Showing posts from April, 2009

Pounding the Feet

I'm running again. Thrice in the last four days. Up (or, often, around) the big hills of our neighborhood, under the pink canopies of blossoms. And before you think it sounds romantic, let me assure you, it ain't pretty. Imagine (or don't, please don't) my hulky frame jouncing and bouncing in a too-small tank top and cropped pants, sweating like the dickens ... you get the idea. People pass me. Not just svelte figures with swinging ponytails. But old men. Old women. Dads pushing strollers at a leisurely pace. Frogs. Snails. Two-year olds with polio.

I used to run a lot--several times a week for an hour. I'd listen to a whole episode of This American Life, doubling over laughing when it was funny, little tears mixing with pouring sweat when I was moved. But that was in Mississippi. And since then my health has made it impossible. It's only now, coming out on the other side of all that, that I realize just how impossible it was. Running takes a …

Very Important Things to Tell You

* Amara asked about the Nightmare Gallery in Salem. I must say, a love for frightful things is not something Sam and I have in common, so as we were going in to said gallery, while he was saying, "Ohboyohboyohboyohboy," I was saying, "Ohnoohnoohnoohno." But it wasn't bad. It was just a museum of horror movies. The weird part was that after nearly three years of hanging with the Sam, I had seen WAY more of those movies than I ever thought I would. I recognized characters, remembered lines. THAT was the terrifying part.

* It's gorgeous outside, just gorgeous. I took a run, lapping up the vitamin D on my bare shoulders. A little puppy insisted on conversing with me. I stopped at the park at the top of that tall-tall hill, sat on the stone wall, looked at the city, and cried for my friend Scott, who died last summer in Provo canyon. Didn't know I was still mourning that. Anyway, aside from that, it was such a happy outing.

*The other night I dreamed that Marj…

Oh Boy

Love this picture of Sam and his dad in Marblehead.

Sam's parents were in town last week, and they spoiled us rotten--in a very good way. They fixed things around the house, bought us yummy food and more yummy food, then whisked us off for a weekend in New York. New York was swinging gently into spring--blossoms just barely peeking and the weather lovelier than I remembered it could be.

Here's one more picture of Sam going into Count Orlock's Nightmare Gallery in Salem. You can't tell from his back how excited he is. He must have said, "Oh boy," about 300 times. I honestly don't know if I've ever seen him happier.

My Favorite Vegan Dish--Thus Far

Here's tonight's dinner. Lemony Cashew-Basil Pesto with whole grain pasta and garlic-sauted broccoli rabe.

Sam, when he saw this picture, said: "That actually doesn't look anywhere near as good as it tasted."

I'd agree. I like this better than traditional pesto. Lighter or something. The lemon just shimmers on the tongue and the cashews are oh-so-creamy.

Here's a picture of the pesto all alone:

And here's the recipe, courtesy of Dreena Burton's Eat, Drink, and Be Vegan.

Lemony Cashew-Basil Pesto

1 large clove garlic
3-3 1/2 tbsp fresh lemon juice
3/4 dry mustard (I just used a squirt of brown mustard. Tasted fine.)
3/4 tsp sea salt
black pepper to taste
2 tbsp olive oil (I used one, and two tbsp of water.)
1 tbsp water
1 cup + 1-2 tbsp raw cashews
2 1/2-3 cups (packed) fresh basil

In food processor, combine garlic, lemon juice, mustard, salt, pepper, oil, and water, puree until smooth. Add cashews and basil and puree.

The pesto will be thick at this…

I Want to Hug It

We went for a walk at some park yesterday.

I took a lot of pictures like the one below to illustrate two points: 1. Pretty. 2. It is so not spring yet. What a jerk.

We found these spiky things, which reminded me of being in elementary school at Golden Avenue in Lemon Grove, CA. We would have spiky-thing wars. Why someone would have a tree that produced spikes at an elementary school is beyond me. War hurts.

Our favorite part was the Canada Geese. Sam was particularly impressed. Here's a bit of dialogue.

Sam: What kind of creature is that?

Deja: A Canada Goose.

Sam: I want to hug it.

And off he went, after the goose. Here's a shot of him trying to get close. That's about as close he got because I told him they are notoriously violent. Is that true? I'm pretty sure that's true.

Like I said, we liked the geese. Which caused us to be disturbed by this sign.

Define "degrade" please. Who says it's your park, Bub?

Do you think this begins my transitio…

Don't Buy This

You'll daydream about it.

Maybe It Ain't So Bad

So today I made fat free vegan waffles and I know you're groaning over there, imagining how hard and icky those would be. But you know what? They rocked. And not as in hard as rocks, but really genuine rocking. Wow they were good. Especially with my special berry sauce, which really isn't special, just tasty. Come to my house. I'll make you healthy waffles.

Also, Sam and I went on a walk because it was sunny and gorgeous and there were little tiny flowers, so there are SOME flowers up in this hood.

He made me walk up this hill that was enormously steep, which was fine because there was a pretty little park at the top with a stone wall and a view of Boston and happy people were sitting on the stone, and I was in this lovely mood so I kept asking Sam if we could have a picnic some day at this pretty park, and I don't think he was digging my four-year-old-ed-ness. Whatever though, because if I make the food and I put it in a basket and I tell him we're eating …

I Stopped Believing in Winter Weeks Ago

I stopped wearing my coat, even though I shivered all the way from my car to campus. I tore all the draft-preventing plastic from our windows, even though I could feel the wind come through the closed window and kiss my neck. I cooed at the little green sprouts by our doorstep, even though they haven't blossomed yet.

My reasoning was this: If I ceased lending credibility to winter, it would get its feelings hurt, realize its goose was cooked, and split.

But it didn't. It hasn't snowed again or anything. And the weather has been decent-er, sometimes even lovely, but where the Sam Hill (Hi, Sam!) are the flowers, the blossoms, the bright pink petals? Enough already with the brown.

I wouldn't whine, but I keep seeing pictures of the cherry blossoms in DC, which are painfully gorgeous. And I was thinking maybe they're just lower than us, and wondering how many days it takes spring to travel 8 hours. But today I saw pictures of flashy flowers in the Pacific Northwes…