It's Not Too Late!

I made it a personal challenge of mine this holiday season to donate my spare change every single time I came across a bell ringer for the Salvation Army. Quite frankly, it was nice to take away the "Should I or shouldn't I?" dilemma I normally felt when some days, I'd come across these folks three or four times a day. This year, it was a non-issue. Of course I would donate. Not only did my purse get a bit lighter (while my other shoulder was often weighted down with gifts), but I felt pretty darn okay, too.

Now it's time to move on to donate again to the Environmental Defense Fund. And I'm curious to hear about the charities you may have donated to this year. And please post links so others many check them out!

Serious Flashback Time

Recently, while visiting a friend, I found myself casually observing the interactions between her teenage daughter and the girl's male "friend" throughout the evening. At first, it appeared to truly be a friendly situation only. However, as the evening progressed from ping pong to lazing on the couch in front of the TV, it became clear that a teenage romance was budding before my very eyes.

It also amazed me that despite my inability to see the awesomeness that apparently is Lady Gaga (really? No, really??), very little has changed in the realm of teenage flirtation since my hormone laden days. Apparently, the rules in trying to score the attention of a cute boy have pretty much remained the same. Lots of smiling, a careful amount of laughing at the right time, a lot of questions fired off about his school activities (whether you really cared or not), and then when it came to that time on the couch, after you had assessed your proximity to him, when you had edged over just a little, perhaps just to cross your legs in his direction, after you noticed that he had responded to you by turning your way just the teeniest bit, after you finally took that deep breath, you would would make your move to...

put your head on his shoulder.

Yes, this is what I walked in on the other night. A little cuddle while watching Glee. I had walked into the living room to grab my purse and accidentally witnessed what I can only assume was a very calculated head-on-shoulder move. The boy, sitting there all tall and rigid, also had a ridiculous, goofy smile plastered on his face. As I hightailed it out of there, I stifled a giggle. I could only imagine the racing hearts, those exciting endorphins, those obsessive thoughts of FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHEN IS HE GONNA KISS ME?

Oh, to be sixteen again.

Funny, then, that I'm heading that way myself tonight. No, there's no time travel involved. But I'm going to be seeing my old high school boyfriend in just a few hours, the guy I dated when I was sixteen. We've actually hung out quite a bit throughout the years after the requisite "I HATE YOU!" stage that seemed to last not only senior year but a good chunk of college, too. (What can I say? I was an angry teenage girl.)

I can't say that either one of us is secretly pining after one another "after all these years." No, it's morphed into more of a brotherly/sisterly "Oh my God, you said what to her?" kind of relationship than anything else. But it's absolutely fascinating to me that just seeing this guy can resurrect funny old memories and sweet, innocent feelings that I had thought were long ago lost. How can that not make me smile?

It's also amazing to me how some of those initial feelings, questions, and behaviors of our teenage dating years still manage to creep back in twenty years later when we're all mature and beyond all of that awkwardness. Right. Body language is body language and I don't think that changes all that much.

But do I still think putting my head on someone's shoulder is a big step? Actually, yes. Especially after hours of quiet chatter on my back porch. I guess I'm a sucker for a Summer of 1992 kind of romance. And it kind of makes my heart melt to see it happen all over again in 2010. Maybe I'm not so darn old fashioned after all.

And She Grinchily Complained...

After all the talk of the impending snowstorm headed our way yesterday, I made a conscious decision to get snowed in at my sister's house. (Side note: This is Wisconsin. Wind does not constitute "snowstorm.") Anyway, I couldn't think of a better way to spend my Saturday night than to get my cozy pajamas on, read some books, and drink hot chocolate with my little peanut niece. It was also prime time for watching some classic Christmas specials. Frosty the Snowman was actually being aired last night so we started with that. However, Little Miss wasn't all that impressed with the jolliness of a gigantic snowman who never seems to know what day it is. Finally, she said, "Ginch?"

Luckily, my handy dandy interpreter (aka mother of said child) was present and said, "You want to watch The Grinch?"

I don't know who was more excited, my niece or me. "YES!" we both squealed simultaneously.

And here's where I get to speak passionately for a brief moment about yet another wonderful message conveyed by Dr. Suess. We don't need toys or decorations to feel the spirit of Christmas. We just need one another to feel the spirit in our hearts! Awwww!

But before we got to that squishy, melty point in the story, my sister and I had a lot of difficulty losing ourselves in the show, instead grinchily (did you know they actually use that word as an adjective in the story?) pointing out how the laws of physics would not allow for 90% of this story to take place.

I mean, it really gets out of hand when the sleigh, packed full of stolen Who toys is about to slide down the edge of a treacherous mountain peak. But first, it dangles there, balancing for a bit due to the...sturdy body of a two-pound canine? Really? This, of course, after the tiny wiener dog just pulled a 500 pound load of toys up the mountain to begin with.

My sister, who had been in and out of the living room throughout the whole show, heard me laugh and then said, "But you know what part really gets me? When the Grinch takes the antlers and fastens it on the dog's head with one tiny piece of thread. Thread? I mean, did you see the size of those antlers. Come on!"

Then in the next breath: "Of course, I apparently can get over the fact that there is a green man running around town with no pants but this...this thread/antler issue, I just can't get over."

We laughed as she plopped down in the recliner across from me. And then she said, "But don't you just wish you could be a kid again and just get lost in the story?"

I agreed and sighed. But then the Grinch's heart suddenly swelled, the Whos began to sing, and I watched my niece's big blue eyes widen as she got lost in it all.

And suddenly, so did I.

WAIT! I mean, can you?

I smiled as I was reading this because it was confirming some of my suspicions about the not so nice effects of one's addiction to his/her phone/laptop/disruptive device of the day. And just as I was feeling a bit haughty, I then realized I was skimming the article.

So much for that patience I thought I was started to acquire...

Just a Reminder

I try to remember to do this every day. Maybe you can, too?

The Smell of Success

So after the feast and some goofy play time with my fam over the Thanksgiving holiday, I got to enjoy some quiet alone time later in the weekend. Everyone was gone doing this or that and I found myself staring at the family piano, wondering when on earth I had last played. Months? Years? It was sort of tragic considering that when I was in high school, I came home every day and banged on that piano. And with all of my moving around the past few years, I had lost my two favorite piano books somewhere along the way. Or so I thought.

Even though I had rummaged through my mother’s piles of music a hundred times in search of my beloved books, I gave it one more shot and suddenly, there they were, staring at me from inside the piano bench! One was from high school, the same John Thompson book that my two older sisters had also learned from. Tattered pages, binding shot, cover completely absent, notes from our piano teacher scrawled in three different colors of ink for each of us...it was perfect.

I couldn’t believe how giddy I felt upon recovering this music. I mean, I actually squealed. And then I sat down and played. Beethoven. Bach. Mozart. And my Chopin! It wasn’t pretty. Oh God, it wasn’t. But to pound out Beethoven’s first movement of Sonata Pathetique (okay, maybe not quite all of that first page, I never did completely master that one), to feel my fingers run through Bach's sonatina, I felt overwhelmingly happy. And I was amazed how after a few goes at each song, I was almost back at my standard level. Like riding a bike....

There’s something to be said for feeling a sense of productivity. I’m quite certain this is why cooking and baking became a more serious hobby for me in recent years. As a social worker, I rarely saw the results of my hard work. I certainly hoped that my actions were leading to the long-term safety of a child or the formation of a new family unit but how was I really to know? But I certainly knew that if I threw flour, eggs, butter, and sugar together, something delicious would come of it. And there’s something pretty spectacular about mastering a goal like getting all the timing of Etude in E Minor right. I'm not quite there yet but it's coming. I can smell it. Sort of like that cake in the oven.

Ahhh, success.

Not Quite a Balanced Meal But...

The last few weeks have been a bit crazy to say the least. Overall, it's been good stuff but running around like a chicken (or turkey?) with its head cut off can catch up to you. In fact, it’s part of the reason I threw my laptop to the wayside and swore off most technology for a week.

And then there was Thanksgiving.

I’m not sure when I was last in the north woods of Wisconsin with my family for Thanksgiving. New York and Spain sort of got in the way. And I definitely have no idea when my oldest sister and I managed to be there at the same time. But this year, the whole fam, including significant others and a peanut of a niece were present for the feast. As we prepared, I happily set the table and couldn’t help but smile when I arranged my niece’s place setting. (By the way, check out the missing roll. Someone just couldn’t wait.) My mom thought it was important for Autumn to eat off of the good china like the rest of us, considering that Little Miss is quite insistent these days that she is a “big girl." However, her tiny spoon and fork and the farm animal plastic cup alongside the china quickly reminded me that despite her “big girl” status, she is barely out of toddlerhood. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness, considering all of the times she has wanted me to play in recent months and I’ve been unable to due to a ringing cell phone or an expectant email sitting in my inbox.

Damn technology.

Well, okay, not really. I love the fact that it makes my life easier in so many ways. I’m glad that I can easily shoot off an email or a text to quickly communicate my need/desire/question/answer. But I also know that next year, the tiny spoon and fork will most likely be gone. So I happily threw my phone into my purse and did not look at it for a full ten hours. Instead, I sat down for a wonderful feast with my family, played Go Fish, ate some more, and played a little harder. Now today it’s back to work and I’m happy to do it. Who knew that a day of gluttony could lead one to feel so balanced?

ppp;

Since I've returned to Wisconsin and have had ample opportunity to hang out with family, I've been highly involved in the toilet training process of my now three-year-old niece. It really does take a village. We encouraged, we enticed, we begged, we bribed, we cheered, we even performed the occasional happy dance. And after a lot of (literal) hand holding and sprinting to the bathroom upon hearing the phrase, "I go pee now!" I think we may have actually gotten to the point of (dare I even say it?) success.

Funny, then, upon visiting a friend, I have found myself in the throes of potty training again. However, this time, our trainee is a six-week-old kitten. Separated from his mother too early, he wasn't able to learn from her how to use a litter box. Now my friend is trying to figure out how in the world to teach this little puffball to tinkle in the litter pan and not on her bedroom carpet. We spent last night, repeatedly putting him in his litter box and hoping something would click.

"He hasn't gone all day," my friend said, gently grabbing him as he scampered out of the box and placing him back in.

But there's only so many times you can put a highly energized kitten into a litter box only to watch him pop out as if on a miniature spring. Despite our best, "PEE IN THE BOX!" mental messages, the little guy was way more interested in playing than taking the time to pee. Hmm, sounded like a certain three-year-old I know.

A short while later as I was washing my face in the bathroom, I heard my friend shriek, "Not the curtains!"

Her beautiful, billowy drapes which just grace the floor now had a pee soaked oval on them. She sunk to the floor with her new best friend, Resolve, and went to work for the umpteenth time.

Both cat people, we discussed other possible training methods and finally developed a new plan which entails keeping him in the bathroom all day (for some reason, cats tend not to soil tile or linoleum, saving their pee and puke for your oriental rug instead) with a very shallow litter pan. Limited space can only mean a higher likelihood of success, right?

However, if any of you cat people have great ideas for a gal and her incontinent fuzzball, we'd welcome the advice. Okay, it's time for me to put him in the box again. If I can help teach a strong-willed three-year-old, I can certainly do my part with a half pound fuzzball...right?

Oh, and by the way, that title? Yeah, his doing. Apparently we all have P on the brain.

TIME, TIME!!

It's probably already rather evident but I can get the teensiest bit obsessed with the allotment of my time. In fact, this song has been running through my head lately for no reason except for the "Time! Time!" bit (as if I don't already have the reminder in my head to watch the clock and get AS MUCH DONE AS POSSIBLE in one day). I can't help it. I've never understood the phrases, "I'm bored" or "I don't know what to do with myself." There's always about 382 things I want to do at any given moment.

Because of this, I tend to cram in a whole lot into a tiny amount of time. I mean, did I really just make a plan to visit three different cities in one week's time? Come on, I'm not backpacking through Europe anymore! And of course, now in preparation for these trips, I'm got 600 more things added to my "to do" list. And don't even remind me that Thanksgiving is around the corner.

(Sigh)

So it's no surprise that I haven't been a very good friend lately. I've been rather in my head, trying to sort out a whole lot of stuff. Definitely not as present as I'd like to be. But yesterday, I was thrown back into reality. A dear friend of mine was having a really awful day. Already riled up with work related stress, things snowballed when she began to feel physically ill and by the end of the day, she was in hysterics. Although I hate to hear anyone I love so upset, I was so glad that she had reached out and called me. Not only was I happy to hear her out but her tears also helped ground me. Suddenly, travel plans really weren't so important. What was important was that I made myself available to her. Right then, in that moment. I was present.

So I listened. I agreed with the unfairness of her work situation. I listened to her cry and I let her know that I would be there for her the next day, too, if she needed it. So here we are the next day with a plan for yoga this evening and burgers, fries, and chocolate malts to follow. (What the hell? Sometimes a gal has to let it all go.)

And suddenly, my time feels much more valuable. You know, like those cow bell ringing Chamber Brothers said.

Now the time has come. There are things to realize. Time has come today. Time has come today....TIME! TIME!

For the Sake of My Physical Well-Being, Please Vote

Someone recently asked me if I was campaigning for any of the political candidates this year. My immediate reaction was, Are you kidding me? Aren't there enough people doing that?

'Tis the season for Americans to be slammed with a litany of ads everywhere they turn. Even if you turn off the TV and the radio, those faces will make their way into your mailbox. They might even knock right into you on the street. I hadn't realized how bad the phone campaign had gotten until a recent dinner with my parents at their place. A relatively calm household otherwise, our conversation was interrupted every five minutes by the phone. They knew best to ignore the incessant ringing the best they could. (After close inspection, it appears as though their phone ringer cannot be completely turned off. What a shame.) But after a while, we could only stare at one another, all thinking the same thing. After the 40th phone call, does that campaigner on the other end really think our enraged state will allow us to to hear anything they say, no matter how calm and rational it may be?

I was thinking about all of this last night while I was running on the treadmill. I was ticked off for my parents who haven't been able to enjoy a peaceful night in weeks but of course, I was even more concerned about the outcome of these elections. With a pretty even split of liberals and conservatives, you never know how Wisconsin is going to go. One of my sisters, who lives out of state, recently exclaimed to me on the phone, "But at least you're back in Wisconsin! It needs your vote!"

True. And as I Wanna Be Sedated came up on my Ipod which seemed so appropriate for the way I wanted to spend the next twenty-four hours (hopefully not the next two years), I got so revved up that I accidentally began to run too fast, leading me to trip on the frame of the treadmill and nearly fly off the damn thing. As I caught my breath and tried to keep my political panic in check, I reminded myself that in twenty, twenty, twenty-four hours from that moment, we'd at least be done wondering and could start preparing for changes.

So I'm off to the polls soon to take some action. I don't wear enough stickers these days anyway. Besides I'm really looking forward to a peaceful dinner at my Mom and Dad's. Phone, be still. My mother's apple pie alone deserves full attention.

The Almighty "L" Word

I feel so lucky that I am now in a position where I get to see my three-year-old niece on a regular basis. Not only is the kid hilarious, she's extremely kind and generous for a little tyke, especially considering that she has no siblings to contend with. I'm also amazed that she can run away from me, screaming "MEAN RACHAEL!" one minute (you know, for not allowing her to play with knives) to wanting to share her cookie with me the next. Oh, a day in the life of a three-year-old.

Never a snugly baby, my niece now sometimes has the impulse to cuddle up with a family member but it's still few and far between. She's just too darn busy to stop and be affectionate! Therefore, you can imagine my surprise when out of nowhere the other day, sugar sweetness came dripping out of her mouth.

Recently, she walked in on me practicing some yoga and has been intrigued ever since. (Her favorite pose is three-legged dog.) Anyway, considering my ongoing stiffness, I’m constantly dropping to the floor to twist and stretch and if she’s around, she often feels compelled to join in. I always try to teach her something new so the other day, I decided to teach her my favorite pose, pigeon.

So there I was, halfway into the pose while trying to maneuver her tiny limbs into the same formation. I finally got her legs into some variation of the pose and then proceeded to demonstrate how to lean forward and press one’s forehead to the floor. As I peeked over to see if she got it, her round little face lifted from the carpet and from behind a few blond curls dangling in her face, she chose this time to say, “I love you.”

Now, the closest I’ve gotten to this was a few weeks ago when in the midst of some auntie/niece Bugs Bunny viewing pleasure, she said, “I like Rachael.” That in itself made my heart flutter. So you can imagine the lump that formed in my throat, right in the middle of pigeon pose, hearing the much more important “L” word.

“I love you, too, honey,” I said, feeling my body relax even further into the pose. And then just like that, she sprung up and decided to see what her momma was up to. And I stretched out even further onto the floor as if I was turning into a puddle, my heart melting faster than anything else.

Working From Home Really Isn't So Bad

Yep, sometimes I'm really, really grateful that I don't have to leave the house on a regular basis for work. I mean, a "wind warning"? Well, I guess I'll get cozy and be all Little House on the Prairie like. Just gotta chop some wood and churn some butter first.

Woot, Woot!

Round one completed. Thanks to everyone who voted!

Feelings Subject to Change Come January

Coffee? Check. Afghan to wrap up in? Check. Seat near window? Check. Now relax, sip, and smile.

I think I may have already missed the first official frost in my area of Wisconsin but today, I'm actually witnessing it for myself. As I stumbled out of bed in the dark and made my way, half blind, to the coffee maker, I glimpsed out the window to see the grass looking a bit more muted than usual. For the first time in my life, the sight of that first blanket of frost actually resulted in a little squeal.

I know. Crazy, right?

Maybe it's due to the plague of bugs (mosquitoes to flies to some sort of exotic looking beetles) we've had for a steady three months or maybe it's because I love wearing tights with skirts but something tells me that my excitement is more about the fact that I'm ringing in a new season back home.

But let me be clear: I do detest winter in Wisconsin. It's actually part of the reason I left three years ago. I felt like I was turning into some cranky 80-year-old who regularly cursed that nature need not be so cruel. But yet here I am, back in the very state that will soon make me scrape, shovel, and fall on my keister an ungodly amount of times And I'm looking forward to this?

In some crazy way, yes.

I guess it's because this year, I get to finally see my niece dress up for Halloween, in a Care Bear costume no less! Also, after six or seven years away, I will spend Thanksgiving with my family again. And Christmas this year means not relying on a plane that is likely to either sit at JFK for hours on end or get rescheduled altogether, leading me to panic about whether I will enjoy any part of Christmas with the fam at all.

Plus, it's just so darn pretty and still outside right now.

Of course, there are other sacrifices I will have to make. No Christmas tree at Rockefeller plaza. No joining in on the hustle and bustle of shopping on Broadway. No meeting up with my awesome Brooklyn posse at some cozy little French bistro for wine and laughter.

But to me, new seasons mean being grateful for the last and embracing what's ahead, no matter how challenging it may be. And like the frost, there always seems to be some beauty along the way.

Maybe I Should Sing This First Thing in the Morning?

As if Sesame Street doesn't already warm your heart, how about finding out that one of the writers composed this song for his daughter?

Go Gina! Go Gina!

You all remember my obsession with this awesome non-profit, right? Utilizing ingredients from local gardens? Holding classes for kids as well as the elderly on how to cook healthy meals? Oh, and reminding people that food served at shelters doesn't have to come in canned or powdered form?

Yeah, Gina Keatley is a bit of a hero of mine and now I can vote for her and her awesome organization, the Nourishing Kitchen of NYC in the Classy Awards, the Academy Awards of the charity world. Yep, she's a candidate for Volunteer of the Year and her organization is up for Charity of the Year. If she wins, these awards could bring in up to $35,000 to the Nourishing Kitchen! Can you imagine all the additional amazing things this lady could do with a bit more in her pockets??

And if I can't convince you to vote for Gina and her amazing non-profit, please consider just getting on the site and voting. Charity is charity. And we all could use a little love, am I right?

Who Knew?

Maybe it's a bit strange but my heart did a little flip flop when I came into the house last night and came upon this pile of shoes. I was well on my way to a cozy autumn evening with family, post pumpkin patch fun. Pizza and apples. Giggling from the other room. The humming of the dishwasher. Those shoes that were frantically kicked off to continue the fun. Somehow the simplicity of it all made me crazy happy.

Aiding the Farms

"All right'" my friend said as she set her beer down on the bar, taking a deep breath. "It's time to go to 'The Aid.'"

That would be Farm Aid. If you were a Midwestern kid in the 80s, you definitely knew all about Farm Aid. Willie Nelson and John Cougar (when he still added the Mellencamp)? Sure, it was a little dorky but we loved that our farmers were getting any attention at all. In fact, that's about the last time I heard much sympathy for those who feed us.

Anyway, my friend scored a few free tickets to this year's show so off we went to Miller Park the other night to rock out. Okay, so Jason Mraz isn't quite someone to rock out to but Norah Jones killed and John Cougar made me smile. (I will continue to pass on Neil Young. Sorry.) And Willie came out repeatedly to sing with each performer so when half of the group came out after Neil's set and bid us goodnight, we hightailed it out of there and hopped back onto our little shuttle bus.

But apparently we were a bit too quick.

The next day, we heard that we missed the finale with my favorite Mr. Lips (no, not Mick), Steven Tyler. Oh well. I'm not too broken up about it. I was just glad to throw some dollars into the Farm Aid donation box while continuing to feel good about going to my local farmer's market on a weekly basis.

But who am I kidding? Steven Tyler would have been cool.

Okay, Wisconsin, I love you BUT....

....this is getting a little out of hand, don't you think?

Healthy Cupcakes? What??

Okay, maybe not healthy but definitely healthier. I was so excited to come across this article because it lists recipes that don't include a ridiculous number of ingredients you've never even heard of. I mean, this is stuff you're likely to already have in your cupboards. Applesauce? Sure. Black beans? Yep.

Now my dilemma is which do I make first? The chocolate espresso or the pumpkin? Or pumpkin espresso? Spicy with a little kick in the pants? Sounds good to me.

Eating My Way Through the Peninsula

The other day, I convinced a couple of my aunties along with my mom and one of my sisters to spend the day in Door County with me. It had been at least a decade since my last visit and with the smell of autumn in the air, it seemed like perfect timing. For you non-Wisconsinites, Door County is basically the thumb of our cute little mitten state filled with all sorts of darling shops, quaint B&B's, and a whole lot of Chicago folk we are trying our best to send back home.

I wanted to relive old childhood memories so I suggested beginning the day with a good ole' Swedish breakfast of paper thin pancakes at Al Johnson's in Sister Bay. Plus, who doesn't want to see goats on the roof of your eating establishment? This was followed by some boutique shopping which then led to the good kind of shopping: the purchasing of baked goods. My aunt convinced us to go to this Seaquist place up the road and it was indeed amazing. As one gentleman patiently cut up a variety of apples for customers to try (I'm still a fan of the Honeycrisp and the Golden Ginger), our little group purchased a stockpile of cherry pies and apple cider doughnuts. God forbid there be a shortage of pie in anyone's house this fall.

A few hours later, we found ourselves in Ephraim and well, we just had to stop at Wilson's for some old-fashioned ice cream. Although I was quite certain I wasn't hungry, I still found myself licking off of everyone else's cones. Butter pecan? Sneakers? Cherry chocolate? Yes, yes, and yes! And I was ever so pleased to find that they still put a jelly bean at the bottom of their cones at Wilson's. Aww, thanks for the memories.

Then we were off to Fish Creek where we hit a few more shops and downed some coffee as the sun went down. Although we had enjoyed a perfect, sunny fall day, the setting sun along with the chill of the lake urged us to get in the car and head home.

By the time we reached Green Bay, the ice cream and pancakes had completely worn off and someone mentioned burgers. Now, I'm not much of a meat eater anymore but I can't tell you how much I crave a burger now and then. Since we were in Green Bay, there really was no discussion as to where we would go for dinner. I soon found myself driving to Kroll's across from Lambeau Field where we indulged in butter burgers and fried cheese curd. (Had we not had ice cream just a few hours before, I'm certain there would have been accompanying chocolate malts. But apparently even we have our limits)

By the time we got home that night, I had done a mental calculation of everything I had ingested and realized that it was time for some sort of cleansing tea. I also realized I could never, ever, EVER be vegan. Butter? Cheese? And ice cream? Who am I to return to the Dairy State and not partake? I would never be so insulting. Nah, I'd much rather celebrate you, Wisconsin. I raise my curd to you. Cheers!

The Times They Are A-Changin'

Not fast enough for many. But it's a step. Finally.

But why, oh why, can't I still be twenty-five? (If I had a dime for every time...)

Praying for a Frost

I know I was complaining about the mosquitoes not long ago but it bears repeating, especially since it's now officially FALL. The mosquito epidemic has been running rampant throughout Wisconsin all summer but come Labor Day, most of the state seemed to be in the clear. However, the area in which I live is where the last of them are congregating for a series of final pre-frost parties.

Never in all of my years in Wisconsin have I seen such a plague. I recently visited a neighbor and upon my arrival, she yelled at me to run to the door, lest I be attacked. I was barely inside her house when she slammed the door behind me. I think we were both panting.

"It's like a zombie movie!" she complained. "Just when you think it might safe outside at high noon or whatever, you finally creep outside and then wham! They come out of nowhere for the kill."

She's right, too. Not only are these things zombie-like in their attack methods but they have seem to have mutated, now carrying super strength abilities to bite through clothing. I kid you not. The other day I was outside for five minutes in a jeans and hoodie (because that's how chilly it now is for God's sake) and in that short time, I ended up with multiple bites all over my body. What? These things can now pierce denim?!

And to make things worse, it is now fly season. Yes, those darn houseflies which usually replace the mosquitoes have now come to terrorize us alongside their blood sucking friends.

"Oh, great. Now we are on to the Amityville Horror stage," a friend complained as we drove up his driveway, only to find his house covered with flies.

So for the first time in my life, I have started to pray for frost. Yes, me. The girl who can never get enough summer. I mean, what's the point of summer if you can't get out and enjoy it?

I'm not the only one, hoping for a night of dipping temperatures. The other day, my Amityville house owning friend said to me in a nearly delirious state, "We were only five degrees from freezing the last night. Why? Oh, God, why can't we just get a frost?" And then he proceeded to pummel mosquitoes on his living room wall.

All of this coming from people who will have a good six months of freezing temperatures ahead of them. We may be generally tolerant of the elements but this is simply getting to be too much, even for us. Help! (Of course, that really means, Send cookies!)

Your Housebound Correspondent,
Rachael

Slowwwww Down

Even though I did slow down enough to enjoy some tacos and the newspaper the other day, kicking it into high gear the next few days really did not help in my quest for balanced living. Friday morning, I woke up feeling kind of junky but I had all sorts of work to do so I pushed through the day, not stopping until 9pm. I reasoned that since most of my work was sedentary, it didn't really count. I'm used to my home visiting and nannying days when I was running around a good eight hours of the day. But as many of you probably already know, enough hours of sitting hunched over a laptop, employing all sorts of brain power will catch up.

This, I discovered, yesterday morning when I woke up with what felt like the worst hangover in my life. Pounding sinus pressure, a rocking stomach, chills, and complete disbelief that I had already slept for ten hours. Surely, it had only been fifteen minutes. I pried myself out of bed, the intensity of my headache increasing with every inch of elevation, put something in my tummy, and headed straight back to bed to sleep another four hours. In total yesterday, I managed a shower, a call to my sister, and a bit of email correspondence. Then, completely wiped out, I hightailed it back to bed.

And even though I knew I needed a very chill day, I found myself complaining to a friend that I hadn't "accomplished anything." Why is it that unless we are productive in the traditional sense (i.e. crossing things off of our "to do" lists, cleaning out the closet, responding to those work emails), it doesn't seem to count? Why couldn't I give myself credit for accomplishing a little self-care?

Because that's not really how American society operates. We go to work sick even though it means we will prolong our illnesses by days or weeks while infecting the whole office. We push through to meet personal obligations even when we are completely worn out and have no desire to do them. We tend to be impressed by the level of work produced by others and wonder what we can do to be more like that. So we power through the day by ingesting way too much caffeine, then wonder why we can't sleep at night, only to start the another day, feeling groggy, stressed, and unhealthy.

Ugh. Really?

Yes, in my opinion, really. Spending time overseas has made this more apparent, not only through my own observations but because I continually heard from Europeans, "You Americans are crazy with your work" or "I thought about moving to the U.S. but then I found out how you hardly have any vacation time."

Of course, I always argued that a lot of us don't have a choice. We have to deal with the fact that we only have two weeks of vacation a year and that we have limited sick days. Yet, that doesn't always mean we need to agree to another committee or another Girl Scout outing. And if we can't teach ourselves to slow down, our bodies will certainly do it for us. That's for certain. More Sudafed, please.

Stop, Plop, and Breathe

Ever have one of those days when you say,"Wow, I really cannot be spending any money at all right now" and then you end up playing the Let's See How Many Times I Can Possibly Use My Credit Card In One Day game?

Yep, that was me yesterday. I wasn't too happy. It's not like I said, "Screw it! I deserve a new dress!" and then ran to the mall to commence some sort of wild shopping spree. No, it went more like this:

"Wait...how much to clean up my laptop?"

"Oh, crap...I need gas again. Already?"

"113.84, please."

I was doing my best to calm myself down with my It's only money, I have my health mantra running through my head. But on top of the stress of finances, I was a feeling just a little bit wound up about all the work I had to complete and couldn't seem to get to. My plan had been to run a few errands in the morning, then spend the rest of the day at home working. But when the geeky seventeen-year-old behind the counter said, "Yeah, this shouldn't take more than a couple of hours to clean up your laptop," I tried not to freak out. I was not expecting a two hour time lapse. What was I going to do for the next few hours when all I really needed to do involved that precious piece of technology?

Plus, I was far enough from home that going back to clean the house or something really wasn't an option. I certainly did not have the money to treat myself to a leisurely, wine soaked lunch under the sun so I tried to do a bit of window shopping instead. However, I was having some trouble not thinking about this PRECIOUS TIME WASTED and how I was ONLY GETTING FURTHER BEHIND WITH EVERYTHING ELSE I NEEDED TO DO.

The fingers started tapping. The humming commenced. (Why I do this when I'm nervous, I'll never know. I also do it when I'm happy.) As an individual who is never bored and always has a mile long "to do" list, I realized at that moment, I had no idea what to do with myself. After wandering around aimlessly for a while, I plopped down in my car and just sat there for a few moments, trying to think. What else could I possibly accomplish right now?

Then suddenly, I thought about my old field work supervisor from my grad school days. While interning in a hospital psych unit, he had taught me how to facilitate group therapy. A lot of our clients had anxiety issues and I remember him once saying during a group session, "You know, sometimes it's just about how we look at things. Traffic can be really stressful. The honking, the yelling, the waiting. I used to hate it, too. But now, after a busy day, I'm more than happy to have to sit at a red light. Finally, I can just do nothing but breathe for a moment."

Throughout the past ten years, this piece of wisdom has entered my brain on many occasions and it caught up with me while sitting in the driver's seat yesterday. I sat there and breathed for a minute, then realizing that in my tizzy, I had been ignoring body's basic needs. My stomach growling, I then decided that although I didn't need a huge French dinner, I certainly could use a little sustenance to keep me going. So I treated myself to a simple but leisurely lunch while I read the paper, reminding myself that I could easily catch up on all that work tomorrow. And you know what? I sure enjoyed those tacos.

Yah, Junior Cooks!

Okay, you all know about my crush on the Nourishing Kitchen of NYC. But I ask you, how can my feelings possibly dissipate when they keep doing such awesome things?

For example, take the Junior Chef Cookbook that they recently released online. This cookbook not only includes an assortment of wonderful, simple recipes, it also includes some really helpful, core nutrition information. For example, what is the food pyramid? What does organic really mean? And what is an appropriate serving size?

Now I realize this is geared toward kids but I've got to admit, I appreciate being refreshed on the definition of a calorie. Plus, I am definitely going to try out some of their recipes, especially that black bean brownie one. My most recent attempt at low-fat brownies was a serious flop, only made edible after a "healthy" slathering of chocolate frosting.

Anyway, I plan on printing this and giving a copy to my niece who adores cooking and baking. Perhaps we'll make those brownies together. I have a feeling that even though they won't be as sugary or rich as the usual ones, there will still be a race to lick the bowl.

Not a Bad Way to Start the Day

A little while ago, my alarm clock began its incessant buzzing and I eventually managed to pry myself out of my warm, cozy bed to start the day. I went to the window, drew back the curtains, and sucked in my breath when hit with this view. I mean, if this is any preview of what my autumn days are going to be like, I'm totally, 100% up for it.

And as I stared at that warm light, my brain decided to hold a mini mental session of all that's good in my life right now. I read somewhere a few years back that it's helpful to sit down at the end of every day and write down three things for which you are grateful. This could be your mate or a helpful coworker but it could also be related to things you have accomplished like those five extra minutes on the treadmill. Or the supportive shoulder you were able to lend a friend. Or the clean water that is accessible to you on a daily basis. Or maybe you just need to give yourself credit for the expected and mundane because oftentimes, these are the most challenging. For example, maybe tonight I will be grateful that I got an article in on deadline (ahem). Being appreciative of every day accomplishments does wonders for the psyche.

But if I had been journaling Monday night, it would not have been about the ordinary. (This is what went through my mind in front of the window this morning.) Instead, I would have made a list of what made my three day weekend so amazing. Things like:

- Reconnected with fantastic, inspiring old friends.
- Met more wonderful people, establishing new, exciting friendships.
- Set relaxed pace and fully enjoyed my time rather than rushing around trying to see each and every single friend of mine.
- Took in more of Wisconsin and felt a true appreciation for all it has to offer.
- Managed to avoid Alterra when laptop stealing gunman chose to visit. (Okay, I probably shouldn't joke about that one.)

And as always:
- I'm healthy, loved, and loving.

Hmm, maybe it's okay to start the day with all you are grateful for, too.

Not Just in Harlem...

More good news!

Similar to the Nourishing Kitchen of NYC, some organizations in Madison have teamed up and are harvesting local gardens and donating to local pantries. Wouldn't it be wonderful if hungry people could have as much access to beautiful, fresh produce as they did to canned beans? Seems that the times really are a-changin'...

Eating From the Backyard

A friend of mine from Madison recently sent me a copy of the Sustainable Times which was full of all sorts of environmentally friendly Wisconsin resources. While paging through it, I noticed an ad for the Willy Street Co-op's Eat Local Challenge. For one month, people are encouraged to pony up and eat as locally as possible.

In a nutshell, from Megan Blodgett's entry, "Are You Up for the Eat Local Challenge?" from the Willy Street Co-op website:

We’ll include as many challenge takers as possible by providing several different levels of challenge to choose from, from Hard-Core Locavore (everything you eat is grown locally), to Toe in the Water Locavore (at least one ingredient in each of your meals is either grown or produced locally). That way, you can have local tomatoes and your Gail Ambrosius chocolates, too. If you don’t want to choose one of our levels, you can make it up yourself and be a Choose Your Own Adventure Locavore.

Participants will get a packet with information about where to find local foods, coupons for local products, recipes and menu ideas, a food diary to record their meals and their thoughts, and access to online networking with other challenge-takers. We’ll also be hosting events throughout the month, including a celebration potluck at the end where participants will have the opportunity to share their favorite recipes and experiences. Not only will this Eat Local Challenge offer participants a chance to get to know their food, but it will allow us to get to know each other, too.

Obviously, being local and all, this caters to the residents of Madison but don't despair! The co-op's website lists a sample menu and recipes, too. For someone like me who has never taken on such a challenge, this kind of guide is darn near necessary. And as I did a little more research on the matter, I see that these challenges are taking place all over the country. Check out these sites for more guidance.

Now I must admit, this is pretty horrible timing for me to take on such a challenge so I doubt that I will sign on the dotted line for anything at the moment. However, I do plan on taking some time to look at these recipes while continuing to utilize the local farmer's market as much as possible. In fact, today's Tuesday, isn't it? Perhaps I should get out of my pajamas and think about buying some tomatoes. Judging by the weather, I won't be doing that for much longer. But that's okay. I sure do love butternut squash.

LAME!!

Come on, California! I had so much hope for you!!

Washington? Oregon? Pretty please? The Midwest needs you to get the ball rolling...

Coffee, Café, Kaffee, Coffee, Café, Kaffee...

I have been saying "coffee" in three languages in my head like some sort of weirdo chant because apparently, I HAVE HAD TOO MUCH OF IT AND IT'S PRACTICALLY ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT!

Wow. Sorry about that.

It's just so odd. Usually, I can drink a pot of the stuff with little to no effects but today after just a few cups this morning and one leftover mug of sludge this afternoon, I'm zinging all over the place. It's been GREAT (!) for my writing but now I'm thinking I might actually need to go for a run so I don't scare my family with my incessant babbling when we meet up for dinner later. (And people, I hate to run).

Since I've gone wayyyy past the point of any sort of adult level of concentration and am instead heading straight to the land of jitters and involuntary leg twitches, I thought perhaps it would be good to revisit the idea of tea. I like tea but I don't drink much of it. But since my mind is on some sort of race track (the internet is really, really bad for me at this moment), it suddenly occurred to me that I've been meaning to research Tulsi tea. Well, according to www.learn-about-tea.com, it is known among many other things "to promote wellness by building the body’s immune system, reducing stress and promoting mental clarity." Hey, I could use some of that!

I guess it shouldn't surprise me with all of its stress reducing properties that it's caffeine free. I am tempted to incorporate a huge frownie into this sentence just to clearly illustrate my feelings about warm beverages that dare to rid themselves of caffeine. I mean, why were mochas even invented? Because hot chocolates are for kids who get to sleep any time they want, that's why!

Anyway, due to my non-stop finger tapping, I was about to concede and order myself some of this mentally clarifying, non-caffeinated exilir that will banish all problems from my life. However, I'm not a fan of buying something online when I'm sure a store in the vicinity is carrying it. But I can't find any links to any tea shops or health food stores that carry it. (Then again, my "research" has lasted a whole three minutes. Did I mention my attention span is a bit limited at the moment?)

So anyway, I'm wondering if anyone out there has tried the grand, life altering Tulsi Tea (also known as "Holy Basil"). If so, please let me know. Thank you!

ZING!

How About Oatmeal This Morning?

The recent salmonella debacle is disgusting, no doubt, but even more so? The litany of offenses committed throughout the years by Jack DeCoster , the owner of Wright County Egg. (Mr. DeCoster is one of the largest egg producers in the country. Beware). Animal abuse, environmental offenses, and sexual assault of workers? It's kind of amazing that someone has the ability to lead operations to such despicable levels.

A friend of mine did more research on DeCoster and came up with a list of his brands which should be avoided. I thought I'd pass the information on: Lucerne, Albertson, Mountain Dairy, Ralph's, Boomsma's, Sunshine, Hillandale, Trafficanda, Farm Fresh, Shoreland, Lund, Dutch Farms, and Kemps.

Of course, when looking at this list, the question then becomes, who do I buy from? Although many of us believe that buying "cage-free" or "free-range" is the answer, it clearly isn't. The Humane Society has included a wonderful guide on their site to help decode all of the egg jargon. It seems to me that "Certified Organic" and "Animal Welfare Approved" are the labels you'd most want to see. However, as you can tell, there are problems with this, too. It makes sense, then that more and more people are adopting a vegan lifestyle which I applaud. Although I don't think I could go that extreme, I'm quite open to using half a banana instead of an egg the next time I make a cake. (Until this very moment, I had no idea that this was possible. Hooray for animal free options!)

However, I am not going to lie. I've tried a few tofu scramblers and although yummy in their own way, I do not think they compare at all to the taste of fresh eggs. And overall, if the hens (hormone and antibiotic free, of course) are raised in proper conditions with plenty of space and fresh air and a proper diet, I don't have a problem with raising them for the sake of laying eggs. Maybe this has something to do with the fact that as a kid, my sisters and I assisted our parents in raising chickens. In my opinion, the key is that it is done humanely and locally.

So where does a consumer begin? Check it out! Of course, if you want to ensure that hens are being raised humanely, the best option is to actually visit the farm you'd like to patronize and check out the conditions yourself. This may seem impossible to many but look at the resources now available to us. And in general, remember that although a small, local farm doesn't mean immunity to disgraceful tactics, it does most certainly mean a decrease in pollution. Just think about the volume of pollution created by factory farms. Now tack on the exhaust of the big trucks, transporting all of that food your way. (Cough, cough).

Now consider forming a group with neighbors and taking weekend trips (carpooling when possible, of course) to a local farm to stock up on healthy foods. Or maybe you'd rather join a CSA. And if you have children, imagine the wonderful lessons you are promoting by patronizing a local farm or joining a CSA! Not only are you teaching them to think about the origins of their food, you are also showing them how to work toward a common community goal. Also, since fresh farm vegetables are so much tastier than anything canned, they might actually stop fighting you about eating all of their veggies. And finally, in this day and age of rapidly changing technology, it is always nice when people can slow down, remember what's truly important, and thank their local farmer for providing the most basic necessity.

I know life gets crazy. Due to my continual nomadic life, I can't say I'm totally practicing what I preach at the moment. But once I do get settled, I plan to utilize the Local Harvest website and join a CSA. In the meantime, I will continue to patronize my local farmer's market. As for those eggs, I'm having a pretty easy time avoiding them altogether these days. Plus, after you've had the farm fresh kind with those eye popping yellow yolks, going back to the supermarket kind just doesn't cut it.

Oh, and I plan to make some brownies this week. I'll most certainly try that banana trick. Hooray for alternatives!

Here's a Hint: It Could Be Lunch

I was so pleased when New York made this change. (And believe me, you will be quite appalled by the calorie punch of a White Mocha from Starbucks.) But people have a right to know what they are putting into their bodies and at exactly what cost. Now it looks as though providing this information could become a restaurant norm. Hooray!

And if you're still curious about that mocha....

I Meant What I Said and I Said What I Meant

I warned her. I mean, for almost two years, I've been warning my sister. But did she listen? Even though I gave the most faithful advice (100 percent)? No, sirree, she did not.

See, I know a thing or two about kids. I know that from about 18 months until age four, these little beings have the amazing ability to commit the most contradictory acts known to man. Let's take the matter of their attention spans. You present them with the most fantastic set of sticky, glittery, multicolored paints they've ever seen and they will happily immerse themselves in a painting project for approximately 47 seconds before they jump up, announce their sudden displeasure, and run to the next best thing. Yet the shredded, nearly non-existent plastic tampon wrapper they find in your purse will become an object of utter obsession, one that will lead them to grasp tightly in their sweaty little hands, further tear, twist around their fingers, hold up to the light as if a prism, crumple and deposit into an ear, and/or carry around like a new pet for hours and hours on end.

My point is, you never know which way they're going to go.

However, after this very unfortunate experience with a little one I used to care for, I knew that my niece could also very well go down the path of obsession if exposed. So a few months ago when my sister informed me that she had purchased The Sound of Music, I shot her the look of death.

"You...be...careful...with...that," I said, reminding her once again of little Ethan.

"I know, I know," she laughed. "I'm not going to show it to her yet."

Then the other night just as I was wrapping up my babysitting duty, my sister entered the room and said to us, "I have a surprise for you. Actually for both of you."

She led us to the TV and before I knew it, for the first time in her life, my niece was watching the infamous marionette scene while I wondered if this could possibly be the hundredth for me.

And guess what? My little niece sat there, mesmerized. Mouth open. Surprise, surprise. And as soon as it was over?

"Again!" she squealed. I shook my head at my sister and proceeded to bury my head in the couch cushions. When they started a third round, I got up and stomped away. "I'm outta here!"

Yeah, my sister thinks it's fun at the moment. Nostalgic, too. And holy cow, we didn't realize as kids how dashing Christopher Plummer was. Wowee! But she still doesn't realize what she is in for. Luckily, as the auntie that flits in and out, I get to use my whole, "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. Auntie doesn't know how to use this darn DVD thingamajig!" excuse. But my sister? I think even dashing Christopher Plummer might lose his magic. Good luck, sis!

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Last weekend, I went to Home #2, meaning Milwaukee. (And for future reference, Home #3 is Brooklyn). All three homes have the ability to create some pretty major warm fuzzies for me and last weekend was no different. I was able to catch up with several old friends, all of whom told me they were so happy to have me back in Wisconsin which in turn made my heart sorta want to burst. I also felt a great sense of relief knowing that I didn't have to cram all my visiting into a three day block. I could visit again tomorrow if I so desired. Yipee!

In my state of homey bliss, I spent part of Sunday afternoon driving around my old neighborhood haunts. Brady, Prospect, Farwell, Washington, Oakland, past the lakefront. Then I had the urge to drive up Downer Avenue, just a couple of blocks from one of my first apartments. I braced myself for what I already knew (Schwartz has gone out of business!) but I was not at all prepared for the giant structure on the opposite side of the street. No more popcorn cart, that's for sure! There was a bank and some other monstrosity surrounding it. (A parking garage perhaps?) I really didn't want to figure out what it was. I just wanted to get past it as quickly as possible.

So I quickly turned onto Belleview where I was instantaneously tempted to pull over for some custard at Lixx but (gulp), I quickly learned that Lixx was no longer in existence either! Yes, there's something in its place and they may very well still be serving the delicious frozen custard I remember but the fact that it was no longer my Lixx made my heart drop.

So let's get this straight. On this two block stretch, there is no more Coffee Trader (okay, I know it's been years but I have warm memories of that place from my college days, darn it!), no more Chancery (my first date with my sweet college boyfriend), no more Gil's, and no more Schwartz's. Basically, everything I used to walk to in the 90s is now gone.

This got me to thinking of Bill Bryson's book, The Lost Continent. I adore Bryson's writing and this book in particular made me laugh and cry at the same time. After a decade or so in England, he returns home to the Midwest and decides to reacquaint himself with his country through a vast road trip, visiting each of the 50 states. He finds himself grieving about the loss of America (in particular, small town America) which is turning into a stark land of strip malls, gas guzzling automobiles, and parking lots.

I am a lover of most things historical and would be the first one to face off a bulldozer if necessary; however, I also understand our constant evolution and that if Schwartz isn't making it or if the neighborhood deems the parking structure necessary, it might be time to accept those changes. But I guess when you purposely go back to a place for the sake of warm memories, it's hard not to feel offended by the parking garage standing on the site of your first kiss. (No, we didn't kiss in front of the popcorn cart. It's just an example.)

But that's why we have those memories lodged in our brains, isn't it? So we can conjure them up when we need them. So that when we walk into our favorite cozy Alterra and find it in the midst of major construction and expansion, we won't want to cry.

Don't worry, I didn't. Instead, as I gave the cheerful barista my money, I said to myself, "Wow...changes everywhere." And then I sat down with my cup of piping hot, black coffee, slightly taken aback but feeling quite content.

And then I toasted no one in particular: "Onward!"

Gobble, Gobble

So there I was, minding my own business. Yep, I was just sitting there at the kitchen table, working away on my laptop when suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I saw a dark figure outside, lurching toward me. My heart skipped a beat when in that split second, I noticed that there was more than one!

But as I raised my gaze, I realized that these figures weren't three men (very small men) in dark trench coats sauntering down the way to bust in the house and kill me. No, they were actually three big wild turkeys! So I almost killed myself running upstairs to grab my camera and take this picture before they disappeared into the corn. And by the way, I know this isn't any kind of photo to brag about but when I raised the blinds, they sort of started to hightail it. I did my best. Sigh.

I love big cities - I really do - but holy cow, have I missed this stuff!

Here Fishy, Fishy!

Yes, a stable income and a dental plan are great reasons for full-time employment but don't be fooled. There are some awesome advantages to being underemployed and living close to home. Suddenly, I am doing things I've been meaning to do for ages, like trying out new recipes on my parents or making plans to visit Door County again or spending a sunny Thursday afternoon with one of my favorite uncles, drinking beers and shooting an archery course. (Actually, that was reversed. Shooting first, beers later. Don't be alarmed.) And may I please add that I haven't held a bow since high school and I still managed to hit those targets every single time? Who said I wasn't a born and bred Wisconsin girl?

Anyway...

The other thing you get to do when you have such a lifestyle is check out the catfish races at the Greenville Lion's Club 22nd Annual Catfish Extravaganza. (No, I am not making up that name. Look.) European friends, close your mouths right now. And don't worry, you aren't alone. Those New Yorkers and other big city folk are also wondering what the hell I'm talking about. But for all of you who grew up in small town America, or better yet, small town Wisconsin, you're just thinking, Catfish? What about the perch?

All right, maybe that's an exaggeration. This isn't exactly your run of the mill family event in Wisconsin either, I've got to admit. When my sister suggested this as a possible outing, she didn't even let me respond at first. After the initial invitation, she just sighed and said in a defeated tone, "Yeah, I know..." but then went on to say it was a family event that her daughter would probably enjoy. Would I be interested in partaking?

To say that I was hesitant would be a pretty huge understatement. My mouth remained open for a while, too. However, Friday ended up being a lovely day so that evening, we all piled into the car to support the Lion's Club by eating their burgers, cheering my niece down a huge inflatable slide , and later watching the catfish semifinals (we didn't mess around with the preliminary races) which as you can imagine, was over in about 1.5 seconds. But again, this was all going toward charity so who was I to give people crap for placing bets on the ugly, prehistoric looking bottom feeder of their choice? (And I regret to inform that I cannot report which fancy pants catfish won the final round since the burgeoning crowd and nasty mosquitoes drove us off. I hope, dear reader, you are not crushed.)

However, in my opinion, the highlight of the night was when a helicopter appeared out of nowhere and dropped hundreds of ping pong balls for kids to collect and turn in for prizes. It was pretty darn cute to see all of those kids run down a huge, grassy hill to collect their winnings. I think my niece was a bit unnerved by it all but my sister and I couldn't stop laughing. Twenty years ago, did we have any inclination that we'd be spending a Friday night watching catfish races or diving for ping pong balls?

A few years ago, this kind of thing would have driven me mad. I would've been itching to leave by minute twelve. But now, it just made me smile, amused and content. A beautiful summer night, a good cause, a friendly crowd, a niece happier than a clam...if an ugly fish with whiskers can lead to all of that, I'm pretty okay with it.

To My German Friends...

Remember how I went on and on and on about how cheap ice cream was in Berlin (and therefore, had to take advantage of it on a daily basis)? Yeah, I'm telling you, it wasn't all in my mind. Screaming again....

Let Them Eat Well!

About a year ago, I stumbled across an ad, looking for volunteers for the Nourishing Kitchen of NYC. My interest piqued, I did a little research on this non-profit and was blown away by what a young, incredibly ambitious woman had launched in East Harlem. Her idea? To start a soup kitchen of sorts that actually serves healthy food. Forget the highly salted gravy over instant potatoes of yesterday. Not only has Ms. Gina Puzzanghera been serving up delicious, organic meals, she has also been developing programming for people, young and old, inviting them into her kitchen to learn how to cook such healthy meals. I mean, check out her mission statement:

Our mission is to alleviate the strong correlation between low income status and poor dietary health. To do this we provide nutritious meals and educational programming in a safe and caring environment, to anyone who comes seeking nourishment without question and without criticism while providing opportunities for volunteers to give of themselves in service to others. Anyone is welcome regardless of age, sex, race, financial qualifications, or religious beliefs.

Nice.

One of the things that drove me absolutely nutty as a child welfare social worker was hearing my clients rag about the delinquent/hyperactive/fill-in-the-blank-disordered behavior of their child when I would be sitting in their home, watching said child fill up on soda and Cheetos right in front of my eyes. Likewise, I was stunned that during my last physical when I talked about my ongoing fatigue issues, my doc never once questioned my diet. (Hello? Possible food allergy?) Instead, she went straight to a discussion about medication possibilities. Grrr....

I'm not anti-medication by any means but it really amazes me that despite all the recent hype about the food industry, people aren't more concerned about the correlation between food and their physical and psychological health. I remember one (one!) of my former clients who completely revamped her foster child's diet to see how it would affect his "hyperactive" behavior. And ta-da! Amazing how a child that goes from a diet of Skittles and KFC to fruit and baked chicken can actually sit down and do his homework.

Now let's look at the not so warm and fuzzy financial aspect of our nation's less than stellar eating habits. In fact, let's look at those who visit soup kitchens in particular. It's no secret that the poor in America tend to the be the most obese and disease ridden people in our country. Heart disease and diabetes in particular run rampant amongst this group. Now consider what we pay in Medicaid costs to cover such illnesses. Isn't it just common sense to put more time and resources into programs like the Nourishing Kitchen which are trying to create healthier lives and quite frankly, do taxpayers a huge favor in the long run? Anyone else want to scream out loud with me?

Anyway, I'm so very pleased to learn that the Nourishing Kitchen just won a contest, determined by the public's votes, for $25,000! A charity that is socially conscious, health focused, environmentally friendly (did I mention the local gardens they use?), and fiscally responsible?? Oh, NK (do you mind if I call you that?), you are definitely on my top five!

Please, folks, consider volunteering or donating to Ms. Puzzanghera's truly fantastic organization. You can learn more at eatwellnyc.com (look under the "media packet" tab for a really great description of their programming) or at http://thenourishingkitchenofnyc.blogspot.com/.

Happy, healthy eating!

Battle of the Bites

Excuse me, I thought I had returned to summer in Wisconsin, not the rainy season in some bug infested Asian jungle. Yet the swarms of mosquitoes that attack me every time I step outside is making me think that I've indeed stepped into the wrong hemisphere.

Oh, the peace and tranquility of rural Wisconsin. Yes, it makes me want to sit outside on the porch with a book and... Doh! Ack! (slap, slap) Hmpf. I give.

So to you non-natives, let me explain that every summer, Wisconsinites are accustomed to an annoying but relatively short mosquito season. This typically occurs sometime in June, usually when one is trying to throw a graduation party or some other outdoor event to celebrate the fact that we are no longer wearing snow pants. But then the heat of July seems to kill them all (yes, my very scientific reasoning) which allows for two remaining summer months of fun in the sun.

Well, Wisconsin has had record breaking rain the past couple of months which has led to an apparent record breaking number of these miserable, epidermis munching monsters. For the past week, I've tried to play outside with my three-year-old niece only to find myself swatting both of us incessantly and running back inside within ten minutes. She and I seem to have special mosquito lovin' blood since the two inches of skin I miss with the OFF! will be covered with a series of bites (oftentimes symmetrical, how 'bout that?) in about 3.5 seconds. I even tried wearing leggings outside but the darn things managed to penetrate those, too, which has now led to an awesome design of welts amongst the road map of spider veins and bruises throughout my lower half. (I know, I know, très sexy.)

So anyway, now there's the two of us at night, watching Bugs Bunny and scratching our legs til they about bleed. I am clearly not a good example, I realize, as my sister says to her, "Honey, I know it's itchy but try not to scratch" while I sit wallowing in the corner, "When is this misery gonna stop???"

But I am clearly going down a pity partying tangent and that is not my intent. See, I wanted to look into natural mosquito repellents since I am assuming the Cutter's and OFF! we've been dousing ourselves with aren't so good for the ole' environment. I did a quick search and found that mixing an essential oil (such as lemon eucalyptus) with a carrier oil or alcohol is supposed to aid in warding off these little blood sucking demons. As I scanned this article, I assumed they meant rubbing alcohol but interestingly enough, they list vodka as a possibility. Now I'm all about using non-toxic items but I can't help but wonder, if one is in the mosquito infested woods of northern Wisconsin and has a bottle of vodka on him (even if it's Fleischmann's for God's sake), do you really think he's going to use it to coat his limbs?? My guess is that he's much more likely to problem solve another way and allow himself to wake up from his stupor the next morning with a fresh batch of bites while purchasing stock in Calamine.

Regardless, I might give this a shot, perhaps using olive oil as the carrier oil instead. I shall report back. And please, if anyone has had success using non-toxic agents to fight this spawn of Satan, please let me know. In the meantime, I am becoming quite the fan of the screened-in porch. Too bad mosquitoes don't have decent eye sight. I'd like them to see me sticking my tongue out at them.

A Letter of Appreciation

Dear Scandinavian Airlines (SAS), Lufthansa, and FedEx:

I realize you are busy people, coordinating the transportation of thousands of people and things on a daily basis. I do understand that, really. So as much as I detest the physical act of traveling, I tend to cut you people some slack because my God, it's got to be quite a job to get all of us along with all of our things to the right place at the right time. Surely, there are slip-ups. But I ask you, do all the slip-ups have to happen to the same people at the same time?

See, I feel like I did my part. You can even ask my roommate. She saw me obsessively pack, weigh, and repack my luggage a zillion times to make sure it met your requirements. I also carefully placed all of my toiletries in teeny bottles and placed them in that clear, one quart Ziploc bag you are all so fond of. I purposely wore flip-flops so I could easily whip them off at the security check point. I even got myself up crazy early to make sure that I arrived at the airport two hours before my flight. And even though I detest flying (yes, it bears repeating), I plastered a toothy grin on my face as I checked in and made sure to be ridiculously pleasant to your staff.

So why, WHY, I ask you, the inability to return the favor?

First off, SAS, why did you think it was a good idea to make us all board your plane when you had a "faulty wire" to repair? Let me be that little bird in your ear: People really don't enjoy sitting on a runway for hours at a time, waiting for you to figure our own crap out.

Those of us with connecting flights to the US, however, do enjoy being rebooked on nice airlines like Lufthansa. But then maybe you should actually rebook us and not send us running (literally, you made me lose a flip-flop in Tegel's lobby at one point) to the Lufthansa counter to get our own tickets for a flight that was leaving in less than an hour. It also would have been very helpful had you told us that there was NO WAY OUR BAGS WOULD MAKE IT on this flight you were "helping" us rebook to Newark (via Munich, thank you very much). In fact, it actually would have been quite nice had we not had to run our butts down to the Customs building (which appeared to have been built from a tin can and therefore quite toasty on an 85 degree day) only to be told that our bags would make it to New York "sometime."

But I will take this time to thank you, Lufthansa, for providing your passengers with a multitude of bathrooms on your lower floor (since when did aircraft come with elevators??) as well as all the booze you can drink. However, I'd like to remind your flight attendants that if you are going to serve Irish coffee or cognac after meals, please do not patronize female passengers by only offering the Irish coffee to them because quite frankly, there's a good chance they will bare their teeth and very curtly request cognac anyway. Some of us really need that cognac when our Yoga instructing seatmates keep dozing every few minutes, nearly crashing into our shoulders, their stinky dreadlocks dangling within inches of our noses.

(And let me now take this time to offer a brief thank you to the New Jersey transit system for providing me with the slowest, jerkiest train ride possible to Manhattan after a mere 19 hours of travel).

But back to those bags. Luckily, once again I did my part and packed a sensible carry-on complete with a few changes of clothes, the necessary underwear, some mini toiletries, and the all important laptop. But I seem to recall, FedEx, that you kind of brag about that whole timely shipping and delivery thing so I was quite shocked to learn two days after my arrival that even though you had my bags in your possession, you just don't make such deliveries on Sundays. Wow! So I assume that all of your workers have a plethora of underpants at their disposal? Must be nice. In fact, you all must have quite the stockpile considering your inability to even get my bags on Monday's truck for delivery.

But I do like to show my appreciation so I will say thank you, FedEx, for finally delivering my lost luggage yesterday, a mere five days after my departure from Germany. Finally, shoes and something other than these damn leggings to wear. In fact, I suddenly have the urge to wear all of my clothes at once which I might just do, considering the insane mosquito problem here. Oh yeah, another thing I will miss about Berlin? Few bugs. But I guess I can take it. That whole family thing kind of makes it all worth it. I just pray for no family trips for a while.

As Every Door Closes,...

I'm leaving Berlin soon. In fact, very soon which means there is little time for writing. But people keep asking me, "So what will you miss?" Well, since you know how I like to make lists, here goes:

Things I will miss about Berlin (aside from those lovely friends, of course):

- Public bathrooms which are always stocked with toilet paper, even without an attendant! (But speaking of attendants, as someone who has to utilize public restrooms far too often, I will always gladly pay a few cents for someone to maintain them).

- Mass transit's honor system which seems to actually work.

- Bakeries with gorgeous pastries and cheap, healthy sandwiches on every corner.

- German engineering. I am still enthralled by the way windows open two different ways or how my one house key opens three different doors. It's like having my dad in my pocket everywhere I go!

- Electronic boards on every subway platform telling me precisely how long I will wait for the next train so I know whether I have enough time to jump into the kiosk to buy a chocolate croissant. (Let me repeat: Baked goods EVERYWHERE.)

- Holy cheap beer, bread, cheese, and ice cream. Okay, the 80 cent ice cream cones are probably getting a bit dangerous. It's probably good I'm leaving while the clothes still fit.

- Old people cruising around on bicycles.

- Wastelessness. Whether it's taking bottles back to the neighborhood shop for recycling or shopping at any one of the ubiquitous second hand stores or incessantly polishing their shoes so that they last longer; whether it's about the environment or about their pocketbooks, I am absolutely impressed by the general conservation and accompanying distaste toward mass consumerism amongst the Germans.

- What seems to be a much healthier take on food and exercise compared to the American perspective. Here, people go ahead and eat that big piece of cake. But then they bike home. Seems like a no-brainer to me.

- Small children at art museums.

- That organic and eco-friendly is normal and cheap.

- Buying a cold bottle of beer at the convenience store, having the proprietor open it for me, and then sipping it while leisurely strolling down the street.

- Smart cars!

- The cafe culture that allows me to sit for hours at a table, reading a book and not feel any pressure to leave. The cookie or biscuit that always comes alongside my coffee is pretty great, too.

- That men actually look you in the eye (even though they still won't talk to you. I mean, who can have the moon and the stars?)

- Umm, superb health care that isn't linked to employment? And if that isn't enough, a holistic approach to health care? Wait, the mind and body are connected? Shocking!

But then there's everything I'm looking forward to back in Wisconsin (in addition to all those awesome people):

- Hello, mother tongue!

- Pizza served in slices.

- Speeding down country roads.

- Netflix (Sorry, it's true. True Blood, here I come!)

- Libraries filled with books and books, all of which I can understand!

- Not feeling like an ass when trying to order anything off a menu.

- The sound of the sandhill cranes.

- Not freaking out about the location of my passport every two days, even though it's always tucked safely inside the same pocket.

- Tipping procedures that I understand.

- AC (Yes, just once in a while. PLEASE!)

- Grocery stores that are naturally stocked with brown sugar, baking soda, and vanilla.

- The ability to chat comfortably with strangers.

- Ounces, pounds, miles, and my special friend, Fahrenheit. Seriously folks, as if the language translation hasn't been hard enough.

- Cereal that isn't chock full of sugar.

- The smell of hay fields.

- Staggering, perhaps epic de-hipsterfication.

- A good cup of black coffee.

- An automated voice on my cell phone that I understand so I'm not chronically erasing messages I don't mean to.

- Reeses Peanut Butter cups. (Can someone meet me at the airport with a bag of them please?)

- Not living out of a suitcase.

- My niece's almost uncontrollable excitement every morning about starting a new day.

Whew, I think I'm ready. So with that, I bid you a great big AUF WIEDERSEHEN! Til next time...

Quick, Before I Forget!

Berlin friends, if you need a break from the city but are too lazy to venture any further than an S-Bahn ride away, go to Schlachtensee! Right off the S1, it's a lovely lake in the woods near Wannsee. Considering my desire to spend more and more time in green spaces, I found it to be a perfect diversion from the techno booming city. (Well, except when a mama swan hissed at me and I wondered if I'd spend my last days in Germany utilizing my travel insurance on fowl induced injuries).

But really, go be one with nature. Bring the kids and splash around in the water. Or be like me and grab your journal and sit on the bank with your toes dipped in the water. Ahhh....

But never make eye contact with a mama swan.

I Did It!

After six months of living in Germany, I decided it was time to have a proper bratwurst for God's sake. My vegetarian friends are not excited for me, I know. I don't eat meat 95% of the time but the other night when I was at the Cassiopeia bier garten with my dear friend, I couldn't resist the smell of the grill right behind us. Plus, I have been amused for months now by the meat/bread ratio of the bratwurst sandwich here. I was actually surprised by the amount of bread I was given. Typically, it's a tiny bun like a bread roll with the ends of the wurst hanging out on each end. Clearly, the bread is really just a holder for the delectable meat inside.

Anyway, when I sat down with this thing, I said to my friend, "I don't eat meat often and this is a lot. Please have some with me," at which she replied, "Aw, you can do it."

And I sure did.

Wow, was that a delicious wurst. I mean, a girl can really eat so many beans and cheese before she apparently starts to crave a chunk of pig. Oh dear, time to start fresh with those vegetarian ideals.

Next week.

I have only 24 hours left in Berlin. Let's see what else I can demolish. Do not even think about double daring me. I may be small but I sure can put it away.

But Before I Head Back to My Repressed Country...

Everyone knows that Americans tend to get a little freaked out by the nudity at European beaches. This is because we don't typically run around topless back home and quite frankly neither do you, Europe so yes, it's a little surprising when we suddenly see you lounging in the sand all free. But okay, whatever. It's easy enough to get used to. Years ago, the beaches in Valencia got me over my initial discomfort.

I never did make it to any sort of beach during this trip (sigh) but I did take my friend's son to the neighborhood pool a couple of times. Now, let me just say this: a public pool right smack dab in Mitte does not seem at all synonymous to beach culture if you ask me. In fact, at first I was comforted by how normal and familiar it felt to me. Similar pool set up with requisite snack bar. Yep, seemed all pretty American-like, that is, until I looked up from spreading our blanket down on the grass and was greeted by a man's bare bum in my face.

??????

Okay, first off, being topless is one thing. Bare from the waist down is a totally different, err, ballgame.

I tried not to look surprised but I highly doubt that my face complete with bulging eyes did not reveal utter shock. Was this some sort of flirtation? My God, just buy me an ice cream bar, for God's sake! But no, this young man wasn't even looking at me. He was just simply changing out of his swimming trunks back into his shorts. But wait, weren't we in the middle of a busy poolside park? With people everywhere? And isn't this Germany? Aren't people supposed to be repressed here??

Well, actually I've learned quite a bit about the nudity here and just how free a whole lot of people tend to be with their bodies. How refreshing. And it's not just about adults on the beaches. On many occasions, I've seen groups of kids (and I'm talking 5 or 6-year-olds, not babies) from kindergartens peel off all of their clothes at the neighborhood park to play in the water. Can you imagine, dear American friend, the assumptions if one went to his/her kid's day care and found the whole class naked? Lawsuits aplenty!

And funnily enough, a few minutes after I witnessed dude drop his drawers, I noticed a crowd of kids around him. It then hit me that he was some sort of recreation leader for a group of school aged kids. This about made me howl with laughter. A teacher gets naked in front of his class?? I can just imagine the headline back home: Pervert Teacher Shows His Stuff on Class Trip: Parents say they had no clue of Mr. Schneider's Pedophiliac tendencies.

I promptly asked all of my German friends if parents here would tend to freak out about such behavior. Although they said this wasn't quite the expected behavior of your kid's teacher, they admitted that it would be nothing to get worked up about.

Amazing.

It's also kind of amazing to think that if I want to go sunbathing topless at a public beach back in Wisconsin, I could go to jail. (Because that's where we need to put our tax dollars. I shall stop before a big, huge tangent ensues...)

So soon enough, I will be back to being repressed. Oh well. I can at least put my eyeballs back into their sockets. I prefer other kinds of surprises anyway.