On the Menu

I've been thinking about food quite a bit lately. Is it because I'm watching the number on the scale go up here at the end of this pregnancy game? I mean, I'm eating all the food, and it shows. Check out this side-by-side, or top-to-bottom.

This is me at 38 weeks. 

This is me at 39 weeks

So... there's that. Also, photographic evidence that this baby has not dropped. April is right around the corner, so I'd like her to start moving down. You know, prepping to move out. Anyway, back to the food discussion.

When J & I first got married, I was pretty good at meal-planning. (*toot-toot* that's my own horn!) I had a spreadsheet with our favorite meals laid out, and I was teaching myself Access so I could make a database. It's the kind of geek that I am. Somewhere along the line I got busy, or lazy, or bored with the 12 or so meals that we knew how to cook and I stopped doing it. Recently I've been trying to get back into the habit. A few weeks ago I tried two new recipes from Food on the Table. Thankfully, they both worked out & J really liked them. Hooray. The site is a success. The only problem is J and I were rarely home at the same time to eat together. Our commitments were on conflicting nights and blah blah blah.

Now, however... I'm home! And I have time! So, I'm trying again. Only, now I'm trying to plan in advance a freezer full of things that take little to no brain-power to make our lives easier. I've already made 2 batches of these enchiladas for MDM & KRho (to really good reviews--I have yet to eat any myself), only... I'm bad at following recipes. I cooked some chicken breasts in the crock-pot overnight with a can of Rotel (the regular kind, not the super spicy kind), and for the first batch, I skipped the enchilada sauce completely, instead using the juice from the crock pot. The second batch I just poured some on top. Third batch... as yet undecided.

So, I've got some pre-fab pasta sauce and pasta, a batch of enchiladas, two pre-seasoned-just-throw-in-the-oven tenderloin thingies (one chicken, one beef). So far, I'm resisting the temptation to just stock up on chicken nuggets and french fries. I figure the days when those become necessary freezer staples are coming & I shouldn't hasten them.

Now, gentle readers! Give me your recipes! Crock-pot gems. Things that require no brain-work, skill, or excess time.

And, an update on J! He's fine. He's recovering really, really well. So far, it looks like he may have avoided the permanent nerve damage part of things, so that's really, really, really good news. Also, here's a picture of the offending tooth.

See it there, on the bottom right? Yeah. Icky.

Thank you all for your prayers though. He's already eating mostly real food (soft, but not purees) and hasn't been on drugs 24/7, so I'm very grateful. For some truly suck-tastic timing, things have gone amazingly well.

Also, I've gotten to have my husband home for a week! A whole week! Even sickly, it's been a treat. 

Now, to go retrieve my car from the shop. nearly $900 in regular maintenance and replacement parts later, she'll be as good as new, just in time to be carrying around a wee person. Hear that, Freckle? Nice clean, safe car! Leather seats! A sun-roof! Head towards the exit now and make your debut in 4 days or so. (I really would like her to get here in time for Easter. I have a great dress with matching bonnet and booties for her to wear. I mean, she can't avoid wearing it. I'm going to put her in it, Easter or not, but it would be really nice to have her in it for a picture in a little Easter basket, right? I mean, cute overload... assuming she cleans up nicely after that whole birth thing.)

It Pours

So...

39 weeks (tomorrow) and still pregnant. I'll think about taking a picture tomorrow.

Here's the awesome news-
J got promoted at work. It's the position he's wanted to move into for a while now. It's a step in the right direction on his career path. There is more money with this job and a greater opportunity for J to work from home--both awesome things with the loss of my income and an impending baby. The ONLY downside is leaving the team-lead he's been working for the past 3 years, who is wonderful, understanding, and meshes with J's personality perfectly. Oh, also, he was supposed to start his new roles & responsibilities today. (Spoiler alert: he didn't)

Here's the not-so-awesome news-
J is getting a wisdom tooth taken out tomorrow. A wisdom tooth that is completely sideways and so deep in the bone that permanent nerve damage is considered "likely." Thankfully it's just a feeling nerve, not a motor nerve, so it's just permanent numbness on one half of his lower lip & jaw, no loss of speech or motor function. Still, for a singer, that's a scary thing.  They'll do a bone graft too because apparently there's been enough bone loss already that his other molar tooth is in danger. Yes. We found all this out today. He's been home since Friday, on some heavy-duty pain medication, and pretty much as miserable as I've ever seen him. Also, did I mention that I'll be 39 wks pregnant and at my OB appointment while he's having this tooth ripped from his skull? Oh, and that opening weekend of Scarborough Faire is next weekend? Tomorrow will be his 2nd to last rehearsal with his band, including a brand new member they're trying to bring up to speed to help cover J's parts while he's out helping me with a baby, and possible in Canada for 2 weeks in early May training for this promotion thingy. Yeah. Best timing ever, right?

The good thing is his family is very near, so his mom is going to step in and take him to the appointment (and hopefully I'll be able to pick him up from the appointment). My parents also being very near are available should anything crazy happen at my appointment. I don't expect craziness. I haven't even had enough Braxton-Hicks contractions to be sure I know what contractions are like and fully anticipate being completely clueless when labor starts. Which, more than ever, I'm hoping doesn't happen until April. J's recovery time is conservatively estimated at 7-10 days. With a due date 8 days away, a baby a few days late doesn't sound so bad right now.

Please be praying for us. Insurance is covering 80% of the extraction, which is good, but none of the anesthesia or bone graft. Thank God we filled up our flex spending account for this year, so we're still covered. We're hoping the surgery goes as smoothly as possible, but this tooth man... this tooth is in the worst possible place. I pray my husband's amazing healing powers kick in and he's back up & running (or in his case, singing & dancing) as soon as possible. Also, that I stay pregnant as long as possible to keep from adding even more complications into the mix.


Weeeee! Gonna be a fun week!

The week of 3 Wednesdays and other pointless taless

Last week was The Week of 3 Wednesdays. It started out innocently enough. Monday came and went as expected. All the normal Monday-ish things happened like they were supposed to. Then I went to bed and woke up on Wednesday. It must have been Wednesday, because I had my doctor's appointment that day, and for many weeks those appointments have been on Wednesday. Thus, logically doctors appointment=Wednesday. I went on about my day doing my normal Wednesday things until about 8pm when I got a text from my sister B asking why I wasn't at dance. I almost replied "because it's Wednesday!" (dance is on Tuesday), but then I realized it wasn't Wednesday. Because that morning I'd had a similar conversation with my husband when I asked him why he was taking his guitar to work. He said it was because he had rehearsal that night. I said asked why and he said, "Because it's Tuesday." But I then went back to sleep and forgot the whole thing. Then the real Wednesday happened. I wore this shirt. 'Cause it's Wednesday!

Then! the next day... it was Wednesday too! Because we had to go to the hospital for our "learn how to have and care for a baby" class. And those are on Wednesdays. Well, the first class was. The second class (Lamaze, y'all. I... I know. It's crazy) was actually on Thursday, but it didn't FEEL like a Thursday, even though the day before had been Wednesday, because I didn't have Lace rehearsal. Lace rehearsal is on Thursday. Except this week, it had been moved to Friday, but that meant that my class was still on the day before Lace rehearsal, so of course that made it Wednesday. You see the logic there, right? It all makes sense.
Then it was Thursday, then Saturday and the week got all messed up and now I don't even know what day it is.

Leftover People
Ok, so in my attempt to become a better person through meal planning, I must take baby steps. It seems that the first one would be to plan some meals, then cook the meals and ta-da! There you go. Unfortunately, things aren't working out that way. I used to do this so well. When we first got married I had a spreadsheet and a database and all sorts of plans. Then... something unidentified happened. We got more social, or something. Now, meal planning is made difficult by 2 things. Thing 1: We're only home together to eat the same meal one night a week, and maybe the weekend. Thing 2: We're really bad at eating leftovers. So, when I do get up the give a squat to actually cook, I can never manage to just make enough for 2. Mostly because "enough for 2" is a very vague and changing quantity in this house. J can eat like a rhinoceros at times, but other times (when he's on his ADD meds) he barely has an appetite at all. All of this to say that leftovers happen. We should then take them to work or eat them for lunches or the next night, or on a pre-approved "clean out the fridge" night, but... we don't. We're just not thoughtful about it. We need to fix that. We need to become leftover people.

Natural Woman
For a long time I've been trying to get my hair back to it's natural color in the dumbest and least-patient way possible--with dye. This is... problematic to say the least. What I remember my natural hair color being is... a weird shade of red. It's like the dirty blonde version of red. Dirty copper? I don't know. Anyway, based on highly technical things like pictures and the fake hair that perfectly matched the last time my hair was it's own color (5-6 years ago) I've been trying to get back to that, because I don't really feel like letting my hair color grow out for 3 years. I've resisted saying "just make everything match my roots" because they didn't look the right color. I know that sounds stupid, but they were too dark. My hair maybe gets lighter as it grows out? I dunno, but I remember having darker roots than ends for a long time, but the color in the middle is the color I think of as mine. But I finally got tired of all the highlights and touch ups and blah blah blah so I went in and finally said "just make everything match my roots" and... it was dark. Way darker than I ever remember my hair being. That was in October, days before The Blathering. I haven't had my hair colored since then. My hair is all still the same color. With some grey bits. SO... apparently the kind of dark-honey-amber-reddish color I remember is gone. Now I'm a slightly reddish brunette. WEIRD.

That looks awful!
There is something strangely comforting in hearing your doctor say those words. There's the validation of knowing that I'm not being a totally whiny brat. There is reason to be uncomfortable and I made the right decision to go see the doctor and have it checked out. On the other hand, it would have been nice to hear "Oh, yeah, we can clear that right up!" instead of "Oh... I mean... oh!" I adore my doctor, by the way, so... you know... she can say stuff like that.

Unemployed and Pregnant
So... the "BIG NEWS" of today is that I sort of, kind of got laid off. I mean, I'm a contract person, not an "employee" so it's a little different, and my contract is with Company A, who contracts with Company B, whom they bill to pay me. Company B terminated its contract with Company A, effective 2/25 (plus a 25 day "finish it all up" period). So... if I actually have work to do that whole time, that comes out to March 21st, which is only 10 or so days away from my due date, so that's not so bad. The thing is, work has been slow for a while. I haven't worked a 40 hour week in longer than I can remember, so the income that's coming in is already reduced. We've been making it work, and we will continue to make it work, but it's an adjustment at a time when I'd really like to be spending a lot of money on things for this baby to sleep on and what not. I guess it's better to have my income taper of gently rather than just abruptly stop. It does sort of answer the "will you be going back to work after baby?" question for a bit, since I won't have a job to go back to. Finding a new one as a new mom should be... exciting. I don't know yet if that's what I'll do. If we can make this one-income thing work and I can learn to be a mom who is at home, I'm totally willing to give that a shot. Still, I'm praying that J gets the promotion he just applied for. That would help a little.

A good day

It's no surprise to anyone who knows me that I've been a bit... nervous about this whole pregnancy thing. Even though I got a clean bill of health at my last physical, things didn't go exactly according to my ultimate and perfect plan. You can go ahead and laugh at that. It is funny. But I had a plan. Or at least... strong wishes.

Gaining 30lbs when I stopped taking birth control certainly wasn't on my list. That fact pushed me into a whole new category as far as the evil BMI is concerned, and if there is any time in the history of ever that you want to be at your absolute best physical condition, I'm pretty sure it's when you're trying to grow another human inside you. Or run a marathon, or lift things twice your weight for fun. Those seem like good times to have all your fecal matter aggregated.

I considered waiting until I could more perfectly get my poop in said scoop before trying. As you can tell, I decided against that plan. I went with the "do what you can while you try" plan. There were lots of vitamins and an increase in my WiiDR time and more fresh veggies and less french fries. You know, those kinds of good things. Then, there was Freckle, and oh did I find 100 new things to worry about. I worried that my body wouldn't do what I wanted it to (grow a healthy baby) or there would be complications. Now, I realize that I am by no means out of the woods yet, so I don't mean to toot my own horn as though everything from now on is smooth sailing and fine and all my worries will be gone. No. Not true.

However, there is something so incredibly satisfying about hearing your doctor say, "You've been taking really good care of yourself! I'm so proud of you." Yeah, she said that. I may have gotten a little misty-eyes because you guys? Being "healthy" isn't really something that I excel at. I excel at indulgence, not self-control. So, I was worried about taking the glucose tolerance test today.

I was worried that the drink was going to be so gross I would get sick (it wasn't, I didn't). I worried that I would fail miserably (I didn't). In fact, the drink was... bearable and I passed. Not just passed, but my numbers were "awesome." My doctor called me a superstar. No anemia either, so hooray for that. Freckle continues to grow right on schedule--she's 1lb 12oz now.

Which totally blows my mind because I have friends whose little girl was born at 25 weeks, 1lb 4 oz, 11.3" long--and is HOME NOW. 4 months old, barely a month past her original due date, and growing, thriving and generally kicking butt with pink bows upon her head. I can truly say that I just can't imagine. I mean, when it happened, I knew it was early. Really early. Scary early. Now... now I have just the littlest glimpse at just how early that really is, how blessed that family is, how wonderful a gift little Sarah is.

I'm going to stop talking about THAT now, because I've had enough of the weepy. Really, the past few days have been full of a lot of... whining! No other word for it. I got a cold, I was tired, etc., etc., etc. But today... today is a good day.

3 months in a quick recap

So, much like Temerity Jane, I have been keeping secrets from you. It happens. Also, like TJ, I'm going to recap things.
Here's what you missed:

Wk 1- I went to my folks place to celebrate the 4th of July and floated around in their saltwater pool drinking Rahr beer and feeling totally indulgent. I wasn't really pregnant. Pregnancy math is crazy & starts 2 weeks before anything actually happens. Anyway, I didn't have sunscreen on my legs. I got sunburnt.

Wk 2- I found out that a good friend was pregnant! Hooray! I was happy & excited. I still wasn't pregnant. I really wanted to join that club. The "internal baby" club. It leads to membership in the "produced offspring" club, which I was also interested in becoming a member someday. So there was happy, but also some sad. I also filled out my questionnaire for The Blathering

Wk 3- I found out that 2 more friends were having babies. I had no idea that technically I was a member of the club too. I was still very happy and excited for them. I did spend some time reflecting on that--my desire to be a mom, to have a baby, to have kids, to raise children... those are all different things by the way. Anyway, I was a little sad, but just for me. Does that make sense? I was happy for them, and wouldn't change anything about their situation. I just wanted to join them.

Wk 4- I peed on some sticks. I was pretty convinced I already knew the answer was no, because I'd been hearing my girlfriends talk about all their early symptoms and warnings and I had none of those. But I had some sticks ready to pee on, because I'm the hopeful type.  I peed on a stick. I giggled. I couldn't stop smiling. I prayed prayers of "thank you, thank you, thank you" and "help me, help me, help me." I made a little card for my husband and manufactured a reason to stop by his office on my way out to my folks place since I had the day off. He proposed to me in my car, so it was sort of fitting that I'd tell him the good news in his car (which I was driving, but not when I was doing the telling. I was parked at that time, just to be clear). I spent the rest of the week and part of the next peeing on sticks every 2 days just to be sure. I think I stopped after 6 sticks. They all came back positive.

Wk 5- When I wasn't peeing on sticks, I realized that it was going to be really hard not to tell everyone everywhere, and at the same time I was trying to keep anyone else from saying anything about it. I wanted J & I to be the ones to get to tell people. People should hear it from us first, you know? It's our news. Word got out anyway. Families aren't the best at keeping secrets. We still kept it a secret from the Internet, so I count that as a win. Well, I signed up for some stuff on the Internet, but in a private type way...

Wk 6- There was a doctor's appointment in here. Everything checked out fine. I thought it would start feeling... "realer" once my doctor said it was really happening. It didn't. It still felt really weird. Not real. Bizarre. Anyway, they came up with April 3rd as an estimated due date. Sure, sounds good so far.

Wk 7- I think I napped at every available opportunity and was incredibly cranky and could smell everything ever. I started turning my nose up at certain foods and keeping crackers by my bed. My niece turned 5 and we had a sleepover with make-up and hair-braiding.

Wk 8- I sort of got "promoted" at work, if by "promoted" you mean "assume the duties and responsibilities of the person who used to share some of your job roles but just left for another company and we're not hiring anyone to replace him, so you can do all the things." It is actually really not bad. I miss Joel, but the work load isn't killer and I still talk to myself, so not too much has changed other than I moved 2 cubes down.

Wk 9- I ate a lot of good food. Also, I went back out to my folks place for more floating in the pool, without a beer this time. The temperature dropped 20 degrees (putting it at a lovely 87!) and I got a cold! There was lots of Kleenex--facial tissue actually, since it was Puffs.

Wk 10- I went to my folks house again for a barbecue and pool party with lots of people I like. I read some books, but not the books I was supposed to be reading for my book club, because I never made it to the library/store, so I read the books that people gave me. You remember that part, right?

Wk 11- J & I celebrated our 5th anniversary. 5 years seems both like a really long time, and also no time at all. I'm pretty sure that's really cheesy and very cliche, but I also don't care. It's true. Every year has sort of felt that way. I look forward to many more years. I read the book for book club. Another friend announced her pregnancy. They've been trying for almost 3 years, and everyone they know knows they've been trying so they get asked a lot how things are going, so I totally don't blame them for announcing 24 hours after finding out, except that I sat there a little frustrated that we were waiting, only because I WANT TO SAY THINGS ON THE INTERNET, but I wasn't ready to tell the Internet yet. Look, it's not rational, it's just the way it is.

Wk 12- Lots of bloggers that I like post about babies, and having them and ask people for stories about how people decided it was time to have them, and how many to have and I found the blog of my roommate for the Blathering & wanted to say like a million "Me too!"s all over her blog, but didn't and the waiting was getting SO HARD... but I was also feeling kind of nervous about telling the whole Internet and what if something was wrong, and I was being a nelly so I decided to wait until after the appointment so I would have pictures and one more time my doctor could tell me that everything was alright and to calm down and be a relaxed human. I also read the entire book for October book club too. Before the September book club meeting, which I missed because I was all queasy & headachy & moody as hell.

Wk 13-  Ok I got confused about the weeks somewhere. I guess technically there's a week 0 that I'm missing, and technically today is Day one of Week 13, so... we'll go with that. There was another doctor appointment, and this time, we got pictures of something other than a spot or a blob. We got this:

I'm totally biased, but I think that's one cute looking fetus right there. For the record, we call it The Freckle, because a) when we found out, that's about how big it was, and 2) with the mix of genes between us, pretty much the only thing we're pretty sure this kid will get is freckles. Kinda hard to escape it with us two pasty, spotted parents.

So there you have it. 13 weeks. Some nausea & fatigue. A cold. Lots of visits to my parents' place... And a baby!

2100 some-odd words to come to a very simple conclusion

So, I've been thinking about food a lot lately. I've been looking for recipes of stuff to make because I'm really bored with the 6.5 things I know how to cook off the top of my head on auto-pilot without thinking about it, and I want to cook more, because I really do enjoy the making & the eating of food. I want to train myself to cook healthier and more balanced meals. I drink skim milk because it's what I'm used to and the other stuff doesn't taste good to me anymore, but I'm not scared of fat in my food anymore. I understand that oil and fat and butter and bacon and sugar have their place in the stuff I eat, but that place isn't front and center. Neither is it banished to a corner feeling guilty. I think that's my health goal--to remove guilt from food in general. And to cook food that I'm happy with because I like creating meals out of stuff that I bought. I don't enjoy the cleaning up afterwards, but I'll cross that bridge when I get there.

Also, lots of my friends are redefining their relationship with food, and telling me about it in their blogs. My sister PaleoJo is treating her whole body in a new way--she's joined CrossFit and is doing things I've never heard of, and completely reworked the way she eats. No grains, no diary, no sugar, in an oversimplified nutshell. While that sounds like torture to me, she's thriving, not starving or feeling deprived. The meals she's photographing look beautiful and colorful and delicious. And here's the important part--she's happy! She's feeding herself well, treating her body well, and she's happy. That's really great. That makes me happy to hear.

My sister B has been working hard for years to follow her passion, which is Highland Games--yeah, that Scottish thing where they throw big rocks and weights and try to flip things that look like telephone poles. And she's good at it. Really good. She travels all around the country to compete, and when she's home, she's working hard to get better--and she does. I hear she & Jo talk about breaking personal records all the time, and that's a milestone that I really love in every way--while B competes against a lot of other women, she's also always competing against herself, and that's the big deal to me. She gets better and better every time she competes, breaking PRs and raising the bar for herself every time. She can also dead lift... well, me! Or the equivalent of a me that is shaped like weights. Which isn't about food, but I got sidetracked & it fits in with the other stuff, so just go with it, ok?

I have 2 friends (Jenn & Jennie, though I'm sure that's just a coincidence) who are runners training for longer runs. Well, Jenn has run lots of half marathons, and I think a full one, and Jennie is training for a half marathon, and I don't know if you know this or not, but marathons are long! Half ones are long too. And running is hard. I have friends doing the Couch to 5k challenge and this paragraph is also about fitness, not food, but it's a health thing and that seems to be the real point of all this.

I have some friends who are exploring the concept of Health at Every Size--focusing on doing healthy things like eating better and being more aware of what they put in their body, moving more and training their bodies to do the things they love-move, walk, dance, without tying themselves to a scale and making it about looking a certain way in or out of their clothes. I mean, B & Jo aren't slaves to the scale either--they have goals that aren't related to looking like a runway model. They are focused on being strong, not skinny. I say all this because I'm hearing about it and it sounds good to me. Appealing. Like most things I want to sort of hodge-podge things together in a way that fits me, who I am, what I like to do, and eat and my goals, but I don't think it's a coincidence that so many of my friends are working on treating and feeding their bodies better.

Several years ago, my friend Andrea, a practicing Catholic, gave up frozen foods for Lent. Well, she gave up frozen lunches/meals/pockets etc. as a way to focus more on eating well. Not because she had a burning desire to suddenly get skinny, but because she was convicted that if her body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, then she wanted to treat her temple well. After Lent was over, she kept it up, eventually getting rid of a lot of processed food from her diet and over the course of a couple of years she lost many dress sizes. That wasn't the ultimate goal, but it was a side-effect of eating better and moving more. She feels like a better, healthier, happier person now. That's the theme that I see echoed across so many of my friends, though not all expressed the same way, but the desire to feed their bodies well, to be kind to their bodies by getting out and running and swimming and lifting weights and jumping up on high boxes. Those things may not seem kind on the surface--this isn't about pampering, it's about nurturing. Sweat and bruises and blisters and aches that come from hard work are GOOD for us. It's inspiring.

Now, I'm not running any marathons, or portions there of, but I am walking & dancing more. I say "dance" in the very loose sense of DDR, which is more aerobics than dancing, but it's set to music and I call it dancing because that motivates me to do it. I take the stairs to work (4th floor). I can't dead lift more than about a gallon of milk, but I am focusing on adding strength and stamina training into the things I like to do, because I want to be stronger.

But back to the food part, because that's where I started, and I'm hungry, so I'm looping back around. These are all pictures taken with my phone in the few seconds before we devoured this amazing food.

There is a restaurant in Lincoln, NE that is worth whatever crazy lengths you might have to go to in order to convince yourself to go to Nebraska, because it is actually a very nice place, but even if you can't imagine visiting the Midwest on purpose, you should go just for Bread & Cup. Kevin had a dream of feeding people for... well as long as I've known him, which is 10ish years now. He taught me to love pesto and once made chocolate pasta that he served with raspberry sauce and powdered sugar. I loved sitting on his porch, and hearing the stories of what inspired him to make whatever we were eating. He grows vegetables & herbs, and food is just so much better when you can cook with stuff you've grown yourself. That same idea is what makes me love his restaurant. I've only gotten to eat there once, but I read the daily specials a lot. There is drooling. Anyway, when I ate there, it was what he calls the Market Meal. He goes to the farmers market in the morning, picks up whatever looks good, and the evening's menu is entirely based on that. Local produce. He buys local meat and does everything he can himself. Makes their own bread every morning. He's learning how to cure meat, so now they make their own bacon & sausage & head cheese...

But that's only half the point. His amazing food is only half of what is so amazing about his restaurant. He really focuses on more than just putting food in front of people. He wrote once about what our eating focus was, and a lot of times it's about fuel-a necessity we need to keep our bodies from crashing. But Kevin didn't want to make a restaurant that was essentially a fill-up station. He wanted to focus on good food. That doesn't mean low fat or low anything actually. For him, good food is food that's grown near to where you're eating it, so you can get it at the best and ripest moment, and eat it moments later. It's about flavor and comfort and having a relationship with the people you're eating with--the food is there to facilitate conversation, to fill more than just your stomach, to satisfy more than just hunger pains.

I agree that food should be more than just fuel. It should be good fuel too, but it's more than that. We celebrate and comfort with food, and that's good. I'm not saying we should use food to anesthetize ourselves and eat when we're sad or angry or frustrated or tired, but I do believe in celebrating achievements with a special dinner. I do believe in comfort foods when you're sick. There's moderation to be had in all of it--fuel and comfort. And all of those foods can be good. Taste good and be good for you. I know lots of folks who have taken their favorite 2-sticks-of-butter recipes and tweaked them so they're healthier. That's great. I also think there is a time and place for 2 sticks of butter. Twice a year in the giant vat of mashed potatoes made for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Everything in moderation, including moderation--so said my father quite often growing up. A little splurge, a little rest, a little treat, when done carefully and wisely, is good for you. So says me.

And I've been thinking about all this lately because I realized the other day, that my tastes had expanded in the past few years to include flavors that I didn't like before. I won't say that I'm a fan of Indian food just because I fell in love with Tikka Masala, but I didn't think there was ANY Indian food that I enjoyed. All curries had me running for the hills with thoughts of fiery mouth pains & intestinal distress. Now I sing ABBA songs to my lunch. I've also been cooking for my niecephews more often lately, and with their dairy-soy-gluten free menu, I was at first completely baffled as to what to feed them. All my food has dairy & wheat in it. Those are my staples. It took some research and a few substitutions, but now I know that I have several easy options for the kids (and their mom) when they come over. That research really opened my eyes to a whole world of other foods that I had never considered before. Now my favorite pasta is made from artichoke flour.

Also, in rereading Traveling Mercies, I had forgotten how much I loved the chapter on Hunger. Anne Lamott was bulimic for a very long time, and in talking with her therapist, she discovers that she has no idea how to feed herself. She knows how to eat, but not how to feed herself. She has to rediscover hunger and learn how to listen to her body to know not only when she's hungry, but what she's hungry for, and then--and this is crazy--she lets herself eat it. She lets herself have Cheetos and chocolate and rice and squash and fruit and all the things that taste good. She listens as she's eating so she knows when enough is enough--which is usually always a lot earlier than we think it will be. That's that whole portion control thing and how our stomach is full 20 minutes before our brain knows it, which is just one more reason to slow down and enjoy your food because you probably don't need as many bites of whatever it is as you think you do. Anyway, she lets herself eat again and learns how to feed herself, and then she calls her thighs "the Aunties" and takes them out to the beach and is kind to them and thus kind to herself, and I love it. I try to be kinder to The Hudge while eating the food that sounds good, tastes good, and is good for me. Then dancing and walking and moving about so my arms and legs and whatnot get some energy out. Like taking the dog for a walk to keep him happy and keeping him out of the chocolate so he doesn't poison himself.

I should be at least as kind to myself as to my dog.

Cancer of the something

Many angry four-letter words come to mind when cancer is mentioned. I believe the people who say if you live long enough, you'll probably get cancer of the something. I'm thinking I might wind up with skin cancer on the tip of my left ear. Even though I'm a fan of and consistent user of sunscreen, I often forget my ears, and that is my driving ear, so it sees the most UV rays...

One of my favorite memories of my time at KLKN was a PSA about colon cancer. This very official, dignified looking man in a suit would come on the TV and announce that there was a new test that had been discovered to determine if you were at risk for colon cancer. You just put both of your hands on the small of your back, then slide them down. If you have a butt, you are at risk. See? Everyone is at risk for cancer of the something.

Cancer wasn't even a part of my life 10 years ago. It existed out there somewhere. I knew some people who had it and it was in my family tree but in the vague and forgettable way of being far enough removed from daily life that I didn't think about it much. I still try not to think about it all that often, because who by worrying ever added a day to their life, right? Still, Cancer seems determined to make the headlines of my daily life.

Years ago it made front page news for the first time with my grandma. My grandma, who makes perfect biscuits and always has Cocoa Puffs for me at the house, was fairly invulnerable in my tender young brain. I was in college and still had all four of the grandparents that I was born with so I was unable to cope with the prospect of losing one. Thankfully, I didn't. The doctors caught it early and cut it out. After chemo, I saw my sweet little grandma without her hair. I think I lost my mind a little bit when she shows up for Christmas with this cute, pixie-ish haircut. It wasn't bad, it just wasn't the haircut she'd had all my life. I vaguely remember when her hair was chocolate brown before it became silvery, but it's always been the same cut and style. Always. It didn't even really click in my brain that the hair I was seeing wasn't her own. Later, she took her wig off to get comfortable. Those of us who were visiting from out of town hadn't seen this before, and there was a collective holding of breath as we realized just what Cancer meant and was doing. Thankfully, my brother married a wonderful woman who'd been through it before and handled that moment with a grace that put the rest of us at ease. That was 7 years ago, and Grandma has been cancer free ever since.

If Grandma getting cancer was front page news, then my dad's diagnosis was one of those stop-the-press ultra-bold headlines that takes up nearly everything above the fold.
I still had four relatively healthy grandparents so I just couldn't wrap my brain around my Dr. Colonel daddy being sick. It was a really scary time that taught me volumes about what true love is. I watched my parents change and adapt their relationship to accommodate a new routine, but not give any ground to Cancer. That new routine involved wonderful things like using the "fancy" dishes and Mama's beautiful bronzewear for any meal we felt like it. We drank the special occasion wine on the couch with cheese and peanuts, because being together was a special occasion. We laughed more and hugged more. We cried more too, but we never let that be the last word. We talked more openly and told the stories we'd always been meaning to tell. It was a beautiful, awful time and I never want to do it again. It's been more than a year since Dad stopped his chemo treatments. Looking at him now, you'd never know that just a few years ago we were updating wills and discussing final wishes. "Stable disease" is a triumph.

I wish that were the last time Cancer made an appearance. I wish it would relegate itself to being an extra with one line. A cameo appearance. I don't want it to be a reoccurring character, and I certainly don't want it to stick around long enough that it gets it's picture and name in the opening credits. Oops, I switched metaphors. I mean, I don't want it to have its own byline. There, I think that's back on track.

Two years ago, Cancer decided to jump from the Family section to Friends. Friends with cancer? That can't be right. Friends aren't allowed to get cancer. Old people get cancer. Family members get cancer. Cancer isn't for young, healthy, vital, laughing friends of mine. I tried to tell Cancer that it was totally out of line, and should leave my friends alone, but it didn't listen. So my friend took herself to get tumors and lymph nodes taken out. She got irradiated, which left little tattooed dots that she's slowly turning into triumphant artwork that shows that she's a survivor. See Cancer, I told you that you picked the wrong girls to mess with.

Just this past week, Cancer decided to visit the other side of my family and a good friend's mother lost her fight with the beast. Many angry four-letter words come to mind when cancer is mentioned. Cancer sucks and cancer is mean but I can't seem to keep it out of my life. I dread that conversation where someone says they found a lump, or a routine check revealed a spot. Lumps and spots are dumb. I don't like them, but I can't wish them away.

So get your parts checked regularly. All of them. If you've got habits that increase your risk, cut it out. Use your fancy dishes and make special occasions a regular occurrence. Live your life abundantly.

That is all.