Many years ago—geez, I’m old enough to write that?—I worked with another occupational therapist who once commented, “Joanna, you have a story about everything!” She was right; I still do, but isn’t that what makes me a writer?

So it goes that I have a story about my absolute favorite chicken recipe, this amazingly simple, incredibly delicious, very elegant dish; perfect for special occasions yet easy enough to make during the week and even better the next day! Feel free to make ahead, store in a covered glass baking dish and reheat before company comes!

When I was a girl I lived down the block from a family-owned Italian butcher/grocer/deli. As soon as I was old enough to cross the street, my mom had me there almost daily, picking up little things she needed. Sometimes, she’d send me without money and I’d sign a receipt; she’d pay for those items on Saturday, when she made her weekly visits and bought our meats for the following week. Three brothers owned that store, and over the years, I’d established a pretty decent rapport with at least two of them.

By the time I was in my late teens/early twenties, the owners offered a hot deli bar. One of the brothers gave me a sample of this to-die-for-chicken breast made with rosemary and wine, so I asked for the recipe. He got really annoyed when I pushed for it, told me he paid to have it, and that I had no business asking. Good thing the little Italian lady who did the cooking motioned to me when said owner wasn’t looking or I would have ended up in a rather caustic exchange of words. She slipped me her phone number and gave me the recipe on the sly.

Long story short: I must have written that recipe down on two pieces of paper because at some point, I had only a list of ingredients and no directions on how to put them together. I even tried flubbing it a few times, but the dish never tasted the same as when Angelina (not her real name) made it. Of course, I’d lost her phone number too.

Somewhere between five and ten years ago, I was sitting in my doctor’s waiting room, waiting for a routine physical. An elderly woman and developmentally disabled man entered together. After a while she looked at me, nodded and finally told me I seemed familiar. I shook my head, and though I recognized the man from church, I’d never connected him as her son. She shook her head in the way someone who’s had her hardships does and started talking about where she went to church, etc. Then she told me she used to cook at my old butcher/grocer/deli before the place was sold and eventually went out of business. (It is now a custom motorcycle shop, go figure.)

I nearly jumped out of my chair. “Oh, my gosh! You’re the lady who used to make the chicken!” I immediately knocked on the receptionist’s window, secured pen and paper and begged Angelina for the rest of the recipe. (Yes, it’s at my official website. Look below for the link.

Thoughts for the day: Expect the unexpected. Be open. Smile and say hello. You’ll be surprised at who crosses your path, and why, when or how any given person will impact your life.

Here’s the link: www.joannaaislinn.com/Recipes.html

Try it! Let me know if it’s as awesome as I say!

I love tennis. I fell in love with it by total accident,  during a sopping, rain-drenched fourth-of-July weekend  at the shore. The streets flooded so badly, the water was thigh-high on my five-foot frame. We were stuck indoors at a bed-and-breakfast with no cable and only Wimbledon to watch on NBC.

My friend’s soon to be husband had played on the satellite pro circuit, so she knew the game and explained it to me. (Having Stefan Edberg to watch didn’t hurt, nor did David Wheaton lack in the  ‘hot’ department of that semi-final.) Years later, she likes it–I get obsessed during the Grand Slams and have been known to suffer some serious sleep deprivation during the US and recently, the Australian Opens. I’m up to guessing my favorite players’ zodiac signs and nailed Nadal as a Gemini and Federer as a Leo 🙂 I can see the Aquarian in Venus, but Serena–a Libra?

Of course, I was home for ‘Breakfast at Wimbledon’ this past Sunday–drove home from PA right after the BBQ at my cottage community on Saturday to insure I’d be in front of my TV in time for that first serve. Andy Roddick played the no-words-left-to-describe-the-phenom Roger Federer, who, as John McEnroe so aptly put it, “makes the rest of …the undisputed greatest players of the Open era…look average.”

Don’t get me wrong, I love watching Roger’s artistry in motion, but I rooted for Roddick. I had to. I don’t even count Andy among my favorite players, but in the past few tournaments I’ve seen a young guy who has transformed himself out on that court. And I’ve watched him persevere right into his first five-set match against the ‘greatest player of all time’ and hold his own up to that last–and only–devastating break of serve that cost him the match. Yes, losing that second set tiebreaker didn’t help, but in the past, Andy might have given up and ‘gone away’ as tennis commentators tend to say. But he didn’t. He got right back up and held on for three more sets, only to have what could have been the most meaningful win of his life become his most significant tennis  loss, I’m sure.

Yet, if Andy wants to claim another Grand Slam title, he needs to persevere. He needs to take a hard, honest look at his match–go over what worked and be willing to change what didn’t. And he’s got to dig the deepest he ever has if he plans on walking onto tennis’ biggest stage again, let go of the past, and persevere another three, four, most likely five sets.

As writers, teachers, parents, people–don’t we need to do the same?