thought provoking?  I must do something really good to follow up on the previous blogs; they've all been so wonderful. I have age and experience on my side…surely I can come up with something great.”

And so I continue to think, but I also pick up a book of poems by Edger A. Guest that I found at a flea market. As I read, I find that he had captured a few things in prose that I feel in my heart, so I will share them with you. The first is a verse from the poem “House.”

House

It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home,

A heap o' sun and shadder, an' ye somethimes have t' roam

Afore ye really 'preciate the things ye left behind,

An hunger fer 'em somehow, with 'em allus on yer mind.

It don't make any differunce how rich ye get t' be,

How much yer chairs an' tables cost, how great yer luxury;
It ain't a home t' ye, though it be a palace of a king,

Until somehow yer soul is sort o' wrapped around everything.

I must say that I totally agree with Mr. Guest on that one. The second poem is called “The Gentle Gardner” and it truly speaks to me.

The Gentle Gardner

I'd like to leave but daffodills to mark my little way,

To leave but tulips red and white behind me as I stray;

I'd like to pass away from earth and feel I'd left behind

But roses and forget-me-nots for all who come to find.

I'd like to sow the barren spots with all the flowers of the earth,

And to leave a path where those who come should find but gentle mirth;
And when at last I'm called upon to join the havenly throng
I'd like to feel along the way I'd left no sign of wrong.

And yet the cares are many and the hours of toil are few;

There is not time on earth for all I'd like to do;
But, having lived and having toiled, I'd like the world to find
Some little touch of beauty that my soul had left behind.
***

What I'd like for you to take from this blog are a few things I have learned from age and experience:

1. No matter where you go, there's no place like home.

 2. You only have one life so don't waste it on trying to have the most "stuff;" get out and live it. Plant a garden, get your toes dirty and have fun.

3. Family is Love!

Last but not least, the thing that Tom lived the most:

4. Things don't get any better than "big food" and friends and family.

So there it is, for what it's worth, my advice for a heap o' livin'....Live, Love, Laugh and be true to yourself.

Terry Staley

Like a duck takes to water.

By: Guest blogger, Brandy Groce Pruitt
I’m ok with puke.  I can handle a little snot.  Even a bowel movement that doesn’t happen where it’s supposed to doesn’t evoke much gagging on my part.  (Please note: I can handle these things when and if they are produced by MY children: Vital information.)  These immensely useful skills have come from motherhood.    Ah, the things it will teach you. 

My son is 13 and my daughter is 3.  I’ve had some trials and tribulations controlling the bodily fluids of children.  And not just that, but I’ve experienced many tantrums in grocery store aisles, questions you don’t really know how to answer, sleepless nights, finicky eating habits, middle-of-the-night trips to the ER, and sleeping with tiny feet in my face.  It wasn’t exactly second-nature in the beginning; it took a little time to get accustomed to these things.  But I choose motherhood, and I welcomed every ugly detail.

My fiancé, on the other hand didn’t exactly choose fatherhood.  I mean, he did choose to date and subsequently marry me knowing I had children.  But I’m sure his list of life goals didn’t include “being married with children (that aren’t mine) at 26”.  And yet, he never showed the slightest hesitation in loving my children just as if it was in his life’s desire.

My daughter nicknamed him GeeGee (like Lee, but with a “g”) the first time she met him.  He is now referred to by this name at all times, and by all members of my family.  Using his given name is equivalent to your mother saying your full name when you have done something that appalls her.  I was skeptical that he would really stick around.  When he met me, he was 24 with no children: aka: a single mother’s definition of “out-of-my-league”.  But by some miracle, he is still with us and will marry me in September. 

Now, he is a lot of great things: sweet, loving, a sender-of-flowers; but the single most attractive thing about him is that he loves my kids.  I don’t mean that he tolerates them, rolls his eyes and grits his teeth at their silly requests…I mean he genuinely cares about them, despite all the weird experiences they have introduced him to.  This is just a short list of the ways that I know his lifestyle has changed since meeting us.

~He has gone to work with his toenails some beautiful shade of pink or purple safely hidden beneath steel-toe boots on at least two occasions.  Don’t tell him I told you all that!

~He has been forced to move, during mid-meal from the place he is sitting at the table of a restaurant while everyone stares at the tantrum-throwing child we have with us.  Lily likes to decide where everyone sits when she gets cranky.

~He has learned to ask lots and lots of questions about specifics he never knew mattered.  “What color cup do you want to drink milk from…the pink cup with the straw or the pink cup with the lid?” “How many marshmallows do you want in your bowl for snack” Because if you get it wrong, man does it cause a mess.

~He was quick to recognize and accept (maybe a bad word choice…more like deal with rather then accept) my children’s complete and total disregard for bathroom privacy.  There is no lock on our bathroom door and they fully intend to take advantage of that fact.  If they need you, the bathroom is no safe haven.  Dressed or not, they will enter and tell you just what they need.   

~He has spent countless hours watching Busy Town Mysteries, Barney and Friends, and WWE Smackdown and you would never know he wasn’t actually enjoying himself.

~He is instrumental at averting hormonal teenage rants.  And if you have never experienced any of these rants, just know that the fact that GeeGee helps keep them at bay sometimes is vital to my sanity. 

~He has stood by patiently while the family he loves grieved the very man he would “step-in” for.  He was there for us when no one in the world would have expected that he should be.  Always respectful and never judgmental, the manner in which he conducted himself and cared for us will forever astonish me. 

~He has been awoken in the night to wet sheets and a crying toddler who struggled with potty-training.

These may seem like small insignificant things that he has done, just all part of parenting a lot of people would say.  But for a man who has never before known what it was to give selflessly of his time to two tiny humans who desire his undivided love and attention, I know loving us has not come easy; but he sure made it seem that way.  Our GeeGee has taken to our wild and crazy life, one that is exactly opposite to what he was familiar with, like a duck to water.  And we are forever grateful that he likes to swim. 

True story this week:

When I was younger and dreamed of marrying Randy Travis (no judgment, please) the most terrifying issue facing me was that I didn’t know how to cook pinto beans.  Never mind the fact that I have no recollection of ever uttering the words “I’d really like to have a nice pot of pinto beans for supper”...it none-the-less bothered my tiny 8-year-old soul that I wouldn’t be able to fix something that seemed a staple food and thus couldn’t be found in a cookbook, at least none of my Grandma’s anyway.  Maybe it was because I knew Randy would like to have beans and cornbread after coming home from a hard day of singing, maybe it was because I knew my daddy thought pinto beans was the finishing touch to any meal served after 9am, or maybe I knew there was always that possibility that I’d fall for a boot-wearing country boy who would like his woman domesticated.  Whatever the reason, I was genuinely concerned about cooking pinto beans.  And yet, I have eluded this bean dilemma for nearly 30 years.  But my husband-to-be is one of those country boys who cooks with lard and eats beans and cornbread…looks like it’s time to learn how to cook pinto beans.     

Treat yo' self.

By: Guest blogger, Danielle Dodson

I guess I should start by saying that my name is Danielle and I’m not great at cooking, but I am great at impulse buying groceries. I’ll be walking down a grocery aisle to buy pasta sauce when I suddenly see coconut curry sauce on the shelf and stop dead in my tracks to think of all the things I could make with it. I’ve actually had concerned strangers ask me if I’m lost in the grocery because I get so wrapped up in these little reveries. Anyway, a few weeks ago, I found myself in a Trader Joes after trying to eat healthier. Day 1 of healthy eating had involved scrambled egg whites for breakfast, hummus, veggies and a fruit salad for lunch, and a giant bowl of salad for dinner. So far, so good…until about 8pm. I became ravenous. I’m just going to say it: salad really is the worst. Actual healthy salad is mostly just lettuce, and no one will ever persuade me that lettuce qualifies as satisfying food. So, that night I found myself wandering into the ice cream aisle. The coffee ice cream beckoned to me…and I impulse bought it.  

For the next few hours, I kept trying to resist, but I could feel the ice cream dragging me towards the freezer with some sort of magical force. Pulling the ice cream out of the fridge, I dipped a spoon into the carton. As the spoon collected a little ball of creamy goodness, I couldn’t wait to drop the scoop into my bowl and instead put it straight into my mouth.  However, the freezer was much colder than I realized, and my spoon stuck fast to my lip. In that split second, I had an important decision to make: I could wait for the spoon to warm up in my mouth, or I could just pull the spoon from my lip and see what happened. This would also be a good time to mention that I hate A Christmas Story (I’m a Christmas Vacation kind of girl) but the film did teach me what happens when someone puts his or her tongue against frozen metal. I never imagined that kind of thing actually happening in one’s kitchen, so I ripped the spoon off.

BLOOD EVERYWHERE. Gushing. Seriously. I went through tissue after tissue. I just sat there feeling like a complete idiot. How could I have injured myself by eating ice cream? A welt had actually formed on my lip. I live on my own, I’m in what seems like my millionth year of grad school, and I sometimes feel like a helpless little kid whose outside grows older while the inside stays just as clueless. Eating healthier felt like something that would make me more mature and grown up, but I couldn’t even do that right. How could I have been so impulsive and stupid? My darkest thought came as I put the ice cream back in the freezer: “my lip hurts, but I still really want this ice cream” (I ate some again – more cautiously this time – after my lip stopped bleeding). *Just fyi: Danielle did tell me that I could exclude the picture if it grossed me out.;)

Then, I just started laughing.

I realized in that moment I’m always going to be the kind of person that needs to have a treat. Honestly, we all are. In the words of Donna from Parks and Rec, sometimes you have to “treat yo’self” (see the video below. They have a Treat Yo Self day, but I think it works for everyday).  I think we all know that we should treat ourselves, but it’s so easy to let guilt (about nearly anything) make us forget that. Life is short, and one of the things I admire in Liza is that she really takes time to photograph and share and cook things that make life better and more beautiful. So, I’m trying to be more balanced in my life - and healthy eating is a part of that - but if I want ice cream now and then, I get it. I know the case could be made from this story that treating myself to ice cream is actually a very bad idea, but the truth is that feeling like I was limiting myself that day actually made me more impulsive. If I’d taken some of the pressure off myself about my lifestyle, I probably wouldn’t have ended up with a spoon full of lip flesh on my counter (sorry, that’s probably not a great mental image).

I also realized that you have to be able to laugh at yourself every now and then, because sometimes stuff is just funny  - even if it does cause lip pain. I think that’s part of treating yo’self – if you can turn some of the little things that frustrate or embarrass you into something you can smile at or at least feel better about by telling other people, they don’t seem as bad.

In the spirit of Treat Yo Self, here a couple of things that make my day better: 1. The Treat Yo Self video. 2. A picture of Kate Middleton’s baby bump (I study British history so I pretend that looking at pictures of her is work). So, go treat yo’self today. You deserve it. *(This is a lesson I’m still learning to perfect. Case in point: yesterday I treated myself to donuts about 20 minutes before going to the gym: disastrous results).

Elvadine, what’s you gots to write about?

By: Guest blogger, Brandy Groce Pruitt
I am the type of person who loses themselves in a book.  I am the person who wants to finish “just one more chapter” before turning in for the night even though I am struggling to stay awake. The person who subsequently wakes up at three in the morning, drooling on the pages of said book.  When I read a good book, I feel some sort of odd connection to the characters, a connection that lingers with me long after I’ve finished reading.  I find myself contemplating their lives after the happenings in the book, and sometimes even what their lives were like before I met them. 

And as much as I enjoy and love this pass-the-time hobby of mine, it has not always been the case.  It shames me to admit that I would actually avoid many of the reading assignments during school.  I would (GASP!) result to watching the movie after choking down two chapters and hope that my BFF would fill me in on how it differed from the book so that I could pass the exam.  Oh, forgive me English and Literature teachers of the world.  If it is any consolation, I have now read-and quite enjoyed- To Kill a Mockingbird, The Scarlet Letter, and The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.  I even tackled Gone With the Wind, even if I did stretch it out over the span of two summers and had to start over several times due to information overload.  Oh, and if that doesn’t redeem me, I sometimes find myself honestly longing for those vocabulary books that I would have classified as cruel and unusual punishment in high school. 

My growing love of reading stemmed from many things.  First, I felt a desire and obligation as a parent to have intelligent and insightful conversations about literary works with my son and not appear completely unsophisticated.  Secondly, my guilty conscience got the better of me for scraping by all those years of high school without finishing the book. (Clarification: I did actually finish some books.  I didn’t skimp on every one of them.)  And the biggest contributing factor was a life that was falling apart. 

I have experienced a life that, at times, has overwhelmed and nearly broken me.  There have been times that my heart, soul, and body were in turmoil.  I have stayed sometimes when I should have gone; gone sometimes when I wished I would have stayed.  In rebellion, I’ve hurt people that I truly cherish, done things I pray every night my children never ask me about, and had my feelings crushed so often I wasn’t even sure I still knew how to feel hurt, sadness, or disappointment.

Books became an escape, a therapy technique that I unknowingly devised for myself.  I would read to stop thinking.  I would read so that I wouldn’t worry.  I would read to not fall apart.  Because, well…falling apart just isn’t really an option.

Life gets a little messy and hectic sometimes.  I am happy that I found a healthy release, something that lets me forget how stressful the day/week/month has been.  I hope everyone is able to find something that makes the strains of life bearable.  And if having a library card in three counties just so happens to support your stress relief, you are in good company with me. 

“It is what you read when you don't have to that determines what you will be when you can't help it.” ― Oscar Wilde

We aren’t just a bunch of bookworms at my house; we speak fluent in movie quotes too! 

Here are just a few little gems that lend themselves into our lives on a regular basis:

“It’s so FLUFFY!”-Despicable Me
If you love it, can’t live without it, need it in your life…it is “fluffy.”  Example: Bacon.  It’s so fluffy.

 “My pinky promises.”-Despicable Me (Seriously, watch this movie!)

 If your pinky can’t promise, well then…you are a liar.

“One time, at band camp…”-American Pie
If you have never used this line, I’m seriously concerned about you. 

“Ice cream…Lieutenant Dan, ice cream!!”-Forrest Gump
No one at my house asks for, mentions, or even thinks of ice cream without channeling Forrest Gump. 

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”-Steel Magnolias
Ok, so I’m truly the only one in my house who has seen this movie or uses this line.  You ladies know what I’m talking about though.

“SQUIRREL!!!”- Up
Every time we see one on the road or someone loses focus of the conversation, which happens a lot to us, we remember good ole Doug the dog.

Pretty much everything Dory says in Finding Nemo can fit into daily conversation, wouldn’t you agree? I know finding P.Sherman 42 Wallaby Way Sydney is top on my bucket list. 

A community is its people.

By: Guest blogger, Renee Kelley
I woke up to a nice surprise this morning. The Sun!!  We had an extremely rainy & cool weekend here in Burkesville. It is amazing what a bright sunny morning can do to get you in the mood. In the mood for what you ask? Anything your heart desires but for me today it is writing a blog post.

Thank you Liza for inviting me to guest blog on your blog! I find it an honor.

Well this week I am reaching a milestone in my life. You know the one. The big 40!! I have heard stories about this illusive old age for years. You know everyone ages and inevitably people in your life will turn 40.You know the birthday party that you get the old walking cane with bells & horns and the party décor is all black & silver. Sort of like the end of time. I remember Mom’s & yes I truly did think she was old. Now I realize that was all wrong. It is not old at all. It is just the beginning for many things in one’s life and for me.

I am starting a new journey in life. I am walking an unknown path to my future. I am a newly divorced Mother who is embarking on a journey of epic proportions. That is what it felt like in the beginning BUT now it feels like I have a new chance at a wonderful life. I am reenrolling in college & throwing myself into life 100%. To make this happen, I felt it necessary to move back to my hometown. I have had a hard time leaving Burkesville behind over the years. I often wondered why that was but after moving back home last month I have been reminded over & over each day what that reason was. All I knew was that Burkesville was drawing the kids & I home.

The reason is the people. The people I grew up around & the people who has been planted here within our community to grow & intertwine with us to make us who & what we are. Burkesville Kentucky is truly a community to be proud of.

In times of heartache in our community there are always the troops who align to make sure the hurting find comfort, the hungry get fed & those without resources they need in the time of emergency are met. No matter how great! Those are the doers, and Burkesville is full of them. Doing makes you feel compassion for someone else. It makes you feel a purpose greater than yourself. It may make you get your hands dirty but it will not kill ya! I promise your life will never be the same. It brings us out of our shells, makes us socialize & communicate with a human instead of a computer or phone. It is truly gratifying. It makes us better people. More important than that doing for someone else makes someone else’s life a little better.

This week, I challenge you to do something selfless. Do something for someone that you know they cannot repay you for. I am not a goody too shoes good doer. I am a simple country girl who realizes what a doer can do for a community. We have so many here. They are amazing & beautiful without even knowing it. They are the people who always have a smile for you when many times they cannot even find one for themselves.

You see within this community is the places where I can put my heart in soul into because well… so many here have put their heart & soul into me over the years. I am so proud to be home & proud to call Burkesville Kentucky my home. I look forward to summer here in the Ville with the Farmer’s Market being one of my first stops each Saturday morning. Go out and be selfless see how it feels. Oh & tell no one. If they want everyone else to know they will tell them.

Until Next Time,
Renee Kelley

The last bit of nonsense you'll have to hear from me for a while...

Inspired by Cheryl Strayed's, Wild, and in honor of my Dad who was at every track meet from my 7th grade to my Senior year - standing at the 300 yard mark pushing me, in the voice I could recognize in any high school gym or on any track, to the finish line via unjustifiably proud claps and words of hilarity or encouragement  - and who died November 5, 2010, I ran the Bowling Green marathon last November 4. I was motivated. It meant something to me. I was proud.

The Kentucky Derby Festival Marathon last weekend? Well...I'm glad I did it. I'm glad I got to spend a weekend in Louisville with my beautiful, spirited niece who finds more joy in escalators and jumping on the bed than most of us choose to find in anything.  I'm glad I ordered exactly what I wanted at Jeff Ruby's (playboy sushi roll, filet, green beans, and loaded mashed potatoes). Nevertheless, it really isn't something that I want to make a big deal over. In fact, what I will remember most about the weekend has very little to do with how I felt upon crossing the finish line and more so with how awesome it was to see, hear, and feel the community spirit of Louisville. I submitted the paragraphs below to the Courier Journal, but I have no idea if it will get printed.  I thought I would share here as well...

City of Louisville,

You know, I always knew I liked you better than Lexington. Despite living in a rural, southern Kentucky town where UK basketball dominates conversation (and...well, basically, daily existence for many) for much of the year, if given the choice, I would certainly travel northward on I65 rather than I75 on any given day.  There is an authenticity to Churchill, and the crowd that frequents it, that Keeneland will never have. Staff at restaurants, hotels, and shops consistently seem friendlier and more helpful in your city, the one my southern inflection will always pronounce as "Lulvul." Your downtown is a beautiful mix of historic architecture, modern art, green space, and eclectic shops. 

And, this past weekend, my affinity for all things Louisville was only magnified. Despite swearing off marathons after completing my first last November, my competitive desire to match my local running buddies inspired me to sign up for the Derby festival race this year.  If you haven't run 26.2 miles before, let me tell you, it isn't a whole load of fun.  Sense of pride and accomplishment? Sure. Fun? No. One of the primary things that kept me going, however, was the friendly faces, hilarious signs, ringing cowbells, Gatorades and orange slices being handed out from front yards, high school bands and random strangers with stereos playing things like "Sweet Caroline," high-fives from college kids likely drunk at 9:00 am, and cheering words of encouragement from people who love their town and love the Derby festivities.  You all literally kept a lot of us going.  So, on this Monday morning, I offer a sincere "thank you" from the grateful heart and sore legs of this marathon finisher and Louisville admirer.

***

I love my crock pot. True story.

From Good Housekeeping's, Fast Weeknight Favorites cookbook
Slow-Cooker Latin Chicken with Black Beans and Sweet Potatoes

As called for by the recipe:



3 lbs. bone-in chicken thighs, skin removed
2 tsp. ground cumin
1/4 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
1  tsp. smoked paprika or 1/2 tsp. chopped chipotle in adobo sauce
1/2 tsp. ground allspice
1 c. reduced-sodium chicken broth
1/2 c. salsa
3 large garlic cloves, crushed
2 cans black beans, rinsed and drained
2 lbs. sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into 2" pieces
1 roasted red pepper, cut into strips (approx. 1 cup)
1/3 c. loosely packed fresh cilantro leaves, chopped lime wedges

Sprinkle chicken thighs with 1/2 tsp. cumin, salt, and pepper.  Heat 12" nonstick skillet over medium heat until hot.  Add chicken and cook until well browned on all sides. Transfer chicken to plate. In same skillet, combine smoked paprika, allspice, broth, salsa, garlic and remaining 1 1/2 tsp. cumin. In 6-quart slow cooker, combine beans and sweet potatoes. Arrange chicken thighs in single layer on top. Pour broth mixture over chicken. Cover slow cooker and cook 8 hours on low or 4 hours on high. With slotted spoon, transfer chicken to serving platter. Spoon the rest of the mixture over chicken, sprinkle with cilantro, and serve with lime wedges.

My modifications...
*I cut the recipe in half.
*I used thinly sliced chicken breasts instead of thighs.
*I used regular paprika rather than smoked and nutmeg/cinnamon/cloves instead of allspice.
*I did not peel my sweet potatoes.
*I didn't have fresh cilantro (although this would have been delicious) so I just sprinkled an herb mix over the top.
*I browned nothing in a skillet. I put this all in the crock pot before work, flipped it to low, and in about 5 hours it was ready. 

Trust me, the picture doesn't do it justice.  This is a keeper.  Try it.

***

I love that even in our tiny, rural town, there are such neat things to get into if one chooses to look.  For example, how many of the surrounding cities have an art studio on the square where people can go check out a local artist's amazing work and take a portrait, landscape, still-life or charcoal class themselves?

 

Thank you, Billy Guffey, from this tightly-wound librarian who needs to hear "It's just paint on canvas. Go for it." fairly regularly.  You are a gem in this community.

 

Work in progress...





Picture taken in Salzburg, Austria - May, 2011

Decided I wanted to make it more abstract

***

Get excited....amazing guest bloggers over the next two weeks on Pillow Book!:)

 

Off to Chicago for the weekend!

"I'm happy enough."

Sometimes I have to remind myself that no one has their shit together the way I think they do.
...
The other day I had a bit of a breakdown.  In the middle of a perfectly unemotional, run-of-the-mill conversation, I suddenly began to unload a whole host of insecurities at the doorstep of a trusted friendship.  You name it, I probably worked it into my babble; things such as:
-"I just want to feel like I'm making the 'right' decisions. I just want things to feel 'right.'"
-"I want to feel confident in my choices, no matter how seemingly insignificant they are."
-"I am almost 33 and don't have children."
-"I'm scared I'm too jaded to be able to really love and too much of a wanderer to accept real devotion."
-"I don't know why I feel the way I feel."
-"I'm worried I'll never be happy with myself."
-"I want to be 'settled,' but I don't want to settle."
-"Other people seem so content with their lives as they are. I want that, but I don't want to be bored."
-"I have no idea what is going to make me truly happy." (See title)
-"What is most frustrating is that I think I have the courage to make tough decisions if I only knew what the hell I was supposed to do. The thing is, I just don't know."

His response? (paraphrased)...
"Do you know how many people think you are the happiest person alive?  If they hear you talk or see your Facebook stuff, they would never guess you worry about any of this. And in that line of reasoning, you're probably giving other people far too much credit as well.  No one knows the answers to this stuff. Well, not really at least. If they do, they've probably just taken a safe path - the one someone else likely set out for them -and haven't taken the time to question.  It's okay to not have the answers.  Hoping for some clear-cut direction will only lead to disappointment.  Just live your life."

I think that's probably pretty good advice.

And I offer this, not to put my cynicism and self-absorption on display, but to remind you that we all experience doubt and confusion; that we are all seeking something intangible that we will likely fumble over when trying to describe; that we are all screwed up in our own ways.  And while I refuse to use these insecurities as steeping stones to some gilded, touchy-feely "it takes the dark to see the light" reassurances, I will say that simply knowing no one else has themselves figured out anymore than I do, is comforting.  So, thank you all, for being equally messed up.;)
***
If any of you have ever considered or "seen" me the way I describe above, keep in mind that a friend posted this on my Facebook wall not too long ago. ...and that it isn't entirely outlandish.

***
Sometimes others' perceptions ARE, however, more keen than our own self-image...

***
Southern Peach Pork Chops (Except I didn't use peaches...)
From Good Housekeeping's, "Fast Weeknight Favorites" Cookbook

1 tbsp. curry powder
1 tbsp. brown sugar
1 tbsp. olive oil
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
Pinch of ground black pepper
1 garlic clove, crushed
4 bone-in pork chops
4 large peaches, each cut in half and pitted (did not have any)
1/2 c. peach or apricot jam or preserves (I only had grape)

In a cup, stir first 7 ingredients with a fork until blended.  Rub on both sides of the pork chops. If using fruit, brush cut side of each peach half and one side of chops with some jam. Place peaches, jam side down, and chops, jam side up, on grill over medium heat.  Grill 5 minutes.  Turn chops and peaches. Brush grilled side of chops with jam and grill 5 minutes longer.  Transfer peaches to serving platter as they are browned.  Cook pork chops 4-5 minutes more and transfer to serving platter.