Rainforest Adventures

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

*** 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

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

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

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

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

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:

1. Boil pasta
2. While pasta is cooking, mix everything else in saucepan over medium heat. Simmer till pasta is done.
3. Coat bottom of 9x13" dish with sauce.
4. Pour drained pasta in dish.
5. Cover pasta with rest of sauce. Mix up a little bit if needed.
6. 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

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

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!

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

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

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:

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

The Vanity Button

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

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

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

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.