7 Years to NoWhere

I can't believe it's been just-shy-of 4 years since I first started this blog. Does that much time actually elapse without even a glance at my blogging page? What has become of me?

Here I am again.
Draining my thoughts onto a computer screen. Hoping I don't make a mess.
Tapping away on a keyboard that drives my hubby insane. Like Chinese keyboard tickety-tackety-torture.

I have a lot of catching up to do.

(and it took me another 3 years to post this entry. yikes)

That's a total of 7 years it took to get to NoWhere, Bloggersville USA. I am quite impressed with myself.

Salt

I was once told there are three topics of conversation that determine a person's intellectual quality. The quote goes something like this:
"Great minds converse ideas;
Average minds converse events;
Small minds converse people."

I don't know who owns that quote, but I tend to agree.

Can one define the quality of the mind by means of the tongue? Sure. In fact, of course. From the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks. So wait, is it the heart or the mind? Ahhh. I believe we're on to something....but that's topic for another post.

There is a topic of conversation that missed the list. God. Wise minds discuss God. I haven't failed to notice that mentioning Him in a conversation changes the tone. Softens the countenance. And can even redirect energy into a very positive place. I've witnessed it time and again.

When you salt your conversation with God, people's hearts tenderize.

Allow me to simplify by using "salt" as an analogy to types of conversation.

God : Amethyst Bamboo Salt (aged Korean sea salt. very expensive)
Ideas: Himalayan Sea Salt.
Events: Kosher Salt.
People: Iodized Table Salt.

Speaking of sodium. My 2 year old is infatuated. He sprinkles it straight from the salt shaker onto his hand and .... lick.

Good thing it's Himalayan. He seems like a great mind to me. But then again, I am his Mommy.

GMO Dupery

I am appalled. Once again.

When a label says 'sugar' in the ingredients list, the last thing I think is 'sugar beet'. Let alone 'GMO'.
Lord help us and our food supply.

I should have known better considering my earlier self-pronounced authority on the matter of GMO and healthy, blah blah blah. Fail.

I got wind of such matters from an press release by General Mills explaining how 2014, Cheerios is stripping it's GMOs from the Cheerio batter. I am happy and unappalled by the news. But then they explained in detail what that included: cornstarch (yeah. insert: smug, know it all face. fogging nails with my breath and wiping on my long john long sleeve shirt. corn, very GMOish. everyone knows that. arrogant smirk.) and sugar (smirk melts. hands sink into my long john sleeves) So 'sugar' means 'GMO' now? another dupery.

Now I'm spiraling. Getting the mental pictures of all the things I've consumed lately that were deemed safe and innocuous are now blacklisted. Is my granulated store brand sugar a GMO? I emailed Kroger...still waiting on the verdict.

Is the 'sugar' in my Rice Chex a GMO? Categorically so, my friend. Categorically So.
Appalling. Wretched fool I am.

Read an article here:

Beet now accounts for 55 percent of the 10 million tons of refined sugar consumed in the country each year.

This does bring me a sense of hope in the upcoming year to hear that such a large company is now changing their formula in one of their iconic breakfast cereals. This (not-so-little) rutter can move a large ship into a wonderful direction for consumers. Even though I felt kicked in the wind pipe at first acknowledgement - I am recognizing the positive force of motion, the kinetic energy, this can bring about. Happy days after all.

And good news! I found out today that Joe's O's from Trader Joe's are GMO free, do not include wheat in the ingredients list (I'm trying to avoid wheat as much as possible) and are only $1.99 for a 14oz box!
Score. Bravo, Trader Joe's.

Update on the Kroger response:

Dear Valued Customer:

Thank you for contacting Kroger regarding the Kroger brand Granulated Sugar. This sugar is sourced from beets, sugar cane or a blend of both. Since our suppliers change so often it is impossible to know how each individual bag has been processed. I apologize I am unable to assist you.

So the verdict? Yes. Or, at least, when in doubt, don't.

Time Travel Blogging

The most unhummable genre ever. Rap. Or even hip-hop for that matter.
I don't know why, but I've had Shutterbug stuck in my head and I only know 3 words in the entire song. Makes humming the tune very inconvenient.

This is why I like singing Jazz. I am expected and sometime required to make lyrics up. screw up the melody. tie in another lick from a different song. They call it improvising. I call it convenient.

I studied Ethnomusicology at UCLA and (am still!) a 2 credit performance away from graduating. I was never smart enough to apply for a degree in Biology, or Poli-Sci. Too much demand from summa cum laude graduates with 'school newspaper editor' and 'president of the geological archiving club' on their applications. So I picked an obscure degree. Musicology. Sort of like choosing to play the Oboe or Hammered Dulcimer to guarantee a slot in the orchestra. No on plays the hammered dulcimer (except the eccentric beatniks I ended up hanging out with). It turned out my plan for irrelevence in a Bachelors Degree worked. Kids out of highschool were signing up for Psychology Majors. I was poking around in the clearance rack of Bachelors degrees. Jackpot. Now I escape an hour away from my parent's home in Orange County and into the Brentwood-Wilshire-Sunset BLVD, Los Angeles' smelly and awkward arms of freedom! Musicology = Independence. Sign. Me. Up.

Don't mind the Caveat: I was accepted as a Spring semester student, so I opted to take extension classes until I could officially enroll one semester after all of my smarter and more capable friends did. After the first semester had completed and I was enrolled, I decided to change majors and try for the Jazz Performance program. The only way to take that as a specialty was to Major in Ethnomusicology. So therein lies my (near) Degree of choice.

Even in my rebellion I was practical. So after my audition - I was officially studying something I could wrap my limited brain around. Music. Jazz.

And as I peer back into history for a moment, I am glowing with delight.

Reflecting on the past is healthy. When I write of these memories now, I am nostalgic. But it never felt as good then as it does in my memory right now as I type.

Satan can steal our moments. he is a thief that seaks to steal, kill, and destroy. And he tries to throw one over on us. I'm on to it. And I will take my moment back like an indian giver. I will enjoy Right Now! I will love it and pretend I am 10 years fast-forwarded and writing about how great it was. I am future blogging my today experience. I am a time traveling blogger. Buckle up.

This is my victory in Christ. Enjoying today. Sign. Me. Up.

Seahorse SCOBY

I hate mispronouncing words. I've googled and you tubed my way through the usual suspects.

"Quinoa"
"Turmeric"
"Phò", "Kefir", "Crepe", "Habakkuk"

The list goes on and on.
Now, read this and pronounce it for me.
'ThéBÜ'

Accents and Umlots and SCOBYs, Oh My!

So besides having a strange affinity for proper pronunciation - I have now developed an affinity for kombucha. And the irony is found in the affinity to now pronounce my kombucha properly. Minutes of entertainment.

Kombucha has found its way to our bellies over the last few weeks for health reasons. A need to align our digestive tracts. To get the gut flora friendly and feasting on favorable fermentations (oy-vey the alliteration!).
The road to fine flora is a narrow and lacto-aerobic-bubbly one. lined  with the yogurts, kimche, saurkraut, miso, and apple cider vinegar cleanses. But so far it's been worth it.

Well - sort of worth it. Besides the dent these can put in the pocketbook. So now I want to make my own bubbly delight. My only fear is controlling the level of alcohol it produces. oh yeah. and the shudders of disgust every time I open the fridge to a jellyfish-like substance (ie Symbiotic Culture Of Bacteria and Yeast = SCOBY) hanging out next to my milk and eggs. Maybe I can make a refrigerated aquarium for it with coral, seahorses, a rock cave and plastic crab so people think I'm normal and have normal people things in my home. But in reality, its housing great potential. an imbiber's delight. a specimen awaiting it's introduction to sweet tea. be fruitful and multiply, oh little bacteria and yeast. It rests in it's simulated aquarium - in quiet anticipation of making me healthier and happier and detoxified.

Speaking of which...

The last time I had a fish in my care- a Beta to be specific- It committed suicide. Jumped to its death.

If I find a SCOBY on the floor when I get home, I'm scrapping the aquarium.

Extra Virgin Lactose Blues

The only cheese around here is in my jokes.
We learned, after much suspicion, that my editor has stopped producing sufficient lactase enzymes in his GI tract. We believe it's a direct result of the round of broad spectrum antiobiotics he took during a tooth infection a few months back. Since then, his gut hasn't felt the same. And now we found the culprit. Dairy. Specifically milk. More specifically a full glass 30 minutes before bed. It's a sad day for a hubby that loves creamy dishes, white sauces, and a glass of milk to cap the day. We're believing in full restoration of all enzymes and gut flora. But until then, we're singing the lactose blues.

What are we cooking instead? 

Spicy Hummus

adapted from a Rachael Ray recipe
1 (14.5 oz.) can garbanzo beans, drained or 1 3/4 c. cooked garbanzo beans
1/2 c. extra virgin olive oil

1/2 t. crushed pepper flakes

1 t. ground cumin

1 t. ground coriander

3 cloves garlic, finely crushed
1/2 tsp Sea Salt, to taste

1 1/2 TB lemon juice, fresh

Blend all ingredients in a food processor on the highest speed until creamy.
On spices: I like to use a coffee grinder (nutribullet) to blend the whole spices. It makes the house smell like an exotic spice jungle. coriander swinging from the trees.
On tahini: I have learned that this ingredient that traditional hummus recipes call for isn't necessary. Adding a little extra olive oil keeps the creaminess and flavor, without breaking the bank on this pricey sesame seed paste.
On Extra Virgin Olive Oil (EVOO): I tend to cook with standard, refined Olive Oil since it tolerates a higher flash point. Heat destroys the flavor in EVOO and renders the higher price tag pointless. But when there is no heat in a dish, such as a salad dressing, drizzled over veggies, or this Hummus recipe, I stick with the Extra Virgin counterpart.

Speaking of EVOO...I learned a disturbing fact months ago about quality and authenticity issues pertaining to our favored oil friend. It turns out that our 'Extra Virgin' has lost its virginity, started hanging out with the wrong crowd, picked up some bad habits, and hit the streets - and the label on its bottle didn't even see it coming. Tom Mueller is one of the beacons shining a light on the subject in a book he published. He states some olive oils are actually cocktails of soybean, sunflower seed and other oils, colored with chlorophyll and flavored with beta carotene to produce an 'extra virgin' olive oil counterfeit. After hundreds of independent tests done within the last decade, they've noticed minimal improvement in the authenticity of imported olive oils that claim to be extra virgin. Something around the ballpark of 70% of imports (mostly from Italy and some from Spain and Portugal) are considered fake. I now buy my olive oil from local or California grown olive farmers. Some states have even gone so far as to seal the real deal with a certified label to convince consumers that their innocent Extra Virgin Olive hasn't been tainted by a rough crowd.
Sprouts sells one that is good enough for my pocket book. 

I miss you, Norine.

Cooking a steak on the engine block of your car. (Road Trip!)
Baking cookies on your dashboard in the Summer heat.
I'm not so prolific in my cooking skills to include a vehicle or it's parts in the process of preparation. I have, however, exploded cans of soda pop in my car while at work a few times. More on the destructive side of the creation spectrum. It was below freezing, the soda got angry. What can I say? Winter in Northern Colorado almost caused me to explode a few times too.

There are parts of Colorado I really miss. I lived there for almost 4 years, so one might assume there would be a slight nostalgia hidden away somewhere. Maybe a memory or two that stand out as pleasant. Like driving down Eisenhower Blvd in Loveland during the Valentine's season. With a name like that, who could resist making the Hallmark holiday the city's favorite time of year? The street's light poles were affixed with giant cut-out hearts reading little messages like "all my love, ❤ Christine". But the city's pride was their re-mailing program. The post office would become a USPS sub-station for Valentine's day cards. Tens of volunteers would hand stamp a unique cachet on the postage before routing the card to it's final destination: your loved one, anywhere, USA.

Then there was Fall. The pumpkins grew to the circumference of a coffee table and the weight of a 7 year old boy. We would contest to see who could guess the largest pumpkin's weight. I never won anything. But, wouldn't you know! I guessed a weight. I think I got a 10 dollar bill. I think I spent it on soda. I think it exploded in the car.

And then there were the Rocky Mountain Oysters. And Esh's. And the Tuesday business meetings at PF Chang's. the sweet and sour soup. the rides in a green lotus with a thick, solitary yellow stripe down the middle. CSU colors. And the roundabouts. And my 94 year old friend, Norine Powell. I guess you could say I have some good memories. Cheers to making new ones.

I praise the Lord I have breath in me to do so.