Having an attitude of gratitude....

I generally think of myself as positive -- but I have my moments where I'm given to complaining, and most often about the tiniest irritants in the grand scheme. A real-life "Princess & The Pea" moment.

For example, I am practically OCD when it comes to kitchen storage things. I know, I laugh about it and yet it's really sad. My brother even half-jokingly refers to me as the female version of the husband from "Sleeping With The Enemy." (No, I don't need the towels to be stripe-side out, and even-lengthed, nor do I need cans with brand name facing out. If anything, I'd turn cans nutrition facts label out -- HA!) The prime example is this: I have a lot of Ziploc/Gladware plastic that I use to take my lunch in -- everything from 1 cup bowls to larger storage things. Now, even as messy and unorganized as I am, I am a real stickler for making sure it's all stacked to minimize clutter and maximize my ability to find them in a hurry (which is most mornings). I truly get all whacked out when they're thrown up into the cabinet haphazardly. I have yelled, begged, cajoled, etc. and all it does is make me super-stressed out.

This is just an example of what I mean -- it's the little things that really don't mean anything, that I'm allowing to stress me out...... when I ought to just be grateful for having the items, for having a way to wash them and keep them clean, for having a house to put them in, and food to put in them. So many things I should be grateful for --- and like an idiot, I focus instead on the part that matters least.

In my heart of hearts, I know I am blessed beyond belief and I really am grateful for all those things in my life. I have more than I need, more than I want, I have health and I have family and friends, and I have a job (such a blessing!). I have the ability to think, to create, to move and walk and breathe without assistance. There are such overarching blessings that I feel like a total, complete heel for the penny-ante whines.

So I really want to work this month on my "attitude of gratitude." I want to stop focusing on those stupid little things and instead be glad for what those irritants mean

• Less whining about the dishes in the sink, and more grateful for the ability to put food on them.
  
• Less screeching about dirty clothes that pile up, and more drop-to-my-knees-in-praise for having more than one item to wear and the means to keep them washed.
• Less peevishness about little crap that really doesn't matter, and more rise-up-and-cry-out about things that really aren't right with the world.
  

From all the petty concerns -- deliver me, Lord. For the things that truly matter -- make me grateful, Lord. From those who have the least in material goods and the most in spirit -- give me the wisdom to learn from them, Lord. For those who need me to speak for them -- give me boldness to do so, Lord.

The Gang still rides......

Another weekend, and I have more apple butter cooking up overnight. There were two pecks of apples to use, so........ It's about 6-1/3 pounds or so of apples before peeling and coring. So I figure it's about 5 pounds of apples afterwards. And I still have quite a few apples left to eat (my adored Pink Lady kind).

And I just realized I left out the spices! Crap! I remembered the Splenda but not the spices. Dang it. Need to go add it really quick!

The Apple Butter Gang.....

Forgive this walk down Memory Lane, but when I was a kid, I got a great thrill out of Movie Saturdays at the elementary school. You see, one of my Girl Scout friends had a dad who had a great love for movies. On Saturdays during the school year, and occasionally in the summers, Mr. H would show movies to the kids using the projector. These were the days when movies and films in class were shown with big honkin' projectors and you had to get the reels just so......... Kids today have no idea how good we had it.

For the grand princely sum of 50c/week, we got to see not one but TWO kid-friendly movies in the cafeteria. Mr. H also provided popcorn and cotton candy for a little extra money. The movies were the great Disney 70s fare like Bedknobs and Broomsticks, The Cat From Outer Space, the original Freaky Friday with Jodie Foster, and one of my very favorites, The Apple Dumpling Gang with Tim Conway and Don Knotts. If memory serves, I also saw the first Superman with Christopher Reeve on one of those Saturdays.

But anyway, last Saturday, I became a one-woman Apple Butter Gang. As I mentioned in my last post, I got possessed, bought 3 pecks of apples, and found a very easy crock-pot apple butter recipe online! The adventure of making apple butter was more like a misadventure from one of the Apple Dumpling Gang movies -- and just as much fun! These are some of the things I learned from my great apple butter adventure:

• The crock-pot that I thought was 6 quarts is only 5. Oh well. What can you do? Okay, what I really wanted to do was get my happy rear to Kohl's for the 8-quart crockpot they had on sale earlier this week. Like I need it. I do. Don't I?
  
• Whomever created the recipe has a serious sweet tooth! :) The original recipe called for 2 c sugar for three pounds of apples. It said you could substitute Splenda. So I did. And let me tell you.......... 1.5 cups of Splenda was PLENTY for 6 pounds of AB's -- honestly, almost too much. I could have gotten away with just 1 cup of the Brown Sugar Splenda.
• When it says cook on Low for 8-10 hours, go with the 10. I ended up putting the apple mush in the fridge until Monday evening, then getting it out to cook down some more. And honestly, I could have let it go for maybe even 11-12? These were some seriously juicy apples!
• Five quarts of apple pieces will cook down by half. What I thought might be 1 gallon (4 quarts) of apple butter was only 72 oz (9 half-pint jars). Yeah, that's still a buttload of apple butter. And I have more to make ..... I gotta do something with these apples! We will also be making and freezing some applesauce too. MMMM!!!!
  
• And, homemade apple butter definitely beats store-bought! ANY day.

Signing off now!
Suzy Homemaker

It's the only explanation...

I am possessed. By the demon of domesticity. Her name is Suzy Homemaker.

I hardly have a domestic type bone in my body for things like home cleaning, chores, decor (I'm definitely no Martha Stewart, but I have a vague idea of what works for me). But I am finding myself strangely drawn to the kitchen and whipping up all manner of food.

I went back to the orchard after working yesterday's WW meetings. I bought 3 pecks total: 1.5 each of Pink Lady (my favorite variety!) and of Arkansas Black. I also got the bright idea while standing there in line to make some apple butter.I found a very easy crock-pot apple butter recipe online, and I fired that sucker up today. I used primarily the Arkansas Blacks, with one of the Honeycrisps. I have even made a double batch, so I might be cooking these apples well into tomorrow...... And I don't know what kind of acidic-like stuff is in apples (peelings, fruit itself, etc.), but let me tell you, my hands felt like sandpaper!!! I did an improvised version of Mary Kay's "Satin Hands" routine with what I have on hand at the house, and they're starting to appear human again. I also managed to completely clog up BOTH basins in the kitchen sink Apparently our disposal wasn't really up for the peelings from 6 pounds of apples. Yeah, I know. I ought to start composting if I'm becoming a domestic diva. Actually, I've been thinking about it anyway (my God, what has come over me????).

I had planned to make some ham & potato chowder today as well and freeze it for the winter. I have about 10 quart freezer containers just begging for some soup to be put into them. I've delayed only because I have to also bake some chicken and some turkey burgers for this week. Yeah, I can do it all at once, but Lord have mercy! Too much domesticity and I may burn out! HA!!!

As much as I love kitchen gadgetry

it has become rather apparent that the gadgets do not love me back........

I am typing to you right now with a band-aid around my right ring finger, top knuckle. That's where I sliced/gouged it on a mandoline, trying to nicely and evenly cut a summer squash. Okay, keep in mind that this gadget wasn't a terribly expensive model -- less a "mandoline" and more of a cheap "slicer" (yeah, you think?).Further proof that you get what you pay for. Happy to report that this will be my LAST accident using said slicer -- I bought a much nicer mandoline a couple of weeks ago. I just grabbed this one out of habit.

Meanwhile, my left thumb and the top knuckle of the left index finger look as though they lost a serious clawfest with a most ill-tempered feline. This was from using the "and if you act now, we'll throw in......" portion of the package. I bought one of those "Titan" peelers that is advertised on TV, and it came with a free julienning tool. Actually, I'm rather pleased with the peeler and the extra gadget. They're both pretty nice.

These culinary preparation disasters should come as no real surprise to those who know me. Remember "danger-prone Daphne" from Scooby-Doo? Or "Messy Marvin" from the Hershey's commercials? Yeah. I'm a relative of theirs.

I have grown to love preparing food. It's been one of the nicer side benefits from the whole weight-loss thing: falling in love with food and how to prepare it, and ways I can make it tastier and better for me. But God knows, while I would love to buy it already-prepped, it's not always an economically sound idea to pay for convenience's sake. Sometimes it is -- don't get me wrong. For instance, as I stare at the ever-reddening bandage, I'm thinking maybe paying more for the pre-sliced squash could have been a good thing.

For me, there's something more "authentic" about doing it yourself. Being part of the preparation can give you a deeper connection to your food and a deeper appreciation for it. Yes, I can buy a can of soup; open and heat, and enjoy for 2 or 3 meals. Or, I can take the time to get all the ingredients, make a huge pot of the soup, eat it for days or freeze it for later, and know more precisely how it was done, what went into it, etc. I haven't gone quite so far as to using ingredients I personally raised with my own little hands; I guess I'm probably more Rachael Ray than I am Martha Stewart. But at least it's a place to start. I can appreciate all the different flavors ... improvise a little with the herbs and spices to suit my own tastes ... ponder the universe and agriculture and all that transpired to bring this food to me. And what the food will do for me once it enters my system .... and how its energy can best be used. What will I do with what the food has given me? How do I respond to that gift? (Yes, let's all hold hands and sing "All Good Gifts" from Godspell, right? Just think about it, okay?)

Where my failures lie are in the mechanics of the preparation. Food and meal prep occasionally requires great patience and an even hand. *SNORT* Okay folks, we need not address my shortcomings in those departments. I'm all too aware of them. So maybe, just maybe, that's the lesson to be learned -- even more so than the "connection to the food and the life cycle and all of creation by extension" portion. I've learned to appreciate the idea of the process, and need to work further on the timing thereof.

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And in other news............ only 3 weeks to go and I will officially no longer be larva. Color me very psyched!!!!

Fell a little short......

Today was Race for the Cure 2009. My goal: finish in 45:00, but be happy with anything under 48:00.

There could not have been a more ominous weather forecast. They were calling for BIG rain today, mostly all day. It looked a few times like the sky might just open up this morning. God, however, smiled on us and the rains held off. Now, it was cool .... cool and humid, as opposed to last year's warm and muggy. It's an odd combination but not a bad one. I suppose this is what doing a 5K in London would be like.

I got to the parking garage and went down to the gathering area and vendor stations in the courtyard. One of the things which I should know by now is to not visit vendor tents until after I finish the race. Nope. I go right away and end up hauling it all with me (mistake #1). I didn't get as many things this year or visit quite as many tents. Honestly, do I need another tote bag? No. I did buy a checkbook cover at a t-shirt vendor .... and it was needed. The little plastic one they gave me when I opened this account nearly 5 years ago is just about being held together by a string.

The survivor's walk began, and honestly, that part alone is worth the price of admission. This year, I was especially impressed by the women who are 40+ year survivors. I think about the horrific chemo treatments that were around back then. I know the ones my great-aunt had 30-something years ago and how terrible they made her feel (in addition to the fatigue from her actual illness). To see these ladies smiling and waving to us all .... serious lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.

Soon afterwards, we lined up and began. During the first mile, in order to get around some of the slower traffic, I began to walk faster, zigzagging in and out. And in some of the wider spaces, I began to jog (mistake #2). Got to the one-mile point and............... 17:16. WHAT? I know, better than last year's 21:something, but still. That's my usual pace at the office on a walk, where I'm not jogging. But I also remembered that my one-mile pace is usually my worst (because of the slower people and the 1-mile-only crowd mixed together with the 5K'ers). Okay.

So the second mile comes along and it's pretty well uphill a good portion of the way. I pulled off the jacket I had on because by this point, I was definitely warm. Wrapped it around my waist and put back on my sling backpack. A full one, again, thanks to all the vendor stuff I picked up. Not smart, not smart. Anyhow, I walked along and kept an eye out for two of my coworkers who were running it. I didn't see them at all! When I got to the 2-mile mark, my time was around 33:15 (if I remember correctly). Okay, that's a good pace ..... for a stretch where I thought I was doing my worst. Um, okay.

Soon came the time for the turn to begin mile three. I really was getting tired, and I knew I would have to do some jogging if I hoped to have a prayer of seeing 45:00 when I crossed the line. I looked down at my watch when I hit the water station and realized 45:00 was slipping away from me. I looked down a short time later and saw 48:00 had elapsed from the start time. I felt like crying, but instead...... I started jogging. I now would have to be happy with anything short of 56:26, even if it was 56:25.

I saw one of my runner-coworkers: she did 33:20!!!! I was so proud of her, and then she told me our other runner did 30:00 (roughly). WHOA!!!!! Talk about extra proud of them -- the one who finished in 30 just quit smoking earlier this month. He's about 9 days out without a cigarette, and figured that doing this race was good incentive to keep on the healthy track. And she just took up running earlier this year. Amazing, both of them!!!

I got to the final turn and couldn't find the timer that's usually at the finish line. I looked at my watch and guesstimated that I'd have somewhere around 52:00.

Apparently, we got a later start than I thought we had. I saw 48:52 at the timer (a smaller one than last year's, which is how I missed it!)..... and started running. I was gonna hit 49:00 if I could. But I didn't have quite enough juice for that.

It's okay though............. Not only did I beat my time from last year by 7:23, I'm still roughly at the same pace I was this spring. And all this year, I haven't exclusively walked as my only exercise. I've done the bike and aerobics too. In a way, I think that helped me ..... it improved my cardio enough that I wasn't totally exhausted at the end. Last year, they had chair massages available and I took advantage -- and nearly fell asleep. This year, I didn't see the massage area, but it's okay. I went back to the food court, got a Fiber One yogurt and some water, and pulled the apple and protein bar I'd brought from home out of my backpack.

I also ran into someone who hadn't seen me in a long time and she didn't recognize me. I have to admit; that's one of the best feelings ever. I love watching eyes bug out and jaws drop. I also ran into my original WW leader in the stairwell -- she didn't recognize me from behind! :D

It is astounding to think that in 2 years, I've managed to shave 17:03 minutes off my time. That amount of time is right now buying me right at another MILE under ideal circumstances (in real life, let's say it will get me 7/8 of a mile). I am thinking the only way right now I'll break 45 is to start running...... more often, so that I can build up my endurance. I can do about 20-30 seconds of straight on run-jogging, and then I have to slow it back down. It might be that I have to do a running clinic where I learn how to run.

I already can't wait for next year. I have another walk in a month for Juvenile Diabetes, and there's a place to hope for 45 too!!!

20 years ago this morning....

I awoke face down on a very nice area rug in Greensboro NC. I didn't wake until 11:30 AM, but it was the next couple of minutes later that got me. When I peered out the windows, there were limbs all over the front yard. I asked Mrs. T (our hostess) what had happened, and she quietly, almost haltingly said, "Girls, the storm came through early this morning. Y'all slept through it."

That's right. I slept through a hurricane.

Hurricane Hugo. 20 years ago last night, it made landfall just east of Charleston, and instead of skirting up the coast as we expected, it came inland, hitting Charlotte, Greensboro, Roanoke and other interior portions of Virginia and eventually Pennsylvania and even up to Buffalo.

We were staying in Greensboro because we had tickets for the Elton John concert, originally scheduled for September 22, 1989 in Charlotte. We figured the storm would go up the coast, toward the Outer Banks and the Tidewater area....... no problem, right?

God said, HAAAAAAAAAA!

No concert. We stayed in Greensboro until Saturday afternoon, at which point we trekked on over to Raleigh where other friends had gathered. By Sunday morning, I was tired and just wanted to be home until I knew what would happen next. We all knew school was shut down indefinitely. I dropped off one person from our travel party in Fort Mill (just outside Charlotte). His neighborhood looked like a war zone..... trees and uprooted stuff and mangled fencing. Half his street had water and electricity, the other half did not. I remember he asked about his sister, and his mom mentioned that she was up the street at a neighbor's taking a shower because they were in the water-service area, and their home had none. I dropped off another person in Spartanburg, then headed home to wait it out.

A week later, we were back, but things would never be "back to normal." Even though we weren't there for the height of the storm, as some of our local friends were, an event like that changes you and your perspective. I never really thought I was invincible or even immortal. Having attended way too many family funerals as a youngster gave me lots of exposure to the life-and-death cycle. I knew from losing two classmates in high school that, yes indeed, it could happen to any of us and eventually it would catch up to us. So I held no illusions of invincibility or immortality. But I had an illusion of innocence -- that somehow, the world was still fresh and wonderful if I just believed it so.

That was a casualty of the storm. Wisdom and knowledge have their price, usually consisting of selling your innocence and your idealism.

At least the NBA can thank Hugo for something -- they got a star out of the deal. Tim Duncan was supposed to be an Olympic swimmer. The Olympic-size training pool on his island got destroyed in the storm, so he changed sports.