Sometimes I Feel Like a Nut

I need a beach

2011-06-24T20:21:00.000-05:00

I grew up 25 minutes from the Pacific Ocean. Once I got out of college, I stopped going to the beach very often. Too sandy, too busy, too much traffic on the way.

I took it for granted.

Now I live smack-dab in the middle of the US where the nearest beach is a 3-hour plane ride away, and I feel desperate for it.

My friends have told me to go to a lake.

A lake.

Sigh.

Aisling and I in Carlsbad, 2004.

Worst semester ever is OVER

2011-05-22T19:21:00.000-05:00

I have spent 11 years of my life in college. While doing my Masters', I worked full time, Liam was a toddler, and I was pregnant with Zing for part of it, too. I have faced school-related challenges and I have felt stressed out of my mind before.

But this semester. This semester was the worst of all these 11 years. Between getting sick over and over again, starting a new job halfway through the semester, and having classes I actually had to study for, I thought I was going to lose my mind. Then Aaron got laid off - all I wanted to was crawl in my bed and cry, but because I'd gotten so far behind, all I could do was cry in my car on the drive home when I couldn't do anything else anyway and then get right back to work.

Anyway, I got through it. I did end up with one B, which would normally mortify me, but at this point, I'm just glad I survived.

Now it's time for another nap.

Running lessons

2011-04-17T13:31:00.000-05:00

I started running today. Lessons learned:

1. Running with chest congestion does not feel good.
2. 8 year olds run faster than me.

What I learned about electroconvulsive therapy

2011-04-17T13:29:00.000-05:00

I got to observe electroconvulsive therapy yesterday. What I learned (not all of which is related to ECT itself)*:

It's not as "shocking" as you might expect. (Or, at least, it did not provide the drama I feared it might.)
The patients get lots of meds ahead of time, like about eight.
Some patients get IV caffeine because it makes the seizure stronger.
Just before the procedure, the patients get a sedative and a muscle relaxant.
The muscle relaxant ensures that the patient's seizure remains confined to their brain, so they don't flop all over the bed. The nurse anesthetist uses a muscle stimulator on the patient's arm; when the arm stops twitching in response to the stimulator, they know the muscle relaxant has kicked in.
The nurse anesthetist inserts a bite block after the patient's sedation has taken effect to protect their mouths.
The anesthesiologist manually ventilates the patient using a bag and mask attached to oxygen before, during, and after the procedure to "hyperoxygenate" them.
When the seizure starts, you see the patient's jaw suddenly clench. If the blood pressure cuff had inflated when the nurse anesthetist administered the muscle relaxant, you might see that hand twitch during the seizure because those muscles did not get the muscle relaxant.
They can place the electrodes in three configurations: both on the front of the forehead above each eye, one on each temple, or one on a temple and the other on top of the head.
When I asked how they knew where to place the electrodes, the technician answered, "Wherever the doctor orders."
When I asked how the doctor knows where to place them, I got silence, even from the doctor. [Hm.]
The anesthesiologist then jumped in and said, "They use whatever works." [This bit disturbed me a little. I know there exist many things in medicine that we don't understand - we simply know they work - but if I decided to allow someone to pour voltage through my head to make me have a seizure, I would want to know that they knew exactly where to put the damn electrodes. On the other hand, this therapy usually remains a last resort for patients; many of them have already demonstrated that they pose a danger to themselves or others.]
Manually ventilating a real person with a bag and mask takes a lot more work than ventilating a mannequin in CPR class. [Human heads are heavy!]
People "hiccup" when they start to come out of the sedation.
Some patients get wicked headaches after the treatment [go figure].
The FDA just recently approved IV acetaminophen. Countries in Europe have used it since 2002.
Patients can have treatments as often as every other day. As they improve, they start spacing out the treatments. Some patients have had hundreds of individual treatments. [I didn't know a person could survive even ten, much less hundreds.]

Other notes, plus some commentary:

I mentioned in #12 that the patients getting ECT are at their last resort. Some of them have attempted suicide or have seriously thought about committing suicide. Others have seen their lives implode. They elect to get ECT after they have tried everything else, when medications, counseling, and other interventions have failed. They don't make this decision lightly.

Every ECT patient I saw looked absolutely normal. If we saw them walking down the street, we would never know they went in for regular ECT treatments. They looked like dads, grandmas, and college students.

If you don't know a lot about mental health issues, think of them this way: when someone has diabetes, their pancreas either does not produce any or enough insulin, or the body doesn't use insulin effectively. Mental illnesses work much the same, only the problem lies in the brain; the brain either does not produce enough of the hormones (for example, serotonin or dopamine) it needs to regulate moods, or the receptors for those hormones don't work right. Both diabetes and mental illness are physiological problems.

This reality highlights how very important it is to avoid assuming that someone is "normal" just because they look it. We never know the feelings or thoughts another person has unless they tell us. I've seen patients with depression who appeared outwardly gregarious and engaging; we wouldn't know that on the inside, they felt utterly hopeless - unless they told us.

* Everything I've written here comes from what I observed or what I was told during the procedures. For more information, try these sites:

The Mayo Clinic

Mental Health America

Words with Mother Nature

2011-02-01T21:09:00.000-06:00

Earlier today, as I cupped my hands around a mug of stevia-sweetened hot green tea, I gazed out the window at the falling snow and marveled at how wondrous the world can be.

I opened the front door to better see the majesty of the blowing snow and found this mound of snow standing against the door in neat little layers.

I called the kids to come see our front porch. The stairs had seemingly disappeared.

See? We really do have stairs.

Then.

I shoveled.

The driveway.

That high point you see there is taller than Aisling.
Approximately 4.5 feet.

I had serious words with Mother Nature as I did so, admittedly with many cuss words thrown in. It's really quite interesting how much better a good four-letter word can make you feel.

Mother Nature responded by blowing my entire shovel-full of snow right back into my face.

It didn't feel good.

When I finished (here's another pic),

What you cannot tell from this picture is that the snow at the end of
the driveway is about 12 inches high.

I came inside, declared that I was not making dinner that night, and got straight into a hot bubble bath. Ahhh.

And then, pondering the depth of the snow, I realized that it was taller than Flea, our shih tzu, who would most certainly need to pee at some point. The thought of having one's nether parts encased in snow while attempting to relieve oneself made me get out of the bath (although not immediately, I admit) to go shovel a path for him in the backyard.

Then I went to admire my wonderful shoveling job, and this is what I saw:

It's only been about an hour, and it's already covered again.

Sigh.

Rainforest Adventures

2010-12-23T22:16:00.001-06:00

I got my wish! Feeling much better now. However, I was in so much pain that (1) I researched GI pain to verify that, yes, plain ol' gas and diarrhea can make you feel like you are going to die, and (2) I wondered what I was going to do if I needed to go to the hospital in the middle of the night when (a) I did not know where the hospital was, and (b) I did not know who to call to find out. Yep. Pain was that bad.

I did learn in all my researching that acetaminophen is the painkiller of choice for GI pain. However, the symptoms of acetaminophen toxicity are, beautifully, the same symptoms you would take it for. You can, though, take all the acetaminophen-combination drugs, too, like hydrocodone. Unfortunately, I (1) did not have any, and (2) was not going to put anything into my system unless I was guaranteed relief. I mean, what if it made it worse??

Anyway, I was well enough to go on our rainforest tour. We went to the Manuel Antonio National Park. It was, of course, beautiful, and our guide knew just where to look to show us the animals. He had a telescope, too, so we could see them "up close." The sloth was my favorite. Very cute.

The capuchins were cute until one of them snatched Olivine's carrots. Kat was sitting with her back to one of the monkeys, trying to shield them from seeing her open the packet of carrots. I turned to her just in time to see one of the monkeys dart forward, leap into Kat's lap, snatch the packet of carrots, and run back to his perch. Took maybe 2 seconds tops, certainly not enough time for me to get out a warning shout. Kat was a tad surprised and from then on, the capuchins were my enemies. No one takes carrots from Olivine! The damn monkeys didn't even like the carrots, either. They each tried one and then threw them on the ground. Stupid monkeys. The raccoons were aggressive about stealing bags, too, but they were easier to scare away. And really, raccoons?! I don't need raccoons in my rainforest. Got those at home. :-)

But the best news of all -- I got to go ziplining today!! It was awesome. I almost threw up after the first line simply because of all the adrenaline, but, as you know if you've read my previous post, I don't remember how to throw up, so I didn't. We took 12 ziplines total to get down the mountain, and it felt fantastic. So fantastic, in fact, that I thought I'd have a lot to write about it, but I am finding I do not. It was fantastic. Just ... fantastic. Liam liked it so much he told me he's going to move to Costa Rica after he graduates and work at the zipline place.

A couple of our guides had some fun with us. One of them hollered, "Hold on!" and then twisted the platform. The platforms are hung from the trees by thick cables; they're not nailed down. So when he grabbed the cable and pushed with his feet, the whole platform twisted - not a lot, but certainly enough to surprise us. The same guide gave me a friendly tap on the shoulder as I took off on the last line - just enough to set me spinning slowly around all the way down the line.

Tomorrow: a yacht out to Tortuga Island.

The Amazing Zipline Excursion - Not

2010-12-21T20:48:00.001-06:00

*** Warning: Contains references to vomit and diarrhea. Read at your own risk. ***

I was planning to write today about our amazing zipline adventure through the canopy. Ziplining through the rain forest is something I have wanted to do for about 10 years, ever since my friends Karla and Paul told me about their trip to Costa Rica. The trip was planned for today.

Sam, the smallish, but not smallest, iguana

And I had to stay at the Compound enduring burning stomach pain while almost everyone else went. I lay awake most of the night trying to convince myself that throwing up would really make me feel so much better. However, I have not vomited in 24 years, and I am apparently (and quite happily) out of practice. I failed in the convincing, so I tried to make it go through the other way. I have never wished for diarrhea like I did last night. Please, please, please . . .

Unfortunately, it appears that my GI system had turned off. Nothing was going anywhere. I endured the racing heartbeat followed by the super-slow, irregular, pounding heartbeat, the sweating, the chills, the nausea, hoping, hoping, hoping that I would feel better by morning.

I didn't, and while I'm starting to feel better, I'm still not back to normal. However, I am going to hike through the rain forest tomorrow no matter what. I may need to rest every 2 minutes, but I am not letting another day go by with me just sitting. Granted, I am sitting among beauty and watching iguanas, which is pretty damn cool, even with an upset stomach.

It looks like I will get to zipline on Thursday or Friday. Cross your fingers for me!

Ears in Costa Rica

2010-12-20T10:06:00.001-06:00

We are in Costa Rica! Haven't seen a whole lot yet, but what we have seen is beautiful.

I am here today, though, not to write about Costa Rica -- that will come tomorrow -- but rather to tell you about the hell that was my ears. I have a head cold. I'm sure I've flown with a head cold before, but this time made me swear I never will again. When we were making our descent into Houston, it felt like someone was stabbing an ice pick into the sinus above my right eye. That was only slightly worse than the pain in my ears radiating down my neck and into my teeth. On a scale of 0-10, this pain was an 8, easily. Keep in mind, too, that I would probably never rate anything a 10 because a 10 is the worst pain you can imagine. I have a very vivid imagination. So essentially this pain was an 8 out of 9. I almost cried, but it hurt too much to cry. The worst part, too, was that there was absolutely nothing I could do, nowhere to go, no one who could make it better. I was stuck on that stupid plane with my stupid ears, and that stupid ice pick stabbing over and over into my forehead.

Now I'm having a really hard time hearing conversations. However, all the sounds going on inside my head -- chewing, swallowing, random ear crackles, etc -- are magnified 100,456 times.

BUT, I am in Costa Rica! And I do not need my ears to appreciate the beauty. Unless, that is, there are animal sounds I should be hearing.

Books I've Read

2010-12-14T20:39:00.000-06:00

I'm supposed to be studying. So instead I am posting this on my blog.

How many of these books have you read? The BBC believes most people will have read only 6 of the 100 books listed here.

I wonder how they came up with this list? I've read 70, started 7, and watched movies for 2. This does not mean I remember them, though, just that I read them.

1 Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen

2 The Lord of the Rings – JRR Tolkien

3 Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte

4 Harry Potter series – JK ROWLING

5 To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee

6 The Bible

7 The Tin Drum - Gunter Grass

8 Nineteen Eighty Four – George Orwell

9 His Dark Materials – Philip Pullman

10 Great Expectations – Charles Dickens

11 Little Women – Louisa M Alcott

12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles – Thomas Hardy

13 Catch 22 – Joseph Heller

14 Complete Works of Shakespeare

15 Rebecca – Daphne Du Maurier

16 The Hobbit – JRR Tolkien

17 Birdsong – Sebastian Faulks

18 Catcher in the Rye – JD Salinger

19 The Time Traveller’s Wife – Audrey Niffenegger

20 Middlemarch – George Eliot

21 Gone With The Wind – Margaret Mitchell

22 The Great Gatsby – F Scott Fitzgerald

23 Bleak House – Charles Dickens

24 War and Peace – Leo Tolstoy

25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams

26 Brideshead Revisited – Evelyn Waugh

27 Crime and Punishment – Fyodor Dostoyevsky

28 Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck

29 Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll

30 The Wind in the Willows – Kenneth Grahame

31 Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy

32 David Copperfield – Charles Dickens

33 Chronicles of Narnia – CS Lewis

34 Emma – Jane Austen

35 Persuasion – Jane Austen

36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – CS Lewis

37 The Kite Runner – Khaled Hosseini

38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis De Berniere

39 Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden

40 Winnie the Pooh – AA Milne

41 Animal Farm – George Orwell

42 The Da Vinci Code – Dan Brown

43 One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel Garcia Marquez

44 A Prayer for Owen Meany – John Irving

45 The Woman in White – Wilkie Collins

46 Anne of Green Gables – LM Montgomery

47 Far From The Madding Crowd – Thomas Hardy

48 The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood

49 Lord of the Flies – William Golding

50 Atonement – Ian McEwan

51 Life of Pi – Yann Martel

52 Dune – Frank Herbert

53 Cold Comfort Farm – Stella Gibbons

54 Sense and Sensibility – Jane Austen

55 A Suitable Boy – Vikram Seth

56 The Shadow of the Wind – Carlos Ruiz Zafon

57 A Tale Of Two Cities – Charles Dickens

58 Brave New World – Aldous Huxley

59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time – Mark Haddon

60 Love In The Time Of Cholera – Gabriel Garcia Marquez

61 Of Mice and Men – John Steinbeck

62 Lolita – Vladimir Nabokov

63 The Secret History – Donna Tartt

64 The Lovely Bones – Alice Sebold

65 Count of Monte Cristo – Alexandre Dumas

66 On The Road – Jack Kerouac

67 Jude the Obscure – Thomas Hardy

68 Bridget Jones’s Diary – Helen Fielding

69 Midnight’s Children – Salman Rushdie

70 Moby Dick – Herman Melville

71 Oliver Twist – Charles Dickens

72 Dracula – Bram Stoker

73 The Secret Garden – Frances Hodgson Burnett

74 Notes From A Small Island – Bill Bryson

75 Ulysses – James Joyce

76 The Bell Jar – Sylvia Plath

77 Swallows and Amazons – Arthur Ransome

78 Germinal – Emile Zola

79 Vanity Fair – William Makepeace Thackeray

80 Possession – AS Byatt

81 A Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens

82 Cloud Atlas – David Mitchell

83 The Color Purple – Alice Walker

84 The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro

85 Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert

86 A Fine Balance – Rohinton Mistry

87 Charlotte’s Web – EB White

88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven – Mitch Albom

89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

90 The Faraway Tree Collection – Enid Blyton

91 Heart of Darkness – Joseph Conrad

92 The Little Prince – Antoine De Saint-Exupery

93 The Wasp Factory – Iain Banks

94 Watership Down – Richard Adams

95 A Confederacy of Dunces – John Kennedy Toole

96 A Town Like Alice – Nevil Shute

97 The Three Musketeers – Alexandre Dumas

98 Hamlet – William Shakespeare

99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – Roald Dahl

100 Les Miserables – Victor Hugo

Google Game

2010-11-24T15:42:00.000-06:00

Rules: Search Google Images to match your answers. Only use images from first 2 pages of your search.

My Age:

Fun place I've been to:

Somewhere I want to go:

One of my favorite places:

Favorite object:

Favorite food:

Favorite animal:

Favorite color:

Birth place:

Current place of residence:

Past love:

Best friend:

First name:

Nickname:

First job:

What I'm doing now:

(This took way too long to do. Obviously, I'm not feeling very productive today.)

Black-Eyed Peas and Liquid Smoke

2010-10-26T18:45:00.000-05:00

I have decided that one of the best food combinations ever is black-eyes peas and liquid smoke. Here's my latest soup with these scrumptious ingredients.

Mix together in soup pot:

4 cups water
Not-chicken broth cubes (appropriate amt for 4 cups water)
1 can diced tomatoes (mine happened to be italian style, and I did not drain them)
24 ounces mixed frozen veggies (I used green beans, broccoli, cauliflower, and carrots)
1 can black-eyed peas
Onion powder (1-2 tsps?)
Basil, oregano, and parsley (1/2 - 1 tbsp each?)
Lots of minced garlic (4-6 cloves)
1 tsp liquid smoke
About 3/4 cup quinoa

Bring to boil, then reduce to simmer. Cover loosely and simmer for about 15 minutes.

Nothing's in the Pantry Vegan Baked Pasta

2010-10-21T20:06:00.000-05:00

I haven't gone to the store in awhile and didn't feel like going tonight, so I had to figure out how to make dinner with limited ingredient choices. This is what came of it. It's a good basic mix - nothing I would make for company, but great for family dinner. The kids even had seconds.

I used:

16 ounces curly noodles
1/2 jar leftover spaghetti sauce (about 12 oz)
1 - 8oz can tomato sauce
1 - 6oz can tomato paste
About 1/2 cup (homemade) leftover creamy tomato soup*
1 - 14oz can diced tomatoes, drained
Couple shakes of onion powder
Couple shakes of garlic powder
About 1/2 tub of vegan cream cheese (4 oz?)
About 1/2 tub of vegan sour cream (6 oz?)

Directions:

Boil pasta
While pasta is cooking, mix everything else in saucepan over medium heat. Simmer till pasta is done.
Coat bottom of 9x13" dish with sauce.
Pour drained pasta in dish.
Cover pasta with rest of sauce. Mix up a little bit if needed.
Bake at 350 for 25 minutes.

* Two 8 oz cans tomato sauce, 2-1/2 cups rice milk, onion powder, garlic powder, and ground mustard.

Donating Blood Woes

2010-10-19T09:23:00.000-05:00

The past several times I've given blood, I've done a double donation where they hook you up to a machine that separates your red blood cells from the plasma and then puts the plasma back into you. I'd been told that double donations are "easier" on you afterward than are whole blood donations, but I figured that assertion was just justification from those people who were either too chicken to do a double, who were trying to take us arrogant doublers down a notch, or who didn't have high enough iron levels. I mean, sure, you're getting plasma back, but you're losing the same amount of red blood cells, so your oxygen levels are affected the same as someone who has not gotten their plasma back.

Well yesterday, I donated blood, and they didn't have their plasma-phoresis machine (I think that's what it's called) set up so I had to give whole blood instead. It wiped me out! I felt fine when I left, but then I almost hit a car pulling out of my parking space [Sorry other driver! I probably scared the pants off you!], and then I almost fell asleep reading to Zing. I did fall asleep in her bed when I finished reading to her. I went to bed at 8:00 and slept straight through to 6:30. I could have slept longer, and I still feel apathetic.

Maybe this whole blood vs double donation has something to it after all. Or maybe the stress of taking my patho test right before I gave blood made me more susceptible to exhaustion. Whatever happened, it's a good thing I haven't had this reaction before or I might not have given blood again. Good thing I know it's not always this bad.

Really Easy One-Pot Vegan Tomato Veggie Quinoa Soup

2010-10-17T13:49:00.000-05:00

It's not quite cold enough for soup yet, but I couldn't wait any longer. Made this soup last night. It's thicker than most soups, so use more water if you prefer a soupy soup.

Throw the following into a soup pot and bring to a boil:

About 3 cups water
1 - 28oz can crushed tomatoes
1 - 14oz can diced tomatoes (not drained)
About 24 oz frozen mixed veggies (I used a mix of broccoli, mushrooms, carrots, green beans, zucchini, peas, and something yellow)
Basil, oregano, and parsley - I think I used about 1 tbsp each
Onion powder - I think I used 1-2 tsps
Many cloves of minced garlic - I probably used 6-8 cloves
1 cup quinoa (rinsed unless you buy Bob's Red Mill)

Once it comes to a boil, reduce to a simmer. Simmer until quinoa is done -- the middle of each grain will become translucent and a little hook, or tail, will pop out of one side. They'll be firm but not crunchy. I think it takes about 15 minutes, just enough time to heat up a multigrain baguette!

Surprise! I'm a class rep!

2010-10-14T11:16:00.000-05:00

I've been elected class representative for my nursing school class!

I threw my name in because I thought it would be fun, that I'd be good at it, and so I could get to know the faculty better so I'll have good references for graduate school. All we had to do was write a paragraph about ourselves and why we wanted to be class rep. There are four reps - one for each group (we're divided into three groups) and one at-large rep.

I really didn't think many students would vote for me. After all, I'm about 15 years older than most of them (19 years older than some -- I could be their mom!) and in a totally different place in my life with kids, a house, husband, bills, etc. As we don't break into our groups until next semester, I don't know many people in my group either, so it really was a surprise.

This also means that I (probably) won't apply for the honors program. I couldn't decide if I wanted to or not, and so I thought I'd let this election decide for me: if I was elected, I would not do the honors program, and if I wasn't elected, I would do the honors program. To me, both are a means of having a higher chance of getting into the graduate program I want, so one should do the job.

Of course, being me, I'm now thinking, "Hey! I can do both!" And then my realistic (boring) side reminds me that I do like having time with my family, especially since it has been suggested (passive voice intentional) that our chances of getting a job right after passing the licensing exam will be much higher if we're already working as a nurse associate somewhere.

Anyway, I got elected! Even better, our group is quite diverse. We have one man, one older student (me), an african-american woman (I think she's mid to late 20s), and one or two younger white women (they tied twice -- once in the general election and once in the run-off, so we have to decide on Monday if they both join or if we take only one of them). Our class, though, is about 10% men, 15% people of color, and 10% over age 30 (these are all my estimates, not official numbers). Cool, huh? No tyranny of the majority here!

Here's the paragraph I wrote:

Hi there! My name is Yara, and I am a returning student -- in other words, older. :-) I’ve been married for 15 years and have two kids: an 11 year old boy named Liam and an 8 year old girl named Aisling. My two favorite things to do are reading and dancing. In fact, I almost dropped out of college the first time ‘round to audition to be a Las Vegas showgirl. (THAT would have been a different life!) I have two degrees, one in English and one in Education, and I think these would help make me an effective representative for our class. I have spent most of my working life in teaching, instructional design for adults, and management. In particular, I spent a year teaching at a university, so I know the system from both sides. I also know how curriculum and teaching should be designed to be as effective as possible, and my eight years as a manager have given me negotiation and leadership skills. But most importantly, I’ve been told over the years that I’m a good listener, and I promise to do that for you all, too!

Calendar Comfort

2010-08-24T09:13:00.000-05:00

I had my first "real" day of nursing school (ie, classes rather than orientation), and I'm still not entirely sure what's up. So I have assuaged my inner control freak with calendars:

A Google calendar with the entire family's schedule (plus my major assignments/tests), so I can see just how crazy my life is from anywhere I might happen to be. (School was a helluva lot easier when I didn't have kids' dentist appts, softball games, after-school socials, etc, to think about.) I also print this calendar each week, and we have a family "meeting" to go over everything on it, so everyone knows where everyone will be.

A whiteboard wall calendar with all my major assignments for the entire semester, so the family knows when I'm more likely to be a stress-case and avoid me.

A whiteboard refrigerator calendar with the family's non-routine events so everyone can see at a glance when the schedule will vary. (This does not duplicate the printed Google calendar, because it is for the month rather than the week.)

A spreadsheet showing all my assignments, readings, tests, quizzes, papers, etc, organized by due date. This one is especially satisfying 'cause I can check things off. (I love checking things off. I'm one of those people who writes "Write list" at the top of my lists, so I can immediately check something off and get that feeling of satisfaction from getting something done.)

Plus I have all the syllabi, which I check regularly to make sure I'm not missing anything. And now, since creating more calendars would be overdoing it a bit (don't you think?), I am writing about my calendars. I find a certain comfort in them, like they are my security blanket. I think what they illustrate more than anything, though, is that I will need a long vacation with nothing to do but lie on a beach once this semester is over.

Chickenofu Noodle Soup

2010-05-20T21:53:00.000-05:00

I was craving a chicken-noodle soupish type dinner tonight, so I came up with this. Aisling -- who declared just last night that she hates ALL soup -- said this was the best soup ever. So good, in fact, that she wants it on her birthday. So if you follow 8-year old girls' gustatory recommendations, this soup is for you! (I thought it was pretty good, too, or I wouldn't be posting it here.)

Ingredients:

1 Tbsp olive oil
2-3 carrots, finely diced
3-4 cloves minced garlic (or even more!!)

9 cups water
3 Not-Chicken broth cubes
1 1/2 tsp Spike seasoning
1/2 tsp onion powder
1/4 tsp celery salt

9 oz (ish) thin spaghetti noodles, broken into smaller pieces
9 oz (ish) extra firm tofu, pressed and diced

Instructions:

Heat olive oil over medium low heat. Add carrots and about 2 tablespoons water. Cover and steam for about 10 minutes.
Add water, broth cubes, and the three seasonings. Simmer for 15 minutes.
Bring to gentle boil. Add spaghetti. Cook for as long as directions on spaghetti box tell you to.
Turn heat to lowish. Add tofu and let it heat through, about 5 minutes.

The Vanity Button

2010-03-14T13:32:00.000-05:00

Note: I wrote the following post about 3 weeks ago. I didn't publish it then because I have a fear of sounding like I'm bragging about myself. (This habit comes from two of my high school best friends "breaking up" with me because they said I was stuck-up. I stopped saying good things about myself about that time.) So please read this in the vein in which it was written: irony with a touch of chagrin. :-)

I went shopping with my mom today. There is a little shop, Nomads, in downtown Lawrence that I love. It is actually a travel agency that sells travel clothes and accessories. You can get a travel bag ... or you can get unique clothing from one-of-a-kind designers and hand-made jewelry from Turkey, Greece, or ... Lawrence. (The owner supports local artists, too.)

Best of all, the clothes are all T R A V E L - F R I E N D L Y. Do you know what that means? Do you know how exciting this is? They don't have to be ironed! Ever! And they're comfortable and movable-in! And they're not t-shirts. They're cotton and wool and all sorts of different materials that might normally have to be ironed but these clothes don't have to be because they've got seams and folds in strange places and they're all asymmetrical, and, and, and ... I just love them so much. Asymmetrical is me. Comfortable is me. Not ironing is most definitely me.

I knew I would buy something. I have to, if for no other reason than to support this local, woman-owned store that I love so much. I did not know I would walk out of there with a two skirts, two shirts, a necklace, and a shrug. Yes, a shrug. I have never envisioned myself in a shrug. I have enormously broad shoulders and shrugs have either failed to stretch over that great breadth of shoulder or they have made me look like a football player wearing 80s era shoulder pads. But this shrug, while it does emphasize my shoulders, does so in a way that makes my waist look small., which is, most definitely, a good thing.

So I bought a lot of stuff, more than I planned on. I would not have done it, either, except that the saleswoman hit my vanity button so damn well. You see, when I was a teen, into my early 20s, I was a runway model*. Because of my large shoulders, I had what they called the "hanger" body. Put clothes on me and there were no pesky breasts, stomach, hips, or thighs to ruin the line of the clothes. They just hung.

After two kids, a desk job, and no exercise, that hanger body became more of a stuffed pillow body. And then (fast-forward through long not-nearly-so-dramatic-a-story-as-I-like-to-make-it-sound), I lost 40 pounds, so I now have a smoother soft pillow body.

So today, I put on the first skirt, which was fabulously asymmetrical in front but tighter in the butt than I have worn in about 15 years, and the first thing the saleswoman said in her Peruvian accent (which made it sound even better) was, "She has a model's body." To which my mom replied that yes, I used to be a model. And then they continued to flatter me with how well everything looked and so I bought more. And more. And then one more. I knew, the entire time, that I was letting vanity and nostalgia influence me, but I still did it. That damn vanity button.

I hope everything looks as good tomorrow.

* I accidentally wrote "runaway model." Does that tickle you as much as it does me? hee!

Avocado Mango Salad

2010-03-14T13:20:00.000-05:00

One of my own concoctions -- very proud of it.

Throw together the following ingredients:

About 2 handfuls of spinach
2 avocados, diced
1 mango, diced
1 small cucumber, peeled, seeded, and diced
About 1/3 cup red onion, sliced
Candied walnuts*
Red pepper flakes (optional)

For dressing, I used the following recipe; it's the balsamic vinaigrette we always use. However, I think this salad would also be good with a sweeter dressing or a lime-based one.

Shake or blend the following:

1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
3 Tbsp agave syrup (or honey)
1 tsp dijon mustard
1/2 tsp salt
1-2 garlic cloves, minced
3-1/2 Tbsp peanut oil

* You may have a better way of making candied walnuts, but this is how I did it: throw some walnuts in a small skillet over med-low heat. Pour sugar over them. Stir regularly, especially as the sugar starts to harden.

The man in the cap in the old blue pick-up truck

2010-02-12T21:25:00.000-06:00

I noticed the man in the old blue Nissan pick-up truck because of a bumper sticker. I don't remember two of them, but the third said, "Veterans for Kerry." I felt a connection with this man in the old blue pick-up truck because I voted for Kerry, too. I thought about the man being a veteran. I could tell he was older; I'm not sure how exactly. Maybe it was his neck and the way his shoulders sloped. He was wearing a flat cap, the kind that old men wear, and I thought when Aaron is old, he will wear a cap like that.

[Extraneous comment: I did not know the name of the hat the man was wearing, so I tried googling various hat names that I could think of but could not find it. I finally searched for "old man hat." It came up instantly.]

The old blue Nissan pick-up truck was a stick shift. Each time we pulled away from a stop light, it was in harmony with his clutch. I wondered about his life, did he have a wife, kids, grandkids? Was he a widower out enjoying his drive, maybe on his way home from the library? I wondered about him in his old blue Nissan pick-up and flat cap.

We toodled along, me behind him, and I felt whimsically downcast that I soon had to turn off for gas. I wondered where he was going. Was he close to home? Had he lived there long? Had he just moved and why? And then he turned into the same 7-Eleven where I was going to get gas. I felt happy. I got to wonder about him more, maybe see what he was wearing. I also felt a bit chagrined, though -- I did not want him to think I was following him all those miles -- so I was glad when he parked rather than getting gas.

He was wearing khaki pants with cuffs and an old-style windbreaker. I don't remember his shoes. They were not sneakers, perhaps they were loafers. He went inside, and I got gas. I was getting ready to leave, when he came out with a bag. If he was a widower, it might have been dinner. Or maybe he was taking a sweet to his love. Then, he lit a cigarette.

He got back into his old blue pick-up truck, and I wound up directly behind him again, wondering again about this man. I had imagined all sorts of romantic lives for him, but at this point I thought, what if he is a child molester? What if he beat his wife? A flat cap, Kerry bumper sticker, and old blue pick-up truck do not make him a good person. Then I wondered why my thoughts suddenly went that way. Was it the cigarette?

He turned off at that point, and I continued along my way. I stopped wondering about the man, but I kept wondering about wondering, about where those thoughts come from and why. Why was this man in the old blue pickup truck a romantic figure until he put that cigarette in his mouth? Was it simply coincidence, and my thoughts would have gone that direction anyway when I realized how I had romanticized him? I don't know. I wonder.

It's a Small World

2010-01-22T23:17:00.007-06:00

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

2010-01-17T13:29:00.001-06:00

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

2010-01-16T13:37:00.000-06:00

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

2010-01-16T13:04:00.004-06:00

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

2010-01-06T22:39:00.001-06:00

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

2010-01-06T20:03:00.000-06:00

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:

Heat splash of peanut oil over medium heat. Add cubed sweet potatoes and stir to coat.
Add ginger, globs of minced garlic, and red pepper.
Let cook for 5ish minutes (remember to stir).
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.
Add peanut butter and stir till it dissolves.
Add coconut milk and stir.
Add lime juice, Bragg's liquid aminos, and salt (optional), and stir.
Heat through and serve. You could also blend this into a creamy soup.
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.

Bumper stickers

2009-12-30T17:40:00.000-06:00

I have bumper stickers on my car. I have never considered myself a bumper sticker person; it was a side effect of being practical.

When my little Toyota Yaris was totaled, I was rather freaked out, so I decided we needed a BIG car. I couldn't do an SUV or truck, however, as I wanted something at least slightly fuel-efficient. I also figured that with super tall kids, it made sense to have something with room. So we decided on a minivan. Nice and practical.

(I have never considered myself a minivan person either. Am I in denial or in disguise?)

Except that every third person around here owns a gray minvan. Every time I went to pick up the kids from school, I'd watch them walking slowly down the line of minivans, peering in each window to see which one had me in it.

Thus, the bumper stickers. I got four and put them on the car just below the window, which makes for great line of sight. They are:

- Be the change you wish to see in the world
- Live simply so others can simply live
- There is not a blue America and a red America, there is the United States of America
- Well-behaved women seldom make history

I chose these particular bumper stickers because I liked them but also because they are fairly innocuous. They might identify me as left of center, but none of them are particulary super-political.

A few weeks ago, I was at school, and when I got back to my car, there was a note on my windshield.

It says, "COMRADE - You rock. love from the owner of the gray Odyssey you parked in front of."

Only in the midwest would such innocuous bumper stickers earn one the socialist appellation "Comrade." (Not that I mind. My views on food availability alone probably make me a socialist.)

Toilet paper

2009-12-27T11:46:00.001-06:00

For many years now, I have had a paranoia about running out of toilet paper. We get down to about 5 rolls, and I panic and immediately run to the nearest store to buy a 24 pack of Quilted Northern. (They're double rolls, so that's actually 48.) Then I feel good.

It is ironic, then, that I somehow lost track of how much toilet paper was in the house when the blizzard came. I thought we had several rolls in the kids' bathroom. We didn't. So here we have been stuck in the house for 3 days ... and we have 1 roll of toilet paper. Just 1.

I decided to ration water and food. If we don't consume anything, there will be nothing to come out, so that 1 lone roll of toilet paper will last much longer. It seemed a perfectly resonable solution to me.

Aaron decided to go dig his car out.

Mexican Taco Casserole

2009-12-10T22:15:00.003-06:00

I am so proud of myself when I concoct a new recipe all by myself that I have to share it! Here's a not-spicy Taco Casserole.

Ingredients:
1 medium onion, chopped
minced garlic (I use lots)
1 package frozen Boca burger crumbles
1 package taco seasoning
8 oz can tomato sauce
14.5 oz can diced tomato, drained
4 oz can diced green chiles
14.5 oz can black beans, drained and rinsed
1 cup cheese (I used almost vegan cheese)
1/2 cup cheese
Fritos (couple handfuls)

Toppings:
Sour cream
Avocado
Whatever else sounds good. :-)

Directions:
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Saute onion for couple minutes over med heat. Add Boca crumbles and cook till mostly thawed. Add garlic and cook for 1-2 minutes longer.

Mix in taco seasoning. Add tomato sauce, diced tomatoes, and diced green chiles. Let cook while you're opening, draining, and rinsing black beans.

Add black beans, stir, and heat through (just a couple minutes -- skip if you're in a hurry). Add 1 cup cheese and mix till blended but not too melty. (You could probably serve the casserole at this point if you want to skip the oven time.)

Place layer of Fritos in bottom of large casserole dish. Pour taco mix over chips. Top with another handful of chips, then top with 1/2 cup cheese. Bake for 15-20 minutes.

Serve with all sorts of yummy toppings.

Variations: I considered making this with diced potato, sweet potato, or macaroni instead of the chips.Could also probably layer it between tortillas in the casserole. Could also substitute enchilada sauce for the tomato sauce.

Vegan Stuffing a la Yara

2009-11-28T21:53:00.000-06:00

I managed to make a recipe all by myself! I know many of you do that every day, but for me, it is a huge accomplishment. Here it is:

1 loaf (~ 1 pound) bread, mild flavor, crusty or toasted, torn into large pieces
Vegan margarine
1 large shallot
1-2 cups mushrooms
1-4 cloves garlic
1-1.5 Not-Chicken bouillon cubes
Dried sage (1 tbsp maybe? Not sure)

Throw a couple dollops vegan margarine in a skillet and saute the shallots till softish. Add mushrooms and saute till soft, about 6 minutes or so. Add garlic and saute for another 1-2 minutes. Add more margarine at any point if it starts to look too dry in there. (This is not a low-fat recipe. Why should it be??)

Meanwhile, pour 2 cups boiling water over the Not-Chicken cubes and stir till they are dissolved.

Put bread pieces in mixing bowl. Pour broth over bread and mix till saturated; add a bit of water if needed. Add mushroom mixture and stir. Sprinkle dried sage over the top and mix.

Spoon into loaf pan, cover with foil, and bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes. Remove foil and bake for another 15 minutes. It will be pretty moist when it's done, and it will stick together loaf-style, not crumbly.

It is not a pretty stuffing, but it does taste yummy. Of course, you can add all the extra stuff, too, like celery, apples, nuts, etc. I prefer my stuffing mooshy. :-)

Cooking, carmelizing, craving

2009-11-25T14:12:00.004-06:00

Did you know that when you brown pork chops, they don't turn brown, they turn white? Why call it "browning" in that case? Why not "whiting?" Anyway, when my stepmom asked me to brown the pork chops one night when I was 12 years old, I browned 'em. Not whited 'em, browned 'em. The dogs had a good dinner that night, and Tracey never asked me to cook again.

So I didn't cook for a long time, but when we became vegetarian, I discovered that if I wanted to eat tasty food, I'd have to cook. So I bought some cookbooks and cooked. I never felt I could take credit for the results cause all I did was follow instructions (I'm really good at following instructions); someone else did all the creative work.

Lately, though, I've been branching out. I've tried a few things on my own, and I've gotten brave about using a recipe as a stimulus -- rather than following it, I use it as a framework for my own creation. I've discovered that most cooking is really quite forgiving. You can play around with it and usually come up with something decent. I'm still not regularly throwing my own stuff together, but I'm getting better at trusting myself.

Here's what I've created recently that came out quite well.

Carmelized tofu
I wanted yummy tofu one night, but I didn't want to work too hard, so I went looking for a recipe. I found this one for caramelized tofu, but as I don't like cilantro and didn't have pecans and didn't want to mix it with veggies, I did it this way:

I put some olive oil in a skillet on med-high. Once it was hot, I added tofu that was cut into thin strips -- about 1" wide by 3" long by 1/4 " thick and let it get golden. I then added garlic (probably quite a bit more than the recipe calls for) and let it cook for a minute or so and then added three tablespoons brown sugar and stirred it all up. Once the sugar looked stuck onto the tofu, I took it out and we ate it and it was yummilicious! The next time I make it, though, I will press the tofu first, so it is a bit more durable. A lot of it fell apart when I stirred it after adding the sugar.

Potatoes and carrots without the roast beef
I was craving the taste of potatoes and carrots with roast beef, only without the roast beef, so I decided to try and simulate it, and it worked pretty well -- as far as I can remember, that is. I haven't had beef in about 10 years. Here are directions if you'd like to try it too:

Quarter several buttercream potatoes and cut baby carrots (real ones, not the slimy manufactured things you can buy in bags) into about 2-3" lengths and put that all into an 8x8" glass dish.
Dissolve one Not-Beef cube in one cup of boiling water (this was double-strength) and pour that over the potatoes and carrots.
Bake at either 350 or 400 degrees (cannot remember) for about 1 to 1-1/2 hours until the potatoes and carrots are soft.
Remove potatoes and carrots with a slotted spoon, leaving the liquid in the dish. Add about 1 tbsp flour and mix until it thickens. Pour this "gravy" over the potatoes and carrots and stir gently.

Next time, I might add some quartered sweet onions and maybe some mushrooms.

Mushroom gravy
For this one, I used this recipe from Isa Chandra Moskowitz. I love her recipes; they always come out yummy, although she sometimes uses ingredients that I simply don't have the time to hunt down. Anyway, this was the best vegan gravy I've had. It only made enough for about 2-3 people, though.

My variations: I don't like the texture of shitake mushrooms, never eat them. So I used an 8 oz package of plain ol' regular button mushrooms, sliced thinly, and no cremini mushrooms, either. (I didn't want to drive to the store.) I also did not add the soy milk at the end as I was afraid it would thin it out too much.

I knew you were a star when

2009-10-07T22:57:00.001-05:00

In Aisling's second grade class, each student gets to be "Star Student" for a week. As part of this, the student's parent(s) write(s) a letter to their kid and emails it to the teacher for her to read to the kid. This is what I wrote for Aisling.

I knew you were a star when
you were still in the womb
turning and pushing, not submitting
when I tried to move you,
and I knew you were strong.

I knew you were a star when
you were one year old and
you would pull all your books into a pile and read
even though you didn’t know the words
(and they were sometimes upside down),
and I knew you were curious.

I knew you were a star when
you were two years old and
you would concoct amazing
stories with your stuffed animals
creating your own little world,
and I knew you were imaginative.

I knew you were a star when
you were three years old and
you gave your grandmama
directions home from daycare,
and I knew you paid attention.

I knew you were a star when
you were four years old and
you couldn’t watch Elmo in Grouchland
because it made your heart hurt
to see Elmo yearn for his lost blankie,
and I knew you were compassionate.

I knew you were a star when
you were five years old and
you asked me what “suffered for his sanity”
meant in the song Starry Starry Night and
you understood my answer,
and I knew you were smart.

I knew you were a star when
you were six years old and
Daddy and Liam were trying everything
they could think of to pop a
soy-sauce baggie on the driveway and you said,
“or … you could cut it open and just
pour it on the driveway,”
and I knew you were funny.

I knew you were a star when
you were seven years old after
Grandma Mary died and
you wrote Farfar letters telling him
you missed her and
you asked about his day,
and I knew you were kind.

I knew you were a star when
I handed you my heart and promised
to love you forever and ever.

Mom

Respect and heartbreak

2009-10-07T22:19:00.004-05:00

I went to a funeral a couple weeks ago for our rabbi's father. There was a cortege from the synagogue to the cemetery. I had never been part of one before, had only seen them occasionally. I did not know that people on the other side of the street pull over and stop when you go by.

Now, I already cry when people pull over when an ambulance or fire truck to go by. The idea that all these people are pulling together to help someone else is so beautiful, it makes me cry. I know it's the law, sure, but it doesn't matter. It's still people working together for someone they don't even know and never will know.

But in this cortege, seeing those cars pull over, I could not stop crying. (If I had been alone, I would have sobbed.) There was no reason for these people to stop. None at all. It was simply a gesture of respect, an acknowledgment that we all experience heartbreak. It was two minutes out of their day to show respect for people they did not know and never would know.

What could be more uplifting than simple, heartfelt gestures like this?

See you later, Swayze

2009-09-14T21:00:00.003-05:00

I was surprised at how sad I felt to hear about Patrick Swayze's death. He's just an actor. And not one I particularly followed. So I was curious why I had such a poignant reaction. I think it's because he played roles that filled young women's dreams of romance. I mean, who didn't want to be Baby in Dirty Dancing? Or have someone so dedicated as in Ghost? He portrayed the modern knight in shining armor.

And, man, it was nice to watch him move.

$100 for 100 strips

2009-09-12T15:08:00.004-05:00

I had to buy test strips for my glucose meter the other day. They were $100 for 100 strips. ?!?!?!?!

We have the money to spend on these. But what about people who don't? What do they do? Granted, test strips are not drugs that you're required to take or you die (although I know there are those cases, too), but they are required for monitoring the condition so you can change your diet and exercise as needed. And for people who have to take drugs to control their sugars, these strips are necessary to ensure they're taking the right amount over time.

The strips are not covered by insurance (at least, they're not covered by mine, which seems to be better than most), and they are $1 per strip. So every time you test your sugars, it's $1. I want to charge the company every time I get a bad strip and have to redo the test with another strip.

But that's not all . . . They expire. So if you don't use them in time, you get to throw away all those dollars.

I wish I could take this $100 and buy some shoes or earrings, something that I can enjoy. Or even put it toward a family vacation -- $100 is about half of a Southwest ticket to just about anywhere from KS.

Instead, I get to buy strips.

The Purr

2009-09-12T14:59:00.002-05:00

The other day, I did 15 minutes of yoga after my walk. I ended with shavasana (corpse pose), where you lie on your back and relax everything. (Aside: it's really cool. I can feel my energy pulsing all around me. I keep waiting for someone to tell me I'm glowing while I do it. :-) )

During my yoga time, Mushroom (my little black cat) was rubbing all over me, standing up against me -- basically doing everything she could to get my attention (and she's typically one of those aloof cats who will only deign to let her pet you). So when I did shavasana, lying there on my back, she climbed up on me and lay down on my chest, her tail at my pelvis and head at my neck.

And she was purring. Not so you could hear, but I could Feel* it in my chest. It was such a magical feeling, this rumbly purr echoing from her to me. It made me feel so connected to this other creature, so connected to life. It was wonderful.

* I did not intend to capitalize this, but decided it was appropriate.

Not so good

2009-09-06T21:53:00.002-05:00

So it turns out I'm not so good at keeping a blog after all. :-) So now that I'm ultra busy, I'll try again. I've always been better at getting things done when I don't have time to do everything.

So why am I so busy? Because I've decided to go to nursing school! I have about a year of prereqs to finish so I started those at the local community college. All the classes are online, which is probably the only way I could do it.

So I'm taking Statistics, Anatomy and Physiology, and Human Development. Statistics is awesome. It was the class I was most afraid of as almost everyone I've talked to has said it is horrible. But I am enjoying it very much. For one, the instructor is uber-organized. We have a spreadsheet showing exactly what we should be doing each day of each week, and we can get as far ahead as we want. The math part is a bit tedious, and it really sucks when you make one stupid mistake that messes *everything* else up (I set up spreadsheets to avoid that problem), but I really like the precision of it all. Maybe I need more precision in my life. :-) And, it stretches my brain. I have to work at it ... but not so hard that I hate it.

A&P, on the other hand, I thought I would love. And I do find it incredibly interesting. However, the professor is totally uninvolved. I know what chapters the tests are over and that is it. So I am reading and memorizing ... all on my own. Fortunately, I know how to learn and I have a photographic memory. But I feel sorry for all the students who don't. There's no direction at all. Which is totally unprofessional.

As for Human Development, it's booooooorrrrrrriiiiiing. And the class doesn't make it any more interesting. Nothing more to say on that!

As for why I want to go to nursing school (cause this post isn't long enough yet!) -- I have always been fascinated by the human body. Thought about medical school a few times in my life, but something always came up to prevent it. So one day I realized that I didn't want it enough; if I did, I would have made it happen. But I do want to be involved in health care. Thus, nursing school. And as soon as I made that decision, things started falling into place. It was like the universe had agreed with me. If everything works out, I'll start in fall of 2010. And since I want to be a nurse practitioner, which will require a PhD as of 2015, I'll be in school for quite awhile. My dream would be to work with a naturopathic physician. I think. There's so much choice, I need to learn more.

Oh! And I'm taking the Jewish community conversion class, which lasts a year. But more on that later. :-)

My Neck

2009-02-01T21:38:00.000-06:00

(Initially posted on Facebook in October)

Got the results of my MRI today. Apparently I have a congenital defect -- the C2 and C3 vertebrae are partially fused.

There is disk bulging at several points, and spurring at several places produces "slight contact with the anterior cord and deformity." There is also narrowing and some "rotational" stuff (not sure what that is).

And most interesting to me because I have NO idea what it means: The tip of my odontoid lies quite close to my clivus. (I'm writing this straight from the report. I didn't even know I had a clivus and odontoid. Certainly wouldn't have put them in my neck if someone asked where they went.) I really like that sentence, though: The tip of the odontoid lies quite close to the clivus. It tickles me.

So I'm going to get a CT scan next, and my doctor has referred me to a neurosurgeon. Whee. I got my MRI films today -- neat. Although I can't tell what everything is, I can see my brain. I've seen all sorts of pictures of brains, but this one is *my* brain. It's weird how that makes a difference.

But anyway, in short, this is all my parents' fault. :-)

Oh! And I found out that the itchiness that I always got when I took hydrocodone is actually an allergy to codeine and I'm not supposed to take it anymore. You know, I knew that itchiness indicated allergies -- I even took an antihistamine every time I took hydrocodone. But I guess it just never connected. Anyway, my doc says no more codeine. Darn. :-)

The Boot Saga

2009-02-01T21:30:00.002-06:00

(Initially posted on Facebook in September)

So I found these awesome boots on Zappos. I love boots; they're all I'd wear if I could. (With clothes, that is.) These particular boots were dark cherry red patent polyurethane, knee-high (and waterproof!). Gorgeous. But did I need them? Not sure. So I put them in my cart and left them there ...

I realized about a week later when I was talking about "my" boots as if I'd already bought them that it didn't matter if I needed them. They were mine. Body, heart, and soul. So I ordered them.

Now Zappos has one of those really cool systems where they save your information so all you have to do is click "Order" and you're done. No pesky forms to fill out or credit card information to enter. You just click order, and that's it. Voila! Boots are on their way.

It would have been nice if I had realized that when I clicked that "Order" button, because as I did so, I realized that they still had my old address. No big deal, right, I have to enter my new address anyway, right?

No! Ahhhhh! Stop that internet message! Ahhhh. It went through. What to do?!?? #&^*!@%

OK, breathe. Stop panicking. (The order just went through! No pesky (or in my case, necessary) forms to fill out. No red tape. It. Just. Went. Through.) Kersplickety!

Well, that's ok, I thought. (Deep breath) The address doesn't match my credit card anymore, so they'll kick back the order and say it can't be processed and then I can enter my new information.

Fuduggit! The order went through! What to do? What to do? Oh! Look! They have a live 24/7 chat; I'll just log on there ... and wait ... and wait ... and wait some more ... until I finally get the message that something's wrong with their chat system.

Ok, not the end of the world. I'll send them an email: Dear Zappos, I just ordered some uber-cool boots, but my old address was in your system. Can you please change it to my new address (inserted here).

(Aside: as I was writing this message, I received one from Zappos saying my order had been expedited. Normally, a good thing. In this situation? Not so good.)

A very nice customer service person named Zach wrote back (very quickly too) to say that, sorry, the order had already been processed, so no, they could not change the address. (Already processed?! In twenty minutes? Who the hell do they have working for them and why aren't they working at my local Taco Bell?!?!?!) But, Zach wrote, it's no problem, just call Zach in the morning and he (or some other customer service person) can contact UPS and have UPS change the address. Easy-peasey, right?

No! After I called the next morning to get this sorted out, I received an email saying that they had upgraded my order from ground to overnight so UPS could not change the address as it was too far into the system. Ahhhhh! Normally, awesome. Now, BAD.

But, since zappos couldn't get it changed, they gave me a proactive refund. I love zappos for being so understanding, but I don't want the refund, I want my boots!! If they get returned, please send them to me! I'll even pay for shipping!

OK, only thing left to do is go by the old house (weird) and ask for my boots. As soon as I could (didn't think it would be right to go by after dark -- don't want them to think some creep is at their door), I went by there. And guess what? The day before, the new owner took them back to UPS! AHHHHH!

First, how can someone be so on top of things?! Didn't she ever hear about leaving something for two weeks until she finally got around to doing something about it? Sheesh. Second, if it were me in her situation, I would have called my realtor (after about two weeks, the standard let-something-sit-around time) and asked him to call their realtor to find out where the boots should be sent. Easy, right? Apparently, not.

So now, my boots are back in UPS hands and I don't know what they do with unwanted packages. So I called the local UPS store to find out. UPS store gave me the 800 number for UPS ... which turned out to be an adults-only porn line. AHHHHH! (For real) (I hung up before the warning message ended.)

Turns out UPS store guy had transposed two of the numbers. Finally got the right number and called to find out that my boots were in UPS custody and were being held until I could get there to release them ... during normal business hours, of course.

Next day, first thing, I went to UPS. Got my package. Put it in the trunk. Figured after all I went through, if they didn't fit, the rest of my day would be ruined. So I got my other errand done (returning the #6 dvd (that was left in my dvd player) from a dvd series that I had already returned (two weeks before ... note the standard two-week let-it-sit-around time) that they were going to charge me $89.99 for ... what?!?!?!?!) and had a meeting with my boss, and then went home to try on my boots.

As I opened the package (after debating whether I should eat lunch first), I wondered whether they would look as good in the flesh as they did online. What if they didn't? Could I really return them after all the fuss?

I opened the box, peeled away the paper and .... they were (are) gorgeous. Shiny, dark red. Glossy. Passionate. Just what I look for in a good pair of boots.

Now the real test ... would they fit? I first went upstairs and got a couple pairs of socks. Have to be sure, you know. And then I pulled them on.

And they fit! Wah-HAH! HA-HA!!!! HA HA HA HA!!! After all that, they fit!!!

So I now have a perfect pair of shiny, cherry red, waterproof boots to "walk all over ... you." (I'll only walk (or, rather, frolic -- one cannot merely walk in such fabulous boots as these) in puddles, actually)

Ha! This will be the start of a beautiful relationship.

Dragon Update

2009-02-01T21:24:00.004-06:00

In a last-ditch (and reluctant -- I only did it because I felt sorry for the people who must be missing Dragon) effort to find Dragon's owners, I took him to our vet to see if he had a microchip. I figured declawed, neutered, and in great shape (clean ears!) that there was a good chance.

The vet tech at the office said that it's rare for a cat to be chipped, but when she ran the little chip reader over him, it turned out he did have one. (While she was writing down the number, he escaped and went gallumphing around the office. But then, what safer place to escape in than a vet's office?)

Unfortunately, the chip wasn't registered, so she gave me the name and number of the place that had inserted the chip. When I called them, the woman on the line had me read the number twice. Then she said, "Well, this says he's a dog." Hm. I said back to her, "No, he is most certainly not a dog." (She did not laugh. I thought it was funny. Go figure.) A moment of silence and then she says, "Well. I don't know what to do now."

So we kept the cat. Decided he was sent to us to fill the cat space left in our hearts when Mannan died.

Dragon (The Cat)

2009-02-01T21:18:00.002-06:00

(Initially posted on Facebook in September)

So, yes, we (I) "rescued" a cat. Normally, I don't think anything of cats prowling the hood. I mean, that's normal, right? But when I saw this one, a cat I'd never seen before, trying to claw our tree, it was obvious that he was declawed.

Now, I have always been under the impression that declawed cats should be indoor cats, so I went to check him out. No tag, neutered, confirmed declawed, and in great shape. So someone must be missing him, right?

Since I've seen coyotes around here, I thought it best to bring him in for the night, and I stayed up late making a flyer. Next morning, I taped the flyer to all of the community mailboxes in our area.

And no response. He's super affectionate -- aggressively so -- he'll just throw himself (literally) in your lap, totally contemptuous of gravity. He wants to be friends with our other cats (i kept them separated for awhile but his plaintive yowling wore me down), and he's indifferent to the dogs, one of which *really* wants to play with him. (Admittedly, she *really* wants to play with everything and everyone.)

And then Aaron went and named him! If no one comes forth soon, I'm afraid we may have a third cat. Unless you want him ....

About Time

2009-02-01T21:13:00.002-06:00

I figure it's about time I started a blog, so here goes. In order to populate it and feel less daunted by needing to populate it, I'm gonna go back through some of my more memorable (to me) emails and posts and paste them here. So you may have read much of what goes on here initially, but I hope that you will enjoy them (again).