Steele (the Day)

This, or nothing at all.

// February 1st, 2012 // 4 Comments » // Family, My Fabulous Life

Feel like I should post more and having rambling thoughts – probably because I’m doing anything in my power to not implode because my phone is broken and I haven’t my calendar handy for meetings for three days.

Phone fail. “Your insurance doesn’t allow you to get an immediate replacement if your phone stops working, only if you break it.” Well ok then, perhaps I should have smashed it on the cement floor. In the meantime, I’m carrying a circa 1999 “replacement” that smells like old, stale cigarettes, won’t let me pick up voice mail, and I have no access to email or my contacts. Thank you, carrier that rhymes with “Glint.”

Upside: I get to write a post about it. Wahhh, WAHHH. And I fully realize this is a First World Problem.

The annoyed gym rat: I’m slugging along on the elliptical at the gym last night and this pretty ponytailed older lady (my age and wearing way fewer clothes) comes up to me and asks me how much longer I’m going to be on the machine. Told her I’d be done in about 25 minutes. She took her Coach gym bag to a treadmill, changed her shoes and proceeded to walk. Fifteen minutes later she went to the weight machines (toting her gigantic Coach bag – they make gym bags??) and changed into another pair of shoes and lifted for a bit.  After the elliptical, I grabbed my water bottle and Walmart fleece and hopped on a treadmill, and she finally got to the elliptical that was right in front of my treadmill. But..

…not until she changed into another pair of shoes! Taken from (you guessed it) her COACH BAG. I was feeling rather like a slob in my oversized hot pink “Knock Out Breast Cancer” t-shirt and old warm-up pants.

Redemption: The gleam of the price tag swaying in the breeze on her spiffy little tank top. She was obviously new at this game, but I don’t know how she figured she needed four pair of shoes. But I guess I do know why she needed that huge bag. And the fact that we were  both at the gym gave us something in common. Perhaps we’ll become BFFs.

The overachieving husband: I needed some frozen corn for a dish I’m making for Bible study. The study is “Made to Crave.” The irony is not lost, but the requirement is healthy food. I was out of corn. I emailed RB “Any way you can stop and pick up a bag of frozen corn for me on the way home? Just one.” I put “just one” on purpose, because he always gets two of everything. I needed about a cup of corn. We all know what size bag one would normally get.

I found this in the freezer this morning.

FOUR pounds of corn. Walmart corn. I love how they show it in a colander and with the disclaimer “serving suggestion.” I don’t believe I’ve ever thought to serve corn in a colander before.

Shameless granddaughter promotion:

Harper got her first tooth yesterday. You can’t see it, of course, but I needed an excuse to post a Skype shot, along with her sweet mom and Sophie the Giraffe who returned from her unfortunate escape after eating Mexican food,  just in time to welcome that first tooth.

Tea today: Something green that didn’t have a label – the last of the bag. We shall call it “China Mystery”

#OneWord365: Alive

// January 4th, 2012 // 8 Comments » // Faith, Family, My Fabulous Life

Lamenting to a(n) (imaginary) friend that I’d miserably failed my 2011 word (Seek), I went back and read that post. Failed? No. Still in seek mode? Yep. Just because the year’s over doesn’t mean I stop focusing on that word, and I feel like I’ve come a long way. I just haven’t blogged about it; about much of anything, really.

I’m OK with that. It’s not like blog was my focus word.

My word this year?

Sara was one of the reasons I chose this word, because she truly was one of the most joyful, alive people I’ve ever known, even as she edged toward Heaven’s gate. She died with grace, dignity, and humility. But she remains alive in spirit as I frequent her words that continue to lift me.

I have also been inspired and moved by the lovely Shauna Ahern, as I sought out cooking/baking ideas when gluten reared its ugly head within my body. In that seeking process, I fell in love with her zesty passion for life, love, and community as written so eloquently in this post. I’ve dog-eared her cookbook, which reads like a novel, but is her true story of love and sacrifice.

Today I sit on the edge of the unknown, waiting for a diagnosis of a loved one with a potentially life-stealing disease. I think of all He gave to the world through Sara who embraced her own disease by giving glory to God. Her one word last year? Praise. My prayer is that our remaining days, months, or years (only God knows – only God decides) we all choose to be alive, keeping our spirits and attitudes awake,  animated, sensitive. Each of us has numbered days. Let us not be the walking dead.

Just like the visual thesaurus that guided me to Seek last year, I look there again for direction: “mentally perceptive and responsive,” “capable of erupting,” (nailed that one!), and “full of life and spirit.”

Alive.

Whatever my circumstances.

Tea today: Marrakesh Mint

The Wedding

// November 13th, 2011 // 10 Comments » // Faith, Family, My Fabulous Life

A million posts about our daughter’s wedding have rattled in my head before I could even venture to click on “new post.”

Just get started.

The few weeks leading up to it flew faster than I ever thought it was possible for time to fly. One of my favorite parts was that I would hear from Kate almost every day about something related to the planning. I love having her name pop up on my phone. Long gone are the days it sent a panic through my gut, fearing drama. Her personal, spiritual, and emotional maturation have far exceeded what I once thought possible.

I should have known better.

The three days preceding the wedding are a fog. Luckily there are some brain-jarring moments and photos to help me out.

The days were guided ever-so-gracefully (despite aforementioned near-beheading) by my awesome daughter-in-law, who was also Kate’s Matron of Honor. I heard from her almost every day, too. Loved that. And really, how beautiful is she? That beauty runs deep. Truly, my son married up.

I was kept on track by a spreadsheet of endless lists, including the one that said “Pack Spanx.” Because in the midst of this wonderful sacrament of marriage, one must remember to wear Spanx. Turns out the Spanx sort of argued with the shutter pleats on my dress and I had pleats a-flipping most of the night, but who cares? Checking “pack Spanx” off the list was cathartic.

A moment that grounded me in the meaning of the day was after the clamoring and giggling of the girls getting their make-up done in the hotel room. Sara, a dear friend and bridesmaid, offered to pray with us as we sat around the table cluttered with water bottles and M & M’s. In that moment, it all came together and I felt a peace that only conversation with God can give. I want to be like Sara when I grow up – never too busy or distracted to pause for a prayer of gratitude and praise. I’m not very good at that sometimes.

My cousin Ellie, who is Kate‘s namesake and was also my Maid of Honor, made the jewelry for both Kate and me. Kate chose her as one of the reception hostesses. She was an ever-present source of support, and left a sweet note on my pillow the night of the wedding, a gesture that blessed me and reminded me again how much thicker blood is than water. And how cousins can be best friends and near-sisters. Even though you still bicker about who gets to hold Harper next.

I really don’t know what I envisioned for the day, but it was perfect. Oh sure, there were last minute changes for the ushers, but being seasoned at their jobs they handled it well. My boys are awesome. I was at the mercy of the planning, coordinators, and organizers, and it was all unfolding as it should. My assignment was to greet, walk down the aisle, listen, cry, walk back down the aisle,  greet some more, go to reception.

I felt comfortably inconspicuous.

A bit alone.

Everyone had a job to do. Everyone was busy. My work was done, on many levels. I’d birthed, prayed, nursed, raised, taught, fought (yes, we fought), prayed, mentored, instructed, prayed, cried, advised, prayed, and loved this beautiful girl from the moment she arrived on Mother’s Day 32 years before. I’d left her in God’s hands long ago, knowing I was powerless to do only what He can do.  So I spent the several hours before the wedding just sitting in the chapel, alone, bare feet on cold cement, reflecting on this beautiful daughter of mine, never really mine to begin with, but loaned to me by Him. I thought about this God-breathed marriage, not merely a wedding. Ann Voskamp’s A Prayer for a Daughter had long been memorized, and I pulled the lyrical words randomly out of my memory throughout the day.

If you have a daughter, I dare you to pray that prayer and not weep.

May her vocation in this world simply be translation.
Translating every enemy into esteemed guest
Translating every countenance into the face of Christ
Translating every burden into blessing.

~Ann Voskamp

Kate was radiant the entire day, captured beautifully by skilled photographers, one of them Ryan’s cousin. Looking back at the videos, I am so proud of the person she has become, though she did not arrive there without trials, heartbreak, and tears. That’s how God shapes us. (Well, that and her Bridal Boot Camp which didn’t hurt her physical image one bit).

But the little girl woman I saw greeting guests as they exited was gracious, kind, and loving. The gratitude she expressed for them for was straight from the heart. I loved that they chose for us all to praise Him as one family, singing Hosanna along with the worship leader from their church. In the moment of silence after the song, a child in the congregation yelled “YAY!!!” Yes, that said it all. I love the look on Kate and Ryan’s faces as captured by Steph.

I’ve been dying to rehash the entire day with her. Every minute. Every thought. After dropping them at the airport early the following Monday as they jetted away on their honeymoon, I’ve thought of a million things I want to tell her or ask her. My restraint has been phenomenal. I won’t be that mother, or mother-in-law. God’s always had her first, but Ryan just took over second place.

Sigh. I may have lost that position a long time ago. That’s how it’s supposed to be.

A cord of three strands is not quickly broken. I am eternally grateful for that Third Strand among them that will be the foundation of their marriage.

I pray their marriage will be blessed with God’s love, defeated trials, continual forgiveness, mutual submission, forever love, and cousins for Harper. Because Grandma’s house is the place cousins go to become best friends.

Just ask Ellie and me.

Tea today: China Green, leftover from tea satchels they had as wedding favors

 

Absent, yet in the moment

// October 25th, 2011 // 3 Comments » // Faith, Family, My Fabulous Life

It’s no accident that there hasn’t been so much as a food re-post on this teeny internet real estate lately. Being off the grid has meant being in the moment for me. I needed some moments.

Sara’s flight left me empty and wordless. I’ve been Pinning for mindless distraction, sending recipes and wedding details to Evernote and getting my house cleaned and organized because when stress hits my brain, busy is what I do. I’ve traveled to babysit Harper and consider every minute with our little miracle pure joy. And believe it or not, the internet just isn’t busy enough for me. Physically, anyway. Who knew I could run like the wind?

Well, a breeze, perhaps.

Cobwebs, BE GONE. Closets, BE CLEANED. The spindles on the staircase are polished as if Kate will be descending those stairs like precious Annie in Father of the Bride.

I’ve forced my rabbit-trail brain to focus on detail after detail – I will not live these precious pre-wedding days ever again. I’ve taken extra care to not get sick  from sleep deprivation or junk food, even though I don’t remember the last time I was sick. A couple long nights of sleep don’t, however, keep you well-rested.

If anything gives me sniffles and snorts,I hope it’s the music and the sight of Kate on her wedding day. I hope it’s watching her dad walk her down the aisle (and secretly praying he doesn’t stop and talk to all the guests THEN). It’s watching my two handsome strapping boys usher in family and friends and friends we haven’t met yet. It’s going to be the sight of my beautiful daughter-in-law  witnessing as her matron of honor and recollecting all she has so unselfishly done for us to prepare for Kate’s perfect day. It’s going to be sniffling as I see ”Uncle RyRy” watch his bride come down the aisle and I just know he’ll grin so big that his eyes will shut because that’s what he does and it’s adorable.

That boy, he’s a born smiler. His mama did good. She raised happy. We are so blessed.

I’ve prayed for my daughter’s wedding day for 32 years. But it was only in the last few years that the prayer turned from “Please God, find her a nice husband who loves her deeply” to “Please God, prepare heart of the man you want for her, that he will love her over moon and back, but love You more. Prepare her heart to love You first, and him second.”

That’s the prayer that was answered; this time both God and I were on the same page. I feel one step closer to heaven.

As Ron Burgundy tirelessly scours 30 years of VHS tapes and photographs in the wee morning hours, we are winding down to the tearful (for me) production that will be know as “The Wedding Video.” Tearful because of sheer emotion – joy, gratitude, and precious memories.

I want to be present in every single moment. I do not want to forget a conversation, a friend, or a hug. So as I have prayed for Him to prepare Kate and Ryan for this sacrament, I pray now that He will keep me present in every moment of their day.

I don’t want to miss it.

(It is not a coincidence that Sara and Kate share the same birthday – just another nudge from Above.  Her presence will be there in a special way, which I will share later).

 I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.

3 John 1:4

Tea today: Mystic Dragon (The Spice and Tea Exchange)

Choosing a weekend of joy – for Gitz

// September 26th, 2011 // 14 Comments » // Faith, Family, My Fabulous Life

I’m telling this story as I would tell it to Sara, our Gitzen girl. Because I’m going to miss telling her this and she always wanted to hear about celebrations. It was how she connected to the outside world from inside her igloo condo. She would double over from the combination of laughter and pain and joy and pain (the pain…no, I will not miss her pain) as I would regale on the antics of life with Ron Burgundy while she sipped her Sonic lime slush and ate her Starburst. Because Sara’s gone to be with Jesus, and I find it oddly comforting that she left to meet Him in the middle of this whole weekend story thing. Because she will always be a part of MY story, making me forever grateful. I guess we all grieve a little differently, and that’s what makes the world go ’round. It doesn’t mean there were no tears here.

As if an 80 hour work week wasn’t enough for Ron Burgundy, we had plans to go to the Twin Cities for “an award thing.” Yep, that’s all he told me. So I googled (what all good wives do for men who tend to leave out details) and discovered we were going to see someone named Emmy.

Emmy. I’d like that name for my next granddaughter, thankyouverymuch.

We started out rough. I was up all night with, shall we say, a gastrointestinal upset of the Montezuma variety. Graveyard shift bellyaches are not for the faint of heart, but fortunately, there was some medication in the cabinet that expired in 2004. Bingo!

We got a late start Saturday, and we were flying through the house, throwing things in random bags that we just might need. We weren’t being Samsonite people; nope, we were bag people. And off we went for the four hour drive, which had the potential of the proverbial three-hour tour, seeing as how that pesky electrical tape keeps falling off the “service engine soon” light and we had to watch it the whole trip.

To say that we arrived in Minneapolis looking like a couple of rode-hard, put-away-wet hicks is an understatement. Shabby jeans, long sleeved t-shirts from a road race in 1996, high-mileage tennis shoes, no make-up (either of us!), we were only *this much* out of place at the fancy hotel. I stood a bit behind RB as he was visiting with the bellhop Joseph (not Joe) a handsome, freshly-shaven and well-postured young man in an expensive wool suit. And an ear piece. And clip board. The epitome of customer service, but more resembling the Secret Service.

There he was, my favorite multimedia journalist in too-big Walmart blue jeans, visiting with Joe (they were BFF within 30 seconds), discussing amenities in downtown Minneapolis, and tipping generously as he always does.

And his electric toothbrush, bigger than life, sticking out the back pocket of his jeans.

I mean We. Are. Classy. My biggest fear was that he would turn wrong and the stupid thing would start vibrating and buzzing right there. (to which Sara would have said “SHUT UUUUP!! He goes to the City in grunge and he puts up Christmas lights in a suit? What’s that about?” to which I’d reply, “Dorks make the best husbands.”)

whew. dodged that bullet. the toothbrush remained silent.

We were late arriving and missed dinner, but my stomach was still telling me “no” so we went to our hotel, quickly threw on our city clothes (him: tux. me: Spanx. both: deodorant) and grabbed a cab for the ceremony. “I’ll bet you looked fancy,” Sara would have said. “And you didn’t take a picture??” Yep, we did. But our feet looked better than our faces by then.

There were young female journalists in very short skirts with very big hair and those five-inch heels that keep podiatrists and orthopedic surgeons in business. I’d be acrophobic in some of those shoes. (At this point Sara and I would have hit up Zappos.com so I could show her all of the foot-deforming styles). Good thing those young ‘uns don’t have to deal with Spanx while wearing those. That’s way too much multitasking for the lower limbs.

About two minutes before RB was called to the stage, I got the text about Sara leaving her earthly home. I gasped audibly, as if I never realized it was actually going to happen. I let out a heavy sigh, feeling peace and almost literally seeing her fly heavenward. I was happy-sad-nervous-annoyed-proud-relieved-mournful and only a little nauseated. She was pain-free at last. Oh and look, RB’s up on stage! Where am I? It was an out-of-body experience, and only right that Sara would be a part of it in her own delightful flight-of-ideas sort of way.

He was nervous and felt like he botched his acceptance speech, but he didn’t. What an example to young journalists in the audience on work ethic, perseverance, and integrity. I was very proud. Lots of people said “I knew you when….” Sara was also one who “knew him when,” even before I knew her, back when he had hair and (his) teeth and Shep was a pup. And she would pull out a story of “I’ll never forget the time….” and tell me something that was only able to be told because it was a long time ago and it was safe now to tell, because the participating parties are long gone. Or how shocked she was to see  him on the news set in running shorts, Nikes, a tie and suit jacket, ready to deliver news with utmost professionalism, from the waist up. When they showed a video with some crazy outtakes, I thought how much Sara would love it. And laugh. And need a pain pill.

The weekend ended with laundry, a pot of soup, skyping with Harper, and a grease fire. You (and by you, I mean he) shouldn’t leave your (his) popcorn oil heating on the stove even if your wife hollers that your granddaughter is online and you want to babble and make stupid faces at her to see how she reacts. Good thing we have tall ceilings – those were some nasty flames. Fire 1, throw rug 0, smoke alarms 6. At least we know they work – all of them. Sara would have been gut-busting by this point and I’d have to apologize for causing her the pain and breathlessness but she’d tell me to keep going. “Time for a pain pill, Sara?” She always thought it was so funny that I get so annoyed when RB’s ADD made him leave water running and go to work, or leave the door open and go running for an hour. Like standing open. In the winter.

She would have wanted to see pictures and hear details and we would have sat on her bed with Riley begging for treats and flipped through my phone pics and gone down a million rabbit trails before finishing with me as the heroine (of course), putting out the grease fire with baking soda that expired three years ago (it’s still good for fires). But she would also want life to go on and for us to “Choose Joy” despite the heavy hearts we were both carrying and the big lumps in our throats that simply would not go away for the whole weekend.

Emmy. It’s a nice name. Gitz would love it. Not only did she choose joy, she delighted in the joy of others – many others. Such a big, loving heart will I never again see.

I miss you, Sara, but I do not miss the physical pain and hunger for air that you bore every day. I am so grateful that you are finally relieved of that. I rejoice in your Homecoming. I’ll come back here to tell you about the wedding.

Tea today: Green Ginger

gitzen girl: heavenbound

// September 16th, 2011 // 37 Comments » // Faith, Family, My Fabulous Life

Meet Sara. Sweet Sara. Likely if you’ve landed here, you already know her.

This is our story.

We met in a most unlikely place, under unlikely circumstances. I surmise that’s a trick God plays – throws people together to see if they’ll love each other well. So there we were, hanging out reading a post on Pete Wilson’s blog several years ago, and somehow, someway, we introduced ourselves and ended up hijacking the comments section and apologizing to Pete. He was most gracious. I’ve looked back to find that post and haven’t been able to. I don’t even remember what it was about – sorry again, Pete. I’m sure it was profound.

Sara and I quickly realized we had a lot of mutual acquaintances (makes for good gossip, but who does that?), she knew Ron Burgundy way back when he had hair, we lived just a few miles apart, and we shared a love for food. Well, we don’t love the same food, but We. Love. Food. I tried to convince her to eat mine (“Sara, this açai juice will go right to your cells!”) and she extolled the qualities of bacon and … milk gravy(?), which I had never heard of. She stood by the stove with George and Riley while I whisked and stirred and added more salt and we stuck our fingers in it and it was *this* close. “Just keep adding stuff ’til it looks right. That’s what Mom does.” This is indeed my way of cooking (Jane and I would get along famously), but I didn’t know what it was supposed to look like. She decided the problem wasn’t me; it was the almond milk. Stupid whey, anyway.

Our common food ground is fruit. She loves fresh fruit, and it tickled me to no end the first time I brought her a pomegranate. I mean, they had poms in the Bible, right?  “Where have these been?? Are they NEW??” “I’m pretty sure Jesus ate pomegranates, Sara. They may have even been put on the Ark. Just savor the explosion in your mouth.” “NO, I just want to EAT them!!”  Funny girl, that one. (I saved that in my journal because some day I knew I’d tell the internets about it).

I have a hundred stories like this, and I’m trying to keep this light in the looming shadow of my grief. As Sara takes steps closer to Heaven because of her 17-year chronic illness, my heart feels like lead in my chest. And Sara doesn’t want that. She told me on Tuesday she is not afraid, she is ready to go Home, she wants to see her dad. She wants to fly to Jesus’ arms. No more pain.

Who can blame her? This horrible disease robbed her of everything the world knows and gave her constant, debilitating pain.

But Sara knew differently.

She refused to let it rob her of her faith, her joy, her immense love for people, especially children, her laughter, and her trust in her future in Heaven. She never complained. In fact, she would apologize for hurting when she would suddenly writhe in pain. Being homebound placed no limits on her desire to reach across the world to make friends, support friends, love friends. Yes, the world.

Her mantra: Choose Joy. Choose Joy in spite of your circumstances.

If there’s such a person as a chronic giver, that’s Sara. She’s painted canvases as gifts, prayed for us, written blog posts, spent hours trying to straighten out my misunderstandings of her Catholic faith, created free digital artwork for others, gifted us with songs with the voice of an angel, and just loved us immensely, no matter what. She was always mailing packages of gifts everywhere across the country.

I never drove by Sonic without calculating the time it would take me to grab a lime slush and take it to her house, or see peaches in Sam’s without getting some for her. Lime slushes and peaches were her kryptonite. And watermelon. And bacon. I think she threw her love of bacon in there just to get my goat, knowing I’d try to feed her something healthier.

Through the pain, she would laugh. Sometimes we would laugh and it would cause her pain. Even in her weakened state on Tuesday, she maintained her laughter, her joy, her praise. She lovingly talked of Harper (the kid is 3+ months old and Sara is dying. Who does that?? Sara does.) It’s rather awkward when a dying friend cracks a joke, but I’ve been in that situation before with other friends. I apparently pick friends who think dying well is akin to living well. There, I’ve found my spiritual gift.

We laughed at her Tuesday medication-induced gem: “I hope when I get there God doesn’t change his mind and decide 17 years of this disease wasn’t enough and then BRINGS OUT THE NAILS!!”

My sweet Gitz, thank you for all you have given me. I grieve big because I love you big. I can feel you love me back. And thanks to your faithful example, I’m even more confident Where to turn, in both gratitude and grief. Thank you for allowing me into your life and to love immensely.

(not) Tea tonight: Sonic Lime Slush, of course

 

Functional Foodie Friday: Shrimp, Bok Choy and Peanuts over Coconut Jasmine Rice

// September 16th, 2011 // No Comments » // Faith, Family, Functional Foodie, My Fabulous Life

Note: this was a post in the hopper, scheduled to publish today. My heart is selfishly heavy as I, with literally thousands of others, await the news of the arrival of our dear friend Sara (@gitzengirl) in Jesus’ arms. Right now the words that could adequately reflect on the coincidental friendship we’ve shared are frozen in my heart. If I believed in coincidences, that is. Soon, perhaps. Please keep her close in prayer.

Sara would hate this recipe (no meat, no taters) – but she’s all about Choosing Joy, and the kitchen is one of my joy-choosing places. I love you, Sara. You’re the only one I ever made “milk gravy” for. And you always told me they have it in heaven. Really??

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s all in the prep – putting together a stir fry is nothing if not easy, especially if you’re a lover of chopping and dicing like I am. Sharp knives are one of my biggest joys.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Prepping your ingredients is key, you can do it ahead of time, and when it’s time to cook dinner, you’ll have it on the table in 5 minutes. Really.

I stole this recipe from one of my favorite food bloggers, Sanura Weathers from “My Life Runs on Food,” and made a few modifications based on what I had available. Actually, it’s pretty darn close. The coconut rice was real iffy for me, but I don’t think I’ve ever had such delectable flavor. Even if you don’t like coconut flavor, you will like this. It’s more nutty than anything, and almost the texture of a risotto.

I used brown jasmine rice, because I have no white rice here except sushi rice, and about a dozen other rices and grains in the pantry. This was my most likely choice.

And yes, Ron Burgundy ate it. Even said it was good. To me, it’s the epitome of freshness and nutrition and every bite had a different texture, different bit of flavor, different bit of heat. It was a fabulous explosion of creamy, nutty, crunchy, sweet and salty flavors. To him, it was … dinner. He doesn’t have the gustatory joy I seem to have been blessed with.

Shrimp, Bok Choy and Peanuts over Coconut Jasmine Rice
1 1/2 tsp canola oil
¼ cup dry roasted peanuts, roughly chopped
1 large garlic clove, minced
3 tbsp. fresh ginger, finely chopped
4 scallions, divide the white and the green parts (dice the white part and slice the green part)
2 jalapeños, seeds removed, finely diced
2 tbsp. Tamari sauce
1 tbsp. sesame seeds, toasted
1 lb. of large shrimp (I used cooked, frozen – fresh would be better)
1 lb. baby bok choy, cleaned and sliced ½ inch horizontally
1 lime, juiced

Toss the shrimp with Tamari and set aside. Warm canola oil over medium heat. Add the peanuts and sauté until golden brown. Add garlic and ginger. Stir for 30 seconds. Add the white part of the scallions, jalapeños, sesame seeds, and shrimp. Stir for 1 minute.

Add the bok choy and the lime juice. Continue cooking until the shrimp is done, about 2 to 3 minutes.

Spoon mixture over coconut rice. Garnish with scallion greens.

Coconut Jasmine Rice
1 tbsp. sesame oil
1 cup brown jasmine rice
14 oz. light coconut milk
white pepper, to taste

Soak rice for 30-60 minutes in warm water. Drain. In a pot, heat sesame oil until hot. Add rice and toss until fragrant. Pour coconut milk into the pot, adding water to make 2 cups of liquid. Season with pepper. Cover and bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cook for 30 minutes, then turn off the heat. Let rice sit covered until stir fry is ready. Fluff rice with a fork and serve.

Tea today: Trader Joe’s Jasmine

Functional Foodie Friday: Fasting

// August 5th, 2011 // 4 Comments » // Family, Functional Foodie, My Fabulous Life

I seriously only cooked a real meal one day this week – a crazy week to say the least. I’ve boycotted the grocery store because it just seemed there was enough between the freezer, pantry and garden to get by.

Sunday I threw together some black beans and rice so Ron Burgundy and I have been noshing on that when we’re here, which hasn’t been often. Instead of the requisite green pepper (would have required a trip to the store) I put in three “garden salsa” peppers, thinking they’d be fairly mild, along with one jalapeno, cooked black beans, brown rice, a couple of garden tomatoes, cumin, and some other herbs/spices that seemed to fit.

Dumb thing to do with 114 degree heat index, because there was nothing mild about that dish. Even steamed up my camera. Eating from the garden/pantry this week means we didn’t eat much (and by “we” I mean “I” because who knows how many times the autopilot F-150 went to Booger King). Kale chips. Fried green tomatoes. Leftover goat cheese. Vine-ripened tomatoes. Expired yogurt. It’s just too hot to eat, but I’m not complaining. Water is gold to me and I can’t get enough of it. And sometimes it’s a downright shame to go to the store when your pantry looks like this.

So in honor of a crazy week, we’re fasting on Functional Foodie Friday. And I bring to you, totally irrelevant…

Outtakes.

Even after all these years, he sometimes forgets the camera’s rolling. Harper, meet Grandpa. He brings the crazy. I just put the fun in dysfunctional.

Tea today: Trader Joe’s jasmine

In search of the perfect dress

// June 20th, 2011 // 8 Comments » // Family, My Fabulous Life

We’re coming up on another life-changing event in our family as our daughter will succumb to the season of wedded bliss this fall. This has meant multiple trips to DeMo (now called Harperville), stops at Trader Joe’s (nothing to do with a wedding, everything to do with food), and innumerable bank transfers, down payments, and decisions.

Wait … wedding. Trader Joe’s. Two Buck Chuck. I see another trip on the horizon.

Kate found her dress on the first shopping trip. She had bridesmaids dresses narrowed down to two within a few weeks. Flowers were easy (a rose is a rose). Cake was, well, a piece of cake (sorry). It actually looks a lot like her dress.

No, not this. Don’t ask. It’s hard to explain.

On one of our excursions, I found the near-perfect dress.  It wasn’t the exact color I wanted, but the clerk assured me it came in the darker shade. As I emerged from the dressing room, both my daughter and DIL said “It makes you look really skinny!”

Sold.

Upon placing my order, however, we discovered there were none of the darker color available. I was so disappointed, but kept thinking I’d find it somewhere. On the way home, it occurred to me.

Ebay!!

I couldn’t wait to get the “model” number of the dress and enter it into Ebay’s search engine. Right away, two hits. SCORE! Numbers are pretty unique things to Ebay products.

Unfortunately, my results were two of these:

It’s pretty obvious this won’t make me look all that skinny. And where am I going to put my kleenex?

When you get exactly what you’re looking for, it may not be what you want after all.

Tea today: Trader Joe’s Pomegranate White

 

Snickers Goes Home

// June 13th, 2011 // 22 Comments » // Family, My Fabulous Life

I’m not sure where cats go when they die, other than the city-required 4 feet under ground. The fact that they’re not in heaven has pretty much been established by most men of the cloth. Something about when you get to heaven, it’s so wonderful you don’t need cats. If they’re in heaven, I’m sure their fur won’t stick to your chap stick in the middle of the night when they crawl across your face.

Our cat Snickers went to wherever-is-home last weekend. She was a sweet cat – to us. To everyone else she was 1) non-existent because she rarely made an appearance when others were around or 2) just a grouchy cat. She was the poster cat for conditional love.

We got her from the Humane Society when she was about 5 months old, having spent those months roaming the streets and probably not treated very well. Sort of the Grisabella of the Cedar Valley. She wasn’t all that friendly then (she hissed all the way home) but gradually warmed up to Ron Burgundy and me, becoming the sweetest most lovable thing, and Lucky’s best friend. Almost two years to the day when Lucky went to The Bridge (yes, dogs go to heaven. I read it on the internet), it was her turn.

Because eventually we all get our turn.

She really hadn’t been the same since Lucky left – depressed, I imagine. She really loved that dog, and vice versa. She lost weight and didn’t eat much right after he left, but then seemed to perk back up again. In the past month or so she lost 3 pounds, which is a lot for a 9 pound cat. She got pretty bony and it was apparent that something was up with her breathing. Our vet confirmed on x-ray that she had lung cancer, and we didn’t want her to suffer any more than she already had. Her coughing spells were more frequent and she could only walk a few steps before she had to stop and catch her breath.

And to think she never even smoked.

We did take her home from the vet that day, knowing within a couple of days we’d be back. We prepared a place for her, at the top of the hill, pondside, by Lucky. They’ll be happy they’re together again, and though this house will be less hairy, we will miss her. I think we sort of needed her around, even though all she did was lay around all day and rest afterwards.

RB has promised me a memorial video like he did for Lucky. I have her pictures and music ready to go – hopefully you’ll see something posted here soon, but it won’t be much video. She was a videographer’s nightmare since she didn’t move much.

I had to laugh – one evening a week or so before she died, she was snuggled up to RB on the couch when out of the blue he said “She inspires me. She’s so content being lazy.” No kidding.

RIP, Snickers. You’re home. Up up up to the Heaviside Layer. You were truly “the mystical divinity of unashamed felinity.”

This post is part of the One Word at a Time Blog Carnival hosted by the infamous Peter Pollock. Click here to see the other entries.

Tea today: Trader Joe’s green