Monday, November 16, 2015

NaBloPoMo #16: Eat your vegetables. They're good for you.

I write a lot of notes that I never do anything with. Here's something I jotted down October 12:

I felt sad tonight as I chopped garlic and leeks, and then slid the edge of my dangerously sharp chef's knife under the small pieces to scoop them up and drop them to sizzle in the olive oil already heated in my skillet. I sighed as I sliced a small bunch of Russian kale, a couple of adorable baby bok choys, a few leaves of rainbow chard, a small red bell pepper, and a juicy ripe tomato. Even the act of going to the backyard to clip some parsley and basil to add to the vegetables in the new hot-pink ceramic skillet I'd bought earlier this afternoon didn't cheer me up. Nor did the rich, earthy smell that met me as I stepped back into the bright kitchen out of the twilight. It's too fucking early to be this dark, I thought. Only a little after 7:00. Bleh.

Not the dinner. Compost.
Once the vegetables had cooked to that almost soft but still bright and a little crunchy state, I crumbled in some goat cheese and added a handful chopped pecans. In spite of my low mood, my mouth started to water as I gave the skillet a final stir, salted and peppered it, and then dumped a healthy helping on my plate.

(Note: I know I had a photo of that pink skillet of yumminess, but all I could find was this photo of my compost. I thought it was kind of pretty though.)

I sighed again. Week 20. This is the last week I'll cook dinner from food that had been growing in a garden just hours earlier. The last day everything on my plate except the olive oil, goat cheese and pecans will come from either my garden or my CSA (Community Supported Agriculture).

Already I miss the weekly trip down Silver Lane -- an alley really -- that leads to the Mission of Mary community garden barn and greenhouse where I would fill a milk crate with fresh vegetables and herbs that would more than feed me for the next week. After an almost perfect growing season, my basement freezer looks well stocked with the overflow.

Coraline loves going with me every week to pick up our CSA. We visit with the manager Stephen and his infant daughter, Rosemary, who is 5 months old now. Often he's saved back something small just for Coraline. A cabbage the size of a softball that we'll take home and caramelize with a sweet onion and sliced apples. Or 2 tiny red peppers that we'll stuff with lemon and thyme farmer's cheese I made the week before. Letting someone else choose our vegetables for the week is an adventure. We never know if we'll get mustard greens, kohlrabi, eggplant, squash, sweet corn, butter lettuce .... but we eat it all unless it's spicy. No hot peppers for us. We have, however, learned to love radishes, which we roast with rosemary, lemon juice and salt until they lose their spicy bite and become soft and earthy.

Week 20 is just one more reminder that winter is coming. Not my favorite season. I guess I should count my blessings and be glad I can pull out bags of homemade soup or greens from the freezer to enjoy during those dark months.

My CSA costs me about $425 for 20 weekly shares of vegetables -- a little over $20/week. I don't know if I'd spend that much on vegetables at Kroger or not, but it's worth it for a number of reasons. 1. I bring home vegetables I would never pick up at the store (when's the last time you ate a kohlrabi?), and then I have to eat them. I cook at home more often, and as a bonus, I can eat home-cooked meals from my freezer this winter. In other words, it's healthier. 2. I know this is trite, but Coraline needs to know where food comes from and how to grow it. We grow some in our little gardens, and we can see it growing in the CSA gardens too. She gets excited about trying new foods, and that's certainly better for her. 3. I don't have to do any of the work. The vegetables come to me grown, picked, and even washed. Have you ever broken your back gardening? This is a luxury. 4. Finally, I feel good knowing I'm supporting a worthy cause. It's so obvious to me that we're not going to be able to sustain the way we eat in this country, and we'll have to get back to eating local foods if we're going to survive. Programs like my CSA are moving us in the right direction.

So this is my suggestion that you all consider joining a CSA next summer too, unless you've got a big garden of your own. (My little gardens supplement what I get from my CSA.) If you think you can't afford it, why not put aside $5-10/week, which is the cost of a couple of Starbucks coffees. By the time spring rolls around and the CSA's are selling shares, yours will already be paid for. Just do it. There are CSA's all over the country now. Surely you can find one near you. Do it.

******

And now back to November 15, I got lucky this year. About 3 weeks after I wrote those paragraphs above, Stephen sent out an email and said the season had gone longer than usual, and they had enough for a dozen shares at $12 apiece. First come, first served. I emailed back immediately and scored one of those shares. They sold out fast. Here's what was in it: carrots, chard, cabbage, radishes, beets, tomatoes, butternut squash, acorn squash, and some kale. More than $12 worth of food.

I know I'm being preachy tonight. Don't hate. Food is important -- not only what we eat, but how we grow it and move it around the planet. This is one way you can feel good about what you eat. Let me know if you decide to dump the McD's and join a CSA next summer.

(Note: CSA's aren't only for vegetables. Some offer meat or fruit too.)

Sunday, November 15, 2015

NaBloPoMo #15: Lazy Sunday

I'm going to beg forgiveness tonight, my dear readers. I have some longer posts in the works, but tonight I'm dog tired from a long weekend that started Friday with a 13-hour karaoke party at my house. In between then and now were the post-party hangover clean-up, a chili cook-off (more on that tomorrow), singing in a little family choir with Coraline (her first performance), and pretending I'm a photographer for the installation of our new minister at my church. Did you know even pretend photographers still have to deal with a couple hundred photos when they get home? Damn these digital cameras.

Anyway, I thought I'd share this not-digital photo from 1971 of Hillary Rodham Clinton and Bill Clinton playing volley ball. How cool is that? Would they even have dreamed on that hot summer day that he would eventually serve 2 terms as the President of the United States, and she would stand a chance of doing the same? Not that many kids who want to grow to be the president actually achieve that dream.


And now I'm off to my warm bed where I will probably stay up later than I should reading The Martian. It's a hard one to put down. Have you read it? No spoilers!

Saturday, November 14, 2015

NaBloPoMo #14: Looking for Adam

Recently my friend Roxy Carbuncle posted on Facebook that she'd just discovered her daughter had made her a secret Match.com profile. It was  funny and sweet. Two of her daughter's criteria for her for a man were that he "doesn't hang out at [her] house every day" and that he "would never be mean to [her] children." Roxy found out about it when she started getting emails from Match. And, of course, she deleted the account, but not until after she'd grabbed a few screens.

Kids, right? And then there's this video, which has over 10,000,000 views so far, that a guy named Alex in Norway made 6 months ago of his 69-year-old mother, Eva, so that she might find a man. It's funny and sweet too, and so much better than those dating videos from the 80's. And even has a photo of Eva in a bikini. Watch it, and tell me if you think there's one chance in 10 million that she will find a man who can keep up with her, especially given that most men like to date women who are younger than themselves.



Pretty sweet, right? So far, out of 10 million views, the right guy hasn't shown up. Alex says he'll post a followup when she finds her man.

I hope she finds him. I really do. I just don't think she should hold her breath waiting for him to show up in one of the thousands of emails she's now getting. I know, and know of, so many single, attractive, active, connected, smart women  -- just like Eva seems to be. Just like  .... hey, a couple of those adjectives might even describe me. And there aren't nearly enough single men who share the same adjectives for all of those women to find one, especially the first one: single.

Even if she doesn't find her prince, her son made a charming video, one that will bring lots of shared stories into their lives. That's worth a lot -- maybe worth more than a few lousy dates.

Friday, November 13, 2015

NaBloPoMo #13: Hey, boy ....


As she promised, Coraline was happy, and apparently sticking out her tongue, when the nurses wired her up for her sleep study. My daughter Elvira reported she was not only the youngest but also the best behaved there. Apparently a boy in another room was bothering her with his temper tantrum, so she sat up in bed and yelled, "Hey, boy! Quit being a baby." (Before anybody goes off on the "boys have a right to their feelings too and we need to stop making them repress them" subject, I assure you she would have said the same thing to another girl. She's an equal-opportunity represser of feelings.) Maybe that boy's parents should have shown him the photos of happy kids in sleep studies that I showed Coraline.

Now, fingers crossed they documented her snoring and the instances when she stops breathing. It's tense listening to someone stop breathing every minute or so. You can't ignore that shit, because what if she doesn't start up again? Sleeping with her is like sleeping with an old fat man.

My son Drake had sleep apnea too, starting when he was a newborn. I told his pediatrician he stopped breathing over and over while he slept, but the doctor told me I was just being a nervous first-time mom. Asshole. I know when somebody's not breathing. Having a baby didn't make me a fucking idiot. Also, I'm the oldest of 5 kids. I remember changing my little sister's diapers when I was 5 years old. I was probably the least nervous first-time mother he saw that year.

Finally after 6 years of ear infections and antibiotics and ear tubes, an allergist found out his adenoids were huge and pressing on his airway. No shit! It took 6 years for them to find out what I'd already told several doctors was happening from the beginning.

Anyway, I hope Coraline's doctor gets it right the first time, so we can both sleep better when she spends the night. If I wanted to sleep with a fat old man, I'd get on Piece of Fish and find me one.

Thursday, November 12, 2015

NaBloPoMo #12: Coralineisms #97: Sleep study

Sleep study

Tonight as I write this, my 4-year-old granddaughter Coraline is at a local children's hospital undergoing a sleep study. Since she was an infant she has snored so loudly I need ear plugs when she spends the night with me. And she stops breathing in her sleep, over and over and over. It's obvious to me she needs to have her adenoids taken out, because I've been that route before with her uncle. Unfortunately I'm not allowed to make that diagnosis. Several doctors have to generate income before the cure can happen.

I tried to prepare her for the sleep study. The conversation didn't go exactly as I'd hoped. Who is surprised?

Me: A nurse will stick some pads called electrodes on your skin. And those are connected to lots of wires that will be connected to machines that will tell the doctors what's going on with your body while you sleep.
Coraline: Will I die when they put the wires in my body?
Me: No! No, of course not. The wires aren't going into your body. The wires go into the electrodes that are stuck onto your skin. They send signals to the machines, but you won't feel that.
Coraline: Oh.
Coraline: (Several hours later) When the doctors put the wires in my body will it change my body? Will I have a different body?
Me: No, your body will be the same. And the wires don't go into your body. You won't feel the wires at all. They're outside, hooked up to machines.
Coraline: But will they hurt my body?
Me: No. It might feel weird to have things stuck all over you, but they won't hurt.
Coraline: My body doesn't want wires stuck into it. I think that would hurt.
Stolen from the internet
Me: How about we see what we can find on Google. (We google sleep studies. Thank you Jesus children are smiling in the photos of the sleep studies.)
Coraline: I'm going to smile like this when they stick the wires into my body. (She demonstrates.)
Me: I told you the wires aren't going into your body. See those plastic things? The wires go into those.
Coraline: I'm going to be happy like those kids when I do my sleep study.
Me: Yes, you'll be happy just like that. And maybe after it's done, your doctor will make sure I don't have to wear double ear plugs every time you spend the night.
Coraline: I don't snore.
Me: Said every snorer ever. Trust me. You snore.

Mamá's cloak of invisibility

CoralineMamáMamá, where are you?
Me: I'm right here.
Coraline: Where? Where are you?
Me: At the computer.
Coraline: Are you invisible?
Me: No, I'm right here.
Coraline: I can't see you though.
Me: That doesn't mean I'm invisible.
Coraline: I think it does.

In which I decide to only go down the stairs

Coraline: As we go up the stairs, we're getting bigger.
Me: That's the last thing I need. Are you sure?
Coraline: Yes, as we go up the stairs, we get bigger. When we go down, we get smaller.
Me: Is that how that works?
Coraline: Yes, that's how it works.
Me: I see a lot of going down stairs in my future.
Coraline: OK. But right now you're getting bigger.
Me: Story of my life. I might as well be eating chocolate.

Honesty

Me: You're my favorite girl.
Coraline: You're my favorite grownup.
Me: You say that to all the grownups, don't you?
Coraline: Yes. But you're my favorite grownup right now.
Me: I'll take it.