Category Archives: Popular

The Plan

Too sick to go to school, but too healthy to stay home.

After the last meal-related post a friend told me that she wanted to eat more vegetables and she wanted to feed her family better but she just didn’t know how. She thought she should take a cooking class. She seemed to think that at the end of the day she should be able to come home and take whatever staples, leftovers, condiments and spices were available and throw something together.

Dude, it’s not like you’re on Top Chef. There’s this place with tables and shelves and aisles filled with food. All kinds of food. It’s called a supermarket or a grocery store or a co-op. Whatever. Go there.

Here’s what I told her to do:

  1. Get a few good cookbooks, favorite recipe website or cooking magazine.
  2. Over the weekend sit down with them and your calendar.
  3. Choose 3 recipes with lots of veggies. Don’t skimp on the butter, olive oil, cheese, whatever it takes to make those veggies taste good.
  4. Make a grocery list and plan to buy enough food to feed your family for at least two nights. If it’s freezable (like soup or stew), cook extra extra and put it in a glass canning jar in the freezer.
  5. Look at your schedule and plan what nights you’ll cook and what nights you’ll have leftovers.
  6. Go to the store or order groceries online and have them delivered.
  7. Cook. Eat. Sleep.

Now, lest you think I’m a total, perfect, know-it-all blogger, I’m going to take a minute to tell you all the things I don’t do well. I do not clean bathtubs. When Paul used my bathroom while we were dating and accidentally looked in my shower, he was horrified. He says now that it was a jungle filled with monkeys swinging on vines. I barely keep my few houseplants alive (just ask my mother). I do not knit, quilt, sew or scrapbook. I do not make any pretty or thoughtful presents for my friends and family when they are ill or have babies. There are many other things I do not do well, but I think that’s enough for today. Oh, and I’m totally tone deaf.

I know some of you are organizational marvels who quilt and bake and have bags of homemade meatballs and soups in the freezer just waiting to be eaten. You know who you are. Will you share some of your tips?

And even if you aren’t an organizational marvel what are your favorite tricks for getting food on the table? (Did I REALLY just write that last sentence? I sincerely apologize. When did I step off the set of Mad Men? If I’m going to have to cook this dinner, someone better bring me a high-ball full of bourbon and a cigarette, pronto!).

Good News for the Hystericals

Stuff that grows on docks (or doesn't anymore) part IV.

Breaking news: John Oliver of the Daily Show reports chilly neck breezes to be the leading killer of British people.

I could write a post about the importance of scarves or, as John Oliver argued, ascots, for everyone, not just the British. Some days it seems like almost anything can be proven hazardous or healthful if the right study is conducted by the right (or wrong) people.

But I’m not going to write that post because I can write about this: last week, President Obama’s cancer panel  filed a report stating that the contribution of chemicals and pollutants to the growing rate of cancers has been “grossly underestimated.” New hope and validation in the land of the hysterical.

The report also said that “With the growing body of evidence linking environmental exposures to cancer, the public is becoming increasingly aware of the unacceptable burden of cancer resulting from environmental and occupational exposures that could have been prevented through appropriate national action.” Appropriate national action… That would be so awesome.

This from a Washington Post article: “Children are particularly vulnerable because they are smaller and are developing faster than adults, the panel found. The report noted unexplained rising rates of some cancers in children, and it referred to recent studies that have found industrial chemicals in umbilical-cord blood, which supplies nutrients to fetuses. ‘To a disturbing extent, babies are born ‘pre-polluted,’ the panel wrote.”

The end result was a recommendation that the government overhaul the laws regulating the chemical industry. Wouldn’t that be something? 

Murky at Best

It's even brighter in real life.

On Tuesday our tiny, jail cell of a powder room was painted. It’s navy blue stripes with matte and gloss finishes except for an apple green ceiling and accent wall. It’s awesome. I’ve been snickering to myself, like I have a secret, all week. I have an apple green wall. It’s not a big one but it’s bright green. I’m so clever, artistic, daring. I’m so damn pleased with myself.

It’s a good thing my bathroom is making me so happy because every time I turn on the news and listen to the reports of the oil spilling into the gulf, I have to hold back sobs. And this Tylenol recall business… Hey, Johnson & Johnson, what the hell is going on over there?

In April, FDA inspectors stopped by the manufacturing plant for Children’s Tylenol, Motrin, Benadryl and Zyrtec for a routine inspection and found problems with “quality-control methods and manufacturing processes, including a failure to track customer complaints and spot trends that may signal systemic problems, a lack of written procedures and a failure to adequately train employees.” A routine inspection? You’d think they’d get things in order for the inspectors; you know, tidy the place up and make it look real nice. Maybe they did, maybe this was the plant looking its best. 

Also this: “Federal investigators found that raw materials had ‘known contamination’ with unspecified bacteria and ‘were approved for use to manufacture several finished lots of Children’s and Infant’s Tylenol drug products.’”

Apparently they’ve been receiving complaints about a moldy, musty, or mildew-like odor, murkiness and complaints of nausea, stomach pain, vomiting and diarrhea since 2008. “The company said the smell was caused by a chemical called ‘2,4,6-tribromoanisole (TBA),’ which is applied to wooden pallets that are used to transport and store packaging materials.” Super.

Here’s what all this means: (1) throw away all your infant and children’s Motrin, Tylenol, Benadryl and Zyrtec. It’s all been recalled. (2) It’s time to hoard generic children’s pain reliever. Buy some while you can because who knows when J&J will get their act together and start manufacturing again. For more info…

If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my happy place.

The Basics

I'm not always good.

Over Easter weekend, Josie’s grandma sent her a beaded bracelet. I was sitting at Josie’s little table, my knees tucked comfortably under my chin, when Josie decided Mommy should wear the bracelet. I pulled my fingers together and she slid it onto my wrist. Then she took one step back, crossed her arms, tilted her head to one side and then to the other and said, “Oh, cute!”

I don’t know exactly when she saw me do that but it was clearly me. No question. We’ve moved into the mimic phase. Speaking of little mimics, I have a funny story to share: one day when my sister went to pick up her two-and-a-half-year-old from daycare, my niece pulled a baggie of snacks out of her bag, held it up and said, I kid you not, “These aren’t my f*cking goldfish.” Gee, I wonder where she picked up that sentence construction and vocabulary. Ah, I do love that story.

My point: I’ve been trying to be a good girl. I try not to curse… often, I wash my hands frequently, and I try to eat well and get plenty of sleep.

I haven’t always been a good eater. I was on an elimination diet – no gluten, dairy, soy, sugar, egg or nuts – when I was diagnosed with cancer. I had chronic abdominal pain and gi problems and I thought of food as something that made me sick. I ate plain chicken and steamed vegetables. I drank distilled water. That was it. I was all knees and elbows and weighed 30 pounds less than I do now.   

After my cancer diagnosis, a nutritionist pointed out that if I didn’t start eating, and stop losing weight, I wouldn’t be able to get chemo. And then where will you be? Not much later, I saw a naturopath who told me the most important things I could do were eat and sleep.

These two statements revolutionized my approach to health. I had always thought of diet and nutrition as vaguely important, but in my previous healthier days, I ate primarily for pleasure or to fill my stomach. Gradually, I began to think of eating as an opportunity to stay healthy through chemo and to boost my immune system.

Even when I got busy and run-down from treatment, my goals were clear. Meal planning, grocery (and sometimes handbag) shopping, and cooking, activities that used to be conducted on a time available basis, were suddenly worth cancelling plans to accomplish.

Let’s just stop there and think about this: cancelling plans so you can go to the grocery store.

Is there anything more important than your health? Eating and sleeping, these are the skills I want my little mimic to learn.

Now tell me about you. Do you make eating and sleeping priorities? Have I told you how much I love it when you leave me comments? Have I mentioned how cute you look today?

48% Fatter

Perhaps you're wondering where that spare tire came from.

One of the things that bloggers are supposed to be good at is taking the news, quickly distilling it, providing an opinion and sending it back out into the world. The key word here: quickly. I’m just catching on to that whole idea. I tend to read something, mull it over, check my email, read about it again, maybe eventually write something, take some pictures, send it to someone to proofread, eat some dinner, then maybe, eons later, post it.

The news on high-fructose corn syrup (HFCS) has been one of these issues. There’s lots of mouth-breathing going on over here (and not just because I’m thinking hard, but because Josie is potty-training and you know what that means: poop. Lots of uncontained poop.)

All this to say: oops, sorry for the delay but here’s the news in case you haven’t heard.

A Princeton Research team discovered that rats with access to HFCS and rat chow gained 48% more weight (mostly in the abdomen) than rats with access to cane sugar and rat chow. Did you hear that people? 48%. I did all that thinking and mulling and mouth breathing for nothing because I just don’t really have anything to add. 48% kinda speaks for itself, no?

One more thing, along with the weight gain came an increase in circulating triglycerides, and an increase in risks of developing, high blood pressure, coronary artery disease, diabetes and (wait for it wait for it) cancer. Doesn’t it always come back to cancer?

Gluten-Free Guide

I went to the woods and played with my camera this weekend.

Seriously, being gluten-free is not the end of the world. You will not starve. You will still eat pancakes. No babies will die. Listen up, here’s your list of substitutes:

  • Brown rice pasta is fine. This brand is the one I like. The best part: the tag line is “Gluten Free Joy!” I love that. Love it.
  • I use Bragg liquid aminos instead of soy sauce. Yes, I even bring my own bottle into sushi restaurants. Just doing my best to live up to the label of self-sustaining high-maintenance.  
  • I drink this almond milk. I know, cow’s milk doesn’t contain gluten but those with celiac often have an allergy to dairy as well. This one is really the best nut beverage of its kind.   
  • I use this “bread” for toast. Really it’s nothing like toast or bread at all. Banish that thought from your mind and just go with this hard crusty thing that takes twice as long to brown. I like millet the best. You can find it in the refrigerated section of most natural food stores. 
  • I hear that this kind of “bread” is best for sandwiches.  I think they sell it at Whole Foods.
  • I don’t eat a lot of sweets or baked goods but I hear Pamela’s has some great mixes.
  • Bob’s Red Mill has some good gluten-free mixes and gluten-free oats. Oats are hotly debated in the gluten-free world. They’re often processed in the same facilities that process wheat products. Some say that even if oats are not contaminated by the facility they still contain gluten. Cut them out to be safe and test them later.
  • These are my favorite crackers. The first few times I had them I thought they were terrible. They really grow on you. Give em a try. 
  • I use brown rice flower for a cooking substitute – usually as a thickener in gravy.
  • I love this bar. It’s gluten free and contains almond butter, date paste and organic bio sprouts (whatever the hell those are). Bio-sprout joy! Yum! 
  • I didn’t eat pizza for about five years until I found this: Garlic Jim’s gluten-free pizza. The first time I had it, I put a piece on my plate and commanded silence from Paul and Josie (nearly impossible) so I could appreciate the historic moment. It was heaven. It was a monumental for me (and my waistline). They deliver to my house. Do you hear that people? I can get gluten-free pizza delivered. Oh, gluten-free joy!
  • We eat a lot of quinoa around here. I substitute it for couscous in lots of recipes and it works pretty well. I’ll post one for you to try in a few days. OK?

Hey, all you gluten-free-ers, post your tips and favorite products or recipes in the comments. Send this link to your gf friends and get them to post their favorite tips. Share the love.

Gluten-free joy to you!

Plaque-Loving Raisin-Eaters

Spinning Out of Control

Whenever Josie and I arrive somewhere by car, Josie asks for ‘one big and one widdle’ raisin to take outside. As soon as I put the car into park, I start digging through the tub of raisins I keep in the console looking for the extremes. When we get down to the bottom of a carton, and I have a bunch of picked-through medium-sized raisins, it can get tricky, but I’m not above flattening/stretching some and squishing others.

When we arrive at the dentist’s office for Josie’s first teeth cleaning, we complete our ritual before going inside. The hygienist meets us in the waiting area and reads a picture book about their office and the cleaning and tells her everything they are going to do. They have little games to play with the water thing and the suction. Truly gifted people. It’s all going so well. We’re having such a lovely time.

Then the hygienist asks what Josie eats for snack. I mention raisins. Raisins? The hygienist puts her hand to her chest and practically gasps (she may, in fact, have gasped) and begins a rant about the sugar and the sticky getting lodged in the crevasses of Josie’s teeth. For god sake woman, stop with the raisins.

I’m thinking: raisins are good for her, raisins are good for her, raisins are good for her… I manage to say something benign and non-committal like: I see your point. But this is not enough, she wants a commitment.

Have I mentioned that I have good teeth? They may not be pretty but they work real well. I don’t have any cavities. One dentist told me I had really effective plaque-reducing saliva, and I’ve grown a little cocky. I have a hard time getting worked up over tooth decay. But Josie doesn’t have my teeth or my super-duper saliva.

Then the dentist comes out and continues the sermon on the perils of dried fruit. When she’s done she looks to me for a commitment, for a confirmation that I got the message. A very rational voice in my head is saying: just nod and smile, nod and smile. Then: don’t do it. Then: for god sake, woman, keep your mouth shut. But I can’t. I say: Raisins are a good source of iron and fiber and she tends toward constipation. 

Oh god, more about the sticky –the raisin-damning continues. She goes into her office and comes back with a picture of a tooth crevasse and toothbrush bristles skimming over the top to demonstrate the brush cannot get down in there. You see lady? Can’t you see the bristles don’t get down there.   

I’m stubborn and continue to defend the raisin. I understand that they’re not good from a dental-hygiene standpoint but I’m trying to take the whole body, her whole system into account and the raisin really does have a lot to offer as far as transportable snack foods go. They come in cute little boxes or tubs to suit your needs. They can be easily handed into the back seat while driving. They come in a variety of shapes and sizes. Some big. Some widdle.

Next thing I know she’s talking about raisins and gummy-bears as if they’re the same thing. Fine. Fine! I’ll buy her some goddamn sunflower seeds, but I won’t like it and neither will she.

Then it comes time for fluoride. The dentist tells me that Josie’s teeth have not calcified properly. They’re sticky (I wonder how many times a day she uses this word) and already starting to decay. Josie really needs fluoride. I wasn’t prepared for this discussion. You’d think I would be, I’m at a dentist after all, but she’s only two and I didn’t think they gave it to kids this young. But, of course, this raisin-hater dentist wants to apply fluoride to Josie’s teeth.

By then I’m broken-down. I’m beaten. I remember reading that babies and toddlers should use toothpaste without fluoride until they can spit it out. I mumble a question about the systemic effects of giving a young child fluoride. They apply it directly to her teeth, but will the amount she incidentally swallows be harmful to her system? The dentist tilts her head and gives me a blank stare. Eventually she responds that too much fluoride can leave brown spots on teeth. Once again, only about the teeth. (I must say that she is a damn good dentist. Perhaps she should be called a tooth-advocate.) At this point I give up and Josie has the fluoride.

When I get home I look it up, and imagine my surprise, when I don’t find too much hysteria about applying fluoride to teeth. There’s some concern with formula-fed babies getting too much fluoride for their little bodies in tap water (oops, too late now). And there is some concern about over-fluoridated water, but really not much talk of fluoride applied directly to the teeth.

Maybe that dentist was right. I guess now I’ll have to go buy a mixture of roasted pumpkin (big) and sunflower (widdle) seeds to keep in my car. But I still reserve the right to serve her dried fruit whenever the hell I feel like it, damit.

Overgrown

Our house was built in the 60’s. It was maintained for 40 years, then trashed for five and hastily remodeled before we bought from a construction company two years ago. The remodelers found the yard a wasteland of debris, and by the time they were finished they’d removed five dumpsters of junk and blackberry vines. But before all that, one family had tended and loved that garden for forty years.

The Plum

When we arrived, the property was a nearly clean slate with only a few old hearty plants – an ancient, moss-covered dogwood, a cherry, a plum, and a hawthorn. I could see the character of the gardeners that came before me in what remained. Near the fence were two Japanese maples, one with green leaves and one with red, that had been trained to twist around each other so they formed one two-toned unified shape above the trunk. The same technique was used on the old lilacs, with half of the tree blooming early and half late in the season.

There was a sprinkler system.  It seemed to work, except the heads were all broken or missing and water shot in every direction – primarily away from the needy plants. I replaced the heads but for that first summer, with a new house and a six-month-old, I didn’t do much planting or maintenance. It was all I could do to water on the hot days.

The Trillium

After a year of semi-regular water, mysterious plants began to emerge from the ground – a cluster of trillium next to the new fence, hyacinth, daffodils, and the dogwood bloomed delicate pink flowers. Under the stairs the ground was covered with heart shaped leaves and tiny pink cyclamen. Near the deck was a cluster of daisies and another of iris. I started to see how the previous gardeners had used the space. The cutting flowers were in the bed near the deck and stairs. The roses were in the side yard and the shrubs were lined up against the fence. Except for a few months every winter, there was always something in bloom.

The Cyclamen

We’d been in the house about eighteen months when the wisteria bolted from the dirt, its vines all needy and grabby, looking for the trellis it used to climb. I found a bamboo lattice and when I placed it next to the plant, I could see how it must have looked in its glory days, with purple flowers draped over the deck rail.

The Wisteria

Now that we’re settled and Josie is two, I’m able to do a little more work in the garden. We’ve built vegetable beds in the side yard. Frequently while I plant, prune, trim, train and water I think of the family that lived here and loved this garden for forty years. I know from their mail that he was a veteran of the Navy. I imagine him as a guy’s guy. I picture him building the sprinkler system and her tending the cut flowers. I can see them together but I cannot figure out who had the vision, the foresight, and the persistence to twist those trees together. Maybe it wasn’t him or her alone. Maybe it was something they did together.

I imagine they used chemical fertilizers, that’s the way people did things then, the nitrogen giving the plants a boost of short-lived green growth. I wonder if they used pesticides, wiped out the beneficial microbes and organisms in the dirt. It’s likely they treated the lawn, and if they did, when it rained the leads, toxins, heavy metals from all this “help” washed downhill the few blocks to the lake where the couple swam in the summer. 

Then I think about the years when the yard was overgrown with ivy and blackberries, when none of the plants were given any attention, when many of them withdrew into the dirt to wait for better days, and I realize those years of recovery, when the dirt could regain some of its natural composition, were one of the best things that could have happened to this yard. 

There’s still a lot of work to do in our garden. I hope this year to get the vegetables in the beds for cool season planting, to prune the weigela and the lilacs, and to plant some peonies in the bed of cut flowers. We plan to live in this house for a long time and sometimes I wonder about who will love it next, if they will care for the yard. I hope that I will be lucky enough to tend this yard for forty years, and that I will leave my mark in the form of strong branches and dirt that will continue to give for many years after I am gone.

PS  – This post is for the Green Moms Carnival on Gardening hosted on April 12 by Green Talk. Check it out!

Hey Everyone, Let’s Panic!

By now you must all know about BPA, right? If not (are you trapped under something heavy?), Bisphenol A is a chemical that, among other things, makes hard plastic bottles shatterproof and is found in the lining of most cans and food packaging.

On Monday, Washington State voted to ban BPA in products for children under the age of 3. Similar restrictions are in place in Chicago, Minnesota, Connecticut and Suffolk County in New York. In Congress, a bill has been filed that would block BPA from all food and drink packaging. Those wise Canadians banned BPA in baby bottles in 2008.

90% of us have this stuff in our bodies and recent studies have found a presence in the majority of newborn babies. In the last 50 years, dozens of studies have linked BPA to health problems, including abnormal growths and tumors in animals. Some studies say BPA alters healthy breast cells, turning them into abnormal cancer cells. Other studies say BPA contributes to tumor growth by mimicking estrogen in the body.

My cancer was hormone positive. That means there were teeny-tiny receptor sites on the outside of my cancer cells that estrogen would bind to. The abundance of estrogen (naturally occurring and from BPA and other toxins) in my system may have accelerated my tumor’s growth.

This is how my war, not just against cancer, but against estrogen began. Chemo drugs shut down my ovaries. After treatment, I started receiving injections to stay post-menopausal but the drug didn’t always work as planned, and I popped in and out of medically-induced menopause multiple times.

Let me take a moment to acknowledge how wrong it is for a person to go from post-menopausal to pre-menopausal. It’s like changing the rotation of the earth and moving from winter back to fall. You can imagine the mood swings. Picture me with my hands clutching my mother’s collar screaming at her to clean my fridge. Right this minute. I sounded like my two year old (I guess some relationships never change). Just do it LADY. 

I also started avoiding BPA by drinking from glass and stainless steel containers. If I hadn’t had all that fake estrogen in my system, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten cancer at 31 or, if I had, maybe it wouldn’t have been hormone positive.  

Let me be clear: I’m not saying I believe BPA definitively caused my cancer. I don’t believe any one thing causes cancer. I am saying there is a good chance BPA played a part in its development.   

But enough about me, back to the topic at hand. Perhaps you’re asking yourself why Washington state is banning BPA, isn’t this the FDA’s job? In past years the FDA has maintained that BPA is completely safe based largely on the findings of two industry-funded studies. In January the FDA reversed their position and they have expressed concern about the effects of BPA.

Then this from the Washington Post: 

FDA officials also said they were hamstrung from dealing quickly with BPA by an outdated regulatory framework.

Awesome. And then this:

One administration official privy to the talks said the FDA is in a quandary. “They have new evidence that makes them worried, but they don’t have enough proof to justify pulling the stuff, so what do you do?” said the official, who spoke on the condition of anonymity. “You want to warn people, but you don’t want to create panic.”

Sure, let them eat poison but, for god sake, don’t freak anybody out.

Must We Be Creepy?

We're ALWAYS Happy

While on vacation, we manage to meet up with some friends for a birthday party. My friends’ kids, two boys, are three and almost five and nice, sedate, sorts. Totally foreign.

The party is at my friend’s in-laws’ house, which is filled with white couches and tall free-standing vases… balanced on pedestals… and filled with decorative sticks… Josie loves a good party and runs from one terrifyingly crushable object to another with me trailing behind her whispering in my most compulsive, creepy, mommy voice – these are not our things. These things belong to our hosts. We must respect our hosts and their things.

Oh, sure Mom, I should respect their things, why didn’t you just say so? I’m totally old enough to grasp that concept.

Just as soon as I’m done explaining why bubbles don’t have feelings, I’m going to explain the concept of respect. I’m sure she’s ready. Then we’ll teach her to tend bar. (Yes, sweetie, that’s right, the green jigger. Good work! Now run along and fetch Mommy a slice of lime.)

The next day, still on vacation, while sitting in the sun reading my magazine, I come across a cartoon that has a picture of mother and child on a playground and says Mommy needs to get mad at you in a weird calm voice now. (I wish I could embed it here but I would have to pay the New Yorker $450 for that right.) This was exactly how I felt the night before, and really, how I feel most of the time.

Why is yelling forbidden? Not that I yell often, but isn’t there a time and a place? Dangers, for example? Or instances of extreme frustration? Sometimes it’s the only way to get the point across. Sometimes the kid needs to know how much trouble she is in. Sometimes nothing else works.

Shouldn’t we be free to show the whole range of emotions to our children? Can’t we be loving and happy and nurturing but also sometimes frustrated and angry and just pissed off? Can I write a whole blog post consisting only of questions? Perhaps.

My point is this (I think): why do we have to act all weird? This is how life is. It’s tough, and if we argue and get frustrated and then reconnect and work things out, aren’t we better off for it?

Can I get a hell yes and a fist pump from all the angry mommies in the house?