Remember the scene in Bull Durham when Nuke (Tim Robbins) is on the mound wearing Annie Savoy’s garter and he rolls his eyes back and pitches the ball? That’s kind of what it’s like dating 14 years and a few hundred pounds gained and lost since my last date.
In pre-Google days, it would have been a no-brainer. I’d have waited longer than an initial coffee date to reveal that I used to weigh 300 pounds. But fortunately or not, anyone who searches my name gets the lowdown real fast. So when it comes to dating, I roll my eyes back and throw it out there. I was who I was and I am who I am and the guy up to bat has a number of options of what to do with that curve ball.
This is a first in a series of blogs I’ll be writing from time to time about my experiences as a single woman with an overweight past who is dating but not looking for Mr. Right (I won’t walk down that aisle again). The names have been changed to protect the guilty, but my hope is that it will lead to an ongoing discussion with you about relationships in relation to weight gain and loss.
PBF1 (Potential Boyfriend #1) was five months older than me, taught economics at a private college, and liked to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder and walk me around his “man cave”: a white-walled, sparsely decorated condo. He said throwing me over his shoulders was how he would be able to tell if I ever gained weight.
PBF1 said he had all a man could want: a big-screen TV mounted on the wall, a leather couch and chair, and a “summer” car stored in the garage. Because we dated in the winter, I never got a ride in it.
I wanted to impress PBF1 by making him the always homey Wild Rice Pilaf. Seriously. This stuff is love in a casserole dish. I brought all the ingredients to his condo: wild rice, long grain brown rice, butter, broth, broccoli, carrots, onions, and crushed rosemary. As he sat in his leather chair working on his laptop, occasionally gazing over to the kitchen through Ward Cleaver-like eyes (for the record, I was not wearing high heels or a floral dress with an apron), I searched for anything resembling a measuring cup, particularly since I’d altered the recipe a bit and needed the non-ubiquitous 1/3 cup. I found shot glasses, duct tape and six months of newsletters from the condo board, but no measuring cups.
“Um, babe?” I said. “Do you have measuring cups?”
He laughed and went back to typing.
Blinded by the possibility of true love, I missed what should have been my first clue that this guy was NOT kitchen savvy: an eclectic mix of plates and bowls – pieces of what used to be whole sets of dishes, given to him, no doubt, by his mother.
Knocked off my cooking game, I channeled my domestic MacGyver. ‘Hmmmm…How can I make this pilaf work?’ A shot glasses holds about an ounce of liquid. There are 2.66 ounces in one-third cup. PBF1’s coffee pot held 8 cups of liquid. I could fill water to the one-cup line and then divide it evenly into three glasses. But did he have three of the same glasses? Yes, he did! In the bathroom! Thank you Dixie!
The rice turned out perfectly, but the relationship did not, lasting about as long as it takes to cook wild rice. That’s OK. It’s hard to fall in love with someone who doesn’t know what a dish towel is for. Besides, I found out after we broke up – just after Valentine’s Day – that he is married to a woman who lives in a former Eastern bloc country. *eyeroll*
My former therapist said to me, after telling her about this dating disaster, “We all have baggage. We’re just trying to find someone with a matching set.”
“Heck,” I said, “I’d be happy to find someone with matching flatware!”
Kamis, 25 Agustus 2011
Senin, 22 Agustus 2011
The Here & Now
I’m in a new world with all this school, dating and perimenopause going on in my life. These changes are exciting (well, maybe not the menopause part) and I’m keeping up the best I can, but sometimes a girl just needs a day completely alone.
So today I sequestered myself with myself. I got up later than usual and made coffee and drank it in bed and played WordTwist on Facebook. I put on my biking clothes and went on a 17-mile ride. I went to WalMart and bought fruit, a travel hair dryer and dental floss. When I got home, I didn’t shower because I wanted to shave my legs in a hot bath drinking a glass of wine and listening to iTunes and I couldn’t do that at 2 in the afternoon. So sweaty me ate a salad and then made bean burgers to freeze and veggie soup to freeze and roasted a squash that tomorrow will turn into this soup: http://www.joybauer.com/healthy-recipes/butternut-squash-soup-3.aspx.
Between cooking and bathing, I talked to my brother Marty for an hour, as we do every day, and he – as he always does – floored me with his optimism, despite the fact that his life did a complete 180 on June 23.
“I can either complain and be angry and make everyone around me miserable, or I can say, ‘This is the way things are right now,’” he told me. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not enamored with my situation. I don’t wake up and say, ‘Yahoo!’, but I am thankful for the fact that things aren’t worse.”
Coming to terms with the way things are is NOT easy. We all change and morph and grow and recede. We gain and lose and learn or not learn. When I’m paying attention – where I learn about the changes and morphing – I’m in the center of myself. And whether I “get it” is determined on how much time I spend in that center. I find that when I’m most centered, I’m most mindful of my weight and my continued maintenance goal, something that is extremely important to me. But when I get caught up in the every-day craziness, I’m not always successful. That’s why I’m humbled by people like my brother who – while I wish his circumstances were different, believe me – emulate the way I’d like to view life: through that lens of here and now.
I know it’s not always easy. Jobs, family, personal obligations take up so much of our time. But do you set aside time for yourself? And if so, how does that affect your weight loss/maintenance goals?
Sabtu, 20 Agustus 2011
The Dog Days Are Almost Over
For the first time in many days, I am alone, sitting in my dining room, which has no table. My stepsons were here for a few days, fulfilling my birthday gift request: that the entire family be together for the first time since Thanksgiving. 
The cicadas are singing along to “Dog Days Are Over.” They shed their nymph shells a few weeks ago, leaving brown exoskeletons scattered over my yard – paper-thin and perfectly detailed duplicates of the cicada’s body pre-emergence.
This has been a summer of change for me, and like a cicada nymph, I’ve emerged from an exoskeletal shell and am learning to use the wings I’ve grown in all the summer’s transitions.
I wrote a blog a few months ago about how a friend told me back in March that until I learned to live within the space of my new life with the same strength and determination with which I lost weight, I would be forever grasping for and holding on to bogus and temporary securities. He said I had to let the loneliness maul me, to feel it to my core and to not run away. In time, he said, it wouldn’t hurt as much and I would be stronger.
I took that challenge and allowed the loneliness to wash over me. I was in the middle of the mauling when my brother Marty had his seizure at the end of June. When he was released from the hospital a few weeks later, I went to Minneapolis to help in whatever way I could. I cried when I was dropped off at the Pittsburgh airport July 18. I cried for my brother and I cried for me. I wanted to go, but I didn’t want to go. I was afraid. I had no idea what to expect or if I was up to what waited for me there.
I worked on shedding that fear on the plane while drinking a first-class glass of wine (Literally, it was the wine they serve first-class passengers, since they’d run out of the cheap stuff they serve coach. And for my “inconvenience,” they gave it to me for free. *smile*) So while sipping said wine, I thought about my strengths: A) I am a mother; B) I used to be the secretary for the senior vice-president of a large general contractor (think airports and sports stadiums, many you’ve probably been to); and C) I’m a practicing Buddhist (I always forget that one). I possess super-human organizational skills and a little more patience than I once had, so whatever was waiting for me in Minneapolis was up against a somewhat powerful force. At least, that’s what I told myself. It and the wine helped.
Long story short, I hit the ground running. The mauling continued, but it loaned me (or “borrowed” me, if you’re from Minnesota) some strength and determination. For facing my fear, I was rewarded with a closer relationship with my brothers. Although I’d prefer the three of us hadn’t gained this closeness because of a brain injury, I’m glad for the trust it has created between us and the trust that I developed in myself. I continue to advocate on behalf of my brother and to keep his schedule from 1,000 miles away, and will go back to Minneapolis in a week. Only this time I won’t cry at the airport.
Some of you might remember that last year I was going to go back to school to become a dietary technician. The divorce, the move and the mauling made that impossible. So, too, did a worsening of the osteoarthritis in my knees, wrists and shoulders. I’m sure you’ve noticed that I don’t blog as much as I used to. The main reason is because 1) sitting for and 2) typing longer than an hour is difficult. Dietary tech classes are mostly online and require several hours a day of writing and computer reading, so I gave up on going to school and, while I was at it, blogging, too.
But feeling sorry for myself is not a favorite pastime and it was making my family nuts. It was hard to accept that I needed help, but it was harder to stay locked in self-sympathy. Hmmm…where had I felt that before? Ah, yes, back in 2004, when I understood that losing weight would be a long and life-changing process, but that it would be even harder to stay 300 pounds. I’d shed my skin then, I could shed it again now.
So in May, I called the Office of Vocational Rehabilitation and began working with a woman named Sara, who helped me think through what I wanted to be when I grew up. After evaluating my physical “issues,” she hooked me up with the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center’s Institute for Rehabilitation and Research and its Center for Assistive Technology. Last week I met John, a rehabilitation engineer, who took on my “issues” as a challenge to find the most adaptive computer equipment possible. Among other things, he recommended I use this:
Have any of you used speech recognition software before? I’m anxious to give it a try, but I have a feeling it will be like learning a new language. Or maybe it will be like a microwave. Just like, “How did we ever heat up leftovers before the microwave?” maybe in a few months I’ll be wondering how I ever typed without talking.
My friend assured me the mauling would eventually become a scratch and then a gentle touch and in time I’d come out on the other side stronger. In this shedding of my nymph shell, I find myself somewhere between a scratch and a gentle touch, definitely stronger and definitely happier. Sort of like the happiness Florence and the Machine sing about.
Happiness hit her like a train on a track
Coming towards her, stuck still no turning back
She hid around corners and she hid under beds
She killed it with kisses and from it she fled
With every bubble she sank with her drink
And washed it away down the kitchen sink
The dog days are over
The dog days are done
The horses are coming
So you better run
I wrote a blog a few months ago about how a friend told me back in March that until I learned to live within the space of my new life with the same strength and determination with which I lost weight, I would be forever grasping for and holding on to bogus and temporary securities. He said I had to let the loneliness maul me, to feel it to my core and to not run away. In time, he said, it wouldn’t hurt as much and I would be stronger.
I took that challenge and allowed the loneliness to wash over me. I was in the middle of the mauling when my brother Marty had his seizure at the end of June. When he was released from the hospital a few weeks later, I went to Minneapolis to help in whatever way I could. I cried when I was dropped off at the Pittsburgh airport July 18. I cried for my brother and I cried for me. I wanted to go, but I didn’t want to go. I was afraid. I had no idea what to expect or if I was up to what waited for me there.
I worked on shedding that fear on the plane while drinking a first-class glass of wine (Literally, it was the wine they serve first-class passengers, since they’d run out of the cheap stuff they serve coach. And for my “inconvenience,” they gave it to me for free. *smile*) So while sipping said wine, I thought about my strengths: A) I am a mother; B) I used to be the secretary for the senior vice-president of a large general contractor (think airports and sports stadiums, many you’ve probably been to); and C) I’m a practicing Buddhist (I always forget that one). I possess super-human organizational skills and a little more patience than I once had, so whatever was waiting for me in Minneapolis was up against a somewhat powerful force. At least, that’s what I told myself. It and the wine helped.
Long story short, I hit the ground running. The mauling continued, but it loaned me (or “borrowed” me, if you’re from Minnesota) some strength and determination. For facing my fear, I was rewarded with a closer relationship with my brothers. Although I’d prefer the three of us hadn’t gained this closeness because of a brain injury, I’m glad for the trust it has created between us and the trust that I developed in myself. I continue to advocate on behalf of my brother and to keep his schedule from 1,000 miles away, and will go back to Minneapolis in a week. Only this time I won’t cry at the airport.
Some of you might remember that last year I was going to go back to school to become a dietary technician. The divorce, the move and the mauling made that impossible. So, too, did a worsening of the osteoarthritis in my knees, wrists and shoulders. I’m sure you’ve noticed that I don’t blog as much as I used to. The main reason is because 1) sitting for and 2) typing longer than an hour is difficult. Dietary tech classes are mostly online and require several hours a day of writing and computer reading, so I gave up on going to school and, while I was at it, blogging, too.
But feeling sorry for myself is not a favorite pastime and it was making my family nuts. It was hard to accept that I needed help, but it was harder to stay locked in self-sympathy. Hmmm…where had I felt that before? Ah, yes, back in 2004, when I understood that losing weight would be a long and life-changing process, but that it would be even harder to stay 300 pounds. I’d shed my skin then, I could shed it again now.
So in May, I called the Office of Vocational Rehabilitation and began working with a woman named Sara, who helped me think through what I wanted to be when I grew up. After evaluating my physical “issues,” she hooked me up with the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center’s Institute for Rehabilitation and Research and its Center for Assistive Technology. Last week I met John, a rehabilitation engineer, who took on my “issues” as a challenge to find the most adaptive computer equipment possible. Among other things, he recommended I use this:
My friend assured me the mauling would eventually become a scratch and then a gentle touch and in time I’d come out on the other side stronger. In this shedding of my nymph shell, I find myself somewhere between a scratch and a gentle touch, definitely stronger and definitely happier. Sort of like the happiness Florence and the Machine sing about.
Happiness hit her like a train on a track
Coming towards her, stuck still no turning back
She hid around corners and she hid under beds
She killed it with kisses and from it she fled
With every bubble she sank with her drink
And washed it away down the kitchen sink
The dog days are over
The dog days are done
The horses are coming
So you better run
Selasa, 09 Agustus 2011
Girlfriend Therapy
BF and I left Pennsylvania for North Carolina at 9:30 yesterday morning, even though the original plan was to leave at 7:00. (A little TMI ahead.) A stomach bug kept me up most of the night, and when 7 a.m. rolled around, I was still curled up around a pillow, convinced a Mack truck broadsided me during the night.
I was up and coherent by 9, and after two trips back to my house because I: A) forgot to check if the refrigerator was shut tight (it sticks and I didn’t want to come home to rotting zucchini), and B) forgot to grab my sunglasses and computer adapter out of the Jeep, we went to Wal-Mart for car food and Imodium (which I, naturally, forgot to buy). BF, to his credit, only gave me a small eyeroll and sigh, but I told him the Imodium was only just-in-case, so I said drive on, I’d be fine.
And I was.
BF ate his breakfast:
(Believe me, I didn’t pick it out. That Lunchable had 350 calories, 19 grams of fat, 1 gram of fiber and 1000 grams of sodium. Seriously?)
I drank my breakfast. Slowly:
Not my best choice, I know, but solid food and I were still fighting.
The 7-hour-and-change trip to Greensboro was uneventful, although at one point we could have recreated a scene from “Thelma and Louise” if BF had listened to his GPS. While driving over a rather deep gorge in West Virginia (like there are any shallow gorges in WV) on a newly constructed part of I-77, Garmin interrupted our conversation about the price of crude oil (honest to god, we’re boring that way): “In 300 feet, take a U-turn.” Hmmm….it’s probably time for BF to get a map upgrade.
Fast forward to the morning, I felt like myself again, and knew I was looking at a great day. It started off disappointing with a lousy breakfast bar (Grits, biscuits and gravy, Fruit Loops and white bagels, with the only fruit being green or overripe bananas. Take your pick.), and I about gagged on the one and only sip I took of the Odwalla Superfood drink I bought the day before at Wal-Mart. But the morning quickly got better when I discovered I could eat my Greek yogurt with two coffee stir sticks (I was too afraid to return to the breakfast bar for a spoon):
The morning really got good when I was picked up at my hotel by my BFF Maintaining Diva Sondra, who not only took the day off from work, but drove an hour to see me. Now that’s love.
Here we are at Natty Greene’s:
Yes, that’s a beer sampler in front of us. Beer isn’t something I drink often, but in the right company it makes perfect sense.
Sondra is one of the Maintaining Divas, my maintenance support group, without whom I’m convinced I’d weigh 300 pounds again.
We drank coffee, browsed fun shops in downtown Greensboro, at lunch at the aforementioned Natty Greene’s, and then found the best pedicure I’ve ever had. A little place just south of the University of North Carolina Greensboro campus. We talked and laughed and caught up on all the gossip of our lives, and can I just say I’ve never known a massage chair to be so aggressive? Beat us both up (in a good way) with mini karate chop-like maneuvers. Rock on, massage chair!
Sondra getting prettified:
My toes post-pedi:
In these post-weight-loss years, I’ve learned the importance of taking care of myself, especially when a boatload of stress is wearing me down. And taking care of myself no longer means ingesting three servings of dinner or two Egg McMuffins or laying on the couch vowing one day I’ll get up and exercise. It means – beyond eating well and exercising – reaching out and telling the folks who love me the most that I need them. That their presence in my life is essential. To allow them to come to me and comfort me and make me laugh.
Vacations come in all shapes and sizes, and when a good friend is involved, even those 3- and 6-hour pockets of time together can feel like a week in the Bahamas.
I’ve had the good fortune the last month to engage in some badly needed girlfriend therapy. When Tracy and I went to a Twins game while I was in Minnesota, I got energized. When Shari and I hiked last week, I got energized. When Debbie and I painted wine glasses with her BFFs last Friday, I got energized. Today, with Sondra, I got energized. That energy is infused with the understanding and care that only good friends can give. Sure beats a pint of ice cream and a 3 Musketeer.
I will return to PA tomorrow, prepared to deal with all that awaits me there and on my phone texts and on my email. That boatload of stress isn’t gone, but it’s certainly more manageable. I do, in the infamous words of Ringo, get by with a little help from my friends.
I was up and coherent by 9, and after two trips back to my house because I: A) forgot to check if the refrigerator was shut tight (it sticks and I didn’t want to come home to rotting zucchini), and B) forgot to grab my sunglasses and computer adapter out of the Jeep, we went to Wal-Mart for car food and Imodium (which I, naturally, forgot to buy). BF, to his credit, only gave me a small eyeroll and sigh, but I told him the Imodium was only just-in-case, so I said drive on, I’d be fine.
And I was.
BF ate his breakfast:
(Believe me, I didn’t pick it out. That Lunchable had 350 calories, 19 grams of fat, 1 gram of fiber and 1000 grams of sodium. Seriously?)
I drank my breakfast. Slowly:
Not my best choice, I know, but solid food and I were still fighting.
The 7-hour-and-change trip to Greensboro was uneventful, although at one point we could have recreated a scene from “Thelma and Louise” if BF had listened to his GPS. While driving over a rather deep gorge in West Virginia (like there are any shallow gorges in WV) on a newly constructed part of I-77, Garmin interrupted our conversation about the price of crude oil (honest to god, we’re boring that way): “In 300 feet, take a U-turn.” Hmmm….it’s probably time for BF to get a map upgrade.
Fast forward to the morning, I felt like myself again, and knew I was looking at a great day. It started off disappointing with a lousy breakfast bar (Grits, biscuits and gravy, Fruit Loops and white bagels, with the only fruit being green or overripe bananas. Take your pick.), and I about gagged on the one and only sip I took of the Odwalla Superfood drink I bought the day before at Wal-Mart. But the morning quickly got better when I discovered I could eat my Greek yogurt with two coffee stir sticks (I was too afraid to return to the breakfast bar for a spoon):
The morning really got good when I was picked up at my hotel by my BFF Maintaining Diva Sondra, who not only took the day off from work, but drove an hour to see me. Now that’s love.
Here we are at Natty Greene’s:
Yes, that’s a beer sampler in front of us. Beer isn’t something I drink often, but in the right company it makes perfect sense.
Sondra is one of the Maintaining Divas, my maintenance support group, without whom I’m convinced I’d weigh 300 pounds again.
We drank coffee, browsed fun shops in downtown Greensboro, at lunch at the aforementioned Natty Greene’s, and then found the best pedicure I’ve ever had. A little place just south of the University of North Carolina Greensboro campus. We talked and laughed and caught up on all the gossip of our lives, and can I just say I’ve never known a massage chair to be so aggressive? Beat us both up (in a good way) with mini karate chop-like maneuvers. Rock on, massage chair!
Sondra getting prettified:
My toes post-pedi:
In these post-weight-loss years, I’ve learned the importance of taking care of myself, especially when a boatload of stress is wearing me down. And taking care of myself no longer means ingesting three servings of dinner or two Egg McMuffins or laying on the couch vowing one day I’ll get up and exercise. It means – beyond eating well and exercising – reaching out and telling the folks who love me the most that I need them. That their presence in my life is essential. To allow them to come to me and comfort me and make me laugh.
Vacations come in all shapes and sizes, and when a good friend is involved, even those 3- and 6-hour pockets of time together can feel like a week in the Bahamas.
I’ve had the good fortune the last month to engage in some badly needed girlfriend therapy. When Tracy and I went to a Twins game while I was in Minnesota, I got energized. When Shari and I hiked last week, I got energized. When Debbie and I painted wine glasses with her BFFs last Friday, I got energized. Today, with Sondra, I got energized. That energy is infused with the understanding and care that only good friends can give. Sure beats a pint of ice cream and a 3 Musketeer.
I will return to PA tomorrow, prepared to deal with all that awaits me there and on my phone texts and on my email. That boatload of stress isn’t gone, but it’s certainly more manageable. I do, in the infamous words of Ringo, get by with a little help from my friends.
Jumat, 05 Agustus 2011
More Fun in the Kitchen: Curried Lentils & Veggies
I’ve been asked to submit a few of my own recipes for a new book being published later this year, but as many of you know, I don’t write a lot of my recipes down. I cook like my friend Rodney types: hunt-and-peck style. A little of this, a little of that, a little of “Oh that looks about right.”
Last night I was craving a lentils and curry dish I’d made months ago, but couldn’t for the life of me remember how I’d made it. I decided to recreate it the best I could, and this time, write it down. It didn’t turn out exactly the same way as last time, which turned out to be a good thing because I liked this batch better.
Curried Lentils & Veggies
Serves 4
I like to play around with different kinds of curry, adjusting the heat to the mood of the food and the palate of the consumer. I don’t like super spicy food, but I like a nice kick.
When I originally made this, I used ¾ t hot curry + ¾ t Maharajah curry. Click here to view the curries I buy at My Spice Sage.
¾ C onion, chopped
3-4 garlic cloves, minced
1 C carrots, chopped
1 C zucchini or yellow summer squash, chopped
1½ t curry
¼ t turmeric
¾ t ginger
¼ t cumin
15 oz diced tomatoes, undrained
1 C French (green) lentils
3 T + 2 C vegetable broth
1-2 C fresh spinach
Brown rice (optional)
Spray a large saucepan with non-stick cooking spray and cook onion and garlic on medium heat for one minute. Add carrot, zucchini, spices and 3 T vegetable broth. Cook on medium heat for 5 minutes, stirring frequently. Add tomatoes, lentils and vegetable broth. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 30-40 minutes until lentils are soft. Add spinach and stir until spinach has wilted. Serve alone or on top of brown rice.
And speaking of curry, I think I’ll submit this next one, too. Some of you might have seen this one in an earlier blog from last year. It was one of the first recipes I’d ever actually written down.
Sun-Dried Tomato and Curry Hummus
This is loosely based on a Weight Watchers recipe (Roasted Red Pepper Hummus). I wasn’t crazy about the original, so I “made it my own,” (somewhere, Paula Abdul is clapping for me).
1 can chickpeas (garbanzo beans), rinsed and drained (reserve the drained liquid)
4-5 sun-dried tomato halves (not the kind in oil)
3-4 (or more) garlic cloves, peeled
2 T tahini
3 T lemon juice
1/3 C Greek yogurt
¼ t pepper
¼ to ½ t salt
1 t curry powder (I use a combo of hot and mild)
½ t cumin
½ t coriander
Put all ingredients in a food processor and process for a minute. Add a little of the reserved liquid (or if you forgot to save it, like I’ve done before, use vegetable or chicken broth or water) and process for another few minutes. Check for consistency and add more liquid if you want. Process for about 3-5 minutes, or until desired consistency.
This is really good right away or after a few hours in the fridge. It’s got a nice bite, especially if you add some kick. Serve with baked pita chips (cut pita in wedges, place on a cookie sheet, spray with a little Pam, bake at 375 degrees for 7-10 minutes). This is also a great veggie dip.
Makes approximately 2 cups.
I could use a Vulcan mind meld right about now. I need to come up with three more original/greatly modified recipes in the next week and they're lodged in my head. How many times have you told yourself, "Oh, I'll remember"? Then when it comes to remembering, you can't. Oh well, I love to cook so it's not like it will be torture to spend a few hours in the kitchen. I'm just not sure which recipes to choose. Any ideas?
Last night I was craving a lentils and curry dish I’d made months ago, but couldn’t for the life of me remember how I’d made it. I decided to recreate it the best I could, and this time, write it down. It didn’t turn out exactly the same way as last time, which turned out to be a good thing because I liked this batch better.
Curried Lentils & Veggies
Serves 4
I like to play around with different kinds of curry, adjusting the heat to the mood of the food and the palate of the consumer. I don’t like super spicy food, but I like a nice kick.
When I originally made this, I used ¾ t hot curry + ¾ t Maharajah curry. Click here to view the curries I buy at My Spice Sage.
¾ C onion, chopped
3-4 garlic cloves, minced
1 C carrots, chopped
1 C zucchini or yellow summer squash, chopped
1½ t curry
¼ t turmeric
¾ t ginger
¼ t cumin
15 oz diced tomatoes, undrained
1 C French (green) lentils
3 T + 2 C vegetable broth
1-2 C fresh spinach
Brown rice (optional)
Spray a large saucepan with non-stick cooking spray and cook onion and garlic on medium heat for one minute. Add carrot, zucchini, spices and 3 T vegetable broth. Cook on medium heat for 5 minutes, stirring frequently. Add tomatoes, lentils and vegetable broth. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 30-40 minutes until lentils are soft. Add spinach and stir until spinach has wilted. Serve alone or on top of brown rice.
And speaking of curry, I think I’ll submit this next one, too. Some of you might have seen this one in an earlier blog from last year. It was one of the first recipes I’d ever actually written down.
Sun-Dried Tomato and Curry Hummus
This is loosely based on a Weight Watchers recipe (Roasted Red Pepper Hummus). I wasn’t crazy about the original, so I “made it my own,” (somewhere, Paula Abdul is clapping for me).
1 can chickpeas (garbanzo beans), rinsed and drained (reserve the drained liquid)
4-5 sun-dried tomato halves (not the kind in oil)
3-4 (or more) garlic cloves, peeled
2 T tahini
3 T lemon juice
1/3 C Greek yogurt
¼ t pepper
¼ to ½ t salt
1 t curry powder (I use a combo of hot and mild)
½ t cumin
½ t coriander
Put all ingredients in a food processor and process for a minute. Add a little of the reserved liquid (or if you forgot to save it, like I’ve done before, use vegetable or chicken broth or water) and process for another few minutes. Check for consistency and add more liquid if you want. Process for about 3-5 minutes, or until desired consistency.
This is really good right away or after a few hours in the fridge. It’s got a nice bite, especially if you add some kick. Serve with baked pita chips (cut pita in wedges, place on a cookie sheet, spray with a little Pam, bake at 375 degrees for 7-10 minutes). This is also a great veggie dip.
Makes approximately 2 cups.
I could use a Vulcan mind meld right about now. I need to come up with three more original/greatly modified recipes in the next week and they're lodged in my head. How many times have you told yourself, "Oh, I'll remember"? Then when it comes to remembering, you can't. Oh well, I love to cook so it's not like it will be torture to spend a few hours in the kitchen. I'm just not sure which recipes to choose. Any ideas?
Selasa, 02 Agustus 2011
Reunited, And It Hurts So Good
The last time I was in a gym, my left knee was growing “cartilaginous intra-articular bodies” which “float freely within the synovial fluid.” Ah…the good old days. I had a debridement and synovectomy in June 2010 to remove the nasty buggers, but the surgery precluded me from using my favorite piece of cardio equipment: the arc trainer. And if I couldn’t use the arc trainer, what was the use in going to the gym? (Yeah…I’m all or nothing like that sometimes.)
My daughter, Cassie, started hitting the gym early on in her last pregnancy. She worked out until the day Mae was born in February and then picked it up again five weeks later. She’s invited me several times to join her, but I’ve been doing a lot of biking and walking this summer, so I told myself I didn’t see the need. The truth is, I was afraid my body wasn’t up to it. I mean, back in the day, I used to hit the arc trainer hard for 45 minutes every time I worked out. I cranked that baby up to a resistance of 50 with an incline of 4 or 5. Burned 600-700 calories. What would I be able to do now? Ten minutes? Fifteen?
But Cassie inspires me so much, and in keeping with my promise to take better care of my body, I told her I’d join her at the gym today. After all, no goal gets accomplished without a starting point. Even the most fit people in the world had to start somewhere, right? I remember my starting point. I went into exercise kicking and screaming. I started out walking a half-mile around a track. I was exhausted! But that half mile turned into a mile, then two miles, then three, then I started walking 4-5 mph, then I started strength training, then I joined a gym and fell in love with the arc trainer, then I got a bike, then I started hiking… When I walked into the gym this morning, I felt the same joy each that every one of those exercise moments had given me and I was ready to hop on the arc trainer and start over.
All the biking and hiking I’ve done this summer paid off in a fabulously empowering 40-minute cardio workout. I did 20 minutes on the arc trainer, staying between a resistance of 25-35 with a few minutes at 50 just as a reminder of where I want to be again. Then I hopped on the treadmill next to my lovely daughter, who was running, and I walked 20 minutes at varying inclines and speed. Even got it up to 5 mph because I could.
When I was done, I went downstairs to the weight room and it was like being home. I forgot how much I love the weight room, too! “Hello 15-pound weight. Oh there you are bench where I do my crunches from hell.” *sigh* There’s no place like home.
Five hours later, I’m still high from the gym. My legs are a little sore and my abs are still screaming from the workout I did a few days ago, but it’s all good. I’m starting over and I welcome the challenge.
(Now if I could just get that Peaches and Herb song out of my head…)
My daughter, Cassie, started hitting the gym early on in her last pregnancy. She worked out until the day Mae was born in February and then picked it up again five weeks later. She’s invited me several times to join her, but I’ve been doing a lot of biking and walking this summer, so I told myself I didn’t see the need. The truth is, I was afraid my body wasn’t up to it. I mean, back in the day, I used to hit the arc trainer hard for 45 minutes every time I worked out. I cranked that baby up to a resistance of 50 with an incline of 4 or 5. Burned 600-700 calories. What would I be able to do now? Ten minutes? Fifteen?
But Cassie inspires me so much, and in keeping with my promise to take better care of my body, I told her I’d join her at the gym today. After all, no goal gets accomplished without a starting point. Even the most fit people in the world had to start somewhere, right? I remember my starting point. I went into exercise kicking and screaming. I started out walking a half-mile around a track. I was exhausted! But that half mile turned into a mile, then two miles, then three, then I started walking 4-5 mph, then I started strength training, then I joined a gym and fell in love with the arc trainer, then I got a bike, then I started hiking… When I walked into the gym this morning, I felt the same joy each that every one of those exercise moments had given me and I was ready to hop on the arc trainer and start over.
All the biking and hiking I’ve done this summer paid off in a fabulously empowering 40-minute cardio workout. I did 20 minutes on the arc trainer, staying between a resistance of 25-35 with a few minutes at 50 just as a reminder of where I want to be again. Then I hopped on the treadmill next to my lovely daughter, who was running, and I walked 20 minutes at varying inclines and speed. Even got it up to 5 mph because I could.
When I was done, I went downstairs to the weight room and it was like being home. I forgot how much I love the weight room, too! “Hello 15-pound weight. Oh there you are bench where I do my crunches from hell.” *sigh* There’s no place like home.
Five hours later, I’m still high from the gym. My legs are a little sore and my abs are still screaming from the workout I did a few days ago, but it’s all good. I’m starting over and I welcome the challenge.
(Now if I could just get that Peaches and Herb song out of my head…)
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