For the first time in the years since I noticed its existence, yesterday I went to the Tai Li Asian foods grocery store. I found pre-fried tofu, not wanting to try frying it myself as I haven't figured out the proper technique. I was looking for Kombu, the sea vegetable mentioned in cookbooks for making cooked beans come out tasty and tender.
There was a surprising number of varieties of dried seaweeds available, as well as dried chilies and dried sea creatures, and so on. I asked the proprietor for Kombu, but he did not recognize the name. I did buy a package I found towards the back, which answered the description of flat leaves. When I took it home and showed Pearl she said, yes, that's Kombu. Yes!
Just cooked some beans in the pressure cooker, still a relatively new process to me, and working on some beets [they're off the heat.] Will see if the beans taste any differently with the Kombu.
The first time I went to an Asian market in my old neighborhood, trying not to look like the curious white geek that I am, the gross-out item was chicken feet. I learned many years later that in China, at least, they are fried and sold on trains [along with duck feet] as a snack, similar to the pork rinds concept.
One year we took our troop of Junior Girl Scouts on a field trip to the Lincoln District of 38th Street in Tacoma, looking at Weird Asian Foods such as little packages of wet jelly-like candies and so forth. We ended up at the Vien Dong Vietnamese Restaurant eating egg rolls; both recognizable and affordable for a troop of girls. I think it was one of the best activities we did with them.
Later yesterday as I shopped at the Fred Meyer in the Natural Foods section, reading labels and seeing that the interesting chik'n [fake chicken] patties actually contain egg yokes, I felt like a foreigner in my own land. [When the Cambodian refugees first arrived, unable to read English, they had to wonder what was sold in jars with pictures of babies on them.] I conceived the idea of an alien confronted with the odd concept of eating animal products. They're so pervasive. I'm not "there yet" but the idea of eating meat and dairy products is becoming progressively stranger as time goes by.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Coda:Leeks All Week/ Soup For Sniffles
I didn't have that much of a runny nose, but I liked the alliteration.
I ate that Aphus of the Glaphus soup all week. It kept getting better; by the end of the week I was adding a carrot, mushrooms, and stirring in an entire bag of spinach [funny how spinach just melts into a soup] and adding lime at the end, even sweeter than lemons. I was using not just 3-4 but eight or nine cloves of garlic. And kept on with the delicious buckwheat noodles. Just better and better. Grating all that garlic and chopping all those onions cleared out my sinuses well.
Enayat loved it too.
Back to work with only a weaker voice than usual, still a bit feverish, a few sneezes, but not such a sore throat and less of a cough.
Don't worry, it can't be caught online.
I ate that Aphus of the Glaphus soup all week. It kept getting better; by the end of the week I was adding a carrot, mushrooms, and stirring in an entire bag of spinach [funny how spinach just melts into a soup] and adding lime at the end, even sweeter than lemons. I was using not just 3-4 but eight or nine cloves of garlic. And kept on with the delicious buckwheat noodles. Just better and better. Grating all that garlic and chopping all those onions cleared out my sinuses well.
Enayat loved it too.
Back to work with only a weaker voice than usual, still a bit feverish, a few sneezes, but not such a sore throat and less of a cough.
Don't worry, it can't be caught online.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Hot Aphus of the Glaphus Soup
Felled by a cold. Yesterday I worked sick. I slept in too late to give two hours notice calling in, and knew that staffing is hard anyway on a weekend. So here I am sick on my day off. Phooey.
Whenever my maternal grandfather was ill he had "some kind of aphus of the glaphus."
I made soup with all the best healing ingredients: garlic, onion, lemon and so on.
Hot Aphus of the Glaphus Soup:
3-4 cloves garlic, grated--as much garlic as you can stand
1 cubic inch ginger root, grated
one entire onion, chopped
one leek, chopped
a sprinkle of dill, coriander
two tablespoons miso
two bundles of Japanese wheat and buckwheat noodles
5 cups water
juice from one lemon
salt to taste
Saute the garlic, onion, and ginger root in olive oil, then add water [gently] and leek. Bring to boil, stir in dill and coriander, miso and noodles. Simmer until noodles are soft. Turn off heat and stir in lemon juice, fishing out the lemon seeds that fall in. Salt to taste. Good for what ails you.
Whenever my maternal grandfather was ill he had "some kind of aphus of the glaphus."
I made soup with all the best healing ingredients: garlic, onion, lemon and so on.
Hot Aphus of the Glaphus Soup:
3-4 cloves garlic, grated--as much garlic as you can stand
1 cubic inch ginger root, grated
one entire onion, chopped
one leek, chopped
a sprinkle of dill, coriander
two tablespoons miso
two bundles of Japanese wheat and buckwheat noodles
5 cups water
juice from one lemon
salt to taste
Saute the garlic, onion, and ginger root in olive oil, then add water [gently] and leek. Bring to boil, stir in dill and coriander, miso and noodles. Simmer until noodles are soft. Turn off heat and stir in lemon juice, fishing out the lemon seeds that fall in. Salt to taste. Good for what ails you.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Me and Rosie
Two major triumphs for my blog, for a technosaur such as myself: Pearl helped me load photos from our trip to Neah Bay onto my computer, and place the photo of Arlene with Rosie the Sekiu Salmon as my photo. No more shadowy head profile! She also helped me complete the process with sitemeter which will now show accurately my adoring hundreds or thousands ; > of readers, rather than periodically sending me an email with "visits to site: 0," which was somewhat disheartening.
I'm considering actually posting photos, which I have mixed feelings about. I like my text to speak for itself, but photos do add a lot of richness and I know lots of people like to see colors and images on a blog. I remember my initial disappointment with adult books which were not illustrated, until I realized that the images I formed in my mind were pretty good, too.
Guess I'll think about that on the rest of my second day off.
Yay for Pearl!
I'm considering actually posting photos, which I have mixed feelings about. I like my text to speak for itself, but photos do add a lot of richness and I know lots of people like to see colors and images on a blog. I remember my initial disappointment with adult books which were not illustrated, until I realized that the images I formed in my mind were pretty good, too.
Guess I'll think about that on the rest of my second day off.
Yay for Pearl!
Leaves and Branches
We attended Feast yesterday evening at Jefferson Park in Tacoma, in the traditional south end of the park beneath the two trees. Usually at least once every summer, Feast, usually held in homes, is held in this park. The Bulletin advertised this as a potluck, so I tried out my pressure cooker to make beans and a dish called Coriander Carrots, from the cookbook by Lorna J. Sass, which I served together over brown rice. I was the only person who knew it was a potluck.
The weather, which has been warm all summer, turned cool and breezy last night, so that by the end of Feast we were quite chilled. I was happy to have a nutritious dish to serve, along with the hostess' nutritious and delicious zucchini bread.
We sat in a circle of chairs, reading from Baha'i Writings and prayers, people I have known for many years, and some I have just met, a circle of unity. Then I looked up and saw the branches of the trees intertwined overhead, so that it was impossible to distinguish which branches and leaves belonged to which trees, although the trunks were far apart on the ground.
It seemed to me that this was our unity, that we "eat with the same mouth"; the unity of the early believers in Iran who never knew whose cloak or shoes they donned before going out of the house to teach.
The weather, which has been warm all summer, turned cool and breezy last night, so that by the end of Feast we were quite chilled. I was happy to have a nutritious dish to serve, along with the hostess' nutritious and delicious zucchini bread.
We sat in a circle of chairs, reading from Baha'i Writings and prayers, people I have known for many years, and some I have just met, a circle of unity. Then I looked up and saw the branches of the trees intertwined overhead, so that it was impossible to distinguish which branches and leaves belonged to which trees, although the trunks were far apart on the ground.
It seemed to me that this was our unity, that we "eat with the same mouth"; the unity of the early believers in Iran who never knew whose cloak or shoes they donned before going out of the house to teach.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
I'm Here, Aren't I
One of the techniques in long term care for administrative staff to keep "control", consciously or not, is to keep staff off balance by making changes and threatening people's positions. "Homeland" just announced a "Staffing Model Adjustment." Currently there are a charge nurse and two medication nurses [plus a treatment nurse straddling both shifts] for both day and evening shift. The plan is to have two charge nurses work twelve hour shifts together during the day, and leave the evening shift after 8 PM [a busy time] bereft of their charge nurse.
It was also announced that current charge nurses, such as myself, are required to reapply for their positions. For nearly four years I have worked my tail off perfecting my skills, and getting the work done as efficiently as possible. It would seem I have proven myself in this position. Now I am required to reapply.
I asked the DNS if she was trying to get rid of me, and what reapplying would look like, and was instructed to write a "letter of interest." Here is my letter of interest:
"At 'Homeland' the charge nurses are privileged to work with the finest professionals in the field, and the bedrock of nursing care--our nursing assistants. We also serve together with some of the most caring, passionate, experienced and well-trained nurses in Pierce County. We are all selflessly devoted in our service to one common cause: the comfort, healing, recovery and wholeness of the residents and families entrusted to our care.
This is my Letter of Interest: that I am here.
'Let deeds, not words, be your adorning.'
~Baha'u'llah.
Sincerely,
Arlene Sobhani,
Registered Nurse"
It was also announced that current charge nurses, such as myself, are required to reapply for their positions. For nearly four years I have worked my tail off perfecting my skills, and getting the work done as efficiently as possible. It would seem I have proven myself in this position. Now I am required to reapply.
I asked the DNS if she was trying to get rid of me, and what reapplying would look like, and was instructed to write a "letter of interest." Here is my letter of interest:
"At 'Homeland' the charge nurses are privileged to work with the finest professionals in the field, and the bedrock of nursing care--our nursing assistants. We also serve together with some of the most caring, passionate, experienced and well-trained nurses in Pierce County. We are all selflessly devoted in our service to one common cause: the comfort, healing, recovery and wholeness of the residents and families entrusted to our care.
This is my Letter of Interest: that I am here.
'Let deeds, not words, be your adorning.'
~Baha'u'llah.
Sincerely,
Arlene Sobhani,
Registered Nurse"
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Immerse Yourselves
United Spiritual Gathering Councilfire Part 3:
Part of my attraction to the ocean, the reason I don't want to live in Montana or somewhere away from the ocean, is looking out to an apparently infinite horizon. It's very relaxing. I also, though not a great swimmer, like to wade in up to my waist or so and let the incoming waves hit me. I got to wade in the ocean on Saturday at Neah Bay.
The ocean is cold, and wading out takes some fortitude, but in about ten minutes my legs become numb, and I can stay out for awhile, letting the waves come in. [Later I need some hours to thaw out, sitting in my great solar collector, the car, or in the tent.] There's a sense of purification about the waves. Usually any emotional pain I've been having comes to the forefront; this year I wasn't feeling so much. I'm speculating that, rather than some deep well of emotional pain that I carry sloshing around, pain is something that used to be continually created by bad relationships.
Another person was out in the waves a few yards away. I saw her turn her back, and was thinking that I wouldn't turn my back to such a powerful force. I would be focusing my attention on it. This led to a meditation on devoting myself to Baha'u'llah in whatever occupation I find myself.
"Immerse yourselves in the ocean of My words, that you may unravel its secrets, and discover all the pearls of wisdom that lie hid in its depths. " ~ Baha'u'llah
Part of my attraction to the ocean, the reason I don't want to live in Montana or somewhere away from the ocean, is looking out to an apparently infinite horizon. It's very relaxing. I also, though not a great swimmer, like to wade in up to my waist or so and let the incoming waves hit me. I got to wade in the ocean on Saturday at Neah Bay.
The ocean is cold, and wading out takes some fortitude, but in about ten minutes my legs become numb, and I can stay out for awhile, letting the waves come in. [Later I need some hours to thaw out, sitting in my great solar collector, the car, or in the tent.] There's a sense of purification about the waves. Usually any emotional pain I've been having comes to the forefront; this year I wasn't feeling so much. I'm speculating that, rather than some deep well of emotional pain that I carry sloshing around, pain is something that used to be continually created by bad relationships.
Another person was out in the waves a few yards away. I saw her turn her back, and was thinking that I wouldn't turn my back to such a powerful force. I would be focusing my attention on it. This led to a meditation on devoting myself to Baha'u'llah in whatever occupation I find myself.
"Immerse yourselves in the ocean of My words, that you may unravel its secrets, and discover all the pearls of wisdom that lie hid in its depths. " ~ Baha'u'llah
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
A Scrap Of Paper
United Spiritual Gathering Councilfire Part Two:
Here is a story concerning the Baha'is currently imprisoned in Iran for their leadership role as a group; although they were obedient to the dictates of the restrictive laws against assembly by Baha'is, they have been in prison without due process for over a year. I will relate the story as I remember it:
A Scrap of Paper:
One of the women imprisoned in Evan Prison in Iran for serving the Baha'i Faith as a leader, asked her sister when she visited to write for her a certain prayer which she was having trouble remembering. The sister found a scrap of paper and wrote down the prayer from memory, but the guard would not allow it to be given to the inmate.
This is the banned prayer:
"I have wakened in Thy shelter, O My God, and it becometh him that seeketh that shelter to abide within the Sanctuary of Thy protection and the Stronghold of Thy defense. Illumine my inner being, O My Lord, with the splendors of the Dayspring of Thy Revelation, even as Thou didst illumine my outer being with the morning light of Thy favor."
~ Baha'u'llah.
What came to my mind was that Baha'u'llah has said that every spot "where mention of God hath been made, and His praise glorified," is blessed. So, with the prayers said there, even Evan Prison is blessed.
Here is a story concerning the Baha'is currently imprisoned in Iran for their leadership role as a group; although they were obedient to the dictates of the restrictive laws against assembly by Baha'is, they have been in prison without due process for over a year. I will relate the story as I remember it:
A Scrap of Paper:
One of the women imprisoned in Evan Prison in Iran for serving the Baha'i Faith as a leader, asked her sister when she visited to write for her a certain prayer which she was having trouble remembering. The sister found a scrap of paper and wrote down the prayer from memory, but the guard would not allow it to be given to the inmate.
This is the banned prayer:
"I have wakened in Thy shelter, O My God, and it becometh him that seeketh that shelter to abide within the Sanctuary of Thy protection and the Stronghold of Thy defense. Illumine my inner being, O My Lord, with the splendors of the Dayspring of Thy Revelation, even as Thou didst illumine my outer being with the morning light of Thy favor."
~ Baha'u'llah.
What came to my mind was that Baha'u'llah has said that every spot "where mention of God hath been made, and His praise glorified," is blessed. So, with the prayers said there, even Evan Prison is blessed.
The Wren and the Elk
United Spiritual Gathering Councilfire Part One:
We drove to Neah Bay Friday afternoon, spending the morning packing for camping and food prep, etc. I let Pearl drive from just before the Hood Canal Bridge to Port Angeles, then let her rest, then around Lake Crescent to just past Sekiu. She was doing fine, but being the responsible person in the passenger seat puts me in a wearying high state of vigilance.
After worrying about rain, as in recent years there has been a lot of bucketing rain, we never had a drop of rain the whole weekend. Sunday the sun even came out.
The United Spiritual Gathering Councilfire has been held on the Makah reservation on Hobuck Beach Campground for over forty years, I believe. Participants are guests on the reservation. We feel welcome and honored to be there. Here is a story as I remember it, told by Scott Tyler:
The Wren and the Elk:
The Small Forest Animals enjoyed singing, but they had a problem. Whenever they sang in the forest, along came the Elk, tall and imposing, calling out, "Who is singing in the forest? Stop singing or I will stomp on you!" Then all the Small Forest Animals would immediatly stop singing and scurry away into the woods. Finally, having had enough of this, all the Small Forest Animals met and consulted about what to do about the Elk.
They chose the very Smallest of the Forest Animals, the wren, to perform a special mission. They began their song, and sure enough, here came the Elk, stomping up. "Who is singing? No singing in the forest! Stop at once or I will . . . " and at that point the Wren flew up the nose of the Elk. The Elk began to sneeze. He sneezed so much that he fainted away and fell down, vanquished. The Wren emerged, showered, and all the Small Forest Animals gathered again for their song.
We drove to Neah Bay Friday afternoon, spending the morning packing for camping and food prep, etc. I let Pearl drive from just before the Hood Canal Bridge to Port Angeles, then let her rest, then around Lake Crescent to just past Sekiu. She was doing fine, but being the responsible person in the passenger seat puts me in a wearying high state of vigilance.
After worrying about rain, as in recent years there has been a lot of bucketing rain, we never had a drop of rain the whole weekend. Sunday the sun even came out.
The United Spiritual Gathering Councilfire has been held on the Makah reservation on Hobuck Beach Campground for over forty years, I believe. Participants are guests on the reservation. We feel welcome and honored to be there. Here is a story as I remember it, told by Scott Tyler:
The Wren and the Elk:
The Small Forest Animals enjoyed singing, but they had a problem. Whenever they sang in the forest, along came the Elk, tall and imposing, calling out, "Who is singing in the forest? Stop singing or I will stomp on you!" Then all the Small Forest Animals would immediatly stop singing and scurry away into the woods. Finally, having had enough of this, all the Small Forest Animals met and consulted about what to do about the Elk.
They chose the very Smallest of the Forest Animals, the wren, to perform a special mission. They began their song, and sure enough, here came the Elk, stomping up. "Who is singing? No singing in the forest! Stop at once or I will . . . " and at that point the Wren flew up the nose of the Elk. The Elk began to sneeze. He sneezed so much that he fainted away and fell down, vanquished. The Wren emerged, showered, and all the Small Forest Animals gathered again for their song.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Jammin'? Too Bizarre!
Jam N Tube Part Two:
A jam tasting is always an elegant affair, but the setting on Sunday was informal. In the spirit of Unity in Diversity there were jams brought in from everywhere. A true variety of jams, of course tasted on the premier of toasts--a good, basic whole wheat bread with just a hint of butter, not to obscure the delicate flavor of the jam. There was a modest gooseberry, a robust strawberry, quite a few middle-of-the road raspberries, a succinct currant jelly [brought in just in time] and rather a pretentious huckleberry, as well as a good spread of basic marmelades.
Ah, the art of jam tasting! A bracing Earl Grey tea to cleanse the palate. An appreciative sniff, a tentative lick, then to roll the whole bite of jam and toast around to savor the essence of all the delicate flavors. A devotee of jam can divine the year the preserves were put up, the county of origin, and a real expert might identify the actual patch where the berries were picked. Jam tasting can be truly an exquisite experience.
There was some music playing nearby, but I was too involved with the jam to really appreciate it.
Not everyone attending the Jam N Tube on Sunday may have noticed the Jam Tasting, but I had a wonderful time.
A jam tasting is always an elegant affair, but the setting on Sunday was informal. In the spirit of Unity in Diversity there were jams brought in from everywhere. A true variety of jams, of course tasted on the premier of toasts--a good, basic whole wheat bread with just a hint of butter, not to obscure the delicate flavor of the jam. There was a modest gooseberry, a robust strawberry, quite a few middle-of-the road raspberries, a succinct currant jelly [brought in just in time] and rather a pretentious huckleberry, as well as a good spread of basic marmelades.
Ah, the art of jam tasting! A bracing Earl Grey tea to cleanse the palate. An appreciative sniff, a tentative lick, then to roll the whole bite of jam and toast around to savor the essence of all the delicate flavors. A devotee of jam can divine the year the preserves were put up, the county of origin, and a real expert might identify the actual patch where the berries were picked. Jam tasting can be truly an exquisite experience.
There was some music playing nearby, but I was too involved with the jam to really appreciate it.
Not everyone attending the Jam N Tube on Sunday may have noticed the Jam Tasting, but I had a wonderful time.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
The Couch Tuber
Pearl, Enayat and I went to the Jam N Tube Saturday, a fundraiser for the Chilean Temple, for the Baha'is, and a secular fund-raiser as well. I dithered all day about whether to go tubing and finally decided to go for it, wearing my swimsuit, lightweight cotton pants that I expected to dry easily, and a life preserver provided by the Lo's, surprisingly one my size. Fred towed us around the bay, out by their waterfront house beyond Purdy.
We had a sort of tube/inflatable raft with a spot for three passengers. I was expecting speed, but my ordinarily sedentary body and brain were startled and completely unprepared for the up and down, sideways movement of bumping along the choppy water, and by crossing the boat's wake. My partners in the raft, fit thirty-somethings, were having a wonderful time. I was in mortal terror.
Reason, which told me I was quite safe with a very low center of gravity, and handles which my arms are still sore from gripping to save my life, but reason fled, and my brain stem was immediately concerned with imminent death. We had prearranged signals for "speed up", "slow down", and "stop!!" Unfortunately, making a signal involved releasing my death grip on the handles.
At last I made the throat-cutting gesture to stop, and transferred to the boat, feeling the great euphoria of having survived--euphoria which is the bread-and-butter of amusement parks. I am easily amused. Pearl, who was riding in the boat, transferred into the tube, and had a great time.
The outcome? A lot of fun, a new appreciation of the silliness of most anxiety, sore muscles everywhere, and a sunburnt left knee.
We had a sort of tube/inflatable raft with a spot for three passengers. I was expecting speed, but my ordinarily sedentary body and brain were startled and completely unprepared for the up and down, sideways movement of bumping along the choppy water, and by crossing the boat's wake. My partners in the raft, fit thirty-somethings, were having a wonderful time. I was in mortal terror.
Reason, which told me I was quite safe with a very low center of gravity, and handles which my arms are still sore from gripping to save my life, but reason fled, and my brain stem was immediately concerned with imminent death. We had prearranged signals for "speed up", "slow down", and "stop!!" Unfortunately, making a signal involved releasing my death grip on the handles.
At last I made the throat-cutting gesture to stop, and transferred to the boat, feeling the great euphoria of having survived--euphoria which is the bread-and-butter of amusement parks. I am easily amused. Pearl, who was riding in the boat, transferred into the tube, and had a great time.
The outcome? A lot of fun, a new appreciation of the silliness of most anxiety, sore muscles everywhere, and a sunburnt left knee.
Friday, August 7, 2009
My Daughter's Back ["What About My Back?"]
I'm a'going fishin' all of the time, baby's going fishing too.
Bet your life, your sweet wife is gonna catch more fish than you.
Sayin' many fish bite if you've got good bait,
Here's a little something I would like to relate,
I'm a goin' fishing, yes I'm going fishin' and my baby's going fishing, too.
It feels like I have my daughter back. It feels good to spend time together. In December when we visited Bellingham with my daughter and her husband in back, one big heap of sullen mope between them, I thought, "I'm never taking them on a trip again." I just didn't know how bad it was with them, how depressed Pearl was. Now we're planning the trip to Neah Bay, and I mentioned the Jam N Tube-- "sounds like fun!" I've been taking her for private drive lessons at 911 Driving School and she's actually driving on city streets and doing well. Smiling, revamping her novels she wrote growing up, doing her art.
On my last day off, Nick showed up and Pearl drove us to Titlow Beach Park, [in her youth, the "Park With The Three Slides"] where we walked the trails and watched the sunset, the rising near-full moon. "I see the moon and the moon sees me, down through the leaves of the old oak tree. Please let the light that shines on me, shine on the one I love." "Shine on, shine on harvest moon, for me and my gal. I ain't had no loving since January, February, June or July."
Bet your life, your sweet wife is gonna catch more fish than you.
Sayin' many fish bite if you've got good bait,
Here's a little something I would like to relate,
I'm a goin' fishing, yes I'm going fishin' and my baby's going fishing, too.
It feels like I have my daughter back. It feels good to spend time together. In December when we visited Bellingham with my daughter and her husband in back, one big heap of sullen mope between them, I thought, "I'm never taking them on a trip again." I just didn't know how bad it was with them, how depressed Pearl was. Now we're planning the trip to Neah Bay, and I mentioned the Jam N Tube-- "sounds like fun!" I've been taking her for private drive lessons at 911 Driving School and she's actually driving on city streets and doing well. Smiling, revamping her novels she wrote growing up, doing her art.
On my last day off, Nick showed up and Pearl drove us to Titlow Beach Park, [in her youth, the "Park With The Three Slides"] where we walked the trails and watched the sunset, the rising near-full moon. "I see the moon and the moon sees me, down through the leaves of the old oak tree. Please let the light that shines on me, shine on the one I love." "Shine on, shine on harvest moon, for me and my gal. I ain't had no loving since January, February, June or July."
Thursday, August 6, 2009
One Week To Neah Bay
I just switched my Weather Street link over to Neah Bay, WA, watching the weather for the United Spiritual Gathering Councilfire August 14, 15, 16. Looks a bit rainy in the coming week. Hope it clears up next weekend. I'm going, and I don't want to be drenched. Pearl's coming, too.
More later: must go mind my cream of yam soup.
More later: must go mind my cream of yam soup.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
The Garden Kitchen
For many weeks I've been pondering how to make a tapestry [pictorial quilt] on the subject of whole-foods, plant based eating. Visually, vegetables are beautiful, but just a series of vegetables & fruits would be boring. There needed to be a story.
Mentally this morning I was writing to my mom, and thinking how to talk about the diet thing, and came up with some whimsy which might work well for a quilt. It also has kind of a children's book sound.
In The Garden Kitchen
We Eat:
Avocados, not Armadillos
Beets, not Bears
Cherries, not Camels
Dandelions, not Duckbills
Escarole, not Escargot
Figs, not Flamingos
Gooseberries, not Giraffes
Huckleberries, not Hedgehogs
Ices, not Iguanas
Jam, not Jellyfish
Kale, not Koalas
Lettuce, not Llamas
Mushrooms, not Mice
Nectarines, not Newts
Onions, not Owls
Peaches, not Pandas
Quinoa, not Quail
Radishes, not Rhinos
Squash, not Snakes
Tomatoes, not Turtles
Watermelon, not Walruses
Yams, not Yaks
Zweiback, not Zebras
Violets, not Vultures
and I challenge anyone to come up with an edible starting with U.
Pearl likes the idea, and I set her to doing the artwork.
Mentally this morning I was writing to my mom, and thinking how to talk about the diet thing, and came up with some whimsy which might work well for a quilt. It also has kind of a children's book sound.
In The Garden Kitchen
We Eat:
Avocados, not Armadillos
Beets, not Bears
Cherries, not Camels
Dandelions, not Duckbills
Escarole, not Escargot
Figs, not Flamingos
Gooseberries, not Giraffes
Huckleberries, not Hedgehogs
Ices, not Iguanas
Jam, not Jellyfish
Kale, not Koalas
Lettuce, not Llamas
Mushrooms, not Mice
Nectarines, not Newts
Onions, not Owls
Peaches, not Pandas
Quinoa, not Quail
Radishes, not Rhinos
Squash, not Snakes
Tomatoes, not Turtles
Watermelon, not Walruses
Yams, not Yaks
Zweiback, not Zebras
Violets, not Vultures
and I challenge anyone to come up with an edible starting with U.
Pearl likes the idea, and I set her to doing the artwork.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
It's What You Do That Matters
In the last week or two of sweating, sweltering heat, multiple admissions at work [which is only air conditioned where people walk in, but not where they live], and other draining things, I've been mulling over this wonderful monologue from Baha'i Views, "How To Tell Someone That What They Said Sounded Racist."
It isn't the are you/aren't you a racist part that I was thinking about, but the clarity of the underlying principle: it isn't what you are, it's what you do, that one can be held accountable for.
This helps me a lot. I feel as if I'm on stage because I'm blogging about my choice to start eating plant foods only. Today I took my daughter to breakfast after her driving lesson, and being Saturday morning in the very popular Hanger Inn in Puyallup, the only table available was smack in front of the door, in the way of the servers, and basically on stage for diners entering and exiting. "Boy, those are big pancakes!" "Thanks, I ordered them myself."
On stage. I use the label "Vegan" a lot online when I search for recipes and support, but I've decided that is not what I am. True Vegans avoid products with glycerin, leather, and every kind of sneaky animal-sourced materials which find their way into our food and so forth, which makes them very picky. I love leather. I love the way it smells and feels: Vegans would say, so did the cow/deer/elk/horse/pig/sheep.
I'm not a "Vegan." I'm just a person who mainly eats just plants.
It isn't the are you/aren't you a racist part that I was thinking about, but the clarity of the underlying principle: it isn't what you are, it's what you do, that one can be held accountable for.
This helps me a lot. I feel as if I'm on stage because I'm blogging about my choice to start eating plant foods only. Today I took my daughter to breakfast after her driving lesson, and being Saturday morning in the very popular Hanger Inn in Puyallup, the only table available was smack in front of the door, in the way of the servers, and basically on stage for diners entering and exiting. "Boy, those are big pancakes!" "Thanks, I ordered them myself."
On stage. I use the label "Vegan" a lot online when I search for recipes and support, but I've decided that is not what I am. True Vegans avoid products with glycerin, leather, and every kind of sneaky animal-sourced materials which find their way into our food and so forth, which makes them very picky. I love leather. I love the way it smells and feels: Vegans would say, so did the cow/deer/elk/horse/pig/sheep.
I'm not a "Vegan." I'm just a person who mainly eats just plants.
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