Comfort Food and Sour Pickles

My knee recovery continues. Sadly, my stomach problems continue as well. I stocked up on food before the surgery, but sadly much of the food I stocked up on isn't suitable for my temperamental acid stomach. For example, I adore Trader Joe's Palaak Paneer, thinking of it almost as a pudding, soft nursery food that doesn't need chewing. But while Indian food folks would consider it bland, I normally cool it down with yogurt or creme fraiche. But I'm not considering trying it for a while. I do have plenty of actual truly bland food, and basics to make more (scrambled eggs coming into their own), so I'm fine for supplies. But it made me think about what gives comfort.

My job is to recover, and in between home exercise bouts and off to PT, I'm consuming entertainment at an unprecedented rate. But it's all comfort food. I'm not looking to be scared or disturbed. I want happy endings. I normally feel guilty about this, and stack up my book and movie queues with some more challenging material, my sour pickles that add interest to a bland life. But right now, nope.

After going literally months without watching TV, I reviewed my watch lists I have set up. Imagine my delight to find a British detective series I love, Shetland, has not one but two seasons out I haven't seen. I have also watched older movies (The Big Year, about bird watching!) and will be looking at the list for more. John Scalzi is doing a blog series on "comfort watches" and I'm adding to my list from his suggestions. I'm not big on re-watches (too many new things out there) but some movies truly stand up over years and repeated viewings. I'm thinking I'd love to introduce my girl to A Fish Called Wanda, one of the greats.  

I constantly keep a queue of ebooks and audiobooks on request at the library, and many of my sour pickles come from there - books that I hear about from reviews. But I'm ruthless at abandoning them if I'm not swept away (in a good way) before very far into the book. I don't know if I'll go back and try them again when I feel more resilient, or if they had their shot and I'm done. I've been listening to books (as opposed to reading) more than usual, and again, if it doesn't engage me, it's terminated quickly. Whether reading or listening, my usual mix of mysteries and thrillers is holding a much larger percentage of feel good books. I'm not sure of the category, there are apparently romances and women's fiction and book club books, I don't know how they sort out. Some of the ones called romances are so bad, predictable and pablum, that I can't handle them either. Right now, I am enjoying Elin Hilderbrand books: all with a connection to Nantucket, with characters who make bad choices but are not bad people, and who get through bad things happening. And not always paired off, either. But they are all OK by the end.

I find science fiction and fantasy to be really a crap shoot. I found a series with good values and plenty of snark, called "Murderbot", and saved up the latest for the day I came home from the hospital, and it did not disappoint.  But the author, Martha Wells, came out with a new fantasy series, and I slogged through the first third of the first book, to find the world-building tedious and overdone. Too many characters and races and types of magic being introduced, and getting in the way of bonding with the characters. Sigh.

I do read (mostly listen, actually) to non-fiction. This is the white rice of my entertainment stream - mostly history. My Audible membership gives me access to a pretty extensive catalog of older, less popular, audio books without having to buy them separately. So I've listened to a biography of Chaucer, another about the place of women in Tudor society, and I have more like that coming up. I like this very sedate but just enough intellectually engaging books as background to other things. Generally, I'll cue them up at bedtime. Guess what? If I fall asleep before the automatic cut-off, I may not rewind to catch what I missed. Who cares? I'm learning, but there won't be a test at the end so it's ok if I miss something. 

My latest jam is actually a podcast, though I'd put it in this history category. It's done by the public TV station in Boston, and it's an 8-part series about the Big Dig. Huh? I hear your minds whirring - what? Really? But yes, really. I am a YIMBY, sick of years of our not being able to build things, to carry out ambitious, big projects. The Green New Deal inspired me. I also spent some of my career at the US Department of Transportation, and I witnessed many infrastructure projects start and stop and be delayed and sometimes be killed, while others that ought to have been killed went steam rolling ahead. One of my work hobbies was reading Inspector General reports on topics related to my work (dealing with reports tied to my work was anything but fun, but we know misery loves company). The Big Dig was a multi-year field day for the IG. So this series starts way back in the 1960s and covers the personalities involved in Massachusetts and Boston politics, and the genesis of the project. I can picture some of the meetings and events described - I've been in the Secretary of Transportation's office while the fate of things like this were decided. I'm about half way through, and funding for the project was just approved in Congress, over-riding Reagan's veto. I know the ultimate outcome - my boy living in the Boston area benefits from the completed project - but I'm curious how they got there, and how common myths about events along the way have evolved.

New Knee!

 I'm very optimistic at the moment. Could drugs have something to do with that? Maybe? But drugs are part of the protocol, I'm supposed to be taking them!

Prep for the operation started well before Tuesday. I had a bunch of pre-op appointments to get cleared, and then there were elaborate instructions about cleaning myself the night before and morning of the operation, showers and special microbiome killing sponges to wipe everywhere. Surgery was scheduled for 8 am, but I had to be there two hours early. My BIL picked me up on the dot of 5 am, and followed me through the registration process. There became a standard call-and-response at every single stop - at least a dozen times that morning:  "What is your name?" "When were you born?" "Are you allergic to anything?". I had a qr code on my wristband that was scanned at every step.

In preop, (more wiping with special sponges), many people came by to introduce themselves. My surgeon came, (he signed my leg), a resident, a med student, and three or four members of the anesthesia team. ("What is your name?, etc., again!)

BIL stayed with me until they put the IV in, before starting the sedation. I gave up my phone, and they gave me a spinal block. By the time they wheeled me into the operating room, I was dead from the waist down. I couldn't feel a thing. The operating room was startling to me, not at all like Grey's Anatomy. Stark white, brilliant florescent lighting, almost shabby ceiling retrofitted with electrical mains and heating vents (my main view) and the room was really large - maybe they would have two patients in there at once? (BTW, they are opening a brand new surgical center next week, this was the swan song for the old side.) There seemed to be a lot of people in there! Shortly after arrival, they stuck my IV with sedation, and I was out.

I woke up still in the OR, still dead from the waist down. Whoever talked to me then said things went really well, and confirmed it was the partial (not a full) knee replacement, yay! I got wheeled down to recovery, where I stayed for a while, long enough to have two nurses because of a shift change. The goal for recovery, said the nurse, was to be able to bend both knees, raise both legs, and wiggle all my toes. Then they could move me on into a room, since I was going to be admitted. She raised my leg to demonstrate, and it was very disorienting to see my leg and feel nothing from its visible movements.

At first, recovery was AWFUL! I had the most awful shakes, shivering all over. Actually, the spinal block was still in effect so I have no idea if I was shivering below the waist. But above, my goodness! It came in waves, with a build-up, peak, and rapid fall-off. I tried to retreat to my mindfulness techniques, focused on my breathing, and that worked great in between the episodes, but when my body was uncontrollably shaking that was all I could think about. But then, sensation began to come back to my legs. First tingles, then the nurse said I was wiggling my toes. It was the weirdest thing - trying consciously to send a message to my toes to wiggle, and feeling no feedback that I was successful. But slowly, slowly, the feelings came back as the shivers abated. I got curious, and explored where I had feelings and what movements I could execute with my legs. It helped. All told, from shivers to feeling back in my legs, was about an hour. They had added a nerve block for the knee to take effect as the spinal block wore off, and so there was a magic moment when I felt great - zero pain! No shivers! And then they brought lunch, and I was hungry and scarfed down every bite. Then I realized I could have my stuff back and I got my kindle and phone and ipad, no boredom ever.

While still in recovery the PT folks came and got me up. It was good timing, I needed to pee, and really didn't want to use a bed pan. So I walked with a walker to the bathroom, and then to a stairwell, where I climbed two stairs - a hurdle I'd have to get into the house. When I got back to my bed, I was exhausted and in pain.

Finally I went up to the room. The nurses were really good at writing names down on the little white board in my room, I really appreciate that. Sadly, it was a very small double room and I had a fractious, noisy room-mate. We weren't allowed to close the door, so noise and light were constant. By the time dinner arrived, I had lost my appetite and "discomfort" had grown to pain. Over the course of the night, I had enormous heartburn pain, nausea, and stomach cramps. I had brought my noise-cancelling over-the-ear headphones, and a silk eyeshade, and that's the only reason I got any sleep at all. I listen to books, and all night I would tee up a chapter, close my eyes, and hope for sleep by the time the chapter was done. But I would open my eyes to realize my roommate was making a phone call (to Australia?) or complaining about something, or simply moaning. Of course, they came in to check vitals, give me drugs, and generally keep me from getting any rest. So I slept maybe twenty minutes at a time?

The following morning, I was awake at 5 and so was my roommate. But after the escorted trip to the bathroom and a new set of drugs, I actually got some deep sleep! An hour or two at least. All day, my knee hurt, but less than my stomach. They had added an anti-nausea med and also tums, and maybe that helped. I had PT and OT folks visiting, and they told me what to focus on for the next week, until I start PT. Two of my surgeon's residents stopped by, and they each emphasized how well the operation went. I mean, their eyes were glowing! I hope that bodes well for recovery. The hospital sent me home with twenty pages of discharge information and four pill bottles (to be supplemented with two OTC drugs at home). Helpfully, the medication instructions included the timing for the next dose of each. 

BIL, who had checked in on me many times, took me home. It was so nice to be swarmed by the doggos! He heated up some soup for me, but I couldn't manage more than a few swallows. I hurt all over. But I verified I could walk with the walker throughout the first floor, get into and out of bed, and go to the bathroom. BIL courageously stood by in case I needed him, but I didn't. Shortly, I took to my bed. In a few hours, my friend came over for the night, and it was comforting to have someone there, even if I didn't need them to do anything specific. Restless and uncomfortable all night, with intermittent books, but I took joy in the fact I could actually roll over to one side, off my back. (Other side not available yet.)

Another friend, who lives a ways away, came down later on Thursday. She made supper, and we watched a movie (NYAD! See it!). I was in bed by 7:30 pm (despite a couple of naps during the day). Again, a restless night, but at least five hours sleep (with ten hours in bed) according my tracking device.

Managing the medication is the hardest thing. I can take six different drugs, have to take at least three, and they all have different timings and limits. So of course I made a chart and I write it down. I am slightly addled from the pain meds, and I find I might not remember having taken a pill minutes after I did. So I am assiduous at checking them off. I am cautious on the strongest pain med, because it makes me woozy. I'm writing under its influence now, so please let me know if there is something here that's inappropriate. But by backing off some on the optional meds, I have got my stomach back under control, and my appetite is back. The fact is, the pain meds work, and if I don't take them there is a risk I'll do much less movement, which is bad in itself. So I'm taking less than the max, but not swearing them off completely. 

Today feels better than yesterday. I took a shower! (Hand wand and sitting on a stool.) No naps today, planning on a good night's sleep. Hopefully, tomorrow will feel better still.

Watching: The Holdovers

I don't watch a lot of TV or movies on TV. I turn the thing on maybe two or three times during a month, some months not at all. (Reading and listening to books and podcasts are my main entertainment.) And I stopped going to movies in person during the shutdown, of course. But I've actually seen FOUR movies in theaters so far this year! In order, Oppenheimer, Barbie, Stop Making Sense, and, last night, The Holdovers. Hooray for the movies!

The Holdovers was SO GOOD! I went in with few expectations and no reviews under my belt. I did see a trailer at one of my other movies, and I was expecting maybe a Breakfast Club type movie, with a cool mixed bag of misfits that would bond in the face of adversity. I guess it had that, but it was so much more!

Do go see it! I went to bed thinking about it, and I was still under its spell when I woke up. 

Minor spoilers below, perhaps, but not major.

The period setting is totally spot on. Imagine my surprise to realize that the main kid is exactly my age - a high school junior in 1970. I guessed the year early on by the hair on the high school boys. There are many lovely details, and I was taken with the music. Only a little was composed just for the movie, most were low-key sounds appropriate to the time, holiday, folk, rock, blues, jazz. Recognizing snippets kept me smiling through the whole thing. New England and Boston were also spot on, including a glimpse of a picture of the Kennedys on a kitchen wall. Clothes, interiors, language, all seemed perfect. Vietnam looms, though also true to form, it (mostly) doesn't loom too large for these largely privileged and sheltered people. 

The movie only slowly moves to a crescendo, getting better throughout. As the focus narrows to just three very diverse people, their characters, troubles and motivations sucked me in. None of these peoples have life circumstances remotely like my own, but I cared deeply for them. I watched how they began to care for each other, and I was rooting for them to be better than they were. I was wearing a mask in the theater, and so my tears and dripping nose were largely invisible. There will clearly be acting awards, for any of the three principals. We spent a moment afterwards imagining which scene would be played for each in nominations.

After the biggest crisis occurs near the end, there is a brief coda where you get a glimpse of the possible futures for these deeply human creatures I grew to care about so much. Imagining how that will go is part of what has kept me wrapped up in it. I would also like to see the whole movie again, maybe when it becomes available for streaming. The pacing at the beginning is slow, and I would like to hone in on how telling details are slowly revealed as the layers of the story are built.

Love to hear what others think!

Quick Trip to Bliss

Just some of the boats at the festival

I was sitting in my recliner, minding my own business, when I got an email from a photography group I subscribe to. They were offering a half day photo field trip entitled "Majestic Tall Ships". 

OK! Boats and photography? Sign me up!

The trip was the last Saturday in October, at the annual Chestertown Downrigging Festival on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. I know about this festival, but I had never been. There are a couple of tall ships based in Chestertown, and for the festival more ships come to join them for an end of season party (it turns out they are most gregarious). I almost went to the festival last year - via my own true love, the Pride of Baltimore II - but the timing didn't work for me. 

A detail from the fancy replica Swedish ship, Kalmar Nichol

Chestertown is an old town on a long river that winds many miles through the flat Eastern Shore peninsula from the Chesapeake Bay just north of the Bay Bridge. I've sailed up the Chester River in my boat, anchored and spent the night, but not made it quite as far as Chestertown. I did drive to the town once, on a winter weekend. I wandered the cobblestone streets, admired the old buildings with rippled glass, and spent quite a bit of time in a used book store with an extensive maritime collection, and ate a crab cake with a beer. But that was years ago and I hadn't been back.

Once I signed up for the photo workshop, I contemplated logistics. Chestertown is about two hours away, if traffic on the Bay Bridge is reasonable. This is a very big "if". The workshop started early in the morning, and I would want to start early enough to enjoy a buffer to the start time. So I decided to check out the options to go the night before and stay in Chestertown.

I was sad to check out lodging options and discover that the few options not sold out were very expensive. Big city expensive. Except for one motel, absurdly cheap and by far the closest location to the waterfront. I'm a penny pincher but not a completely stupid, so I read reviews. Generally, they said "clean enough but really run down". I went with the cheapo option.  And, because I would be on my feet all day (I signed up for a boat ride in the afternoon after the workshop) I thought I would look at staying the two nights. I really wasn't sure what my stamina would be like. I might want a crab cake and a beer after my day on my feet, and driving home in the dark might not be great. El Cheapo was so cheap I could sign up for two nights for less than one in any other option.

The one on the left is my girl, the Pride
The one on the right is the Lynx

I headed out Friday night in the late afternoon, with camera equipment, some snack foods, and a sleeping bag liner and my own pillow. Oh, and a door stop in case I didn't like the lock on the door. I came into Chestertown just a few minutes after sundown, along the waterfront, and the silhouettes of masts and rigging teasing the delights in store for me the next day. The GPS took me to the motel, which was good because there was no sign visible from the road. I had to be buzzed into the office, where a perfectly pleasant young man checked me in and handed me my key. My room was just down from the office in a well-lit location, and I checked out the room. Remembering my "avoid bedbugs" advice I didn't bring in my stuff at first, but reviewed the situation. I pulled up the sheets and looked at the mattress - it looked new, as did the bed linens and pillows. The tiny bathroom had cheerful colorful tile the same vintage and pattern as mine at home and showed its age. But it and the towels were acceptably clean. There was a standard motel heating and cooling unit in the wall under the window, and I got it going. The door had a solid deadbolt that went into a metal frame on the door. I decided that compared to car camping in a state park, (I actually had one spotted as backup) this motel with new sheets was luxury, and it would be fine for the night.

I headed into town to check out the rendezvous for the morning, and to see what could be seen. Things were jumping! Traffic and pedestrians crowds everywhere. After getting orientated, I headed back to the motel. Despite its location across a parking lot from a large liquor store, it was quiet and I felt safe. It was late enough I went to bed with a book and then had a fine night's sleep. The one thing really wrong with the room was, though it had a microwave and little refrigerator, there was no way to make coffee. I had brought instant coffee with me, (part of my travel kit) but there was no cup to hold water in the microwave! I ended up driving a half mile to a McDonalds, maybe the first time in a decade I've been to one. But I do still like a sausage mcmuffin.

My girl
(There was actually very little wind, so the sails are for show)

I made the rendezvous with no problem. The early start meant good free parking. There were about a half dozen photographers there with the instructor, easily identified by their big cameras and backpacks full of lenses and other equipment. (I have a single all in camera because I decided a few years ago I was done with the schlep. It's still a very good camera, with many bells and whistles for adjustments that I am still learning how to use. But it's comparatively light and small.)

We had a fabulous, unseasonably warm, bright and cloudless day. There was a forest of masts from the tall ships. There were also many smaller classic craft, both sailboats and classic motor boats, some of which reminded me of the boats that were common on Bellport Bay in my youth. The big boats were available for deck tours, with crew providing answers to questions. Mid morning, the boats all went out for sails, and we got pictures of them underway from shore. In the afternoon, our workshop was done but most of us stayed and took afternoon sails. It was so fun to all head down the river and back up in company. Many of the smaller craft came with us. I was aboard a smaller schooner that is the official tall ship of the state of New Jersey, the AJ Meerwald. I was purely deck cargo, shifting out of the way of the crew working the ship, and gazing all around. And taking lots and lots of pictures!

The big one is the Kalmar Nichol.
She is a replica of a ship that came to Delaware Bay
in the early 1600s.

I figure I've actually spent cumulatively about six weeks aboard Pride of Baltimore II. I have a gazillion photos of her, all taken from aboard. I enjoy staring up the mast and with my camera capturing patterns and rhythm from the sails and rigging. But it was so fun to see the Pride from another ship, and to be able to get the whole ship in a single photo!

When we got back to the dock in the evening, I was done. It had been very hot, in the 80s, and I was fatigued in every muscle in my body. I strolled slowly into town, and fulfilled my quest for ice cream, which I ate while sauntering back to the car. I went back to El Cheapo Motel, and I took the world's quickest shower, checked out, and drove home in the dark. It was worth the extra night's charge just to have that shower. I was thrilled to get back home with the Cult de Sac party still underway, so I had a chance to chat with some neighbors and drink a beer before tumbling into bed. 

I did absolutely nothing the following day. I was wiped. But it was fabulous and worth it.

Why Don't Americans Have Electric Kettles?

My new drinks station

I've been trying to change some old habits that don't serve me well. In a coaching process I've been following,  they talk about using new habits with a "bigger better offer" to replace the old habits you want to quit. 

For years, I've known I have a late night eating habit. As I've been tuned into my body more I've found it's not always sweets I want, but real food. That is, real food with a comforting vibe. As I've made a point of buying only good bread and always having it sliced and on hand in the freezer, I've found myself having a thick slice or two of toast and butter and cheese or jam, right before bed. I doubt there is much health benefit in turning aside from chocolate and towards toast, but it's easier to convince myself I am truly hungry and I need something when the "something" is at least slightly closer to healthy than chocolate.

Also for years, I've tried to develop a before-bedtime tea habit. I like many herbal teas, and I like the warm beverage, and I like the idea of tea before bed. But I haven't been able to make it stick. I tried a ritual of using a teapot (I have two) and pouring out a cup or two, but that actually seemed like a lot of work compared to grabbing something right from the fridge. I know I am tuned to visual cues, and sometimes it is just a matter of even remembering tea as an option for me. So, I moved my teas into a clear box that lived on the kitchen counter. Sadly, that soon became part of the background and never drove a new ritual. When I have remembered the option of "tea instead", it hasn't felt appealing and I've turned away and reached for the easy sweet or starch.

Well, what else motivates me? Anyone who knows me knows I love a good new gadget! I happened on a sentence somewhere (no remembrance where) that said, "why don't Americans have electric kettles?".  I immediately answered that for myself: because I don't have space for another appliance. But I was taken with the thought of how much easier and quicker an electric kettle is than boiling water in a saucepan on the stove (and then slopping it when pouring from the pan into a mug or teapot) or in a pyrex jug in the microwave, needing to negotiate the hotpad to handle and pour. And so I took another look at my kitchen.

I strive to keep my counters relatively clear in my small kitchen. The only appliances that live on the countertops are daily use: microwave, toaster/convection oven, coffee maker, seltzer maker. I store other appliances (instant pot, food processor, rice cooker) in a low cabinet that is at capacity. I don't have a blender specifically because I don't know where I can store it. I have a bin for onions and other non-refrigerated vegetables on the countertop - I would put them out of sight in the cabinet if I could figure out a spot. But I had this box of teas sitting out on the counter from my failed attempt at visual cuing! If I could reconfigure the food cabinets to find space for the tea below, I could then put an electric kettle in that same spot, next to the coffee maker. 

So in order to cultivate my tea habit, I totally cleaned out my major food cabinet. I don't have a pantry closet in my kitchen- food lives in the fridge or in this cabinet, or with the onions in a bin, or on shelves in the basement. I consider the basement to be for "extra" stuff - I stocked up early in the pandemic, and have kept duplicate soups and beans and grains down there, but not things I'm going to grab every day. I took all the cans, bottles, jars, and boxes out of the cabinet and reviewed mostly expiration dates. I am fairly casual on the dates - things don't go bad overnight, and I figure if I'm cooking well, it'll kill most things. I do some weeding of expired foods all the time, but it had been a while since I looked at everything. By the time I had chucked things more than a year past the expiration date and rationalized with what was in the basement, I had room for a tidy box of teas in the cabinet. 

Part of my pantry cabinet, with tea bottom right

By then, I had already ordered an electric kettle and it was due to arrive the next day. I decided to further create a sense of indulgence around tea by acquiring a new cup to be especially for what I hoped would become a nightly habit. So I took a trip to where the rich people live and went to Crate and Barrel!

When I lived in Chicago in the 1980s, Crate and Barrel was a way of life. I probably went there a couple of times a month. I eat on a Crate and Barrel dining room table, drink from my Crate and Barrel glasses, and sleep on my Crate and Barrel bed, every single day. I remember when Ikea arrived in this country, I explained it to some people as a cheaper mass-market version of Crate and Barrel. (When I wanted to take my girl with me to Crate and Barrel when she was in high school, I described it as an upscale Ikea.)  I still love their housewares, even though their furniture has gone completely over the top and out of reach. So if I wanted a special mug, C&B was my destination.

I spent a long time admiring absolutely everything in the store. I had just read a novel about rich people from the upper east side of NY, and the vision of a C&B house decorated for Christmas entranced me. White, white, white, with accents of rich red and gold, and very rare dark green bits. Lights and candles everywhere! But I managed to restrain myself, (I do not need and cannot store a completely new holiday dish service!) and I got only a couple of new little ornaments, a cute Christmas mug, and two new mugs for tea (they were only $4 and $5 each!). Also a couple of Christmas presents for my kids who are prime housewares ages.

So far, I'm 3-for-3 nights with my cup of tea. So far so good, after my investment of a couple of hours of cabinet cleaning and a couple of hours round trip to C&B. I love my electric kettle, with 90 seconds to ready to pour! I love my new, clean-lined C&B mugs! My favorite tea is lemon-ginger, but I have a couple of others as well to rotate through, and I look forward to exploring more varieties. Am I cutting back my late night nosh? Well, I'm not really focused on "tea instead" so much as "tea first". If I still want something afterwards, I'll go get it. But so far, I haven't wanted anything else.

What are your favorite teas? Let me know in the comments!

Fifteen Years

Not a day goes by without missing her.

Tidbits: Food and Eating

 Here's a few miscellaneous points, mostly about food and eating. I'm so aware of the privileges I have: both time and money to control most of what and when I eat. The tidbits below reflect where I am right now, not necessarily any kind of a model for me or anyone else.

• I'm really really trying on mindful eating. To that end, I am trying to break one very long-standing habit: I no longer read while eating alone, whether a meal or a snack. And I even try to avoid listening, at least to words (no podcasts, books or radio). I'm trying to concentrate on what I'm eating. I'm trying to slow down, smell and taste, really pay attention. As it turns out, rumination can take me away just as completely as some books, but I am continually trying to come back to the food - what am I eating, how do I feel in my body as I eat? I've been living alone for 42 years, for 42 years the majority of my meals have been alone, this is a huge habit for me!

• I am doubling down on Michael Pollan's advice:
  Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.
  I think this covers what are right now termed "ultra-processed foods", which Pollan would call "food-like substances".  I'm not interested in cooking absolutely everything from scratch (I'm not going to bake my own bread or make my own yogurt or smoke my own bacon) but I am reading lots of labels and buying things with less processing. Fresh bread from the bakery, not packaged breads filled with fillers and preservatives. Tortilla chips made in the store, not shipped in the bag. And always, always, trying to eat more veggies.
  

• There are certain fresh foods that I pretty much only buy at the farmer's market when in season. Corn on the cob, peaches, and large tomatoes come to mind. I've not found store-bought versions, even fresh and labeled "local" to be any where as good. I do use frozen corn and canned tomatoes other times, but I won't bother buying fresh.

• Other veggies, like eggplants and broccoli and zucchini, are better at the farmer's market, but the difference seems less. However, I was shocked one time by the difference. Early in the summer, I bought a cute little cabbage at the market and shredded it and made a vinaigrette cole slaw to eat that day and it was so good I still remember it! Before that, cabbage would have been my poster child for "no difference". But cabbage still is acceptable as it gets old, just has to be treated differently.
  

• I live alone, and shopping is often an exercise in restraint. Fresh food doesn't keep long, that's just the way it is. I try to restrict myself to only one or two vegetables in a supermarket shopping trip, with a specific plan about what I will make when. I don't cook every day - often there are leftovers and even my schedule can get full - and so I have to pay close attention.  But I'm able to get to the store often, with my loose schedule.
  
  
• Restraint is much harder at the farmer's market, since there is so much that is so appetizing, it's only available for a short time, and I often am not able to get there every week. But, unless I'm sharing with others, two ears of corn (eat that night), four peaches (one a day), and three tomatoes (one a day) seems to avoid throwing things away.
   
• I don't want to cook elaborately very often. In the past, I often relied on convenience foods and bottled sauces to get dinner together quickly. I'm now trying to avoid bottled sauces because many of them contain odd ingredients. So I'm cooking from recipes more than I used to - but probably not more than once a week. I also strive to portion out and freeze meals from the leftovers because my tolerance for the same thing might be three days at most.
  
  
• I am aware I have a habit of getting involved in something in the afternoons and then in mid-afternoon realizing I'm very hungry and I don't have the energy or will to cook something from scratch. I'm tackling the habit by consciously trying to start cooking much earlier in the day, sometimes eating "dinner" in mid-afternoon. This also requires planning light meals or snacks for the early evening, so I don't grab the cookies.
  
  
• I do still buy convenience foods for when I'm tired and don't have leftovers. Frozen meals from Trader Joe's or Whole Foods still have long lists of ingredients but can be tasty. There is a line of frozen foods at Whole Foods, "Saffron Road", that has a very tasty lamb saag. And Trader Joe's has a saag paneer that is really good. But I'm much better at managing my own leftovers from the freezer, so the processed store bought ones are much less of my diet right now.
  
  
• I discovered I can air fry frozen vegetables right from the freezer! So much tastier than microwaved! That helps me add veggies to the diet when I don't have fresh ones hanging around. And I do indulge myself sometimes in the conveniently pre-cut veggies at Whole Foods, though the markup is appalling and makes me ashamed of myself. (It's not the money, per se, it's the laziness.) I know I won't cut up a butternut squash - way too much hard work - so I've been buying the cubed stuff. Today, I found a peeled-and-cut-in-half butternut, wrapped in plastic. It was half the price of the cubed stuff, so I'm going to give it a whirl.
  
• Finally, a recipe. This unusual chili is probably the most elaborate thing I make, though really it’s not that much. But it’s also got the most complex and intriguing tastes and textures of anything I make. I’ve made it several times, usually with fake vegan meat, though most recently with turkey since it was for just me. It lends itself to slow and mindful eating by virtue of its complexity and goodness. Highly recommended. https://www.washingtonpost.com/recipes/turkey-and-butternut-squash-chili/. (If the recipe is firewalled and you want it, let me know and I can put a copy in the comments.)

What Have I Learned From 35 Years of Tracking My Weight

Would I like to lose weight? Yes.

Will I lose weight? Maybe.

Look at this picture (if you are on a phone turn it sideways):

The horizontal grid lines are ten pounds apart.
The blue line was my goal weight for most of this time period.
The red line is a place I'd be happy to be now.

This is the last 35 years of my life, as told by my weight. Key on the numbers:

1. 1988: I join weight watchers for the first time, at age 33. The weight I was then is a weight I would love to be now!
   
2. 1997: I move from Chicago to DC for a major career change, the same week my father dies. After about a year settling in, I buckle down and lose weight.
   
3. 2008: My sister dies unexpectedly, resulting in a major lifestyle change as I become a parent in the midst of grief.
   
4. 2010: I start this blog, determined to gain control over at least the physical parts of my life as life with grief-stricken adolescents remains chaotic. I de-emphasize work.
   
5. 2019: I retire, which blows up every habit I ever had. And then the pandemic strikes.
   
6. 2022: I embrace "intuitive eating", buying and eating whatever I want whenever I want.
   

Why do I keep coming back to this picture? Am I just wallowing in fact that my current weight is right up at my all time peak from 25 years ago? What can I learn by looking at this history, enriched with other stories of my life? Memories are faulty, but here my actual weight is recorded accurately. Looking back over this blog has also been helpful, to color in what was going on in my life during the ups and downs recorded on the graph. Here are some tidbits I've gleaned from anchoring my other memories in the truth of my weight:

• Losing a lot of weight for me is likely to happen relatively quickly, if at all.
• Not paying attention to what I eat and what I weigh means I'll gain weight.
• Each significant weight loss involved eating low carb a lot of the time, not eliminating sweets entirely, and never choosing low-calorie formulations of real food but instead cooking and eating more vegetables and meat from scratch.
• Each significant weight loss required a great deal of attention and focus, taking up bandwidth in my life.
  
• Each weight loss period was also associated with increased exercise and conscious activity levels.
  

How might I turn the above information into actual weight loss? Do I have the motivation and interest to focus on this? Stay tuned, I guess, because I don't know the answer yet.

California Dreamin'

 

View from the dorm

Wow, is northern California absolutely beautiful! And, it seems my girl is in love with it. And with school. And with the people she has met so far. I'm feeling she is well launched! 

The last week before leaving was fraught, indeed. Many last minute errands, several farewells (her brother threw her a going-away party!), and tears as we said goodbye to the dogs and drove off to the airport. But through all of this, "It's gonna be great!" was the mantra, even if sometimes through gritted teeth.

We got to SFO mid-day, and drove the almost two hours to Santa Cruz nonstop, going directly to Target to buy the essentials we didn't get in advance. By then we were exhausted, so off to the motel for a rest, before venturing out in the car to get more fully oriented. I was astounded by the change in terrain from the relatively flat and green town by the water, up the mountain through brown meadows to the wooded top part of campus where the dorm is. My ears popped on the way up, every time. We found our appointed unloading spot for the next morning, located one of her classroom buildings, and drove randomly around the mountainous campus, and then down to the waterfront campus three miles away where one of her classes would be. The main campus, not even including the coastal campus, is enormous and beautiful, stretching a couple of miles up and down the mountain, and about a mile across. It is completely separate from the town. There are clusters of housing units with food and various amenities, called colleges, and other clusters of the academic classrooms, laboratories, and libraries. They are designed into the landscape so that you don't see buildings until you are one them.

Evening view from overlook,
halfway up the mountain to campus

We got takeout dumplings from across the street from the motel. There was (yet another) orientation zoom session she had to be on in the evening, and she also wanted to take her time doing her hair in the privacy of our motel bathroom (before having to be in the gang bathrooms). After eating, I pretty much crashed out while she seemed to be having a good time on the zoom call. I fell into my signature hour-long deep sleep the minute I closed my eyes, but woke up when she came back into the room after facetiming with a friend in the motel courtyard. We both tossed and turned, dozed and woke, off and on for the rest of the nervous night.

Dorm from parking lot
Many stairs involved!

My girl had astutely signed us up for an 8:15 unloading slot, so we were among the first wave of cheerful students and parents rolling laundry hampers full of luggage and bedding and boxes around parking lots and into the dorms. Her room is a large triple, and she got first pick of the beds. All of the setups were the same - lofted upper single bunks with wooden desks and wardrobes under each one. She picked the one that seemed like it would have a view into the redwood grove behind the dorm from the bed! 

We had a flurry of opening bags and unboxing things, laying out power strips and surge suppressors, while waiting for roommates to show up. No-one joined us, and we decided to head back out to Target to knock items off the new list of more useful stuff we had been compiling while we unpacked and set up. It felt familiar to go back to the same store, but we also saw a Bed, Bath and Beyond with a final liquidation clearance and went in. We scored some high-end sheets as her second set for a pitifully low amount of money. 

After Target we went to a Hawaiian poke bar I had spotted on the map, and we got the absolute best poke bowls ever. But we had to hustle back for the first event happening on campus. 

Digressive anecdote follows:

The bed that trapped me

As she went off to the orientation thing, I decided to stay and set up the new foam pad and mattress cover and make up her bed. I pulled the plastic wrap off the compressed foam mattress topper, and from the ladder at the foot of the bed started unrolling it, and got the rest of it laid out while standing on the floor at the side and head of the bed. As the foam continued to puff up, I climbed back up the ladder at the foot and flung the top of the white fabric mattress cover as far towards the head of the bed as I could, and then tucked in the foot. The cover stuck to the foam pad, so from the floor I pulled and tugged to get it deployed over the rest of the top of the bed. I reached between the wooden bed frame and the wall to get at the cover from the head, and my arm was suddenly stuck! I couldn't pull my elbow back out through the small gap between the frame and the wall, even though I had gotten it in there somehow!

It was hilarious, and scary. I was alone in her securely locked dorm room - only the coded ID card could unlock the door from the outside. My arm wasn't uncomfortable while stuck in there, but no matter how I twisted and maneuvered, it wouldn't come out. I couldn't move the heavy wooden bed frame, anchored in place with the heavy wooden desk and newly stuffed with clothes wardrobe pushed against it. I tried to climb up the bedframe to slide my arm out the top of the frame, but I couldn't cling to the frame with my arm stuck. Feeling like Lucy Ricardo, I contemplated my next options.

My right arm was stuck, my left arm was free. My phone was in my lower cargo pocket on my right leg. I might be able to reach it, and one-handed dial my girl, but I pictured dropping it, having to remove my shoes and socks with only my feet to pick it up with my toes. Besides, the cell phone coverage in her room was lousy. Then I had an image of the missing roommates coming in with parents to find me stuck there and barefoot. 

That wouldn't do, so with a mighty shove by my stuck right hand and a pull with my free left hand, I moved the heavy wardrobe an inch. Then I could slide the bed just the half inch I needed, and I was free! Just as I was rubbing my poor red but free elbow, my girl came back in.

Return to main narrative:

At 3 that first afternoon, there was a half hour reception, introduction of some staff, and a very pointed dismissal of parents to allow the students to attend some mandatory meetings and optional additional events. We were each on our own. I went to the beach.

Santa Cruz has a road along the waterfront, with several parking areas every few blocks. There is a walking / biking path right along the cliff edge - the water is several yards down from the land. The weather was severe clear, and the California sun felt like it had a different quality than we get in the east. The temperature was perfect though the fierce sun meant that often you need a sweater in the shade but long for shorts and a skimpy top in the sun. I walked and sat on benches and read, content to be in such a beautiful place and rejoicing that my girl seemed to be settling in.

Saturday morning we exchanged texts, and set up a tentative evening rendezvous. Knowing she would be so busy, I floated the idea of going home early, but that received a lukewarm reception. So I decided to embrace leisure and tourism.

Seals under the wharf

Amusement park from the wharf

Santa Cruz also has a downtown, a municipal wharf, and an amusement park on a boardwalk by the beach. I drove out to the wharf, and spent time walking the wharf, people watching and then also seal watching. I went to a dog beach, and spent a very long time watching the canine and human interactions. I read on a bench on the sea cliff in the sun. From the motel, I walked to a beer garden (passing three other beer gardens on the way) and had a lovely lunch. 

My girl managed to squeeze me in for about an hour Saturday night, during which time we drove around downtown and stopped at Trader Joe's for a couple of necessities. But she had to get back to campus to attend a forest rave with her new friends. Also, one of her roommates had appeared and she wanted to spend some time with her. We set up another tentative rendezvous for the next night.

State park beach, with Coastal Campus seen in the background

So Sunday, I went to a lovely fancy breakfast at a downtown cafe. Then, I went to see Oppenheimer. (I opted against Barbie, because I was afraid that on a weekend daytime showing there might be kids.) While in the movie, I got a text from my girl saying she was downtown having lunch with friends, and would be happy to meet me there when she was done. The timing worked well. We met up easily ("downtown" is not that big) and wandered together for a while. We made another brief shopping trip for some more necessities (this time at CVS) and I dropped her off after a couple of hours. She had some pre-work to do before classes the next day. I had time to walk to ice cream and the beach, and one more trip to pick up a useful item for my girl at a hardware store (a flashlight - they have already had a power outage in her dorm!)

First day of school,
Grade 15

Her first class was at 9 am at the Coastal Campus. As I didn't need to leave for SFO until 9:30, I volunteered to pick her up and drive her to class. As a rule, she will take the bus, unless she manages to find a fellow student who drives. So Monday morning, I went to the usual pickup spot, and enjoyed a few minutes in the redwood grove while waiting. While she might have been pleased to just hang out and party with her new friends, she exclaimed that she loved her pre-work, was absolutely convinced she was studying the right thing. Biology is her jam. 

My trip home was long but completely uneventful. And, I am so happy for my girl, embracing the next step of her life with gusto! Her dad picked me up at the airport and was also thrilled to hear she is doing so well!

My Ireland: History, Whiskey and Beer

The stars are where we spent the nights

I loved my trip to Ireland! If I were to be totally honest, in terms of frequency, my experience was not quite the order I have it in the title. It would more accurately be Beer, History, and Whiskey, but I went for the lovely rhythm. It's kind of the Irish way.

This was my first trip with this set of folks. We had my Boat Partner (BP), her husband the history guy (HG), and their good friend, Mr. Irish Boyo. (IB). I have spent a great deal of time with BP, sometimes in unpleasant or difficult circumstances, so I knew we were likely to be compatible for travel. Since they've been married for 40+ years, I also know HG, and while we are totally different people, I like him quite a bit. IB was an unknown quantity, but he came highly recommended.

I did none of the planning - it was primarily a scouting trip for future forays by IB, who was in the role of our native guide. He has a lot of Irish heritage and feeling, but had only been in-country for a two week tour twenty years ago, but that made him a comparative expert. So he laid out a suggested itinerary and asked for feedback and help scheduling hotels. The idea was to hit certain specific historical and cultural points, with as many different pubs and beers as could be worked in. It all worked fine.

Lovely green countryside

We flew non-stop from Newark to Dublin, the cheapest non-stops available when IB booked the flights six months ago. (IB spelled my name wrong in the reservation, an error I didn't have a chance to discover until we got to the airport, and I spent an unpleasant hour with Air Lingus customer service getting it fixed, but it finally worked out. Note to self: make sure to double check oneself, don't rely on others. And arrive early at the airport.) The flight arrived at 5 am local time, so we got some coffee and our first Irish scones at the airport while we figured out transport into town. We opted for the local bus, and were in downtown Dublin at 6:00 am. With our not-insignificant baggage, standing on a deserted street corner, every business in sight shuttered We couldn't get to the AirBnB until the afternoon. As a result, we dragged our luggage around quite a bit (had to stop for more coffee and scones) before we finally found a place to store them. Hooray for the app Luggage Hero! 

BP, IB, HG, and me in yet another pub

Our biggest difficulty was very few things were open early. This turned out to be the case everywhere we went. Restaurants listed under "breakfast" opened at 8:30, 9:00 or even 10:00! Even some hotel restaurants started serving at 8:30. Because we wanted to cover so much territory, we wanted to be up and out each day. We found that there was the occasional coffee shop open early, and while they looked like pastry-only places, to our delight most of them served the "Full Irish Breakfast" that we soon loved. Fried eggs, "bacon" (looked like ham), my very favorite Irish sausage, black or white pudding (don't google it), baked beans, and toast. Luckily, we found such a coffee shop the first day (for what by some counts was Third Breakfast). We also found during our road trip many gas stations that had surprisingly good cafes inside - fresh baked goods, good coffee, hot cafeteria-type service (more sausage!) We didn't try them for anything other than breakfast, I have doubts about how good they would be for dinner.

From left: IB, BP, HG, and me

By noon on our first day we were ready to get to the Guinness brewery. They have a six-story "visitor experience" building, not tours, but it was well done. We also learned how to pour a pint with a perfect head on it, and sample some of their other beers. This was a good launch for the Beer portion of our tour. IB is a real beer guy, with a tap room in his basement that displays his collections of stolen beer glasses and coasters, and an app to keep track of everything he's tried with notes. With a brief quiet chat with the bartender, he added to his display collection right off on the first day.

Every dinner, and a few lunches, were in pubs, and were very good. There was a sameness to the menus, generally hot sandwiches and chips (fries), fish and chips, usually something more ambitious such as broiled fresh fish, sometimes other traditional Irish food such as lamb stew. I liked it all. The chips were especially good, and just chips and beer could be dinner some nights. I managed to find a few afternoon ice creams, but generally sweets were not in our plans, as most don't go so well with the beer. The first thing we'd do upon entering a pub was to scan the taps. Guinness was always there, along with their related brands, plus Coors and Corona and an Italian beer often showed up. But often there was also one or two taps dedicated to a local brew, and that usually became our choice. I learned what I liked, but didn't stick to it. Experimentation was the name of the game.

Early morning in Wexford

Walking through the cities is one of the great pleasures of traveling. Sadly, I am out of condition and feeling my bad knee. The first day, according to my fitbit, we covered nine miles, much of it hauling around our baggage. None of the other days hit that total, but still there was enough walking to double my average steps from the previous month. I went slow, and I sat whenever I could, but I got everywhere I wanted to get. Many of the ruins and castles we visited had hills or stairs, and the stairs in particular slowed me way down. When we were at a history stop or in a city, we often split up during the day, and I could amuse myself with my camera and not feel like I was holding anyone back. We learned how to take buses in Dublin --google maps to tell us what to look for where, excellent real time signage, all fares 2.60 exact change -- and BP and I rode in the front seat of a double decker all along the river front, big fun. Taxis were available to flag down, and Uber had an arrangement so the app would summon a taxi (with roof light and meter) and you would pay through the app like usual. I guess there aren't drivers using their own cars there.

Wexford waterfront

We picked up a rental in downtown Dublin the second day and headed out of town in the pouring rain. IB was our driver, and BP his co-pilot. Those first few miles, with a lot of traffic all on the wrong side of the road, we were all helping co-pilot, as we got used to traffic circles and cryptic road signs. We had phone-based navigation, which took us on all sorts of roads, including narrow tracks with signs saying "oncoming traffic in the middle of the road". It was fun watching IB learn to drive, and BP learn how to help him out. We checked off each new accomplishment (passed someone on an expressway! passed someone on a two lane road! 15-point turn on an unpaved lane with ditches!) By the end, when we returned to Dublin, IB was relaxed and confident.

Just a random ruin we stopped at

Our group dynamics also grew more relaxed and confident. I realized that HG was going to zig and zag as he saw a new squirrel to chase, and he couldn't pass anyone without striking up a conversation (I said we were very different.) IB and I grew more relaxed as we got to know each other. I knew we were doing OK, though. On the third morning, we were cranky (annoying hotel, no breakfast yet, changing plans on the fly without discussing it) when IB smashed his finger during the daily assembly of the 3D puzzle that was our luggage in the small car. He said (I paraphrase) "fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck FUCK". As we got in the car, someone said, in a small voice, "fucking luggage". Someone else said "fucking hotel". Someone else said, "no fucking breakfast". "Fucking small cars." "Fucking hotel clerk". It went on, and we were all dissolving into giggles as we hit the road. 

From the outside, the castle-ie-ist castle on a city street

We made bunches of history stops. There were ruined castles everywhere, many of them open to be explored. We stopped at battle sites and markers and a museum for the Irish rising in 1798. HG had created and is marketing a board game about the conflict, after meticulous research (everything hinged on whether or not the French landed their army). In Cork, we visited an island that had served as a fortress and prison in the 19th and 20th century. IB's grandfather escaped to America from Cork during the Irish Civil War in the 1920s, but would have ended up in that prison had he not run in time. I don't know so much about the convoluted history of Ireland, but had done enough reading to understand how Ireland was England's first colony, and served as a testing ground for many colonial policies used elsewhere in the empire. 

Big 19th century house repurposed as contemporary abbey

Much of the preparation I had made for the trip was reading novels with Irish settings and scenes. I was happy to find connections. I read This is Happiness, by Niall Williams, set in a small village in 1950. It's your basic coming-of-age story, but the backdrop is the coming of electricity to the village. I was thrilled to read a display in a museum about Rural Electrification in 1950's Ireland, and to see many of the dynamics that played out in the book be reflected there (maybe the author had seen the same display?) In a still-functioning but open to the public abbey, I read about how suppression of the Catholic orders and indeed education for Catholics from Henry VIII through Cromwell and right up to the twentieth century led many religious orders  to establish Irish foundations in France and Spain. This abbey had finally moved back to Ireland from France during the First World War, but they walled up their precious relicts in the catacombs back in France. This was, indeed, a plot point in a book I read that takes place during the First World War! 

We toured two whiskey distilleries, Tullamore DEW, in Tullamore, and Jameson, in Dublin (they don't actually make whiskey in Dublin anymore so it was another "visitor experience"). The Tullamore one was fabulous! Irish coffee to start, a complete tour including a sample right from the barrel in the aging warehouse, and more samples and guided tasting. Jameson was cheesy, but fun, and also included guided tasting. 

Our very own castle!

We stayed in two AirBnBs and the rest hotels. Often we had a hotel on the outskirts of town (much cheaper), so the Uber/taxi was useful to get us to walk around towns and visit pubs. One AirBnB was a castle! We had the whole castle to ourselves, seventy-five steps high to get out onto the battlements. It was basically a square tower, with one function for each floor, so not only did we each get our own bedroom, but we had our own floor! There were great handholds available for the spiral staircase, and especially for the transition required from staircase to floor at each level - it involved a bit of jockeying for me, to make sure I stepped up with my good leg each time. The castle was in the middle of nowhere, so we stopped at a grocery store and bought food and drink to carry us through. It could have been cold, but both the flooring and the bed were heated. We met the hosts outside in the morning (they live in a cottage nearby) and heard a bit about the restoration. They are booked almost always, so hopefully their labor of love / investment is paying off.

My castle bedroom

My castle bedroom also came with its own canon

All of the castle details were exquisite

Castle stairs, with rope for handhold

One comment on Irish wiring. They use the UK electricity plugs, and each plug also had an on-off switch, sometimes some distance from the plug itself. Both AirBnB showers had a distant on/off switch on a wall outside the bathroom, and then an electrical unit inside the shower with an on-off switch that created the hot water and water pressure. Never saw such a thing before, but I have read in novels about British old houses with retrofitted bathrooms with "geysers" to heat the water for each bathtub. I guess this is the latest version of that.

Cobh, from the island in the harbor

My favorite stop was Cork, and the associated small town of Cobh. It was a very sweet small town (very accomodating to tourists). This is where we went out to the island in the harbor for a half day. I spent my time outside, climbing the walls and taking in the views. The island had many small focused little museum exhibits, about its time as a fortress and its time as a prison, but I skipped most of that. (The guys were mostly in there.)

 

 

 

Scenic Cobh

A beautiful day to be outside-Spike Island in Cork Harbor

When we got to Cork for the night, we rode a taxi from our outskirts hotel to downtown, and followed the advice of the taxi driver. First, a brief stop at the English Market, then some gift shopping, then to a local brewery, a different local restaurant/pub, and finally to yet another pub where we finally encountered trad (traditional) music, one of our quests. These were musicians not exactly hired by the pub, not a band, who came in to play. There were four fiddles, a flute/penny whistle, and an Irish piper. The talking and noise of the pub went on around them, but I was fortunate enough to eventually get a seat by them and really listen and observe. There was a young woman who asked questions and got kind direction from the older guys. It was really sweet. 

Busy pub!

 

We had extraordinary luck with the weather - the only rain was our first couple of days in Dublin and down to Wexford. It may have actually rained other days, but not what you would really call rain. Just some extra thick wet air. But we were blessed with a lot of clear skies and beautiful views. And the rain is what makes everything so very very green.

Ruined abbey

Abbey from the inside

Vista along the Ring of Kerry- rough west coast

I took many pictures of the intimate details
This is on a rock wall outside a graveyard

We got many recommendations for restaurants from TripAdvisor, and all of the tours we took asked us to review on TripAdvisor. So it seemed fair play to me, and I did.

Final pub night