It's a Small World

I am repeatedly struck by the number of people who move here to Johnson County, KS, from the area in which I spent most of my life: North San Diego county. My stats professor last semester grew up in Escondido, the same city I lived in. He went to Palomar junior college, which is the college I started out at, too. Just tonight, I opened my microbiology lab text -- the author is a professor at Palomar. But even stranger to me, in the acknowledgments he thanks Dorcas Lounsbery, a long-time friend of the family. (To my CA friends and family -- do you know Ron Palcic or Gary Alderson? Would be so weird if you did.)

These are not the only examples. I work with a woman who lived in Escondido for several years. The administrative assistant at our synagogue went to the same high school I went to, and she graduated just two years ahead of me. Aaron works with a woman who graduated the same year Aaron did from the same high school. While they did not know each other then, they know a lot of the same people.

I've seen cars with license plate frames from car dealerships in Torrey Pines and San Marcos. I seem to encounter people on a regular basis who are from North San Diego County. How do so many people from one place end up here? Yes, the areas are similar -- lots of housing developments, community pools, gyms, and chain restaurants -- but there are hundreds -- probably thousands -- of similar places in the US. Yes, Kansas City is a great place to raise a family, but so are a lot of other places. Housing prices are great compared to San Diego, but that's true of many other places, too.

So what is it that brings so many from there to here? It boggles me. I think about it far too much. It's like there's some kind of connection, maybe some worm-holish-type anomaly, that brings people from North San Diego county to JoCo, KS.

What is it?!?!

Vegan Coconut Milk Fruit Smoothie

I have been enamored of coconut milk lately. It tastes far better than soy milk and gives things a very rich, creamy texture. Plus, it helps me avoid eating too much soy, which, depending on who you talk to, can be bad as chemicals in it mimic estrogen, which are theorized to contribute to breast cancer development. I doubt these claims, but just in case they're correct, I'll use coconut milk sometimes instead of soy milk.

I've also read that you can skim off the fatty part of coconut milk, beat it, and it will turn into whipped "cream." I have not tried it yet, but I look forward to that experiment!

Here's my concoction:

About 1 cup coconut milk (full fat) - I recommend Thai Kitchen brand
About 1 cup strawberries
About 1/2 banana
1/2 tsp coconut extract
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
Several drops stevia*

Put in blender and mix. I had refrigerated the coconut overnight. I don't know if that made a difference to its creaminess, but it might have. This smoothie was thick and yummy.

* Stevia is an awesome sweetener. It's an herb that is far sweeter than sugar so you only need a few drops usually (if you're using the liquid version). Plus, it doesn't raise blood sugar. In fact, it seems to increase insulin sensitivity, and some countries in South America even use it as a treatment for Type II diabetes. I credit it with helping to delay my diabetes diagnosis by a year. When my first glucose tolerance test came back over the range for a positive diagnosis (you have to get 2 out of 3 tests high enough to be diagnosed unless it's super high), I started using stevia in my tea every day. My blood sugars came down to normal levels within two weeks. I still use it, but since I also eat the way I'm supposed to now, it's impossible to say whether my continued normal blood sugars are due to diet or stevia or both.

Vegan Pancakes with Coconut Milk

I wanted to veganize pancakes last night (breakfast for dinner - yay!) but was out of soymilk. Here's what I came up with, and they were delicious.

Pancake mix -- I followed the directions on the box with these substitutions:

Sub coconut milk for cow's milk
Sub 1/2 banana for egg
Sub orange extract for vanilla

They tasted mildly tropical without being overtly so. Yum!!!

The Mushroom

I have been feeling nostalgic and weepy today, all because of a carved wooden mushroom. It has made me think about how people imbue objects with meaning. On its own, this mushroom means nothing. It's neat, and I would buy it if I saw it in a store if I had the extra money, but it has no inherent meaning in and of itself. Yet, I have somehow folded this mushroom into my heart, and it has nestled in so snugly that the thought of losing it tugs on that little piece of heart and makes me weep.

What is it about this mushroom? I tell myself that material things don't matter. I try to raise my kids that way, although I think I have failed miserably the way they go on about what I deem very silly things. I suppose my attachment to this mushroom could be a very silly thing, too. But I am undeniably, inextricably attached to this carved wooden mushroom.

When I was a kid, I saw my daddy-Guy (my father's name is Guy) every other weekend. I remember state fairs, the tree house, the horsewhip I carried because I was afraid of the neighbor's evil geese who hissed at and chased me (I never used the whip; it was like Dumbo's feather), the trips cross country and trying to sleep curled up like a cat in the back of Dad's truck, getting thrown by the neighbor's pony, hiking in the hills behind the house, refusing to cross the plank-bridge across the stream because I was sure it was going to break and it did, Tasha, pancakeswithcornmeal-spaghettiwithwheatgerm-carobchipcookies, one of Dad's girlfriend's fetal pigs in a jar, running wild with his hippie friend's kids while questionable herbs might have been smoked . . . Somehow, all of those memories have been locked up inside that mushroom.

I realized that I have always assumed the mushroom would be mine, so when I discovered it might not be, my heart panicked. I felt frantic. I tell myself that, after all, it is just a mushroom. I tell myself that my siblings might have similar strong attachments to it, yet  it is so tied into my self-perception that I have difficulty believing that. It's like when you were a teen and you "loved" a boy who loved someone else, and you just knew that they didn't really love that other person because you were the one for them and they just didn't know it yet. That's how I feel about this carved wooden mushroom. In my heart, it is mine.

It is just a mushroom. A mushroom imbued with meaning, by me, but nonetheless, just a mushroom. I don't know that it won't one day be mine. I tell myself I am crying over a future loss that may never happen, which is just silly. But maybe instead I am crying over a past that is gone yet still present in my heart.

I wonder whether I should post this. I don't want Doug, Cait, and Beth to feel like I am trying to start a contest to see who loves the mushroom more (although I cannot promise my subconscious is not doing just that). I know, Doug, Cait, and Beth, that you may love this mushroom as much as I do, and I would (try very very hard to) be happy for the one who gets it while feeling sad for myself.

No matter what, though, I will have these memories, even if they be wrapped in the shape of a carved wooden mushroom. And that is what matters most.

dancing AND

When I listen to music, I dance. When I cook, I listen to music. Ergo, when I cook, I dance. Consequently, cooking can take me much longer than it should. Sometimes, I can dance in one place and chop veggies at the same time. I can definitely stir soup and dance. Sometimes, though, the music takes me and I find myself dancing all around the kitchen, over the dogs and around the kids. (I do try to remember to put the knife down first.)

The kids don't appear to think it's out of the ordinary, and I suppose, for them, it's not. I've always danced while cooking. Occasionally, they will join me. Liam likes to do the running man, and Aisling will jump around with me all over the place. They usually poop out on me, though.

Tonight, I discovered that dancing is a great way to shake up a can of coconut milk. Just take one can in each hand and wave those arms around while dancing. It's a fantastic workout, too.

I also dance and drive. I'm sitting, sure, but that doesn't stop me from boogieing in my seat. [Aside: I am not sure of the correct way to spell boogie-ing. This is what my computer suggested, and I have accepted it.] Fortunately, dance-alyzers have yet to be invented; I would fail every time.

When I walk for exercise, I plug into my ipod and dance in my head. It is hard to dance and walk at the same time, and I am, as yet, too self-conscious to dance down the sidewalk. It does affect my walking, though, at times, giving me a bit more hip-swiggle than an ordinary walk calls for. It makes me wonder what passing motorists think. Am I trying to attract attention? Do I think I am hot stuff? Do they even really notice? (It has been a long time since I've gotten a wolf whistle.) I notice people walking. Does that mean other people notice me walking? (I think I see a new blog post shaping up here.)

I used to dance while trying to clean. Unfortunately, I get very little housework done while dancing, so when I am serious about it (which I rarely am), I have to turn off the music.

I have said that I may love dancing more than I love reading, and some people who know me well have disagreed with that. After all, I spend almost all my free time reading. I certainly spend more time reading than I do dancing ... that is, if you don't count the time I spend driving and dancing.

So which do I love more, dancing or reading? I've decided it's a matter of place. When I read, I escape. I am no longer in the "real" world. I am away, I am absorbed. When I dance, I am in the moment, right there, in my body, sweating and moving, not thinking, just letting my body inhabit the music. I spend so much time in my head, thinking, thinking, thinking, that dance, ironically, grounds me while also somehow setting me free.

When I listen to music, I dance.

Vegan Peanut Coconut Sweet Potato Soup

I let Liam choose the soup tonight, and he said he wanted something with coconut milk and sweet potatoes. Here's what I came up with. It's quite mellow, so you might want to use more red pepper or lime or add some lemongrass or chives. Some strange people think cilantro (yuck!) goes well with this kind of soup, too.

Ingredients:

• Peanut oil
• Sweet potatoes -- about 6 smallish ones -- peeled and cubed
• 1/2 tsp grated ginger
• Minced garlic to taste (I probably used the equivalent of 4 cloves, but we're a garlic family; you might want less)
• 1/8 tsp crushed red pepper (or more if you like spicy)
• 2 cups water with vegetable bouillon
• 1/4 cup peanut butter
• 1 can coconut milk
• Lime juice to taste (I used 1 tsp)
• Bragg's liquid aminos or soy sauce to taste (I used 1 tbsp)
• Salt to taste (optional)
• Red pepper flakes (optional)

Directions:

1. Heat splash of peanut oil over medium heat. Add cubed sweet potatoes and stir to coat.
2. Add ginger, globs of minced garlic, and red pepper.
3. Let cook for 5ish minutes (remember to stir).
4. Add water and bouillon, enough to just cover sweet potatoes. Bring to boil, then reduce heat and simmer till sweet potatoes are tender -- about 6 minutes.
5. Add peanut butter and stir till it dissolves.
6. Add coconut milk and stir.
7. Add lime juice, Bragg's liquid aminos, and salt (optional), and stir.
8. Heat through and serve. You could also blend this into a creamy soup.
9. Top with red pepper flakes if you like it hot.

Notes:

• I am not a huge fan of ginger or lime. I like just a hint of their flavors, so I used very little in this recipe. You might like quite a bit more.
• I use full fat coconut milk. Fat is good. It's too much food that's bad.
• I prefer Bragg's liquid aminos to soy sauce because it has the same flavor (slightly more mild) but without the salt. Supposedly, it's good for you, too.
• I am a lazy cook. I use the pre-grated ginger and pre-minced garlic. Fresh ginger and garlic might have a stronger taste.
• I usually throw things together then cross my fingers and hope it will turn out. On this one, though, I did a lot of tasting and adjusting at the end.
• This might also be good with some kale or rice noodles added.