Blast from the Past

Earlier this evening I got an email from my friend Betsy telling me that she had found an old high school essay of mine while she was cleaning out some boxes from her parents' house.  She had a copy of the essay because I had written it about her and given it to her as a gift.  I had, of course, forgotten all about it.  I asked her to send me a copy of it and she obliged.  

Below, reproduced in its entirety, is a "college entrance essay" assignment I wrote my junior year of high school.  It comes complete with embarrassing typos so many commas it looks like I held a pepper grinder over it; this is the Caesar salad of homework.  Please enjoy my 17-year-old self.  She was a delightful mess.  

Beans and Greens!

Here's a cheap, easy, fast, healthy weeknight dinner.  Yum.

Beans and Greens-
Nouns-
2 bunches of kale, stemmed and torn
1 half onion, chopped
4 carrots, chopped
1 can garbanzo beans
4 slices turkey bacon, chopped
1.5 cups chicken broth
1 tsp paprika
1 tsp cumin
3 cloves garlic, minced
olive oil
salt and pepper
1 cup plain Greek Yogurt

Verbs-
Saute the bacon for 2-3 minutes over medium high heat.  Add the onions and carrots and saute 3-5 more minutes, seasoning with salt and pepper.  Add the drained garbanzo beans, garlic and the paprika and cumin.  If the pan is dry, add a bit of olive oil and stir everything around for a minute or two.  Then add the chicken stock and bring a simmer.  Add the kale and stir until the kale is wilted and deep green.  Remove from the heat and serve in bowls, topped with a dollop of the Greek yogurt.  Yumm!  We also had some oat rolls with ours, which were a great side.

Running up the hill

I am running the Rogue River Trail in 7 weeks.

SEVEN.  yikes.

I took a 5-day break from running this week due to some hip problems.  I stretched, I iced, I went to my crazy chiropractor, but nothing really helped.  In fact, for the first three days my hip got worse even though I was just sitting there.  Very annoying.  Finally, it started to feel better and I capitulated and bought new shoes so I could go running under optimal circumstances for having happy legs.  I have been putting off the new shoe thing for a long time because they are so expensive, but I solemnly swear I will not delay getting new shoes again, because it was worth every penny.

I ran 6 miles on flat paved trails yesterday to test out my hip, and after that went great, I busted out my new trail shoes and ran 10 miles on muddy steep horse trails in Tryon Creek Park this morning. That run was ... hard.  It was very hard.  My hip felt fine, but I'm undertrained for hills and switchbacks, and I could feel my big muscles, the quads and glutes especially, going achy and hypoxic after only a mile.  After two miles, I was huffing and puffing expremely inelegantly and seriously doubting whether I could finish my ten.  And, consequently, seriously doubting whether my Rogue River run is even possible.  I was struggling and couldn't find my stride, flailing madly down hills and trudging awkwardly up them, when a tall, thin blonde in just a sports bra and booty shorts, her navel ring glistening in the sunshine and her ponytail bobbing jauntily, came flashing past me.  She blasted by as a blurry vision of tanned abs and pink sneakers, leaving me in the dust.

In that moment, I had a massive attack of the Itty-Bitty-Shitty-Me's.  I felt sooooo lame.  And I felt ashamed for feeling lame, because blah blah feminism, I don't need to compare myself to Jogger Barbie, I am strong and I'm running for me, and not so I can conform to some external body model or whatever.  Yes.  That is true.  And I run for the feeling of power and independence, the complete trust in my own strength and autonomy that it gives me.  But right then I just felt sweaty and muddy and tired and miserable in my dorky running outfit, gasping for breath, and ready to give up.

But I didn't.  And that is the secret.  Sometimes the reward is in persevering when it seems like there is no reward.  I persevered.  I walked up the hills when I couldn't run up them, but I didn't stop, and I didn't let myself believe the lies I was telling myself about weakness.  And then, almost magically, my GPS said I had run seven miles.  Every mile had felt impossible until I knew there were only three left, and then everything was easy.  Of course I could do three more miles.  What's three miles?  And I pulled my head up and looked around at the beautiful forest, noticing it as though for the first time.  Ahhhhh.  I ran my last three miles feeling like I could do anything, anything in the world.  Just try to stop me.  I dare you.

Fish Tacos with Fresh Mango Salsa

These turned out totally totally awesome.  So good.  I do not pretend that they are authentic to any particular culinary tradition... they just taste good.

Tilapia Tacos with Mango Salsa


Nouns-
4 tilapia fillets
1 mango, peeled and pitted and diced
1 medium tomato, diced
Half of one red onion, minced
1 red chili, seeded and minced
4 tablespoons minced cilantro
Juice of 2 limes
1 quarter of a cabbage, julienned
1 avocado, peeled, pitted and chopped
12 white corn tortillas
3 tablespoons cornstarch
3 tablespoons corn meal
safflower oil
salt
pepper


Verbs-
To make your salsa, dice your mango and combine with the tomato, onion, chili, cilantro, salt, pepper and the lime juice and muddle.  Let it sit for about 15 minutes while you julienne your cabbage.  Set that aside.  Add a few tablespoons of oil to a large frying pan over high heat.  Stir the corn starch and corn meal together on a plate and dredge the tilapia fillets in that mixture before placing in the hot frying pan.  Fry each side for 3-4 minutes.  Set the fish aside and wipe the pan out.  Add a little more oil and lightly fry the tortillas, for about one minute per side.  Assemble your fish tacos thusly: flake the fish with a fork and put as much as you like in your tortilla.  Pile on the cabbage, avocado and salsa.  Eat, perhaps with a bit more cilantro and a squish of a fresh lime wedge.  Yummm!

Meal Plan

Red Curry with Brown Rice
Super Food Salad
Beans and Greens
Kielbasa and Brussels Sprouts

Pie!

Over the last few days, I have had occasion to make several pies.  I made a pie for a gathering we had this last weekend, and I think it is new favorite summer pie recipe.

I used the Joy of Baking Berry Pie recipe you can find here, except I used a 9-inch tart shell instead of a pie tin because my pie tin is old and banged up and my tart shell is new and pretty.  It worked great!  I was afraid the pie would bubble over or be burned because it was thinner than a normal pie tin, but nope, perfect!  Sooo good.  The picture doesn't do it justice, because it was taken on my husband's Ipad in the middle of a party.

Then, yesterday I used the leftover pie dough and berries to make a mini berry tart for my friend Kali, who is awesomesauce and came to visit me at lunch today.

I also made a chocolate pie for my co-worker (boss? the chain-of-command at my office is a bit strange, but he's vaguely boss-like) as a consolation prize and thank-you for being such a good sport about the pie in the next paragraph.  I used the Joy of Baking Chocolate Pie Recipe here, but I had some problems getting the filling to set, and ended up cooking it for about 20 minutes, rather than 3-5.  Annoying.  So next time I'll probably try this Smitten Kitchen version instead.

Finally, I made an incredibly gross faux pie to throw in my co-worker's face.  You see, he "won" the pie-in-the-face fundraiser contest we had for the office food drive, and as a result, he got a pie in the face.  To minimize liability, I went with a flimsy foil disposable pie tin filled with instant banana pudding and whipped topping.  Again, I couldn't get my pudding to gel.  What is with the pudding in this house?  Also, instant banana pudding is gross and smells like Laffy Taffy.  My co-worker was a good sport about getting the thing all over his face, but did not elect to share his yummy chocolate pie with any of us spectators.  Can't say I blame him.

Why I do what I do

This is an essay about love.  It is an essay about how some Christians treat gays, but it is a lot more than that.  It is an essay about love and hate, and what they really mean.

You should read it.

You should read it even if you don't think of yourself as hateful, as a homophobe, a snob, a racist ... you should read it even if you are not a religious person or a person of faith.

You should read it, because despite its flaws and oversimplifications, it boldly states a truth that we don't hear often enough, the truth that we justify treating other people with disdain, with hate, or with contempt by pointing to their deficiencies, their differences or their "sins", but that really, our hate and disdain come from ego and a need to feel superior, because deficiencies, differences and sins have absolutely nothing to do with love.  We can love anyone, we just choose not to.  And we do that to make ourselves feel better.

It was a good reminder for me, because I make my living standing up for people who have done contemptible things, for people who were negligent, or stupid, or violent or harmful.  For people who suffer from addiction, from mental illness, and from poverty.  And sometimes, for some good people who got a raw deal out of an imperfect system.  It's hard work, and frustrating, and thankless.  But I am reminded that it is good work.  And I am very very glad, in this moment, that that is what I do for living.

The Stackhouse Fillibuster

 I am watching an episode of the West Wing from many years ago called the Stackhouse Filibuster, an episode narrated by the voices of all the main characters writing emails to their fathers, an episode in which a grandfather stands up for his grandchild and and refuses to be ignored, even in the face of overwhelming opposition, and makes change by being a stubborn old bastard who loves his grandchild more than just about anything.   And it is so moving that all the characters write their fathers about it.  It features this quote, one of my favorites in all of television:


"Don't ever, ever underestimate the will of a grandfather. We're madmen, we don't give a damn, we got here before you and they'll be here after. We'll make enemies, we'll break laws, we'll break bones, but you will not mess with the grandchildren."

And it made me miss my grandfather.  I miss my grandfather and the sense of legacy I felt when talking to him, the sense of being utterly and profoundly protected, like I had a wily old man ready to devote any and all of his considerable resources to knocking boulders out of my way or shouting down anyone who dared to harm me.  And it made me miss my father, who I should probably email to say hi and see how he's doing.  

Baking

No time for a real post, but here's some pretty photos of stuff I baked yesterday.

This is Macheesmo's Birdseed Bread Recipe, and it is awesome.

These I made using a modification of this recipe, and I'll try to remember to post my version soon.