Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Holiday Heyday
Jon says Memorial Day is his new favorite holiday. The mark of summer, beer, BBQs, sunshine, day trips, nekked babies running around. Honoring real heroes, men and women who face death by choice, and this blessed, blessed country. I love it. I really do. We're lucky to live, to have grown up, to raise NJ almost in the heart of this place, this vast nation that feels so small at times. Especially when you go into the city on a day that's filled with such a spirit of gratitude, remembrance and celebration of everyone who makes it so.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
God and Seitan
I've been having lots of crazy dreams lately. Some might call them visions. Some might even call them hallucinations. I don't know what the hell they are, but, I keep seeing animals, and they aren't happy that I've been eating them. I think it's God talking to me, and he's telling me that I can't be one with the universe and all that crap (not crap really) if I'm eating things I'm not supposed to be putting in my body. It's not necessary for us to eat animals, to kill animals, to live and be healthy. In fact, it's unhealthy.
The pastor at our church spoke about attentiveness last week. Not awareness, but being attentive in everything we do, everyday. Hearing that voice, always. Hearing it, and listening to it. My meat-eating heart is breaking, but everything else is unbreaking. So, I have to go with my God-gut. I'm going to be eating tempeh- or seitan-bacon from here on out (the name irony – clearly disturbing).
Here's a recipe for a fakin' bacon BLT from my new cookbook:
1 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
8 slices tempeh bacon
4 slices whole grain bread
2 tbsp. vegenaise
2 romaine lettuce leaves
1 large ripe tomato, thinly sliced
1 ripe Hass avocado, halved, pitted and thinly sliced
salt and freshly ground black pepper
Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the tempeh bacon and cook, turning once, until browned on both sides, about 5 minutes total. Remove from the skillet and drain on paper towels.
Toast the bread (I like Ezekiel sprouted bread) and spread with the mayo. Place 2 slices of prepared toast on cutting board and layer each one with lettuce, tomato, avocado and bacon. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Top each with remaining toast. Use a bread knife to cut these babies up, and enjoy!
The pastor at our church spoke about attentiveness last week. Not awareness, but being attentive in everything we do, everyday. Hearing that voice, always. Hearing it, and listening to it. My meat-eating heart is breaking, but everything else is unbreaking. So, I have to go with my God-gut. I'm going to be eating tempeh- or seitan-bacon from here on out (the name irony – clearly disturbing).
Here's a recipe for a fakin' bacon BLT from my new cookbook:
1 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
8 slices tempeh bacon
4 slices whole grain bread
2 tbsp. vegenaise
2 romaine lettuce leaves
1 large ripe tomato, thinly sliced
1 ripe Hass avocado, halved, pitted and thinly sliced
salt and freshly ground black pepper
Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the tempeh bacon and cook, turning once, until browned on both sides, about 5 minutes total. Remove from the skillet and drain on paper towels.
Toast the bread (I like Ezekiel sprouted bread) and spread with the mayo. Place 2 slices of prepared toast on cutting board and layer each one with lettuce, tomato, avocado and bacon. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Top each with remaining toast. Use a bread knife to cut these babies up, and enjoy!
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Three Years Ago Today
Monday, May 16, 2011
X Marks the Spot
I plucked a hair from an unmentionable place this morning, which means that things really are getting back to some kind of normal. I think I have pms, and cramps. Well, Jon thinks I have pms. I even washed my hair, and craved a cigarette for the first time in like 2 years maybe. Now that is awesome. Today was the first day of radiation. Here is my new tattoo, one of four. Not the whole thing, silly. Just the very center dot. Bulls-eye. Not what I had in mind when I told Jon I was thinking of a getting a new one. Four little dots on my body forever from here on out. Four reminders not to forget how fragile, precious, lovely, amazing this little life of mine is, and what I had to do to fight for it. Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary. Can't wait to celebrate, our marriage, and so much more.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Like Mother, Like Daughter
NJ and I are very much alike, already. Aloof, stubborn, leery, inquisitive, picky (with a very discerning palate mind you), she loves language and books, to be touched – when she's in the mood. She even has unnatural leanings, already, toward beer and wine. There are only a few words she can say with near precision, and beer is one of them. Maybe we've been drinking a bit much :( She's got a ferocious sweet tooth. Cookies, popsicles and sweet tea in particular, we recently discovered, thanks to granddaddy. She dislikes people creepin' too close into her personal space and prefers to be naked at all costs. And, maybe we even look kinda the same. Just a little.
 |
| NJ (top) and me (bottom), around the same age. |
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Life, Death and Seasons
What is it about spring that makes us want to get rid of clutter? It's in the stars, I guess. The way God intended. The clearing out, cleaning out, making way for ducklings, young, bright and new.
The stages of my cancer recovery have coincided perfectly with the seasons. Diagnosed in the fall just after the leaves changed and started falling from the trees. Then chemo winter, barren and stark, like my whole body, parched and dry and cracked. (The best fix – Weleda Skin Food. Stuff's fabulous.) Feeling as naked as the stiff ground. And thank God for spring, and surgery. Getting rid of, clearing out, cleaning out to make way for the new.
On the day after Easter, I spent my first whole day with NJ, and barely any drugs. It was 80 degrees outside. I was tired, and NJ and I napped together for the first time since March 30. We strolled to the coffee shop on Main Street. It felt nice to be among the bustling, busy day and people with things to do and places to go. Business, things being done. I had a latté with coconut milk and raw Stevia (love that they have that there); NJ had a bit of cookie. I hadn't been to the coffee shop in a while. Jon blames the place itself for giving me cancer because that's where I went everyday for sweet treats and cinnamon rolls just before it all went down. And now I'm back, the addict going back to her dealer, her mistress – my love affair with sugar. But, it's reassuring that I'm learning more and more how to genuinely enjoy my old haunts with a new food attitude, and a better picker. That's the hard part. The new choices, and the starting over.
I've started over before, lots, but I thought getting married, meeting my husband meant not having to start over anymore. I was so wrong. Now we begin again. Life after cancer. And so now I feel like I should say something about "surviving."
I don't feel like a breast cancer survivor, just a survivor in general, like, isn't everyone surviving all the time, living through each day, beating some kind of odds? Being one of the marriages that lasts, a writer who gets published, a mom who really does get to have it all, being kind, having real, true faith. We are all survivors when we get through the treacherous, heady, life-inducing, laughter-invoking, lush, pink day. If you live in or around DC, you're a survivor when you get to and from work, and if you get home with a smile on your face, you are truly victorious.
It is not easy always, but it can be, mostly. Easy in the way it is to navigate a ridiculous argument with your mostly-lovely husband, easy in the way it is to shift a trusty old five-speed you love to drive, easy in the way it is to love your children and find them more beautiful every day, even as they get smarter, craftier and generally crazier (and more terrifying in their capacity to become if you're not very, very careful).
I have never been more thankful for God and his seasons, Easter, rebirth, life renewed, resurrection.
On a lighter note, coming back to life makes me think of Michael Jackson. I just watched This Is It, filmed before his death on his "comeback." He still had it, moves, man. He was so awesome. Dang. Death is just as much a part of seasons as the living, and that part is a stinker. 
The stages of my cancer recovery have coincided perfectly with the seasons. Diagnosed in the fall just after the leaves changed and started falling from the trees. Then chemo winter, barren and stark, like my whole body, parched and dry and cracked. (The best fix – Weleda Skin Food. Stuff's fabulous.) Feeling as naked as the stiff ground. And thank God for spring, and surgery. Getting rid of, clearing out, cleaning out to make way for the new.
On the day after Easter, I spent my first whole day with NJ, and barely any drugs. It was 80 degrees outside. I was tired, and NJ and I napped together for the first time since March 30. We strolled to the coffee shop on Main Street. It felt nice to be among the bustling, busy day and people with things to do and places to go. Business, things being done. I had a latté with coconut milk and raw Stevia (love that they have that there); NJ had a bit of cookie. I hadn't been to the coffee shop in a while. Jon blames the place itself for giving me cancer because that's where I went everyday for sweet treats and cinnamon rolls just before it all went down. And now I'm back, the addict going back to her dealer, her mistress – my love affair with sugar. But, it's reassuring that I'm learning more and more how to genuinely enjoy my old haunts with a new food attitude, and a better picker. That's the hard part. The new choices, and the starting over.
I've started over before, lots, but I thought getting married, meeting my husband meant not having to start over anymore. I was so wrong. Now we begin again. Life after cancer. And so now I feel like I should say something about "surviving."
I don't feel like a breast cancer survivor, just a survivor in general, like, isn't everyone surviving all the time, living through each day, beating some kind of odds? Being one of the marriages that lasts, a writer who gets published, a mom who really does get to have it all, being kind, having real, true faith. We are all survivors when we get through the treacherous, heady, life-inducing, laughter-invoking, lush, pink day. If you live in or around DC, you're a survivor when you get to and from work, and if you get home with a smile on your face, you are truly victorious.
It is not easy always, but it can be, mostly. Easy in the way it is to navigate a ridiculous argument with your mostly-lovely husband, easy in the way it is to shift a trusty old five-speed you love to drive, easy in the way it is to love your children and find them more beautiful every day, even as they get smarter, craftier and generally crazier (and more terrifying in their capacity to become if you're not very, very careful).
I have never been more thankful for God and his seasons, Easter, rebirth, life renewed, resurrection.
 |
| NJ enjoying her first Easter Peeps. |
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Fun With Pharmaceuticals
I'm finally emerging from my drug-induced cave. No more stupor-like behavior. Except for today when I forgot to wear panties under my dress to get a pedicure. Under normal circumstances, I would have dutifully gone back home and put on undies. I'm not a commando kinda gal, and, well, frankly, I just find it kind of icky. There was just this one time, but I was trying to get my boyfriend back and it was strictly out of necessity and an exception to the rule. But today, I just didn't care to drive back home. It's a little hard for me to steer (look, I'm being extra cautious and all), and who has the energy to drive two miles all the way back to the house? Clearly, though, the joke was on me, seeing as how my pedicurist was a dude, the only dude in the place. And straight, I'm fairly positive. It's hard to relax during a spa pedi while struggling with all your might to ensure your thighs are glued together. He must of thought I was afflicted with something, in my legs, or just a stress case who doesn't know how to relax, ever. When he was rubbing my feet, he asked me how I was feeling. It all seemed kind of weird and perverted and I just wanted it to be over with already.
Here are just a few things to keep in mind if you ever need to be highly medicated for any long stretch:
1. Take pills before pain sets it, or it's too late, and your screwed.
2. Eat a lot, anything you want, because it helps you get out of bed when you picture how amazing it looks and how delicious it will taste.
3. Drink tons of water, but that doesn't mean beer or wine, especially if you're taking Dilaudid. This will help you poop, and take stool softeners too, even though these don't really seem to do much. Water is best, and Yogi tea called Get Regular.
4. Try to shower sometime, but not until it's been a few hours after your last drug. You might slip or pass out or fall asleep. If you don't want to shower, don't feel bad about it. Like I said, it's a little dangerous anyway.
5. Do Reiki, lots of it. (There is so much more to say about Reiki, I'll write about this alone in another post. It's amazing, life-changing, a simple miracle.) Even if you're in so much pain, Reiki means less pain, and it helps to calm your nerves and tension, which might alleviate pain more than anything else under the sun.
6. You might wanna smoke a little herb if possible, but not with Dilaudid. And, really, just a tiny bit, because if you cough, that would really hurt. If you don't know where to get any, ask the most normal looking but cool person you know (one who dons a bow-tie or listens to the Goo Goo Dolls would be a bad choice, for example), or a lesbian or a person who drives a Subaru (sometimes this is a lesbian, too). They usually have a stash. I hear this stuff really helps, but I wouldn't know, personally. Plus, I guess it's illegal.
7. Pop another pill before it hurts too bad, or it will be too late.
8. Wear perfume so you're not too stinky, and it will cheer you up.
9. Light candles, but don't burn down your house or even just your bedroom, and surround yourself with soft, pretty things. These will also lift your spirits.
10. Pray several times a day and night, even about stuff you might not normally pray about, like "God, please help Gretchen see that Slade is shady and not the right guy for her." This is a good time to get closer to God, and that's no joke.
11. Indulge when you're up to it. Shop, but only if you're not too out of your mind and don't overdo it, buy some new lip gloss or get a mani/pedi, but don't drive on drugs or forget to wear your panties.
Here are just a few things to keep in mind if you ever need to be highly medicated for any long stretch:
1. Take pills before pain sets it, or it's too late, and your screwed.
2. Eat a lot, anything you want, because it helps you get out of bed when you picture how amazing it looks and how delicious it will taste.
3. Drink tons of water, but that doesn't mean beer or wine, especially if you're taking Dilaudid. This will help you poop, and take stool softeners too, even though these don't really seem to do much. Water is best, and Yogi tea called Get Regular.
4. Try to shower sometime, but not until it's been a few hours after your last drug. You might slip or pass out or fall asleep. If you don't want to shower, don't feel bad about it. Like I said, it's a little dangerous anyway.
5. Do Reiki, lots of it. (There is so much more to say about Reiki, I'll write about this alone in another post. It's amazing, life-changing, a simple miracle.) Even if you're in so much pain, Reiki means less pain, and it helps to calm your nerves and tension, which might alleviate pain more than anything else under the sun.
6. You might wanna smoke a little herb if possible, but not with Dilaudid. And, really, just a tiny bit, because if you cough, that would really hurt. If you don't know where to get any, ask the most normal looking but cool person you know (one who dons a bow-tie or listens to the Goo Goo Dolls would be a bad choice, for example), or a lesbian or a person who drives a Subaru (sometimes this is a lesbian, too). They usually have a stash. I hear this stuff really helps, but I wouldn't know, personally. Plus, I guess it's illegal.
7. Pop another pill before it hurts too bad, or it will be too late.
8. Wear perfume so you're not too stinky, and it will cheer you up.
9. Light candles, but don't burn down your house or even just your bedroom, and surround yourself with soft, pretty things. These will also lift your spirits.
10. Pray several times a day and night, even about stuff you might not normally pray about, like "God, please help Gretchen see that Slade is shady and not the right guy for her." This is a good time to get closer to God, and that's no joke.
11. Indulge when you're up to it. Shop, but only if you're not too out of your mind and don't overdo it, buy some new lip gloss or get a mani/pedi, but don't drive on drugs or forget to wear your panties.
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