Trying to be green, part 2

They have been available at the grocery stores for years and have been even more prominent lately: the reusable grocery shopping bag. Everyone should be using them, but so few of us do, even though we've heard numerous times how plastic bags use petroleum and linger in the landfills and icky chemicals are released in the manufacturing of paper bags. Sure, it is nice to have a few paper bags to put newspapers in for recycling and a few plastic bags for walking the dog, but they really pile up after a while. The grocery stores have bins where you can recycle your plastic bags, but who remembers to do that? And, are they really recycling those bags or do they just want you to think they are recycling them? We don't know for sure. Anyway, after months of threatening to buy a bunch of those reusable grocery shopping bags and bid farewell to paper and plastic, we finally did it. But now, the big question-- will we ever use these bags again? Place your bets, folks.

My tasty new discovery

I was making Peanut Blossom cookies for the first time to take to my in-laws for Thanksgiving. You know, the sugar-coated peanut butter cookies with the Hershey's Kisses in the middle. One of the classics-- at least for me. I remember eating them at various school and/or Girl Scout functions growing up. The combination of peanut butter and milk chocolate is a winner, of course, but I always had difficulty eating the cookies (okay, maybe not that much difficulty) because of the Hershey's Kiss sticking up in the middle. Do you pull the Kiss off the cookie and eat it first? Do you bite the top off the Kiss until it is level with the rest of the cookie? Who thought of this design anyway? Well, I wondered how I would resolve this issue now that I had control of the batch. I ended up buying Hershey's Miniatures and Hershey's Kisses, thinking I would try the flat Miniatures but have the Kisses to fall back on. I made the first batch in the traditional style with the Kisses in the middle (I figured at least one person would say "hey, isn't this supposed to have a Hershey's Kiss in it?"). They turned out perfectly. With the second batch, I used the Hershey's Miniatures. Not quite as pretty, and slightly too much chocolate (debatable, I suppose), but at least it was flat, and you would get chocolate in every bite of the cookie. Then, it came to me. While the chocolate was warm (having been placed on the cookies right out of the oven), I took a knife and spread the chocolate out like frosting. Yesssss! That's it! When the cookies cool, the chocolate hardens so you don't have a sloppy mess. My new invention tested well at home, but I decided to take the first (classic) batch to Thanksgiving dinner. They were a bit hit, too, but little did they know. Just wait until Christmas. My tasty new discovery will be revealed.

I am trying to be green, but . . .

I really am trying to be more "green." The problem is, I can't quite get it right. You see, I prefer to use paper towels to clean up messes than cloth towels, even though cloth towels are the greener choice. I also like to print things out sometimes, even though that involves bleached white office paper. There are situations where I could ride a bicycle, but end up driving the car because I didn't allow myself enough time to get there on a bike. What else? Oh yes, I don't always turn off the light when I leave the room because I think it is good to show some light in different rooms. (It is supposed to throw off the burglars). We subscribe to magazines that don't get read and sometimes we have to throw food out because we let it spoil. Who can keep up with this all the time? Can anyone? It would take a constant, 24-hour vigil to really get it done. It makes me wonder about the people that make that claim and lord it over everyone else. I bet we could find something on them. But, wouldn't that be a waste of energy, too?

The spirit is willing, but the mouth is weak

I really wish I could go back to being a vegetarian. Back in 2002, I decided to stop eating meat. Unfortunately, the decision was made before I went to the National Planning Conference in Chicago that year. The first place we ate lunch was that place that they used to spoof on Saturday Night Live-- "cheeseburger, cheeseburger"-- what was the name of that place? Anyway, to order anything but a hamburger or cheeseburger in that place was asking for trouble. I became a vegetarian the next day. I actually kept up with it in full force for a year. I lost 20 pounds without doing anything else. It was great. It was not easy though. Eating out was tough. Most places had only one veggie option and it was a salad or a cheese sandwich. You get tired of those after a while, especially if you don't like iceberg lettuce in the first place. So, every now and then, I would have to go ahead and consume animal flesh. Then, those occasions got closer and closer together. It was easier to just order a turkey sandwich and be done with it. When visiting relatives, it was just easier to eat whatever they were serving than to be a pain in the butt asking for different food. Then, I got married. Then, we went to Poland. I don't think there are any vegetarians there. Plus, I did not know the word for "vegetables" or "vegetarian" in Polish anyway. It pretty much unraveled from there.

But now, I am trying to get the magic back. We do pretty well here at home, but eating out is still a challenge. I just have to remember how good I felt during that year. It was interesting though, how much opposition I ran into during that time. I stopped eating meat for me and for no other reason. I never told anyone else that they should do the same thing but I was happy to talk about it with them if they wanted. I let the results speak for themselves. There were no lectures, no self-righteousness, no judgment. But, I got a lot of it in return. So many people tried to convince me that I was the one doing the wrong thing. Sometimes though, you just have to listen to your own voice. Hopefully, I can do it again.

Almost the new 30

Today, I turned 39 years old.  I keep hearing that 60 (years old) is the new 40.  By extension, some say that 40 is the new 30.  That's fine with me.  I will be the old 40 or the new 30 or whatever, as long as I don't have to go through my 20's again.  They sucked.  I was in a toxic relationship, 60 pounds overweight, and didn't know how to stand up for myself.  I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life or how to make anything good happen.  Miserable stuff. I am much happier now.  Please don't make me go back.  Some people pine for their "youth" and don't want to grow up.  I embrace it.  I feel more alive now than I ever did then.  I think I look better, too, if I do say so myself.  Next year, maybe we'll have a big party when I turn 40, or the new 30, or whatever.  I can't wait.

Make a decision, please!

I was in a department store the other day trying to buy a few things. I was not in a hurry per se, but I needed to return to work at some point. I could have accomplished all my tasks in a much shorter period of time had I not entangled myself in this trite, bordering on insanity decision-making process that always goes on in my head. First, I went to pick out a belt for Eddie. All he wanted was a black belt, silver buckle, size 34 waist-- one that he could wear with his work clothes or more casually with shorts. Not exactly detailed criteria. Anyway, I find the rack of belts. I could ignore all the brown ones and the ones with gold buckles. I started going through the black ones. Wrong size, buckle too big, belt too wide. Oh, wait, here is one that has the right sized buckle, black leather, size 34 waist. Perfect. Great. Walk away. Nope. Not so fast. Instead of taking the belt and going on my merry way, I continued to look through the belts to make sure there wasn't a better size 34 waist black belt with a silver buckle. This went on for several minutes before I walked away with the same belt I picked out in the first place.

Then, I went to women's lingerie. They had underwear on sale-- 3 for $21 or something like that. It was a brand I liked, so I started to look through the underwear. I have to pick out 3 pairs. Do I want beige, black, yellow or this nice rose color? I have to wade through the thong and bikini styles to find the hi-cut style. Or, should I get the hipster style? Oh, they don't have it in my size in that nice rose color. I finally find 3 pairs that I like. Perfect. Great. Walk away. Nope. I see another display with another brand that uses organic cotton and bamboo. I want to try that. That's a nice purple and a nice blue. Oh dear, I can't find 3 pairs. Then, I realized that I probably had enough underwear at home already, so I put the 3 pairs back and went on.

Next, the baby department. No, not for me, for our next door neighbor and one of my tennis teammates. Both are having boys, both have a girl already. So, they need boy clothes, right? Because that's what we do with babies right? Boys have to wear blue, girls pink. They can't use hand-me downs. Since my neighbor and my teammate don't know each other, I could get them the same thing and save some time. Yeah, right. I looked at toys, blankets, stuffed animals. No, keep looking. Three racks stuffed to the gills with baby clothes on clearance. Here we go. I found a couple of cute outfits. Perfect. Great. Walk away. Nope. I kept looking to see if I could find anything cuter (because they would know if I didn't). Finally, I settled on two outfits for each. I guess I'm done with shopping. No, wait, there were those shoes that I saw in the ad. Oh, you sold out of the size 10s? Hmm, maybe there is a pair sort of like it around here some place. Let me try these on. No, those won't work. Aaaaaaaaggggghhhhhh!

Obviously, I eventually made it out of the store and back to work. On the ride back, I kept asking why I insist on tormenting myself in this manner. I guess I just want things to be perfect. Good answer. Great. Walk away. Now.

We're baaaaaaack!

Eddie and I have returned from a delightful trip to Eureka Springs, Arkansas and Avon, Minnesota. In Eureka Springs, we stayed at the historic Basin Park hotel right in the middle of town. Supposedly, there are ghosts in the building, but if they were around that weekend, they did not bother us. The hotel was creaky and the bathrooms were tiny, but what character. Plus, when you walked out the front door, you were in the middle of town with interesting shops and restaurants in every direction. We didn't really buy anything though, just walked around a lot. (The store owners love that). On Thursday evening, we met up with the youth group from my church and went to see the Great Passion Play. It was a really good show, but it started to pour down rain during the crucifixion. There were two crashes of thunder/lightning-- one that was part of the show, one that wasn't. They cancelled the rest of the show after the latter. Luckily, we had ponchos with us, so we didn't get soaked. On Friday (July 4), we had to check out of the Basin Park Hotel and moved to the Bavarian Inn, where the lodging had a certain charm, but the real draw was the food at the German/Czech restaurant on site. Mmmmmmmm. We had cream of sauerkraut soup, bratwurst with pork strips (Eddie), sauerkraut, potato pancakes and some other cabbage variation. The next morning, they had blueberry coffee cake (from the restaurant) for the guests to eat for breakfast. Mmmmmmm.

After the blueberry coffee cake, we hit the road to Minnesota. The purpose of the trip was twofold: to ride bicycles on the Wobegon Regional Trail and to help Mark & Katrina clean up/throw out/box up/get ready to move fully to Alaska. We accomplished both, but I think the biking was more successful. I don't think our couple of days worth of work put much of a dent in the moving process. At least we were there to lend some moral support. Yeah, that's it-- moral support. Katrina and 2 of the kids went back to Alaska while we were there. Mark and the other two kids, a bunch of stuff and Biggie the St. Bernard, followed by Mal & Chris, will make the trek by car in a couple of weeks. Sheesh. I know how long the process can take. Before our wedding, Eddie and I purged and moved out a bunch of stuff from my house to get it ready for the realtor to show. While we were on the honeymoon, Mal & Chris did several projects for us. When we got back, I spent about a week going through more stuff and getting it moved over to the new place. It took several months to go through everything and integrate my stuff with Eddie's stuff and the weddding gifts and purge some more. Then, about a year or so after that, I went through the attic and organized and purged again. All of that took place for a move across town. Their move is so much more complicated. But, maybe we helped some. I know we had a great time biking the trail. We even brought a bicycle back with us-- one less thing for them!

Oh, isn't this just lovely

I see this gem on my way to work in the morning-- the giant billboard with an advertisement to purchase a gas-guzzling SUV. Nice.

Two sweet years

Well, today is the day of our second wedding anniversary. Woo hoo! I don't know if I would say that time has flown by-- it has been more like floating-- like a canoe softly and easily floating down the river-- and then careening over a waterfall (just kidding about that last part). We have had such fun together. We've traveled to Poland, taken a road trip across the country, made important decisions at Bosco's, watched a lot of tennis and laughed a lot along the way (except at that bus station in Opatow). And yes, we have even played mixed doubles together. We haven't tried ballroom dancing or a kitchen renovation yet, but if we do, I am sure it will be fine. I just couldn't ask for anything more-- except many, many more years like these.

There might be a story here

The other day, I left the tennis center to run some errands during lunchtime. The center is located in a residential area, but on a collector street that carries a fair amount of traffic. I had not accelerated much after pulling out of the parking lot, and it was probably a good thing. As I approached the first cross street, a man with no shirt was running barefoot at full speed, holding his jeans up with one hand (even though he had a belt). He did not look either direction before he went tearing across the main road into the distance. Never broke stride. What on earth was going on? I ruled out that his house was on fire, because he could have tried to stop one of the cars or run down the collector street to the police sub-station. Was he having a rendezvous with someone he should not have been and was discovered? Was he just locked out of his house and needed to get to work? I guess we will never know. But, I still wonder.

A couple of days later, in Midtown, I saw a guy walking down the street playing a guitar. Maybe there is not much mystery there (actually pretty normal for Midtown), but it made me wonder again about all the people there are in this world and all the different stories there must be on any given day. I only caught a glimpse of two.

Getting in a car changes a person

I was thinking about what I wanted to write about next, when Eddie came up with this gem. We were in the car on our way out of town and everyone was zooming by us or cutting in front of us. I asked rhetorically why there were so many jerks on the road and where did they all have to be in such a hurry, and Eddie replied with a sigh-- "Well, getting into a car seems to change a person." I thought about it for a moment. Maybe it is true. Back when I was commuting long distances to work, yelling (even screaming) at other drivers was a daily occurrence. I don't yell any other time, though (except maybe on the tennis court). I am basically a quiet, gentle person. But, in a car and in traffic, a certain aggressiveness takes over. Maybe the shield of sheet metal around us and our relative anonymity on the road makes us think we can get away with this sort of behavior. It shouldn't. What is the rush, anyway? Do people think that weaving in and out of traffic and not letting people other people merge on to the highway is really going to save them that much time? Is where you have to go so much more important than everyone else that it is okay to risk everyone else's safety by running a red light or pulling out in front of another car? Unless you have sirens and lights flashing on top of your car, I would suspect not.

Also, have you noticed how often there is an inverse relationship between the size of the person and the size of the vehicle? Our neighbors across the street have. They told us one time how they are amused by how Eddie and I (the six-footers) get into our two-door Volkswagens every day while our 5'6" neighbors get into their hulking SUV and full-size crew cab pickup truck. Come to think of it, I do see a lot of little women behind the wheel of some very large SUVs and some pretty big dudes on motorcycles. Are we trying to be something we are not through our cars? Or, is it sometimes dead on? I remember one day not long after I had purchased the GTI. It was parked next to Eddie's car on the street. He looked outside and said, "you know, the Volkswagens look pretty good together." I stood beside him and looked at the beige (blond) easygoing VW Beetle and the black (brunette) racy VW GTI and said with a smile, "yeah, they sure do."

Bah! Spring

This is next door at our neighbor's house. Over the last year, while we have been planting begonias and cultivating roses, this guy has been systematically removing 95% of the plant life from his property. He even went so far as to remove a large oak tree from the back. It must have cost thousands of dollars to do that. I joked that maybe he was getting ready to put in a grass tennis court, but it really is no joke. It is not that the fact that he made all these changes-- it is his property and he can do with it as he chooses within the city codes and ordinances and the bounds of civilized urban society. The problem is that he wants everyone around him to do the same and has engaged in aggressive and verbally abusive behavior to get his point across. Anyone that has been to our street knows what an unlikely and undesirable prospect it would be to carry out his plan to turn it into the surface of the moon. So, we try to stay out of his way and hope that he doesn't snap like so many twigs he has removed from his yard. In the meantime, it is not all bad. The roses get a lot more sun now.

Ahhh, Spring!

Winter seems to have abruptly ended around here. We woke up one morning and all the trees were green and the flowers blooming. One nice surprise was the rosebush that I thought would not make it through the winter. Instead, it grew to twice its size and covered itself with big, yellow roses. They are so fragrant, too. Every morning I go and clip at least three of them to bring inside. I don't think Mother Nature wants me to take them-- the bush is so thorny that the roses are almost too difficult to harvest. But, I manage. The other rosebush (with the orange roses) is not doing as well, but I will try to be patient with it. Maybe it will come around.

In the front yard, the snapdragons we planted last year came back with a vengeance. I guess they heard us talking about maybe pulling them out because the yellow ones did not match the pink begonias. We did not have the heart to pull them out after all, so we let them be and planted the begonias anyway. True, we could have picked something other than pink begonias, but they remind us of one of the parks in Krakow that we visited on our honeymoon, so they are the sentimental favorite.

Saluting the Spirit

A couple of weeks ago, I participated in "Saluting the Spirit--Yoga for Cancer," an event sponsored by Better Bodies Yoga and several other yoga studios in town to raise funds and awareness for the Wings Cancer Foundation. It was held at the new Cancer Survivor Park (if you live in Memphis, you should go). We set up our mats around the labyrinth (used for meditation) and did Sun Salutations for 30 minutes. I am the one in the pink shirt and black pants on the right side of the photo. (Note to self: don't wear a hoodie during Sun Salutations-- it gets in the way). Sun Salutations are 12 poses performed in a flowing, repetitive sequence. It looks really cool with a whole group doing it. The weather was beautiful and the energy was incredible. My arms were sore for 3 days afterward, but it was worth it. I dedicated my practice to my mom and my mother-in-law-- both cancer survivors.

Goodbye, old friend

Last week, we had to retire our beloved 1960's coffee pot. The poor thing probably made more pots of coffee than the ones in most restaurants. I started to smell something burning while the coffee was brewing. I finally discovered the burn marks on the end of the cord and the damaged prongs on the pot itself. After some consideration, we decided that a morning cup of coffee was not worth burning the house down. So, I went in search of a replacement. We like the percolator style because it matches the decor of the kitchen and it does not use the paper filters. One of the local antique stores had one for about $14, but they had not been open for several weeks. I went to several department/discount stores, and finally found one on the clearance rack at Sears (as if nobody else wanted one). I brought it home and immediately put it into service. Ahhh.

What's the minimum word count?

The other day, like so many days before it, someone referred to me as "so quiet." It is nothing that I have not heard before in one variation or another. "Too quiet," "so quiet," "you don't talk much, do ya?" or "you don't talk enough." It is one thing to say that someone is "quiet" or "reserved"-- those are observations. But, when the qualifier words (too, so, not enough) are used, it becomes a judgment that I think is unfairly applied. The implication is that we are not normal or that there is something wrong with us. I wholeheartedly disagree. Now, I realize that these comments typically come from people that talk constantly and are insecure about it. Putting me or other "quiet people" down affirms them and makes them feel better about themselves. (That is my observation or judgment). Personally, I would rather be around someone that doesn't feel the need to fill every waking second with conversation or babbling or flat-out noise as it becomes sometimes. But, since I hear this so often, I am wondering-- what is the minimum word count, anyway? I must have missed that memo or was not listening when some extrovert shouted it from the rooftop. What I do is speak when someone speaks to me or when I have something to say. If I don't have anything to say, I don't say anything. If I have work to do, I do not talk, unless my work involves a meeting or telephone call. It is an effective system for me, but apparently not for the talking police. I seem to be falling short of the word quota. If someone could give me some guidelines for basic conversational situations, I will see what I can do.

You know, there is one person in this world that stands out above all others as someone that has NEVER told me that I am too quiet or that I do not talk enough. His name is Eddie Branch. What does that say to you?

Adventures in Bikram Yoga

After a year of doing vinyasa (or "regular" yoga, as I call it), I decided to explore the mysterious, uncharted waters of bikram yoga. This style of yoga is named for this guy Bikram Choudhury, who is considered by some to be a rebel or "bad boy" of yoga because his style departs (to some extent) from traditional yoga practices. He developed it using poses from hatha yoga (you all can Google these yoga terms) specifically to rehabilitate his own knee injury, but it supposedly works every muscle and organ in the body. Bikram yoga's claim to fame is that all sessions are conducted in a room where the temperature is set at 105 degrees (like a Tucson summer) with 60% humidity (like a Memphis summer). The session consists of the same sequence of the same 26 poses, with the instructor barking out orders in one breath and telling you that it's ok to come out of a pose if you need to in the next breath. Water breaks are only allowed at certain times. Wild stuff. I think anyone going into it without any yoga experience would be blown away by it all.

Why would anyone do this to themselves? Well, I can't speak for anyone else, but after a month, I am still going a couple of times a week--even at 7:00 a.m. on Tuesdays (Perhaps the heat affects the rational judgment part of the brain). I decided to try it in the first place because I am a "heat" person. I don't mind hot temperatures and I've survived many a 5k run or tennis match under similar conditions. (I am still waiting for Mark and Katrina to move to Florida or Hawaii). Believe it or not, after a while, you don't notice the heat per se. Sure, you and everyone else in the room has sweat pouring off them, but you don't think-- "hey, it's 105 degrees in here!" What I do think is "wow! my skin looks good" and "Wow! My knees don't hurt after doing this" and "I really can touch my head to my knee!" However, it does make for a less than pleasant laundry basket. Speaking of which . . .

Namaste, everyone.

Give Joann Branch your support!

Last week, we found out that Eddie's mom, Joann, was diagnosed with breast cancer. It runs in her family, so it was not a total surprise. (Not that it made the news any easier to digest). On Wednesday, March 26, she goes in for surgery that hopefully will take care of it once and for all. Please keep her in your thoughts and prayers. She is a wonderful wife, mother, mother-in-law, grandmother, quilter, gardener, dog sitter, and the list goes on and on. We want to add "breast cancer survivor" to that list. We know she will make it through all this, but any extra prayers and good vibes sent her way will make a difference.

Poof! There goes the tax refund

Thursday morning, 8:30 a.m. Eddie and I were sitting in our accountant's office smiling because we found out that we would get a $1,200 tax refund. Just a few short hours later, the mechanic called about the GTI repairs (hood & windshield-- see previous post). He said that we could get the half-a*%ed job for about $700 or the full repair (best quality) job for about-- you guessed it-- $1,200. We thought about it for a while and decided to go ahead and get it done right. Ah, well. We enjoyed the refund while it lasted.

The moments that make you think

On Tuesday, I was headed down the Interstate on the way to work when WHAM-- the hood of the car flew up and broke the windshield. The noise was so loud-- like a gunshot or something. I actually kept driving for a second before it sank in. I had to slow down and pull over. Fortunately, there was a big shoulder on the side. I was able to make it over and safely stop the car. Even though I was away from the traffic lanes, the car shook with the wind coming across the overpass and all the trucks going by. I called Eddie, and he had a co-worker give him a ride to where I was. We managed to secure the hood and take it to the mechanic that was not too far away.

I had a feeling that something like this could happen, though it was a surprise when it actually did. We had been having trouble with the hood for several weeks. Two different mechanics would "fix" it, only to have it come up again. I guess it was only fixed if you never opened the hood again. The problem was, we had to open the hood that morning to jump start Eddie's car. I didn't think the hood closed properly afterward, but it seemed secure enough. We both had driven the car with the hood like that without incident. It seemed that our luck had finally run out. Or had it?

The first response of most people we told about the accident was wide-eyed disbelief and horror. Yes, it was an awful and scary thing to happen, but on the other hand, by some stroke of luck (or divine intervention??) there were no cars ahead, behind or to the side of me on the Interstate, so I was able to pull over without hitting anyone else. What are the chances of that? Plus, the windshield cracked but it did not break. It could have shattered and thrown pieces of glass into my face. The hood could have flown off and caused a problem in the roadway. As it turned out, I was unharmed, and we did not even have to spend money on a tow truck. (The repairs to the car are another story). When I left the house, I was frustrated because I was running late and really needed to get to the office. How my priorities shifted in an instant. Things seem random sometimes, but maybe they are not. It made me stop and think about how fortunate I was in that moment and really most of the time. I can't really complain. Someone is watching over me.