** Names and identifying details have been changed to preserve the privacy of everyone involved. **
This is a cautionary tale of how to not live your life...
Last week the friend of a friend had a heart attack and died while he was in the midst of diabetes-related dialysis treatment. Let's call the newly deceased John and our mutual friend Rachel. Because John has very little family anywhere, and none within several hundred miles of where he lived, he'd asked Rachel to act on his behalf if he were ever too incapacitated to do it himself. That was several years ago and until his sudden and unexpected death, she'd never been called on to make decisions of this import for him or anyone else. And it's been hard!
She's had to negotiate to get the body released from the hospital, get the funeral home to cremate his body (his expressed wish) with only a weak promise of payment (no life insurance), cancel his apartment lease and utilities, and, today, clean out his few worldly belongings and put them in storage until his family can come and claim what they want. Rachel told me John left behind one big basket of clothes and "they are dirty and not in good shape at all" so she's going to just throw them all away. Later in our conversation, she added: "I think he had more socks than any other clothes." Rachel listed a couch, love seat, bookcase, 4 end tables, a coffee table, 2 kitchen chairs, a folding table, a 3-drawer filing cabinet, an electric wheelchair, and a hospital bed as the rest of his possessions. "That's it. That's all he had in his life. No papers. No clutter. No nothing." For food, she said he had several packages of Ramen and a few Mom's Meals in the freezer. (Mom's Meals are pre-packaged frozen meals delivered directly to elderly and disabled folks as one of the options they can choose from for community supports.)
On the one hand, I'm awestruck at the simplicity in which John survived. Not having many possessions to care for is appealing in some ways. At the same time, it makes me terribly sad that a life, any life, can be summed up this way. And, yes, I am painfully aware of the implications it holds for me and the loneliness I often feel.
Rachel feels guilty for not being a better friend and spending more time with him and making sure he had food and nice things. But John chose to let his disability isolate him. He chose to keep his social circle very small. And since the only picture I've ever seen has him glaring like he's about to snap the photo taker's head off... I can only surmise he spent a lot of time lonely and angry. Loneliness can do that to you - you don't want people around you and at the same time resent them for not being there, for having lives of their own, for seeking happiness without you. Loneliness can do a number on your emotional health that doesn't make sense unless you've personally experienced the depths of that dark sadness.
So my caution is this: Take a moment to reflect on your life and how you want to be remembered. Is a short list of temporal things in bad repair enough? What legacy do you want to leave behind?
Friday, January 31, 2020
Sunday, January 26, 2020
Lehi's Dream: What's In It For Me?
Over the past couple of years my church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, has undergone some major shifts. The doctrine is the same, but some of the details about how we practice it have changed very much. We've gone from a 3-hour block of Sunday meetings to a 2-hour block and began to shift responsibility for learning the gospel to the home. Instead of going to church to learn God's word and plan home activities to support those lessons, now what happens at church is to support the lessons learned at home. It sounds good but I've struggled to make it happen in my own life.
This year I'm working hard on creating a better me, both in body and spirit, and I was thinking about what I was doing differently at the time in my life when I was the happiest. I realized the depth of my commitment to my spiritual practice has slipped. Badly. Since we are still pretty early in the year, I decided I'd try harder and that I'd catch up to the current Come Follow Me curriculum. The discussion/lesson I just finished was intended for the week running January 13-19. It's about Lehi's Dream in the Book of Mormon. The reading is 1 Nephi 8-10.
Lehi is a prophet who lived in Jerusalem about 600 years before Jesus Christ was born. God commanded him in a dream to leave with his family and seek a promised land before Jerusalem fell and many Jews were carried off as Babylonian slaves. He did. And just like in our families some of the kids grumbled and rebelled while others believed in his words and obeyed. God used them all to accomplish His purposes. After this little family has been wandering in the wilderness for a period of time, Lehi has another vision.
He sees a tree in the distance with the most glorious fruit; fruit that is so delicious and satisfying that he describes it as highly desirable. To get to the tree, you must grab hold of an iron rod to guide you along a narrow path. If you let go, there are mists of darkness where you will get lost and a dirty roiling river where you will drown if you fall in. Lehi, after he's tasted the fruit, wants all of his family to partake as well but his two rebellious oldest sons choose not to grab hold of the rod and follow the path to get to the tree. Lehi also sees endless throngs of people pressing forward; some of them find the path, some wander off into darkness, some drown, and some reject the gift after they've sampled it. There's even a 'great and spacious building' without a foundation where naysayers have gathered to scoff at those who are on the path to the tree or have made it and tasted but have doubts.
The account of his vision is full of symbolism that applies to being a believer in today's world of ridiculing unbelievers. The fruit is God's love, the iron rod is the scriptures whose message guides us in our journey back to God, the mists and river are the temptations to do things we know we shouldn't... But there's also a very individual message to every person who studies it. We are all there as part of that endless throng. And so it offers an invitation to reflect on just where you are in your journey.
If I'm honest, and I am, I've become way too casual in how I'm making my journey. Along this path, I've stopped to sit on the rocks alongside it for a long rest. And I've backtracked a few times to hang out with a different set of friends. I've hooked my pinkie finger around the iron rod and leaned way out over the chasm of the filthy river just to see what it looked like. Heck, I've probably spun round and round on it like a kid on monkey bars a few times. My path looks nothing like what the words "strait and narrow" bring to mind... but more like one that weaves and winds wildly, grows faint in spots, and is blocked by huge boulders in other places. This is a good time to reign that in and rest my soul in the simplicity of following a clearly marked path.
Gordon B. Hinckley once said, "To me, the gospel is not a great mass of theological jargon. It is a simple and beautiful and logical thing, with one quiet truth following another in orderly sequence. I do not fret over the mysteries. I do not worry whether the heavenly gates swing or slide. I am only concerned that they open."
That it's simple and beautiful and logical really resonates with me... it's a good description of the criteria I'm using to rebuild my life.
This year I'm working hard on creating a better me, both in body and spirit, and I was thinking about what I was doing differently at the time in my life when I was the happiest. I realized the depth of my commitment to my spiritual practice has slipped. Badly. Since we are still pretty early in the year, I decided I'd try harder and that I'd catch up to the current Come Follow Me curriculum. The discussion/lesson I just finished was intended for the week running January 13-19. It's about Lehi's Dream in the Book of Mormon. The reading is 1 Nephi 8-10.
Lehi is a prophet who lived in Jerusalem about 600 years before Jesus Christ was born. God commanded him in a dream to leave with his family and seek a promised land before Jerusalem fell and many Jews were carried off as Babylonian slaves. He did. And just like in our families some of the kids grumbled and rebelled while others believed in his words and obeyed. God used them all to accomplish His purposes. After this little family has been wandering in the wilderness for a period of time, Lehi has another vision.
 |
| Lehi's vision of the Tree of Life by Steven Neal |
He sees a tree in the distance with the most glorious fruit; fruit that is so delicious and satisfying that he describes it as highly desirable. To get to the tree, you must grab hold of an iron rod to guide you along a narrow path. If you let go, there are mists of darkness where you will get lost and a dirty roiling river where you will drown if you fall in. Lehi, after he's tasted the fruit, wants all of his family to partake as well but his two rebellious oldest sons choose not to grab hold of the rod and follow the path to get to the tree. Lehi also sees endless throngs of people pressing forward; some of them find the path, some wander off into darkness, some drown, and some reject the gift after they've sampled it. There's even a 'great and spacious building' without a foundation where naysayers have gathered to scoff at those who are on the path to the tree or have made it and tasted but have doubts.
The account of his vision is full of symbolism that applies to being a believer in today's world of ridiculing unbelievers. The fruit is God's love, the iron rod is the scriptures whose message guides us in our journey back to God, the mists and river are the temptations to do things we know we shouldn't... But there's also a very individual message to every person who studies it. We are all there as part of that endless throng. And so it offers an invitation to reflect on just where you are in your journey.
If I'm honest, and I am, I've become way too casual in how I'm making my journey. Along this path, I've stopped to sit on the rocks alongside it for a long rest. And I've backtracked a few times to hang out with a different set of friends. I've hooked my pinkie finger around the iron rod and leaned way out over the chasm of the filthy river just to see what it looked like. Heck, I've probably spun round and round on it like a kid on monkey bars a few times. My path looks nothing like what the words "strait and narrow" bring to mind... but more like one that weaves and winds wildly, grows faint in spots, and is blocked by huge boulders in other places. This is a good time to reign that in and rest my soul in the simplicity of following a clearly marked path.
That it's simple and beautiful and logical really resonates with me... it's a good description of the criteria I'm using to rebuild my life.
Saturday, January 25, 2020
Brownies With That Delectable Edge
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| Copper Chef Divided Brownie Pan |
You know. Someone like... ME!
Then I Googled it and found out it should be more than just the pan and dividers. There should also be a lift-out tray.
Sigh. Inward whine.
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| The dividers are removable so you can adjust portion sizes. And everything has a non-stick cerami-tech coating so food doesn't stick! |
Now the recipe is nothing special. It's 2 boxes of Betty Crocker mix and the oil, water, and eggs it calls for on the back of the box. (The pan is 15 1/2 X 9 1/2 so two don't even fill it generously!) What is special is how the dividers create that slightly crispy from the side of the baking pan edge on every side of every single brownie!!
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| I think I'll sample that little one up in the top corner that got a little shorted on batter... |
The best video I found about using the pan was put out by QVC in 2017 when they were selling them (with a lid - I want... whine!) for close to $30. In it, they give some other ideas of food to cook in the pan like lasagna, shepherd's pie, quiche, and meatloaf. Put the divider in after the dish is cooked and... perfect portions! For my brownies, I used all the dividers so it made 18. For these other dishes, I'd pull some out so it makes 9 servings.
Brownies are a hit! What shall I make next?
Even Cornbread Has A History
If there were a clear career path that supplied a living wage, I would become a Culinary Historian for the final chapter of my career life. But there's not so the history and cultural meaning of food will remain a hobby that fascinates me...
A while back there was a 'placed post' (aka advertisement) in my Facebook feed from The New York Times that got my attention. It was titled, The True Story Behind Your Thanksgiving Cornbread. Now I don't know about you, but I don't reserve my cornbread eating for just Thanksgiving... I like it. And I'll eat it anytime I get the chance. Always have, always will. And I've heard the whole spiel about adding sugar makes it into corn cake. Whatever! I'm Southern by adoption and I like a little bit of sweetness in mine so I'm not even entertaining that argument.
The article, though, captivated me. It took a page from a newish cookbook by Toni Tipton-Martin, "Jubilee: Recipes From Two Centuries of African American Cooking" about the roots of cornbread. In it, she shares that cornbread stuffing, a Thanksgiving staple to be sure, is a memory dish; an attempt by West African slaves to recreate a dish from their homeland called Kusha. And today's recipes are a kind of homage to that heritage. Ms. Tipton-Martin continues, pointing out that as slaves were freed, they founded communities and opened businesses, including eating establishments where recipes were transformed by the locally available foods and trends of the day. And that's how humble cornbread was transformed into such dishes as corn pone, griddle cakes, spoonbread, corn muffins, hoecake, and hushpuppies. Today we see the fusion influences of the American Southwest and Tex-Mex foods when we include such ingredients as whole kernel corn, cheddar cheese and green chiles in our cornbread.
I've put in a request with my local library for "Jubilee: Recipes From Two Centuries of African American Cooking" and I can hardly wait to see what else I learn!
In the meantime, here's my recipe for cornbread that I based on a bread recipe on the wrapper of an old-time hot cereal named Germaid. (And yes, when I'm going to use it in stuffing I leave out the sugar, well at least most of it, and it is wonderful when made with crumbled bacon, cheddar cheese chunks and either green chiles or finely chopped jalapeno!)
Kathy's Cornbread
1 cup corn meal
1 cup flour
1/2 cup sugar
4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 egg
1 cup milk
1 cube margarine, softened
Mix together to form a stiff batter. This is enough batter for a 9" round cake pan or my favorite 9" cast iron skillet. It's also just right for 12 muffins. Bake at 400F until golden brown on top.
A while back there was a 'placed post' (aka advertisement) in my Facebook feed from The New York Times that got my attention. It was titled, The True Story Behind Your Thanksgiving Cornbread. Now I don't know about you, but I don't reserve my cornbread eating for just Thanksgiving... I like it. And I'll eat it anytime I get the chance. Always have, always will. And I've heard the whole spiel about adding sugar makes it into corn cake. Whatever! I'm Southern by adoption and I like a little bit of sweetness in mine so I'm not even entertaining that argument.
The article, though, captivated me. It took a page from a newish cookbook by Toni Tipton-Martin, "Jubilee: Recipes From Two Centuries of African American Cooking" about the roots of cornbread. In it, she shares that cornbread stuffing, a Thanksgiving staple to be sure, is a memory dish; an attempt by West African slaves to recreate a dish from their homeland called Kusha. And today's recipes are a kind of homage to that heritage. Ms. Tipton-Martin continues, pointing out that as slaves were freed, they founded communities and opened businesses, including eating establishments where recipes were transformed by the locally available foods and trends of the day. And that's how humble cornbread was transformed into such dishes as corn pone, griddle cakes, spoonbread, corn muffins, hoecake, and hushpuppies. Today we see the fusion influences of the American Southwest and Tex-Mex foods when we include such ingredients as whole kernel corn, cheddar cheese and green chiles in our cornbread.
I've put in a request with my local library for "Jubilee: Recipes From Two Centuries of African American Cooking" and I can hardly wait to see what else I learn!
 |
| Cornbread made up as muffins. |
Kathy's Cornbread
1 cup corn meal
1 cup flour
1/2 cup sugar
4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 egg
1 cup milk
1 cube margarine, softened
Mix together to form a stiff batter. This is enough batter for a 9" round cake pan or my favorite 9" cast iron skillet. It's also just right for 12 muffins. Bake at 400F until golden brown on top.
Thursday, January 23, 2020
Today's Crisis Taught Me That I'm 'Neurotic'
Today's little crisis that sent me searching through online research for ways to fix myself has, in all honesty, been building up to this moment for a long time. The most immediate trigger being tomorrow's appointment with an orthopedic specialist because I have what they call advanced degenerative arthritis in my right knee. The same right knee that I've been complaining about for more years than I can even remember. The same right knee that every previous doctor has said the only thing wrong with it is I'm too damned fat.
I don't want to be fat. I've tried endlessly not to be fat. But here we are at an utter impasse: I am still too damned fat.
And I'm not too proud to tell you about the negative effects this has on me.
More than one person has hinted they think I'm depressed. I don't think so, or, if I am I contend that sometimes depression is an appropriate response when life continually throws one to the wolves. Willing to explore the idea, though, I followed several links and ended up reading a Psychology Today article titled Four Kinds of Depression and Self-Hate that might shed some clues into what's malfunctioning inside my head. It says that in neurotic depression the conflict is internal and it's like you are moving "through life as if you are a short-tempered nanny with an ugly or annoying baby. Your depressive lens for interpreting the reactions of other people makes you want them to agree with you that the baby is an intolerable burden."
That analogy is so spot on that it made me pause and blink. More than a few times, even. But the next paragraph is the one that made me cry...
"When others treat you well, you resent it, like a nanny watching the usually inconsolable baby cooing in someone else’s arms. If a therapist suggests you treat yourself better, it enrages you, because it implies that this is your fault and not a natural reaction to the little brat you happen to be saddled with. You want the therapist to give the baby a sedative."
In another article, Psychology Today suggests cognitive behavioral therapy and practicing mindfulness may help one become less neurotic over time. And in still another, this one titled Mindfulness, they accentuate the positive aspects of living in active, open attention to the present; of observing your thoughts and feelings without judging them as either good or bad. I think they may have forgotten the big one, at least in how it all relates to me and my crisis moment: just suck it up and deal with the problem.
More about that in a moment.
I wanted to tell you about my path to these self-reflections, even they aren't altogether kind, because there's some really good material to read if you are also quietly trying to work on yourself. It all started when I clicked into a Marc and Angel article that was shared on Facebook: 20 Things to Start Doing in Your Relationships. #1 made me realize that sometimes I am that negative person I need to stop hanging out with. Then I jumped over to a linked article: 9 Things it’s Not Too Late to Start Doing for Yourself. This time it was #2 that sent me to Google 'core values' and that led me to My 2016 Integrity Report. The content is good but it's the well-explained thought process that really provides the value.
So about me being too damned fat... I made an appointment with my doctor to see what medical interventions might be available because nothing I've done on my own has helped even a little bit. Here's to whatever adventure Tuesday launches!
I don't want to be fat. I've tried endlessly not to be fat. But here we are at an utter impasse: I am still too damned fat.
And I'm not too proud to tell you about the negative effects this has on me.
- It means that every doctor I see grabs for the prescription pad. Well, ok... they rush to today's electronic version of a prescription pad. There's a pill for blood pressure. There's a pill for pain. There's a pill for depression. Sometimes it seems like there's a pill they want to prescribe just because there's a pill! And my internal psyche interprets every single one of them as further evidence that I am defective.
- It means I can never buy clothes that are cute. No one even expects it of me; I think they are just happy that I can find something to keep all the blubber covered.
- It means my job prospects are limited. Limited not just because my knee is so worn out that I can't bear to walk or stand on it for more than a few minutes at a time, but there are places my body mass can't squeeze into (not that that is all bad... most of those tight little spaces would be in fast food establishments and ewww! Lord, no!!)
- It means my recreational opportunities are limited, again not just from the crapped out knee but also because it takes a lot of huffing and puffing to even go shopping. A hike would kill me! And many activities come with weight restrictions to keep machinery functioning safely. So there are thousands of things I would love to do, but simply cannot.
- It makes me feel ugly and unattractive. I've got classes coming up that require posting videos of myself which my instructors and fellow students will watch and respond to. That's terrifying!
More than one person has hinted they think I'm depressed. I don't think so, or, if I am I contend that sometimes depression is an appropriate response when life continually throws one to the wolves. Willing to explore the idea, though, I followed several links and ended up reading a Psychology Today article titled Four Kinds of Depression and Self-Hate that might shed some clues into what's malfunctioning inside my head. It says that in neurotic depression the conflict is internal and it's like you are moving "through life as if you are a short-tempered nanny with an ugly or annoying baby. Your depressive lens for interpreting the reactions of other people makes you want them to agree with you that the baby is an intolerable burden."
That analogy is so spot on that it made me pause and blink. More than a few times, even. But the next paragraph is the one that made me cry...
"When others treat you well, you resent it, like a nanny watching the usually inconsolable baby cooing in someone else’s arms. If a therapist suggests you treat yourself better, it enrages you, because it implies that this is your fault and not a natural reaction to the little brat you happen to be saddled with. You want the therapist to give the baby a sedative."
In another article, Psychology Today suggests cognitive behavioral therapy and practicing mindfulness may help one become less neurotic over time. And in still another, this one titled Mindfulness, they accentuate the positive aspects of living in active, open attention to the present; of observing your thoughts and feelings without judging them as either good or bad. I think they may have forgotten the big one, at least in how it all relates to me and my crisis moment: just suck it up and deal with the problem.
More about that in a moment.
I wanted to tell you about my path to these self-reflections, even they aren't altogether kind, because there's some really good material to read if you are also quietly trying to work on yourself. It all started when I clicked into a Marc and Angel article that was shared on Facebook: 20 Things to Start Doing in Your Relationships. #1 made me realize that sometimes I am that negative person I need to stop hanging out with. Then I jumped over to a linked article: 9 Things it’s Not Too Late to Start Doing for Yourself. This time it was #2 that sent me to Google 'core values' and that led me to My 2016 Integrity Report. The content is good but it's the well-explained thought process that really provides the value.
So about me being too damned fat... I made an appointment with my doctor to see what medical interventions might be available because nothing I've done on my own has helped even a little bit. Here's to whatever adventure Tuesday launches!
Saturday, January 18, 2020
HLC Restaurantware
If you read about The Gawd Awful yesterday, you might have noticed the cute little platter I served myself on. I have 2 of them and they found their way into my kitchen as new-to-me pieces just a couple of days ago. I picked them up at an independent thrift store... 2 tiny platters for $1. I probably would have paid more since I'd already seen the marking on the back for the Homer Laughlin China Company but the dollar made me feel like I'd made a real thrifting score!
This purchase both thrilled and intrigued me. I wasn't quite sure yet what I'd picked up, but with that mark, I was pretty sure I couldn't go too far wrong. And besides, I need a few plates. And these are tiny and cute... And they called my name, saying "I must go home with you!"
Just to give you a sense of the size, I picked up a McDonald's straw that was handy (don't judge; I was in the car and it hasn't been cleaned out... in a while) and laid it lengthwise. The straw is just slightly longer than the platter! They truly are tiny!!
I knew the brand because I'm a small-time collector of Fiesta with dreams of having enough to set a table for 8 with all the serving pieces, too. But like I said at the beginning, I didn't really know what I'd just picked up so I asked about them in an HLC enthusiast group on Facebook. That's where a more veteran collector confirmed that it's Restaurantware, sometimes called Hospitalityware since it is sold broadly to both hotels and restaurants all around the United States. It's known for its durability. But I did have to chuckle when someone commented that they were "sturdy" and meant for daily use.
Well, I do believe in using the nice things I collect. And in-between times when it's being used on the table, I will proudly display it with my Fiesta (which I also use!) even if it is kind of like the red-headed stepchild whose Momma came from the wrong side of the tracks!
This purchase both thrilled and intrigued me. I wasn't quite sure yet what I'd picked up, but with that mark, I was pretty sure I couldn't go too far wrong. And besides, I need a few plates. And these are tiny and cute... And they called my name, saying "I must go home with you!"
Just to give you a sense of the size, I picked up a McDonald's straw that was handy (don't judge; I was in the car and it hasn't been cleaned out... in a while) and laid it lengthwise. The straw is just slightly longer than the platter! They truly are tiny!!
I knew the brand because I'm a small-time collector of Fiesta with dreams of having enough to set a table for 8 with all the serving pieces, too. But like I said at the beginning, I didn't really know what I'd just picked up so I asked about them in an HLC enthusiast group on Facebook. That's where a more veteran collector confirmed that it's Restaurantware, sometimes called Hospitalityware since it is sold broadly to both hotels and restaurants all around the United States. It's known for its durability. But I did have to chuckle when someone commented that they were "sturdy" and meant for daily use.
Well, I do believe in using the nice things I collect. And in-between times when it's being used on the table, I will proudly display it with my Fiesta (which I also use!) even if it is kind of like the red-headed stepchild whose Momma came from the wrong side of the tracks!
Friday, January 17, 2020
The Gawd Awful
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| My version of The Gawd Awful |
On the occasional Saturday morning when I lived in Salt Lake, I'd go out to breakfast at this tiny, quaint... urrrrrrr ok, you got me. It was a nasty dive bar. But they served a full breakfast-lunch-dinner menu so it didn't seem quite so bad. Catering to college student's desire for cheap food and beer, Big Ed's was right across from President's Circle at the U of U. By the time I was frequenting the joint, Ed was long gone having sold it to a very animated and often angry Asian woman and her shy and sullen son. One of their breakfast specials was a dish they named 'The Gawd Awful.' And that's usually what I ordered... a plate of cheesy hashbrowns smothered in a big scoop of chili and topped with 2 eggs, sour cream and (usually) chopped green onion. And then I settled in to watch the show.
A visit to Big Ed's was always entertaining. Another friend remembers going there with her class under the auspices that they were "studying,' i.e. talking social theory until the professor was too tipsy to speak coherently. And that's usually when someone would provoke the Asian lady and she'd start cussing and lapsing in and out of very broken English and what I think might have been Vietnamese. Soaking wet bar towels would go flying across the room making a loud thwap when they found a target, either intentional or an unfortunate casualty. At least once, I saw her use one to smack her son side of the head. And then almost as quickly as it started the whirlwind calmed and she was playing the dysfunctional mom/friend to anyone who looked like they needed a bit of motherly care or bad advice.
I'm not quite sure what brought that memory up but today I made my version of The Gawd Awful for breakfast. There's a few ingredients and steps but it's really pretty easy. Start with a large portion of crisply cooked hashbrowns. They can be shredded or the country-style cubes like I used, whatever you prefer. When they are ready and all plated up, cover with grated cheese and dip a ladle of chili con carne over the top. Next, add an egg cooked as you like. I scrambled mine (and mixed them right into the potatoes at the beginning) this time but in the cafe, I usually asked for them over medium. Finally, garnish with a dollop of sour cream and, if you like them and have some handy, a sprinkle of chopped green onion. And there you have it: The Gawd Awful in all it's dive bar glory!
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