A Time to Pray

I'm taking a course on prayer offered by the Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF), the UU online congregation.   I had been exploring prayer as a spiritual practice and am enjoying new practices and approaches suggested in the course, as well as the ideas of my classmates.   


We've had two lively discussions in our class forum, one on the meaning of prayer for each of us and one on conflicts regarding prayer requests, both of which end up centering on who hears prayers and why we pray.  Being UUs, few of us have traditional concepts of a deity as omnipresent, omnipotent, and omnibenevolent; in other words, we don't think a) there is anyone, i.e. an intercessory, who hears our prayers and b) that prayers have a direct, predictable, or controllable outcome.


I wrote, as an introduction:


I am very new to prayer. Raised an atheist (in Texas!), I've been a UU for about 8 years in my local brick and mortar congregation in Connecticut, where we observe silence and rarely address the "spirit of Life and Light." Of course, I saw prayer as a child at football games (always "In Jesus's name we pray") and such, but never prayed or understood prayer (or the theology behind it), especially because I don't really believe in a personal, responsive divinity. However, struggling through my own recent health challenges and watching friends and family also deal with challenges, and having also started down a Buddhist path of meditation (which is almost the opposite of prayer--the emptying of the mind of thoughts instead of the focusing of it--I'm still contemplating this), I find myself wanting to acknowledge, to reach out, to address, to thank something . . . else. I read Simply Pray by Erik Walker Wikstrom, which I found a great introduction for a neophyte like myself, especially as he addresses prayer for those who don't believe in a traditional prayer-answering God but instead use it to be mindful, grateful, etc. And so I was thrilled to see this CLF class. . . . 


This paragraph, from the beginning of Wikstrom's book, solidified for me not only what I was hoping to do, i.e. connect with something sacred, but also how, by just doing it, and encouraged me to overcome the obstacle of having nothing to pray to:

"If you long to connect with the Sacred, if you desire to live a life that is more in touch with the Holy, stop listening. If you have given up on an anthropomorphic deity--the old white guy with the long white beard, or any of his stand-ins--yet can't figure out what to put in its place, stop looking for something and start simply looking around you. Notice those places in your life where you have felt yourself in the presence of the Holy, remember those experiences in which you have heard your connectedness; seek in your own life--your own feelings, your own moments--those places where you have encountered, or are encountering, the Sacred. In other words, simply pray. Pray without any preconceived notion of what you're doing or why. Simply do it, and see what happens."

Before I considered prayer an option for me, when people would ask me to pray for them or their loved ones, I would say yes, but wouldn't use the word prayer (likely "I'll keep you in my thoughts"). But instead of explaining to them that I didn't believe in an intercessory divinity or even in the power of prayer the way it is often commonly understand (as in having an effect on that divinity), I translated their prayer requests into my own spiritual practice, which was, for the most part, to think of them, keep them in my thoughts, wish them the best, remember them in their time of need, light a candle during "Candles of Community" at my brick & mortar church, etc. It was never a good time to discuss theology, especially because the phrase "pray for me" is used colloquially, almost secularly, by believers of all stripes. 

Now, while I still do the same things, I consider it prayer, no qualms about thinking it so. What has changed? Me. I'm not as literal in my approach to spiritual language anymore (though I recognize that some might be appalled at my definitions!); UUism has opened me up to experiences, to terms I rejected out of hand before (I guess I was something of a fundamentalist atheist!). Do I believe my prayer goes to a higher power? No, but they often do. And I do it for them. Focusing my mind in a statement of intention of hope or love or peace, call it a prayer, is for me more about the recognition and acknowledgment of my fellow human being than of a divinity. And I am grateful when they do the same for me, not because a deity has thought of me, but because a friend has.




This week has focused on labyrinths (not to be confused with Labyrinthe, the Jim Henson/David Bowie movie Mama and I watched yesterday when she wasn't feeling well) and on dialogue prayers (i.e. talking to the divine, however we conceive it).  I've explored labyrinths before (here and here) but never so consciously as a prayer--we are supposed to think of a prayer/thought/idea and then trace our finger around a paper labyrinth while concentrating.  I can't wait to see what the next three weeks hold. 

Is it a Book if You Don't Read It?

The Bonesetter's Daughter.  Freakonomics.  Mr. Popper's Penguins.  Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.  Room.  Secrets of Droon.  The Lady and the Unicorn.  Mary Poppins.  Shakespeare: The World as Stage.  The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency.  Reading Lolita in Tehran. Nuture Shock. 101 Dalmatians. Fight Club.


What do these have in common?

They are all audiobooks that we have listened to recently.  We have all become aficionados of the media:  Mama listens to books almost two hours a day during her commute, the first to embrace audiobooks and the one to choose all the ones we hear; the kids, who almost can't ride in the car without their recent book; and now me, the last to embrace them, who listens while I walk on my treadmill for 45 minutes everyday.  I had heard Mama's stories when she drove me to various appointments or the kids' when we all went somewhere together, and all of them talk about what they were listening to.  But I've never much been one for really enjoying audio, beyond music--I don't listen to NPR, I read it.  But I had to find some way to pass the time on the treadmill and it was too much to read sometimes (with my head bent); music alone is never enough and I can't always find someone to talk to on the phone).  So, I'm listening to my first book, The Lady and the Unicorn by Tracey Chevalier.  I don't follow every word and find myself wishing I could see a name, a phrase on the page, or wishing I could re-read or skip sections.  I can't control the pacing, the emphasis, or the inflection, which is determined by the acting of the readers.  Audiobooks are somewhere between reading and performance (movies, theater, tv) for me; neither fully literary nor fully dramatic, neither fully within my control (i.e. my interpretation of the written word) or fully beyond it (where I am a passive recipient of another's vision).  I know none of the research on hearing vs. reading a book and am not sure I much care at this point.  But I feel, for me, that it's certainly not the same, though I'll be curious to see what the cumulative effects are--will I remember audiobooks better or not, will I uncover the literary value if I hear it instead of see it?  Of course, originally, all stories were transmitted this way; but we are now much more a literate society (okay, yes, some would say we are not as literate as we once were, but overall we are less oral).  Still I'm glad of my audiobook so far, enjoying the story about medieval artists and weavers and a real work of art more than I would a similar hour of tv.   But I can tell I haven't embraced audiobooks altogether . . . because I still plan to read the book someday.

How I Can Be Sick

I've just finished the most inspiring book, How to Be Sick, by Toni Bernhard.  It's a Buddhist-inspired exploration of chronic illness and pain with exercises in mindfulness to help cope and adapt, based on the author's own life, which was inexorably altered by a virus ten years ago.  I finished it in less than a day and will probably re-read it again this week.

It is powerful.  It is true.  It is useful.  I found myself agreeing, "Yes, that's how it is," or planning, "That will totally work for me," on every page, as Bernhard recounts her own struggles with isolation, longing for health, frustrations with limitations, and sadness about loss, and then explains the various techniques she employs to still her mind as she embraces compassion, equanimity, and loving kindness for herself and others.  Some of my favorites:

• Drop-it Practice:  Summon a thought of the past that troubles you ("I wish I'd been able to go on that trip") and then drop it, focusing instead on something present, preferably sensory.  Do the same with a negative or troublesome thought of the future ("What if I don't feel better for Christmas?")
• Byron Katie's Inquiry Practice which ends with a "turnaround":  take a thought that troubles you and turn it into its opposite and contemplate ways that it is true, such as "I hate being in pain" becomes "I don't hate being in pain because there is less pressure to do what I don't want to do" (just a  random example).  
• Four Sublime States Practice:  apply the four sublime states (karuna, metta, upekkha, and mudita, or compassion, equanimity, loving kindness, and sympathetic joy) to your troubles to slow or stop the wheel of suffering (dukkha).  My favorite is metta, or equanimity, or this is my life, not good, not bad, just as it is.  
• Weather Practice:  recognize that life, and your emotions and thoughts, are like the weather, unpredictable and variable and impermanent.  You can rage like a thunderstorm and then smile like the sun.
• Labeling Practice (my name for it):  state objectively what is happening when you are upset or troubled.  For instance, if I stand outside and fret about not being able to tumble in the leaves with the kids, I would say, "Woman, outside in the yard" and go from there,  having grounded myself in the present.

I thought it was interesting that Bernhard has been mostly unable to meditate, having had a dedicated twice-a-day practice, because I too have found it hard to meditate and have been disappointed with myself.  Now I realize there are these other practices I can turn my mind to fully.  I also appreciated how, while touching on the pain, disappointment, loss, etc of her experiences, she did not dwell overly much, didn't relive the pain minute-by-minute.  She wrote about this regarding right speech, which is supposed to be true, kind, and helpful; at some point in her journey, she realized that regaling everyone with every symptom and update was neither kind nor helpful, and so practiced engaging and conversing with others on other topics.  I'm trying to practice this too (but not here).  In fact, "practice" is the operative word in her book, as she notes that she has to practice and does not expect to be perfect, embracing and forgiving times when she is overwhelmed, showing compassion to herself.  Such is the path of those struggling with chronic illness and pain. Not only did I find a sympathetic companion on this path but also learned more about Buddhism (she follows Theravadin Buddhism, but touches on Zen; I'm still so new that I haven't chosen a particularly Buddhist path) and about future resources, such as Byron Katie, the haiki of Issa (my favorite that she includes:  "don't worry spiders/I keep house/casually"), Sharon Salzberg's Lovingkindness, Sylvia Boorstein's Happiness is an Inside Job, Charlotte Joko Beck's Everyday Zen, Thich Nhat Hanh's Miracle of Mindfulness and biography of Buddha Old Path White Clouds, among others. Best of all, I'm looking forward to reading her posts at her blog, Turning Straw into Gold.

Spinning Right Round, Baby

Mama has vertigo.  From an inner ear imbalance caused by sinus pressure.  She is dizzy, nauseous, groggy from a variety of meds, and all-round fairly miserable.  And home.  Because driving makes her car sick.  Actually, being awake makes her "car sick."  But she's still working, even on a conference call right now.  Poor thing.  Get better soon!

Warm Air Rises

I've made No-Knead Harvest Bread twice:  once it was fabulous but once it was awful.  The difference:  the overnight rise.  The first time I made it, the dough didn't rise at all, almost seemed to dry and toughen somewhat.  I realized it was probably too cold in our mid-fall kitchen, not near the mid 70s it ideally should be to rise.  So, Mama did some research and we had a plan:  put the dough in a warm oven overnight.  So, combining suggestions online, we turned the oven on to 400F for 2 minutes (not preheated and then waited two minutes!), turned off the heat, turned on the light, and place the covered dough (in an oven-proof dish) near the light, along with a pot of boiling water from the stove.  And it worked!  The dough rose and the oven was still warm and moist.  And the finished bread was delicious--not too sweet but hearty and flavorful.  


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No-Knead Harvest Bread

• 3 1/4 cups all-purpose flour (King Arthur, of course!)
• 1 cup whole wheat flour (ditto!  You can also use white whole wheat)
• 2 teaspoons salt
• 1/2 teaspoon instant yeast
• 1 3/4 cups cool water (we actually used warm, as per other no-knead recipes)
• 3/4 cup dried cranberries
• 1/2 cup golden raisins (we used chopped apricots instead)
• 1 cup coarsely chopped pecans or walnuts (we had walnuts, but fairly finely chopped)

1) Mix the flours, salt, yeast, and water in a large bowl. Stir, then use your hands to mix and form a sticky dough.

2) Work the dough just enough to incorporate all the flour, then work in the fruit and nuts.

3) Cover the bowl with plastic wrap, and let it rest at room temperature overnight, or for at least 8 hours; it'll become bubbly and rise quite a bit, so use a large bowl.

4) Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface, and form it into a log or round loaf to fit your 14" to 15" long lidded stoneware baker; 9" x 12" oval deep casserole dish with cover; or 9" to 10" round lidded baking crock. (We just put it in two regular loaf pans--could have probably have made a big loaf in one pan)

5) Place the dough in the lightly greased pan, smooth side up.

6) Cover and let rise at room temperature for about 2 hours, until it's become puffy. It should rise noticeably, but it's not a real high-riser.

7) Place the lid on the pan, and put the bread in the cold oven. Set the oven temperature to 450°F.

8) Bake the bread for 45 to 50 minutes, then remove the lid and continue to bake for another 5 to 15 minutes, until it's deep brown in color, and an instant-read thermometer inserted into the center registers about 205°F. Remove the bread from the oven, turn out onto a rack, and cool before slicing. King Arthur Flour

Viva Zuccotti!

Protesters were forcibly removed and arrested in the darkness of the middle of the night by police, who tried to maintain a media blackout by keeping journalists away, all on the order of a wealthy leader for the benefit of corporate interests.

Sounds like something in a authoritarian state ruled by a dictator, where pro-democracy protesters fight for their freedom and very lives?

Except, of course, this was New York City.

I was disappointed, depressed, ashamed.  But like many enablers, not enough to do something about it directly.

The New Ice Age

I have a new favorite kitchen secret:  frozen greens!  Yep, frozen, organic, chopped kale and collards from Whole Foods.  Bud will eat it straight up.  Sis ignores it in soup, not bothering to pick it out because neither the taste nor the texture offend her.  Which means frozen greens aren't much like fresh but they a) don't go bad in the fridge quickly and b) are always available to toss in things.  Sure, I could buy fresh, chop, cook, and freeze, but, well, I haven't (and Sis didn't eat those when I did).  I actually put greens in chicken and dumplings (ours has more veggies than Gommie's) last night and added huge handfuls to my pasta lenticchie.  I might even throw some into my chickpea biryani today.  So, glad to have a little extra green on the table.  Especially because it's actually being eaten!

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Chickpea Biryani


1 small onion, chopped
1 bell pepper, chopped
2 teaspoons olive oil
1 small sweet potato, diced
8 oz cauliflower, cut into small florets
1 1/2 cups cooked chickpeas (if canned, drained and rinsed)
2 teaspoons garam masala
1 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon turmeric
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
2 cups stock

Saute onion and bell pepper in oil.  Place in crockpot with remaining ingredients.  Cook on LOW6-8 hours.

Vegan Slow Cooker

Germs, Germs Everywhere

Seems like everyone has the sniffles.  Repeatedly.  More than usual.

And Mama Teacher's school's nurse blames it on a new law in Connecticut:  the Green Cleaning Products Law, which requires schools to use eco-friendly, safe cleaning products instead of their usual bleach, petroleum-based products, and anti-bacterials.  The teachers can't even have wipes or hand sanitizer (though, I re-read the law and it seems these might be exempt.  I'm no lawyer though).

And it shows.  At her school alone, whooping cough and Fifths Disease have gone around twice, plus chicken pox, strep, and now pneumonia.

I'm not actually saying that's a bad thing though (except for the pregnant teachers).  Rather it points to the lack of immunity of children, something that clearly needs to be boosted.  So, beyond being green and safe, this new law seems to be healthy too, just not in the way I think they expected.

5:55

I don't know where it started--probably with my mom, as childhood things often do--but somewhere I picked up the superstition, or the game really, of making a wish whenever the clock showed repeated numbers.  Of course, it only comes true if you don't look at the clock again until the number changes.  Sorta like wishing on the first star or a bale of hay ("bale of hay, bale of hay, make a wish, and go away", where you're not supposed to look at them again.  I mean, in a way, it's even like birthday candles--you wish on the flames and then blow them out.  Does anyone else do these things, beyond the candles?

Anyway, that's why I posted about making a wish at 11:11 on 11/11/11.  Actually, 5:55 is the usual wishing hour in our house, now that the kids aren't home for 2:22 or 3:33 and are outside playing at 4:44.  We find ourselves eating dinner everyday and making wishes on the digital clocks at 5:55.  Bud will wish on the microwave and Sis on the stove (and sometimes these are a minute apart) and then they tell each other when it's safe.  And they're very careful not to tell anyone their wishes, though I understand they each have a list of them in their diaries.

I like how for just a minute we stop everything, pay attention to time, and embrace the moment.

Hidden Fairy Houses

A beautiful, sunny, warm yet windy (the kind of wind, once a year, that strips the trees of most of their fall glory) November day, so we were outside playing baseball, excavating boulders, and building these:

Make a Wish

11/11/11 @ 11:11

The Best Medicine

From today . . .

• the kids running to hug me when they got home
• talking to a friend on the phone
• getting email from another friend
• riding in the car and chatting with another friend
• pizza
• yellow and red fall leaves creating an orange glow outside
• seeing a hawk land on a tree branch
• watching squirrels chance each other around our tree
• "the biggest plate of nachos ever"
• coconut ice cream
• "Glee"
• listening to my audiobook as I walked on my treadmill
• the kids enthusiastically congratulating me as I sat for longer than two seconds before standing up
• play baseball in the waning light (and having each kid hit several homeruns)
• seeing Mama midday
• hot tea in my favorite mug
• two purring cats
• my new slip-on shoes (very supportive Merrills)
• receiving support and encouragement from my PT friend
• blogging
• taking pictures of the leaves
• looking forward to a three-day weekend
• thinking about our Thanksgiving menu
• weather just warm enough to wear a skirt
• my soft pink blanket
• Harry Potter Legos
• thinking about holiday cookies
• chili recipes (and finding some frozen in the fridge for dinner!)
• dance party!
• pot pie crusts
• inspiring readings (like, right now, here)

I feel so much better already.

Thanks!

Thanks for the ride, Mrs. S!  Hope you found your way home.

Tug O'War

So, the medical journey continues this week, but it feels more like a tug o'war.  After my doctor's rejection of my PT's diagnosis, the PT today rejected more forcefully his theory of discogenic pain.  She had more than one good point, but my favorite was that I should choose the path that actually had some options, somewhere to go (which, really, my doctor doesn't).  But she also admitted that my case is more complicated and that medical back-up is necessary, in the form of some specialists in, of course, NYC.  This time a gynecologist, perhaps the rheumatologist, and, if I wanted, a pain psychologist.  Beyond the muscle/ligament issue, she wondered about underlying causes of systemic inflammation and hormonal fluctuation (if that's what I have!)--virus?  disease?  hormone imblance?  Yep.  More things to consider and worry about.  And all the while, an insistence on continuing the therapy techniques she's using which are, well, painful (TMI: internal manipulation of my coccyx.  'Nuff said).  


After the appointment, which was both reassuring (because I think she's partially on the right track with the causes of pain) and disconcerting (because it hurts), I finally got in touch with my much-beloved previous physical therapist, who's been out of the country for the last six plus weeks.  And she had even more good points:  therapy shouldn't hurt like that and there should have been some improvement in four visits.  But best of all, she observed that my new PT is trying very hard to release muscles that don't want to release without addressing the underlying cause.  Which encapsulates my fear in a nutshell:  I'm afraid these visits are going to cause more harm, in addition to the pain and discomfort that follow each visit.  So my old PT suggested her own therapist, who is magical and, in her words, fifty times more intuitive than she is.  Wow.  


Sure, it's more appointments and evaluations, and new decisions about whether to see PT #1 and her specialists or PT#2 who comes highly recommended.  Or meet the second while continuing with the first?  More confusion.  More decisions.  But at least it's something.


Though, it's not much of the break I'd hoped for.

Driveway by Haring

Sis as a Silly Soccer Player Holding Trophy (ball and goal not shown here)

A Penguin for Bud

Bud as an Underwear-Clad Gorilla with a Banana

Hogwarts by Bud

A Bunny by Sis

Sis's Magic Carpet

Inspired by our visit to the Met:

The Marvelous Met

Our visit to the Met yesterday was astounding.  Of course, I always love going to the Met, but this was momentous for a variety of reasons:  I hadn't been since before April, when I reinjured my back, missing several exhibitions I had hoped to see; I still find standing on hard surfaces for a long time a challenge and the floors at the Met are stone; and I had long awaited the reopening of the Islamic galleries, now the Art of Arab Lands and it just opened to rave reviews (see also here for a discussion of the challenges of presenting Islamic art).

The new galleries, officially galleries for the Art of Arab Lands, Turkey, Iran, Central Asia, and Later South Asia (yes, that is way too long, but it conveys less a false monolithic entity and more the diversity that was a vast region over 1500+ years), are glorious (see here in pics from the NYTimes and the Met):

Look at those floors in the introductory gallery!  (You can't see it here, but one gallery had glass lanterns hanging above the historical objects which inspired them)  And the alternately warm and dramatic lighting in the other galleries!  The replication of both palatial and intimate settings to engage directly with the objects! The labels were informative, but not too, and were well placed.  I applaud both the designers and the curators.  Of course, my favorite space, the space I remembered from eight plus years ago, before the galleries closed, the one Mama had never seen until I took her, on what was our ultimate date at the Met (followed by a walk down Fifth and dinner at Carnegie Deli one Friday night), was the Damascus Room, a receiving room bringing together so many of the arts on display, with the wonderful trickling fountain:

It was even more wonderful than I had recalled.  It, and all the objects, shine in this new interpretation and installation, such an improvement over the old, shabby galleries.  Warm, inviting, comfortable, were words that came to mind--these are galleries I will visit again and again, being happy to wander and linger.  Now, I'm not fully conversant with the breadth and depth of the arts of Arab lands, having only touched upon them in classes on other topics or in exhibitions tangentially related.  But for the purpose of our first view of the galleries and an introduction of the art to the kids, that was not a hindrance, especially because of the visual power of the objects.

The kids had a scavenger hunt that we'd picked up from the information desk and so were on the lookout for numerous objects, from details in manuscript illuminations to repeating patterns in large carpets, from ceramic plates to metal incense burners.  Between finds, we admired the floral and animal themes; followed the intricate (seemingly) symmetrical, repeating, interlocking patterns; counted the numerous references to battling animals (large cat vs ibex, on carpet, illumination, book binding, and dagger hilt); spotted the embedded calligraphy; admired the tiny details in the illumination; wondered at how mosaics, tilework, even ceiling engravings are joined; and thrilled at several depictions of rabbits.

Perhaps the most revelatory aspect of the new galleries was stepping out of them into the adjacent 19th-century European paintings galleries, the first one hung with Orientalist works by the likes of Gerome.  We played compare and contrast::  here were oil paintings, numerous depictions of humans (there are some in Islamic art; not all believed in the prohibition of the depiction of humans), a focus on the "exotic," the Other.  Even to first graders, it was obvious that these second-hand depictions by outsiders paled in comparison to the real thing.  And professionally speaking, even though my beloved European 19th-century galleries were renovated about 20 years ago, they look old and tired in comparison with their new neighbors, particularly because in these galleries paintings are removed from their original contexts, which were elaborate houses of rich patrons, complete with furniture and other objets d'art, well-illuminated and hung in rows on the "dead" (at least no longer white) walls of the museum/mausoleum.  While the art of Arab lands is displayed all together (not manuscripts here, mosaics there in some kind of surgical separation of media that plagues the study of European art, subdivided as painting, decorative arts, sculpture, textile etc), it avoids the ethnographic, exotic Other feel of natural history museums--this is art on par with all the other art in the museum, with each object as worthy of study as the oil paintings on the line.

Really, I could go on and on, but I'm not sure it would convey the depth of my appreciation for the galleries. And for the day.  I was so proud, so happy, so excited, so relieved to have made it to and through the museum--two hours without any real problems--I'd be standing at a carpet and find myself in tears at the wonderfulness of it all.  I am so grateful to Mama, for handling all of the logistics, and to the kids for humoring me (when they really wanted to go to Egyptian!).  They were a delight, enthusiastically exploring every gallery, soaking in an art very new to them.  We then went outside for food--the carts are almost better than the cafeteria, with new gourmet pretzels and organic cupcakes, with of course, the standard hot dogs.  We ate, swatted away pigeons, people-watched, and enjoyed the buskers singing Motown tunes. We bought a few postcards and a catalog.

And planned our next visit . . . .

(Not Quite Epic) Loss

In addition to the wonderful experience at the Met yesterday, my SuperBetter Epic Win, I had quite a disappointment during my visit with my doctor.  "Medical science has failed people like you," he said.  "It hasn't caught up."   Barring spontaneous (slow) healing, there are few if any treatments left for me.  Yep, you read that correctly:  this might be more permanent than temporary.  I can have more epidurals, perhaps one to my tailbone, but nothing is a magic pill.  There are medical nerve blockers but he doesn't think it will effect my kind of pain.  There might be a stem cell procedure, which would perhaps help the disc to heal. Then there's a nerve toxin in clinical trials--13 people have had it in Germany!--that would (very painfully) poison and kills the nerves in the area.  Risky, unpredictable, and that's if you don't get the placebo.  No thanks.  Otherwise, he says his job is to support me and make sure I don't do anything stupid, like a disc fusion which would only cause me more trouble (and several other specialists have agreed with him on that point).  He applauded my good spirits, my dealing with this without heavy pain pills, my following of directions to take supplements, my 20 lb weight loss in 12 months, and even seemed to apologize for not having anything to offer.  Of course, you've gathered that he still absolutely believes the pain is discogenic, i.e. caused by the herniated disc, regardless of the fact that it is a small tear and protrusion.  He read the letter from the PT discussing ligaments, sacrum, coccyx, etc, and rejected it outright.  We have questions and concerns about all of this, wonder about possible other diagnostic tools (seated MRIs?  discogram?  EMG?), but know he doesn't trust such tests (and the NYTimes talks about why he's probably right not to).  And it's hard to know who to believe (him and the other specialists, or the PT--doesn't seem equal, does it?  We don't reject the PT out of hand, but would be more trusting if that therapy seemed to be going anywhere, and/or if there was even one doctor who agreed with her and trusted her treatment; still 3 visits is earlier yet to tell) because we don't feel like we have the skills or knowledge to evaluate my condition on our own.

Which leaves us here:  I'm taking a short medical hiatus.  Right now what I need more than doctors, tests, diagnoses, treatments, and disappointments, is time.  I will see the pain specialist with whom we managed an appointment in December--he deals not with fixing pain (like a physiatrist) but in coping with it.  I will continue PT a bit longer and will see a doctor, if she has one to recommend.  I will continue to exercise and lose weight (though, no one believes that's the magic pill either; but it can't hurt).  I will think of more simple practical things we can do to make me as independent and functional as possible (like with the countertop convection oven and my stand-up desk).  Otherwise, I will hold off on any more epidurals, drugs, new appointments until after the holidays.  I will not pursue any other new specialists until the new year.  But yes, we'll keep looking and trying.  Just not for the next two months.  We've been hitting it pretty hard and I need a mental break, to be more than my body for bit, to enjoy the holidays.

And to process--to contemplate, mourn, and accept, even research--that this might be it.  That my temporary injury might become a more long-term disability.  That I will need to adapt my plans for the future, my way of doing things in the present.  I think I have been on hold all these months, waiting to get better, doing what I can to heal, but still trusting that the healing would happen, my time would come, if only I hung in there.  Yesterday did a lot to change that .  I might not heal anymore. This might be as good as my back gets. I really might not ever be able to sit without pain, in other words, to sit again, or to stand or walk for long periods of time without problems.  Or, such things are so far off, not measured in weeks or months, but much longer, that it doesn't make sense to wait anymore.  Which means making some changes--mentally, physically, environmentally.

The biggest, for me, is the first. There's no point dwelling here or now on what losses this injury entails (I can't quite call it a disability yet; it smacks too much of permanence or severity for me right now; especially since it's essentially an invisible--and I'll say it, weird and unusual--disability.). And I recognize and am grateful for my blessings.  Most of the time, I'm pretty good at thinking on the latter instead of the former. As I've said, it really could be worse.

But today, it's bad enough.  And I'm sad.  But if you see me (or Mama), let's not talk too much about it.  Help me take my break.  Just say, "What's up?" or "How ya doing?" and let's more forward from there . . . just "keep on moving forward, never turning back."

EPIC WIN!!!!!

An Historic SuperBetter Day

It probably should have been my SuperBetter Epic Win, it was that big a day on Thursday:  I gave a tour at the historic house!  In my costume!  To Sis's Girl Scout troop!  With Bud there, too!  Yep, a very special day.  And it went something like this . . .

After welcoming them to the house, I told them we would be traveling back through time and that I was dressed to take them through my 350-year-old house.  I let them point out what was anomalous about my outfit and they eventually spotted my therapeutic sneakers (a big docent no-no!  But this was unofficial).  Bud also said that my eyeglasses were wrong, since Ben Franklin invented them, which he'd read recently in a book (and it's partially true--Franklin did invent bifocals, but glasses had been around, but not common, for hundreds of years).

We went inside to help the kids make their own mop caps (appx 18" diameter muslin circle with slits about 1.5" from edge and a few inches apart gathered with yarn) so they'd feel dressed for the period.   While they worked, I talked about my costume--my layered skirt (and how I'd wear  more and heavier layers for winter), my separate pockets ("Lucy Locket lost her pocket"), my always-covered head, how they had few outfits and only washed the layer next to their bodies (and usually only took sponge baths!), how clothes were not purchased ready-made but sewn out of purchased fabric by tailors or the women in the family (except during the war) and that clothes were patched and passed down because they were valuable, how boys wore dresses until they were "breeched" sometime in young childhood, and how girls never wore pants.  This last fact shocked the all-pants-wearing troop the most.  But that's because we didn't talk about how they didn't wear underwear!

Appropriately covered, we headed into the kitchen to talk about other aspects of colonial life:

• lighting by candles, oil lamps, firelight, increased by reflections off pewter plates or mirrors, but especially sunlight--how they woke with and went to bed with the sun
• heat only by fireplace, compounded by lower ceilings, smaller windows, heavier clothes and blankets, and foot- and bed-warmers
• transportation by foot because only the rich had horses or carriages
• sleeping altogether, with parents and siblings, in rope beds or pallets
• children's chores:  sewing, helping with the cooking, cleaning (with a broom made of sticks), feeding the livestock, fetching water, carrying wood, gathering eggs (eggs were more seasonal then, with chickens not laying in cold months), making butter (another seasonal food because cows didn't give milk in winter)
• food harvesting (and the long tradition of harvest festivals, even before the official Thanksgiving holiday in 1863) and preservation, especially the popularity of drying apples and making pies to eat at every meal (and why you just couldn't leave whole apples in the cellar--rot, mice, thieving kids!).  Also how the big meal was in the middle of the day.
• how water was not the drink of choice because it was easily contaminated and could make you sick; they drank cider and hot tea, often made from leaves broken from bricks of tea from China

Then, in the waning afternoon light, without turning on any electricity, they kids worked on weaving projects.  I showed them all the tape, or ribbon, in my clothes--my cap, shift, and gathering my skirts--and demonstrated how it was woven on my replica colonial tape loom.  Then they did some decorative circle weaving on paper plates (notch a plate with an uneven number of slits, set "warp" by crossing through center and passing to next slit, weave over-under in a circle, changing colors whenever), similar to the woven rag rugs they were all seated upon.  

After everyone had left, while Mama and I were cleaning up, Sis and Bud played house in the enormous fireplace--sweeping, baking, stirring the kettle, churning butter, fetching wood and water.  Watching them bring history alive for themselves is why I love being a docent.  

Definitely a "Power Up" moment.

Recent Recipes

A collection of recipes we've made recently


Pumpkin Choices

Pumpkin Pasta

1 pound whole wheat penne pasta
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 shallots, finely chopped
3-4 garlic cloves, grated
2 cups chicken stock
1-15 oz can pumpkin puree
1/2 cup cream
1 teaspoon hot sauce (optional)
nutmeg
2 pinches of ground cinnamon
7 to 8 fresh sage leaves
grated Parmesan cheese

Boil pasta according to directions on package.

Saute shallots and garlic in olive oil.  Add stock, pumpkin, and cream.  Then hot sauce, nutmeg, cinnamon, salt, and pepper to taste.  Reduce heat and simmer 5-6 minutes.  Stir in sage.  Toss in drained pasta and add cheese.  Serve.

Rachael Ray, Yum-O!

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Pumpkin Pasties
1-9" pie shell, or equivalent amount of dough
1 cup canned pumpkin
1/4 cup sugar
1/8 teaspoon each ground nutmeg and cinnamon

Preheat the oven to 400F.  Mix pumpkin, sugar, and spices until thoroughly blended.  Roll out dough until it is 1/8" thick.  Use a saucer to cut 6" circles. Put 2-3 tablespoons of filling in the middle of each circle.  Moisten edges gently with your wet finger.  Fold circle in half and seal shut, crimping edge with fork.  Pierce to vent.  Bake on ungreased cookie sheet for about 30 minutes or until golden.

Dinah Bucholz, The Unofficial Harry Potter Cookbook


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Uses Of Heavy Cream


Toasty Oats with Cider Syrup


4 cups real apple cider, refrigerated
2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
1/2 cup heavy cream

Put 2 cups of apple cider in a small saucepan.  Bring to a boil, lower the heat to medium, and cook until the cider is reduced to 1/2 cup, about 25 minutes.  Set aside  This can be made one day ahead and reheated gently.

To make the oatmeal:  in a medium saucepan, put the remaining 2 cups of cider, 1 1/2 cups of water, and 1/4 teaspoon salt.  Bring to a boil.  Lower the heat to medium and add the oatmeal.  Cook over medium heat for 5 minutes, stirring frequently.  Add 2 tablespoons of the heavy cream.  Cook for 1 or 2 minutes longer, until the oatmeal is the desired thickness.

Meanwhile, whip the remaining cream.  Serve oatmeal with whipped cream and maple syrup.

Rozanne Gold, Kids Cook 1-2-3

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Homemade Butter


1 cup heavy cream, chilled

Put cream in heavy mixer or food processor.  Beat on high for 7 minutes. Cream will thicken and become smooth.  Then it will separate into small solids and a milky liquid (this is buttermilk).  It will slosh around a bit and then a ball of butter will form.

Drain off the buttermilk (drink or save) and press down the butter to release all the liquid.

Add a pinch of salt and stir well.

Eat now or refrigerate covered for up to a week.

Rozanne Gold, Kids Cook 1-2-3

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Miscellaneous



Pork Chops with Sauteed Apples


2 thick pork chops, about 7 oz each
1 large McIntosh apple
2 tablespoons unsalted butter

Season the pork chops with salt and pepper.

Peel the apple.  Cut the apple in half.  Cut  each half into 5 wedges.  Remove the seeds.

Melt butter in a large skillet.  Add the apples and cook over medium-high heat for 1 minute on each side.  Add pork chops and cook thoroughly.  Serve immediately.

Rozanne Gold, Kids Cook 1-2-3


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Gommie's Rump Roast


3-4 lb rump roast
salt and pepper
1 cup water

Preheat oven to 500F.  Sear meat, rubbed with salt and pepper, for 15 minutes.  Reduce heat to 350F, add cup of water to pan, and cover.  Cook approximately 2 hours.  Make gravy from drippings (4 tablespoons oil or drippings plus 4 tablespoons flour, cook til copper-brown, add 4 cups stock plus seasonings).

Gommie Hungry

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Plus some internet links to recipes I've made

• Gram Lowry's Applesauce Cake--fantastic and easy (though kids would have liked it better without raisins)
• Homemade Granola--I make this every Monday and eat it all week.

Avatar

I've been working on my profile photo and have cycled through several in the last few days, including

Princess Leia

and Snorlax.

But I've finally decided on this painting,Beatrice, by Marie Spartali Stillman.  Not necessarily because I identify with Dante's Beatrice, but because I have always liked Stillman's paintings (much better than the PRB ones she posed for--I even considered doing my dissertation on her).

But I imagine I'll change the image before long.

Sunset on Our Green Hour

It's become our post-school ritual to play outside for an hour after the kids get off the bus, from approximately 4-5 pm.  The kids have a picnic snack, practice their kung fu, climb bushes, run obstacle courses, play in their homemade branch shelter, "cook" with mud and berries, run up the slide, swing on the playset, perform musicals, "excavating" the boulders like archaeologists, really whatever they dream up.  I like playing with them, when they ask.  I like watching them play, while I walk back and forth deep in thought (or not).  I like our unstructured outdoor time, the perfect antidote to an 8-hour day at school.  After our hour, by dusk, we head inside for homework and dinner.  But today, there were no rays of light touching our yard when they got off the bus; it was dusk already.  By 5 pm, it looked like this:

Sure, it was extra-fun tonight to watch the moon rise before dinner, but soon, it'll look like this almost immediately after they get home.  And our happy, go-lucky, creative outdoor freeplay will be on hiatus until spring.

Just another reason I don't like "fall back."

The One That Got Away

Sometimes you just don't get the picture you planned.  So, to complete this image, please image a perfect V-formation of approximately 30 honking geese right in the gap between the trees.

Apples and Oranges

I'm sure it's true for other things, but it has certainly struck me this week that my kiddos have surpassed me in the acquisition of a few skills I don't have.  Sis can go all the way across the monkey bars.  Bud can do one-handed cartwheels.  I'm just really amazed, impressed, and proud.  In this case, the apples have fallen into a completely different orchard

Slavic Saturday

On the way back from a vet emergency (Hermione ate tinfoil; she's fine now), we spotted a local Slavic Food Fest at an Orthodox church.  So we dropped off the cat and headed back for lunch.  The kids were hesitant at first but tried all the offerings:  halushki (hot noodles with cabbage), halupki (stuffed cabbage in tomato sauce), pierogi (potato and cheese dumplings, but spelled pirohi, I think), mushroom barley soup, borscht (shredded beets, cabbage, carrots, beef soup), kolbasi and sauerkraut (same as kielbasa), and kolache (much more like rugelach than our Central Texas kolache pastries).  Mmmmmmm.  Bud wolfed it all down, preferring the stuffed cabbage.  But Sis stuck to the noodles and dumplings.  Still, we were proud of them for trying it all and excited that they liked new foods.  Must.  Find.  Recipes.  They also liked the church but were, as usual, confused--What's a saint?  isn't Saint Nicholas "Santa Claus"?  But why would you pray to him?  Why are there "x"s (read "crosses") everywhere?  Are they Christians?  Why was that man in black with a funny collar?  What's a priest?  Why is there a wall (altar screen) in front of the sanctuary?  I can see that it will soon be time to make some visits to other houses of worship, and not just for food.  Maybe we can tag along with some of our church and temple-going friends when the kids are a bit older.   Until then, more food festivals, because nothing helps getting to know your neighbors like eating together.

Homemade Musicals

With Into The Woods stuck in their brains the way that musical can, Sis and Bud have been putting on their own shows in the backyard.  Call it "Into the Woodland Critters."  Bud is a friendly, kung-fu dancing fox.  Sis is a kind, berry-picking bunny.  They take turns singing solos, mainly based on the opening number of Into the Woods, or dancing, during which I'm supposed to hum their theme songs ("Peter Cottontail" for her; the Wicked Witch of the West theme for him?!).  Sometimes I get a walk-on as the slow hedgehog.

This new incorporation of music into play has carried over into other arenas.  They now chant words that touch their fancy, like "ham," or repeat everything I say in an operatic aria ("It's time for dinner."  "It's, it's it's, timmmmmeeeeee for-or-or-or din-ner!").

Bravo! Brava! Bravissimi!

The Extra Hour

The "extra hour" of sleep at the end of Daylight Savings Time is a myth at our house.

First graders don't know to sleep in when their usual wake-up time goes from 7 am to 6 am literally overnight.  "Sleeping in" holds no appeal for them.

Which means there were kids playing Legos downstairs at 6:01 am today.

Happy Birthday, Banana!

Wishing my sister a very happy birthday today!  Hope you have a wonderful celebration with Uncle Soccer and Cousin Hungry.  Your presents (for all of you) will be on their way soon.  We love you!

Catching Up

I'll elaborate later . . . .

Wednesday

• Worst.  PT.  Ever.  How getting better is a pain in my ass.  Literally.  
• Day gets harder:  Mama Hungry comes home with violent food poisoning from lunch.

Thursday

• Moms Morning Coffee
• Early Dismissal and the playground
• Parent/Teacher conferences--the 3 Rs plus a marriage proposal! 
• Daisy Scout tour of historic house led by me, with craft activities!
• Continuing the historic theme, apple pie for dinner by candlelight

Friday

• Watching Pema Chodron's Omega retreat from last weekend online, "Living Beautifully with Uncertainty and Change"--my understandings of her great teachings later
• Delicious take out lunch from Bloodroot (Mama is gingerly eating again!  But now has a nasty head cold.)
• Settling in for a lazy, stay-at-home, family weekend

Plus an early happy birthday to my little sister, Aunt Banana!  (Your gift, and Uncle Soccer's, is bundled with Cousin Hungry's and will be there soon-ish).

A New Treat

I write lunch notes for the kids everyday, signing them "Mommy & Mama."  A few days ago, it hit me:  we're M&Ms!  The kids love the new moniker.  I do, too.

Things I Don't Do

Having read Simple Mom's "Imperfection" post about things she doesn't do, I was inspired to think up my own list.  Mommy blogs, like fashion magazines, often set forth a vision of perfection that few of us achieve (and probably, like fashion magazines, reduce our self esteem significantly, even while we aspire to the lifestyle):  clean, uncluttered, and stylish homes; organic, local, seasonal, homemade-from-scratch meals (3 a day plus snacks.  No school-bought lunches!); homeschooled, disciplined, creative, outdoorsy kids who are smart and empathetic; supportive, encouraging,fun spouses on the same track;  homemade clothes, toys, gifts, decorations, etc--all captured in perfect, artsy, photographs.  You get the picture--a long list of attributes that I have internalized as "shoulds."  Of course, all blogs highlight their strengths and downplay their weaknesses--I don't blog about my kids' embarrassing moments or faults, or about Mama's, and only sometimes my own.  I do often spout my vision for the aforementioned lifestyle, liberal politics, quality education, spirituality, among other things.  But that's all it is:  a vision.  Somedays, my life approaches that utopia; other days, I can barely see the dream for the clutter and chaos.  But everyday, here are some things I "should" do that I don't (and usually feel guilty about):

• I don't make vegetables for dinner every night.
• I don't remember to send cards or gifts on time, or sometimes at all.  (And when I do, I don't usually make them by hand.)
• I don't use the public library as much as I could (and I use Amazon way too much).
• I don't read the local papers often or follow all of the issues.
• I don't often follow through on ideas or projects.
• I don't answer phone calls in a timely fashion.
• I don't Facebook or Twitter.  Or text.
• I don't often wake up before the kids.
• Even when I physically could, I didn't weed the garden or clean the house much. (It's the only thing that makes back pain good--no guilt about cleaning or yard care!)
• I don't always get the kids to brush their teeth.  Or take their vitamins. Or wash their hair regularly.
• I don't always say "please" (I'm much better with "thank you").
• I don't always kiss Mama goodbye (but I do remember "I love you").
• I don't ever unplug.

What things don't you do that you feel like you should?  Make a list and let it go--it's cathartic.

A "Glee" Wish Come True??

In the middle of watching the new "Glee" after a three week hiatus and Brittany and Santana were holding hands and are dating!!!!! YEAH!!!!!  Really wish this show had been on 25 years ago when I was kissing my best friend . . . .

Gearing Up for Thanksgiving

It's that time of year on the Well blog:  three weeks of vegetarian or vegan recipes for your holiday table.  Bon appetit!