Farewell to Summer

Summer 2009 left today. The end of summer is always a little bit melancholy. I noticed the transition Sunday morning when I racked my bike in the pitch black for the Trek Triathlon. There was nervous chatter about the lake temperature (cold). I have noticed lately that mornings have a chilly bite and it is harder to leave a warm bed for a cold run or swim. The farmers' markets are chock full of this summer's harvest. My internship starts Monday. There is transition everywhere. Summer 2009 was a great summer. The warm days resulting in vegetables, herbs, fruit by the basketful. We ate well. There were bike rides: on Cape Cod, in Boston, in Bellevue, in the mountains. There were sunrise runs where I could leave my fretting and worries out on the road and out of my house. There were swims in the pool, in the lakes; black water and brilliant blue sky. There was a perfect day of hiking and pondering on Whidbey Island where I had nowhere to be except there. I had driven P up to a cancer retreat and my sole purpose for the day was to simply be until she was ready for a ride home. That day was a gift. A gift to spend a day celebrating the beauty that surrounds us all in this corner of the planet.

 Last night Ken and I biked down to the lake and watched the sun set over the Olympics. Chasing Ken's bike home down along the lake through the fading golden light and shadows with the bunnies bounding back into the bushes was the perfect last summer night. He promised me that soon there will be pumpkins and squash at the markets. There will be holiday gatherings with friends and family. There will be snuggly sweaters and the magic golden light that only happens in the fall. Yes, fall is coming and all will be well but for right now, I am cherishing these last final (literally) minutes of summer.

Addiction in the kitchen

Today I spent my last day at PMSC as a volunteer. PMSC is a day shelter for adults over 55. Many who visit here are homeless. This is a place where you can get a hot lunch, often a hot breakfast, classes, or just a sense of warmth and safety. For 2 years I volunteered in the kitchen and then facilitated a diabetes support group. Managing diabetes when you don't know a) what your next meal is or where it will come from b) when you might have a kitchen to call your own c) security and stability is a challenge I cannot begin to understand. The stories are funny, tragic, often long-winded, and always wildly entertaining.

Today as I walked in the kitchen I asked one of the staff members, J, "how are you?". "Homeless" was the answer. He is 3 months out of a stint in rehab so I stopped and talked. "How long have you been homeless? What is going on? Talk to me." He talked. He talked matter of factly as they all do about rehab, about how noone wants to rent to a junkie, about his regrets for the drugs, prison, the relapses, all of it.

He talked until my single attendee for the diabetes group stopped by and yelled into the kitchen. "Misha, I NEED you. My blood sugar is over 200. WHEN are you starting the group?? I NEED you." I have never had that reaction before, and I was wary of what state of sobriety (or not) this gentleman might be experiencing. Actually I was pleased. As grumpy as I was due to yet another eye infection and as many times as noone has showed up: today was great. I felt useful. We talked. We talked about specific choices for snacks, for fiber, and how to manage in a candybar now and again. The candybar is not going away anytime soon and we both knew that. More calm, he left for his walk to get his blood sugar down below 150 before lunch...... and a donut.

Back in the kitchen, L, grumps at me about where have I been, and why haven't I been working in his kitchen, and have I been off sleeping and being lazy. This is his way of saying I have been missed. When I share that my internship is starting, he gets somber. "Good luck with that. Noone deserves it better. They are shutting down the Lazarus shelter and this place is about to get crazy. Best that you not be here when THAT happens" When I ask why they would shut down a shelter just as the weather changes he gets even more gentle. "Baby girl, noone cares about the homeless in this town. There is only one you." I will never hug Leroy. When I try and tell him thank you for teaching me so much he grumps and walks away. That is his way. But he knows that he means the world to me. And I know I mean the world to him.

While I have not yet gotten permission to tell their stories and give a voice to their experiences, I carry their stories with me. I carry their kindness and laughter with me. I learned more about drugs, poverty, how to get a bed in a shelter, and which pawn shops carry the best selections of TVs in that kitchen than I ever thought imaginable. I never expected to volunteer so long at this place. I never expected that some of my greatest teachers would be the old, the addicted, the recovering, the crazy, the forgotten. But they were and they are, and I will not forget them.

I found the prototype for the herb garden of my dreams. In the courtyard of the Inn at Langley, I found nirvana. Diamonds of herbs bordered by boxhedges. Tomatoes protected from invaders by cosmos loaded up with honeybees (I recently read that caterpillars and some nasty bugs are afraid of buzzing bees - who knew!) I wandered around sampling a leaf of this, a leaf of that. THIS I could do in my yard. Langley is basically a giant garden trying to be a town so it is no surprise that I found an herb garden that knocked me off my feet. Later in the evening I found a vegetable garden so wonderful I spent more time in it than at the wedding reception I was attending. I got home to stare sadly at my pots of herbs that are picked clean. I am just fresh out of herbs. Even the spearmint has been completely used up. The chives are hiding among the patio squares to avoid the same fate but their days are numbered. As the summer threatens to wind down transform into fall I am again considering my garden. In my newfound favorite magainze "Herb Companion" I am finding all sorts of resources, along with more sorbet recipes to make with herbs, to soundbites for why to incorporate as many herbs into all aspects of daily life as possible. The soundbites remind me of what I have just finished reading in The Body Toxic, by Nena Baker - yikes!

I'll leave you with pictures of what a herb garden can be....and what mine will look (vaguely) like..in time.

ABCs of Mindful Eating

"Tell Me What You Eat and I'll tell you who you are." Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin.

I want you to think about eating differently. No, wait, let me back up. I want us all to re-examine the what, when, why, and how we eat. There are countless blogs about this food and that nutrient: this supplement and that miracle cure. I spent the weekend up on Whidbey Island; the woo abounds in every corner shop. Take the right pill, use the right soap, chant the right mantra, and hallelujah, amen, you will be perfected.

Forgive me but I think it is a whole lot simpler than that. And a whole lot harder.

One of my favorite books is "Eat, Taste, Heal", by Thomas Yarema, MD, Daniel Rhoda, and Chef Johnny Brannigan. It is an "Ayurvedic guidebook and cookbook for modern living." There is a section on the ABCs: Ambiance, Blessing, Consumption. Me, being me, desperately wants to change it to: Ambiance, Blessing, Companionship. Get THAT straight, and the eating will come, in time. So let's chat about the ABCs.

Ambience: How often do I eat in front of the nightly news, in front of my laptop, in my car, standing over the sink? How often am I frantically squishing a Hammer gel in my mouth mid-run, mid-tri, sprinting into the locker room before a hellish Wade workout. Now, let's flip it. How often do I cook slowly, light candles, set a table? When was the last time we had company over for dinner? When was the last time I had a delightful time chatting with dinner companions I had never met before? I give myself a score of about 50/50. This summer we have been blessed with a farm dinner, family dinners, amazing dinners. This summer I have also blown through a lot of hammer gels: I think I like the espresso flavor best but then again I am not entirely sure gels have flavors!

Blessing: I have blogged it before, and I'll blog it again. I believe in the case for grace. If nothing else - inhale your breath before you inhale your food. At a wedding this past weekend, I slipped away into the vegetable garden and prowled among the late harvest berries. I experienced full-on basil envy. I was amazed at the drifts of parsley in the small orchard. I believe if we each had a small garden - either a pot of herbs or a garden with rows of chard and tomatoes, we would eat with more gratitude. I believe the old adage "never go to bed angry" is wrong. I believe the adage should be "never eat angry". I truly believe you do more harm eating angry than sleeping off a rage.

Companionship: We enjoyed one of the Dog Mountain Farm dinners and had a delightful time with two sweet ladies who shared the secret of the Mercer Island Fig Festival, and secrets of growing some herb that I can't remember. Earlier this summer a nephew spent an entire Sunday cooking a meal for us that was beyond heavenly. I have taken a lot of meals to a lot of people this summer facing a health crisis. Funny - we instinctively know to take food when someone is in crisis. The challenge is this: how often do we offer food to avoid a crisis? I believe in more picnics and dinner parties, and less dinners alone with Channel 5. Consider this part of health care reform.

To follow the ABCs, the basics takes time and thought. Time and thought is something that as a culture we don't equate with food. We think of fast food, convenince paks, take-out. It is time to re-think how, when, what, and why we eat. It is time to re-think of who we are.

Alice's Restaurant

I have finally learned how to cook.
I was always a pretty good cook: never one for following recipes and always one to cook with the seasons but I have always loved herbs. I have dreamed of herb gardens and really knowing how to cook with herbs. I am still not there but I have found the key. I am suddenly starting to cook the way I always wanted to - always knew that I could make food THIS good, just didn't know how.

The key is Alice. And yes I am talking about the one and only Alice Waters. Last fall on a quick visit to Oakland, we found Chez Panisse and somehow got a table upstairs in the cafe. I ordered chicken. I remember that chicken. I never knew chicken could taste like THAT. After watching the movie Julie and Julia about a New Yorker who cooks every recipe in Julia Child's book I thought (like everyone else who sees the movie) - how fun would that be. Only.... not Julia. Not French, and heavy. I opened Alice Waters' book, "The Art of Simple Food" and found what I had always been looking for. Herb Nirvana.

Lesson 1 is sauces. All the sauces are basically fistfuls of herbs bound together with a vinegarette, or butter, or some other emulsion but herbs. I just never used enough herbs in the past. Alice gave me the ratios that really work, not just sortof work when I played in the kitchen before. I got the idea that this would be good when I read "my favorite butter sauce is deep green." Suddenly, I got it. Herbs in abundance. The flavors of our food started to sing.

Our first dinner from Lesson 1:
Grilled salmon with basil butter sauce. Probably over the top on salmon but jaw dropping amazing.
Green Bean Tomato salad with basil, violets, and a light vinegerette. The beans and tomatos were from my mom's garden, the herbs and violets from my front door. This salad was the highlight of the meal.
Roasted beets I just happened to have in the fridge kissed with sea salt and just a little olive oil.


My pre-race dinner:
Potatos with salse verde. No, not Mexican salsa, Italian salsa verde: parsley by the fistful with capers, lemon zest and garlic.
Grilled salmon with lime.
Sliced tomatos toped with basil leaves that snuck over into the salsa verde to play.

Post-race dinner:
Lamb patties studded with spearmint leaves. Lots of spearmint leaves
Tomatoes with cucumbers and lemon balm leaves in a vinegerette and just enough goat cheese to add creamines.
Ken had fresh bread with leftover butter sauce.
We had Coconut Bliss for dessert and you know what, the tomatoes were better. We gave up on bliss and went back to salad.

In one weekend, I used more herbs than I typically use in a week. Sunday afternoon I asked my husband, "how do you want to spend the afternoon?" The answer, "anything that involves cooking with Alice." Lesson 2 is salads. I thought I knew salads too but now I am thrilled to learn what a salad can be!

Oh I know - I should add recipes. I actually am following the recipes from this book. I literally dream about them. But currently I am too busy eyeing my front and back yard to figure out where to stuff more herb plants. Stay tuned for the expanding herb garden and Lesson 2!

It's Sunday Morning: Danskin Sunday Morning

This morning marked the 17th year of the Danskin in Seattle and 20 years of the Danskin Women's Triathlon Series. The Danskin honors women who face their fears and take on challenges: be it cancer to wearing lycra in public. The Danskin is also a fundraiser for Susan G. Komen. This event honors the spirit of all women and has a spirit found nowhere else.

This morning marked the 6th time I registered for this race and the 5th time I actually started (and finished) the race. Each summer I train with a group. It is sortof like sumer camp. But this amazing group of women inspires me. Oh sure, there are new faces each year and faces move on. This year, we trained in the memory of Leah McCollough: a woman whose heart and spirit was so big, it could not be contained. Leah passed last fall from a sudden heart attack.

This year was different. While my team dedicated this year's race to Leah - I trained and raced for Patti. Patti is fighting Stage 3 cancer. This intention added a whole new level to the event. I am incredibly lucky - in addition to an entire team and Coach Cathy, I had Ironman Carol chasing me around and going over - literally - every inch of water, bike route, run route with me over and over and at ever increasing heart rates. There was one morning where I had to ask "Please stop", my hands were numb, my chest was doing something ...odd. Carol pushed - hard. But I still hear her calm voice... "Nice...nice pace....NICE."

On Wednesday, Patti took infusion #6. She hates Wednesdays. I posted on her blog the following:

Red is your new favorite color. It is the color of Christmas, and Valentine's Day, and Buddhist robes. It is the color of romance and life. Red is the ultimate color of speedy little sports cars. Red is the clear, sparkly color hanging in an iv bag that will bathe every cell you have with protection from wandering cancer cells. Red is the color of healing. Tomorrow starts cycle 6: on schedule, on time, onward. She called and thanked me for that post - it got her through drip #6.

Wednesday night - Cathy handed out team shirts. They were red. On the back was a quote... from Leah. Of course. I never knew Leah as well as some but I am sure she didn't mind. From her vantage point with the angels, she knew how to help - she knew what to give. Leah had fabulous fashion sense: I used to tell her "some day, take me shopping: you, girl, have style." So of course, the team shirts were red. Leah is dressing me from the great beyond.

Sunday dawned - a perfect morning. Sunday mornings are the mornings that Patti comes out of cycle and reverts to her bubbly, positive self. A perfect morning to start to a race. A race I had trained for like no other. And while I had a great time and a great race, there was a catch. The spirits of Danskin took my timing chip and sank it to the bottom of Lake Washington. Yup - I lost it and have no official time. At first I was really frustrated and then I remembered my intention for this race. This was not my race to finish. The spirit of Danskin acted as only happens at THIS event. This event that honors the strength of spirit, and the friends that see us through.

Tonight I posted again on Patti's blog:
My official time is DNF - as it should be.
This race is yours - your official time comes next summer and it will read: Survivor.

A little bit longer and I'll be fine.

Today was a home day. Sort laundry, hydrate. Catch up on emails, hydrate. Make doctor appointments, hydrate. Apparently today was a day to catch up on tv watching, and yes hydrate: I have a race fast approaching. About the tv watching....

This afternoon I had the tv on and saw a segment on Nick Jonas. He apparently is one of the Jonas Brothers and they, apparently, are people to get excited over. Nick has diabetes. Managing diabetes while on stage and on tour is quite a trick and in the segment of whatever show was on, he talked about just how hard that is. He is working with Bayer to create medical dogtags with lyrics from one of his songs that read "A little bit longer and I'll be fine." Having just come home from diabetes camp, I was touched and intrigued. Just having worn a pump for a couple of days (saline - not insulin) I cannot imagine having to be tied to a pump or injection syringe 24/7 for life. There is no break, just a non-negotiable rule that if you don't manage highs and lows all day every day, it will end badly for you.

Earlier today, i was folding laundry and James Earl Jones was on The View. James Earl Jones: the voice of CNN, the voice of Darth Vader, a voice that stutters - like me. I had heard he never, ever did interviews to protect his livelihood but here he was on The View chatting it up. I stopped and stared - and cried. Approximately 3% of the adult population in the U.S. stutter. It can be one of the most isolating, frustrating, despairing, depressing, disorders on earth. I have been exceedingly blessed to have always had great support. But I face the dark place from time to time. When the mouth locks and all of my tricks fail, talking is an awful place to be. I like Nick Jonas's dog tag - a much nicer expression that what I sometimes want to snarl out at people, "if you'll just give me a frickin' minute, I'll talk for myself - thank you very #$%^@! much." Aaahh that is why he is famous! "A little bit longer and I"ll be fine."

My exceedingly sweet husband brought home the current issue of Wired magazine. It contained an article on spasmodic dysphonia that afflicted Dilbert creator Scott Adams. Spasmodic dysphonia "SD" affects the basal ganglia of the brain and your speech abandons you. Without warning - yikes! The article was amazingly articulate on describing how speech takes on rules and every day the rules are different. One day you can speak, the next you cannot. One day Scott Adams could read Dr. Seuss, the next he could not. One day singing helped: nope - not the next day. I could relate to "the rules". Stutterers have rules too. One day "W' words are impossible, the next day it is words that start with "T". The best part - "the rules" do not arrive with breakfast. Knowledge of "the rules" arrive when they damn well decide to show up. I used to order a latte every morning on my way to work or school to learn "the rules" for the day. That trick didn't always work but at least I got a warm cup of comfort out of the deal.

I spent quite a bit of time with P recently and had the amazing experience of being with her as she came out of a chemo cycle. From curled up in a ball in bed trying not to moan and scare me to quietly asking for popcorn with lots of butter (the smell of popcorn helps), to jumping out of bed Sunday morning all chirpy and bubbly and stating "I think we should walk up the street and get a bagel". She called the other day to share she can travel in a couple of months and wanted me to fly with her. The phone call ended something like "a little bit longer and I"ll be fine."

I have talked to a lot of people facing non-negotiable health issues: from Celiac to chronic pain. Diabetes to depression. It took Scott Adams 3+ years to find a medical answer. For those with diabetes, cancer, a stutter or whatever else, we are still waiting. We can all learn a lot from Nick Jonas, Scott Adams, and James Earl Jones. We all have a challenge to face - and manage. We can learn from, and be gentle with, each other.

A little bit longer and we'll be fine.