The new blog

http://sustainablydiabetic.blogspot.com/

A little milestone

So we had our two-week appointment yesterday with our pediatric endocrinologist. We're big fans of Dr. Amy, and we were excited to hear that she happens to the medical director for diabetes camp, which Noah will attend this summer. She's just super down-to-earth and kind; she spent the first few minutes of the appointment with her arm around Noah. Considering he's going to be with her several times a year until he graduates college, it's a good relationship to foster.

Anyway, he's been struggling to keep his blood sugar up, so we reduced his dosage of his basal/long-acting insulin, and (drum roll...) we've transitioned to per meal dosing. Yay! Basically, this means that instead of having a consistent mealtime fast-acting insulin dose, and then trying to match the amount of carbs in his meal to that dose, we now get to decide what to feed him, count those carbs, and then give him insulin to match. This is oddly liberating when it comes to planning meals, but more than that, it means we've stepped a little further into "real life" as a family with a diabetic kid. Matching the insulin to the intake is the way it's supposed to be done, but everyone starts off the other way to get a handle on "patient's" insulin-to-carb ratio.

And, even more exciting, we don't have to go back to the doctor for another 2 and a half months, at which point they'll test his A1C, which is the real measure of how we're all managing Noah's diabetes. Perhaps I'll explain A1C in a later post, but I doubt it will really hold anyone's interest.

And along those lines, I think this blog may be coming to an end. Simply put, diabetes has taken over our lives. I count carbs in my dreams. I'm constantly evaluating our food stashes to make sure I have frosting, glucose tabs and juice boxes in every car, every backpack and every purse. Yesterday I panicked because Noah didn't finish his breakfast, and I didn't realize it until I had put him on the bus. Thus ensued frantic phone calls to school, to get in touch with his teacher, to have her send him to the nurse and drink a box of juice, lest he get a low.

But he came home with a low anyway, as has been his pattern for the past few days. Which means scrambling to wash his hands, test his blood, get 15 grams of carbs in him and then wait, not-so-patiently, for the number to come up.

Dinnertime was somewhat annoying before (kids acting insane in the witching hour, trying to match when dinner is ready to the ever-changing arrival time of my husband, me being exhausted at the end of the day, etc.). Now, it's utterly chaotic. Staving off Noah's hunger so he doesn't ruin his dinner, simultaneously trying to ward off a low while dinner is cooking; getting Noah to do everything he has to do (again, wash his hands, test his blood), which is not always successful, sometimes he does it fairly willingly, but other days he still balks, whines or cries; actually cooking dinner; counting the carbs in the dinner and measuring out Noah's portion; calculating Noah's insulin dose; answering the phone when Matt calls to tell me that he is a) on his way home; or b) not yet on his way home, and adjusting dinner accordingly; writing down what's on the menu for Noah, his glucose numbers, his carb-count and his dose.

It's all truly exhausting and all-consuming. And I know that frankly, none of you guys care to hear all of the gory details. So that leaves me either blogging to myself, or leaving it alone, so I'll likely chose the latter. And I make this proclamation to avoid any negligent-blogging guilt trips by the Boy Wonder. ;-)

A new blog is in the works, however. My dear friend, Catherine, is spear-heading the design and coding. As some of you may have guessed, I am kind of a freak about whole, organic, local, sustainable foods. Then enter diabetes. It has completely changed the game. We've heard from lots of people, including our dietitians, that otherwise healthy families tend to develop less healthy diets over time because of the convenience of processed foods when it comes to counting carbs. You'd be amazed how much of the "Help your diabetic kid" books out that are devoted to carb counts for happy meals and canned fruit. And try to find a farmer's market style-cookbook that provides nutritional information. And diabetes management doesn't exactly fit with my style of cooking, which thus far has been "a little of this, a little of that into the pot, and see what happens." I need to create a database for myself and other like-minded families with tips, ideas, recipes, cheat sheets, etc. for how to keep a diabetic kid healthy without resorting to the middle aisles of the mega-grocers. And I need to vent diabetes bullshit to an audience that won't think I'm whining or overreacting. I've gotten enough feedback so far to know that not everyone thinks this is that big of a deal. Sigh. We'll see how it goes....

Diabetes Blows

I am about to spend $132 on Amazon, and I don't give a shit. Because my baby is has Type 1 diabetes, so who really gives a shit what our credit card balance is? My purchases are:

1) Digital scale for measuring food in grams

2) Two books detailing proper carb counting, including carb factor listings

3) Two books on how to parent kids with diabetes

4) One book all about insulin

5) One book that purports to teach me how to "Think Like a Pancreas." That one was purchased for the name alone -- tons of positive reviews by parents of newly diagnosed kids was just a bonus.

6) A DVD on yoga for stress relief. My power yoga videos aren't quite cuttin' it these days. Need something a little more mellow.

7) A copy of The Help. Heard it's a great book, and I need something to read besides diabetes books, right?

8) The unrated version of The Hangover. Must have something to help us laugh.

9) The New Moosewood Cookbook. Borrowed it from the library. Must. Have. Own. Copy.

The oil spill

This makes me so sad.

On a "warmer" note... 72 degrees!

It's a Minnesota miracle! Or so they tell us. This was the first March on record without snow here in the now un-frozen tundra. And with the early thaw came all sorts of things I didn't expect, including a return of many residents of our herb garden. We've taken advantage of the gorgeous weather to get started on our cleaning, weeding and planting. We're trying some new things this year and learning as we go.

The golden raspberry bush, coming back to life, bringing forth lots of little babies.

Basil & cilantro in pots, because although it's been warm and although I've only lived in Minnesota a year and a half, I'm no dummy. I can bring them in if we get a cold spell. Also in the pots are arugula and swiss card seeds. In the coconut grass planter, I've transplanted some chocolate mint -- hoping it catches and does well in the hanging planter. Chocolate mint mojitos anyone?

The herb garden is reborn! The oregano, chives, sage & thyme are all doing well. And there's still hope for a curly parsley plant. To the left I've planted some lettuce beds -- Forrellenschluss and two musclun mixes.
Here's our new cherry tree. The cherries will be tart, not sweet, so with any luck, there will be lots of cherry pies, crisps, tarts and jams in the Tomback house this July. We're hoping to add a couple of plum trees in the next few weeks.

And here's the zucchini that came as a total surprise. This is exactly where it was last year, so apparently a seed from a hunk of vegetable that got left in the ground all winter decided to make a come back. Yay!

This little hard-to-see baby is one of our two new blueberry bushes. They have both been ravaged by some little fucker -- probably a rabbit. They're still alive, so I'm hoping they can rally and make it through. I've watered them like crazy and covered them with netting to prevent any further mutilation. I've also sprinkled the area liberally with fox urine pellets. Fingers crossed!

And these are my gorgeous seedlings chillin' in under the flourescent light in the workroom. I actually have two trays, and they are full of 4 varieties of tomatoes, 5 varieties of peppers, 2 kinds of eggplant and okra. Now I know what all of you are thinking -- especially the NYC crowd: Mary, are you crazy trying to grow Okra in Zone 4? Well, yes, this is perhaps a fruitless endeavor (pun completely intended). But this variety is more cold-hardy than others, and you only live once, right? So why not just throw caution to the wind and try to grow okra! This is the first year starting my own seeds, and so far, so good. With any luck at this point, I'll even have some extra plants to pass along for my neighbors' gardens.

And finally, Noah, Luke & our neighbor Symone making a frickin' disaster at the sand/water table. Totally worth the mess.

No, no, no!!

I came across this today on Facebook. Right now, I really should be in my garage, pricing things and setting up for my garage sale tomorrow. But I can't. I'm going to write this instead.

A large part of the reason I practice my faith these days at an Episcopal congregation is because I don't agree with the Vatican on much of anything. I want to be a devout Catholic -- really, I do. But I love receiving communion during Mass from a female priest. God Bless You, Rev. Nancy! I love that everyone at Mass is invited to partake in communion. I love that I am not banished to confession if I miss services on any given week. I love that my priest would not send me marching off to confession upon learning that (back in our fertile days), my husband and I were pretty attached to our birth control. I love that I am great friends with the WIFE of our priest, i.e., I love that our priest gets to have a WIFE. I love that the diocese of Minnesota nominated a lesbian priest to be its new bishop, because Episcopalians, as a denomination, have nothing against homosexuals. And I love that I can go to services and experience the same rituals and traditions that I treasure about having grown up Catholic.

And I have tried to refrain from too much judgment against the MODERN Catholic church in the wake of the most recent news of priest sex scandals. Initially, I did not blame the church for the fact that some of its priests molested young children. I ABSOLUTELY point my finger directly and solely at the church for those times when priests molested children AGAIN -- those times when the accused were quietly shuffled to a new congregation. But as to Pope Benedict and the current Vatican, I didn't necessarily hold too large a grudge because much of what was coming to light now were atrocities that occurred in the past. And I frankly wasn't paying too much attention to Cardinal Ratzinger's role in any of the previous cover-ups, simply because I didn't care enough.

But now I care. Because when the Pope's #2 says publicly that "he's been told" there is "a relationship between homosexuality and pedophilia," I want to scream. Sure there is, in that some pedophiles are homosexuals. And other pedophiles are heterosexuals. But that's not what he was insinuating, and the world knows it.

This comment was apparently made amidst the debate about the forced celibacy of priests, the idea being, that if priests were allowed to be married, perhaps they wouldn't have such sexual hang-ups and issues that may play a part in the pathology leading them to pedophilia. Sure -- I buy that.

But I think the conversation needs to go one step further. Specifically, the Catholic church (and every other religion that condemns homosexuals) needs to recognize that homosexuality is not a sickness. It's not a crime. It's not a sin. It's not something to be scared of, shunned and hidden. Let's consider all of the sick bastards during the 50s, 60s, 70s, who were molesting young boys: first of all, I don't believe all of them were homosexuals. Priests' access to kids back in the day was most often with boys, because only boys were allowed to be altar servers. So I'm sure some of them were actually fucked up heterosexuals who were choosing their victims based on access and availability, more than sexual orientation. But with respect to those who would have considered themselves homosexuals, I believe very strongly that many of them entered the priesthood as an escape. It was not okay for them to be gay -- not in their families, their communities, or their churches. They felt they had no choice but to repress this identity. They were taught homosexuality was a curse, a disgusting, sinful curse that would land them straight in hell. So their call to the priesthood, as genuine as it may have been, was a perfectly acceptable escape. Priests weren't sexual beings, after all, so it didn't matter if they felt sexual feelings for men, rather than women, because they couldn't act on them anyway. BUT, they nevertheless had to hide this part of their identities in every aspect of their lives. Moreover, they had to preach to their congregants the evils of homosexuality. How on earth could this not have fucked them up even more?

Is all of this an excuse for pedophilia in the church? Absolutely not. But isn't it reasonable to consider it a factor in the discussion of the guilty priests? It speaks nothing to the other criminal behavior at work -- the persistent cover-up by the church -- but if we're going to talk about why this can happen in the church at all, I think this topic is relevant.

Thank you, New York!

So, someone or something during our travels last week gave me a cold. Yuck. I'm just now feeling semi-normal again. So forgive my belated note/blog of thanks -- we had such a wonderful time! And we absolutely LOVED seeing each and every one of you. It was the perfect way to spend Sweetie's birthday! Some pictures -- the second one is Noah's butt in front of the T-rex at the museum. He insisted on that one. The last one of is Noah riding his bike without training wheels for the first time.

#8 and #9

8. The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields. Won the Pulitzer Prize in 1993. I picked it up at our church's book sale last summer for $1 -- can't say that I would have gravitated toward it in a book store or sought it out. But it was a really beautiful novel -- the story of a woman from her birth through her death, told from the interchangeable perspective of the people in her life, and occasionally from her own perspective. Haven't decided whether I'll put it back in the donation box for next year or if I'll keep it as part of our "library."

9. A Year in Provence by Peter Mayle. Love Provence. Love the French. Have an unshakable urge to go bask in the sun outside of a cafe eating, drinking, smelling the lavender and gazing out at the vineyards.

A point of clarification

I have given this some more thought since writing the last post, and I can actually think of many republicans I know and love who are not, in any way, douchebags -- my father, being a prime example. And I wholeheartedly apologize to those people I love whom I have offended by my stream-of-consciousness ranting.

I'm still bewildered by the positions the PARTY takes, however. Some of them truly seem contradictory to me, particularly when espoused by the hard-core Christian right. And I'm still disgusted by the tactics employed by some of its more vocal and extremist leadership. For example, twittering that it's time to "reload," mocking, ridiculing and belittling a sick man at a rally, suggesting Obama is a Muslim (inherently implying there's a problem with being a Muslim), etc. The debates we are having in this country are not civilized. They are petty and immature and shameful.

One of the most pathetic aspects of these behaviors is the inability to see that the pot is calling the kettle black. And for that, I will now call out some of the democrat douchebags that have sickened me as of late. Mr. Stupak and Mr. Nelson are prime examples -- cutting deals and making stinks that undermine any genuine attempts at good faith negotiations. And don't even get me started of John Edwards. I feel so duped that I bought into his "poor, Southern boy made good" act. How these charming southern-boy, philandering jackasses can look right into a camera and bold-faced LIE about fathering a child or getting blow job from an intern is beyond me. Is it idiocy, or arrogance, or naivete that allows them to believe they will get away with the lies?

So it's settled -- there are republican douchebags and democrat douchebags. But I would love to engage in a "mature" policy discussion (one in which I will refrain from labeling anyone a douchebag or a jackass) SOMEDAY. (But not anytime soon. And not over pizza. And not in LaPorte. ;-) Love you, Mrs. Howard!!)

Partisan Politics

I'm confused about something, and I have been for a while. I started drafting this post in my head as I was driving around, listening to a caller chime-in on the health care debate on NPR. I'd love for any of the loyal NINE readers to explain the following to me.

I know a lot of Christian fundamentalists, or people who would otherwise label themselves as very religious (choice of word important here -- I do not mean "spiritual"), who are die-hard Republicans. They want the government to stay out of their lives. (An example, I heard today that Texas Governor Rick Perry is planning a lawsuit to challenge the constitutionality of the newly-enacted health care reform bill, urging Texans -- including the 6 million without insurance -- "to take responsibility for their own health.") Yet another tenet of the party platform is "American values," which loosely translated seems to mean no assistance for illegal immigrants, no abortions and no gay marriage, or even according to some people, no equality for same-sex couples.

The latter strikes me as among the most significant possible infringements by government in one's life -- the government in your bedroom and in your uterus. (I, for one, would much rather have the government in my health insurance company.) Yet most conservatives welcome that infringement and fight for it, assumingly because they place themselves on such high moral ground that this invasion of privacy wouldn't affect them, the heterosexual virgins-until-marriage that we know all them to be. But surely some of these devout church-goers are themselves without health insurance? Perhaps, dare I say, some of them may be smokers, or diabetics, or otherwise at risk for a chronic health condition that could render them uninsurable or financially crippled due to out-of-pocket healthcare costs under our current system? Universal health care in general is virulently opposed by conservatives, notwithstanding the fact that it could help them, their neighbors, their families, their friends and their communities, because they don't want government in their lives. Apparently, they'd rather have the millions of Americans without insurance die broke from a disease that wasn't properly treated, than have some government-run health care. Because some version of the current bill would have theoretically allowed healthcare funds be used to subsidize abortions, even those abortions that are medically necessary, the whole bill is rendered evil and catastrophic. I don't get it.

Bravo to the group of Catholic nuns who urged Congress to pass the healthcare reform bill, despite official opposition by the U.S. Council of Catholic Bishops. These brave women wrote that the bill "will uphold longstanding conscience protections and it will make historic new investments – $250 million – in support of pregnant women. . . . This is the REAL pro-life stance, and we as Catholics are all for it.” But one nun in particular went even farther, writing that national health care must include “Medicaid funding for a woman on Medicaid … who chooses this legal medical procedure.” God bless her and all those people that prayerfully dissent from what their religious leaders tell them and choose to recognize that this issue is not so one-sided.

Speaking more broadly, I remember what someone told me once about democrats and republicans. I was in college at the time, interning for the summer with U.S. Congressman Charles Taylor in NC, a Republican. He was a tree farmer, and a logger, and cast numerous votes that destroyed much of the western NC wilderness. These things didn't bother me at the time -- I knew I wanted to go to law school, he was the congressman from my home district, and I wanted the experience for my applications.

The other experience I was getting that summer was as a public relations intern for the United Way. When I was shoved into the dark, dank, dusty basement of the congressman's fundraising office to "clean and organize" YEARS worth of press clippings and notes from constituents, I came across several letters to the editors of area newspapers from my supervisor at the United Way, railing on the congressman. I talked to her about it at some point, and she told me that she thought democrats tended to be nicer people than republicans, because their platform is based on helping people, rather than forcing everyone to make it on their own.

At the time, I thought this was complete crap. I'm not sure I do anymore. I'm confused. Because all of the issue that are important to me -- conserving resources and being kind to the earth, promoting diversity, ensuring a healthy food supply, making sure ALL children have access to the SAME quality of food, education, and health care, giving those people who got dealt a crappy hand in life some support, treating all people with dignity, respect and fairness -- are NOT supported by the republicans. That are strongly, loudly and shamelessly opposed by most republicans. To me, these beliefs epitomize a pro-life ideology; specifically, I think these things are exactly what Jesus -- the religious leader so many conservatives claim to follow -- preached. Jesus said that God is the judge, not man. He said help your neighbor out. He begged us to love the earth the God created for us (in 6 days of course, a mere several thousand years ago.) He brought compassion to those people the community ostracized and condemned. He pleaded with people to not be douchebags to each other. (My words, not his.)

So I'm going to need some help here. I have found myself more and more lately leaning toward the dangerous predisposition that republicans = douchebags. I know this can't possibly be true. So I need someone to explain to me how and why I'm wrong. Please.

UPDATE: Bob Herbert is preaching to the choir! Preach on!!

He did it!

Noah can now ride his bicycle without the training wheels! We're so proud!!

He turns 6 in little over a month. Many younger kids in the 'hood are already riding two-wheelers, but he's been really nervous about it thus far. Last fall, he was insistent that he couldn't do it, and he was working hard on his Razor. We figured that would teach him some balance, so that would be a good primer for his bike.

This week, in the crazy, gorgeous spring-like weather, we took a couple of trips to the park, one of them with Symone, our neighbors' daughter. She is about 8 months older than Noah, and she is a champ on her bike. She rode her bike and Noah rode his scooter, and he was thoroughly pissed that she was going faster than he was. You could see his mind churning -- he was obviously deciding he was going to figure out that bike.

So Matt took him out today, and withing 2 minutes, he was on his own. He was so proud of himself. It was one of those beautiful parenting moments. Pictures to follow.

P.S. Matt wanted me to add that he can't believe Kansas lost.

Thank God for Spring

I'll admit that, thus far in my life, Spring has been my least favorite season. I found it boring, dirty and ugly. Fall was where the action was at as far as I was concerned -- occasional Indian summer days, apples orchards and pumpkin patches, gorgeous colors everywhere you look, big beautiful mums on front porches, breaking in the fire place for the season, preparing for the holidays. All of these things, of course, lead to first snowfalls, sledding rides, ice skating, lots of fires, hot chocolate and wool socks. I love being cozy, so winter was just fine by me. And summer... well, who doesn't like summer? Spring just paled in comparison to all of the joys the other seasons held, and so for me, it was nothing more than a means to an end.

That is, until I moved to the frozen tundra and learned why God invented spring. It's the reward for making it through three months without seeing anything green; three months of being unable to expose any skin to the elements; three months of anxiety and worry when your kids had to traverse the ice that covered nearly every patch of pavement. Three months of not seeing your neighbors, of having to take the car to drive your baby down the block to the bus. Three months of choosing between being cooped up in your house or freezing your ass off.

I understand now, having lived through (almost, anyway) my second winter in Minnesota, that spring is utterly beautiful in its own right. Sure, I could talk about rebirth, new beginnings, awakenings, etc., as part of the glory of the season. And those things are all well and good. But they aren't the best parts.

The best parts are the little things that you can shed as part of your daily life that you didn't once think were a big deal but that eventually weigh you down. Like being able to get out the door five minutes sooner because you're not putting on gloves, hats and scarves. Having your child climb into his own carseat because he is no longer restrained by the bulk of his winter coat. Finishing off a bottle of Vitamin D supplements and not needing to rush to the co-op for more. Telling your kids to please, for the love of God, go outside and leave you alone for five minutes. (Sure, I could have done this in the winter, but inevitably, I would spend 15 minutes getting everyone suited up in their bib-style snowpants, boots, and other winter-wear essentials, they'd be out for 7 1/2 minutes, then someone would need to pee and we'd have to go through the whole process all over again. So not worth it.)

There are now more parking spots available at preschool and Target because mounds of snow have not been plowed into 1/3 of them. I ran around Lake Harriet today because it was finally warm enough to avoid my cold-weather asthma. The last few mornings, I have filled up my coffee cup, strolled with Noah to his bus stop and then chatted for a minute with the neighbors before heading home.

And this past weekend was a beautiful, wonderful, fantastic, perfect weekend. It was mostly sunny and 55 degrees. Admittedly, that's not exactly "warm," but it felt like heaven. We finally took down the outdoor Christmas lights! Hah! Who knew we'd turn into rednecks when we moved to Minnesota? Last year we thought everyone was being festive and fun by leaving their decorations out for so long. Now we know the truth. A) it's too damn cold to go outside in January (or February) to take them down; and B) even if you wanted to, the damn things are frozen in place anyway.

The boys broke out the scooters and did a few loops around. We even put Noah on his bike, sans training wheels, and he managed a few rides down the street with daddy just holding the seat. Friends came over on Sunday night and we cooked burgers on the grill, then ate outside! We also took Mabel for a walk. This in and of itself is huge, since she shivers like the dickens and is rendered immobile when temperature dips below 40.

I feel like a new woman. I know that we're likely to get at least another snowfall and some more days of freezing temperatures before winter is completely behind us for this year, but that's ok. This weekend showed us the light at the end of the tunnel. We can make it. And for the first year ever, I will actually enjoy every single spring-like moment we get.

Our hats go off to you, Dr. Chien

This is so frickin' awesome. If you haven't seen the documentary King of Kong, rent it immediately. If you have already seen it, you'll love this.

http://www.bestweekever.tv/2010-03-10/our-long-national-nightmare-is-over-billy-mitchell-dethroned-as-donkey-kong-king-2/

Still, with the Avett Brothers

On Friday night, sweetie & I saw the best concert of our lives -- the Avett Brothers, at First Avenue, a club in Minneapolis. It was even better than their show last summer. We loved every single minute of it, and we were practically depressed the rest of the weekend because it was over. I would talk more about this incredible show, but my previous attempts to show my readership the light on the brilliance of the Brothers have been met with resistance (you know who you are, losers), so I won't do so again here.

In other news, signs of spring are appearing here in the frozen tundra. Specifically, we see grass! Disgusting, muddy, brown, matted patches of grass, and it's beautiful in all of its hopeful, energizing splendor. Most of the grass is still covered with snow, but more is melting every day. I even ordered seeds this weekend! I'll probably do a separate seed post soon, but I'm planning to start some of my own in my workroom under a fluorescent light, and then direct seed the ones that I can. I'm planning an herb and lettuce bed, a separate mint bed, kales & swiss chard as edible landscaping along the front walk, and lots more in the back beds. Again, more later.

Also to celebrate spring, we took a big walk around the lake with friends. Only in Minnesota do you celebrate the 42-degree weather the first weekend in March with a 3 mile walk around a frozen lake with the whole family.

And the weekend was capped off with me watching the Oscars alone in bed while Matt worked. Someone please explain -- who told Charlize Theron that dress was a good idea?

The Beauties

Well, discussion in my last post sparked lots of commentary, so I thought that you would all love to see a picture of my gorgeous girls (and by this I, of course, mean the Le Cresuet pans).

What you see here is the 7 1/4 quart Dutch Oven and the 3 1/2 quart buffet, both in Dune. I love them desperately. The buffet was a last minute decision, but I'm thrilled with it. I've made dinner in there twice already in the past three nights of cooking, and I'm going to use it again tonight. It's going to prove to be very useful, I'm sure. And I'm sure some of you are thinking (as my sweetie did ), "Why Dune when there are other so much more interesting colors?" True, some would consider this choice boring. But it isn't to me. To me its classic and tasteful and gorgeous. I absolutely love the decorating combination of creams and whites because it is clean, simple, fresh, bright and versatile. Those colors are the palette for the whole kitchen (and the better part of the house, actually). We also got a 9 1/2 in. non-stick stainless steel saute pan, which has also already seen a lot of use. One of the best thing about all of these is that Le Creuset offers a lifetime warranty. Anything ever happens to the pan, just bring it back and get new one. Ahh, love.

Another Tuesday morning

I'm writing this blog post well-aware that no one will likely read it, save Sweetie. Jeff is in Asia, Brian is in trial, Andrew is neck deep in a thesis and Nilda has a life. With only five readers, it's amazing that I so willingly crumbled when faced with Boy Wonder's guilt-trip and now attempt to blog with regularity. I need to re-think the theme of the blog, to aim for some consistency. But then again, with only five of you reading it, who cares? Blogging has served the worthwhile purpose of maintaining our friendships -- making me, at least, feel like you are all not quite as far away -- but without the hassle of direct human contact. Hah.

I should have put some toasted pecans in my steel-cut oatmeal this morning.

For lack of a more compelling topic, I shall talk about my kitchen activities. I've always been somewhat hit-or-miss with my culinary endeavors. Usually the quality of the results suffers from lack of patience and failure to research properly my methodology. And then there's the perpetual problem of failing to be creative enough to use up -- fully -- what I have, instead of making unnecessary grocery store runs.

I was inspired on our mini-vacation to Texas by a fabulous cafe, The Lunchbox. It was open for breakfast and lunch, and relied heavily on locally sourced ingredients. Galveston is not yet too deeply invested in the local food movement -- no real presence of farmer's markets, co-ops, or health food stores. This is particularly unfortunate since the climate is so amenable to year-round growing, but apparently the soil isn't so great, and why waste land for food when it can be used to refine oil? So this place, just two blocks from my brother's apartment, is unique, particularly because it serves as a farmer's market of sorts, allowing patrons to purchase extra stuff from the owners' network of farmers, which includes backyard gardeners.

Anyway, the owners had some great stuff on their menu that got me to thinking. And I came home and started reading through some more of my cookbooks -- particularly Heidi Swanson's Super Natural Cooking and my Alice Waters Collection.

Then, on Saturday, we went to the Le Creuset's outlet for it's sale, and I got a couple of new pans. They are gorgeous and I adore them and they make me want to spend more time in my kitchen playing around and experimenting. Words cannot adequately express my love for these enameled cast-iron beauties.

And we're also going to be doing a little project in the kitchen -- taking out some kitchen cabinets over the countertop peninsula and installing some heavy-duty open shelving on the wall on top of our sideboard. I'm going for a rustic, eclectic "country" kitchen, something that is worthy of being the heart of the house. We've got the fireplace/grill in here, tons of light, open to the rest of the house, great view of the backyard (and the garden, come spring), so I'm super excited.

This past weekend I made some fantastic oatmeal chocolate chip cookies with walnuts (which were absolutely incredible dunked in our morning coffee). Sunday night Matt made burgers (ground beef from our CSA -- yum!) on our indoor grill in the kitchen fireplace with some lemon garlic broccoli. Yesterday I made a chicken stock that came out really well. For lunch I did an avocado & grapefruit salad. Last night for dinner I threw together (in my beautiful new Le Creuset casserole) a dish of local polish sausage, onions, sweet potatoes, canned tomatoes and cannellini beans, with red wine, sage & oregano. It was pretty decent. Today I'm going to make some lemon blueberry cookies substituting half of the flour for almond meal. I'm working on getting some gluten and refined sugars out of our diets, so I've got to get cracking on some more cookie recipes.

Ok, enough talking to myself. Time to exercise.

#'s 5, 6 7 and 7 1/2

During our trip to Galveston, I powered through a bunch of books. So I continue my quest for 25 this year with the following:

5) Mindless Eating by Brian Wansink Ph.D.: this book was basically a regurgitation of tons of studies this guy has done about how and why we eat what we do. Some pretty interesting tidbits in there, including that children of big families tend to eat more, faster because of the "you snooze, you lose" mentality regarding dinner and snacks. As the only girl in a house of three boys and a dad with a big appetite, if there was something yummy in the house, I learned to eat as much as I wanted as fast as I wanted, lest it be gone the next time I was hungry. Unfortunately, this rarely applied to fruit or vegetables, but instead to poptarts and doritos. Those things never lasted more than a couple of hours in our house. The most notable example of this phenomenon occurred when "we" ate all of my brother Mike's birthday cake (I believe I was in college at the time, so it wasn't me, and I'm pretty sure that the bulk of that cake was digested by my father, having likely forgotten it was anyone's birthday). Anyway, an interesting book, and I think there might be some noteworthy items in there for Andrew's thesis.

6) Fieldwork, by Mischa Berlinski: my first work of fiction in the group. This is the story of an American journalist bumming around Thailand while his girlfriend is there teaching English. He gets caught up in the story of a female anthropologist imprisoned for murdering a missionary. She commits suicide right after finishing a couple of papers on life inside the prison. It was a pretty good book -- I got through all 300+ pages in about a day and a half, but the ending was somewhat anticlimactic. Tons of build up to some incredible ending, but then just kind of fizzled. Maybe I read it too fast and missed something. But still interesting. Almost made me want to move to Thailand. Definitely made me happy I'm not an anthropologist.

7) Into Thin Air, by Jon Krakauer: admittedly, this was re-read. My brother had borrowed it and I had run out of books to read for the ride home, so I just re-read this one. And I loved it -- again. I came home and dug around for more of the stories of the other climbers and the backlash against Krakauer for his alleged finger-pointing in the book. I actually don't think that he was blaming anyone in particular, and I think he did a decent job of accepting some blame himself, which he may or may not deserve. He was one of the first ones down, seemed to be physically one of the best off, both before and after the summit, but he didn't take part in any way in any of the rescue efforts. He even left Beck Weathers lying in the tent freezing and started down on his own, apparently on the advice of the other climbers, all of whom concluded Weathers was going to die anyway and they would have enough trouble getting down on their own. So, it might be that Krakauer is a self-centered douchebag, or maybe he was just crazy tired and doing his best to stay alive. Never having met the guy, nor having ever tried to climb anything higher than Crowder's "Mountain" (read, "big hill"), in Charlotte, I'm not going to judge. Regardless, he writes a great book.

7 1/2) The Rape of Nanking, by Iris Chang: This book describes the events surrounding the Japanese takeover of Nanking, China in 1936. By conservative accounts, the Japanese tortured and massacred at least 200,000 Chinese (some estimates have it as high as almost 400,000), most of whom were civilians, including women, children and the elderly. I had to stop this one halfway through, to stave off the inevitable nightmares and depression. There has been lots of backlash against this book -- no doubt Chang had an agenda. She's a Chinese-American whose grandparents have fled Japanese invasions. So, she's pissed. Specifically, she was taking issue in the book with the fact that Japanese war criminals were never prosecuted for the atrocities of Nanking, nor has the Japanese government ever atoned or apologized for the brutality that occurred there. The descriptions (many of which included pictures) detailed the murders and rapes (including rapes of pregnant women, which the Japanese soldiers completed by using a bayonet to slice open her abdomen, rip out her intestines, then the baby, then bayoneting the baby; sons being forced to have sex with their mothers; fathers being forced to rape their daughters). The Chinese were allegedly beheaded, burned alive, buried alive, eaten by dogs, etc., etc. Lots of Japanese historians question the death count (although independent agencies have estimated, conservatively 260,000) and the mode of death. But it seems fairly solid that in six weeks, Japanese soldiers individually killed more people than those killed at Hiroshima and Nagasaki combined. I'm not necessarily saying one was better or worse than the other, but ever since I was a kid and learned about those bombings, I've been ashamed, and I've questioned how America and humanity could ever engage in such an act (this is the same guilt I carry about the Japanese internment during WWII, slavery, the massacres of Native Americans, etc. -- in short, I'm ridiculously naive and idealistic). But now I have a little more perspective -- the Japanese weren't saints themselves, nor were the Chinese. But my feelings about escaping to an island somewhere (it used to be an igloo, but my love for winter is fading quickly...), shunning my national identity, avoiding politics and commercialism and materialism, has been strengthened significantly.

My children don't speak English

Matt and I thought we were teaching them how to speak and understand English as their native language, but we can now see that we were wrong. The common English words and phrases listed below are utterly incomprehensible to our children. Following the English phrase, I will include our perception of what Noah & Luke hear us to be saying.

1. "Don't ask me again" = ask me again in 3 minutes, but this time with more intensity.

2. "Please aim for your pee pee into the toilet" = try to hit the wall, the floor and even the shower curtain, depending on your angle, but do whatever it takes to avoid the toilet.

3. "Please go put your shoes away in your room" = throw your shoes into the middle of your room while you stand in the hallway.

4. "Please just leave me alone for 10 more minutes so I can finish exercising" = stand next to me for the next 10 minutes screaming "NOW NOW NOW!!!"

5. "Luke, you cannot have your mimi [pacifier] if you aren't sleeping" = stand there, close your eyes, and make snoring sounds, but under no circumstances let go of the mimi.

6. "Go wash your hands" = put your hands under cold water for 1.2 seconds.

7. "If you don't take a bite to at least try what mommy cooked for dinner, you aren't going to get any dessert" = push your plate away screaming, then crawl onto mommy's lap, cuddle her adorably, and ask if you can have your dessert now.

8. "For the love of God please pick up these legos before one of us hurts ourselves" = this one seems to have no translation whatsoever. Such a phrase repeatedly falls upon deaf ears. I think the vaccuum cleaner bag is the new lego container. But if those boys think I'm sifting through that nastiness (again) to find their missing lego piece, they're nuts.

9. "Ok, but this is your last one" = you can have as many as you want, so long as you continue nagging mom!

10. "Relax, just relax" = Louder! LOUDER! DON'T STOP NOW!!

#3 and #4

Today I wrapped up two books. First is I'm a Stranger Here Myself by Bill Bryson. I'm a huge fan of his, having read A Short History of Nearly Everything, Lost Continent, and, one of my all-time favorites, A Walk in the Woods. This one did not disappoint. It's a compilation of the columns he wrote for a British newspaper when he moved back to U.S. (Hanover, New Hampshire) after having spent the past 20 years in Britain. Here's my favorite passage. He's describing his attempts to find a winter pastime in New Hampshire, and here he's taking his daughter ice-skating:

And I do know how to skate, honestly. It's just that my legs, after years of inactivity, got a little overecited to be confronted with so much slipperiness. As soon as I stepped onto the ice, they decided they wanted to visit every corner of the pond at once, from lots of different directions. They went this way and that, scissoring and splaying, sometimes getting as much as twelve feet apart, but constantly gathering momentum, until at last they flew out from udner me and I landed on my butt with such a wallop that my coccyx hit the roof of my mouth and i had to push my esophagus back in with my fingers.

"Wow!" said my startled butt as I clambered heavily back to my feet. "That ice is hard."

"Hey, let ME see," cried by head and instantly down I went again.

And so it went for the next thirty minutes, with various extremities of my body -- shoulders, chin, nose, one or two of the more adventurous internal organs -- hurling themselves at the ice in a spirit of investigation. From a distance I suppose I must have looked like someone being worked over by an invisible gladiator."

Admittedly, this strikes a cord given our recent recreational activities. Great, quick read.

I've also just finished How to Practice; the Way to a Meaningful Life, by His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Interestingly enough, this one wasn't quite as entertaining as #3. I was interested in learning a little more about Buddhism, so when I came across this on an endcap at a Target, I figured, "what the hell" (because, of course, all life-changing spiritual awakenings are prompted by purchases off an endcap at a major discount department store). I figure there are two kinds of people who would read this book, a) those people who wanted to read something by the Dalai Lama, to learn more about Buddhism, b) those people who were interested in putting themselves on the path toward enlightenment. Now, not everyone may know which category they fall into when they open the book. I was keeping an open-mind. I mean, I have been to that one Buddhist meditation retreat (it was three hours long, and I spent the final two hours and 45 minutes thinking about how incredibly uncomfortable I was having to sit criss-cross-applesauce), AND Buddhism seemed to do a lot for Tina Turner (at least according to Angela Basset's performance in What's Love Got to Do With It). So I was thinking, at least superficially, maybe I should get on board.

Well now, having finished the book, I can safely say that I am the "learning more about Buddhism" type. I'm not sure that the path to enlightenment is easily navigable for a stay-at-home mom in suburbia. Not that I didn't get what His Holiness was saying (ok, well, I didn't get all of it), but it's just that that shit seemed really hard. For what it's worth though, the tenets of Buddhism seem to come down to one thing: help others, and if that's not possible, do no harm. That's something I can aspire to.

For parents of young children

This article speaks to me, in what I aspire to as a parent, and in what I am horribly guilty of as a parent. And on this particular subject, it should be noted that I always negotiate with toddlers.

"Snack Time Never Ends," The New York Times.