The Privilege of Giving

Gift giving is important to me--not just at Christmas time, but all the time.  I love seeing something that I know will make a friend or family member smile.  It makes me feel happy to think I can make someone else happy and it makes me feel good that I know somebody so well I can do something meaningful for them.  I believe that is how gifts should be--not obligatory, not perfunctory.  I get sad when I'm out and overhear people complaining about buying gifts for 'everyone and their brother' or 'having' to spend the money.  Seriously?  Don't do it.  To me, the ability to pay attention enough to somebody's life to purchase them a gift is in itself a gift.  The privileged gift of friendship. 

Last year, I couldn't even afford to get everyone in my family a gift.  I was so upset...I cried and cried.  It was really hard for me, even though, of course, family members didn't really care.  But it is a way for me to express how much I care and I couldn't do it.  I did other things, but I still really love having a 'thing' to wrap up and put under the tree...something wanted, something they'd never spend their own money on, a secret wish, help with a dream...that's a gift to me.  A gift card can be a gift, if it is to a place rarely afforded or for a specific thing very much desired.  My kids love getting book store gift cards because the trip to the store, the selection of the books, is at least as much fun as the actual book itself.  But there's thought there--the knowledge that a book is a treasure and the the trip will be a treasure too. 

This year my financial situation is better and I feel better.  There won't be stacks and stacks of gifts, but the ones I have I know will be loved and that is the whole point.  Remember the privilege of giving a gift--savor the selection, think fondly of the person you are gifting and enjoy the process.  Merry Christmas everyone!

Quad Shot Espresso--To Go

Tis the holiday season, which means the Social Calendar is busy.  Sometimes double-booked.  Tomorrow, I have my office Christmas party AND a very dear friend's poker party.  I shall be attending both, since I can go to the office party, be sedate and attempt a certain level of appropriateness and then head off to play poker and be, well, me.  So the tradition with the poker parties is everybody brings food and there is usually a theme.  Tomorrow night there will be Italian food and I am bringing Chocolate-Espresso Swirl Cheesecake. 

I had to stop off at the grocery store to pick up a couple of items (including, although I didn't know it, vanilla...sigh) and I decided to swing into me local coffee shop and pick up some espresso for the espresso swirl portion of cheesecake-palooza. 

You know you're in Seattle when:  it's after 8 on a Friday night and the coffee shop is packed.  The barista was older--by older I mean 'older than 16' and was clearly thoroughly enjoying herself.  I waited in line and when I reached the front she asked me what I wanted. "I'm not really sure." I replied.  This got her attention.  I mean, most people know down to the temperature of the beverage EXACTLY what they want.  She kind of raised an eyebrow at me--there was a line after all--so I began to explain.

"I'm cooking with it.  I need it to be super strong and flavorful."

"Cooking....ahhhhhh....hmmm, well let's see."  She thought about it for a minute and then said "You know, you could try our Via product...my sister made brownies and added it as a powder and they were fan-tastic."
"Really?" I said, suddenly distracted from cheesecake with the thought of espresso brownies.  The next three people in line were suddenly Very Intrigued  and the fourth person back said "Did you say chocolate-espresso cheesecake??" 

This is how I roll:  I talk to people, I engage in conversation....we had the entire shop discussing espressos and the pros and cons of cooking with liquid versus the powder (the recipe calls for liquid) and whether or not the chocolate was sweet (no, it's unsweetened).  We all also talked about brownies, adding said powder to cake recipes, chili, and a mole sauce.  I shared the cheesecake recipe off the top of my head with a couple of people recording this into their phones.  Much good cheer and happiness occurred, and I got out of there with a quad shot of espresso (technically all the coffee of a quad shot, but the added water of a double...) at no charge.  A fair trade for a good recipe, I was told.

Now the chocolate-espresso swirl cheesecake is in the oven.  Mmmmmmmmmmmm!  Can't wait for poker :)

You and Me and Never We: A series of complicated almost interactions

She had known him for sixteen years.  And although everything about him was perfect for her, their timing had never been right...or even close to right.  So she enjoyed him for what he was, and continued hoping that all of his characteristics would arrive in the form of someone she could be with.

She had been Quite Young when they first met.  She was newly married and already pregnant and working full time in a field dominated by men.  She was, however, an expert in her field, and it was in this capacity that she met him.  She waddled into a meeting prepared to make a presentation to a roomful of guys who would be taking on a huge project overseas.  She was not at all prepared for the effect he had on her.  She could not drop the gaze of his deep blue eyes, and she found it odd that she was noticing her heart rate.  She found it vaguely disconcerting that she should be having risque thoughts about a man other than her husband, even though he was already disappointing in many ways.  She tried to concentrate on the business at hand.  It was not uncommon for smarty comments to be exchanged and this was no exception.  It was sort of a rite of passage...a test to see if she was 'one of the guys' or if she would puddle into female offense.  She rose to the challenge and earned the laughter--and attention--of the room.  He smiled at her quick wit, and listened to her presentation, asking insightful questions.  They worked together closely over the next couple of months, and she could tell he was taken aback that he had strong feelings for her, despite her marital status.  She kept telling herself that it was just the nature of the project that had her thinking of this handsome, single man so many hours of the day and night.  The project launched, and he was off.  She continued on with her life, but continued to think of him fondly and every so slightly inappropriately.

Eight years later, they were assigned to another project together at work.  This time he was in the leading role, and she was support, having scaled back her hours significantly as a working mother.  Her marriage was now in its final stages, although she had not yet accepted that in her heart.  She walked into a meeting and there he was.  Her heart raced as it had all those years previously.  She was thrilled at the ease that they slipped into a close working relationship.  He was as smart as ever and had that same wit she remembered.  They could seamlessly switch from serious, in-depth work strategy sessions to reviewing the latest rock album that they both enjoyed.  But while her personal life was crumbling, his was perking up.  He had a serious relationship, although he rarely discussed 'the girlfriend' with her.  Once, she met 'the girlfriend' and had a difficult time handling the jealousy.  How ridiculous was that?  Jealous....and he wasn't even hers to begin with!  The easy camaraderie...the give and take...this THIS is what she had thought a marriage would be like.  How could she have this with a colleague??  But life intervened again, and she left the project due to family considerations.  And he ultimately took another project elsewhere too.

And now 7 years after that, he had reappeared.  Only this time, she was divorced and he was married.  Happily too, from all outward appearances.  And yet again, she immediately slipped into a very familiar and close working relationship.  She could tell that both of them felt the tension, and they both knew that if they gave in, it would be the end of everything.  So she kept her feelings to herself, worked with him, day in and day out, hearing tales of his Perfect Family Life and wishing that she could find his clone....to keep for herself. 

For all these years, he had been The One that she had measured all other men against.  He had everything she wanted and needed--he was intelligent, funny in a twisted way, had an edge revealed only to his nearest and dearest, handsome and deliciously male.  And still, unavailable to her.

Being Fat in America

Five years ago, in an early step to reclaim my life, I had weight-loss surgery.  It was, hands down, one of the best decisions I ever made.  Losing weight brought sharply into focus how much I was beating myself up and letting others belittle me just based on my physical size.  Never mind that at a size 24 I exercised 2 hours a day six days a week and was actually in better condition than most skinny people.  Never mind that my blood pressure and blood sugar was not only normal, but on the low side of normal.  Never mind that I had energy to spare and never got sick because I was actually quite 'healthy'.  In fact, 'skinny me' needs to get on an exercise schedule and stick to it in order to feel better, have better energy and combat the blues.  None of that matters when all anyone can see is a fat person.

Americans are obsessed with size.  Not health--size.  If we were obsessed with health, super-skinny bordering on anorexic stars wouldn't be idolized.  If you are fat, people assume you are lazy.  And stupid.  And somehow lesser than anyone else.  They feel free to make comments to you about what you purchase at the grocery store, or how you look in clothes.  Or to say things like "you have such a pretty face, too bad you're overweight."  No matter how mentally strong you are, constantly hearing this takes a huge psychic toll.  I very much took on board that somehow I deserved to be treated as a lesser human being because I was overweight.  I accepted less from my employers, my marriage, and worst of all, myself.  Why people find it necessary to belittle others is beyond me; and in our culture it is very much acceptable to put down, mock and otherwise degrade those who are overweight.  Why this small-minded attitude is allowed to persist I simply do not understand.

Being thin, though, is not a panacea.  It has just stripped away the 'fat excuse' from everything that was not right in my life.  It exposed my marriage for the fraud that it was--a painful thing, but a good thing for all of us involved.  It gave me a confidence boost to take the steps needed to start down a trail on my own--this trail is scary and I am not convinced I can do it, but at this point I have no choice (failure is not an option) and I do sincerely believe I am a better person, friend, and mother for stepping outside my safety zone, breaking the socially acceptable box I was firmly ensconsed in.  Looking back though, I am astonished at how easy it was to let me size be the excuse for inaction.  Doctors see an obese person and don't look for any underlying causes to health issues--the assumption is that losing weight will fix it all.  Guess what?  I'm still suffering from depression.  And my knees are still painful if the weather is changing or I sit still too long (like at work).  But now, I can get health care providers to listen, because the assumption is not that if I just lost weight the problem would be resolved. 

I challenge all of you to look past someone's size.  To catch yourself making the negative stereotypical assumptions about somebody because of their weight.  Are there lazy fat people?  Heck yeah!!  But not every fat person is lazy...give a person a chance to prove their worth--or prove their lack of worth--outside of what size pants they put on.  And, I encourage everyone, regardless of size, to focus on health.  Eat well and heartily of nutrient rich foods, exercise daily to keep disease at bay and blood flowing well through your muscles.  Be content in who you are, believe in yourself, really listen to your body and soul and take the steps that you need to take to be the best person you can be.  If we all did that, can you imagine how beautiful this world could become?

I Don't Like Mondays

You know how some Mondays are just ever so much more Monday-ish than other  Mondays?  Yeah....this was one of those Mondays.  After a couple of weeks of glorious weather, today the rain started in and while as a true Northwesterner I find rain comforting, to have it start in earnest on a Monday...well, just added to the whole Monday-ishness  going on.  Everyone was in a Monday mood at work...clients, coworkers, supervisors.  Bleeccch.  If it is possible to trudge quickly through one's work, that's what I did--I got a heckuva lot accomplished, and yet it all felt trudgey and dirge-like.  A coffee-spilling, toothpaste-splattering, stocking-snagging, lunch-forgetting, puddle-stepping, type WITH THE CAPS LOCK ON kind of day.  As I filled out forms to fill out forms and emailed forms to be filled out and filled out email forms to complete forms to be emailed and corrected previously filled out and emailed forms and e-filed them in 37 different root directories and files and databases and e-folders so that they could possibly be retrieved at some later date to fill out other forms to be emailed elsewhere upon request of an emailed and completed form....somewhere in there a little spark of me started designing and landscaping and decorating The Perfect House For Me.  I have No Earthly Idea if this house can or will exist other than in the slightly crazed recesses of my mind, but it was fabulously distracting thinking about 12 foot ceilings, fireplaces, warm tiled bathroom floors, rugs, leather upholstery, warm colors, that welcome home feeling when you open the door, not like you've just walked into a museum but like its a place to live and love. 

I love having a warm kitchen.  I love having sweets available for my kids.  It's a basic need for me, I think, to feed other people, especially offspring.  It's so satisfying to cook for other people.  It's just no fun to cook for one person.  Even when it gets boring and repetitive cooking the same favorites over and over (if, for example one happened to have extremely picky eaters.  Or, say one's children prefer to get their vitamins from Brightly Colored Cartoon Vitamins the way God intended.)  And so, on this Oh So Mondayest of Mondays, with rain and trudging and Cooking The Same Old Thing...somehow, everything was All Right.  My kids are happy and fed.  The kitchen is clean.  The house is quiet.  Monday is over. 

It's The End of the World as We Know it....

One of the things I simply must have to live is music.  If you're not this kind of person, you won't understand, but to me music is as necessary as air or water.  Music is also a deeply personal thing, I believe--what speaks to me may not speak to you at all or may even grate on your ears.  Music can resonate in your soul, make you feel alive, help you work through issues, bring swiftness and joy to your step.  For me, also, it is a marker in life.  I immediately return to junior high when listening to Styx or AC/DC.  I can remember exactly where I was the first time I heard The Sex Pistols, U2, Nirvana...the music so electrified my spirit it left a permanent mark on my life.

Prominently featured in the soundtrack of my life is the band REM.  Therefore, for me, it was a sad thing to learn this week that they had officially decided to disband.  No, they hadn't done much lately, but they were still together and the possibility still existed for more music.  I have had all of their albums (although some I have literally worn through playing them so often--it is always on my list to get some of the earlier work on CD), having fallen in love with the REM sound starting with Radio Free Europe.  I remember singing at the top of my lungs to "I am Superman" and "The One I Love"--and thinking that the woman they used in that video looked a lot like my very dear friend who had known the band from her college radio days in Florida when REM was just starting out.  I went to the 'Monster' tour with my bestest friends--7 months pregnant with my second son.  My least favorite album was their most commercially successful (Out of Time).  It merely spoke to me less than their other work.  When 'Accelerate' came out, critics complained that there was nothing 'groundbreaking' about it--to me that was its beauty.  Yes, a lot of the songs seemed familiar--it was like putting on your favorite pair of jeans--totally worn in, thoroughly comfortable, perfect and just for you. 

I wish all the guys--Peter, Michael, Mike, and Bill-- the very best in life.  And thank you.  Thank you for the great songs, the good times, the shoulder to cry on, the happiness to wrap myself in.  Because of you, REM, I believe in the Man On The Moon....

Pumpkin Bread and Cute Guys at the Farmers' Coop

Let me just start with THANK GAWD this week is over.  Work was hellacious.  I am reminded again that gee, I am just not passionate about payment processing.  (I know, you're all shocked by this revelation, but its true).  I am so ready to let my brain wander aimlessly, meander through side roads, think frivolously, all that stuff that I love to do and can't figure out how to get someone to pay me for...
I am somewhat in a Food Coma as we had a potluck at work today to usher in fall.  I made some pumpkin bread, because really...is there anything more autumnal than that?  Maybe acorn squash, but...you get my point.  (note to self, purchase acorn squash and bake with buttah and brown sugah....).  Nibbled all day long on yumtastic stuff brought in...meatballs, a hot and spicy queso dip, chicken tortilla soup.  And yet right now...the oven is going baking the ears of corn so they don't get icky.  And I'll probably chow on one of them.  That's how i roll. 
After work it was time to pick up 'the share' from our local farmers coop (I live in a house with a high school friend--both of us divorced and doing our best in this wretched economy--and she purchased a 'share' from our local farmers coop which entitles her to an abundance of fresh veggies and herbs every week of the season)...Twas an absolutely beautiful day today, kind of muggy and the wind is bizarre (seems to not be able to make up its mind which direction to come from and whether or not to blow at all) stopping off to pick out delicious fresh produce is about as delightful a chore as one can have.  So we're looking at all the yummies, and I'm in front of the tomatoes and the sign says that we can either take 4 large tomatoes or 4 boxes of small ones.  (you know, those little green boxes like at a grocery store).  This seems odd...4 boxes would be alottatomatas, so I asked the Cute Guy standing there selecting his produce for clarification (he is shy and is slightly startled at my, um, lack of shyness, but he is nice and genuine and conversation ensues posthaste)...we go through the whole, geez 4 boxes would be alottatomatas routine and then I asked one of the proprietresses to be sure, and she said "yep, four boxes...in fact, just take as many tomatoes as you want, we're harvesting tomatoes like crazy this week..." Yes, that's right, it's TomatoPalooza at the organic farm.   Yes, I said that out loud, you know you aren't surprised--and I'm happy because I do love tomatoes. Cute Guy is psyched by this as well, as the tomatoes are quite fabulous.  So then, Farm Proprietress says they have some huge tomatoes that split when picked that they can't put out for regular selling but were selling for $8 for thirteen pounds and they'd be great for sauce or salsa....Cute Guy is all over this and talking about making sauce.  We decide let's do it too!  Spend the weekend filling the freezer with lotsalotsa tomatasauce.  How fun will this be????  Got some fresh fennel too (and discussed with Cute Guy how fennel tastes like black licorice--also shared some cooking techniques for collard greens; he's a cooker that Cute Guy!!)  Kind of hope that Cute Guy is there again next week....might even ask him his name. 
In the meantime, Sauce is the order of the weekend!  mmmmmmmm......

Baseball Bleacher Butt

After work this evening I spent a couple of hours at my local ball park watching #3 son at baseball practice. Here in Washington, fall is a waaaaay better time of year for baseball than spring (I have spent countless spring days freezing and shivering, with an umbrella that is practically useless turning into a Mom-sicle at various baseball practices and games). Fall ball is more relaxed, more about honing skills and keeping them sharp, learning new stuff, trying out different positions... and this year, we went from being the oldest and biggest kid on the team to being the youngest and smallest (ah those age group jumps are killer). Ry's league age is 13 (he won't actually be 13 until January) so he's playing with the guys up to age 17. This presents a rather motley assortment of teenage boys...some have grown, some haven't. But, it's a team, and they do all work well together. This is my 10th year as a baseball mom...deliciously ironic if you enjoy that sort of thing. You see, I very much dislike baseball. Never watch it. HUGE football fan, but professional baseball bores me. Naturally, the sport my sons are interested in playing is baseball. (I grumble, but the truth is I like watching my kids play...but don't tell them, I want them to think it's a huge sacrifice for me to be there.)
I don't know if Ryan will play official Little League this year--he can play at his junior high and he wants to, so that may be his game from now on. He's not bad--been a first baseman two years now, and he was the starting first baseman this last Saturday (shocked me--he is the youngest and shortest on the team, but he did a great job). We're at a different level now--a lot of kids play on the select teams. Those have buy-ins of upwards of $3K and then you have to pay for travel during the season. Unfortunately, there's no way I can do that right now. It's bad enough that the bats for kids at his level are $200-$300 and have more engineering than the Space Shuttle. OK, that might be stretching it a bit, but seriously!! Remember when bats were either wooden or aluminum?
This weekend I'll be at yet another baseball game. We might win, we might lose...either way its another chapter in the sporting life of my son. I just hope that when he's older he remembers that his Mom loved him so much she got a major case of bleacher butt every season. Even though his sport of choice was baseball.

Hello...Welcome to my Chaos and Insanity

This is my life. If you would have warned me about this 20 years ago...well, I don't know what I would have done. Probably just not believed you. I find myself in my 40s, divorced, broke, with three fantastic sons, having just reentered the job market with absolutely no idea what to do with myself. I've been employed for about a year and a half now, and believe me, I am grateful beyond words to have a job at all, but...well, let's just say that I am not passionate about my job, and as a passionate person, this is a Serious Problem for me. I need to be passionate about how I spend my time. My job skills are....well, I'm really good at providing an opinion on everything. I'm great at pointing out the ridiculous. Not so good at toeing a party line, or doing things because its the way its always been done. Really bad at doing something without understanding how it fits into a larger scheme (just do it, don't ask questions---wow that will send me right over the edge). Love to help people. Love to improve people's lives. I have started this blog at the urging of lotsa friends. (that's a technical term--sorry to use such jargon on the first post, but you might as well get used to how I write). I used to write an email letter to a whole slew of friends to keep them up-to-date on my life (because, ya know, everybody cares about my life). When FaceBook came along, I embraced it--I'm a military brat and it has been wonderful to see into my scattered friends' lives. However, I stopped with the email letter....much to many people's chagrin. Therefore, I am now officially a blogger. Yesterday, I took my oldest two sons on a road trip out to Eastern Washington. I had a crappy week at work....lots of political drama, some really skeevy clients that I found upsetting, and i wanted to Get Out of Town. I invited my older two (number three son had baseball practise and was therefore ineligible) to accompany me on my Escape and they accepted. Number 1 son is studying at community college and was interested in Central Washington university, so I decided we would stop and check it out. I also wanted to go check out Spokane a little bit--I had just recommended a job to a dear friend there, and suddenly realized I hadn't been there in a good 25-30 years, so I wanted to see it. (side note--can I really afford the gas for this trip?? No, I cannot. However, the mental status I have been in all week justifies the expense. That's my story and I'm stickin to it.) We left fairly early (for teenaged boys) on Saturday morning; I had doughnuts in the car eliciting 'yays' from my offspring...we set off down the road, talking faster than I was driving and laughing. We had just been together the previous evening, but we all love to talk about anything and everything and so we did. It was raining a little bit, (shocking for Washington, I know) but we thought it was a beautiful day and took notice of everything passing us by. As we crossed over Snoqualmie pass, I asked Alex if he remembered when he took skiing lessons when he was little and he barely did...but was intrigued that we were passing by where this had occurred. On the eastern side of the pass, the terrain changes significantly and we talked about that for a bit. When we arrived in Ellensburg to check out Central, the rain continued to drizzle, but we parked and walked around town anyways. There was a Farmer's Market going on, and we perused that while also taking note around town of several cafes as possibilities for lunch. The campus at Central is beautiful, and Zachary was really excited to see it and to wander around town. When he finishes up his associates degree, this is where he is thinking about attending--its his number one choice and I wanted him to have the opportunity to see it and get a mental picture of where he might be spending a few years. We liked Ellensburg; small enough to walk everywhere you need to go, lots of fun little places to poke your nose into. I could very easily picture Zachary there, and so could he. We wound up not eating in any of the little cafes because they all sounded too foo-foo for Zachary (doesn't any place just have a plain grilled cheese anymore? he grumble-asked) and so headed down the road to see if we could get all the way to Spokane or not. We crossed over the Columbia (semi-seriously Alex queried if we had crossed into Oregon--the bridge is remarkably similar and he was momentarily disoriented) checked out the Wild Horse Monument, and chattered about the wind farms with their giant propellers generating power. We arrived in Spokane and parked down near the river front park (the giant Radio Flyer slide is wicked cool!!! I made the kids let me take their picture by it MUCH to Zachary's great dismay--Alex was down though!!)...the parking meter was fed and away we walked. It's a lovely city...I would like to go back and explore more thoroughly and take all 3 kids. We shopped in Boo Radley's, checked out the carousel, meandered through a bunch of cross streets and decided to head out. This, of course, would be the point where I get lost and we discovered the Spokane ghetto (or Spokompton as per one of the t-shirts in Boo Radleys--Spokompton, Spokanistan, Spokanada....pretty cute! Plus they had things like bacon candy canes and bacon toothpaste...who knew??). And so Alex decided to point out the prostitutes, the drug dealers, the meth addict, the Catholic nursing home (no seriously) while Zachary had a Moderate to Severe Freak Out that I was permanently lost and we were doomed to forever roam the Wrong Side of the Tracks in Spokane. Obviously, we made our way out....and decided to stop for a late dinner at the booming metropolis of Ritzville WA which boasted a Perkins. Zachary re-channeled his inner 5 year old in Alaska and ate something called the Twelve--6 pancakes, three eggs scrambled and 3 strips of bacon and a big side of breakfast potatos which the waitress informed him 4 of the staff usually split--he had no difficulty inhaling it all. Alex chose the Boston Cream Pancake platter after toying with the idea of merely ordering a lemon meringue pie for dinner. By the time we left Perkins, it was past dark and Alex (who was now riding Shotgun) complained about the inability to see the landscape. He then decided that we should put Avenged Sevenfold "Nightmare" on the CD player and that's we found ourselves hurtling down I-90 in the darkness as if we were the only ones around singing at the top of our lungs.... We did then discover that the wind farm, which looks soooo cool during the daytime, has red lights that are all set to flash simultaneously at night. What this means is, you're speeding down a pitchblack road and suddenly up ahead and kind of off on the side up on a bluff this whole bank of red lights flash. It's possible that this Freaks People Out causing them to perhaps think it is a UFO before Somebody has a Prevailing Cooler Head and remembers said wind farm (note to the wind turbine people--alternating flash, for the luv of all that's good in the world ALTERNATING FLASH). Got the kids home by eleven-ish...so thrilled to have spent the day together. Twas indeed a much needed respite from the mundanity of life as it had become....