March Madness

March: it's the new February.  (My apologies to any college basketball fans out there - this one sentence is the only one in this post that uses word "basketball").  It's the end of March, winter is still in full blast here and I'm feeling the effects. I'm back to being most of the Seven Dwarfs all by myself: Sneezy, Grumpy, Sleepy, Dopey, and even Bashful if you take into account how I've been ignoring the telephone and various people I should be calling for various reasons. Now, as a public service for those of you like me, who have to account for all seven of the dwarfs or totally fixate on thinking about them until you do, the others are Doc and Happy.  

But, I don't want this to be a "woe is me/life stinks" post.  After all, April starts in a mere five days. I already have four crocuses growing in the garden (not blooming, mind you, but their shoots are up).  A few daffodils are even pushing their way through the soil.  And I know the ground is thawing because Mobley, our lovable garden-killer (and garden-tiller) is digging again (why, with all the land we have, does he restrict his activities to digging where I planted flowers last year?) So, hopefully it will actually feel like spring  soon and I'll be back on track.

Here's my latest idea for when I am:  I am going to try to make even more food from scratch.  I already do quite a bit but do rely on frozen pancakes for quick breakfasts, cake mixes for quick deserts, and take-out food from the Coop or the local Chinese hole-in-the-wall when I won't be home to cook dinner.  I have three different motivations for this project: health, economy, and the environment.  I've been making my own hummus for a few months now.  It takes less than ten minutes to make using canned chick peas (including the time it takes to wash the blender) but it's fresher and cheaper than store-bought hummus.  Also, when I make it myself, I use one less plastic container that will end up in a land-fill as soon as the hummus is eaten.  So, I'm going to try to (loosely) track how much money I save, and maybe even how much plastic I save as well, from doing my own food preparation.  The health issue is more intangible - but, at least for me, since I'm on a low-sodium diet, anything I can prepare myself, is undeniably healthier. 

So, wish me luck.  Although, I freely admit that no new changes will be made until the temperature outside is consistently above freezing!  

The Flu

My apologies to V, who says I always make her laugh.  She may not find this post funny at all.  I know when my kids were little, as two of hers are now, the constant onslaught of runny noses, sick tummies, and infected ears left me too tired from sleepless nights and the endless shopping for boxes of tissues to find anything funny about the usual winter maladies.  And, I'm afraid that there's one pretty typical winter malady I've never found funny at all.

When I was in the first trimester of my pregnancy with my third child I got the flu.  I was already beyond bone-tired before I got sick: in addition to dealing with morning sickness and the exhaustion of early pregnancy, I had a three year old and a just-barely two year old at home. What I most clearly remember from the days I was sick though, was lying in bed, praying to die.  Every time I heard footsteps coming up the stairs I hoped it was my husband coming to tell me he was taking me to the hospital (I was too sick to ask him to do so - and in my addled state I couldn't even figure out if this was an option).  At times, I wondered if, when he walked into the room, I wouldn't be able to respond at all and I would then find that I was indeed dead.  As happens, my body killed the flu virus and I returned to my regular life.  But, I'd learned something about myself that week: I'd always thought that should I get a horrible disease (cancer, perhaps), I'd fight tooth and nail for my life. After this I realized it was way more likely that should that happen, I'd roll over and die.  I had no fight for the flu, what energy would I have for a longer, tougher battle?

I now vigilantly get a flu shot each year.  This year, apparently, the strain of viruses in the vaccine does not match the virus being spread around.  I woke up Sunday to find that my body felt like it had been run over by a steam roller and the left side of my head pounded as if a jackhammer was trying to bore a hole through it. I didn't have the energy to even walk downstairs.  This was not good.

I had a very busy week planned.  Monday was the day our new den furniture was to be delivered and installed, Shay had a violin lesson I didn't think he should miss as he's working on a piece for NYSSMA which has been coming along slowly and painfully, Kit had a voice lesson and she'd missed the past three weeks, I had a parents' organization meeting at the middle school that I needed to attend to recruit volunteers for the book fair next month.  Tuesday is Shay's school concert and I had a doctor's appointment and lunch with a friend planned.  Wednesday is Kit's school concert.  There's precious little food in the house.  I'm still not finished resetting the basement from last week's flood and once the new furniture is installed, there are computers, books, school supplies, and a couple thousand cd's (don't ask) to be shifted.

But, there are lessons in everything and the lessons of the flu of 2008 is this: it didn't matter that I spent two days in bed, running out of light reading, not accomplishing anything.  I did manage to rally and get Shay to the violin lesson but his teacher didn't even listen to his NYSSMA piece. Hank took Kit to her voice lesson.  At some point I'll get volunteers for the book fair.  The concerts will go on and I'd been meaning to run down our stores of frozen and packaged food anyway. Hank took the kids to school, shopped for enough veggies for last night's dinner, and cooked it. The furniture will be delivered at some later date and I'll get the basement and den back in order. There's nothing like unexpectedly stepping out of your routine to realize just how unimportant most of the details of it are.

BTW, although there were moments on Sunday that I played with the idea that death might be preferable to having the flu, I was also able to remind myself (and I need to many, many times) that everything is temporary, everything passes - even the flu.  And it is passing - I'm happy to report that the steamroller that so successfully pressed my body into my mattress on Sunday is gone and the little jackhammer wielder in my head that worked in tandem with it has gone, too. They've left behind little presents in the form of a cough and a runny nose, but I may not be tough enough to not be dragged down the flu, but I am tough enough for a garden-variety cold. 

My family (and the rest of the world) survived without me - everything ran just fine for that brief moment I was put out of my daily life.  Which is good to remember.  I'm not saying I wouldn't be missed if I weren't here (I know I would be), but it helps to keep everything in perspective to know that life goes on.  No matter what.

Final words: I just realized there is one family member who doesn't think that everything went well without me.  Mobley, our goofy one-year old Chocolate Lab, has just informed that he's had way too much down-time during my illness.  They way he let me know is this: first he was shoving his bright orange squeeky football in my leg (the same toy he squeeked in my face for hours on Sunday when I was too tired to either protest or play).  I threw it a bit and then ignored him and he moved on.  Mobley is much like my kids were when they were little: if he's too quiet, I know he's doing something he'd rather I not know about.  I suddenly realized he was too quiet. Let me backtrack a bit here: a number of years ago, one of my husband's colleagues got a bull dog puppy.  The puppy ate this man's couch.  Not the whole thing, mind you, but a great big chunk of it.  This was something I could never quite get until five minutes ago, when I went looking for the too-quiet Mobley, and found him, stretched out on the good couch (the best and most expensive piece of furniture in the house), with one of the back cushions in his mouth.  He was chomping away so happily and defiantly that he didn't even stop when he saw me.  Which tells me that I'm now totally over the flu, it's time to walk the dog before I have a basement, den, and living room to resurrect.

Flexibility or: The Vegan Police Take the Night Off

Last night was our high school's Indoor Track Banquet (do we really call something held in the high school cafeteria a banquet?  You bet we do!).  I accompanied my son Harry, aka: The Vegan Cop. Harry's been keeping me on the straight and narrow for the past ten days: no cheating allowed. Vegan is vegan and no morsel of dairy, egg, or even honey (which some vegan's eat) is allowed to pass my lips.  Harry zeal is personal: he'd like to be vegan, but I'm afraid that if you take pizza, mozzarella sticks, and ice cream out of his diet, his skinny frame would all but disappear (and as it is, he walks around hungry most days).  He has his principles, but right now, they're just not strong enough to power him through being a vegetarian who actually eats vegetables (he's sure the portions of them that he ate as a toddler are still sufficient).  So, he's protecting the animals of the world by making sure I eat nothing that comes from them.

However, Harry's in love with the garlic bread that's served at the banquet. I heard about it all week, with warnings that I must, must, must, grab a slice as soon as the parents are invited up to the buffet (parents usually get first dibs) because otherwise, the team would snatch it all up and I'd miss my chance.  "Probably not vegan, Har," I informed him. He barely acknowleged the ethical dilemma this was throwing me into.  He clearly was not worried about the cows the butter on it had come from. After all, this is the garlic bread against which all garlic breads are measured.  A culinary masterpiece, mass produced and stored in a warming pan.  I know when my role as a mother is to set aside my own priorities and go for it. 

In all fairness, without Officer Harry's blessing, I'd have put aside the Vegan Experiment for the night anyway.  I'd already decided that, for now at least, I'd be moderate in this and that if it came to not eating (or being a royal pain in the butt to others who are willing to feed me on occasion), I'd forego being a purist.  I know that I can control what I eat when I'm home but that at times, when I'm out I'll relax about it.  

I got on the buffet line (after almost everyone else as the parents were not given priority over the hungry teens this time and I decided that Harry would forgive me if I missed the bread because I didn't want to race to get it) and surveyed my choices: salad with spinach (I don't eat spinach for medical reasons), chicken with mushrooms (do I pick off the mushrooms?  Nah, too chickeny and too self-serving), pasta (probably some cheese in the tomato sauce, but it's a go), roasted potatoes (maybe some butter, but possibly vegan), zucchini (most likely had butter on it, but this was my night to go wild), and Yes! the garlic bread was still there!  A brownie and a bit of cake for desert (this is my chance!  I can't waste it!)  The food was okay.  Frankly, the next time I "cheat" I hope it's with food that hasn't been in warming trays quite so long.  And, I hope that next time I get a real honest-to-goodness brownie, it's really thick, gooey, chewy, and chocolaty because the one I had last night tasted like it could have been - - - vegan!  (Nah, I know it wasn't, but it wasn't worth the cheat or the calories.)  The cake was what makes us all eat too much sugar and hate to give up eggs and milk for - it was light, sweet, perfect (too bad there were no plates, forks, or napkins by that point in the night - although, for sure, none of the athletes and few of the parents seemed to care).

To top off the evening, I came home and decided "in for a nickel, in for a dime".  To cap off my fall from vegan grace, I had two Girl Scout Samoa cookies.  

And now, I'm ready to get back on the wagon.  I've found I like eating a vegan diet.  I realized last night that I don't miss the foods I used to eat and that I'm enjoying cooking differently.  I enjoy the creativity of trying different combinations of vegetables, grains, and beans.  I like the crunch of these foods.  And I like knowing that I'm doing one more thing to "do no harm".  The discipline of it is good, too - it's hard to mindlessly eat vegan, it's one more way to practice mindfulness.  And I suspect, Officer Harry will be back walking his beat again today - letting this excon know that she may have been paroled for a few hours, but it's time to get back to pressing those "Vegan Foods This Way" road signs again.  I'm not sorry about it one bit.

Scattered....

....is what this post will be as that's how I'm feeling.  I started a post on March 1 and was feeling great - another dreaded and dreadful February was over, the Vegan Experiment was going well, I'd realized that I've even had moments of sheer, spontaneous joy lately.  And, then....  

....(sounds of skidmarks in the background).  Nothing major.  Just "eh".  March is very Februaryish (cold, gray, icy, dark, wet). The Vegan Experiment is going, but there are moments where I'd love a piece of good old American cheese, or to eat anything from a bakery without checking the ingredients  My routine is feeling, well, .... routine. 

And my mind's been boinging all over the place, and sometimes when it boings, it can get to thinking some pretty negative things, even mean-spirited, catty, and decidedly petty things.  Not to mention nervous thoughts, which seem to be a specialty of my mind.

But...this is where my practice comes in.  The things I "intend" for myself each day (said to myself at the end of my meditation) are to practice ahimsa (non-harming), satya (truth telling), mindfulness (being aware of each moment), radical acceptance (accepting each moment as it is), and to practice lovingkindness and compassion.  So, I notice when I'm having a cranky, petty, mean-spirited thought.  For example, a friend called today - he'd been unexpectedly hospitalized yesterday.  His cat had surgery the day before and my friend asked me to go over to his house to feed and medicate his cat.  Normally, I'd do this happily - I'd be glad to be in a position to be able to help.  Today, I did it grumpily, wondering why my friend had waited so long to call.  Now, I realize that was pretty nasty of me - obviously he had other things (such as his emergency surgery) on his mind.  But, there it is.  Bad news: bad thoughts on my part.  Good news: I noticed Better news, I took care of his cat.  Other good news: I'm not going to beat myself up all day over my bad thoughts.  That's what minds do: they jump around like monkeys in the jungle, first here, then there, good thoughts, bad thoughts. I'm sure I'm not the only person around who'd rather that even their best friend not know everything going on in her mind!  The idea is to notice wherethe mind goes and then....

Deal with it.  Learn to control it when it needs controlling.  So, I didn't let my grumpiness get in the way of my doing the right thing.  And I'm not going to dwell on why my friend didn't call earlier so I could have done this chore at my convenience (except for maybe the time it took to write that). Another example, my not-so-good friend Fear, who walked side-by-side and step-by-step with me for so long.  He's back.  He's not hanging around as much as he did until last year, but he's been dropping by at odd moments lately.  This is how I deal with him:  as soon as he shows up (and I'm now very good at noticing him as soon as he does so), I say to myself, "Inner Dweller, I humbly and lovingly sacrifice my fear to you.  Please burn it in your eternal flame.  Send it back to the origin from which it came.  Thank you but I no longer need it nor want it." This is the process that my Yoga teacher, Leonard, taught me and it works.  I don't think the actual words matter.  It's a way of acknowledging what's going on and that I don't wish to continue it.  I used to have to do this over and over (and over) to deal with a specific fear, now I can usually dispatch with fearful thoughts after only a few repeats (if even that many).

The Vegan Experiment (see, I warned you I'm all over the place!) is still operational.  I think today may be the 11th day.  I found out (the hard way, of course) that it's a bad, bad thing to run out of fresh food if you're vegan.  Over the weekend, I ran out of fresh vegetables and much else I'd need to cook good meals.  Dinner on Saturday was a frozen veggie burger (that had probably been in the freezer than longer than I'd care to know) on a white bread hamburger roll (ditto) and frozen french fries.  Yuck!  I almost never eat this way (thank goodness ketchup is vegan)!  I also discovered that Pillsbury frosting is vegan (although it may not actually count as food).  I got hungry enough and desperate enough for sweets to eat some (which proves that health concerns are not my main motivation for eating vegan although you'd think I'd try to eat healthfully if I'm already being so careful about what I'm eating). After the Saturday fiasco, I was at the food coop when it opened on Sunday.  I loaded my shopping cart with good, healthy vegan ingredients and food (including carob dipped rice cakes and dairy-free chocolate chips).  Later on Sunday, I went to another healthy foods store (It's Only Natural in Stuyvesant Plaza), where I found a vegan black and white cookie (my all time favorite).  Although the vegan cookie was not quite up to NYC's Zaro's standards (that is quite simply, the best cookie in the world), compared to processed frosting in a can, it was wonderful.

And now, to return to joy.  At times lately, although not in the last few days, I experience joy.  Not the, "Oh my goodness, I just gave birth to this beautiful, healthy baby" kind or the, "I just won the lottery kind."  The spontaneous kind.  Where suddenly everything is perfect (even though it's not). The problems of the world, myself, whatever problems my friends and family have, it's all still there but, somehow, there's still a feeling of being swaddled by perfection.  I believe some call this bliss, or perhaps grace.  Whatever.  I'll take it whenever it comes.  Gladly.  Gratefully.

And now I'm off: 2:05 p.m. - it's time to get back to the routine and start chauffeuring kids around.

Namaste.