Lurching from One Topic to Another, As Usual

Ah, summer. The chirp of crickets, the croak of mating frogs, the searing heat that threatens your sanity. We actually went to the park in the afternoon, with the temperature nearing 100 deg. F (37 deg. C). The boys and a couple of the girls actually played in the sun while Husband and I sat in the van with all the windows open, sweating unattractively. We would have gotten out and sat in the shade of the pavilion, but a big ol' group of people were having themselves a picnic and had claimed all the tables. The pavilion provided the only shade in the entire park, so we stayed in the car. I sat and considered how having a big picnic in the middle of the afternoon on a swelteringly hot day was as much a sign of insanity as going to the park to play.

My husband's nephew is visiting from Wales. He's a tall, strapping lad of 16, and he happens to be attractive and speaks with a lovely, strong accent that is sort of a mix between Welsh and English. Gabrielle, who is his age, has a group of friends who adopted him right away, and the young men in our ward are impressed with his excellent soccer skills. Right now he's with my daughters at a very large pool party for the LDS youth in the city. Between sight seeing with my in-laws, helping FIL in the garden, and being pulled off to various activities with the young people, I hope he has a grand time on his first visit to the States, which extends to the end of August. MIL and FIL have planned to take him to all the best buffet restaurants, as all-you-can-eat places are pretty much non-existent in the UK. Nephew, being naturally thin and sporting a hollow leg, will probably not go home any heavier despite his gastronomic extravagances. If nothing else, the heat will melt all the fat off of him before he gets back to Britain.

Hey, I wonder if I could just cook myself outside for a while and watch the fat melt away...

Speaking of fat and dieting and being tired of thinking about food and feeling guilty about eating certain foods and not eating others, I think I'm finally to the point where I'm starting to lick the dieting mentality entirely. I don't go on a lot of diets simply because I know at the outset that I do not have the will power to stick to them--especially if I know I'm going to feel desperately hungry for days and weeks at a time. But I do have a dieting mentality, and that makes even choosing a snack a long and arduous chore, an act of considering how "good" I am with some foods and how "bad" I am when I slip.

You can actually read too much, I think, and when you take in a lot of information that will naturally help your already healthy sense of shame and guilt over how you take care of your body, and then the information starts to contradict itself and create real paralysis in decision making abilities, it's time to just. let. go.

Remember when I was writing about gratitude a couple weeks ago? I realized something that I already knew intellectually but had not yet learned emotionally. I decided to be sincerely grateful for EVERYTHING in my life, including my body exactly how it is. I mean, this body has birthed six healthy children and kept me from getting sick even when everyone around me has been dropping like flies. I can move and work and play and walk (okay, I can't jog or run, and my hips and back like to scream at me a bit), and I am sincerely grateful for this absolute miracle and gift.

And being grateful has started to open up my understanding and help me see new things. I am looking at food in a different way. I'm responding to my desire to move and exercise as a method of enjoyment of my body rather than a chore I must perform in order to reach a desired weight so I fit whatever beauty standard I think is acceptable.

Introducing Inexplicable Clip-Art

My Friday morning plans were cancelled, so I have a few moments to bother y'all with a new post. Just so you know, I was up and dressed and ready to go. I even had my hair pulled back into a pony tail, which is unusual for me; while it gets my hair out of the way (and it's grown long enough to reach my shoulder blades now), pony tails give me an almost instant headache.

Why the focus on hair style and cancelled plans? Jazzee, our day dog, is moving. Well, her mom is actually the one making that decision, though the way Ruth talks, Jazzee is merely a hairy human and probably has an IQ higher than most people. If Jazzee were allowed her say, I'm sure she would protest. After all, she has her yard and her bed and her basket of toys and she gets to come play with kids during the day. Why in the world would she think of moving away? But Ruth is going to live with her son in a different state, and Jazzee will be going along because Ruth loves her to pieces and can't do without her. Jazzee will adjust because she has one advantage humans do not, hairy or otherwise: she doesn't analyze and dream about the past and the future.

So a bunch of us went to Ruth's house this morning, prepared to haul out the furniture and all the boxes we've been steadily packing for the last two weeks. It's amazing how much stuff one person can accumulate, even when she claims she "doesn't have much."

Anyway, when we pulled up and saw other kind volunteers milling about, we found out Ruth's son was just leaving his house, which is not in this state and which is a lengthy amount of travel time away from where we are. Miscommunication. Plenty of bogus phone calls made based on that miscommunication. So Ruth's moving plans are put on hold until tomorrow, and Jazzee gets a day of reprieve.

This gives me time to explore what I would like to call

Inexplicable Clip-Art

I bought a book of 80s-style clip-art at the thrift store because the pictures amused me. This one, in particular, is ready to tell some sort of tale, so let's explore a little, shall we?

Question:

What child has ever willingly posed for a picture with clowns?

I don't care if it's the circus and your kids are panting with excitement to see the elephants, when the clowns get too close, there's going to be screaming. Who can trust a being with such a huge, fixed, brightly painted smile, weird hair, and a penchant for squirting you in the face with innocent flowers? I think this little girl is secretly crying inside and will probably be scarred for life. Look how she's clutching her doll (which is also a clown, by the way) so tightly to her chest, hoping it will shield her from the clown on her right, who is holding one of those "innocent" flowers.

Her mother is telling her to say cheese, but she's just waiting for the right moment to bolt.

Any small person who is faced with some sort of creepy and unnatural creature is going to have some fears about it. I was the Easter Bunny at a mall for a season some two decades ago, and I can guarantee that no one under the age of seven who was forced to sit on my lap for a cute photo did so without screaming. Some of them even peed their pants, which, of course, wet my fur. Those kids are grown up now and still wondering why they feel vaguely frightened when they see those pictures.

Funny story: my across-the-street-neighbor came in with his girlfriend and paid to have their photo taken while they perched on my knees. How cute and charming of him.

They probably assumed I was a guy, but the much younger and far more slim version of myself was in that overwhelmingly warm and furry costume and horribly heavy bunny head trying not to groan out loud at their combined weight that threatened to break my femurs. I think I'll post that story on his Facebook page right now because I don't think I ever told him about it.

Sir Ken Robinson Says It Better

This, this is what I have thought about concerning education in this country but have not been able to articulate. Fortunately, Sir Ken Robinson is incredibly articulate as well as delightfully amusing.

http://www.wimp.com/escapevalley/

I encourage you to watch it. You'll be enlightened and entertained.

I have frequently thought about this subject because I love to learn but I hate school. I loved school when I first started elementary in our small Idaho town, but I learned to hate it with a burning passion once we'd moved to Northern Minnesota. Why? Because in Idaho, the teachers fed the creative spark that they saw inside me. In Minnesota, I was forced to toe the line.

In Idaho, we still did worksheets and boardwork and all the clerical work that must be done to meet district policy; but during my free times, I was encouraged to explore my love for reading and writing. I was allowed to read books that challenged me, which were far above my grade level (I attribute that to my parents, who refused to allow a television in the home and who read to me from the time I was very small). When I wrote plays, my teachers allowed me to select fellow students to play the parts and rehearse and then perform them during class times.

I felt a constant support from my teachers, who always encouraged me to reach ever further to develop my talents. Even in kindergarten, the teachers would hand us a hammer, some nails, and some wood so we could make things. We were allowed to play with each other for a large part of each school day, and learning was part of the play.

What happened when we moved was like a dark and horrible cloud descending to dampen my enthusiasm. Suddenly, my interests and talents were to be squelched because they did not fit in with the curriculum. Teachers didn't want to know how I was processing and analyzing information into a bigger picture of life; they wanted me to spit back memorized facts and figures so I could pass the tests so the school could get needed federal funds. The fun was gone. My education was no longer about learning how to learn.

So I did what any self-respecting and eager student of life would do: I decided to get my education despite my schooling. I read the classics and listened to the best music (which, again, was bountifully available in my home because I have two classical musicians as parents). I tried to keep that desire to learn more and more alive in myself, and finally I found that school did provide a sort of catalog of what there was to learn about, even if it fell far short of actually teaching me much beyond rote memorization and team projects.

I'm not brilliant or a genius, but I'm happy to say that I absolutely love to learn. I cherish the fact that the more I learn the less I know, and that, to me, is absolutely exhilarating. Just don't give me a multiple choice test, because I still choke.

Gourmet Grilled Cheese Sandwiches

Since I am on a short food theme here (see my last post), I just wanted to let you know that my grilled sandwiches are better than any restaurant's. At least, that's what my husband says, and he isn't one to lie about stuff like that just to make me feel good. For instance, I have yet to perfect my rendering of creme brulee to his exacting standards.

Grilled sandwiches are our staple lunch every Sunday after church. They're quick and easy, and when served alongside a bowl of soup, they satisfy the empty hole inside of you that has developed slowly throughout the three hour meeting block and culminated in embarrassing stomach gurgling noises that make your MIL chuckle quietly to herself during Relief Society.

But grilled cheese sandwiches do get a bit boring week after week, so I play around with them. Those who are adventurous enough like to try out my new concoctions, discussed below.

Making multiple sandwiches is easiest on a large electric griddle, but if you have ciabatta bread and a little time, a George Foreman grill is great for making paninis, or pressed sandwiches (or you can buy a panini press, but then it's only good for paninis. The George Foreman grill is also good for pieces of meat, vegetables, and other stuff you want to grill indoors.).

Cheese is important here, but cheese is expensive, so we usually have medium or sharp cheddar, depending on what's more on sale during any given shopping trip. I like the bite of a good sharp cheddar. I suppose cheddar is a bit like vanilla ice cream--somehow it has turned into the generic flavor--but when you find a good cheddar, there's nothing bleah about it. When I'm feeling crazy, I splurge on Swiss or Gouda. Or Edam. Or a mild Havarti. And pepper jack is amazing in a grilled sandwich. Fresh mozzarella with basil and pesto? Heaven. And I absolutely adore feta. Oh, gosh. Mmmmm. Cheese...

Once you have your chosen cheese, it's time to add stuff. Here are some ideas, and there really is no limit to your choices. Or, rather, the only limit is in how much room you have for your sandwich.

Grilled Cheese Sandwich Add-Ins:

thinly sliced meat (leftover beef roast, turkey breast, chicken breast, pastrami, etc.)
thinly sliced red or sweet onions
sliced cucumbers
thinly sliced apple
chopped herbs like cilantro or parsely
whole basil leaves
any type of pesto
softened cream cheese mixed with blue cheese crumbles
apricot preserves
lingonberry jam
cranberry sauce
sauerkraut
sliced, roasted vegetables, such as zucchini, sweet peppers, summer squash, eggplant, or portabella
mushrooms
sliced, seeded fresh tomatoes
tuna mixed with mayonnaise


Okay, those are just a few ideas, but now I've worked myself up a hunger. As it's lunch time anyway, I'll quit boring you with this particular topic and go make myself a loaded grilled sandwich.

Sing a Song of Pop Corn

I like popcorn and I eat it as a snack on a regular basis. I'm sure this little tidbit of information about me isn't exactly scintillating, but I am trying to encourage my consumption of healthy snacks. I am one of only two people in the house who really likes popcorn, so I never have to worry about leaving my popcorn unguarded and finding it later when there's nothing left but the crumbs and the grannies.

I don't believe microwave popcorn has anything beneficial to offer except a long list of chemical ingredients I can barely pronounce, so I make my own. I also dislike air-popped popcorn because it's hard to give it any flavor without pouring on plenty of oil and butter (I know, I know that air-popped popcorn has fewer calories, but there's just no flavor! It's like eating rice cakes or Melba toast, and what's the point of eating stuff like that unless you're literally starving and don't care about how a thing tastes?).

I cook my popcorn in a pot on the stove and it takes all of five minutes. (At one time, naive and less skilled in the kitchen, I went to Bed Bath & Beyond and actually bought an on-the-stove popcorn maker for over $20. I only used it a couple times because it was awkward and turned popping corn into a chore. Now I don't even know where that silly one-use pot has gotten to.)

Here's how you make popcorn on the stove:

Find a pot with a lid and a handle. The size of the pot doesn't matter except that it determines how much popcorn you can make in one batch.

Turn on the burner to medium-high, set the pot on top, and pull out your coconut oil and your stash of organic popping corn (if it isn't organic, try to make sure it isn't genetically modifed (GMO) at least!). Plop a blob of the coconut oil into the pot--enough so that it covers the entire bottom of the pot as it melts (I love coconut oil and I use cold pressed extra virgin oil because it imparts into my popcorn a subtle coconut flavor. But when I run out of the more expensive cold pressed extra virgin oil, I am fine using the refined stuff.)

While the oil melts and heats, drop in one kernel of popping corn.

Now stand there and watch the kernel while you're listening to talk radio, thereby enriching your mind while you seek to enrich your body. Eventually, the kernel will start to sizzle and then POP itself into fluffy goodness. I find that the more closely you watch the kernel, the more likely it is to pop itself out of the pan. That may have something to do with quantum physics.

While you're pondering how noticing the actions of a kernel of popcorn can literally influence its behavior, pour in enough popcorn kernels to cover the bottom of the pot one layer deep. I usually add a smidge more (that's a scientific measurement, of course) so the kernels are packed closely together but still touching the oil.

Put the lid on the pot and give it a gentle shake as it sits on the burner in order to keep the kernels from burning. Give it a gentle shake every few seconds while the oil heats the kernels and they begin popping like crazy. When the popping sounds stop, take the pot off the burner and look under the lid to see what awaits you.

Quickly pour the popcorn into a large bowl and add your seasonings. Walmart carries a few flavors of popcorn seasonings that are very delicious and low in calories (I haven't checked the ingredients because maybe I don't want to know, okay?). I really like a few sprinkles of Ranch flavor and a few more of Nacho Cheese flavor, topped off with some ground pepper. I also add some Nutritional Yeast Flakes for a sense of righteousness. Combine sugar and salt for kettle corn, or get creative with your spice cupboard: Mrs. Dash is a great popcorn flavoring, as is some salt and garam masala. Or you can melt butter and drizzle that on, too. I'm good with that.

Cancer Free for Three Years Now

Husband went in for another of his six month checkups at the cancer hospital yesterday. We always make a day of it and go to The Big City together, though he could very well get himself there on his own. It's just more fun together.

After long waits in the crowded and busy clinic, results were in and they were perfect. Still cancer-free after three years.

Sometimes I forget he had leukemia. The horror of finding out he had cancer and the aftermath of it all were more stressful than anything I've ever dealt with before, but it was over within a very short amount of time. We didn't have to go through months and months of chemo and radiation, worrying that the cancer would not respond or would return more aggressively than before. Husband felt awful and it was very hard, but it was lived through fairly quickly.

We're blessed. Truly blessed. We're still shelling out for those medical bills, but it's a small price to pay in the big scheme of things. Every six months, I feel again just how blessed we are.

Suckered

Twitter, like Pinterest, is something I've mostly avoided. I don't even have a Pinterest account because I figure I waste enough minutes and hours on Facebook that I can't justify getting involved with yet another internet time suck. When I make my living working on the computer, it's all too easy to find distractions.

I just caught up on my book club, pie, and entertainment interests on Twitter after literally months (and possibly years) of being away. For some reason, I hadn't seen it all before. I didn't know how much I had missed.

I got a pretty negative impression of Twitter after I'd first signed up and immediately received a message from an internet prostitute that caused my eyebrows to climb into my hairline. As I hadn't indicated whether  I was male or female, I guess the woman (or company software, most likely) figured there was a 50/50 chance I'd be interested. They probably target all new male or non-gender-specific account holders. She quit following me when I failed to take the bait.

I have no real point here. I now suspect that the part of my brain that wants to go outside and play has once again successfully distracted me from my editing and writing responsibilities. Well played.