Wake Up Raw

Oh, how I’ve missed the Internet.  We have so much catching up to do. 

Thanksgiving was pleasant.  Our vegan friends invited us over and we contributed raw delicacies including a sweet potato dish and a very speical pecan pie.  This pie was fun to make because it had an extravagant little ingredient that was HAND DELIVERED to me by the grand-daughter of my dear friends in California.  She was coming to Sitka for a visit, so she stashed hard-to-find raw ingredients in her luggage.  I parked outside of the airport long enough to grab the goodies and say a quick hello.  Given the state of affairs at airports these days, I’m sure we must’ve violated at least a dozen post 9/11 Homeland Security Laws.  It was all very exciting. And as I drove off in my get-away vehicle, I dug around in the satchel and found the freaky little ingredient I was looking for-

Irish Moss.

I’ve never worked with this stuff, but in my mind’s eye I pictured a dry, herb-like powder.  I recall hearing that the good Irish Moss is bleached white from the sun so I was thinking it would come in a jar and look like… I don’t know…  flakey salt, maybe?  

Uh, no.

I’m pretty sure somewhere in Ireland there is a Swamp Thing lurking around.  And that Irish Swamp Thing has an Irish Swamp Cat. And instead of coughing up fur balls like nice cats do, The Swamp Cat hacks up tangly, salty wads of seaweed, allows it to shrivel up on the carpet, and then sells them to trusting Raw Foodists around the world.  I would call the Better Business Bureau and complain about the Swamp Cat ripping us all off, but the stuff works like a charm.

The pecan pie turned out rich, creamy (thanks, Swamp Cat!) and everyone seemed to enjoy it.  Even though it would’ve been nicer to eat the pie WITH my California friends, making this recipe with their thoughtfully delivered ingredients was a sweet substitute.  (Even if I almost became a felon in that seemingly criminal airport exchange!!)

Being Busy picked a fight with Being Thankful this week, but Being Thankful won.  And at Thanksgiving dinner we all had a chance to speak about things for which we were grateful.  I was tempted to say  ”I’m thankful my gigantic, hand-shaped brain tumor has vanished” but I didn’t want anyone to choke (or file a malpractice suit due to such a miscalculated self-diagnosis)…. Announcing “Whoo-Hooo!  I’m thankful my husband didn’t have to shackle me up in that straight-jacket after all!” didn’t seem appropriate, either. By the time my turn came around, I just repeated what everyone else said in one way or another- that I’m grateful for my family, my health and my family’s health.  

Can I ask for anything more?

Irish Moss (dry)

Irish Moss (re-hydrated)

My cat is on an involuntary water fast. 

She ran out of cat food yesterday and would you believe we forgot to get her a new bag today?  I feel horrible.  But not so horrible that I’m running back to the store.  Moderately horrible, I guess.

I hate to even say this, but my depression is rearing its ugly head today.  I have gone to work in the dark and come home in the dark.  I worked overtime for the third time in 5 working days.  I received some bad news in a personal matter that continues to be a source of oppression in my life.  I’m having one of those days where I had to lock myself in the bedroom just to have space to breathe.  And cry. And pray.  And remind myself to breathe some more.  If my family wasn’t on the other side of the door, I would’ve released some great screams into my pillow.  I’m having a hard time counting my blessings (which I have experienced today, mind you) and I’ll be the first to admit, I think I have a bad case of Isreal-itis.  (I hope you know what that is because I’m way too tired to explain it.)

I’d like to be able to fix everything by cracking the Depression Code…. is it Oppression + Recession = Depression?? I’m doing my best to remove at least one factor but penciling out a neat soultion doesn’t feel likely today.  

ANYHOW.

At least I’m not my cat.

My son spells love “M-O-N-O-P-O-L-Y” and when either of us agree to play that marathon of a game with him, his little face shines like a beacon.  Even when he’s getting his little nine-year-old butt kicked.  His strategy is to focus on acquiring Boardwalk & Parkplace.  Mine is to get the ghetto properties on the wrong side of the Reading Railroad tracks and then develop them.  My slummy but affordable green shacks quickly turn into massive hotel-shaped Projects.  And then every time he passes GO, I’m there to fleece him.

Skid Row Style.

I like to think he’ll somehow glean the lesson that a person can prosper by simultaneously persevering and living within their means as opposed to being too worried about living in the right neighborhood.  But I’m OK with him just gleaning I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, Dear Son.

Strategy is they key to successfully keeping raw.  Invited to dinner with friends?  Ask them if they wouldn’t mind making a green salad and offer to bring a side dish so you are guaranteed two options.  Working two jobs and don’t have time for a meal between shifts?

Oh, wait.  That’s me.

I’m trying to solve this problem so I don’t get irrational around cooked foods during my waitressing shift.  (Last time I worked, I envisioned myself drinking a container full of 1,ooo Island dressing through a straw.)(Which reminds me… when I was a kid, I thought 1,000 Island had something to do with Fantasy Island.)(Which is why in my strange vision, there was a pint sized man cheering me on as I gulped down the pickle-icious sauce.)

Back to tonight’s strategy.  On my way to work, I am going to grab a Kumbucha from the store and one of those packaged raw bars.  For the pure raw foodist, I’m sure the raw bar is a no-no, but desperate people do desperate things.  And if my inclination is to drink fatty salad dressing through a straw and lick people’s NY Strips, then PEOPLE. I’ve known desperate.   So, overpriced Kumbucha and raw-ish bars are my plan of attack.

I’ve been meaning to learn how to home-brew some Kumbucha but I understand I’ll need a “Mother”.  That really scares me.  What if Kumbucha is one of those things that will repulse me when I find out how it’s made?  Maybe that little slimy, saliva-looking-thing swirling around the surface of my Kumbucha is saying something to me.  Something like…. “HEY!  Kumbucha is the HOT DOG of the raw food world!!!   Ignorance is Bliss.  BLISS!!!”

I also saw a little number on how to make raw protein bars… I may try whipping some up soon.  Having either of these go-to items at the ready will keep me on track even on these nights when I have almost no time to eat.  AND, it will save some money.

Which is a good strategy no matter which side of the tracks you live on.

I’ve made it ONE MONTH without eating anything but Living Foods.  Here are the top 10 reasons I’m going to keep on keeping on….

10. The kitchen knives are free from thier lock-down status as I’m not thinking about using the butcher knife for anything other than dicing actual food.

 9.  My nose feels like it grew a third nostril.  My sense of smell is keen enough that dogs fear I may greet them the same way they greet me.

 8.  For some strange reason, my cracked heels have disappeared and are now replaced with baby soft skin.

 7.  Fitting into my old jeans.  My wardrobe has expanded!!

 6.  I wake up with smooth, clean teeth and save money on razors since I no longer have to shave the fur off my fangs.

 5.  Smooth skin that seems to be getting tanner as the days get darker. 

 4.  Having an immunization system that I can count on.  Did I mention laughing on the inside when I heard the AD Council suggests we wear a face mask          to prevent the circulation of Swine Flu?  FACE MASK??  REALLY??  (OK… I laughed OUT LOUD at that.)(How did you know??)

 3.  Watching my children look forward to slamming down a green smootie with me every morning.

 2.  No longer standing at the cupboard wondering What AM I looking for again??  It seems my mind is working faster and I no longer have a secret fear              that a brain tumor is taking over my entire mind (and not in a good way like John Travolta in Phenomonon).  

 1.  Laughing again.

Today is Friday the 13th… an unlucky day for the suspicious people of the world and a VERY unfortunate one for The Mister.  At about 9am, his kidney went into acute labor.  Now, I’ve heard that kidney stones are as painful as body pains can get (baby births aside, of course) and instead of screaming for an EPIDUUURALLLLL he kept his mind off the pain by….

…wait for it….

CLEANING.  

Really.

I came home from work (in the pitch black dark, mind you) and The Mister was standing in a clean house with DINNER READY.  He told me that when he felt the attack coming on, vacuuming helped him keep the immediate pain under control.  His “nesting” method must’ve worked because this is the first time he didn’t have to “Worship the Porcelain God” at the most intense moments.

I could suggest in the future he nest and labor in that messy toy-room closet, but that would be cruel.  Right?

In all honesty, I appreciate the grand effort he’s made to keep our family running smoothly as I go back to work.  

Speaking of work….  Yesterday was absolutely BRUTAL.  I had a twenty minute break between jobs and I didn’t have it together enough to grab both a raw lunch and a raw dinner on my way out the door in the morning.  So I went into my waitress mode not just hungry, but irritably hungry.  HANGRY. 

And pretty soon I was having fantasies about eating my customer’s Pepper Jack Cheeseburger. I knew I was in the weeds when I actually asked myself if the customer would notice if I just licked the cheese.  I can remember every single plate of food I handled last night because I undressed each and every entree with my eyes….  (Carribean Rib Eye… done medium rare… baked potato… side of bacon bits… soup of the day… all followed by bacon wrapped scallops…. Budwiser for him. Two Miller Lites for her.)  Thankfully, I only served one order of mouthwatering sweet potato fries but that one order was enough to have them dancing in my head for the rest of the night.  But dear Internet I did not cave!!  To cope, I just nibbled on veggies from the salad-prep area.  That handful of raw onions was surprisingly satisfying.  

Tonight’s dinner was a different story.  It was beautifully and lovingly made by this amazing man I get to spend my days and nights with.  (Spicy marinara sauce served on top of zucchini noodles and baby portabella mushrooms.)(Sorry, I ate it before I could photograph it!)    I could go on to tell you about how he did the laundry and line dried my good jeans (yes, my friends, LINE DRIED because HE READ THE LABEL!!). Or that he is currently on the floor perfecting his one-arm push-ups.  I don’t want y’all to think I’m making this up because you know what? It’s unbelievable even to me! 

On a presumably UNLUCKY day like today, I feel pretty lucky.

My Excalibur Dehydrator is a thorn in my aesthetically sensitive eye.  This thing falls in the category of ugly, cluttery crap to clean around and I think if I were to put my Grandmother’s old console TV up on my counter top it would take up less space than this dehydrator does.  It’s waaaay too wide for the pantry shelving and I can’t bring myself to put it on the stainless shelves I have in the utility room because the cat litter is in there.   I wouldn’t want my raw food cuisine somehow mingling with my cat’s “Almond Roca”.  She wouldn’t appreciate that.

I am, however, enjoying the heck out of the flax crackers that came out of said menacing dehydrator.  They are magically delicious.  My handsome renegade-stay-at-home husband made them with love & a new recipe.  In an attempt to quench Thai Food cravings, we downloaded  a Thai recipe book from Russell James’ site (www.therawchef.com).  His flax crackers are DELISH and just having them around makes me feel like I’m somehow swinging over to the Standard American Diet when I eat them.  Maybe it’s because I put them in the cupboard next the the Wheat Thins.   Come to think of it, I don’t really want my flax crackers mingling with those nasty Wheat Thins, either.   

At work today, I ate a delicious vegetable sandwich on flax crackers.  I’m afraid that I’ve had so much flax that I’m going to be forced to discuss elimination one of these days.  A hot topic among raw foodists but one I try to discuss only with a select few (you know who you are!!).  I’m just a baby blogger and I don’t want to disgust my readers (all three of you) who are skittish about things like this (YOU also know who you are!!).

It is now dark when I leave work at 4pm and we are still FIVE weeks away from the darkest day of the year.  There is daylight by the time I leave for work, but soon we’ll be saying good-bye to that.  Thanks to Operation Raw Food, I think this Alaskan is on her way to doing just fine.

(But I’d be even better if someone could come up with a flat-screen version of an Excalibur Dehydrator!!)

bad boy

Oh, how I’ve missed the Internet and Grey’s Anatomy.  Two guilty pleasures I haven’t had time to indulge in since work, work, working around the clock.  

I’ve taken a full-time position working as an advocate for kids that are in difficult circumstances. Kids that need a “someone”.  I’m their Someone. Meanwhile, I’m still working a couple nights a week for people who need to eat.  In that case, I’m the someone who takes orders and then magically appears with their juicy prime ribs.  Kind of like a Steak Fairy.  Such drastically different roles that on days I work at both places, I may have to put my waitress apron on in the phone-booth.

The Mister is running our business while being an At Home Dad for our littlest son.   Our family is adjusting to the new schedule, but I’m having the hardest time.  I long to be home even if it means reading The Foot Book again and again and again to my sweet little guy.  

It has been almost ten years since I’ve worked an 8-5 job and I’m in a bit of shock at the state of affairs.   During orientation at my new job, I was told that I’m expected to “eat lunch on the run” and that other workers just “bring a portion of their work home”.   I also found out that if I were to accept the insurance plan, it would require 45% of may pay to add my husband to the plan.  For over 90% of my pay, I could insure the whole family!!  What a deal!!   At the restaurant the other night, I was scheduled to work with only one other server.  We were expectated to do our jobs and the jobs of of host and cashier.  A plan that looked good on paper but not-so-good when the kind people from the retirement home came in to dine and I did my best to navigate trays of entrees around wheelchairs, cashed out 18 SEPARATE TICKETS and confirmed tax exemption numbers while the rest of Sitka crammed into every available seat in the restaurant.  Thankfully the elders didn’t revolt and mow me over with their wheelchairs and walkers.  Because, it was messy.

According to EVERYONE, I should just be happy to have a job in this economy.  Even if I’m doing two jobs and getting paid for one.  I’m trying to view getting back into the workforce as good motivation for me… reminding myself that I have goals and although I feel like I am a slave to these jobs, right now I have an opportunity to make these jobs my slave as working them means accomplishing my goals.  Which basically boils down to HANGING ON TO OUR BUSINESS this winter.

In spite of all this adjusting, I’ve been especially thankful for my health this week.  Managing all of this would’ve been absolutely impossible for me last year… as I’ve said, rolling out of bed and getting through a day without having a nervous breakdown was as much as I could accomplish.  I’ve continued to ask myself this week where I would be if I’d been eating poorly.  I’m pretty sure I’m scared of the answer. 

Because this week was a real challenge.  Not like last week when in my post I said that I DIDN’T NOTICE the loss of DAYLIGHT???   I said that??? Obviously that was before I crawled out from under my rock and noticed the time change.   I mean, HELLO!!?? It’s pretty hard not to notice when THE sun sets shortly after school is dismissed.  This week, darkness has threatened to overtake me.  I’ve had sleepless nights spent worrying over this or that.  I’ve even melted down and shot some verbal daggers at my husband.  Watching his face contort into that half-shocked half-scared expression made me think he was considering tackling me to the floor to perform an exorcism ritual.  

But he didn’t. 

Instead, he quietly led me to the couch and sat next to me while I cried for a bit.  While I don’t find it necessary to tell the Internet about the challenges we’ve had to face in this world, I will tell you that our family is no stranger to pain.  And not the kind of pain that’s like a bad hip joint that smarts when the weather changes.  Our pain is harder to describe.  

It’s like we were walking outside one day and suddenly the ground split open at our feet.  Some days I wish the Earth would’ve just swollowed me up and gotten it over with, but mostly I imagine this pain as the Grand Canyon gaping open at my feet… where I’m in the valley trying to clamor up with a backpack that’s too heavy.   I just want to get to the other side ALREADY.  But what if getting “over there” isn’t really possible?  And if I do make it… will things ever be OK again because I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten what life was like before the Grand Canyon divided my life into “before” and “after”.

I don’t think throwing a bushel of raw spinach down to the woman in the canyon is going to change the fact that right now she has an uphill climb. But. I do think nourishing her will make the climb easier.  

And good nourishment is how I managed to roll boulders uphill this week.

Just because I haven’t posted since Monday doesn’t mean I’m hiding from the Internet while shamefully nibbling on Cheeze-Its and Rice Crispy Treats. In fact, I’ve been involved in many cooked food activities this week and somehow, SOMEHOW kept on eating raw.  I finished up my gig cooking and serving lunch at the Alternative High School,  served many plates of delicious Roasted Vegetable Pasta at the restaurant,  made chili & cornbread for a friend with a new baby at home and even attended a sugar-laden Harvest Carnival without, I repeat:  WITHOUT eating anything cooked!! 

With the exception of the pasta, it really wasn’t that hard, either. 

Anyone who hasn’t ever eaten this way would probably think… Ah, live a little… a handful of Pirate’s Booty ain’t going to kill ya.  Or… I could NEVER  do that… its so ANTI-SOCIAL….  (And how do I actually know you’re thinking this?  Because I have family.  And God Bless, when they aren’t thinking out loud, they’re praying for you. OUT LOUD.)

But here’s the thing.   Cooked food and I have tried to reason with each other in the past.  I say… I’m not eating you… and it says… just this once… and next thing you know, I’m like a crazed crack addict looking for a fix.  I’m stashing double-stuffed Oreos in the corner cabinet, telling myself I’ll just eat ONE ROW but somehow eating the entire tray.  Raw Food is just sitting there in the corner, crying…. Abandoned…. Looking up the number to Social Services while planning an Oreo Intervention…. Hoping it stops before the lunatic has to look up the number to the Suicide Hotline again.

You get the picture. 

The bottom line is that quite simply, I’ve found that it is far more difficult to eat mostly raw than it is to eat completely raw.  

AND TODAY marks two weeks of eating completely raw.  TWO WEEKS!  Had I been held hostage at gunpoint for two weeks, that’d be a LIFETIME. And, if I’d survived in the wilderness for two weeks with a broken back, grazing only on the grass I could reach with my face, Oprah would be calling.  

Maybe staying away from cooked food for two weeks may not mean a whole lot to the rest of the world, but to me it has meant I endured a very challenging week without much incident.  (I say MUCH because there was this thing which involved getting a family ready for church and seriously wondering why, why, why I do more sinning getting ready for church than I do the rest of the week?? But anyhow.)  My codependent relationship with the weather has seemed to get better, too.  I just heard yesterday that we are losing light at a rate of 4 minutes a day (that means 56 MORE minutes of darkness today than when I began eating raw foods two weeks ago) and I haven’t really noticed.  I would tell you about my digestive system and how efficiently it is working, but  I’ll save that for another happy time.  I’m also glad to report that my Brain Sludge seems to be getting better.  I don’t recall staring at the fridge or walking upstiars and asking myself how did I get here and what was it I needed?

Compared to being held at gunpoint or being alone in the forest, thinking about food this much and then having the audacity to BLOG about it seems pretty narcissistic.  

But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop.

I walked into the Alternative High School thinking I was to be substituting for the Lunch Lady.  I was a teensy bit worried I was going to have to wear a hair net and those ill-fitting plastic shower caps in the shape of gloves, but that was the least of my worries. It turns out the Lunch Lady is also the PRINCIPAL!!  

So for the last two days, I’ve been the Food Service Principal.  Almost as confusing as the Flying Nun.  In fact, so confusing that after recounting today’s wild and crazy events involving two volatile teenagers, meetings with the Superintendent, crisis intervention planning and a death threat, the Mister goes, “Where was the Principal?”  And I was like…Honey- I WAS THE PRINCIPAL.  

Normally I may have jabbed him in the kidneys for pseudo listening to me when I KNOW I told him yesterday that I was the administrator, but he and his kidney had a very bad day, too.  They were in labor for a few hours.

Apparently the pains began around 9 am, followed by vomiting and frantic, wild-eyed pleas asking GOD! FOR! MERCY! We are expecting a kidney stone to crown in a couple of days.  We don’t have health insurance so we’re planning a home birth. After we fish her out of the strainer, we’ll give ‘er some pony tails and call her Vivian.

We think these stones are coming from Mister’s years of living the high protien, high fat life.  Right after our big water fast a few years back, he asked me to come into the loo to see the gritty sludge he “passed”.  It most definately looked like kidney stone pixie dust to me.

Maybe Mister will have to go into the clinic, maybe not.  I’ve heard two medical horror stories in the last 24 hours that make me think our decision to home birth our kidney stones is the best course of action for now. I’ve also heard a medical horror story of  kidney stones not taken care of.  We’re just going to use wisdom and caution.  And while we’re at it, we’re gonna throw some blame on that ugly cousin named Detox.

(Hey. Isn’t this suppose to be a raw food blog? Why does she keep talking about the loo?)

As for me.  I feel good.  So good in fact, I buzzed around the kitchen like Julia Child (boy, she’s really making a comeback, non?) whipping up all kinds of good food which I’ll feature here later this week. Meanwhile… I’ll be eating raw food while serving cooked food while listening to the Singing Nun.

Or something like that.

Today is a snuggling kind of day.  The clouds and the mountains seem to be cradling each other, the cat is purring on my lap, kids are strangely content and heat from the wood stove is keeping me idle.  A day to treasure. 

Today also marks one week since my return to raw foods.  Detox-wise, I’m feeling much better.  Other than being overwhelmed with the sense I was smelling tator tots for the better part of five minutes (that’s right-I’m blaming detoxing on this) and an occasional metallic taste in my mouth, all is well.  I imagine as my body cleans out, there will be issues that pop up, but as of right now, I think I’m over the hump. 

I should probably consider weighing myself although I don’t have a scale in my house at the moment.  When I was in college, I gained the Freshman 15 in like, 15 minutes.  Shamefully, I also got a little cozy with a keg or two.  The result was a bloated college freshman with poor grades.  I didn’t have a scale then but would weigh myself occasionally when I finally went to the gym.  I must’ve just gotten into the habit of guess-timating how much I weighed and knowing when I was in my zone or not so I just went without.  Or, maybe it’s just that I’ve never been much in the way of knick-knacks or crap on the floor and a scale definitely falls into the category as something you have to clean, dedicate floor space to and try not to compulsively jump on every-time you use the loo.  

Bottom line?

I’ll weigh myself soon.

The biggest surprise is that on Saturday I woke up happy.  The actual “JOY-JOY-JOY-JOY-down-in-my-heart” variety of happy.  And today??? I woke up just before dawn. On my own!!  AND… I almost got up.  Instead, I pulled the covers up, snuggled in and fell back asleep, but STILL….I’m making progress.  

Eight days ago, I probably wouldn’t have seen any beauty in a grey day like today.  Eight days ago, my idleness may have been less of a choice and more of an inability to cope.  I think I’m making progress.  Progress, I tell you!