My mother was my first true love.
As i sit and try
to write memories of her, as her daughter, there are obviously too many
to list. There are carnivals, picnics, camping,
vacations at the beach. Memories by lakes, on lakes, and
even, once, of evacuating our truck as it sank into a lake. (I'm
looking at you, Dad.) There are 35 years--and counting--of an extraordinary woman occupying a great deal of the space in my heart.
Mom had a favorite song and it said:
"Let there be peace on earth....and let it begin with me."
But it was more than a song for her, it was how she lived.
It is true that after people die, there is the tendency to make them seem like angels. But when it
comes to Mom, it is hard to overstate the kindness of her heart and spirit.
Simply look at the things she loved and one can feel her warmth.
She loved color.
She loved to sew.
She loved to garden,
She loved kids.
She loved to make clothes and quilts and Christmas stockings and curtains for her
friends, her neighbors, her grandchildren, and even people she'd never met. For the lucky out there that have something that mom made, you have only to pick it up and you'll be able to feel the love with which it was made.
Mom loved children, and the whole world in which they live…
She loved making childhood magical. She told me, shortly before she passed away, that my childhood was the happiest time of her life. Of course, I already knew this in my bones, because Mom was one of those rare souls who was able to hold onto an innocence
of heart all her life, which enabled her to fully enter and embrace a child's spirit. We were always together; she didn’t just parent me, she inhabited my childhood with me. There are myriad pictures of mom playing with me (and later, my children) where she is on the ground, or in the ocean, or on all fours.... on our level, truly enjoying the beauty that is a child's world.
This essence of simplicity made her extraordinary and quietly powerful. She was a rarity in
that she truly was a blessing to everyone she met, above all to my
children and me.
When I had an early fascination with fashion, she began making the clothes I had designed in my head. As young as age 7, i would draw, and she would manifest my dream
clothes. "I have this great idea for a dress made of cotton dolphins
jumping though the crests of waves" I'd exclaim, and days later, she'd
have me dolpin-clad and ready to be relentlessly mocked at school. But
always bespoke, perfectly tailored, and completely original.
For my first communion I refused to wear white (a chilling omen for my parents). Instead of insisting I wear white and buy me a dress like all the other girls, mom sewed me an elaborate, beautiful blue gown – and I wore it proudly, happy to be the odd one out.
Even though mom held on to an innocence and purity of heart, she was strong.
She survived 6 years of cancer, and 42 years of Dad’s driving. True to form, her strength came not from anger, but from love.
As the story was told to me: Mom and Dad were called to the principal’s office on my second day of Kindergarten. They thought I was in trouble already, but that wasn’t the case. Another child on the playground had asked me whether I was black or white, the answer to which, at age 5, I did not know or understand.
“You’ve got to tell Rachel the difference between black and white,” the principal told mom.
“So, what is the difference?” responded Mom calmly.
Needless to say, the meeting ended there.
Many years later, Mom’s strength of spirit was on full display again when she was diagnosed with cancer and doing chemo. I happened to be pregnant (not shocking, as I am more or less pregnant 90% of the time), but as ever, she put a chance to love and support me ahead of her own struggles. She scheduled her chemo treatments around my pregnancy, so she could fly to Utah and be there for her last grandson’s birth – as she was for all her grandchildren. But when my fourth child was born, he was barely breathing and fighting for his life. And still, Mom was there, despite the fact that she was also fighting for her own. She arrived just as the Life Flight team burst in to save him, and took him away. She took me home and slept near me, and held me, her baby, as I was crushed by having to come home from the hospital with empty arms. Despite the weakness of chemo, Mom was still there to give me her strength. (Spoiler alert: the kid lived, he’s here screaming/destroying something valuable...)
I can say I even stood to benefit from her few shortcomings. Mom was a terrible cook. You’d bite into a muffin and Bisquik dust would fill your lungs, leaving you discretely gasping for breath, trying not to hurt her feelings. When we would sit down to have dinner as a family, it was sometimes difficult to
hear each other over the crunch of the charred lasagna. If you heard Dad say, “This is FANTASTIC,” it meant I had cooked that night, and Mom
was glaring at him from across the table. It’s astonishing that a woman so full of love could be so cruel to cream of mushroom soup: the words "tuna noodle casserole" still trigger my adrenal glands for me to flee immediately.
But even in this, she inadvertently taught me a love of cooking that I cherish and can share with
her grandchildren today.
("There is not peace in the kitchen; PLEASE let it begin with someone else.")
Just a few weeks ago I asked Mom if she had any regrets.
“Only one,” she replied, “not being able to see my grandchildren grow up.”
Mom never saw the Taj Mahal, or traveled to Asia, or saw a lion in the wild. Her adventures were not about places, they were about people. She didn’t regret where she had not been, or what she had not done. She only regretted the time not spent with those she held so dear. Shortly before she passed away, Mom wrote letters to her grandchildren. In them, she praised each of their individual strengths and beauty, and she promised that if they listened closely, and got really quiet, they would be able to hear her and feel her with them.
She hung a poem on my wall as a child which still hangs by my bed today. It is the perfect poem for an adopted child to see everyday. It reads:
Not flesh of my flesh,
Not bone of my bone,
But still miraculously my own.
Never forget for a single minute,
You didn’t grow under my heart….
But in it.
She always told me that being adopted meant I was double loved, or "twice loved". Thanks to her, I always felt that way. And when I was 23 and wanted to find my birth mother, she wanted to find her too. She never felt threatened; there was never any hesitation or caution. And when I found her, and they finally met, my Mom’s first words to my birth mom were “thank you so, so much for my daughter.” And that isn’t just because I’m such a prize (wink), it’s because she was.
Mom lived Love-first. She cherished the opportunity to be grateful and say thank you. She considered it a privilege to have the chance to love me.
She left her beautiful handprint in my soul. The certitude of being
loved by her was something precious beyond words. And though i
didn't come into the world in her arms, she held me there my whole
life. She held me there till her very last breath, and there is no one
who has been given a greater gift.
It is so very sad that she is gone, somewhat irrevocably sad for myself, my father, my aunt, and others who held her so very dear. And yet, we do not have to say goodbye.
We can all live by her legendary kindness.
We can all try and love-first as she did.
We can let peace begin with us.
Thank you, mom, always and forever. You're my angel. I love you.
4.21.2015
8.29.2013
Oh, Did I Have A Blog?
Guys, i wrote this a year ago. Since then, if you can possibly believe it, life got even more insane. But i think Gus may have stopped wanting us to die, school is starting, and we have a nanny now, so, once again, I'm hoping the upswing is around the corner. But i have had quite a few requests to start writing again, so i figure i have to start somewhere, so here is a glimpse of my 2012:
Oh, hi! Perhaps you remember my blog. I don't. I only have about three brain cells left, and they all have to hold hands and fucking Kumbayah for me to think. Since ourmilitary dictator bundle of joy arrived a year and a half ago, the shit hit the fan, so please do excuse the delay. I have been busy dying inside. That little baby-shaped ball of evil persistence has seriously tipped the scales around here. We love him dearly, but either he's planning to save the world or burn it to dust and ashes, we aren't sure which. Should we buy him a unicorn or a hairless cat? The kid has fire. He is responsible for countless baby-maimings both at daycare and on playdates, and he looks like a tiny, pissed-off version of my mother-in-law. It's disconcerting at best. It's like i can feel him judging me. He even tries to bully his older siblings. Beau has immunity, of course, but Kingston and Georgia often come to me sobbing that Baby Gus has somehow drawn blood. I sometimes wonder if he actually did die in the NICU, and they just pulled some Pet Sematary shit and brought him back to life and any day now he's going to cut through my Achilles tendon with a butter knife. To quote my husband's fevered query last night, "WHY IS HE SO HATEFUL? WHY IS HE RUINING EVERYTHING? He's taking...our souls...*muffled sob*..."
But! When he's cute, he's beyond cute, and smart as a whip. I really think he just has serious drive, and when he can articulate it more successfully and is able to keep up with the herd a little better, he'll be a delight. But we will probably be dead by then because he will have already murdered us. (Even now, i type sitting on an inflatable donut because he pushed me out of a hammock and broke my tailbone. He is ONE.)
BLOODTHIRSTY
Anyhoo, since we just bought our dream house and are beginning a remodel, i thought i'd rev up the old blog again so you can all feel awesome about your easy-ass lives. Starting this week! I probably need to do some filling in as well, because there has been some pretty entertaining clusterfuckery that has gone on in the past 18 months. Even just in the last 4 weeks, my toddlers crashed a truck into someone's HOUSE, i have been in the ER twice, we moved out of our old house without any assistance, and i was kissed heartily by a woman without my permission. But we are still married, my kids and my parents are alive, we have an amazing house to work on, and only one of my bones is broken, so i still consider myself a lucky lady. Stay tuned...
Oh, hi! Perhaps you remember my blog. I don't. I only have about three brain cells left, and they all have to hold hands and fucking Kumbayah for me to think. Since our
But! When he's cute, he's beyond cute, and smart as a whip. I really think he just has serious drive, and when he can articulate it more successfully and is able to keep up with the herd a little better, he'll be a delight. But we will probably be dead by then because he will have already murdered us. (Even now, i type sitting on an inflatable donut because he pushed me out of a hammock and broke my tailbone. He is ONE.)
Anyhoo, since we just bought our dream house and are beginning a remodel, i thought i'd rev up the old blog again so you can all feel awesome about your easy-ass lives. Starting this week! I probably need to do some filling in as well, because there has been some pretty entertaining clusterfuckery that has gone on in the past 18 months. Even just in the last 4 weeks, my toddlers crashed a truck into someone's HOUSE, i have been in the ER twice, we moved out of our old house without any assistance, and i was kissed heartily by a woman without my permission. But we are still married, my kids and my parents are alive, we have an amazing house to work on, and only one of my bones is broken, so i still consider myself a lucky lady. Stay tuned...
3.19.2011
Baby C Dubs
So, my status as Luckiest Lady Alive has been set in stone. The recent past has contained both the most frightening and uplifting moments of my life thus far. Not a funny post, i don't think, so if you like funny, read the one about dildos and old people. Actually, read that one anyway. It's a winner.
In retrospect, Dave and i both somehow felt intuitively that something would be difficult or "wrong" about Cassius' birth, but neither of us voiced our premonitions because...well, you don't want to give any credence to your fears. And the birth itself was a complete cakewalk. I (finally) had an epidural, and my husband was like, "Why the hell didn't you do this before??? It's so QUIET in here! " Beau was there, and when i said i could feel that the baby was ready to be born, Beau chose to stay, holding a washcloth on my forehead as i pushed. "Don't look down Beau", i advised. "If you do, you'll never want to see another vagina as long as you live." He listened, but after what happened next, he didn't talk much for the next few days, and I wish he hadn't had to cope with such a weighty situation.
My mother in law on one side, and my love and sweet oldest son on the other, Cassius came into the world. He was beautiful: curly haired, blond, and a total synthesis of his three predecessors. "Oh God, look at him. I swear, this never gets old," Dave said, smiling. I held Cassius for a moment, and fell in love, as only a mother does. But he didn't cry. Instead, a gurgling sound came out, and the midwife handed him quickly to the nurses, who looked at each other ominously and shook their heads. And then they took him from me.
Evidently he had "fluid in his lungs." I didn't see him for hours, and when i did, he was unswaddled, in only a diaper under heat lamps, with oxygen tubes in his nose and a mask near his mouth. According to the monitors, air levels were still low and his breathing was haggard and erratic. He looked helpless and awful. I wasn't allowed to hold him, and barely allowed to even touch him. But he seemed to be holding on.
After a few hours of sleep, the nurse woke me and said that he was stable, and that he had relaxed a bit, but when i went to see him, it was obvious he was still fighting hard. They had started antibiotics, presuming an infection and probable pneumonia, and the oxygen mask was kept on more consistently.
And then, the following day, he dropped like a rock. A nurse came running for me and asked me to speak to the doctor over the phone. Dave was out getting us some food and my mom was at the airport still, so i was alone.
--"Mrs. Chamberlain, we are going to go ahead and get him to the university hospital. He's... well, he's going downhill a li-i-i-i-tle faster than I'd like to see, and just as a precautionary measure, we're going to get him up there where they're a little better equipped to help him out."
--"He's going to be ok then???"i asked.
--(Pause)"We're just going to take him up there now. You know, we could wait and see, but it's probably best we just have him over there before we're in a panic. They should be there in the next couple of hours."
Just as he said that, a Life Flight team burst through the doors and came to my baby son's bedside. At the same time, Dave came running through the doors as well and held my shaking shoulders as i sobbed uncontrollably. We watched for a minute as our baby's chest completely collapsed, the top of his chest sinking all the way into his tiny spine. He looked exactly like a caught fish out of water, desperate for breath. I knew then that there wasn't much time, and he could only fight a little longer. He was dying in front of us, and thought i would die too. The head nurse, Beverly (who had helped me deliver Georgia two years earlier) escorted me back to my room as i was backing away, unable to watch helplessly.
Beverly then left to see what was happening with Gus. She returned after a bit and reported he had been stabilized and put on a life support--an oscillating breathing machine inserted into his windpipe--and given morphine in order to rest. Apparently he had been working so hard to breathe in the 20 hours since he'd been born that he hadn't slept or rested at all, which is normally all babies do. He was being transported to the University of Utah Primary Children's hospital, and we were to follow.
We arrived, and after waiting for an hour or so, we were told he was stable, and went to see him. All the nurses were so confident, level headed and sharp, and it boosted our confidence that he was in the best possible hands. However, although positive, they told us we were not out of the woods yet. He was still on the breathing machine, and would remain on it for a day or so longer. He had tubes in his nose, one in his mouth that went down into his stomach, and several going in through his new belly button. It was hard to see, but at least he was resting and at peace.
Then we had to leave him and go home without a baby in our arms. For me that was super difficult. The first night, i slept with the assistance of the painkillers they give postpartum, but i awoke sobbing after a few hours. It felt like my heart was literally breaking, the emotional pain becoming physical. But thankfully my husband and my sweet mom were there, and she rushed into our bedroom and rocked me, her baby, in her arms until i was able to calm down, then stayed up talking to me until i fell asleep again. And my in-laws let us stay at their house, which is adjacent to the hospital, for the subsequent nights when i had to pump breast milk and Dave had to drive it to the NICU every three hours. We were well supported and very loved throughout the ordeal.
So the short version from here is that he went off the breathing machine after a day or so and was put on a high-flow oxygen cannula , then a low flow, then eventually down to breathing regular room air. After several days, the antibiotics that were fighting his pneumonia took effect, and a week later i was able to nurse him for the first time. (Normally i hate nursing's guts, but this was a brilliant moment for sure.) He stayed in the NICU for a total of eleven days, but since he was only a little early, he made a full and fabulous recovery without any residual problems or expected long term effects. We couldn't believe our luck, especially after seeing what the majority of the NICU looked like. Cassius's roommate, for example, weighed 1 1/2 pounds when she was born, and was at 2 1/2 when we were introduced to her. But she was still here, and still fighting. There were babies with obvious, heart-wrenching deformities, those that would suffer long-term complications, and those that would not simply make it, despite the heroic efforts of the nurses. My heart goes out all these children and their parents--or any parent who has to watch their child suffer.
The nurses were the most special breed of person i have ever had the pleasure of meeting, and are all walking angels, i swear. One of Cassius's nurses worked the night shift, ran a tax service with her husband during the day, had six sons (five surviving sons, she said), and a three-year-old grandson in her custody. She was incredibly on top of her game, completely pleasant, and joked and laughed with us as she shared her stories. It really blew my mind. All of them cooed and loved these babies as if every one was the most important thing in their world. It was beautiful.
All and all, this was life altering. This was the accidental child whose presence in our life seemed too daunting to cope with when i got pregnant. And then i thought i lost him at 4 months, and then i thought i was going to lose him again after he was born, and the mere threat of that was unbearable. All this has not made life any less hectic or stressful, and bringing him home has been quite a circus (although thankfully our burden was much eased by my mom's six week stay). But it has changed the way i look at my kids. They are the most beautiful, miraculous little beings, and i am so incredibly lucky to have their healthy little bodies in my arms every day. I am so thankful for my husband and how much i love him, and for the incredible, unwavering support of our amazing parents and family. We are truly blessed. Baby Cassius is aptly named, growing like a weed, and totally awesome.
In retrospect, Dave and i both somehow felt intuitively that something would be difficult or "wrong" about Cassius' birth, but neither of us voiced our premonitions because...well, you don't want to give any credence to your fears. And the birth itself was a complete cakewalk. I (finally) had an epidural, and my husband was like, "Why the hell didn't you do this before??? It's so QUIET in here! " Beau was there, and when i said i could feel that the baby was ready to be born, Beau chose to stay, holding a washcloth on my forehead as i pushed. "Don't look down Beau", i advised. "If you do, you'll never want to see another vagina as long as you live." He listened, but after what happened next, he didn't talk much for the next few days, and I wish he hadn't had to cope with such a weighty situation.
My mother in law on one side, and my love and sweet oldest son on the other, Cassius came into the world. He was beautiful: curly haired, blond, and a total synthesis of his three predecessors. "Oh God, look at him. I swear, this never gets old," Dave said, smiling. I held Cassius for a moment, and fell in love, as only a mother does. But he didn't cry. Instead, a gurgling sound came out, and the midwife handed him quickly to the nurses, who looked at each other ominously and shook their heads. And then they took him from me.
Evidently he had "fluid in his lungs." I didn't see him for hours, and when i did, he was unswaddled, in only a diaper under heat lamps, with oxygen tubes in his nose and a mask near his mouth. According to the monitors, air levels were still low and his breathing was haggard and erratic. He looked helpless and awful. I wasn't allowed to hold him, and barely allowed to even touch him. But he seemed to be holding on.
After a few hours of sleep, the nurse woke me and said that he was stable, and that he had relaxed a bit, but when i went to see him, it was obvious he was still fighting hard. They had started antibiotics, presuming an infection and probable pneumonia, and the oxygen mask was kept on more consistently.
And then, the following day, he dropped like a rock. A nurse came running for me and asked me to speak to the doctor over the phone. Dave was out getting us some food and my mom was at the airport still, so i was alone.
--"Mrs. Chamberlain, we are going to go ahead and get him to the university hospital. He's... well, he's going downhill a li-i-i-i-tle faster than I'd like to see, and just as a precautionary measure, we're going to get him up there where they're a little better equipped to help him out."
--"He's going to be ok then???"i asked.
--(Pause)"We're just going to take him up there now. You know, we could wait and see, but it's probably best we just have him over there before we're in a panic. They should be there in the next couple of hours."
Just as he said that, a Life Flight team burst through the doors and came to my baby son's bedside. At the same time, Dave came running through the doors as well and held my shaking shoulders as i sobbed uncontrollably. We watched for a minute as our baby's chest completely collapsed, the top of his chest sinking all the way into his tiny spine. He looked exactly like a caught fish out of water, desperate for breath. I knew then that there wasn't much time, and he could only fight a little longer. He was dying in front of us, and thought i would die too. The head nurse, Beverly (who had helped me deliver Georgia two years earlier) escorted me back to my room as i was backing away, unable to watch helplessly.
Beverly then left to see what was happening with Gus. She returned after a bit and reported he had been stabilized and put on a life support--an oscillating breathing machine inserted into his windpipe--and given morphine in order to rest. Apparently he had been working so hard to breathe in the 20 hours since he'd been born that he hadn't slept or rested at all, which is normally all babies do. He was being transported to the University of Utah Primary Children's hospital, and we were to follow.
We arrived, and after waiting for an hour or so, we were told he was stable, and went to see him. All the nurses were so confident, level headed and sharp, and it boosted our confidence that he was in the best possible hands. However, although positive, they told us we were not out of the woods yet. He was still on the breathing machine, and would remain on it for a day or so longer. He had tubes in his nose, one in his mouth that went down into his stomach, and several going in through his new belly button. It was hard to see, but at least he was resting and at peace.
Then we had to leave him and go home without a baby in our arms. For me that was super difficult. The first night, i slept with the assistance of the painkillers they give postpartum, but i awoke sobbing after a few hours. It felt like my heart was literally breaking, the emotional pain becoming physical. But thankfully my husband and my sweet mom were there, and she rushed into our bedroom and rocked me, her baby, in her arms until i was able to calm down, then stayed up talking to me until i fell asleep again. And my in-laws let us stay at their house, which is adjacent to the hospital, for the subsequent nights when i had to pump breast milk and Dave had to drive it to the NICU every three hours. We were well supported and very loved throughout the ordeal.
So the short version from here is that he went off the breathing machine after a day or so and was put on a high-flow oxygen cannula , then a low flow, then eventually down to breathing regular room air. After several days, the antibiotics that were fighting his pneumonia took effect, and a week later i was able to nurse him for the first time. (Normally i hate nursing's guts, but this was a brilliant moment for sure.) He stayed in the NICU for a total of eleven days, but since he was only a little early, he made a full and fabulous recovery without any residual problems or expected long term effects. We couldn't believe our luck, especially after seeing what the majority of the NICU looked like. Cassius's roommate, for example, weighed 1 1/2 pounds when she was born, and was at 2 1/2 when we were introduced to her. But she was still here, and still fighting. There were babies with obvious, heart-wrenching deformities, those that would suffer long-term complications, and those that would not simply make it, despite the heroic efforts of the nurses. My heart goes out all these children and their parents--or any parent who has to watch their child suffer.
The nurses were the most special breed of person i have ever had the pleasure of meeting, and are all walking angels, i swear. One of Cassius's nurses worked the night shift, ran a tax service with her husband during the day, had six sons (five surviving sons, she said), and a three-year-old grandson in her custody. She was incredibly on top of her game, completely pleasant, and joked and laughed with us as she shared her stories. It really blew my mind. All of them cooed and loved these babies as if every one was the most important thing in their world. It was beautiful.
All and all, this was life altering. This was the accidental child whose presence in our life seemed too daunting to cope with when i got pregnant. And then i thought i lost him at 4 months, and then i thought i was going to lose him again after he was born, and the mere threat of that was unbearable. All this has not made life any less hectic or stressful, and bringing him home has been quite a circus (although thankfully our burden was much eased by my mom's six week stay). But it has changed the way i look at my kids. They are the most beautiful, miraculous little beings, and i am so incredibly lucky to have their healthy little bodies in my arms every day. I am so thankful for my husband and how much i love him, and for the incredible, unwavering support of our amazing parents and family. We are truly blessed. Baby Cassius is aptly named, growing like a weed, and totally awesome.
 |
| starry-eyed miraculousness |
10.31.2010
Thai Chicken Soup
Here it is...long awaited by some of you WHO HAD BETTER BE READING THIS, *ahem*: my Thai Chicken soup. I adapted this recipe many years ago from one of those crapbag cookbooks you get in the entryway of Borders or Barnes and Noble for like $5.99. But it evolved into one of the best soups ever, according to quite a few friends. One time my friend P.J. (now the proprietor of Pure Wine Cafe in Ellicott City, MD) ate some soup at my house, left, and then promptly called from his cell phone to say he was on his way back because he needed more soup. Another friend once proposed bathing in it. And even my daughter Georgia likes it, and i'm pretty sure she's fully anorexic at age two--she eats NOTHING, ever. (She's anticipating her illustrious and successful modeling career with Victoria's Secret.) It's way good--most likely totally inauthentic, but completely delicious. Here are the ingredients:
*Split chicken breasts, skin-on, bone-in--about three big ones should come in a package...for those of you who are Thomas Keller and are using smaller, just-killed-in-your-restaurant-garden, organic chickens, maybe use four breasts. And if you are some sort of fitness-y guy, you can use skinless boneless breasts, which are easier to handle and have less fat, but you'll lose the flavor from the bones and skin. Mmmmm, bone flavor.
*1 large or 2 small onions, diced finely
*1 small Jalepeno, diced finely--optional
*Chicken stock, enough to almost cover the meat (maybe 5 cups-ish?)
*a stalk of lemongrass, if you have it--optional
* 2 cans coconut milk
*1 can diced tomatoes, or crushed tomatoes
*Curry paste--i use about 5 Tablespoons of Madras paste and 3 of Tikki Masala paste. You can get these at Whole Paycheck, or, to my surprise, Target!
*1-2 Tablespoons of fish sauce, if you have it. Optional
*2/3 to 3/4 cup peanut butter
*1-2 Tablespoons honey
*vermicelli rice noodles, prepared separately according to package directions
* cilantro and limes, for garnish
Method:
As with any soup, begin by sauteing the diced onions until they're translucent. Then add the chicken breasts, skin side down, and sear them till golden brown. Flip them over and do it again. Then add the stock and tomatoes to cover, and the lemongrass stalk (whole)and simmer until the chicken is almost cooked through. Remove the chicken from the pot and let it rest until it's cool enough to handle, and skin and shred it. Discard the skin and bones (duh). Add the curries, coconut milk, peanut butter, fish sauce, honey, and some of the cilantro if you like, and stir and simmer for a few minutes to meld the flavors. Add the shredded chicken back in, and you're done! If you are serving the entire pot of soup at once, go ahead and add the cooked rice noodles in with the soup. Other wise, spoon the soup over the noodles in individual portions to save the noodles from absorbing too much liquid and becoming a soggy mess. Garnish and enjoy!
*Note for veggies/vegans: I haven't tried this, but you could probably alter this with delicious success using vegetable stock and summer squash in lieu of meat. Try it and let me know...
*Split chicken breasts, skin-on, bone-in--about three big ones should come in a package...for those of you who are Thomas Keller and are using smaller, just-killed-in-your-restaurant-garden, organic chickens, maybe use four breasts. And if you are some sort of fitness-y guy, you can use skinless boneless breasts, which are easier to handle and have less fat, but you'll lose the flavor from the bones and skin. Mmmmm, bone flavor.
*1 large or 2 small onions, diced finely
*1 small Jalepeno, diced finely--optional
*Chicken stock, enough to almost cover the meat (maybe 5 cups-ish?)
*a stalk of lemongrass, if you have it--optional
* 2 cans coconut milk
*1 can diced tomatoes, or crushed tomatoes
*Curry paste--i use about 5 Tablespoons of Madras paste and 3 of Tikki Masala paste. You can get these at Whole Paycheck, or, to my surprise, Target!
*1-2 Tablespoons of fish sauce, if you have it. Optional
*2/3 to 3/4 cup peanut butter
*1-2 Tablespoons honey
*vermicelli rice noodles, prepared separately according to package directions
* cilantro and limes, for garnish
Method:
*Note for veggies/vegans: I haven't tried this, but you could probably alter this with delicious success using vegetable stock and summer squash in lieu of meat. Try it and let me know...
9.29.2010
Harvest
It's harvest time 'round here. Thought i'd post some pics of the bounty of our small but vigorous yard:
 |
| Beau with chard |
 |
| Some tomatoes being overtaken by the amazing 55 ft pumpkin vine--this is just a portion of it |
 |
| the pumpkins (Lumina) |
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| some lemon cucumbers, very prolific |
 | |||
| today's Sunsugar tomato harvest--every day we get about this many from just one plant! |
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roasted all these guys up--just garlic w/ the Sunsugars, and onion and mystery pepper with the mystery heirlooms @ right. then i just store them in olive oil and toss them with pasta or on pizza whenever--delightful. |
8.02.2010
The Lucky One
Back from a heavy night in the ER. Woke up in a huge pool of blood at 3AM, and then something the size of a lemon came out of me. Too much information? I thought so.
Thankfully, when i screamed "MO-O-O-O-O-M!!!" at the top of my lungs, she ran downstairs, threw the babies in the car, and drove my hysterical ass to the emergency room. It is a rare thing that, as a 31-year-old married woman, you can scream for your mommy in a dark hour and have her be close enough to come running, particularly when she lives over 2000 miles away most of the time. Dave and Beau were at home at our house, but the babies and i had fallen asleep at my in-laws house (where my mom is staying for the month--in-laws are in Oregon), so she was right upstairs.
Arrived in a hemorrhaging stupor at the ER, where Dave met us and was able to comfort me and allow my distraught but always heroic mom to take the babies home. The doctors, upon seeing the amount of blood, declared that if i had not already miscarried, i was probably in the process, and that it would not be painless, considering the gestational age/size of the babe. They hooked me up to an IV with some Fentanyl (marketed as "Sublimaze" in the 60s--friggin' sublimazing!), which calmed me down, to say the very least.
Enter sonographer. "How are you today?" he asked. I told him i'd "been better", but i was "pretty high." He applied the ultrasound gel to my belly and i closed my eyes, not wanting to see my empty womb. It's funny, as upset i was at the news of this pregnancy only a couple months ago, i realized how incredibly sad i was to lose it. I had just felt the first kicks the day before, and as anyone who has been pregnant knows, you can really start to fall in love early on. Turns out i really wanted this child, and i was truly devastated. I'm crying just writing this.
"Welllll....still there," I heard him say after a pause. I opened my eyes and looked at the screen. And there was a baby. Not just a sedentary little tiny fetus either, a vigorous, kicking, dancing fetus with a strong heartbeat, and a face, and everything! "WHAT!???" Dave and i asked in unison. We were utterly shocked. "How?? I can't even..." "Oh. My. God,"said Dave with an incredulous smile. I just kept blabbering in disbelief, because not only was the baby happily swimming around, my placenta appears to be COMPLETELY ATTACHED and dandy!! WOW.
--"Sooo..." i stammered, "Wait, wait, then maybe it was just a subchorionic hemorrhage and it grew and grew and then i just passed a giant clot and not the fetus? and my placenta looks ok after all????"
--"That's certainly what it looks like," he replied, looking slightly dubious that i just said "subchorionic hemorrhage" when i was crying, mostly naked, bleeding on a sheet, and wasted on what is essentially heroin at 4:30AM.
Thankfully, when i screamed "MO-O-O-O-O-M!!!" at the top of my lungs, she ran downstairs, threw the babies in the car, and drove my hysterical ass to the emergency room. It is a rare thing that, as a 31-year-old married woman, you can scream for your mommy in a dark hour and have her be close enough to come running, particularly when she lives over 2000 miles away most of the time. Dave and Beau were at home at our house, but the babies and i had fallen asleep at my in-laws house (where my mom is staying for the month--in-laws are in Oregon), so she was right upstairs.
Arrived in a hemorrhaging stupor at the ER, where Dave met us and was able to comfort me and allow my distraught but always heroic mom to take the babies home. The doctors, upon seeing the amount of blood, declared that if i had not already miscarried, i was probably in the process, and that it would not be painless, considering the gestational age/size of the babe. They hooked me up to an IV with some Fentanyl (marketed as "Sublimaze" in the 60s--friggin' sublimazing!), which calmed me down, to say the very least.
Enter sonographer. "How are you today?" he asked. I told him i'd "been better", but i was "pretty high." He applied the ultrasound gel to my belly and i closed my eyes, not wanting to see my empty womb. It's funny, as upset i was at the news of this pregnancy only a couple months ago, i realized how incredibly sad i was to lose it. I had just felt the first kicks the day before, and as anyone who has been pregnant knows, you can really start to fall in love early on. Turns out i really wanted this child, and i was truly devastated. I'm crying just writing this.
"Welllll....still there," I heard him say after a pause. I opened my eyes and looked at the screen. And there was a baby. Not just a sedentary little tiny fetus either, a vigorous, kicking, dancing fetus with a strong heartbeat, and a face, and everything! "WHAT!???" Dave and i asked in unison. We were utterly shocked. "How?? I can't even..." "Oh. My. God,"said Dave with an incredulous smile. I just kept blabbering in disbelief, because not only was the baby happily swimming around, my placenta appears to be COMPLETELY ATTACHED and dandy!! WOW.
--"Sooo..." i stammered, "Wait, wait, then maybe it was just a subchorionic hemorrhage and it grew and grew and then i just passed a giant clot and not the fetus? and my placenta looks ok after all????"
--"That's certainly what it looks like," he replied, looking slightly dubious that i just said "subchorionic hemorrhage" when i was crying, mostly naked, bleeding on a sheet, and wasted on what is essentially heroin at 4:30AM.
He continued to look around ultrasonically and inspect the situation. I noted and mentioned out loud that it appeared that the big blood clot that we saw in last ultrasound 10 days ago was all but gone, and he agreed. He said the baby appeared completely healthy and so did everything around it. He couldn't tell the gender yet, but i surmised that it must certainly be female, because boys simply do not pull dramatic bullshit like this.
Very relieved, Dave and i waited for the doctor to return. When she did, she was aghast. "I cannot believe this," she said, sitting next to the bed. "Wow. I was sure...SURE that this baby was gone. I was preparing the nurses, making sure they knew to tell you this wasn't your fault, and to be comforting during something as difficult as this. I have never had someone bleed like this and then have a strong healthy fetus, and i've worked here for 12 years! It's wonderful!"
Sadly, she told us that the very opposite had happened to a woman only two hours beforehand. She was 4 months along and just had a bit of light spotting. The doctor did an ultrasound "just to give her peace of mind", as she was sure it would be nothing, and they saw no heartbeat. The poor woman had a miscarriage right then and there. SO heartbreaking! We always think our lives are such chaos, but someone always has it harder, sometimes right next door. (This observation brought Dave and me to ponder about the Dooce next door neighbors. In her blog, she claims that "the chaos in her house is unreal." She has only two children with a very acceptable age distance between them, a nanny, an assistant, and a wildly successful blog. It was quiet as a tomb the day i was over there, and i was acutely jealous of their peaceful silence. Thus, this morning, in my still very drugged state said, "I'll show you chaos, bitches. Ima throw that blood clot at your fucking window." Now, this is an extremely crass and highly inappropriate thing to say, and these seem like very lovely, funny people with whom i wish to burn no bridges. I would love for our children and dogs to be able to play, and to have gin and tonics together on occasion. But YOU try Fentanyl after a harrowing debacle, and see what flies out of YOUR mouth. Apologies in advance, Heather and Jon.)
"However," the doc continued, "We are not out of the woods yet. That was a LOT of bleeding, and we always have to be very cautious. Although, against all reason, your blood counts are actually HIGHER than they were before, and your hormone counts are fantastic, as is the fetal heart rate. It's really something." But she said i can't mess around--strict bed rest until further notice from my midwife.
So i am feeling, once again, like a very, very lucky, lady. My friend Mary said, "You are the luckiest person ever. That baby has some serious guardian angels. It's uncanny." And my sister (after recovering from her minor heart attack) put it succinctly and perfectly, as she always does: "RACHEL!! WHO is living inside of you????" I'm not sure, but they seem quite insistent upon getting here, and likely rocking pretty seriously hard. I can't wait to be introduced.
7.26.2010
7.08.2010
Total Eclipse of My Anus
Oh man. Where do i begin? How can i even wrap words around this one? I suppose i must begin by unveiling the raging adolescent homosexual within me with the admission of Twilight Guilt. I read them, i read them all, and even possibly neglected one or more of my children during the more "angsty" chapters. I read the second book immediately after putting down the first one in disgust and continued through all of them in the space of a week. I came out with the sinking, confused feeling of wanting to fuck a non-existant, barely-legal vampire man (a non-existant man, for that matter: "Oh, Bella, you're my world, ohhh it's so hard doing the right thing ohhh i am richer than Oprah ohhh let me protect your virtue blehhhhh"--undead or not, this man has never walked the earth...) and knowing that shit ain't happenin', ever. This is much akin to the pouty frowns brought upon after the Harry Potter books when i realized that the acceptance letter brought by my owl was never coming, and i would never attend Hogwarts (or ANY school for witchcraft and wizardry, for that matter!!!). Such a buzzkill.
Next, i should point out that the country/worldwide phenomenon of Twilight is enhanced significantly here in Salt Lake City, the Capri Pant Capital of the Universe. For the zero of you who do not know, the series was penned by a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Premarital-Angst. And boy, do they have this shit nailed (pun). The Mormons will evidently do EVERYTHING but have premarital sex, which makes terrific fodder for angst-laden vampire novels. I learned this 'the hard way'. Or at least 'the weird way'. One time, whilst in the midst of a bikini wax, my waxer suggested i might wince less if i put some Anal-Ease on my ladyparts prior to the waxing:
-"I beg your pardon?" i tilted my head slightly upward.
-"That's what all my LDS clients do, " she calmly replied.
-"Did you just say Anal-Ease?" Perhaps i misheard her.
-"Ya, you know, like for anal sex?"
-"Mormons? Anal sex???"
-"Well ya, cause, you know, it's not actual sex."
-"I beg to differ."
-"Well you know, they can remain chaste in the church and still...you know. They do that 'soaking' thing too."
-"WHAT???" (Do not forget i am having hair ripped from what feels like my soul at this point.)
-"Soaking. It's when they don't move. They just...stay there. Still."
-"Sweet Jesus."
-"Ya. Put your leg on my shoulder."
And Stephenie Meyer has all these Mormon bitches creaming their capris, let me tell you. For the New Moon premiere awhile back, my 30-something-mom buddies and i decided to get our gay on and join every single tween and morbidly obese person in the entire valley at the Megaplex. "We're gay too!" we might as well have screamed. It was bedlam. So packed with losers of varying degrees you wouldn't believe it. At one point right before the show, one of the obese audience members (whose largesse prevented her/it from actually occupying a movie seat and was forced to sit on the outside of the aisle in the handicapped zone) actually started howling. Oh my God. And then she/it yelled, "Free popcorn for everybody!!!" Fortunately i had had enough wine at that point in the night to yell back, "Chill it, Howlin' Wolf, you don't need any more goddamn popcorn!"
Anyhoo, i love love love going to the movies no matter what, and i most love going with my 9-year-old, Beau. It gives us some rare time alone together, and his company is especially appreciated when he acts as the artifice behind which i hide my utter nerdiness. Like when i'm seeing any of the Harry Potter movies for the third time in the theater, for example. The time i went alone, i fended off some "nerd alert!" looks by casually tossing my head and mentioning to the family in line behind me, "Yeah, my kids LOVE these movies." They smiled and nodded, utterly but politely aware of the fact that i was there completely solo.
Tonight was similar, although it is perhaps slightly less convincing to strangers that a 9-year-old boy wants to check out Taylor Lautner's ripped abs and piggy face. (Team Edward all the way, bitches.) And the movie basically sucked my delicious balls. It was entertaining, and i liked the fighting alright, but dang. It was even a little too gay for me. The best part, however, was the scene where Jacob and Edward have a heart to heart in a tiny tent in the mountains. I am sure you can see where i am headed here, but i'll say it anyway: My deepest desire was for Jacob to go totally fucking Heath Ledger on Edward's Gyllenhaal ass and get it over with. That is the only possible way it could've been gayer than it already was, and it would've been far more straightforward and enjoyable.
Oh yeah, and speaking of gay, i forgot to mention the buncha Mormons (who else?) sitting behind us. Apparently this was a big event for the lot of them, and they wanted to be sure they got some GREAT pictures. So right before the movie the husbands stood in the front of the theater and took group shots of their wives sitting in the theater seats until "Oh! Uh-oh, the memory card's full!" said one husband. "Oh my God," said Beau. "That is the most annoying thing in the WORLD. What is the matter with them?"
In short, see this movie if you: A) are a Mormon fucknut, B) you are bringing your tweenage daughter you are attempting to keep chaste via vampire undead unsex, or C), like me, you simply have no self-control whatsoever. The best part of the whole movie? The Harry Potter Deathly Hallows preview. Totally righteous.
Next, i should point out that the country/worldwide phenomenon of Twilight is enhanced significantly here in Salt Lake City, the Capri Pant Capital of the Universe. For the zero of you who do not know, the series was penned by a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Premarital-Angst. And boy, do they have this shit nailed (pun). The Mormons will evidently do EVERYTHING but have premarital sex, which makes terrific fodder for angst-laden vampire novels. I learned this 'the hard way'. Or at least 'the weird way'. One time, whilst in the midst of a bikini wax, my waxer suggested i might wince less if i put some Anal-Ease on my ladyparts prior to the waxing:
-"I beg your pardon?" i tilted my head slightly upward.
-"That's what all my LDS clients do, " she calmly replied.
-"Did you just say Anal-Ease?" Perhaps i misheard her.
-"Ya, you know, like for anal sex?"
-"Mormons? Anal sex???"
-"Well ya, cause, you know, it's not actual sex."
-"I beg to differ."
-"Well you know, they can remain chaste in the church and still...you know. They do that 'soaking' thing too."
-"WHAT???" (Do not forget i am having hair ripped from what feels like my soul at this point.)
-"Soaking. It's when they don't move. They just...stay there. Still."
-"Sweet Jesus."
-"Ya. Put your leg on my shoulder."
And Stephenie Meyer has all these Mormon bitches creaming their capris, let me tell you. For the New Moon premiere awhile back, my 30-something-mom buddies and i decided to get our gay on and join every single tween and morbidly obese person in the entire valley at the Megaplex. "We're gay too!" we might as well have screamed. It was bedlam. So packed with losers of varying degrees you wouldn't believe it. At one point right before the show, one of the obese audience members (whose largesse prevented her/it from actually occupying a movie seat and was forced to sit on the outside of the aisle in the handicapped zone) actually started howling. Oh my God. And then she/it yelled, "Free popcorn for everybody!!!" Fortunately i had had enough wine at that point in the night to yell back, "Chill it, Howlin' Wolf, you don't need any more goddamn popcorn!"
Anyhoo, i love love love going to the movies no matter what, and i most love going with my 9-year-old, Beau. It gives us some rare time alone together, and his company is especially appreciated when he acts as the artifice behind which i hide my utter nerdiness. Like when i'm seeing any of the Harry Potter movies for the third time in the theater, for example. The time i went alone, i fended off some "nerd alert!" looks by casually tossing my head and mentioning to the family in line behind me, "Yeah, my kids LOVE these movies." They smiled and nodded, utterly but politely aware of the fact that i was there completely solo.
Tonight was similar, although it is perhaps slightly less convincing to strangers that a 9-year-old boy wants to check out Taylor Lautner's ripped abs and piggy face. (Team Edward all the way, bitches.) And the movie basically sucked my delicious balls. It was entertaining, and i liked the fighting alright, but dang. It was even a little too gay for me. The best part, however, was the scene where Jacob and Edward have a heart to heart in a tiny tent in the mountains. I am sure you can see where i am headed here, but i'll say it anyway: My deepest desire was for Jacob to go totally fucking Heath Ledger on Edward's Gyllenhaal ass and get it over with. That is the only possible way it could've been gayer than it already was, and it would've been far more straightforward and enjoyable.
Oh yeah, and speaking of gay, i forgot to mention the buncha Mormons (who else?) sitting behind us. Apparently this was a big event for the lot of them, and they wanted to be sure they got some GREAT pictures. So right before the movie the husbands stood in the front of the theater and took group shots of their wives sitting in the theater seats until "Oh! Uh-oh, the memory card's full!" said one husband. "Oh my God," said Beau. "That is the most annoying thing in the WORLD. What is the matter with them?"
In short, see this movie if you: A) are a Mormon fucknut, B) you are bringing your tweenage daughter you are attempting to keep chaste via vampire undead unsex, or C), like me, you simply have no self-control whatsoever. The best part of the whole movie? The Harry Potter Deathly Hallows preview. Totally righteous.
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