Bread and Wine: Farmer's Market Potato Salad

Nothing shouts "summertime!" like burgers and potato salad on a paper plate, so naturally that's what we had in the middle of winter. This recipe reminded me of sauntering around some family get-together when it's too hot outside, the kids are playing in the sprinkler, and the adults are drinking more sweet tea and eating from some heavily-laden table of homemade things.

I miss summer so much.

I won't pretend that this is the prettiest recipe I've yet made, nor even my favorite. But the bite of summertime and the meditation that went with the recipe were something I needed this particularly week of February-- a reminder of the value of showing up, being present, no matter what the shame-maker voices say.

Let's eat.

The Recipe: Farmer's Market Potato Salad
Ingredients: red and gold potatoes, Kalamata olives, grape tomatoes, hardboiled eggs, radishes, green beans, fresh basil, fresh dill, Dijon, balsamic vinegar, live oil, salt and pepper

Typing it out, this list seems innocent enough, but by the time I got around to boiling the eggs and blanching the green beans, I felt like swearing off any recipe with over five ingredients. My mother's heart can't take it in between afternoon snacks, children who won't nap as long as they *should* and a ticking clock of needs to be accomplished before Daddy gets home for supper. I mean, I was fine, but this recipe isn't exactly a "dump" crock pot recipe, if you know what I mean.

This is essentially a vinegar potato salad. I tend to like mayonnaise-y ones, but it's hard to go wrong with the swath of flavors drenched in balsamic vinegar. Essentially you could make the vinaigrette dressing that Shauna has used a hundred times elsewhere in the book and pour it over the rest of the fresh ingredients. It's really simple once you get a handle on measuring, washing, and chopping so many vegetables, but it does take some time to assemble. And prepare to have lots of pots...and bowls...and cutting boards laying around for this one (or maybe that just me).

As I said, it's tasty, buuuut I think in my book vinaigrette and Kalamata olives belong on pasta. Or Couscous. Or something not potatoes. My husband winced and turned this recipe down in the name of its being too-potato-y (there's honesty for you), but I'm still munching on it in the name of its being there in the refrigerator, its tasting very nice like summertime, and all the moral superiority of its vegetable-ness. I mean, there are radishes in there, people. It's practically like eating your daily requirements of vegetables in one sitting, and that's not nothing.

The Chapter: "Swimsuit, Ready or Not"

Talk about a timely message in the middle of winter. I'm not exactly planning my tankini body yet, but I have plenty of other inhibitions to work through.

Shauna writes about summertime and the feelings of shame and anxiety that accompany the mother of all shame-makers: the bathing suit.

"I spend a good portion of the summer at the lake, wearing a swimsuit from morning till night," she writes. "I love being at the lake, of course, but at the beginning of every summer I have to do a little internal business, organizing my thoughts and feelings and phobias, and getting myself ready to let everyone I know see me in a piece of clothing that could fit into a sandwich bag."

Oh gosh, it's true. Nothing like baring skin to make you feel inadequate in front of other people.

And yet,  if we listen closely to ourselves, it's worth asking, "Why?"

Shauna continues, "Bu as my friend Sara always reminds me, no one's actually thinking about me as often as I think they are. […]Probably they're thinking about their own lives or current events or any number of things that have nothing to do with my chins."

I always love this type of reminder, the whole "no one's thinking about you as much as you are" thing. I have chronic paranoia about people noticing me, and it used to be worse when I thought everyone was watching me. Now I know they might be, but chances are they're not noticing the things I am--both the good and the bad!

This is s a good word for so many areas of life, beyond just body stuff. For years I've struggled to put out much of my own writing or creative work just because, well, I felt like a fat girl in a bikini--too much, too unformed, too ashamed next to the dozens of tight and toned models I saw around me. Like Shauna, I have been "my own watchdog group too long."

She goes on to explain what shame does--forcing us to be sorry for taking up space when we "don't deserve" it. "Shame tells us that we're wrong for having the audacity to be happy when were' so clearly terrible. Shame wants us to be deeply apologetic for just daring to exist."

Have you felt that? Have you felt the need to apologize for showing up? For just even having the audacity to think, or say, or do something that's all you? Oh man, I have.

I'm learning that, yes, often what I feel is shame about my work or worth in comparison to others, so I don't show up because someone else has done it better. I am, in fact, sure someone else has done it better. If we're talking about looks, yes, indeed, so many people look better.

But the fact is, they're there. You might as well join in as well.

I remember reading Elizabeth Gilbert's Big Magic and how she talks about this in terms of art. Yes, in fact, the world does not precisely need you. You are quite right, there are lots of people out and about doing great things. The earth, the universe doesn't really NEED you.

But, she says, it would LIKE you.

This is a stance of abundance versus scarcity. This is operating and viewing the world in love rather than utility. This is about enjoyment rather than judgement.

This idea has fueled me tremendously over the past few years, freeing me to bring my bumpy self in front of others to try and do and experiment. Sometimes it has gone well. Others not. But that's the game, that's how it is--we do and we try and we experiment with God's help. The results, and people's perceptions of us, are quite out of our control.

I'm learning this more every day. And maybe a lumpy potato salad isn't such a bad metaphor for how delicious and wonderful things come in unpretty packages, or why it can be so nice to show up even if appearances are not great.

Oh, shame, you keep us from so much joy and fun.

I like Shauna's invitation instead:

"I'm going to live in the body God made me, not because it's perfect but because it's mine. And I'm going to be thankful for health and for the ability to run and move and dance and swim."

...and to do so many things, because we can. That's the thing, that's the game. It's our gift.