Emerald Isle

I am packing and getting excited. In six days, I will wing my way to the Emerald Isle. My trip will fulfill the last request of my dearly departed Moose—Paul.

It had been our plan for years to go to Ireland for a vacation when he got well. He didn’t. At the end we planned his memorial service in Fremont, one in Sacramento, and the scattering of his ashes upon a park in the Bay area.  Every detail of his wishes, I kept true. The playing of Amazing Grace on the bagpipes. Rebeca singing in Spanish, How Great Thou Art! Tamera reciting the lyrics to Loreena McKennitt’s Dante's Prayer which at the moment plays softly in the background of my computer.

But his last request was to ask me carry his ashes around my neck in a silver locket and to bring the last of his ashes with me to Ireland. I am to find a pub that we would have picked had we gone there together.
 “There,” Paul said, “I would have drunk whiskey till the pub closed. So I want you to flush my ashes down the john…because you know part of me would have ended up there any way.”
Who could have turned down such a noble quest?

I take with me three princesses—my goddaughter Brandy, cousins Cindy and Carol—that loved Paul like I do. After two years, we finally carry his ashes to his ancestral homeland on his maternal side. 

We will dance, drink and sing. We will celebrate and remember the man.

Cast your eyes on the ocean

Cast your soul to the sea

When the dark night seems endless

Please remember me

    Loreena McKennitt’s Dante's Prayer

Today’s Menu:

Breakfast: Hot oatmeal and almond milk. Coffee with agave syrup and almond milk.

Snack: Home grown Fuji Apples

Lunch: Pasta, peas, marinara.

Snack:  Home grown Fuji apples

Dinner: Leftover black bean soup and sourdough bread

Snack: Chocolate covered cranberries

Eggs for Seeds

I took two pomegranates to my neighbor. We traded my jumbo fruit for two of their fresh chicken eggs harvested this morning from a backyard coop. They have had chickens years before the laws against farm animals in unincorporated Sacramento suburban homes changed to allow raising chickens. My neighborhood consists of predominately USSR immigrants that have gardens and livestock flourishing in our quarter-acre yards. Every since the blow up of the economy many homes have live fowl and gardens. It’s nice the Sacramento government finally approve of people raising their own food.

Three of the eight houses on our cul-de-sac share fruit and veg with other suburban farmers like me. I have a small orchard consisting of nine mature trees. I’ve trained the orange and tangerine to yield fruit  January through March.  You know you are living in California if you can pick a sweet orange off your tree on a crisp New Year’s Day—frost on the leaves and the sun on your back. Tartarian cherry and Bing cherry are ripe May and June.  Blueberries June. Blackberries July. Almonds August. Fuji Apples August through September. Pomegranates end the season in September and October.  My farm is blessed.

I have a black thumb for gardening mainly due to my complete lack of interest in hard work. Ask my cousin Cindy. She slaves over her tomatoes, zucchini, cukes, peppers, onions, watermelons and beans. Not to mention the work she goes through to prep the soil before and after planting. I am more than happy to take the canned vegetables she makes off her hands every fall.

I have learned herbs (which are tasty weeds) and trees are tended by the master gardener— God. I trim trees once every two years, put a hose on the roots when HE doesn’t bring rain, and pick the bounty. I love this arrangement.

Today’s Menu:

Breakfast: Hot oatmeal and almond milk. Tea Earl Grey Hot with honey.

Snack: Pomegranate Seeds

Lunch: Trader Joe’s Frozen Channa Masala (360 calories Vegetarian Gluten Free)

Snack:  Home grown Fuji apples

Dinner: Evangelism Committee meeting at Garcia’s Mexican Restaurant, Madison Avenue.  No calories in church events. Chips, salsa, Seafood enchiladas with black beans. Ice Tea

Snack: Chocolate covered cranberries

Satisfries

For you, I stopped in the Burger King next to my AFLAC office and purchased my first order of Satisfries. Actually, I ordered the vegetarian burger—no onion, no mayo, extra pickles—ice tea and a small order of Satisfries. The combo cost $5.49 plus tax and the survey receipt earns me a free sandwich in the future. Obviously, BK was looking for opinions on the latest French fry faire that has seventy less calories than their regular fries.

I am pleased with BK vegetarian combo as it is the last fast food chain to still offer the meatless patty. McDonalds and the like think that a fish sandwich is vegetarian. Flextarian yes. Vegetarian no.

Although, I don’t regularly order the fries because I don’t need the calories and more importantly the BK regular fries are not as good as McDonalds. These were good. Crinkle cut, lightly salted, with a satisfying crunch, the fry did not droop and they stayed hotter than BK regular choice. I liked the low cal Satisfries better. The patented coating does not have much potato flavor but with the amount of ketchup I use, I didn’t care.

My vegetarian fast food meal contained 590 calories—ketchup not included.

Today’s Menu:

Breakfast: Hot oatmeal with banana and almond milk.

Snack: Coffee with creamer and sugar.

Lunch: Burger King vegetarian burger—no onion, no mayo, extra pickles—ice tea and a small order of Satisfries with ketchup.

Snack:  Dark Chocolate covered raisins.

Dinner: Vegetable soup with rice cakes.

Snack: Dark Chocolate covered cranberries. Fuji Apple from my tree.

Cheese Dip

A friend from work forwarded several vegan recipes when she became aware of my culinary leanings. She included from the 7 Secrets Cookbook by Neva and Jim Brackett, a great recipe for nondairy cheese.  I made the whole recipe in less than five minutes and dipped an organic black bean chip into the hot liquid mixture. It was outstanding.  The warm soft cheese is better than the cold brick. The ingredient's flavors tend to separate in the cooler version. 

 I suggest replacing the pimentos with jalapeños or salsa to serve hot with chips. Or grate the cheese and use it on pizza hot.  Really good.

You will absolutely need the agar flakes or powder. It can be found cheaply at the local Asian market or a more pricey option is a health food store or Whole Foods. It’s also known as Chinese gelatin.

Today’s Menu:

Sliceable Cashew Cheese—7 Secrets Cookbook by Neva and Jim Brackett

This recipe doubles for two kinds of cheese-like slices – yellow or white.  They can even be shredded!

2 cups water

3 Tbsp agar flakes (or 3 tsp agar powder)

1 cup raw cashew nuts

2 Tbsp pimentos or ½ bell pepper or jalapeños or salsa

1 Tbsp lemon juice

1 Tbsp food yeast flakes

1 ½ tsp salt

½ tsp onion powder

¼ tsp garlic powder

1. Boil together the agar and water for 1-2 minutes.  Place in blender with all the remaining ingredients and blend for 1-2 minutes until very smooth.

2. Pour into containers and chill.  Slice when firm.

Hint:  This recipe makes a yellow cheese.  Leave out the pimentos for white cheese.  It may be frozen – shreds best when partially frozen.  Makes a great topping for pizza or lasagna because it melts when heated.  Keep white and yellow cheese (whole and shredded) on hand in the freezer – for quick, nice looking toasted cheese melts.

Makes 2 cups. About 165 calories/12% saturated fat per 1 ounce slice. (Real Cheddar cheese has 116 calories/30% saturated fat.)

Chapter 3

I have spent most of the day trying decide if I should post a chapter from my pending book or if yes which chapter. Several of you have asked to see the book. My every intention is to publish it on the web when completed sometime in 2014.I received enough warm-fuzzies—as  Momma calls them—from the VIP luncheon attendees last Sunday that I feel brave enough to share. 

While emboldened, I present: 

Steps: A Travel Log of Our Life

Chapter 3 Steps to Turn Three

***

Michael loved watching car races. He talked endlessly about NASCAR, Indy-cars, and drivers that mostly bank left.

My friend worked at Sears Point Raceway. Cathy offered me a part-time cashier position for five bucks an hour with two sets of racing tickets that covered the entire weekend, an overnight pass for camping, plus a special press pit pass. The ticket packages were valued at $150 per person—a lot of money a few of decades ago. I couldn't think of a better gift for my true love so I took the offer not just for that weekend but for the full racing season.

At the time, I managed a computer retail store—one of a handful in the Silicon Valley. Working as an entry level clerk in a gift shop—one weekend a month, six hours a day—proved to be a vacation for me. I had no responsibilities, received a break every two hours to watch the races, and I met celebrity after celebrity—from Michael Andretti to Paul Newman.

My Michael wandered anywhere he pleased in Sears Point from the track to the pits. He shot fifteen rolls of 35MM film on his Nikon with telephoto lenses—the first day. Cars crashed in front of his shutter. Racing fuel filled his lungs. The man could not have been happier. He told me so.

"Debra," he said, "I couldn't be happier."

After my shift, 8:00 A.M. to 2:00 P.M., we met up at the knoll above Turn Three. A great tailgater—fifty or so cars and trucks—already in progress, hugged the edges of the racetrack. I could smell the hamburgers charring on the grills. Michael had a remote-controlled Indy-car zipping across the dirt. Other thirty-something men joined in the festivities with their own battery-operated toys. As the actual race cars finished the qualifying rounds, our small hill hosted a series of racing heats between the finest toy vehicles purchased at Radio Shack and Fry’s Electronics. Michael’s blue entry made second place more than once but never winning a heat. I could tell he was disappointed by the performance.

As the light dimmed before dusk, I pulled out the kites—Michael’s dragon and my butterfly.  The only campers to have kites flying above Sears Point, we spent a leisurely hour hanging on the strings and watching the pink-orange sunset behind our kites.

By dark, clouds blew in from the bay and we scrambled to put up the tent in between sporadic rain drops. Giggling, Michael and I tossed in the sleeping bags, kicked off muddy shoes, and zipped ourselves into the nylon igloo. The intermittent patter became a constant flow of rain. Neither of us wanted to venture out and stake down the tent. We snuggled instead.

The morning light brightened the tent like a glow-stick.  “Do you hear that?” I said digging my way out of the sleeping bag.

“What?” Michael mumbled.

Eeeerooommm!

“That.”

Michael sat up. His hair tousled, dark curls covering his forehead.  “It’s the cars.” He pulled himself to his knees looking down at me. “They are taking practice runs.”

“… sounds close.”

“Yay.”

I unzipped the sleeping bag and sat up. The plastic bottom of the igloo-shaped tent loomed over head. “Hey. Where’s the opening? I got to go to the bathroom.”

Michael’s head whipped around. “Don’t know.”

 “Should have staked the tent.”

He crawled around me, touching along the seams of the nylon tent. I dug around the bottom underneath sleeping bags.

Eeeerooommm! The sound blasted past my shoulder.  “Sounds closer.”

“Found it!” Michael pulled up on the zipper located at my feet and continued to unzip above our heads where the bottom of the tent was now located. He climbed out of the space into the light, letting out a sound that can only be described as a war-whoop. “Debra, get out here now!”

Scrambling out the opening, Michael pulled me to my feet and pushed me toward the bushes. We stood on the track of Sears Point’s Turn Three. A crowd edged the safety fence and cheered us or the passing Indy-car. I’m not sure which. Grabbing the edge of our tent, Michael pulled it close to us as not to obstruct the Indy-car sporting bright-blue coloring and Firestone logo whizzing past.

How we managed to roll down the hill over the low fence onto the track while sleeping, heaven only knows. How we kept from getting killed was also a mystery. The mud caked tent held evidence of the event. We had no memory.

We scaled the bent fence, schlepping through the mud in stocking feet to safety amidst snickers and cat-calls of our fellow campers. I thanked God that we slept fully clothed. 

***

Today’s Menu:

Breakfast: Watermelon juiced. Coffee with agave syrup and almond milk.

Snack: Oatmeal with almond milk.

Lunch: Vegetable soup. 

Snack:  Godiva Chocolate Bites.

Dinner: Taco Bell Bean Burrito.

Snack: Rice Cakes.

It's Not The Chocolate

It’s NOT chocolate, not HoHo, not fried chicken, and not Häagen-Dazs. And it’s not lack of exercise either. Yay! Party time. What am I talking about? Weight gain of course.

Buzzing through the internet is research linking our civilizing the night time with electric light and weight gain in mice.  

“…article published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences they found that mice exposed to dim light during their sleeping hours for a period of eight weeks had a 50% higher weight gain compared to mice that slept in the dark.” http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/204236.php

Think about it. When was the last time you slept in a dark house? My night stand is cluttered with plugged in and glowing iType products. The bath has a night light. My bedroom curtains do not block the street lights or a full moon.  Lights come off of the wireless gadgets, the cable box, digital clocks, and automatic coffee maker. Let’s count the four solar powered security lights the cover the four corners of the house. Other than the closets, my house is lit. 

I remember driving with my husband from the Twin Cities airport to Fargo on vacation to visit my aunt. The highway is a straight shot through open farm land dotted with lakes. We had left the car rental at dusk and drove for three hours in the dark with few street lights or traffic. Dark. Suddenly, to my squinting eyes I saw metal barns lit as bright as spotlights.

“What the heck?”

“Oh,” stated my husband, a man full of facts, “Turkey farms. They keep the lights on until midnight until Thanksgiving. The turkeys eat more in the long days.”

I just thought of this trip. Why wouldn’t the same logic apply to people? My grandparents would not have had a midnight snack or a 9:00 P.M. snack either. Why not? Because they were in bed.  Early to bed early to rise…something…something.

So keep eating chocolate or whatever is your passion, click off the breaker, and sleep.

Today’s Menu:

Breakfast: ½ c Raisin Bran w/almond milk.  Coffee with agave syrup and almond milk.

Snack: None.

Lunch: Veggie Burger, Fries, and Ginger Ale from Burger King (770 calories).

Snack:  Pear, Mango, and a small Fuji Apple picked from my tree.

Dinner: Small Salad.

Snack: Peanut butter.

My weight is...

I have been careful not to really discuss my diet these last few weeks. Partly I didn’t want to sabotage myself also I still hate to use the word Cancer. When I started this blog, I weighed over 265 pounds. That is the weight of 6’4” San Francisco 49er Tight End, Vance McDonald—to put things in perspective.  I fasted, raw-vegan-ed, juiced, and walked. In one year I dropped below 210.

Perhaps I would have hit my goal of 185 which happens to be 5’10” SF Giant Pitcher, Sergio Romo if not for the complete immersion into my mortality.  The best diet in the world will not stop destruction of prolonged years of stress.

My first indicator was a stress related heart attack a month before my husband’s death. Test showed no heart disease thanks to my healthy diet. But the stress took its toll.

After the passing of Paul, I ran off to Taiwan to mend. The month overseas helped me find my smile and reduce my fits of crying. Once I returned the world of work and bills, life piled up on a fairly battered ego. I found a lump in my left breast eleven months after my heart attack. My job ended. I returned to my home to deal with the cancer treatments that are brutally administered to kill the mutant cells.  The doctors pulled me off of the raw vegan to prevent bacteria entering my body and placed me on cooked comfort foods. 

My weight jumped from 208 to 247 in less than four months. Between surgery, chemo, and radiation, I could not stay awake longer than four hours, my left arm could not move higher than my shoulder, and I had less hair than Bruce Willis.  Chocolate, my best friend.

I found a new job. New responsibilities within my church and interests. In May, I started to reclaim my diet and my body. 

My biggest challenge was not my diet but my belief. After Paul’s untimely death, my heart attack, and subsequent cancer, I no longer thought about the future. The future held nasty possibilities—strokes, more cancer, if not cancer more tests for cancer, more discussions about cancers, death, dying, mortality, the end.  Wow. Heavy.

I did what I needed to do. I went to Neptune Society, paid for my funeral, and moved on with my life. ONE DAY AT A TIME.

Today’s Menu:

Breakfast: ½ c Raisin Bran w/almond milk.  Coffee with agave syrup and almond milk.

Snack: Blueberry Bagel at regional meeting. No cream cheese or butter.

Lunch: Veggie Sushi, Seaweed Salad, and wait for it…apple strudel… bad, delicious but bad.

Snack:  Cantaloupe.

Dinner: 2 Fig Newton cookies at church bible study.

Snack: Carrots.