An Embarrassment of Riches

The last four days have been nothing short of miraculous. Even if, as I write this, I can barely talk, am totally exhausted and am reasonably certain that I have finally capitulated to The Crud.

Tuesday Night:
I "enjoyed" a 5 1/2 hour white-knuckle drive through two snowy mountain passes (the last occuring at night, on a road I've driven only once ... during the day ... in the summer). As much fun as that was, my favorite part had to be lying down in profoundly nasty snow to put on snow chains, only to lie down a couple of hours later in deep powder, to take them off. Good fun. But soaking in the jacuzzi hot tub and sleeping in the middle of a pillow-topped king-sized bed in the Inn at Goose Creek, TOTALLY made up for it.

Wednesday:
As I ate breakfast, I reviewed the copious notes I'd made about the position I was interviewing for that day. I was a little bit nervous. But a rather surreal calm descended upon me: I just knew that I had what it takes to not only do this job, but kick ass at it. I'd even identified the external resources I would need to help me navigate the bits I'm a little weak on.

So as I drove towards town, I simply focused on taking in the scenery. It's a lovely little town, literally in the middle of the state. There was snow - both fresh and old - covering the wide valley, and ... the best part ... it was SUNNY!!

Anyway, my interview day went as follows:

10:30 - 11:30 Interview with Search Committee
11:30 - 1:00 Lunch with Search Committee
1:00 - 1:15ish A partial campus tour
1:30 - 2:30 Meet with one of the VPs
2:30 - 3:30 Meet with interested faculty and exempt staff, for more questions

The whole day felt like one long conversation, in which I carried myself pretty well. I made it clear that I'd not only researched the school and the resources available at the school to help me do the job. But I'd also researched the federal requirements that dictate much of the position, regional and national resources that could support broader campus initiatives and had looked up the history of the community where the school is located (i.e. addressing the Elephant in the Room: are there black people in Central Washington, or would my moving there significantly change the statistics).

The two interviews about which I was most nervous, were the last two. After all, the VP has the final hiring decision. And anyone with any sense knows that if the Staff aren't happy, the School isn't happy (universal truth). Overall, the VP was most concerned about my ABD status. I explained that my degree progress was kind of hindered by an 18 month freak out over my fibroid, followed by employment instability and criminal assaults on my home. But I am sick of being ABD and am making steady progress (even though, I admit I've been a bit bad about communicating with my committee). I will graduate by summer. It's time to move on. He agreed.

With the staff and other faculty, there was pretty much one person who grilled me the most. Which makes sense, since she's the interim program director and was instrumental in the school winning the grant.

But, as luck would have it, there was another Search Committee meeting a half hour after this last interview started (this one for a Provost), so we cut my last interview a bit short.

As I drove home, racing to beat the incoming storm (I made it ... barely), I realized that in the course of the day, there were many folks who made comments like, "When you come.." or "Oh, you'll want to work with so-and-so...," you know, like I had the job already. But I didn't let it go to my head. After all, this was a position I almost didn't apply for because I'd thought it was out of my league. It took getting the interview and really scrutinizing the expectations of the position for me to realize that I am totally suited for it. But I worried: if my initial suspicion was that the job was beyond me, what did they think?

But, I did not have a lot of time to worry about it.

Thursday:
Between 8:00am and 1:30pm, I had 13 one-on-one student conferences, and taught my lit class. Then I had to go home and grab some professional-looking clothes, because by noon, I had received TWO interviews for the next day at nonprofits in the Bay Area! And not just any nonprofits, but two of the three that had really jazzed me.

So, after grabbing some clothes and patting the cats so hard on the head that Chester actually swiped at me, I broke some serious speed laws to get to my 3:45 flight to San Jose. I got there in time ... just barely, sat in my seat and began drafting Thank You notes to my interviewers from the day before.

But I was a bit confounded. Every time I'd try to write a simple "Thank You," it turned into an action plan, with specific things I would do if given the job. I guess it makes sense, because they need someone who can start asap. But still, it's not like I'd been hired, yet; no need to come across as presumptuous, or desperate. So I changed gears and flipped through Alaska's magazine (now I dream of staying at a lodge on the Copper River).

As we approached San Jose, I looked out the window and was stunned by the cloudless sky, the bright setting sun and the pall of smog. The woman sitting in the row with me made similar observations, and we began chatting about our respective experiences growing up in the valley back when it was mostly orchards. Though she's closer to my mom's age than mine, we had a lovely conversation and I learned that she lives in Selah, a small community a mere 30 minutes away from where I'd interviewed. She'd also graduated from the school, as did her son, and had nothing but wonderful things to say about the experience.

We talked so effortlessly and amiably with each other, that we didn't even notice we had effectively closed the plane, until the flight attendants began to smile at us with a little too much urgency. When we got to the terminal, we exchanged contact info and she offered to be a neighbor and a guide to central Washington, if I do get the job. Oh yeah, and her name is Grace.

When we parted ways, I checked my voicemail. The VP had called me during my flight. I called him back, and got his voice mail and immediately began to panic: Is he calling to tell me that I got the job? Or maybe he needs more information? Or...? So I did what any sane person would do: I called my mom and proceeded to analyze every bit of intonation in his 10 second message.

Then my phone died. What does that mean? Did I get the job, and this is God's way of telling me to chill? Did I not get the job and this is God's way of telling me, "Psych!"

I wasn't any calmer by the time I met up with a dear friend for dinner. But I couldn't freak out too much because I had the finishing touches of a presentation to put together for Saturday and two interviews on Friday.

Friday:
As I organized my notes for the two interviews, I received a call from the VP: I GOT THE JOB!!!!

I was still riding high off of that call, when, like 10 minutes later, I received a call from a third Bay Area nonprofit, FacingHistory.org, offering me an interview with them. The voice of caution in me told me maybe I should go ahead and interview, because until I have a written offer, the offer doesn't legally exist. But when the interviewer explained that their hiring process would take 6 weeks and 3 rounds of interviews, including one at the headquarters in Boston, I turned down the interview. Instead, I turned on the networking. The work that they do resonates with the work done at PSEC, and I plan to put the PSEC director in touch with the new Program Associate in Seattle.

As for the other interviews, the first was very short. He discerned, really quickly, that though the position is for a Research Assistant, my research passions would be better served in academia than as his Girl Friday. But again, I totally respect the work of the organization.

After a brief attempt to walk up Telegraph from Oakland to Berkeley (man, I'd forgotten just how huge the Bay Area is), I caught a bus to Berkeley where I walked around, soaked up some very nice 66 degree sun and plopped down at one of my favorite Berkeley cafes to do some more work.

But as I sat there, alternately people watching and working, I realized ... I am complete with the Bay Area.

I still love the plethora of amazing restaurants and cultural events. I covet the diversity of dance classes. And the sunshine ... my Lord, I was walking around in a tank top in FEBRUARY! Hard to beat.

But when I looked at people going by, you'd think they were all at a funeral. Living in the Bay Area is a hard-scrabble life: it's more crowded than ever, and only getting worse; it's ridiculously expensive (what $650000 buys in Oakland vs. Ellensburg); and it's dirtier. So, I decided: the best way to love the Bay Area, is from afar, with occasional pilgrimages (like for Stern Grove). Nevertheless, I still went to the interview and learned a lot more about the organization. It's definitely a group that I want to support however I can, as they provide basic Green job training for young people and are poised to join the Ella Baker Center's Green Collar Jobs Campaign.

Anyway, the day wrapped up with my friend treating me to yet another dinner and some kick-ass Turkish desserts (I love all things with rose water. Seriously).

Then, at like 11:30 at night, I finally got some substantive feedback from my colleague and tried to finish the PowerPoint for today's presentation. Due to my financial limitations, I wasn't able to register in time, so I will be there virtually. I tried to narrate my presentation, but about 1/3 of the way through, my voice gave out. For some strange reason, my body seems not to like it when I go from a plodding pace to a frenetic one, in the midst of cold and flu season. At any rate, I should find out later today how it went. Right now I am WRECKED.

I need to take a nap and then resume grading. I'm also going to have a double shot of Emergen-C, because I REALLY want to meet the new baby some of my church friends recently had.

Recap:
So yeah, in the last few days I have been blessed with:

• Traveling mercies;
• Four interviews and one seriously awesome job offer;
  
• Providential encounters;
• Time spent with a dear, dear friend; and
  
• Clarity about where my home and heart should be.

Here's hoping that I will shortly be blessed with a soothed throat and perfect health.

Transforming "Maybe" Into "Yes!"

Last night I completed a manifestation collage that represents the major milestones and foci for 2008.

And today, I received an interview invitation for a position I applied for just last night!

Woo hoo!!

Why I Like Spokane

I like Spokane because:

1. Getting from the airport to the Hospital Zone, is effortless with mass transit. One connection - made in a nicely laid-out transportation Plaza with a very cool waterfall, sculpture - was all it required. And, it only cost $1.
2. Madeleine's Cafe and Patisserie provided a truly delicious Feta, Tomato & Olive Quiche that I will have to recreate very, very soon.
3. It is the home of Dr. Steven Brisbois - a truly gifted surgeon, and very kind man. After my HSG, yesterday, he told me that he looked forward to receiving a picture of my yet-to-be-conceived baby. If my husband-to-be agrees, I hope to give our child the name "Steven" or "Stephanie", in gratitude for Dr. Brisbois' skill and patience. Well, maybe as a middle name.
   
4. The people there are SO nice. They make the Seattle Nice pale in comparison.
5. It's always warmer there than it is in Tacoma. Yesterday, Tacoma was in the 50s, while Spokane reached the mid-70s.

In previous visits this summer, I also enjoyed the Riverfront Park and Spokane's proximity to Lake Coeur D'Alene.

All told, it's a town I'd actually like to visit again, though hopefully not for any more medical issues.

Mind Makes Matter

I admit, that in the past, I have let my thoughts and attitude keep me in a funk. Inevitably, I would find myself laden by more funkiness. Even when I thought I was being "responsible" by taking inventory of the mess where I was, so often I would find myself burdened by even more crap.

This was especially true when I was diagnosed with the fibroid. I could not believe that my body would betray me so completely, that God would further complicate my mid/quarter-life crisis, that the universe would be so cruel. Self-pity, anger, confusion, defeatism were my norm for quite awhile. Followed quickly by over-compensation and drastic measures.

In the midst of all of this externalization of blame and salvation, I began to gradually direct attention to my inner life: the type of thoughts I was having; the dreams I was nurturing; as well as the dreams I was stifling. I began to really notice how I treated my body, as well as how I thought of it. I retreated deep into my self, realizing that for all of the book learning I'd accumulated, I had very little true knowledge of Me.

Through the meditative space of acupuncture, singing hymns from my soul, returning to the gym and finding sanctuary in the sauna, I began to cultivate a different mind-body connection, that I believe laid the foundation for a different mind-life connection.

To be clear. I am not yet a sage. But I think I'm "getting it."

This evening, I decided to kick back a bit and watch "The Secret." A friend of mine in Santa Cruz had recommended it to me some time back. And a co-worker mentioned it earlier this week. Then yesterday, lo and behold, it arrived as part of my latest Netflix trio.

So I watched it. And for the most part, I felt...well...validated. Not because I've managed to live "The Secret" faithfully, but because I am trying to.

At its most basic, it's an argument for positive thinking...and believing. It's not enough to think good thoughts. We have to visualize them, claim them and believe in them with our whole being. We have to live our visions as if they were our present reality, because that is the only way they will be. In "Secret Speak": We must Ask the Universe/God for what we want (on a profound level, not a mere material level), then Believe that our request was heard and is in the process of being granted. Lastly, we must Receive the feeling and experience of our answered prayer, not in the future...but now.

Rather than phrase this as a list of everything I'm no good at, I will say that I am working on my visualization strategies and my faith. The visualization I do best when I collage, crochet or garden. And so, I've resumed work on a couple of collages that I started in April 2006. I make a point of working on the baby blanket that I started for my godson (who is now almost seven), and have rededicated to the child I will someday carry, bear and raise. And the garden, I plan to spend some quality time with this weekend.

I am inspired by two statements made in the film:

1. Your current state of affairs is not who you are, it's who you were.
2. Good thoughts are 100 times more powerful than bad thoughts.

I'm not going to make a list of all the things that continue to be off-kilter. I recognize that they are residuals from a very trying 18 months. Rather, I am refocusing on where I want to go and who I want to be.

I have faith that God has given me enough strength to complete the "how's" that will manifest on my journey. I'm not sitting on my laurels, expecting God (The Original Mr/Ms Universe) to magically teleport me from my current state of affairs to my vision. Increasingly, I'm learning that believing in and receiving goodness are actions.

I have to DO my belief. I have to LIVE my gratitude. After all, mind makes matter.

On Hospital Food & Other Missteps on the Road to Recovery

Wow. I've neglected this blog for over a month.

Shame on me.

Mea culpa.

Where is my whip?

But then, I did have a laparoscopic myomectomy two weeks ago with Dr. Stephen "Steady Hands" Brisbois in Spokane (read about it here).

And for the most part, my recovery has been frickin' awesome.

Except for one...itty...bitty...thing...

Food.

One would think that hospitals would be the place to be for healthy, wholesome food, what with their need to sustain scores of sick and injured people who really don't need anymore problems.

But no. After my operation, my first "meal" was chicken broth, saltine crackers, Lipton hot tea and Ocean Spray Cranberry Juice. I took one, tentative sip of the chicken broth and had to push it away: it practically screamed MSG. I also passed on the tea (is it wise for me to drink caffeine while at the same time taking Oxycodin?). And the "juice" would have been better labeled as "Cranberry-Colored Sugar Water." The saltines became my new best friend. I devoured them with the grace of Cartman at a food buffet. In fact, crackers were pretty much all I ate for about 12 hours.

For breakfast, I was served utterly tasteless Cream of Wheat and canned peaches in syrup, along with some orange juice laden with Miralax. The Breakfast of Champions.

That would, perhaps, explain why after I was discharged from the hospital, I decided that what I really needed for dinner was a burger. Granted, I'd lost like 1/2 a pint of blood in surgery the day before. So I was feeling a little blood-thirsty.

But suffice to say...I chose poorly. And the road-trip home didn't help matters any.

Would it kill freeway food establishments to serve some fresh fruits and veggies? Is there any establishment along the I-90 corridor for whom the oven or the steamer basket hold a higher place of honor than say...the deep fryer? Granted, I spent most of the ride strung out on Oxycodin and therefore might have overlooked the roadside Garden of Eden. But, I have my doubts since I completed the Spokane-Tacoma road trip this week as well (for my first post-op appointment) and I didn't see anything.

At any rate, since getting home, I've been better. But the small issue of unemployment has undermined some of my hippie diet efforts. Thankfully, we have a Winco nearby with really affordable raw almonds and pitted dates in bulk. These items, along with agave nectar, vanilla, and sea salt allow me to make my own oh-so-delicious almond milk. It has the consistency of cow's milk, with a subtly sweet flavor and is a variation on the "Velvety Dessert Milk" in Alive in 5, one of the cookbooks to the right.

At any rate, I'm feeling MUCH better, now that the fibroid is gone: many, many, many thanks to my surgeon; but NO thanks to the hospital "chef."

Mischief Managed

In the weeks since my first lap myomectomy attempt went sour, I have not been myself. I have been bits of myself:

• The Dreamer - entrepreneurial planning
• The Dutiful Servant - participating in a brainstorming session for the school where I taught last year, but for which I do not yet have a contract
• The Scholar - periodically working on my dissertation, thanks in LARGE part to my amazing writing group
• The Flirt - testing the waters of online and old-fashioned dating
• The Bitch - yeah...I said it, I can be very, very bitchy when given the right (wrong?) provocation
• The Geek - re-reading three Harry Potter books, waiting in line for nearly 2 hours to watch the latest HP film on IMAX, and practically flinging myself into the arms of the UPS guy when he brought The Deathly Hallows
• The Glutton - I seriously fell off the Happy Hippie Diet wagon in the last two weeks. If it was fried, meaty, sugary or processed it probably ended up in my mouth more often than my 80-20 rule allows (80% good stuff; 20% S.A.D. [Standard American Diet - thanks Dr. W])
  
• The Nervous Wreck - suffice to say that unemployment, health issues, housing issues and ... well ... issues in general, do not a happy Karen make, especially when I have Lupron (the menopause faking, mood swinging, fibroid shrinking drug-o-choice of myomectomy-performing surgeons) making my life oh...so...interesting.

I have been all of this and more, at various times and in various combinations. But I have not been anywhere close to my best self.

But I am working on it. And getting better at it. Starting with going back to the gym more than once last week (3 times, actually, including TWO cycle classes). And eating MUCH better (my digestive tract had really grown accustomed to my high-fiber, whole food diet and pretty much mutinied against my taste buds and feeble willpower). I'm also trying to sleep more (though Saturday was an exception given my reading marathon and a birthday party at which I had to make an appearance). And I've cleaned A LOT of my house (formerly known as The Sty-o-Shame). But best of all, I have rediscovered a part of my old best self, The Organizer. I have begun making, ticking off and sticking to weekly & daily To-Do lists. I must be a little Type A, because this simple system is making me more productive and happier than I have been in a VERY long time.

Like riding a bike

Transforming one's life for the better sure is hard work.

Especially when you lose your job ... and your roommate, and you have to switch to COBRA in$urance, and the in$urance company balks at paying for a procedure you need, and your car isn't getting sold, and your body wigs out because of the medication you are on & all the stress you are under, and your dream job (owning your own cafe) is both overwhelming and the only thing that has really put a smile on your face in years...

So yeah... in the last two weeks I have fallen off the hippie wagon (bye-bye pescovegetarianism, hello culinary therapy at Tamarind Tree) and damn near fell apart (Hot flashes and mood swings? In rapid, overlapping succession? Lupron...I hate you).

But thank God it's Monday. A new week and new beginning. To "celebrate" I returned to the cycle class at my gym, and unlike my effort last month, I managed to complete the whole class! I bought more beet juice and cranberry juice. I made a really tasty veggie pizza with fresh zucchini & basil from my garden, on a gluten-free crust. Small steps in the right direction; but "steps" nonetheless.

In general though, I find this whole journey to be VERY hard. It's not just a matter of changing what I eat or how I get around. It's really a whole different relationship to time.

It takes time to cook from scratch. Even with the right recipes or even raw cuisine. It takes time to coordinate travel plans via public transportation, & even more time to use it. Which is why, I suppose, I have only done so when I took the bus back from the airport and to Tacoma's July 4th Freedom Fair.

I have to admit, as a dyed-in-the-wool procrastinator, the time thing is not my forte. And as a stubborn only child who seems to grow more stubborn with each passing day, the whole "change thing" is a real pain in the ass. Kind of like Kreacher's reaction to being willed to Harry. But I digress.

The point is... I think I'm better with making changes when they come one-at-a-time, not all-at-once. And with all of the flux and uncertainty around my financial, professional, entrepreneurial, academic, and health needs and goals... well...damn it... I just feel like I'm too busy spinning and losing my bearings rather than making a coherent change for the better.

Common Sense Hippiedom v. New Age Narcissism

Wow... I have REALLY been a.w.o.l. from this blog.

It's "funny" how much time and energy the end of the term, end of the school year, end of my teaching contract and end of my roommate's lease have taken up.

I'm "a little" stressed at the moment. I suppose unemployment, combined with health issues, and the loss of my supplementary income (roommate) are making me a little crazed. That and the lovely side effects of the Lupron I am taking to help shrink my fibroid for operation number two.

That's why I am VERY glad I'd booked a trip to Santa Cruz months ago, for last week. Southwest had a crazy fare sale, and it only cost me $70 round-trip to go back to Cali for five days.

I spent a surprisingly small amount of money while there, thanks in large part to my friends' generous hospitality. But also, I realized that there was very little about Santa Cruz that I missed, and therefore little incentive to spend like a credit-crazed nut-job.

Santa Cruz is way too expensive for what you get. I mean, the Rite Aid charged $11 for a generic 5 subject notebook!

And the town is a little over-stuffed with New Age Narcissists, the majority of whom were (at one point I'm sure) well-meaning, Agape-Gaia loving hippies.

Back when they were hippies, they articulated a solid dose of common sense:

• pay attention to what you put in and on your body, who makes it and under what conditions;
  
• the Golden Rule is a universal maxim, best embraced by all;
  
• the environment matters, because without it, we're all dead.

Just good, common sense.

But then some of them went off the deep end.

In the pursuit of deeper, more "authentic" truths, some folks cultivated a special knack for gourmand navel-gazing. They borrowed lingo and practices from every non-white tradition they could find and/or "discovered" they were one of the exponentially-improbable heirs of the Druids or the Gaels; but it all seemed to serve the higher purpose of ... the Cult of Me. What do I want? What is my purpose, independent of others? What is my journey?

Don't get me wrong. These are good questions. Vital questions that we all need to examine as we live out our lives. I just take issue with the over-emphasis on the "I" to the point of selfishness. The myth of New Age Narcissism that I remembered and witnessed in Santa Cruz, is the myth of the self-made wo/man who is not beholden to silly little things like social mores, loyalty and genuine generosity of spirit.

The poster child par excellence of this is K, a guy I once dated (that's my pathetic disclosure), and who went on to date and totally head-f*ck my dear friend, M (who, ironically, I met through K - that's my happy disclosure).

I admire folks who manage their resources well, and always seem to have enough time, money and sanity to live a well-balanced life. I aspire to that myself, having fallen off of ALL of those wagons to varying degrees over the years. I used to think K was like that. But then I got to know him. K is stingy - with his time, money and emotional availability. When I met him, I didn't really care as I was rebounding and was really only interested in a good time. But the times with K really weren't all that good. Then I began to care more about his stinginess as I got to know M better, and saw the toll his crap was taking on her. Sure, she could've left him and not gone back. But Santa Cruz is one VERY small town, and in a lot of ways, K was one of the better options.

I also admire folks who know how to set boundaries, so that they don't end up over-extended. But there is a clear difference between "boundaries" and "the Great Wall of China." K is a wall-builder. Inside his wall, is a little boy trying to figure out how much money, property, and tight young ass he can amass, while outside the wall there's ... well who cares, it's outside the wall. Unfortunately, M was outside the wall.

And it all came to a head when he made a proposal-that-wasn't that actually trumped the proposal-that-wasn't I had received from a wall-builder I dated back-in-the-day.

Finding himself in a potentially sticky tax dilemma ($45k liability) with the impending sale of his house, K suggested to M that they should get married, as that would significantly lessen the tax hit. He would give her $8k "for nothing" and once the paperwork went through and a reasonable time had passed...they could get divorced. Uh...yeah. Just what his girlfriend of four years wanted to hear. As if his earlier suggestions that they have an open relationship (all the rage in Santa Cruz, you see) didn't already convey the scope of his selfishness, he then turns around and does this. WTF?!

But here's the clincher. M is the one who feels guilty. For actually expecting a commitment. For daring to think that she deserves a relationship with someone who actually thinks with his heart, instead of just his wallet or his dick. And it doesn't help that so many of the Santa Cruz N.A.N.-crowd suggest that perhaps she should just learn to embrace an open relationship and not take things so much to heart. Let him "bring the energy home," they suggest. Which is double-speak for, "let him bring his girl-toy home, and you can enjoy it/her together." Shame on M for not being inclined to share.

Eck! Eck! Eck! And yet, as annoyed as I got with the K saga, I managed to have a nice time in Santa Cruz thanks to a $15 private tub and sauna, delicious food and hanging out with M, who had a lot of other things to talk about other than N.A.N. K.

Now I get that the B.S. with K tickles some raw spots in my own emotional baggage handler. I also get that in the time it has taken me to write this, I have had two lupron-induced hot flashes and am vacillating between tears, nausea and feminazi fury. But even taking these "little issues" into consideration, I still think he is a textbook example of New Age Narcissism, and why, so often it does more harm than good.

And with that, I'm going to lie down.

Week in Review: Week One

A New Pact

I'm an omnivore. Plain and simple. I get that the amount of grain and water used to feed cattle, piggies and chickens could be used for better purposes. But I can’t deny the carnivorous beast that pricks my spine every time I smell frying bacon, grilled steak or coq au vin.

So, rather than sabotage my transformation before it even gets really started, I decided to allow myself two meat days per month: one for poultry or pork; the other for red meats (preferably buffalo or lamb). On the other 26-29 days of the month, I will get my protein from vegetables and fish. Pescovegetarianism, here I come! Well, except for those two days a month.

It's an imperfect pact for an imperfect woman. But I have to start somewhere and I fully intend to make sure my two animal protein days only use organic and free-range animals.

It's beets, not blood

Even before committing to developing this blog, I began seriously delving into the first part of my Accidental Hippie plan: taking better care of my body, so that my body takes better care of me.

I revisited the archives of the Uterine Fibroids and Healing For Fibroids Naturally Yahoogroups, and finally began reading Dr. Warshowsky's Healing Fibroids, and began to integrate some of the things I was learning about into my diet.

Apparently beets (sometimes combined with molasses) has been used in ethnic medical treatments for fibroids, with some success. UNFORTUNATELY, having never eaten beets before, I was unpleasantly surprised to discover their effects on certain body wastes. Asparagus reeks havoc with number one; and beets bedizen number two.

What was pleasant to discover was that unsweetened cranberry juice combined with beet juice makes a rather nice drink. I now try to have it before every meal. Beet juice can be a little spendy ($6 for a 120z bottle at Marlene's). But it looks like my garden beets are doing well, so soon I'll be able to make my own juice.

The Garden

As I am still recovering from my surgery, there's not much yard work I can do, even though there is MUCH I need to do:

But I am happy to say that my organic raised beds are coming along nicely. I have found that if I take things slowly, I can still get down and savor the triumphant rush of weeding. My next garden project: getting the worm compost bin up and running. I bought one during last summer's disastrous retail therapy, and promptly neglected it. But now that my fruit and veggie intake is climbing, it makes sense to resurrect the worms (or, more accurately, buy some new ones).

Easy Omega-3s

Prior to last week, I had a habit of eating flax meal only when I had applesauce or Soy Cream's Very Cherry Chocolate Chip. This week, I discovered that I can add flax seed to mashed potatoes for a rather nice and subtle nutty flavor. I've also added flax meal to my new weekday morning routine: fruit smoothies. But perhaps the Omega-3 discovery of which I am most proud, is the Copper River Salmon sushi I made with my dissertation group buddy on Wednesday. Sure, I now understand why brown rice rarely shows up in sushi. But that just means that the next time I make it (likely this evening, I will make the rice mixture 2 parts sushi rice, 1 part brown rice).

Smoothies in the morning help the commute pass by

I used to drive to work with a mug of molasses tea and some sort of muffin in my lap. This week, I began using the blender to make smoothies: frozen berries + cranberyy/beet juice blend + prune juice + flax meal + almond milk (I use Pacific's Almond Milk because I'm lactose intolerant) = VERY good! By the time I get to work, I've finished the smoothie and simply wash out the bottle and fill it with filtered water at work

Stocking up: some pre-hippie rules STILL apply, like DON'T SHOP WHILE HUNGRY

On Thursday, after my acupuncture appointment, I made a pilgrimage first to Marlene's, then to Trader Joe's. I brought a list, which was good. But I also brought an appetite, which was not so good. The damage: Marlene's - $83.61, and five items not on my list (I bought 28 items), including a seriously yummy raw peanut butter and honey bar ; Trader Joe's - $75.65 and three items not on my list (out of 28 items), including the oh-so-good Sharon's Coconut Sorbet.

Minor relapse: Consequences of impulse-purchasing; and ye ole "Well, I've got to clean out the refrigerator" excuse, or how I ate two hot dogs as a "snack"

Friday morning began with me being a very good girl: nutritious smoothie and packing my lunch. Unfortunately, my lunch was one of the impulse buys from Thursday: Morningstar's BBQ Riblets. Sure, it's soy-based and soy in moderate amounts is very good for my overall health and my efforts to get rid of Fi. But a soy-based product doused in seriously delicious, sugary badness? Not so much. I tried to "make it up" to myself by adding flax seeds to the mashed potatoes I made to go with it. But still, this was clearly a relapse.

And it was aggravated when I got home later in the afternoon: tired and hungry. I looked in the fridge and two relics stared out at me: left-over hot dogs.

I was torn. Do I toss them, and thereby waste them? Or do I eat them and have today count as one of my two meat days for the month?

I ate them.

Treat of the Week:
Sharon's coconut sorbet with fresh strawberries and flax meal

In The Beginning...

In some ways, it’s a misnomer to call this blog “The Accidental Hippie.” After all, it’s not like I woke up one morning and found myself in itchy tie-dye, cradling a hookah and a poorly groomed stranger.

In fact, I have long considered myself a Champagne Hippie, favoring good food, fine wine and comfortably elegant fashion & housewares – just as long as they're mostly organic and socially responsible (i.e. less sweatshops and factory pharming; more artisans and free-range husbandry, s’il vous plait).

But there were some things that I just could not bring myself to do, some changes that were just too hard to make.

But in the last year, and particularly in the last couple of weeks, I received a swift kick in the pants. Meet my "inner necessity":

No, this is not a cornish game hen. This is my uterus (dark pink mass on top) with a very large intramural fibroid (the lighter pink, veiny monstrosity at the bottom). Last week I drove to Spokane to have it removed, but when my surgeon got inside and saw this, he realized that in 30+ years of practice, he'd never seen anything quite like it. I'm "kind of" adamant about not losing my uterus (because I really want kids, hormonal balance, bladder control and uterine orgasms); but my doctor wasn't sure he could guarantee that. So instead, he stitched a couple of arteries feeding Fi, stitched me up and gave me a shot of Lupron. The new plan: hopefully shrink it over the next three months and try the operation again in August.

So, what does this have to do with my becoming an Accidental Hippie?

EVERYTHING

Fibroids apparently flourish when women don't get enough fiber, eat too much sugar, and have unresolved mind-body-spirit issues. So, after Fi was diagnosed in April 06, I began to sort of half-ass my way to a better lifestyle: I joined a gym and saw a trainer twice a month; ate mostly organic fruits & veggies; integrated flax meal into my diet at least 3 times a week; had weekly acupuncture appointments; joined my parish choir and really did some spiritual "work." But as I stared at the stills and the short video, the only coherent thought I could form was that I hadn't done enough.

In the spirit of Hunter Thompson ("Call on God, but row away from the rocks"), I took stock of my life and recognized three colossal OOPS:

1. When it comes to my body and my health I have way too often, and for way too long, chosen the path of least resistance: minimalism. If it's fast, easy and cheap, I will do it. If it requires a major paradigm and lifestyle shift ... I'll think about it.
2. When I was first diagnosed, I went into a cathartic, but in the end, profoundly counter-productive Do-Mode. I remodeled my kitchen and my office, only contracting out the plumbing and electrical work. But I financed all this change with a home equity loan, Home Depot credit and the credit cards I had just paid off when I refinanced. Beyond $tupid. Because, of course, these are debts, not windfalls and I have backed myself into a painful corner of high payments and insultingly high interest rates. Casey Serin, I am not. I am in the process of paying it all off, and tightening my belt in standard and creative ways.
3. I have subscribed to Green Guide to Go, Organic Gardening and Natural Home for years, and I am a long-standing Co-Op America member. But the extent to which I have really done my part to help heal the planet has been limited to that which is fast, easy and cheap, with an emphasis on easy and cheap.
   

So, I am making a change.

I suspect it will be full of fits and starts, as well as modest successes. This blog will chronicle my progress and my pitfalls as I try to live a healthier, more fiscally responsible and socially and environmentally sustainable life.