Dog Days

We are dog people.

We have, over the years, had quite a few pets, but there has pretty much always always been at least one dog. We also have a parrot, but he is more like a tiny alien who must be appeased than an actual pet.

Over the last year or so, I started to "borrow trouble". Particularly once spring hit, and I realized Bosco, our beloved 90 88 lb. pound puppy, had turned the big 1-0. Everything I have read, about "big dogs not living that long" started to haunt me. Veteran that I am of many pet dogs, I have done the "mourning a deceased pet" thing, and while I was heartbroken and bereaved, would never have considered cloning a pet- Until this big guy.

 He is widely considered to be The Best Dog, even by people who are NOT dog people. He's not an indiscriminate licker, he's not a leg humper, he loves everyone, he has a calm demeanor but loves to play fetch and chase his tail for comedic effect, he responds to commands AND hand signals, he's highly intelligent, he heels automatically when on walks, he eats his vegetables, he plays gently with visiting children. If he has faults, it's that he DOES shed like a Wookie, he doesn't like to be left alone, and he loves to raid the garbage. So we bought a Furminator and a trash can with a lid that closes. Separation anxiety has luckily dissipated over the years.

A few years ago, buying treats at the pet store, I saw a tiny version of Bosco in a cage- she belonged to a rescue organization. Same markings, like a jaunty fluffy tuxedo. She was shivering. She needed a home. Bosco needed someone to keep him company and to play with. And after much begging and pleading and promises that we both knew I didn't intend to keep, Moxie came home with us.

Moxie is a WHOLE different kettle of fish. She is a stereotypical small dog- at least I think she is, she is the only one I have ever had. She came to us with a serious attitude, a dislike of being outside, other dogs, being brushed or generally interfered with in any way, and a kindergartener's sense of waiting until the dire last minute before going out to take care of business. While she tolerated Bosco, she preferred lurking under the bed like Grendel to playing fetch. But Bosco loved her anyway, and we grew to love her too, quirks and all.

After the realization that Bosco was getting older, we finally were back in the house and had access to a large backyard, and I started thinking about how great it would be to get a puppy. I had something specific in mind: more a personality thing than an appearance thing.  And I guess it happened organically: friends invited us over for a BBQ, they happened to have a puppy they needed a home for, and she spent the evening alternating between sleeping on my lap and SG's. A week later, we took her home. I know, we're suckers. 

The first thing we noticed: lots of burping. And farting. For such a dainty little girl, she certainly wasn't shy about bodily functions. And unfortunately, we had named her Sassy, so "Gassy Sassy" wasn't much of a stretch! And she was so....quiet. Almost eerily so. While the vet had given her a clean bill of health, and said she was an "old soul", there was a certain puppy mischievousness that just wasn't there.

She was eating specific puppy food (it came with her) but was much more interested in our dogs' grain-free kibble than her own, so we just stopped putting out the puppy food. After a week or two of gorging, she seems to be slowing down- and somewhat miraculously, the sound effects have all but disappeared too! She's also regained her puppy curiosity and energy and is growing like a weed- she's tripled in size over the last month, and is living up to her name and giving Bosco a run for his money. We try to get them both outside before it gets too hot,  and they spend as much time as they can wrestling and playing tug-o-war in the backyard. Bosco is having a blast, and is very sweet and patient with her. In fact, both dogs love to play with Sassy- it took Moxie awhile to come around, but now all three of them get along. It does my heart good to see it. I know Bosco doesn't have a huge amount of time left, and I am determined to make sure all three of them are as healthy and happy as possible. 

Which brings me to today: the vet visit for the two older dogs. Our new vet was mightily impressed by how healthy they both are.  They have both lost some weight (probably all the wrestling) and are going strong. She specifically mentioned their shiny eyes and coats, and the health of their teeth- How often did we brush their teeth? When I said we don't brush, she was amazed. I guess little dogs in particular are prone to tartar, and neither of them needed any dental work. I honestly didn't realize until I was driving home that it probably has a lot to do with the grain-free diet we feed them. Food for thought!

In the belly of the Death Star

I have been a bad blogger. 

I’ve basically been in survival mode for so long, any kind of additional contact with the outside world has been enough to send me into a tailspin. In the last four months, I’ve dealt with a move, the realization that we were going to move before my husband got a job, the prospect of both of us moving back in with my parents temporarily until the renters vacated our house- and then getting the house back, and realizing that the renters had trashed it, so we would be having to do massive reno to it (out of our savings, with no money coming in, and no sure way of getting money from the renters, OMG OMG we’re all gonna die)before we could get back into it. On top of that, illness, catch-as-catch- can eating, emotional, hormonal and medical nightmares, (I’ll spare you) seemingly infinite amounts of what can only be called bad luck, and crazy-insane amounts of stress. 

It was like the world’s most depressing, lengthy Russian novel- a forced march to the end, and it was my life. It seemed like every day, there was a lower level to be reached on my personal Downward Spiral of Doom.  I couldn’t deal with anything that wasn’t absolutely essential to day-to-day survival. And telling people what I was going through made my heart quail within me. I am not good at asking for help. I am usually that person who is there for others. I despise being needy or flaky, and for awhile there, I was both.  

 My husband, who is usually my rock, was in survival mode right along with me, going through all the same stuff. Discussing the status quo sparked huge, horrible arguments, and toward the end, it had been like being in the garbage bay in the belly of The Death Star- That scene where there’s something with tentacles under the water, AND the walls are closing in, except we were too paralyzed to do anything about it. The thought of writing about this process, day by day, was mind-numbing. Who wants to read about this crap? We were obviously cursed. There was nothing to do but get eaten or drowned or crushed quietly. 

But then, you know, the sun came out. We managed to make some progress on the house- found the world’s most awesome and reasonably priced contractor. We are going to end up doing a lot of the work ourselves, but that’s the only way it can get done, so we are doing it. We scraped the “cottage cheese” off the ceilings and are capable of painting and taping drywall and installing laminate and stuff like that, and hey, we have the time. We will finally have something close to the house we envisioned when we moved into it 10 years ago. So I suppose (and hope) that what was initially a horrible situation has turned out to be a bit of a blessing in disguise, in the form of giving us some much needed opportunities to attain some forward momentum. 

Accepting and admitting that the last few months have been a nightmare is oddly, one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I want to own these trials and tribulations, and make them something that I chose, or the result of crappy decisions I made. The reality is, in some cases, this is true. But the worst of it is just a shining example of “sometimes crappy things happen to good people”.  I have to stop beating myself up over feeling sorry for myself, because it’s completely counter-productive.  I feel like it’s a story I read: something that happened to somebody else.  

 I finally put it all together for a few of my closest friends. I could only bring myself to talk about it if I didn’t make eye contact with anyone, because if I saw the sympathetic expression on anybody’s face, I would totally have lost it. Of course, they were furious with me, for not asking for help while I fought a crazy three/four front war. They’ve all volunteered to come help us paint.  And as horrible as it was to convey what we were going through, I feel like it was a crucial step in helping me to move past it. 

SG and I got up early and went for a walk yesterday AM with the doggies. (I’ve got the sunburn to prove it! Holy crap, I have turned into Dracula.) And slowly but surely, we are adapting. Cooking in someone else’s kitchen is not easy, but I am getting the hang of it. My father, a noted squash-hater of many, many years, agreed to try my spaghetti squash with bison and vodka sauce last night. He ended up eating a big bowlful of it, and pronounced it “delicious”. I am so proud!

At the bottom of it all, I am lucky. I have incredibly supportive family, parents, and in-laws. Having friends again since I moved back home makes my heart light up with joy. I missed the friendliness of my hometown so very much. SG has several job interviews coming up, after months of applying for jobs and never getting so much as a call back. I am finally able to have a productive day that doesn’t involve a nervous breakdown. I know we are on the brink of something- if there’s anything to karma, it’s something good. Fingers crossed.  

Okey dokey!

Well...we finally have some closure. The house inspection was today. We met up with both the property manager and the insurance adjuster. Going through the cabinets, we found a bracket for an industrial fire extinguisher, as well as extreme heat damage under all the stove burners. Further indication that our house was being used for a catering business, which violated the terms of the lease.

I feel like I am coming out of my post-holiday funk: Finally! SG keeps talking about joining a gym. Believe it or not, after 4 years away, our old gym membership is still "holding", so we may just see if they can cut us a deal for us to reactivate. Gym visits would add a lot of much-needed structure to our days here, while everything gets straightened out.

SG has been feeling "off." I suspect the culprits are the appetizer meatballs leftover from the party. His face is puffed up, and he has bags under his eyes and is sniffling. I have only had one or two, and I am a little off, but not struggling as much as he is. It's time to start tightening things back up again. I can tell there's a definite difference in how we feel: just sluggish and tired. (Of course, some of that might be stress, but food isn't helping!)

We went out to dinner last night, and my Mother-In-Law asked if there was a Paleo cookbook I would recommend. So we dropped off our copy of Practical Paleo for her to look at today: something I am very excited about!

I am also getting ready to look out in the freezer at the meat we brought with us. I need to start cooking- I miss it. I can't keep making the excuse that we are in someone else's kitchen. So it looks like we will be getting back on track as much as possible soon. I can't wait. 

Motivation, or lack thereof

I feel like I am the only person not jumping on some kind of new diet or detox bandwagon today.

Part of it is that I am still dealing with a borrowed kitchen, and considering the house situation, will probably be doing that for at least another month. And part of it is, unfortunately, that my parents have a huge New Year's party every year, and as we are staying with them, there are a metric ton of party leftovers. Gluten is simply not happening, but there are a ton of chicken wings and meatballs, which I would typically be dubious of: and I just can't bring myself to know or care what's in them. Fruit. Sushi from a Costco Tray- and dolmas with actual rice inside.

I have to go shopping, but there is zero room in the fridge. I am trying to convince myself that it could be a million times worse: I am not shoveling down the pies and chocolates and banana bread. But oh man, I miss having my own space.

Tomorrow, SG applies for a job he's spent a long time waiting for. Fingers and toes crossed! I am hoping that karma kicks in.

In the meantime, we are putting our lives back together, starting with the house. Hopefully, once I start renovating that, maybe I can renovate my eating habits! We contacted our homeowner's insurance for an inspection, and were advised that what happened to us should be filed under "vandalism."

The opinion of the property manager and the cleaning team that did our estimate is that the renters were running a full-scale catering business out of our tiny residential kitchen. Which is, of course, against the terms of the lease: breakage of the appliances due to misuse should have been on them, but of course, how would we have known? So we paid for all those replacements and repairs, and are dealing with the aftermath as well. I am hoping we can get at least some of the money back, plus more to repair the additional damage. We are currently living on savings until SG gets a job, so this is basically the worst possible time to do an overhaul like this. We are both doing our best to stay positive. DON'T PANIC should be written in large, friendly letters on my forehead.

Today we went and started pricing appliances. Countertops. Cabinets. So we will be prepared. I have sticker shock. SG is a lot more lavish than I am, I know I can get by with a lot of sweat equity and minimal upgrades- and at least I will be busy! I have time to paint and clean and rip out carpet and scrape ceilings. At least I would feel like I am accomplishing something! SG keeps talking about contractors. (Note: SG is insane. Lovable, but completely unreasonable.)  ;)

We meet with the property manager tomorrow, to compare notes and lists of all the damage. The inspection is Friday. I am hoping most of this is covered, one way or another. I am also hoping to get out and move- get some real exercise. We have been doing lots of walking- the ambling kind, looking at slabs of stone and wandering through home improvement warehouses and lumberyards- but that's not doing it. Perhaps tomorrow I will take the new bike out for a spin. I got lovely new baskets- front and back!- as well as a helmet and lights for Christmas. All that awesomeness should definitely not stay cooped up in a garage for long!

So, guess what one of my resolutions was?

I seriously would like to kick 2012 in the nuts.  Man, do I love writing, and I missed it so, but for a long time there, there was just not ONE POSITIVE THING going on in my life. I mean: my marriage is good. Paleo eating could have been better- also a heck of a lot worse, but it's always a positive. But man oh man, that feeling: it was kind of like starring in my own personal Hunger Games/Truman show. "How much can one woman take? Tune in next week for the plague of locusts!

And I am glad I am through it. My husband got out of a horrible business situation, we moved, a lot of loose ends got tied up, a lot of decisions got made. The end result is that things are better, and we are moving forward.

The bad news is that there was an extended period of time where both SG and I were in what we call "survival mode". It took everything we had just to get up and face our hellish, every day reality. Time spend with each other was on auto pilot- there was a lot of mindless time on the TV. If we were computers, as soon as we got done with whatever tasks we had, we would have basically been on screensaver mode.  

I decided that 2013 would be my "lucky 13"- a year of change and the fruition of goals we have been working on for years now. A lot of pain and sacrifice has gone into getting here. Considering that the last day of 2012 involved two big poop sandwiches: one was a health scare with someone dear to me (everyone is OK, it was just terrifying at the time!) and then the news that the renters had moved out of our house early.

Initially, we were thrilled, and then we saw it. I wasn't really a fan of the place, but we put a lot of TLC and love into it- landscaping, stripping wallpaper, painting.  We knew we would need to replace the cheap carpets and paint before we moved back into it. The property management company had given us some forewarning, but still: it was FILTHY. It smells like mildew and grease in there, and there's splatters all over the kitchen, and kid scribblings on every flat surface everywhere else. Our feet stuck to the kitchen floor, and tiles are missing in spots. The cabinets are warped, drawers are broken. Water damage in both bathrooms. I tried to open the fireplace surround, it was filled with cobwebs, and the door came off in my hand. The stove and range we paid top dollar to replace a year ago has all the enamel scraped off the top of it, around the burners. The dishwasher has a vertical crack in the door.  It is, to put it bluntly, a mess.

So we are making lemons out of lemonade: fixing what can be fixed, replacing what can't be, and moving forward. 

Birthday Musings and Fruit Pizza!

My birthday is coming up, and EVERY YEAR, it is a battle. My family associates my birthday with Thanksgiving, and as such, my birthday cake was always a much-beloved part of the festivities.

Traditionally, the birthday cake was always the same. "Champagne Dream Cake", from Eddie's Bakery. It totally looks like something a six-year-old stripper would want to jump out of (and then face-plant into).  But it was cloaked in whipped cream, with light frothy cake and a dense custard filling. And then crowned with white chocolate curls (dyed pink) and icing birthday decor on top of that. It was delicious. There are pictures of me smashing a tiny version, the year I turned one. As I got a little older, it became more and more inappropriate, but the dream cake tradition soldiered on. The year I turned 21, there were blobby buttercream pink elephants celebrating on top with plastic champagne bottles, amid the curls of chocolate.

Three years ago, I asked that they please respect my wishes, and not get dream cake, and it was like someone had died. We got a dense, gluten-free chocolate torte from Whole Foods. We all ate one obligatory slice apiece, and then it sat there, unloved, the rest of the holiday weekend.

This year, the big day is actually ON Thanksgiving. Mom called, and started asking about gluten-free cakes. I asked her to please not worry about it, I would make my own, and she started talking about all the wonderful gluten-free flours on the market, and bakeries that are out there. I stubbornly insisted that I would prefer to make my own cake. Like last year.

Yeah. Last year, I used a coconut flour recipe. It was beautifully decorated, and it was good, but eating it was like eating a log. Heavy doesn't even begin to describe it.

So I heard the worry in my mother's voice when I said I was going to do this again.

I decided to go in another direction. Another of my favorite desserts was always fruit pizza, and it seemed like a great compromise, if not exactly cake. So I have been looking around for organic, seasonal fruit, and scouring blogs for recipes that looked good.

The result?

I used a sweetened coconut flour base, cream cheese frosting, and a lightly sweetened glaze on top. I am really excited, and proud of the way it came out. It's a fairly complicated, multi-step recipe, but all the actual techniques are really simple. If you want to use a small round pizza pan, you can cut these recipes all in half. (Or make two!)

Here's the scoop:

Crust: (Adapted from The Coconut Mama's Coconut Flour Pie Crust Recipe)

Ingredients-
1 c. salted butter, melted (preferably Kerrygold or similar)
2 Eggs
1/4 Tsp. Sea Salt
1.5 Cup Coconut Flour
2 TB Maple syrup

Instructions-
1)Preheat oven to 400 degrees. In a medium bowl beat everything EXCEPT coconut flour together with a fork. Gradually incorporate coconut flour.

2)Gather the dough into a ball, then pat evenly onto a standard cookie sheet. Use a fork to make a fluted pattern around the edges of the pan. While you have your fork, prick 6-8 holes in the flattened dough, just for kicks.

3) Bake 9 minutes. Remove, allow to cool.

While crust is baking, make the Cream Cheese Frosting (Adapted from Elana's Pantry.)

Cream Cheese Frosting

Ingredients-
¾ c. heavy cream
1 package cream cheese (it helps to have this in a warm spot for an hour beforehand, it makes mixing much easier)
¼ c. Maple syrup
1 Tb.vanilla extract

  
Instructions-
1) Mix all ingredients together in a large bowl. I used a hand blender.

2) Throw it in the fridge to cool.

If you really want to get fancy, you can use a glaze. This is helpful if you aren't going to eat your creation right away, and it gives everything a beautiful, finished "sheen". The one I used is simple: just three ingredients.

Fruit Pizza Glaze

Ingredients-
1/2 c. water.
2 tsp. arrowroot powder
1 Tb maple syrup

Instructions-
1) Pour water into your teeniest saucepan, and bring to a boil.

2)Mix arrowroot and maple syrup together in a smallish bowl until arrowroot is completely incorporated.

3)Pour boiling water into arrowroot mixture. Stir until all combined. Allow to cool.

While everything is cooling, you have time to prep your fruit. I used raspberries, satsumas (seedless) strawberries, kiwi fruit, and pomegranate seeds. I wanted blueberries, but couldn't find organic. If you want to use fruits that brown (like apples, pears, bananas) you will probably want to use lemon juice on them first. I avoided that, because this is already a little complicated!

Wash, stem and peel anything that needs it. Slice your fruit- a mandoline helps, but I did it all by hand. This will probably take awhile.

OK! Last part! This is where it all comes together.

1) Apply Cream Cheese Frosting to cooled crust layer. The best technique seems to be to put a glop in the middle, then push it outwards, being careful not to cover the pretty fluting at the edges.

2) Arrange fruit slices on top of cream cheese frosting. You can use as much or as little as you want: I just tried not to put similar colors next to each other, overlapped a little,and did concentric squares-starting at the outside and moving in, to keep things fairly even.

3)Apply your glaze, using a brush- I used a silicone basting brush, it went well. Then I sprinkled some pomegranate seeds on top to make it look a little more carefree.

Into the fridge with that beast! And may the Force be with you.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Love,

Lady Grok 

What rhymes with Turkey? Murky...jerky...Albuquerque...

I have been thinking. About turkeys.

Part of that is seasonal: it has been on my mind, as Tara Firma Farms has been sending me notes about reserving one of their pastured turkeys for Thanksgiving. As someone who usually goes to a residence where the turkey is provided, buying a turkey is not something I usually think about.

To be honest, the last time I "bought" a turkey, I don't even know if it counts. I was in college, and Nugget Markets offered Turkey Bucks with your purchases. My roomies and I all pooled our bucks, and I think we ended up "earning" two 20 lb. behemoths. Gobble gobble!

So in my previous life, turkey has always been free. Per my meat CSA, a pastured bird was a $50 deposit, plus more if we ended up with a serious fatty. And the way my family traditionally cooks turkey, it would end up submerged in peanut oil, which seemed- unfortunate- and then stuffed with a grain-based stuffing. Their house, their rules. Plus, I am not a "turkey fan", really. So I didn't rationalize pulling the trigger.

But: I started reading "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle", and her chapter about turkeys brought me up short.

Evidently, 99% of modern turkeys bred for meat are all the same variety. They are known for being amazingly stupid, and they have been bred for docility and a tendency to put on massive amounts of weight, particularly around the breast region (woo woo!) and to do it all with corn and soy meal.

Evidently, they are so large and docile, they will not have sex, and must be artificially inseminated.This is especially important because they can't survive much more than a year anyway: much beyond that, they get so heavy, that their legs will be unable to support their own weight.

I was reading this to SG in a tone of righteous outrage, and evidently, he has been there, done that. "It was on 'Dirty Jobs'!" he chuckled. "Turkey sperm collector was one of the dirty jobs." Holy crap!!!

If that's not a macabre portrait of what's happening to America, I don't know what is. To the government, and the people who control our food, we are the turkeys.

These animals have been bred for this, generation after generation. It really disturbs me that we are eating a bird that is so highly specialized and inbred, it can't survive or reproduce on its own. It reminds me of the "Chickie Nobs" from Oryx and Crake: (another amazing book, if you haven't read it).

  Compare this with the wild turkeys I see around here. They are smart enough to avoid being hit by cars or eaten by coyotes or vagrant Labradoodles: and smart enough to be considered aggressive when threatened. (The ones in my backyard are also smart enough to live in Marin County, where people wouldn't dream of quietly shooting them in the tailfeathers and serving them up as dinner- except for bloodthirsty little old me.)

The turkeys you see in every Thanksgiving illustration: the vivid wattle, and variegated plumage- right? Sadly, that's not what is on the table, minus feathers, head, and other sundry accoutrements.

These are the turkeys 99% of us eat at Thanksgiving.

The video below will give you even more incentive to try to locate a wild or pastured turkey- if only to protect the nice lady at your local news affiliate. Suddenly, I am realizing where they got the inspiration for the velociraptors in Jurassic Park.

Food for thought. I'll be calling to place my order tomorrow. 

I'm Down With O.P.P. (Other People's Paleo)

In a strange twist of fate, the journey back to the hometown was an interesting reflection of what has changed since we left.

Both of us, for example.

While I didn't magically get skinny, I am slimmer than I was- with a lot less effort. Even being bludgeoned by hormones and a little puffy, I am way ahead of where I used to be. I never in a million years thought I would ever get a compliment on my skin, and now I get them all the time. I put the scale away for the duration of my current medical stuff: back in the day, this would be a recipe for disaster and I would just keep gaining, unchecked.

SG has recently dropped quite a bit of weight, as he has gotten more serious about cutting out grains, period. The shorts that he's had for years are falling off him without a belt. Just today, I noticed he was wearing a sweater I bought him for Christmas- a sweater that he previously admitted he didn't like to wear because of its tendency to hug around the belly region. It now doesn't have very much left to hug. He also commented that (of all things) he thinks his fingernails are thicker. But the thing he is most impressed with is the demise of his seasonal allergies. Snoring has been cut in half, and the constant sneezing and nose blowing and swollen, teary, puffy eyes haven't made their appearance in months- and this is the worst time of the year for it.

So of course, going home- there are lots of good friends who aren't happy with their weight. They have skin problems, stomach problems, allergies that make them miserable. My dad has a sinus infection, which he blames on "cotton defoliants".  I used to use that excuse too.

This is where I also say that Practical Paleo should be paying me commission! I am so humbled and touched by how many of my buddies have bought the book. Believe me when I say, I am thrilled that you had the faith in me to buy it and read it- I honestly believe in what I am doing, and it's my desire to help others the way I have been helped that prompted me to start blogging on the regular (for me). Chucking out half your pantry and changing everything can come later. Some of you have, and some of you haven't, and that is cool with me.

There are some hardcore people out there- people who get out the Paleo Taser for any kind of dairy product, for any kind of starchy tuber. I am not one of those people. I made those changes on my own- and with more of a Primal outlook towards things. I believe that different people need different nutrients. I believe that a 100% Dorito diet would make 99% of people sick 99% of the time. Some people have no problem with tubers or dairy, and to find out if that person is you, then you have to decide what your goals are, and then you have to fiddle.

For some people, I am sure the answer is a lot more cut and dried than it is for me. I've watched my hubby do a version of Paleo that is a lot less strict than the way I eat. He loses weight- I maintain. We are all different, and it really is all about deciding what works for you.  

The reason I say this- it is SO hard to see people struggling- particularly when you have been there, and if you (like me) are still at a point when wearing an "I heart bacon" t-shirt may draw snarky comments from passers-by. The yardstick we measure health by in this country is the ability to maintain a "healthy" weight.  So I have always hesitated. I mean, what do I know? Just that I feel like a completely different person, but that doesn't necessarily prove anything.

But now, I have SG. And he is over the moon about how much better he looks and feels- and he wants to tell the world, and has developed quite the evangelical fervor.

Now, at the bottom of this- what woman doesn't want her husband to repeatedly trumpet that her crazy "hippie" ideas were right all along? That he feels amazing, and everyone should do this? Yeah, OK, you got me. I am thrilled that he feels this way, particularly after watching him sheepishly empty the bread basket all by himself for my first year of Primal eating. I never thought we'd get here!

But now, I am out there. Flying under the radar is no longer possible, and I have to open myself up to some conflict, because while my husband is an enthusiastic convert, when it comes to anything sciencey, he's not the one who did the legwork, read the blogs and the books, does the shopping, and cooks the meals. That would be me. So he basically opens the can of worms, and then I need to get all the worms lined up in some kind of sane and well-adjusted manner, and maybe make them do the Macarena.

Which leads me to having uncomfortable conversations about gluten at Macaroni Grill after 1/2 our party of four has ordered the pasta alfredo bowl.  I try to be careful. The changes I am talking about are minor to me, but represent Enormous Life Changes to most people. Food is an intensely personal choice. I freely admit that I initially went cold turkey off grains, then gradually tapered off sugar, then most dairy, over a period of years.  If someone has already had to eradicate stuff, because they are sensitive to nightshades (yes T. I am looking at you!) I totally understand why they wouldn't want to limit themselves further. It's something you have to be ready to do, and I get it, and appreciate that you're thinking about it. At the other end of the spectrum are people rating FastPaleo's app at one star because some of the recipes (maybe 1%?) contain white potatoes. Or acting like consuming butter will get your Caveman Card revoked.

My Paleo: I err on the side of Primal. The most sustainable meats I can afford. Omega 3 enriched, cage free organic eggs from Trader Joe's. Nuts as a garnish. Organic, seasonally appropriate fruits and veggies. Sweet potatoes, and I admit, white potatoes- once I figured out that cutting out tubers did nothing for me weight-wise, why not? Dark chocolate. Stevia in my tea. Approved Paleo sweeteners in moderation (special occasion desserts).  And yes, dairy: cheese and butter- I have no reaction to these. Greek Yogurt once in a blue moon- it makes my throat a little tingly, but I love it.

What's YOUR Paleo?

The Status Quo

SG and I spent another weekend away- back to the old hometown. I don't know if I mentioned this- SG put in his notice at his job earlier this year, for a lot of complicated reasons. We've been in Marin for four years, and I think we are both more than ready to leave. He still hasn't entirely committed to going back "home" and despite the fact that we still have a house (and family, and friends) there, the big drawback is that our hometown has been hit hard by this recession, and getting a foot in the door in the job market is going to be tricky.

We only have a little more than three months left, and I am doing my best not to panic. We took down a load of stuff to add to storage, spent a lot of time with his parents, saw some fantastic friends we hadn't seen in forever, and I feel like we ran around non-stop all weekend. Part of this is me: lobbying. I am the "social one". I want to move back. To me, it makes sense to show SG: "See?! We fit in! We would be close to family! The restaurants are amazing! All these friends that we used to spend time with would love it if we returned!"(I never claimed to be a subtle woman. ;)

 The San Joaquin Valley, and specifically Fresno- where both my husband and I grew up- have problems. Major crime, for one. Fresno is the car theft capitol of the U.S. Heat- if you weren't born there, I don't know if there is any getting used to it. Yeah, it's a dry heat, but when it's 111 outside in the summertime, you don't much care. Oh- and if you're single and in your 20's, forget about it. Historically, there's "nothing to do"- although I think that if you're inventive and keep your eyes open, that's not the case.

These aren't problems where we are now. Crime and heat are not really a concern in Marin, and there's lots to do. But- There's so much about this region that frustrates the heck out of me. A strange sense of entitlement. People are very much self contained units here- I get glared at, looked "through", a lot, for the temerity of being in the same aisle in the grocery store. Or maybe because I look a little different? I am heavier than most women here, flashier too.

Worse- When I thank a server in a restaurant for refilling my iced tea, or when the checker at the market asks how I am doing, and I say, "I'm doing fine: How's your day been so far?" I usually get a shocked silence, then, "Wow! Thanks for asking! They're not used to interacting with customers. This bothers me. It bothers me more when I go anywhere else, and realize that I am avoiding eye contact with people.

And the driving. OH, the driving. Actually, it's a similar thing. People act like they are the only cars on the road. I watch people pull stunts on the road multiple times a day, that they would probably get shot for back home.Once we got over the novelty, we realized the sad truth: we were living in a much more expensive area, and surrounded by beauty, but everything just felt so hostile that we hated to leave our own tiny shoebox of a house. So maybe we just haven't given it a fair shot.

I have met some lovely people here, too. But I miss the affordability, the "hominess" of Fresno. I feel constantly judged here. I miss the friendliness and the diversity, and of course, the familiarity. 

And in the context of Paleo, I miss that real farm-to-table experience. My grandparents were ranchers. The stuff at the Fresno farmer's market is the real deal- grown 30 minutes away. Organic Pastures  is practically in the backyard. The growing season there is pretty much year-round. From a personal standpoint: I keep thinking of the gigantic backyard at the house we are renting out now. And how many fruit trees I could plant, and have room to plant veggies!  Ironically, when I got to Farmer's markets here- guess where all the stuff is from? With the exception of a few stalls from Sonoma, most of the produce is from the Valley.

As the end of the year gets closer: SG is still trying to figure out what to do on the job front, and I am trying to get all my ducks in a row and not freak out.  I feel like we are on the verge of something huge. We're both "late bloomers" in the sense that I only recently got a sense of "What I want to be when I grow up", and he's still working on that himself, but I can see the progress being made. It's terrifying and exhilarating at the same time!

And I say to myself, "Well? How did I get here?"

I was out of town last week, and am juggling getting my schedule back together and a whole bunch of medical stuff (but that's the other blog!) this week. Please forgive my hiatus. I swear, it is all I can do to stay on track and keep cooking.

In the meantime, here are the highlights:

As I am not really "allowed" to run or lift weights, SG and I decided I should get a bike. Here's "Hedwig". I love her! We have already gone on a few jaunts together- the last of which involved picking up my meat and produce order from Tara Firma Farms.


I have been slowly going through Practical Paleo, and actually took it to the coast with me. I love it even more than I did at first, if that's possible.


 I have been cooking up a storm. I can't say I was responsible for the chickens (just the veggie sides), but they were the work of my baby bro- I admit they were delicious. My family is asking more questions, and my sis was flipping through Practical Paleo: I have to admit, I am excited about that.

I am actually getting more and more into cooking, and am getting dangerous in kitchen stores. This is probably the place to admit that both SG and I have a "favorite spatula". Since we keep fighting over it, we decided to get some spares.

Since I am not drinking coffee right now, and I noticed how much SG enjoyed using the one at my parents' place, we broke down and got him a Keurig. I sent a vinegar and a rinse cycle through our trusty Cuisinart 8 cup model, and put it into storage where my breadmaker used to live. 

Gadgetry is taking over. I just bought a deep-fryer (filled with coconut oil of course!) and deep-fried something for the first time last night. It seems to be less greasy- and less messy! Than pan frying, and I was super-impressed with the results: I guess I am a convert. We are also talking about biting the bullet and splurging on a Vitamix. Everyone I know who has one loves it, and I would rather get one appliance than getting a juicer and upgrading my tiny Cuisinart.

Oh! I finally tried Kombucha. And liked it! I am even considering *gasp* MAKING MY OWN. Who knows what's next?! Maybe I will get brave enough to deal with the offal in my freezer this week.

Which Way?

Today is...well, it's back to reality.


I am realizing that there's a lot I am keeping quiet about, and it's affecting my ability to keep things updated, because my focus is somewhere else.


So: the baby quest is now well underway. I am excited to be making progress on this front, although I am dismayed that I am having to go the conventional medical route. I really don't like the idea of messing with hormones etc., but we have waited long enough. Compromises must be made! It may be a little TMI for some people, but if you are interested, you can read about things over here.



The other thing: parents.

When we were in Carmel last weekend, I could tell something was wrong.  As it turns out, Dad is having some health issues. We were heading back up the hill after having breakfast, and I could tell he was struggling. He said it had happened before. It's something related to his heart- He refused to talk about it, but I am guessing that it's angina or some kind of arrhythmia. He's already got a stent in one of his arteries. Evidently, with everything else going on, I wasn't supposed to be told about it.

He went in yesterday for a full workup, and the good news is, all his arteries checked out fine, including the one with the stent. The bad news is that there is still obviously an issue, and we don't know what it is. Mom is talking about cutting red meat out of his diet, getting him to slow down a little to curb stress, and having him do a sleep study. I keep thinking about the Primal Blueprint book that was sitting on the bedside table drawer in the guest room- obviously not read. I don't want to be pushy, but I think I would regret it if I didn't at least say my piece now.

And of course, when I am worried and focusing on other things, good habits tend to slip a little. I cleaned out the fridge before we went on our trip, but haven't restocked- so we have been gong out to dinner a lot, and I am feeling "off". Time to get back in the swing of things!!!

Today I am taking a trip to the grocery store, making coconut milk, and "roasting" a chicken in the crockpot. Making some iced tea and boiling some eggs to have on hand sounds good, too!

It's also the time when I can switch up my CSA box, so I cancelled the veggies, but bumped up our meat share. The veggies were going to waste: we were getting tons of okra, and too many salad greens to use before they went bad, and just stuff we don't eat a lot of.  I have an easier time planning meals around meat than around veggies! I also added a share of fruit and a share of offal to the order, to try things out. Things are about to get experimental over here!!! 

Dibs on Ribs!

I have a confession to make.

I used to love cooking. I am lucky in that I am somehow genetically able to cook. My parents are both handy in the kitchen, but it was the seventies and 80's- I remember lots of casseroles, lamb chops, and broccoli. But I primarily learned how to cook from both my grandmothers.  Those ladies were excellent chefs, in very different ways.

I am Armenian on my Mom's side, and Grandma Marge would do all the special dishes: the cheese borags, the yalanchi, the kufta, and then when we would visit on the weekends, there was always a blow-out giant diner-style breakfast. She would ask what you wanted, and then make it for you. Ham! Eggs! Bacon! Toast! Potatoes! Your plate would be filled, and re-filled. Everything was always delicious., and if you kept eating, she would keep feeding you. Even if we were out and about, you could always count on her to have orange or mint Tic-Tacs in her purse. Always funny, sweet and smiling, and always the consummate hostess. Occasionally (if I was very good) Grandma Marge would let me put fillings in the borags, and help her roll the yalanchi in grape leaves. Most of the time I just watched, wide-eyed, as she draped sheets of tissue-thin phyllo dough like a magician, or fried eggs in bacon grease- something I had never witnessed at home.

The people who lived in her neighborhood after she was widowed would all stop by for treats- she had a sort of open house in the afternoon. So when we would stop by, an ever-changing parade of characters would filter in for iced tea, wedges of melon, or whatever she thought looked "interesting" at the store that day. The family always called her house and enormous kitchen "Maggie's Cafe." She especially loved to feed my Dad, because at 6 feet (she was 4'11"!) she thought he was incredibly tall, and had nicknamed him "Jumbo Jack". She passed away before she could have met my hubby- I know she would have loved him. Although at 6'5", she probably would have kept trying to feed him until he exploded! 

Grandma Ruby was something else entirely. She was German and English, a front line field nurse in WWII, and she didn't take crap from ANYBODY. She was the go-to babysitter, as she lived the closest, and I vividly remember Dad ominously saying, with a twinkle in his eye: "Now, behave yourselves: Grandma SPANKS!" While I only witnessed one spanking, it was old school, with a wooden spoon- I am thankful it wasn't me! A child of the depression, her fridge was always crammed with leftovers. Nothing went to waste, and she could "disguise" just about anything and make it taste delicious.  You soon learned not to ask what was in it- the ingredients in just about everything varied with what she had unearthed in the fridge.

Grandma Ruby drove home the point that cooking had rules. If I was going to help, I had to tie my hair back. There was a little apron in my size, always hanging up behind the kitchen door. I washed my hands, presented them for inspection, and occasionally had to re-wash. We set out all the ingredients beforehand, and cleaned up as we went (something I still struggle with, but you did NOT say no to Grandma R.) While I did have to follow her rules- woe betide me if I neglected to use my thumb as a spatula to get every last bit of egg out of a shell- I had a lot more autonomy, as long as I was careful. She taught me to taste as I went, and if I thought something was a good idea, I could have a little bit extra for "experiments". Heady power for an eight-year old!

Along the way, somehow, I lost all that. Cooking became a chore. I am surprised  at how long it took me to figure out why, but it became evident when I started loving to cook again- when I stopped counting calories, and just focused on real food. It's a lot easier to count the calories you are eating if you can just read it off the back of the box. Breaking down the calories in a recipe is time consuming, and well- a skinless chicken breast with steamed veggies and a half-cup of brown rice isn't exactly inspiring. Does anyone was to photograph that? Probably not. Just the thought of eating it makes me feel kind of- well, uninspired, and sad.

So, if you're still with me...let's talk about ribs.

I have to admit, they initially looked a little....well. Yeah.

I have never made ribs before. Here is the basic recipe I followed, from Paleo For Foodies. I also used their Spicy BBQ sauce recipe. I didn't bother with sauteing anything, just threw it all into the crock.  I regret to say that SOMEONE ate the pineapple I thought I had squirreled away in the back of the fridge, so I couldn't add it in. I settled for a little extra honey, used coconut oil instead of olive oil, and supplemented with a couple of squirts of Sriacha.

As I was going to spend the rest of my day scouring the bathroom, I crossed my fingers, and set the trusty Crock Pot on High for 4 hours.

                                 Behold!

I want my babyback babyback babyback riiiibs

Ok, so the difference isn't really THAT amazing. However, I was knackered after cleaning all day. The thought that dinner was already done was a heady one. And the smell that was drifting out of my kitchen reminded me of those Bugs Bunny cartoons, when the tendrils of scent will bodily pick up a character and waft them through the air, while their eyeballs bulge out and their pupils turn into tiny hearts.  I walked into the kitchen when the timer beeped- to find Moxie, staring fixedly at the CrockPot like this. (See below.)

It is taking all the restraint I have not to Photoshop hearts onto her crazed and bulgy little eyeballs. If she were wearing a t-shirt, it would read, "I <3 U, Crock Pooooooot!"



This recipe is definitely a keeper. Hubby and I both really enjoyed it. I am glad that our Tara Firma box is coercing me to add new items to the repetoire on a continual basis!

The meat was so tender, knives were unnecessary. However, I do recommend paper towels, as these suckers were messy. The sriacha worked really well in this recipe. Oh- and next time, I will be sure to have pineapple to put in, as I think that would have made it even better. Verdict- Super-YUM!



Obligatory finished product photo:

One of those ribs lived to fight another day.  I couldn't finish!

Incommunicada

"Bueller? Anyone? Bueller?"

Evidently, it was an ad lib when Ferris Bueller uttered the immortal line, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it. "

I've spent a lot of time doing a lot of "stopping and looking around" the past month or so. I have been doing a lot of cooking, and a lot of organizing that needed to be done. (There's still a lot more to go!) As well as filling in at work.  That's the amazing thing: I used to be the one who was sick all the time. So it's a welcome change to not be down with the flu or some gruesome cough this time of year: Such is the lot of the kindergarten teacher.

The other potentially amazing thing: my hubby has volunteered to start taking pictures of the food I cook and the places we go together. This is a big deal, as my iPhone photos are handy, but not particularly eye-candy material, and I thought that a collaboration between my writing and his talent at taking photos might be a fun enterprise. He took the photo of the cookie tower below- see what I mean?

The bottom tier was the first to go!

So I have a huge backlog of stuff, but the subject at hand tomorrow will be Thanksgiving. I snuck a copy of The Primal Blueprint onto the end table at my parents' vacation place. They can see first-hand the improvements in my appearance and demeanor. But I think the best emissary of all was the treats I whipped up. My brother was in charge of the (deep fried) turkey, and Dad made stuffing, but I pretty much did the rest, with some help from Mom (who got some help from the Armenian deli down the street!)

It's the first time I've ever done the bulk of the Thanksgiving cooking, and even though some items were just off-limits for LG and I, I made sure that there were lots of Primal treats for everyone to enjoy- as well as old favorites that I "Primal-ized" a little bit. I am happy to report that the chocolate chip cookies I made were the first thing to disappear, and the whipped sweet potato recipe I used was raved over (and I notice, squabbled over the most when it came time to divvy up leftovers.)

The most telling event: My mom makes pilaf without fail. Any major occasion, pilaf is there- we're Armenian, after all. This year, after she made sure I wouldn't eat it, she looked at the huge feast we were already preparing, and said, "You know, I don't think that we'll miss it!"  Not only was it not even mentioned, but I noticed that the only person who even needed to go back for seconds was my Dad. (And what did he get? Stuffing! I think he was the only one who ate it.)  The second most telling event? More than once, my family said that it was the best meal we had ever had, and commented on how beautiful and colorful everything was. I guess the key is feeding them into submission!

When it rains...

I decided to forward the link to my local News affiliates paleo segment to my parents last night.
They are both products of the SAD: both on Lipitor, both with cholesterol issues, among other things. Two years ago, Dad ended up in the hospital with a blocked circumflex artery; he now has a stent. High cholesterol runs in my family, as well as cardiac issues and Alzheimers.  I've brought up my concerns before, but I am hoping that the video will speak to them more effectively than I am capable of doing. I haven't heard back yet, but I didn't expect to.

And then there's LG. He's lucky, he's a big guy: when you're tall, you can get away with eating the way he eats, and he carries it well. But both his parents are Type 2 diabetics. I do my best not to nag, and just try to set a good example, but I know that when I am gone, he's like Templeton, the rat from Charlotte's Web, at the county fair. Beer, pizza, fast food, and Halloween candy...

I also know that when he does eat Primally- never 80/20, more like 60/40- he drops weight seemingly overnight. I try not to begrudge him. And I also know I have been needing to tighten things up for awhile.
So today, I flipped through Mark's new book and thought: this may be the ammunition I need! I have never gotten him to read the PB, although he does like the Before and After stories on MDA.  While I already knew most of the info in the book, I did love that it was like a clear and concise action plan, and I felt that the direct approach would be much more effective for the way that he processes info.

So he has promised to read it: I have already seen him flipping through it, so I am excited. We will start our 21 day challenge together when he gets back from a business trip next week. And I am hopeful that when he sees his parents next week, the subject may come up. Once again, it would be better coming from him than me!

In the meantime, my lack of weight loss has been bothering me. I have benefited so much from changing my diet: the occasional indulgence shouldn't be a problem. And I don't think I am eating too much: if anything, I tend to IF past noon on most days. Which is why a post caught my eye when I was looking at the forum on MDA today, and another woman: in much better shape than I, with  lot less weight to lose, complained that she was gaining. Another member pointed her towards this site. So I am hopeful that with some tweaking, I can maybe get things moving again. Considering that he advocates eating a low carb breakfast first thing in the morning as the big number once recommendation, and there's plenty more that I can change and still fall well within the scope of the PB, I feel good about it.

So many questions...

Imagine my surprise when I was flipping through channels last week and saw the tease for the "Eat Like a Caveman" on the local Bay Area news. L.G. and I watched in amusement as they reported on the dramatic changes following a Paleo diet made in the subject testing it out: and she wasn't even shooting for weight loss in the beginning, but her blood pressure dropped into the healthy range, cholesterol dropped 30 points, and he pre-diabetic status reversed itself: In less than two weeks.

In the end, she's kept it up for a few months, her numbers had improved even more dramatically, and she's lost 30 lbs and 2 dress sizes.

So it's definitely hitting the mainstream. And being home and spending time with my family, suddenly, they are asking a ton more questions: after a year and a half. To be fair, I know my choices seem arbitrary to them: they've watched my battle with the scale since I was 12.  So this has been viewed as just another fad diet that I am on. And when I am around them, I tend to eat more liberally, so as not to rock the boat. But when we went out for dinner with another couple they are friends with, it was incessant: "So...can you eat beans? What about rice?" And I just tried to be as concise and non preachy as I could. Since we were eating at a Mexican restaurant, they were attacking the corn tortilla chips while we had our chat.

And after a lot of hemming and hawing, I think I am going to make sure my family has copies of Wheat Belly and The Primal Blueprint to look over. And maybe send them the link to the "Eat Like a Caveman" news segment as well. It certainly can't hurt!

In other book news, I decided to take advantage of Mark's offer and buy his new book, The Primal Blueprint 21 Day Body Transformation.  Between that, and the fact that Make It Paleo shipped today, I am going to have a lot of reading to do!!! L.G. hasn't really read any of the books, but I think he is on board with the concept, and I could probably use a kick in the pants to really tighten up my eating. Some weight loss would be nice as well: while I am thrilled with how much my life and health have already changed, I am still far from my healthiest weight.

Part of the battle has been the fact that I am under "orders" not to run or do any major core work, but I finally confessed to my Dr. that I missed dance and more challenging exercise today. He said that cycling would be ok, running should be minimal, and that the belly dancing class that I want to take is strictly verboten. BUT, ballroom dance got tentative approval. Now I just need to get L.G. to agree to go with me!