Bittersweettoast

Years ago my husband and I went on a ski trip, visiting some of the less glamorous but fabulous ski areas that populate interior British Columbia. We booked accommodations by studying the brochures that were sent to us in the mail (remember those prehistoric days before the digital era?) and settled on rooms with kitchenettes. These towns were not exactly swarming with apres-ski options, so it seemed to make sense to bring our own soups and stews to reheat at the end of the day. Imagine our surprise when we arrived at the first motel to find no kitchen in sight, not even a miniature coffee maker. Nothing but a bed, a bathroom, and a Gideon's bible. At this point most people would have gone into town to find the local greasy spoon diner, but my husband is not most people. Using his creative brain, he whipped up a makeshift hot plate by combining the clothes iron he packed to wax our skis, the trusty Gideon's bible, and a little duct tape. By wedging the iron upside down in the...

You know the story. A mom teaches her daughter how to roast a ham and cuts off one end before placing the meat in a pan. The daughter asks why it's necessary to cut off the end, and mom explains that this is how grandma always did it. An inquiry into grandma's method reveals that grandma always snipped the end 'cause her pan wasn't big enough! Not exactly a tradition worth passing along after all. Sometimes patterns need re-assessing. Just a few blog posts ago, I described the zen-like state I acquire when creaming butter and sugar to create certain sweet masterpieces like chocolate chip cookies. I've been baking since high school and basically drool at the prospect of tasting the warm gooey mess of a freshly baked cookie. Enter a very strange illness a few weeks back that had my doctor and two of her colleagues stumped. Two different rashes and nausea had me thinking for a moment that I might get to be the subject of the New York Time's Sunday magazine sect...

Curcuma longa is the botanical name for a plant whose rhizome harnesses incredible healing power. We know it as turmeric, the bright orange spice that is produced from the plant's root, and it has been used for over 4,500 years as an important part of Ayurveda, one of the world's oldest forms of medicine. Like snow to the native people of Alaska, turmeric has over a hundred different terms in the Ayurvedic world. Jayanti , one victorious over diseases, relates to the lengthy list of health maladies this powerful spice has been used to fight: inflammation, cholesterol, heart disease, rheumatoid arthritis, digestion, gallstones, cuts and burns, colds and sore throats, and (my favorite) leech bites. Matrimanika , beautiful as moonlight, is another name for the versatile spice and refers to its historical use in Indian wedding ceremonies where the bride and groom rub a paste with turmeric all over their bodies, providing them each with a special glow and promise of matrimonial pr...

When I led bike tours, one aspect of this multi-faceted job was to give route descriptions each morning before setting out on the day's ride. Generally speaking this was pretty straight forward because even if it was a new trip we had never been on before, the company always supplied leaders with plenty of information about each route. But one particular trip presented very unusual circumstances --Yellowstone National Park during the summer of the big fires. Our first trip there had gone without a hitch as the fires circled the periphery of the park's most popular destinations. But by the time we started our second trip, roads were closing everywhere throughout the park, forcing us to adjust our routes to roads we had never seen. Co-leaders always took turns doing the daily route talk, and on our first day through this uncharted territory, I listened while one of the other leaders gave the day's talk. Instead of saying to all our guests that we had absolutely no idea wh...

Many years ago I competed in triathlons, and one race always sticks out in my mind. Actually, it's one moment from one race. I was on the bike leg, which for me was always my strongest. As I was riding along and happily gaining ground on all the folks who were stronger swimmers, another woman came up alongside and said, "Hey, nice bike." We chatted for half a minute about the finer points of Cannondale bikes, and then she sped off. When I looked down at her calf muscle and saw the permanent pen markings that indicated her age, I read five zero, fifteen years my senior! Humbled? Yes. Impressed? Very much so. I have long been drawn to older, fit folks. If you've been a longtime reader of my blog, you might remember when I wrote about George Garside and the Auckland Cycle Touring Association . This was a group of incredibly fit 60, 70, and 80 year old men I was privileged to ride with once, and the experience definitely left its mark. These men took their fitness serio...

I am not sure what it is about the Sunday New York Times. Perhaps it's just the leisurely tone that tends to describe the last day of the week. Perhaps it's because the Sunday edition gives my mind and eyes a rest from the often depressing daily news. Whatever the reason, Sunday's paper often gives me inspiration. Anne Patchett is my muse today. She has long been a favorite author, so when I saw her name below an editorial titled, "My Year of No Shopping", I delved in. This topic has been on my mind a lot this holiday season because of my kids. When I asked them a month ago about Christmas ideas, their lists were scant. I didn't think much about it until decorating our tree last weekend and realized how little would go under its limbs this year. I'm okay with this. I am happy that many younger generations seem genuinely interested in our planet's health and welfare and our need to stop over-indulging. Anne Patchett's essay  is a reminder that us o...

During my second year of teaching I had a parent who prefaced every conversation by saying, "Well, you know, I AM a psychologist..." Code speak for, "You are a young, lowly teacher who knows nothing, so let me enlighten you." I WAS young and new at the profession, not wise to the realities of parenting, but I wasn't stupid. Midway through October, I did what most every teacher I know does when group dynamics call for a disruption -- I changed the seating order in my classroom. Now, had I been a psychologist, I would have known that this was a dangerous thing to do to kids. My psychologist parent helped me see the light. "I AM a psychologist," the conversation once again began, "and humans are creatures of habit. In a large lecture hall, students will naturally gravitate to the same seat, day after day. Your students are being harmed by this new seating arrangement." Now back in the day I had to go up to the school office to take phone calls b...

Those who know me well know of my love for The Great British Baking Show. Unlike every American baking or cooking show, this is a kinder and gentler approach to competition where the contestants, vying for a lovely glass plate in lieu of a million dollars, actually help one another and are genuinely empathetic about fellow bakers' mishaps. The show's hosts don't cream puff their comments, but they're never mean or condescending. When octogenarian Mary Berry gives them advice, they listen wholeheartedly. And each season's group of bakers always has a refreshing diversity of ages. These are real people who spend several long and exhausting weekends under a white tent on the grounds of a beautiful English estate. Not because they seek fame and fortune, but because they simply love to bake in their own modest home kitchens. Period. I thought about The Great British Baking Show this morning as I read the Sunday edition of The New York Times. Bear with me; there is a co...

My husband and I recently went to Chicago to visit our daughter who has been living and working there now for over a year. I had never stepped foot in the Windy City and was excited to get to know this place our daughter calls home. Spending time with her was a huge bonus. We live in a suburb of Seattle where our greatest fear tends to come in the form of four-legged creatures that roam through our backyard looking for a den or their next meal in an ever-diminishing habitat. We don't own any small pets, so their presence doesn't tend to affect us much. Life is pretty quiet and safe in our neck of the woods. So when our daughter landed this job in Chicago, I wondered how her transition would go. She has always loved the outdoors; would city life suit her? Our eighteen years of suburban parenting didn't exactly prepare her well for an urban adventure. Thrive she has. More comfortable than me in a big city she is. I had nothing to do with this, and yet it made me proud to se...

There is no large handbook that comes with the arrival of a child. That's fortunate because there truly are so many different ways to raise a child and live a life and unfortunate because there truly are so many different ways to raise a child and live a life. Sometimes it's overwhelming and you just want someone to swoop down and guide you. Children, however, grow slowly and if we watch and listen carefully, they often give us guidance. When my kids left the infant stage, they didn't suddenly wake up as terrible two-year-olds. When they rounded the corner into their teenage years, we didn't suddenly announce, "Oh, today you are a pubescent teenager who no longer listens and admires our every word." The pimples slowly started to appear, the body slowly developed, the attitude stealthily crept in. As our kids changed, we adapted. That all sounds blissful, right? Well, it wasn't. Parenting is a messy profession that has provided me with some of my greatest...

Generally speaking, when I start a project I'm likely to see it through to its end. I'm naturally suspicious of people with grandiose plans and have sometimes scoffed at those individuals for spouting out ideas that seem questionable at best and nearly impossible to actually complete. It's taken me a long time to recognize that it's really just a matter of style and personality. I'm the winter stew, simmering forever before presenting itself with its finished flavors. I mull ideas in my head for a long time before sharing them with others. When I say I am going to do something, I want to be able to follow through. For better or for worse, that's just who I am. I started this blog almost five years ago (pause. sigh. time does indeed fly). When I began I had every intention of getting through all 50 drinks because, well,  that's just who I am. But then I started teaching full time, and the busy-ness of life, work, and parenthood stepped in to thwart this wel...

Happy New Year! I'm sorry if you gave up on me. I actually gave up on my ability to keep this blog going, and today's post doesn't exactly mean I'm back to writing regularly. When I started teaching full time in September, I knew life would get busy; what I didn't anticipate was having to get used to flying by the seat of my pants all the time. As a part-time teacher, I had lots of time to prepare my lessons. Granted, this meant that if I really calculated my hourly pay, I'd have had a hard time justifying working at all. Looking on the bright side, I don't work twice as much as before, mostly because there just aren't enough hours in the day. Looking on the dark side, I work an awful lot and most days I am planning right up to the moment my students walk in the door. I have had to get used to not always having a clear picture of what to do next, but I have learned that this is not always a bad thing. My students have become my guide far more, and we hav...

When I was a senior in high school, I remember the buzz surrounding some of my classmates who were applying to Stanford. Unlike most application essay questions at the time, the Stanford question was always unique and interesting. That particular year's question was this: use one adjective to describe yourself and explain why that adjective best fits you. I never had to ponder the adjective question because I knew that this was a school beyond my reach, so I lived vicariously through friends more willing to test their mettle with Stanford's admissions staff. One friend, in particular, decided to write the most gutsy college essay ever and describe herself with just three words: I am succinct. End of essay. Not only did this friend graduate from Stanford, but she is now an English professor. I just love that story. Now it's my turn to be succinct with you. Very simply, I want you to stop what you are doing and go out and buy some summer berries while they are still ...

I'm baaaaack! No, I have not given up on this blog. It just took a much appreciated summer break to help me find some down time to write and create. My sister recently asked me how far I was from my goal of 50 drinks. Well, let's just say I still have a ways to go, mais c'est la vie. If you'll be patient with me, I will get there. Hopefully before my next decade birthday. I've done some important things since last sitting down to write. I went on a yoga retreat in the beautiful San Juan Islands and learned how to fence and throw a hatchet -- two activities that were way more fun than the yoga. Perhaps relaxation is just not my thing. My partner in this medieval fun, Debbie, has been a friend and adventure buddy since the day we met (long ago) while training to become bike trip leaders. The miles between our homes make our gatherings few and far between, but they are always filled with enough laughter to (almost) last until the next escapade. When school let o...