Thursday, August 13, 2009

As if carbs and sweets weren't enough...

Well, I had my allergy testing today. I'd been through it once before, over (gasp) 20 years ago, when I was 10. Back then, I was allergic to everything under the sun, it seemed. I went through desensitization shots, though, but continued having allergy symptoms, so I figured it was worth figuring out what I was dealing with.

Well, you know the phrase "the devil you know is better than the devil you don't"? I'm not so sure that applies here. Going in, I'd been reasonably sure I was allergic to cats (having been diagnosed with that allergy before--again, 20 years ago). I thought that dealing with the cat problem (as we have two of them) was going to be my hardest battle. 

Oh, how I wish that was so. 

I'm not actually allergic to cats. At least, I'm not allergic to them anymore, which is great news for both my boyfriend and our cats. I'm not allergic to dogs. I'm mildly allergic to grasses and trees. I'm really allergic to two things: dust mites and molds.

This may not seem bad to you, dear reader. Perhaps you are not familiar with the nasty little arachnid that looks like this:
EEGADS! That thing is terrifying! The fact that it is so tiny I will never ever see it doesn't make me feel better!

Neither does the fact that they are in EVERYTHING I OWN. They are EATING MY SKIN. This is horrible! They have infested my bed, my carpet, my couches. They are pooping and I am breathing in their poop and this is NOT OKAY. 

I think that, if I had to choose something to be allergic to, I would pick dust mites because they are so damn creepy.

What I wouldn't pick is having to cover my mattress, my pillows, my box spring, with expensive allergy resistant covers. I certainly wouldn't pick having to buy a high end vacuum cleaner with a HEPA filter. And I would never choose to get rid of soft cover couches, replacing them with vinyl! That is nuts!

Still, as bad as all of that is, the mold allergy is far worse. Yes, it is just as insidious as the dust mites, hiding places I'll never see it. But there are certain things I can avoid to reduce my contact to mold, and those things are:

  • cheese
  • mushrooms
  • foods made with yeast
  • sour cream
  • buttermilk
  • beer
  • wine
  • potatoes
  • soy sauce
  • vinegar
  • sauerkraut
  • nuts
  • pickled or smoked meats and fish
  • dried fruits
  • raw vegetables and fruits
Oh what the hell? That's like, all foods! Or at least all the foods I like to eat. And giving up foods? Not one of my strong points. 

At least I can start immunotherapy, which will help reduce my sensitivity. In about, oh, say, five years. 

I'm gonna go cry in the corner now.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Four ears and a celebrity sighting.

Lots of things happening but little time to post; leave it to a night of insomnia to finally get me behind the keyboard!

The corn is coming along as well as can be expected, I suppose! We had another visitor stop and engage us in conversation about our corn the other day (it mostly went like the majority of our conversations about the corn go:
 "Is that corn?"
 "Yeah!"
 "That's so cool!"
 "We know! We couldn't believe it when it started growing."
 "Wait you didn't plant it?"
 "No, we just thought it was some weird tropical plant, and then---"

And then we had the makings of four ears! Two have prominent silks that have unfurled themselves in hopes of catching some tassel seeds, or whatever they're called (and to be honest, Mike and I have been attempting to help them along with this to some extent); two are still working their way out. 

In other news, Mike and I are on a 30 day challenge, wherein we have resolved to not eat out for 30 days (except for my birthday, which is next week). I, of course, promptly broke that resolution with a meal out to celebration a friend and coworker's completion of his dissertation, complete with a stop to our favorite cake shop for some cupcakes. In retribution, I returned home to a letter from my doctor containing my latest blood test results and the words "Less Carbs & Sugar!" Oh, how the universe works together to mock me.

Also, Stephanie, Lisa & I went to see Julie & Julia this past Sunday. It's a cute movie, and we're all pretty into food and cooking and the like, so it was a good fit for us. Also a good fit? Running into some of the cast and crew of the movie "Flipped," which is filming here in town! We recognized Anthony Edwards and Rob Reiner, but they were with a number of others that I'm sure were members of the cast and crew. I admit, we did giggle a bit when they came into our theatre. 

I think to start my career as a food blogger, I might write a real review of the movie at some point. Or maybe of dinner next week at the new Ann Arbor locavore restaurant, grange (where mike is taking me for my birthday!). 

But not now. Now is bedtime. Good night, all! 

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Corn Stalker

Our corn continues to grow and proliferate; we now have three tassels and the makings of two ears. We also have a stalker. 

Perhaps stalker might be too strong of a word. However, when Mike and I came home for lunch today (one of the perks of living so close to work now!) we ran into one of our neighbors who told us the strange tale of a woman in a white Kia. Apparently this woman was driving past our house, slammed on the brakes, reversed, and began taking photos of our house. She then BACKED UP onto the street that intersects our directly across from our house and sat there for a while, watching the house. 

Can you say creepy? I can!

We joked some about the new online version of a newspaper that we have in town taking pictures of our corn for publication, but I doubt that's likely. I do figure that the corn had to be attention-drawing feature of our house, though, because it's the only thing that's really unusual about our front yard. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my house, and I think it is gosh darn adorable. But it is an neighborhood full of gosh darn adorable houses. I can't see how ours would be more attention grabbing than another. 

But I must make a plea to the woman in the white Kia. Why were you photographing my house? My corn? What do you plan to do with those photos? Report us to Monsanto?

I promise updates as they come. I may even make them up if they don't.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Food Blogger.

I want to be a food blogger. 

I've decided this recently, and have realized that my lackadaisical way of blogging just won't work for this pursuit, so I'm attempting to remedy this. Here are some of the ways I'm taking action:

1) This post, for starters.
2) Taking pictures of my cooking, like this:

3) Joining the mailing list for a local food-oriented community, Friday Morning
s @SELMA. It's been getting a lot of press in Ann Arbor lately, and it seems like a good place to meet lots of like-minded individuals. 
4) Following unique-to-me food stories, like this stalk of corn growing in my front yard:
This stalk started of relatively innocuous, a very purposeful sprout of green that I figured must be there for a reason (Mike and I moved into our new house at the start of the spring, so we've been watching what comes up with a careful eye, learning our landscaping as we go). It soon took on monstrous proportions, however, and I came to terms with the fact that there was only one plant I knew of that looked like that--corn. I was pretty sure it wouldn't produce any ears, however, as I figured it most need another stalk to cross-pollinate with. Our friendly neighborhood corn grower at the farmer's market, however, told us that was a fallacy. All it needed was for the tassel (the male part of the corn) to drop its goodies onto the silks (the female part, that actually form the kernels). Well then.

We returned home from the farmer's market and realized the tassel has grown on our stalk of corn. So now we wait. How many ears will we get? Will it be edible? More stories to come, I'm sure. 

Unless it is an alien pod come to possess our bodies. Then this blog might take a turn. 


Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Overheard, part 2.

Today's installment, while Mike does dishes.

Mike: Well, I would love to be at your beck and call, Pocket, but I have something else that I'm doing that takes a little bit more attention. 
Pocket: Mwraar.
Mike: I don't care if you could do it with your eyes closed. 

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

A conversation I just overheard from the kitchen...

Pocket: Meoowr.
Mike: I love you too.
Pocket: Merrrw.
Mike: Well, that's very nice of you to say.
Pocket: Mrwwwowr.
Mike: I too am glad that swine flu did not overtake America.


Sicky.

Today marks my second day home sick this week. 

I thought it was just allergies at first. After all, I'd done four hours of yard work, AND my animals are all in the midst of shedding season. My sinuses filled, my head ached. I didn't want to wake up Sunday morning, so I spent most of it in bed, sniffling. I downed my allergy medicine and waited for it work it's magic. It didn't. 

I went about the rest of my day, convincing myself that all I needed was to get moving. My head started aching terribly. Just dehydration, I said, drinking large glasses of water, which only served to make my throat start itching. 

So here I am, under the covers. I slept most of yesterday away, spending the rest of it reading and playing Animal Crossing. Maggie slept with me, which means that when it was actually nighttime and time for sleep, she was as restless as anything. I threw some toys for her while I slept on the couch (the better to not contaminate Mike). I actually fell asleep with a toy in my hand. 

At least I was productive last week so I had homemade chicken stock for soup. I've downed a bunch of Emergen-C as well, and Nyquil, and goddammit, something has to start working. I'm running out of sick time until September. I need to get back to work.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Weight Watchers, or Self-Disappointment

The other day Mike and I met up with some friends at an Ypsi bar. We hadn't seen a few of them in a while, and one of them, the wife of my coworker, looked great--half the size she'd been before, it seemed. She went on to explain that she'd lost 30 lbs on Weight Watchers. All present extolled the virtues of Weight Watchers (as they'd heard from those who had completed it). I, however, slunk back into my chair.

Why? I too had once lost 30 lbs on Weight Watchers. I'd been ecstatic. I'd sworn I'd be one to keep it off. And here I was, having gained almost all of it back. 

Every few months I look at myself in the mirror, or check my weight on the scale and say, "OK, enough's enough--it's time to get back on Weight Watchers." I mean, I've kept my online membership for two years now; it's kind of like I've never actually been OFF of it. But I start tracking points again, begin feeling guilty about the food I'm eating, find myself unable to actually give up the food I want to eat, start tracking less--until I'm not longer tracking at all. And the weight, she keeps on rising. 

I wish I was a naturally active person to counteract this food love I have an ongoing problem with, but I'm not. 

So I'm stuck in this same cycle, and the people I love make veiled comments to me like, "maybe you shouldn't eat that," or "you snack an awful lot," or "how can you still be hungry? you just ate," or even, "you should exercise, then it would balance out how much you eat," and I get angry and resentful and--guess what?--eat more. 

I know Weight Watchers works, because I've done it. I know it's not that painful. But it is an awful lot of thinking constantly about your food, which I already do enough of. I am food obsessed. 

I suppose I should either admit that I've failed Weight Watchers and cancel the membership ($16.95 a month!) or I should get back on the horse. 

I just don't want to make that decision. 

Saturday, April 25, 2009

A pretty noteworthy day...

In it's ordinariness. 

We woke up early, thanks to some animales who were dancing for food and walks. Got back in bed though, for another lazy hour or so. Jean stopped by to drop off the wee table we were buying from her (for a whopping $3). Pocket fell in love with the table. 

We dressed and began unpacking boxes and folding clothes. Things suddenly began falling into place. We took a break and ran downtown for some bibimbap (my new love, with tofu and brown rice) and twigim (fried veggies) at Kosmo, then a walk through the farmer's market. Most stands didn't have harvested crops yet, so we bought some seedlings. We picked up some broccoli, green leaf lettuce, sage, basil, thyme, onions, and anaheim peppers. The seedlings have now taken up residence on the front stoop, where they wait to be planted.

We finished unpacking most things (even if most things aren't in their proper location just yet) and moved the rest of the unpacked items to one room, in the basement, which makes the house feel oh-so-much-homier. Mike's parents dropped in then with the traditional Jewish housewarming gift of bread (so you never go hungry), salt (for the sweat of your labor? I think), and something sweet (two-bite brownies, yum). 

After we gave them a tour of the house (which they loved), we took them to Zingerman's Roadhouse for the first time. Was that a huge hit! We shared an artisanal cheese plate as an appetizer, then each got a different entree. Well, Mike and his mom both got fried chicken, which I stole a bite of--heavenly. Perfectly cooked. I went for the vegetarian option of Carolina Grits with veggies and a cider dressing, or some such. It was topped with 2-year-aged vermont cheddar. It was amazing, and exactly what I was looking for. 

After they left, Mike and I were supposed to head into Detroit for some karaoking. Our day of productivity had left us exhausted, unfortunately, so we bowed out of those plans in favor of what turned out to be a God-awful movie--Blindness. We made it 48 minutes in (with 1 hr and 12 minutes remaining). We had some debate about which timer was which, as Mike couldn't believe we'd only watched 48 minutes of that dreck. So depressing. Watch only if you like watching dirty naked people stepping in feces. Dirty, naked, sad, depressed, blind people, that is. I'd forgotten already about the trend of making movies wherein the authority figures are nothing but torturers, essentially, against innocents and with no good reason at all. Oh, the legacy of Guantanamo. 

Now I am showered and pajamaed and ready for some bedtime reading of Helter Skelter (our book club selection this month). My house is beginning to feel like my home. Yay.

Friday, April 24, 2009

Also, a dream.

Two nights ago, I had a dream that I was sitting with a friend outside of a building when a limo drove up. Out got the one, the only, Mr. David Bowie. Only he wasn't mature, self-possessed, married-to-Iman David Bowie--he was Labyrinthian David Bowie. He approached us, shook our hands. When he got to me, I marveled at how soft and delicate his hands were. 

"You have the softest skin I've ever felt," I said to him, as he held his hand as if to proffer it to me for a kiss. "What do you use?"

"Oh," he said nonchalantly. "I have a guy. A lotionierre."

I nodded and released his hand, contemplating the tasks a lotionierre might undertake. David Bowie continued on. My friend called after him, "Say hi for us!"

He stopped and turned around. "Say hi to whom?"

"Henry," I said, as in my head, my friend's baby Henry suddenly became David Bowie's newborn Grandson Henry. David Bowie laughed. I woke up. 

Unpacking (and the desire for normalcy)

We've been in the house since Sunday. By Wednesday, I felt like I was going to explode. 

There are boxes everywhere still; I get dressed by digging through crates and finding the first clean and presentable items I can put together. 

The basement is still leaking, after reconstruction on the chimney and regrading the ground and extending the downspout further from the house. The B-Dri guy is looking into it now. 

I finally have a kitchen, but the only thing I've cooked in it is Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. I'm hoping to make a big pot of hungarian potato soup this weekend--while also unpacking everything and cleaning the old apartment so we can finally be out of it. It's also supposed to be 80 degrees; is it too much to ask that I might get to work on my yard some?

Mike's parents come to visit Saturday; Erin's coming over Sunday. Jean is stopping by Saturday morning to drop off a wee table for us. How am I supposed to fit in all this work and socializing in two days without waking up Monday feeling like I need a vacation?

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

New Things.

I've always been a sucker for new things. I like the crinkle of plastic and the gleam of shiny surfaces. I get drawn to products I'd never by when they change up their packaging. This past month has been a flurry of new things, all of which mean I will have a bundle of things to post about--and, finally, a means with which to post. 

First off, Mike and I have bought a house! It is adorable, 3 bedrooms, 1 bath, finished basement, 2 fireplaces, brick, looks out over a ravine. This house is totally us. We've been working on renovating it (painting, putting down carpet, hanging blinds, tearing out closets) for the past month. Finally, on Sunday, we get to move into it. We packed our first boxes tonight. After the weeks of working on the house, I'm already exhausted.

Second, I realized that I can buy computer stuff through the university I work at! This means I am the proud new owner of a Macbook, which I am using to type to you RIGHT NOW! No more shoddy and cheap Acer PC for me! No more overheating after 10 minutes. No more taking 5 of those minutes for Vista to boot up. Finally, I can write again.

Now I just need to find the battery charger for camera; then I can post pictures!

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Why You Should Pay Attention at the Grocery Store.

On Sunday, I made a quick trip to Whole Foods, alone, for some necessities. I try not to do too major of a shopping trip at Whole Foods because of the prices and the crowds, but I do love it. I love the whole ambiance, and you have to appreciate any store that's as conscientious about its product and its ingredients--even if it is a chain. In any case, it was just a short trip, for yogurt and lunch stuff and some salsa and things...and coffee. I nearly forgot the coffee, and hit the aisle with a full basket and a distracted mind, already tired of shopping.

Given the mark up at Whole Foods, I seek out sales/365 generics/other discounts wherever I can, just to save a couple dollars. I scanned the coffee shelves by price tag, not by flavor, feeling confident that whatever I would grab would likely be at least fair trade, possibly organic, and most likely tasty. I find the cheapest bag (shockingly priced at $6.99), see that it's 75% organic, feel satisfied, and hit the checkout.

I finished off my old bag of coffee on Monday, then failed to wake up in time to make coffee this morning. After getting home this evening, I was craving a warm cup of coffee and a biscotti to unwind with (my new-found biscotti obsession a topic for another day). I set about opening up the bag, and notice the words "naturally caffeine free."

I stop. Even decaffeinated coffee isn't "naturally" caffeine free. What was this strange coffee?

I examine the label. It turns out that it wasn't coffee at all, but rather, a coffee-like beverage made from chicory, carob, almonds, and some other nonsense. What the hell? Seriously! Who comes up with this? And then tries to sell as a health tonic for coffee lovers? Or, get this--an alternative to hot cocoa for kids?!?!

It smelled okay, though, and I really wanted that biscotti, so I brewed up a pot. It was quite possibly the most noxious beverage I've ever tasted.

As long as I was dipping the biscotti into it, it wasn't bad, but the first sip was nearly undrinkable. I didn't go back for another.

The point of this story is, saving money isn't worth misreading the label. And if you see something called "Teeccino," know, it is neither tea nor coffee. Be advised.

Monday, February 2, 2009

Simple Pleasures

My favorite thing in the world is waking up early to take care of something (walking the dog, for instance) and then crawling back into bed for another hour or two of sleep. The sleep I get then is the best sleep in the world.

The second best sleep in the world is the sleep I get curled up on the couch watching a favorite movie, like Robin Hood, or playing Animal Crossing--though Mike would disagree with me. 

My favorite people in the world --my family, Mike, my friends-- can make a bad day seem good.

I never thought I'd meet someone who I would feel so completely at home with, so comfortable, so in tune. Then I met Mike. 

I love my animals. Just watching Maggie play with a toy is like a brief meditation.

What I wouldn't give for a warm cup of tea and a biscotti some place other than work right now.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Maggie is a social climber.

Back in December, Mike and I adopted a rather lovely, well-behaved, sweet-natured shiba inu named Maggie. She's about 29 pounds, low to the ground, and 8 years old. We (reasonably, I'd say) assumed that most of her rebellious days were behind her. Shibas are known for their strong-mindedness, but she seemed to be amiable. She took well to the cats, letting them claim a place higher in the social hierarchy than she, and settled in to the routines of the house. Mike and I were pleased all around. I even remember boasting after a week or two, "Maggie sleeps through the night! It's great!"

Oh, how long ago those days seem.

Slowly at first, Maggie began demanding things--to be pet, for instance, or a toy, or just some good, old-fashioned, wrestling time. She'd demand things with a snort, or a wag of a tail, or a paw. Then came the bark.

Shibas aren't known for barking, and Maggie is not a barker the way you think of troublesome dogs barking, incessantly and distractingly. Maggie barks pointedly--one short, staccato bark that pierces your ear. She snorts, you don't respond, she barks. She would do this while we were awake--irritating, but we were happy she was communicating, and it was good to give her what she wanted. Then came one night when she barked in the middle of the night. I got up and let her out, but she didn't go. A smidge of dread set roots in my stomach; if she didn't have to go out, what did she want? Was this just going to get worse?

My dread has become full-fledged resentment at this point. Maggie barks multiple times a night now, for no good reason I can figure--no emergency, no need for a bathroom break, no burglar. She seems to bark because she's bored or, worst of all, because she wants food. Maggie is the most food oriented dog I've ever known, and I've come to believe that she feels slighted because she gets two meals a day that she scarfs down immediately, while the cats have access to food all day long. This is because the cats are completely neurotic about food, which is another story in and of itself. 

The real issue however, I learned yesterday as I spent another sleepy morning trying to get my head into the game after being woken up multiple times: Maggie does not respect us, and is attempting to leverage her power over us into a greater social position in our pack! Who knew that all the time we spent trying to make sure she was well taken care of, we were actually feeding into her power-hungriness? Looking back, I remember her foster family mentioning, "she's very dominant," but she showed no signs of it at first. I'd decided life was to be easy going with this pup. How wrong I was.

So now, I have to start exerting my dominance over her, proving myself to be the alpha; which is pretty funny, because she seems to have already accepted Pocket (the crankiest of the two cats) as the alpha in the group. I think in Maggie's head, our hierarchy goes like this: Pocket, Me, Mike, Her, and Skelly, and she's attempting to work her way up. 

You know what they say about not being able to teach old dogs new tricks? I really hope they're wrong.

Monday, January 26, 2009

I prefer the passive shooters, myself...

We received the updated campus emergency procedures booklets at work today--a rather fancy, tiered, spiral-bound presentation of what to do in case something horrible happens. My favorite category: the active shooter.

"An active shooter is a person or persons who appear to be actively engaged in killing or attempting to kill people in populated areas on campus."

Notice nowhere does it mention a gun. So one could be actively attempting to kill someone with a machete and still be termed an "active shooter."

Oh, U of M. You're so silly.

The point of this is...

When I was in my early 20's, I was a bit of a prolific blogger. I've weaned myself away from it over the years, only to find more and more people I know and love moving in the opposite direction. I love reading their thoughts, insights, worries, advice, and recipes. I also love looking back on the old things I blogged about, as a snapshot of a period of time. 

I've changed a lot since then, and I'm in the midst of finally making myself a home now, in my 30's, as opposed to just a place to live. I have a boyfriend, a dog, two cats, a sweet job, awesome coworkers, and a cool town to explore. I have new hobbies. I have opinions about everything. 

It seems like a good time to start documenting again.