Thanksgiving... I guess

I have resolved to be excited and happy about Thanksgiving, although it's the one holiday I find completely boring and a waste of time and calories. But alas, it's coming. We're cooking. And eating. So I might as well muster up some excitement.

I am thankful. But, I am thankful every single day. I don't need to set aside one day to remind me how blessed I am. I get reminded every time I look at one of the critters.

My what-to-cook-besides-boring-old-turkey-and-dressing-and-crummy-green-bean-casserole dilemma was never really solved. Instead of really shaking things up like I had intended, I've settled for a menu that is "traditional Thanksgiving, with a twist." It goes like this:

Organic, free-range turkey (which we will brine and then smoke)

Black eyed pea & cornbread stuffing http://www.rachaelraymag.com/recipes/rachael-ray-magazine-recipe-index/side-dish-recipes/Black-Eyed-Pea-and-Cornbread-Stuffing

Real cranberry sauce (we usually don't have this because I've never bothered to make it and I refuse to buy the canned crap) http://simplyrecipes.com/recipes/cranberry_sauce/

Pioneer Woman's Rosemary dinner rolls (baked in an iron skillett)http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2009/10/buttered-rosemary-rolls/

Potato, spinach and goat cheese gratin (um, yum!)http://www.rachaelraymag.com/recipes/rachael-ray-magazine-recipes/on-hand-ingredients-recipes/Potato--Spinach-and-Goat-Cheese-Gratin

Sweet potato casserole (topped with candied pecans)http://blog.fatfreevegan.com/2006/12/sweet-potato-casserole-with-pecan.html

New green bean casserole (I even found a vegan portobello mushroom soup, so I won't have to make it from scratch!) http://www.womansday.com/Recipes/New-Green-Bean-Casserole-Recipe

DH is making a chocolate swirl cheese pie that is, like, his favorite pie ever. It's good, I agree. But I usually don't eat it--it's a little rich for me. We'll also have pecan pie, which I hate. I will be making a yet to be determined dessert. I just don't know what. Maybe some kind of creamy fruity pie? I don't know.

As for my quest for enchiladas... we'll be having those for dinner on Friday, made with leftover turkey, of course. So there.

Horses and Zebras (excerpt 5)

After 37 weeks and 3 days of pregnancy, Catie entered the world at 5:39 PM on September 26, 2006. My labor was induced early because ultrasound showed she would be a large baby. And she was. Even being three weeks early, she still weighed 8 pounds, 8 ounces. Labor was difficult. The induction took two days. The epidural wore off almost two hours before it was time to push… and that was after I had a reaction to it in which my blood pressure dropped scarily low and I barfed and then blacked out. I was exhausted and in immense pain. To make things worse, Catie's heart rate was erratic during the labor. So much so, the nurses would only let me push through every other contraction, only adding to my misery. And when Catie finally made her debut, I held her very briefly and kissed her before the hovering nurses whisked her off to give her oxygen, saying she wasn't "pinking up" quite as quickly as they'd like. I guess she pinked up fairly quickly because that was the last I heard of it and she came back to me a little later wrapped up like a little newborn burrito. Bill and I still love to laugh about those baby straight jacket things they put them in and then swaddle them like little burritos. We even joked that she was Catherine the Chimichanga.

I was relieved to finally have her here and everyone seemed to think she was perfect, so I assumed all the anxiety I had felt for the past nine months would disappear.

Going Raw... at least for a few hours

I watched the documentary Food, Inc. over the weekend. I'd already seen Fast Food Nation, King Corn and Supersize me, so I was really excited about this latest installment from the "where does your food come from" genre of documentaries.

We all know I'm about as conservative as they get. I pretty much reject all things liberal. I don't really have any interest in saving the earth. Probably because I don't believe it needs saving. I'm not opposed to wearing real fur. Or aligator boots. Or boots made from Michael Moore. Ha ha.

I am surprised that I find myself buying into the hype about how our entire foods supply has been overtaken by big business and is making us all fat. But I totally believe it. Every last word. I still can't stand McDonald's, thanks to Supersize Me. And I think corn is the bane of our declining health. But, Food, Inc. just took it to a whole new level for me.

The idea behind the movie is that big business has destroyed "good" food and turned it into something that is profitable, marketable, and really bad for us. They pretty much blamed it all on McDonald's. McD's is the world's largest buyer of beef and potatoes and one of the largest buyers of so many other things like pork. McDonald's standards forced suppliers to change their standards which forced growers to change there. Basically, according to the show, everyone is conforming to what McDonald's wants. For example, chickens are now genetically engineered to have extra large breasts because more people like white meat. And these chickens grow twice as big in half the time. So big, they often can't even stand up because their body wasn't built to support all that weight.

Now, I'll admit, I'm really not concerned about the treatment of the chickens. Afterall, they're just going to wind up on someone's plate. But I have to say, the whole idea of eating Frankenchicken kind of freaks me out.

Food, Inc., also made a great point in that we're all led to believe our weight is a matter of personal choice. That if we were all as responsible as we should be, we'd all be skinny and have nice, healthy BMI's. But really, you have no say in it at all. Because corn has taken over and is making us all fat. And if you think about it, it makes soooooo much sense. Back in the 50's what did people cook with? Lard. Big tubs of lard. And butter. Not Smart Balance... but real, genuine, heavy cream butter. And they feasted on ham steaks and pancakes for breakfast. Roast beef sandwiches for lunch--on homemade bread. Chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, gravy, and butter soaked green beans for dinner. And then they topped it all off with a big ol' homemade triple layer chocolate cake. And yet they were all much thinner than we are today.

It makes you wonder why? What's changed? According to Food, Inc., what's changed is corn. Back in the 70's, someone discovered corn syrup is cheaper to make than sugar cane. Prior to that most things were sweetened with pure sugar cane. Suddenly products started changing to save money and now everything--seriously, everything--has some corn in some form in it. It's often listed under code words like maltodextrin or ascorbic acid. Even Motrin has a corn product in it.

And the thing is, our bodies weren't made to consume so much corn. Corn is just about the only thing fed to cows now. Now longer do they roam free on the range, grazing on green grass. It's all just corn. Because it makes them really fat, really fast, which therefore makes them more profitable. And I won't even tell you what all that corn does to the cattle. Trust me, it's bad.

So, all this prompted my friend LJ to come up with a crazy idea. And I do mean crazy. Nuts. She says "What if we just eat raw for a day?" "A WHOLE day?" I say. "Yes." "But what will we eat?" I ask. "Vegetables." You can imagine my response. "Let's just try it and see how we feel," she tells me. "Fine. I'll do it. But just breakfast and lunch."

So we did. I'm six hours into our day of torture. So far, all I've eaten today are: a banana, some almonds, some red bell pepper, some avocado, a few carrots and some cucumber, along with a few dollops of hummus and baba ghanoush. I know the last two items make our experiment not genuinely "raw" since raw foods are technically not cooked above 115 degrees. But, a girl's gotta live a little. Even on a raw foods day. And there was also the "Raw Revolution" organic live food bar with sprouted flax seeds the guy at Natural Grocer recommended. It is vegan, kosher, uncooked, no refined sugars, non GMO (whatever that is), and soy free. I've no idea what they actually put in it. The package says things like agave nectar, dates, coconut, and cocoa powder. It tastes about as good as you might imagine. It wasn't revolting. But it definitely wasn't a snickers.

Interestingly enough, I am full. I woundn't exactly say I'm satisifed. But at least I'm not hungry. I am, however, looking forward to dinner. We're hoping to stave off the "afternoon lull" we often sink into after gorging ourselves on something far too big and fattening for lunch. LJ has a theory that our poor lunch habits are what's making us feel comotose at about 2 p.m. It's 2:20 right now and I'm alert and blogging (somewhat intelligently, I think), so maybe she's on to something.

LJ and I also made a stop at Barnes & Noble to check out some healthy and/or raw cookbooks. Our intent was to buy Alicia Silverstone's "The kind diet." But the food looked way too complicated and a lot like something my kids would blow out of their noses, so we didn't get it. LJ did snap a couple photos of two interesting recipes using her i-phone. Don't tell anyone.

What we did end up buying were two books: "Fresh Food, Fast" from Cooking Light and "Clean Food."

I doubt we'll end up changing our lifestyle dramatically. But I think we might both be willing to vow to eat "raw"-ish at least one day a week and see how it goes.

We both laughed at what a joke it is that we're so easily inspired, and yet so easily discouraged.

Horses and Zebras (excerpt 4)

Practically the first thing I put in what would be Catie's nursery was a blood orange colored piggy bank my grandmother had bought for me when I was little. It was the color of the red dirt you see in Oklahoma and it had cute yellow daisies painted on it. I had put it in a closet and practically forgotten about it. But one Tuesday morning during my pregnancy, I felt compelled to take it out of the closet and put it in the baby’s room. It didn’t match the color palate I had planned for the nursery. It wasn’t even girly looking. But for as much as it stuck out in that room, it fit. And seeing it sitting there on a dresser, bathed in sunlight in the empty, yet-to-be painted room made me happy. I could almost feel my grandmother. She'd always been a big part of my life and she'd died a few years earlier.

A few months later, as I neared the last trimester, I decided it was time to paint. Bill and I went to Lowe’s one Saturday morning and came back with a can of paint in peridot. Having been born in August, I am sadly familiar with periodot. It’s my birthstone. I've always thought it unfortunate to have such an ugly birthstone. I have hated it practically my whole life. Ironically, green has always been my favorite color. I always wondered why I couldn’t have been born in June? Ruby’s are fabulous. Or October because opals are my favorite stone. Still, I wound up paint named for the birthstone I'd spend 29 years hating. I picked it because it matched one of the colors in the baby bedding I had chosen. And even though the bedding had ten other colors in it, I was fixated on the sagey-sea foam green color. And that’s how I wound up with period paint. But it wasn’t until it was on the walls that I realized I didn’t choose that color at all. My grandmother did.

The morning after we had painted the room I walked in to survey the dried version of the color. I was struck by how familiar it looked. I stood there in the center of the room turning circles and trying to figure out where I had seen that exact shade of pale green before. And then I realized, I’d seen that shade all my life on my grandmother’s house. I used to think her house was the oddest shade of green. I figured it fit the colors of the generation in which it was built. It kind of always looked like the color of green you’d see on the homes of old people. But it still stood out among the neutrals on the other homes that lined the block. And I realized in that moment it was just one more sign from my grandmother. I immediately went to the hutch where I had some more of my grandmother’s things and pulled out a little silver cross tied with a shimmery purple bow I had given her a few years back when Hallmark had scads of them and everyone was hanging them from their rearview mirrors. Purple was her favorite color and she was always the most God-fearing person I knew. I pulled it from the stack of things I had of hers… an opalescent oil lamp, a mirror with magnetic doves that skated across it…. All things she had labeled with masking tape and written my name on to be sure I’d get them when she was gone. So I took the cross out and immediately placed it in the nursery. I thought about how that room had so much of her in it... the piggy bank, the wall color, the cross. And it was all for a baby with her namesake. I believe my grandmother was trying to tell me she’d watch over this baby. I just didn’t know then how much the baby really did need a guardian angel.

'Cuz one blog just ain't enough...

Coming soon...

My new blog dedicated to all things dairy-free!

I spend hours upon hours upon hours scouring blogs dedicated to food alleriges... non-dairy diets... even the vegan lifestyle... looking for recipes that taste good and won't do really bad things to Thing 2. The poor girl has been dairy-free for two-years now. We're hoping she outgrows the allergy eventually. But for now, I'm stuck trying to find easy ways to make yummy meals we can all enjoy. That's what the new blog is about. Typical, everyday, ordinary recipes we all love, only dairy free. I've accumulated a lot of recipes over the last two years. And it was a lot of work. Let me tell ya, it ain't easy being non-cheezy.

So the new blog is coming soon at delishanddairyfree.blogspot.com.

Horses and Zebras (excerpt 3)

I knew from the start of my second pregnancy something was wrong. But I just couldn't put my finger on it. I just had this feeling. This icky, nagging, indescribable feeling something was wrong. I would get what almost felt like a mini panic attack. This would happen several times a day. I am not a nervous person at all. I am very calm. So calm, I sometimes joke that I need to take my blood pressure to make sure I'm still alive.

But this sense of panic was a feeling I'd never felt before and one that was and still is difficult to describe. So, I kept it to myself. And with each passing month and each visit to my obstetrician, I was assured everything was fine and this was a typical, healthy, low-risk pregnancy. And yet, I couldn't shake the nagging, worried feeling that had been haunting me practically since I saw two lines on a home pregnancy test.

I chalked it up to wacky hormones and anxiously awaited the arrival of our second baby girl to be named Catherine. It had been my late grandmother's middle name and I'd always thought it was beautiful. I loved the sound of it. So regal and classy. Much like my grandmother.

I loved the warm memories of her it invoked. It made me think of how I'd spend the night at her house and we'd pop some popcorn and she'd mix us drinks of Coke and grape juice (which I loved) and we'd watch reruns of Trapper John. And I loved the meaning of the name--pure. I loved that it was so calm and serene. Perhaps that was why I was insistent she be named Catherine. Unable to shake the worry, I longed to feel calm and serene. And now that I know what I know, I believe Catie was meant to be named for my grandmother--a sign my Catherine would always be protected.

Sometimes I feel a little like Rainman...

I suppose you might be wondering why so many blog posts all of a sudden? I go weeks without posting anything and then suddenly I post ten times in one week. It's just how I work. It is the cycle that is me.

Sometimes I have nothing to say. Literally. Nothing to say. Sometimes I get all moody and really don't want to talk to anyone or have anyone talk to me.

And sometimes I feel a little like Rainman. This week is one of those times. It's like this floodgate opens in my head and in come the words and I can't make them stop. All I can do is try to formulate them in my head into something I want to post here. It's literally a sudden monsoon of words and sentences and ideas flowing through my head.... I feel like a painter who has to immediately start painting and he can't stop until his masterpiece is complete. My blog is my masterpiece. Without it I think I might possibly go crazy. Or crazy-er. I imagine I might feel like Van Gogh right before he cut off his own ear. Although that had something to do with a brothel and wench and was right around the time he tried to drink turpentine. But that's if you even believe he cut off his own ear. Some conspiracy theorists believe this other guy with a funny name I can't spell or pronounce did it. And Van Gogh had syphillis which made him madder than he already would have been just by being an artist and all. But I digress... (you see what I mean about the words? They just. Keep. Coming.)

I had a really good downpour last night. Appropriately enough it happened while I was in the shower. Just as I was about to pour shampoo into my hand. Head and shoulders, in case you care. Everyone always asks how my hair gets so darn shiny. I don't know. It's either the shampoo or all those words I have raining down in my head waiting to be imparted upon you. But back to the downpour... So, I'm in the middle of shampooing and suddenly I get a thought. Followed by another thought. And another. And before I know it, I've just composed several paragraphs of Horses and Zebras... which I actually started writing a year ago. So then I'm saddled with the responsibility of trying to keep the words in my head the way I composed them long enough for me to condition, towel off, put on my jammies and boot up my laptop. It's a heavy burden, people.

Luckily, I was able to salvage most of what I had thought up in the shower. But who knows when the next flood will happen? Hopefully soon. I've got a book to write.