Age is a High Price to Pay for Maturity

As a young adult, I lived life as if it were one big tour de force. I have ridden rodeo as a barrel racer; been thrown off of a Brahma bull; gone white water rafting; scuba diving in the cerulean waters of the Caribbean; explored caves; swam with dolphins, sharks and octopi; earned a living singing Amazing Grace at funeral parlors. I even tried sniffing coke once, but the ice cubes stuck in my nose.

Because of my plucky spirit of adventure, I sometimes found myself in hazardous situations of uncertain outcome. As spine-tingling and downright scary as they sometimes were, these enterprises were invigorating to this probing mind and became fodder for my pencil pushing ingenuity.

My parents had high hopes that someday I would outgrow this keenness for escapade and become normal like them. Normal people have always worried me and while I loved them dearly, it always disappointed me that my family could not understand my bold and usually risky undertakings. Believing me to be a foolhardy ne'er-do-well; the black sheep of the family, I was for years referred to as that “crazy Aunt Linda” but then crazy is a relative term in my family!

I have however, lived these last few decades, cleverly disguised as a responsible adult. Although the gusto that has tinted my life with color has not diminished, it has become a bit iridescent and at times hard to glimpse. Some of the past is beginning to fade and though I once had a photographic memory, every now and then I believe my brains camera is out of film. My mind still works like lightning though; one brilliant flash and it's gone.

I continually love a good challenge; living for the moment and from time to time still living on the edge even if it is only on my bed. I often wonder where life’s journey is going to take me next. Perhaps as I head out on new quests for adventurous exciting new activities like…oh I don’t know…bowling maybe, some of the things on my bucket list can be crossed off. Learn to dance; tour the country in a hot air balloon; ride from the East coast to the West coast on horseback; get married again (who said that?), and tour Italy on a bike. Someday Lord willing they will all come to fruition.

One of the biggest exploits of late however is the commitment made on this blog. Commitments may not have meant what they should have in my younger days, but they mean everything now. Sometimes commitments can be difficult to honor and often times seem like an uphill skirmish. Today is no different.

I have spent these past several days going through each and every can and box in my tiny little pantry. I call it tiny because it truly is. Everything I had could fit in half of most peoples dish cabinet. It took up less than two square feet of space.

After double checking all boxes and cans I had, I discovered I was already eating products that were God given. Perhaps not in their original form as Hal chose to eat but healthy they are. My meager pantry held 2 cans of green Chile and lime refried beans; 1 can of tomato paste and one can of diced tomatoes, none of which had any additives. There was organic chicken broth, and two cans of Dole pineapple chunks in pineapple juice, which I promptly drained and froze in individual serving bags for my favorite pineapple smoothie.

As far as boxes went I had 2 boxes of penne whole grain pasta; 1 box of Oat Bran; 1 box of Multi Grain cereal and 1 of Kashi Autumn Wheat cereal. In my refrigerator you will find various types of cheeses, massive amounts of veggies and fruit along with my coveted milk.

So are these exceptions to the rule or do we again re-invent the wheel and soak beans overnight only to boil them, mash them and re-fry them ourselves? Do we make pasta from scratch each time we have a yen for Italian or do we use take from the arsenal provided by our nearest healthy green grocer?

I say it’s already been invented, so why not use the wheel for the purpose of improvement. By all means eat your favorites that are in the cans; the boxes;the bags, and I know it's painful to hear, but read labels. That is what I find myself doing now each time I walk down an aisle and reach for something I want. Like the coffee creamer I love so much. I won’t buy that anymore and although I certainly prefer the dessert tasting result of those sweet drinkable confections, I realize after doing a bit more research that even if they do contain preservatives, they will only, in the end, destroy the body.

So now that I have this new found knowledge, what do I do with it? If I know I am already eating fairly healthy why am I obese? Psychologists may establish that I am addicted or perhaps even obsessed with food. Let’s look at those options. Am I enslaved to the routine of food because it has become psychologically or physically habit-forming? Am I addicted to such an extent that its cessation will cause severe trauma?

Or are my thoughts and feelings dominated by food so much so, that I eat just because the billboard for Marie Callender's turkey pot pie is luring me even if I'm not hungry? After all inside me lives a skinny woman crying to get out. But I can usually shut her up with chocolate. Consequently, if I kept quiet and let that skinny woman talk, what would she say?

I believe she would confess that almost three decades ago, my spirit of adventure was reduced to rubble by a traumatic series of violent acts. After salvaging what was left of my persona from what should have been my demise, I made the conscious decision that I never again wanted to be attractive to men. Within a year I had gained 100 pounds.

I can not tell you the exact day I realized that the answer isn’t in what I am eating that is keeping me this size. The answer is what’s eating me.

At some point though, in these last few months, I took a good long look at my weight fluctuations and how they came about. I would loose a large amount of weight and begin to feel good about myself. I’d begin looking in the mirror again without sticking out my tongue. And then someone would say “Hey you’re looking great,” and the old fears would come back, and the invisible force field of my weight would no longer be able to keep out the monsters that have kept me victim for more than half my life.

Over this last week, I have blogged about coffee, beef, Jewish Penicillin, Julia Child’s French cuisine, chocolate, and being honestly willing to share the good with the bad. Although it was the Paulie pants that opened my eyes, each of these items are the first “exceptions to the rule” and the beginning of living a healthy lifestyle.

So with the few exceptions of the exceptions, we will continue to learn to live each week, with no bag; no box; no cans and most of all, no more victim.

If you’ve liked what you’ve read, I invite you to become one of my followers and maybe even share it with someone whose lives have been touched by an act of violence. They may need to know they are not alone.

Julie, Julia & Audrey

With all the hype about the new sensation Julie & Julia, about a month before the movie came out, I began scouring the internet for anything I could find on Julia Child. My findings not only had me falling in love with this Amazon of a woman, but it had me realizing I wasn't so very different from the great American French Chef herself.

Although I am excellent at what I do, my cooking falls short of Julia’s. Or does it? Now don’t get your knickerbockers in an uproar. I am not saying that I am superior to the great Queen of Cuisine. I do not feel worthy of touching the hem of her signature navy blue skirt. However…the biggest difference between many great chefs and Julia is as she would say “the courage of your convictions”.

My daughter and I, as well as half of Beaverton, went to see the new movie Julie & Julia on opening day. We both found the movie absolutely delightful and, as were all seated in the audience; amongst the sound of grumbling stomachs; ooohs and aaahhhs; and ‘I’m getting hugry’s’, we found ourselves salivating over the visually presented feast.

It was fascinating to watch the famed Julia Child go from gourmand to gourmet. We wept at her tragedies, and laughed at her culinary faux pas. We, as did everyone else in the world, drooled over her gastronomic masterpieces. And we both commiserated with Julie Powell as she lay weeping on the floor after dropping her well stuffed capon on the floor, remembering a turkey dinner or two that met with the same fate.

After deciding the movie was a keeper (meaning it was one that would become a part of my limited video library when available) we both decided Julia Child’s book ‘Mastering the Art of French Cooking’ would be a book worth buying. Dream on.

Being the internet addict that I am, I did some research and was blown away to discover that used copies of the book were selling for as much as $125.00. Although I know it happens all the time, it still amazes me to find people taking advantage of the success or tragedy of others, but…I’ll leave those thoughts for another day. For today I will say I did unearth copies of the book that could be ordered for much less than $125.00 however there would be a bit of a wait for its delivery.

So…while waiting for Barnes and Noble to announce our long awaited find has arrived at our local location, I thought I’d check the library. In all of Washington county there are 3 copies and 59 people in line to borrow the in demand book. If I am doing the math correctly at 3 weeks per library loan, my turn on that long awaited list would come up sometime around Christmas, 2011.

I sighed with disappointment of course, and as I continued my web search I found that others who had seen the movie, thought just as my daughter and I. If Julie Powell can do it so can we! We all, even world renowned chefs, want to cook like Julia!

Somewhere in the back of my little pea brain I thought I remembered Julia being huge. Well she was. She was 6 feet 2 inches. But she was also slender and carried her weight well, even with all of that butter and cream! I think it was her odd way of moving and her deep unusual voice that gave us the impression she was different than she truly was.

So where are the similarities between Julia and me?

Julia believed that people have become so fearful of elevated cholesterol levels, and other problems of vigor, that they have become obsessed in eliminating butter, cream and salt, which she considered essential ingredients for good quality cooking. She loved food and wasn't afraid of it. Neither am I.

“People are so fearful of what they eat,” Mrs. Child has said, ''they are no longer enjoying food the way they once did, and the dinner table is becoming a trap rather than a pleasure. We should enjoy food and have fun. It is one of the simplest and nicest pleasures in life.''

''In the old days, there was a great deal of exaggeration with cream and butter,'' Mrs. Child said. ''And it was delicious,'' she quickly added with a hearty laugh. Today, if you know how to cook, it is easy enough to make a sauce and swish using only a tiny bit of butter,'' Mrs. Child said. ''Those new sauces, made out of a puree of vegetables, are pretty boring. I like food to taste the way it should. You should enjoy every mouthful.”

I share those same beliefs as does the whole of France.

Julia’s trite eccentric sense of humor is much like mine, using dancing chickens; sweeping a dropped omelet from the counter back into the pan, instructing us never to apologize for our culinary mistakes; and of course there is her signature ‘when you’re alone in the kitchen, whose to see?’.

Julia was true to herself and if you didn’t like who she was, well…that’s your problem. She had this go get ‘em personality with this larger than life Joie de vivre. It wasn't that she could do no wrong, but rather she made making mistakes seem like fun. In front of a live audience, she once dropped an entire leg of lamb on the floor and chuckled about it. She failed to carve a suckling pig even while using a hack saw; She un-molded her mousse with a splat. The more she erred, the more the viewers loved and trusted her. Thus Julia gave us permission to do what we were already secretly doing…screwing up! I do that all the time! Screw up I mean. I haven't had too much occasion to saw a suckling pig.

Julia also had the courage and conviction, in mid-life, to go to the most famed culinary institute in the world and even though every one scoffed, no matter what hurtles she had to leap over, she honed her craft as no one else could have or has done since. I mean even the great Emeril Lagasse emulates the great Julia.

And that is where our similarities end. You see, everything I ever wanted to know about cooking I learned from Audrey Hepburn. How can you possibly learn about cooking from Audrey Hepburn you ask?

Do you remember the movie Sabrina? Yeah, I know. Who doesn't? Although if you really don’t, you may want to rent it, and if you haven’t seen it, well…I am so sorry you led such a deprived life. It too is a keeper! Now, if you watch it carefully you will discover that there are really only three things you will ever need to know about cooking.

1.) Any idiot can learn to cook
2.) You can make anything from almost nothing at all
3.) Don’t be afraid to experiment

No I am not nuts. Well, maybe I am actually, but not about this.

Take the scene when Sabrina is trying to learn to crack an egg. She’s the only one in the class who can’t seem to get it right. The cracked egg is oozing in between her fingers onto the floor and the chef is looking at her as if there is no hope. HE IS WRONG!

In just a little while we discover that not only is there hope, but you can make anything in the kitchen if you’re not afraid to try. Remember she tries to show off her newly found culinary skills by making something for Bogey out of just tuna and tomato juice. She wasn’t afraid to experiment and she made something out of almost nothing!

I did go to culinary school and dropped out after first term. I couldn’t wrap my head around paying $34,000.00 to learn proper presentation. Of course I never thought that there was anything else I could learn. I was already an excellent cook. In my arrogance, I had forgotten that I did not know how to de-bone a chicken or a fish. I can not make bread, or should I say patience is not in my vocabulary so having to wait for that yeast is like having to wait for the results of a test. Excruciating!

Anyway, here I am a wedding cake aficionado and I failed roses. Even though my wedding cakes are melt-in-your-mouth delicious, they are ugly as sin! But I did take Julia’s advice on never apologizing for them and that you can always cover your mistakes. I cover the fact that I suck at confection decorating by matching the brides bouquet. Whatever works!

In any case, as Julia desired with her first cookbook, my hopes are, by the end of this blog you too will be able to cook just about anything. Even if you are an idiot.

Julie & Julia
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNpZsL1W1Ho&feature=related

Never apologize. No excuses, no explanations
http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi77595161/

Courage of your convictions:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oeSgtWw7zEo&feature=related

The worlds most beautiful chicken
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q6Xopz0BpTc&NR=1

Meltdown
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmbUeswpiao&feature=channel