How to Improvise Miso Soup

Didn't intend to make a cooking video, but it happened. More of my videos here.

Jugs

Cape Cod, gearing up for a half marathon (fail), and dogs, dogs, dogs. And yes, I do say those exact words in this video title and it is entirely appropriate. More of my videos here.

Obstacle Course

Easy soup: chick peas and pinto beans, mushrooms, onions, celery, carrot, and broccoli. Plus miso, cracked pepper, and dulse flakes at the table.

I add the broccoli separately, each time I reheat the soup, so that it stays green and fresh.

Chop, chop, chop...

Yesterday, after a long two weeks of overwork in which I somehow managed to stock my refrigerator with vegetables but couldn't be bothered to prepare anything but cereal and nuts and dried fruit and power bars, I hit the wall. There comes a point when feeling less than healthy is just not good enough. I needed to eat better and I needed to make it easy to do so.

In spite of looming deadlines and a stack of dirty dishes in the sink, I wiped down my kitchen counters and went to work. Every vegetable got its turn on the cutting board, some added to a salad, a slaw, a soup, some simply stored for future steaming or stir frying. While I chopped, I listened to Amy Purdy at TedxOrangeCoast tell her amazing survival story, reminding me eloquently that obstacles on our paths can do two things: stop us in our tracks, or force us to get creative.

Sometimes, I might add, the creativity need not involve reinventing the wheel.

Cabbage is my go to green when it comes to food prep in advance. Try it sometime: shred some cabbage and some carrots together. Dress with lemon juice or vinegar, salt, a little agave and olive oil perhaps, some raisins, and whole caraway, cumin, or dill seeds if you're feeling fancy. The wonder of this healthy slaw is that it gets tastier over time, hitting its peak about four days after preparation. The salt draws the moisture out of the vegetables, enriching the dressing and leaving the normally firm veggies limp, chewy, and succulent. The raisins get plump and soft, and the seeds add a unique and addictive flavor accent.

Life After Cancer

After breast cancer? Vacation! More of my videos here.

Sleeping Again

That's Teeccino in my mug, I love that stuff (caffeine-free herbal coffee). And yes, I actually do use this typewriter.

I am sleeping again, occasionally waking up feeling – can you believe it – rested. Which means some wound up thing inside of me has unwound. I am not constantly thinking of outrunning cancer, of the potential shortness of my life, of how I want to cram each day full of fun and closeness and accomplishment.

That said, I must admit, deep down, I fully expect the cancer will come back. It's an expectation that defies logic. I happen upon another woman's story – diagnosed at 40, mastectomy, nine years later, diagnosed again, another mastectomy – and though I know this scenario is not the norm, I am immediately thinking: this will be my story. I'm all but marking my calendar for nine years out.

I'm swimming (three days a week) and running (three days a week) and biking (once or twice a week - on the spin bike or outside on the weekend when weather permits.) And I'm working, setting ambitious deadlines for myself, exploring lots of new work. (You can see some of what I've been up to here.) And of course I'm walking my dear dog every day as well.

So I guess the point is, I'm sleeping. But not enough yet to make up for how much I wasn't sleeping before.

You are a Gift

My thank you card. More of my cards, and how to purchase them, here.

This Thanksgiving, Jim and I cooked together, improvising a simple, traditional meal of organic turkey baked in a bed of onion and sweet potato, cornbread and mushroom stuffing with sage and leeks from the garden, apple-cider gravy, string beans, salad, and cranberry-orange relish. And for dessert, apple pie, homemade vanilla ice cream, and toasted walnuts. We used no recipes, had no guests, and, sorry folks, took no pictures. It was a no-stress holiday meal followed by a long sprawl on the couch watching movies.

But perhaps the best part of the holiday was reflecting on all the incredible people who got us through this very challenging year. So many reached out to us with everything from words of encouragement, cards, and gifts, to help around the house, casseroles, and yard work. I made a painting specifically to express my gratitude and designed a greeting card from it so we could get our appreciations out in style.

Over the weekend, Jim and I staged a marathon card-writing session. We wrote a lot of thank yous, but I would not feel complete if I didn't send a thank you to all of you who read my blog and watch my videos. It helps that so many are interested in my story. Thank you for your attention, for your caring, and for reaching out to me through the inter-webs. It means more to me than you know.

Every Three Months

Speaking of routine: my husband's Sunday morning pancake extravaganza. This week: buckwheat-cornmeal cakes with almond butter, plain yogurt, bananas, and strawberries. Oh yeah, and maple syrup. This is the plate he made up for himself. He kindly paused mid-meal for the photo shoot. Speaking of pancakes, check this out.

Today's the day. My second of who knows how many years worth of every-three-month check-ins with my oncologist for a thorough once-over and a blood test. Three months goes by fast. I get the feeling I'm going to be hating this ritual before long.

My back has been sore lately. I'm trying to shake that irrational fear that it means cancer in my bones. I say irrational because all the evidence stacks up against that being the case. If it was cancer, I don't think it would have started to hurt so suddenly after running a half-marathon, my second in two weeks. Or rather, after running and then sitting in an extreme slouch, feet on the dash, in the car for half an hour. If it was cancer, I don't think it would have improved gradually over the past few weeks. I don't think I would leave the chiropractor feeling better each time.

But panic is what panic is - oblivious to rational persuasion. Once you've been scared for your life out of the blue, it's easy to revisit that feeling.

Yesterday I admitted to a friend that I'm scared and she talked about Buddhism. About being in the present. Good advice. However, I did not receive it well. Deep down, for me, it is embarrassing to admit that I have this fear. Advice, no matter how well-meaning, makes me wish I hadn't mentioned it. It makes me feel alone. Advice is tricky like that. And I can be a prickly bastard. Ah, well, we're all human. Right?