That would be something else, a mentally alert salad. Make you think twice before sticking a fork into your greens. Funny it doesn't work that way with a hamburger . . . except for some folks who are more mentally alert to their food origins than the rest of us.
For the last, I'd say, two months, since watching Forks Over Knives, I've been following my cravings, mainly [for those with a morbid interest in those things] fried fish. I discovered Halibut is flavorful; generic fish is not. I can now safely predict that the more deeply I am moved by the arguments for a whole food plant based diet, the more I envy those whose lives have been transformed by adhering to its strict limits, the more severe my food cravings for other types of food become and the more abrupt their onset. It is completely predictable. I was just beginning to settle down after F. O. K. when I watched 40 minutes of Dr. Neal Barnard describing which substances in dairy products tend to keep one eating them . . .
The also predictable result of relentlessly pursuing these cravings, instead of occasional aberrations from a moderately healthy diet, has been a lack of mental acuity. Some foods make me dopey. Just not as alert. Slow and lazy brain cells. I start worrying about early onset Alzheimers.
Amazingly I started to realize, after this latest binge, that I was craving fruits and vegetables and whole grains and even legumes. So I made this salad, ate it with a beautiful red, ripe pear [don't ask me about the variety--I'm not that alert] and a slice of whole wheat toast. A wonderful meal and a rousing experience. I could feel my mind and body transforming with just one lunch.
Mentally Alert Salad
1/4 of a cabbage, thinly sliced and chopped [optionally you could grate it. That would be great.]
1/2 onion, diced
2 fat organic carrots, grated
one can pickled beets, sliced [the beets, not the can]
one can of beans [in this case, red beans]
Salad dressing*
That's it. Simple and delicious. I don't even know why I'm charging for this recipe. Oh, yeah, I'm not.
Walking to work there was definitely more of a spring in my step and a smile on my face.
* I have this idea for a salad dressing based on pickled beets, but I haven't worked it out yet.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Projects
Walked to the Puyallup Fair Friday morning, stood in line for awhile to get in on the free admission, admired the quilts. While I was there, I saw an elderly man leaning against a chair, thought he might lose his balance & said something.
"That's my wife's quilt up there," he said. I said, that's very nice; he said, "she died three years ago. I wanted to see what happened with the quilt. Every night I talk to her, tell her how my day went." I got teary-eyed. Said, maybe you can wrap up in the quilt.
Stood in line for a burger at a place that wasn't quite organized yet, taking far more orders than they could cook up. A lot of us were in line for a long time, then a counter opened up and someone who hadn't even been in line came up. Lady behind me complained, he rounded on her, she tried to apologize but he wouldn't listen. Then when he got his burger before her, more drama. From when I got in line to when I received my sandwich: 50 minutes.
Went to the rodeo for $5, have never gone before. I think they had a rodeo in Albion when I was very small, if that counts. It was a blast. I'd like to go again.
Bought a silk comforter [silk fibers on the inside, not the outside], decided it would be better to be a little mean to silkworms than kill ducks: besides, feathers have a tendency to work out of a feather bed and poke you. So I left the fair resolved to sew a cover for the comforter.
Fortunately I have a pair of Egyptian cotton king-size sheets I bought several months ago at a thrift shop, and decided to use those for the duvet. Decided to doll it up a little bit from plain white by appliqueing butterflies cut from colorful scraps, but I was dreading the applique process, wrestling around an entire king sized sheet on the machine, until I figured out I needed to cut squares/rectangles from the sheet, sew on the appliques, then reassemble.
In twenty four hours I have the applique work done. Except for the fact that, without details, the outlines of butterflies resemble hats. So now I'm adding detailing, and that's as far as I got today. Back to work tomorrow.
"That's my wife's quilt up there," he said. I said, that's very nice; he said, "she died three years ago. I wanted to see what happened with the quilt. Every night I talk to her, tell her how my day went." I got teary-eyed. Said, maybe you can wrap up in the quilt.
Stood in line for a burger at a place that wasn't quite organized yet, taking far more orders than they could cook up. A lot of us were in line for a long time, then a counter opened up and someone who hadn't even been in line came up. Lady behind me complained, he rounded on her, she tried to apologize but he wouldn't listen. Then when he got his burger before her, more drama. From when I got in line to when I received my sandwich: 50 minutes.
Went to the rodeo for $5, have never gone before. I think they had a rodeo in Albion when I was very small, if that counts. It was a blast. I'd like to go again.
Bought a silk comforter [silk fibers on the inside, not the outside], decided it would be better to be a little mean to silkworms than kill ducks: besides, feathers have a tendency to work out of a feather bed and poke you. So I left the fair resolved to sew a cover for the comforter.
Fortunately I have a pair of Egyptian cotton king-size sheets I bought several months ago at a thrift shop, and decided to use those for the duvet. Decided to doll it up a little bit from plain white by appliqueing butterflies cut from colorful scraps, but I was dreading the applique process, wrestling around an entire king sized sheet on the machine, until I figured out I needed to cut squares/rectangles from the sheet, sew on the appliques, then reassemble.
In twenty four hours I have the applique work done. Except for the fact that, without details, the outlines of butterflies resemble hats. So now I'm adding detailing, and that's as far as I got today. Back to work tomorrow.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Fire and Snow
So I visited Baha'i Views and took a virtual canoe trip through the Willapa Watershed, and my first impression was that most of these photos with beautiful scenery and wildlife would make wonderful inspirations for landscape quilts. My first feeling was intense envy of the time and energy and experience of folks ready to step out and paddle out into the wild in their spare time. I get this with my sister's weekend bicycle rides, also. But the envy is really just the result of my longing for nature, which is awakened by seeing and reading about these journeys. That's the fire.
The "snow", the relief, is the tremendous bounty of seeing the photographs, reading about these experiences. If I can't be there, at least I can see the pictures. Bittersweet.
These are the angels of fire and of snow.
~Baha'u'llah [approximate quotation from memory]
The "snow", the relief, is the tremendous bounty of seeing the photographs, reading about these experiences. If I can't be there, at least I can see the pictures. Bittersweet.
These are the angels of fire and of snow.
~Baha'u'llah [approximate quotation from memory]
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Buttercup Versus Rose
As a child one special experience with my mother was roaming the hills in the spring to pick buttercups, so I always saw them as a rare and lovely wildflower. A few years ago I decided to plant buttercups in my flower bed, only to discover a few months later what a persistent and pernicious pest it can be, sending out runners all over the yard. I don't know if I ever got rid of them. What I thought was simple and innocent turned out to be truly obnoxious.
Little sweet tidbits of gossip can be like a buttercup, rare and enticing when you pick them, but difficult to extricate from the fabric of communal life.
In the garden of thine heart, plant naught but the rose of love.
~ Baha'u'llah
Little sweet tidbits of gossip can be like a buttercup, rare and enticing when you pick them, but difficult to extricate from the fabric of communal life.
In the garden of thine heart, plant naught but the rose of love.
~ Baha'u'llah
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Time to Retire
People with dementia often go back in time and get "stuck" there, due to the deterioration of the temporal lobe. We have someone at "Mountain View" who apparently spent a good deal of his life running a boiler room. He often reports a crisis going on at the plant, and his frustration of needing to get there to put things in order. Sometimes he'll say, "a man got hurt today."
The other evening he was trying to leave the facility by every exit. "They won't let me leave so I can go take care of the plant," he said. "It makes me so mad, I just feel like quitting!" "You know, Stew," I said, "maybe it's time to retire."
The other evening he was trying to leave the facility by every exit. "They won't let me leave so I can go take care of the plant," he said. "It makes me so mad, I just feel like quitting!" "You know, Stew," I said, "maybe it's time to retire."
Friday, July 29, 2011
Donkey Burgers
I recently recognized that there is a very good chance I have Asperger's Syndrome, on the spectrum of Autistic disorders but less challenged. A good option, if you are going to be on the spectrum, for intelligent people. Which I guess I give a good imitation of intelligence. I used to go to student Counselors at PLU and they were all named Molly, and they all eventually put on a puzzled expression about why my life wasn't working and said, "Well, you're obviously bright . ." If I was dumb, my life might make more sense.
Facets of my mental operations that indicate a different wiring: social disconnect, literal thinking, vulnerability to bullying without knowing why [I thought it was red hair], ability to imitate accents [also animals, if that counts as an accent], inability to mathematically prove my mathematical solutions [it's just obvious], earning me a D+ in Plane and Solid Geometry; definitely non-kinisthetic, a little clumsy, always getting confused and tangled up in conversations [leading to endless miscommunications and misunderstandings], interrupting and blurting out my ideas the second they hit, job bouncing, gullibility, inability to think or move quickly [a real liability in entry-level work], slow-to-never learning to ride a bicycle, very slow to learn to swim, very slow learning to drive, extreme honesty, irritable and sensitive, sensitive to light and noise, early awakening.
Following a group conversation is one of my challenges, especially in a large family. For me, joining a group conversation is like jumping into the middle of a Virginia Reel dance without a partner and wondering why things did not work out so well.
It's not so easy to receive the piece of paper that says Official Diagnosis. I've been aping neurotypical behavior for fifty years.
Anyhow, I was elated to figure this out. It illuminates my life. I'm no longer stuck wondering what's going on. I can go, well, no wonder, and get on with it.
For more information, there's a wonderful book called, Asperger's From the Inside Out by Michael John Carley. Or the internet.
Epilogue: I had this incredible epiphany the other day when I was invited to join in a group of Baha'is visiting people in a neighborhood to build spiritual communities. Although everyone has apprehension meeting new people and starting conversations with them, I was always terrified beyond all reason. So I avoided it. After I realized I have AS, I realized this was why I had avoided teaching [not preaching] the Baha'i Faith. I had this mythical conversation in my head, thinking about the people who really suffer for their faith. "I don't need to go to prison or be tortured or executed for my faith. I'm just not wired that way . . . so, since I'm not wired that way, I don't actually need to teach . . ." I burst out laughing at the absurdity.
Facets of my mental operations that indicate a different wiring: social disconnect, literal thinking, vulnerability to bullying without knowing why [I thought it was red hair], ability to imitate accents [also animals, if that counts as an accent], inability to mathematically prove my mathematical solutions [it's just obvious], earning me a D+ in Plane and Solid Geometry; definitely non-kinisthetic, a little clumsy, always getting confused and tangled up in conversations [leading to endless miscommunications and misunderstandings], interrupting and blurting out my ideas the second they hit, job bouncing, gullibility, inability to think or move quickly [a real liability in entry-level work], slow-to-never learning to ride a bicycle, very slow to learn to swim, very slow learning to drive, extreme honesty, irritable and sensitive, sensitive to light and noise, early awakening.
Following a group conversation is one of my challenges, especially in a large family. For me, joining a group conversation is like jumping into the middle of a Virginia Reel dance without a partner and wondering why things did not work out so well.
It's not so easy to receive the piece of paper that says Official Diagnosis. I've been aping neurotypical behavior for fifty years.
Anyhow, I was elated to figure this out. It illuminates my life. I'm no longer stuck wondering what's going on. I can go, well, no wonder, and get on with it.
For more information, there's a wonderful book called, Asperger's From the Inside Out by Michael John Carley. Or the internet.
Epilogue: I had this incredible epiphany the other day when I was invited to join in a group of Baha'is visiting people in a neighborhood to build spiritual communities. Although everyone has apprehension meeting new people and starting conversations with them, I was always terrified beyond all reason. So I avoided it. After I realized I have AS, I realized this was why I had avoided teaching [not preaching] the Baha'i Faith. I had this mythical conversation in my head, thinking about the people who really suffer for their faith. "I don't need to go to prison or be tortured or executed for my faith. I'm just not wired that way . . . so, since I'm not wired that way, I don't actually need to teach . . ." I burst out laughing at the absurdity.
Resourceful Girl Changes Light Bulb
Where have I been? I've been busy, that's what. Now that I'm down to one reader . . .
A day off that I wasn't sure would be a day off because I promised that if one of the other nurses got called to jury duty I would come in. I decided that it was only fair, since so far I have called in sick, asked for funeral leave, requested Holy Days off, asked for time off for my nephew's wedding, and asked for an extra day off so I can "do" Ethnic Fest an extra day. Only fair. It took all morning to find out if I was needed or not, so anyway I finally decided I was off the hook, ate my grape nuts with applesauce and soy milk, and I need to buy more grape nuts by the way, and I decided to do a load of laundry, and just when I flipped on the light switch for the little foyer where the laundry sits behind louvered doors [always wanted to use the word louvered], the light bulb blew.
No problem. Right on the shelf over the dryer is a box of CFU's. And I'm looking at the shallow light fixture and thinking that there's no way a CFU is going to fit in there, imagining that the light bulb is in there vertically. So if I need to, I will just leave the fixture off. CFU's all the way.
So I get out my very short stool which I use as seating at my very small and short dining table which is really nothing of the sort, more of a sort of small coffee table, but if I used a regular non-dwarf dining table it would take up my entire very small dining room and all I would do is cover it in papers as my ancestors did before me. So I use a very small table. So I get out this little stool and it's just tall enough for me to reach the light fixture, and now my problems begin.
I start loosening up the screws at the side that hold in the glass fixture, I've done this a thousand times, no problem. One little screw, two little screws, darn. The third screw is stuck. Okay, I need more traction. Don't have a piece of leather, which would be ideal. A piece of that rubbery stuff with holes in it meant for opening jar lids. Doesn't work. Now what? At this point I actually consider calling the landlord. To change a light bulb? No way. I realize this screw, although everyone knows they can be turned with fingers, actually is a screw and has a screw slot in the end.
I probably have fifty screw drivers. Somewhere else. I don't know where they are. No junk drawer here. Go upstairs. Find a drawer that has unsorted junk from one of the junk drawers in the old house [which is probably unsorted from the junk drawers in the house before that.] Oh, good, a short screwdriver just the right length . . . and it's a Philips head. Okay, here's a little metal jackknife. It opens. Knife blade. No good. Try other side. No soap. Won't open. May never know if it's a screw driver blade.
Knife blade won't close. I try a multitude of methods, which if they work, position my fingers in front of the blade so I will be maimed if the blade closes. Doesn't work. Probably for the best. Again I consider calling the landlord. Since I haven't rented an apartment alone since my college dorm room, I'm not sure of the protocol. Surely some of his tenants are so feeble they can't change a light bulb?
Here's a cardboard nail file. Probably break. Here's a hair clip. Metal, thin, a good possibility. Then something makes me try a different drawer. Here's another jackknife. Has a knife blade. Has a screwdriver blade. Bonsai!
Screw turns, fixture gets rinsed out, CFU placed, and fixture actually fits over the CFU.
Resourceful girl wins! Learning? How to spell jackknife.
Epilogue: Recently I decided my Special Power is screaming. I haven't yet decided what it accomplishes.
A day off that I wasn't sure would be a day off because I promised that if one of the other nurses got called to jury duty I would come in. I decided that it was only fair, since so far I have called in sick, asked for funeral leave, requested Holy Days off, asked for time off for my nephew's wedding, and asked for an extra day off so I can "do" Ethnic Fest an extra day. Only fair. It took all morning to find out if I was needed or not, so anyway I finally decided I was off the hook, ate my grape nuts with applesauce and soy milk, and I need to buy more grape nuts by the way, and I decided to do a load of laundry, and just when I flipped on the light switch for the little foyer where the laundry sits behind louvered doors [always wanted to use the word louvered], the light bulb blew.
No problem. Right on the shelf over the dryer is a box of CFU's. And I'm looking at the shallow light fixture and thinking that there's no way a CFU is going to fit in there, imagining that the light bulb is in there vertically. So if I need to, I will just leave the fixture off. CFU's all the way.
So I get out my very short stool which I use as seating at my very small and short dining table which is really nothing of the sort, more of a sort of small coffee table, but if I used a regular non-dwarf dining table it would take up my entire very small dining room and all I would do is cover it in papers as my ancestors did before me. So I use a very small table. So I get out this little stool and it's just tall enough for me to reach the light fixture, and now my problems begin.
I start loosening up the screws at the side that hold in the glass fixture, I've done this a thousand times, no problem. One little screw, two little screws, darn. The third screw is stuck. Okay, I need more traction. Don't have a piece of leather, which would be ideal. A piece of that rubbery stuff with holes in it meant for opening jar lids. Doesn't work. Now what? At this point I actually consider calling the landlord. To change a light bulb? No way. I realize this screw, although everyone knows they can be turned with fingers, actually is a screw and has a screw slot in the end.
I probably have fifty screw drivers. Somewhere else. I don't know where they are. No junk drawer here. Go upstairs. Find a drawer that has unsorted junk from one of the junk drawers in the old house [which is probably unsorted from the junk drawers in the house before that.] Oh, good, a short screwdriver just the right length . . . and it's a Philips head. Okay, here's a little metal jackknife. It opens. Knife blade. No good. Try other side. No soap. Won't open. May never know if it's a screw driver blade.
Knife blade won't close. I try a multitude of methods, which if they work, position my fingers in front of the blade so I will be maimed if the blade closes. Doesn't work. Probably for the best. Again I consider calling the landlord. Since I haven't rented an apartment alone since my college dorm room, I'm not sure of the protocol. Surely some of his tenants are so feeble they can't change a light bulb?
Here's a cardboard nail file. Probably break. Here's a hair clip. Metal, thin, a good possibility. Then something makes me try a different drawer. Here's another jackknife. Has a knife blade. Has a screwdriver blade. Bonsai!
Screw turns, fixture gets rinsed out, CFU placed, and fixture actually fits over the CFU.
Resourceful girl wins! Learning? How to spell jackknife.
Epilogue: Recently I decided my Special Power is screaming. I haven't yet decided what it accomplishes.
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