Do you like baba ganoush?

Mystery solved! I decided to run an analysis of my diet (yes, I am a dietitian).  I had been eating only 77g of carbohydrate each day! At that level, my brain was starving.  The brain can run on free fatty acids but much less efficiently.  Thus, I felt like I was living in a haze.  I increased my carbs to 100-150 g per day.  Surprise, surprise...I feel much better.  Word to the wise: unless you enjoy being grouchy, hungry, exhausted and foggy, make sure you eat at least 100g carbohydrate per day.  You can find carbs in non-bread sources, including fruits, vegetables, dairy or dairy replacements, and beans.

Despite that discovery, I have yet another challenge: my hands are not holding up well under all this handwashing.  I'm fairly sure my skin is down 3 layers.

If you look closely, you can see how swollen and red my knuckles have become.  I'm not sure if it's the soap we use at home, the agitation of scrubbing, or just being washed so often.  I'm trying to apply lotion after each washing to see if I just need some moisturizing.  If not, it will be time to experiment with less abrasive soaps!

My big success of the day came when my mom and dad came over for dinner.  (She's responsible for me not getting my "listen more than I talk" badge.  I go into 4-year-old chatter as soon as my mom is around. No matter how old I get, I think she needs and wants to hear every minuscule detail of my life.  To be honest, I want to go on believing that she really does need and want that.)  When she walked in, she complimented me on my "clean" and "relaxed" house!  Success! I do love the rewards I've garnished along the way.

Daily Reporting Table

Task	Completed!	Partially Complete	Not completed
Physical/Emotional Goals
2 ½ cups vegetables	X
Caloric intake < 1500/day	X
300 min/week moderate exercise	X
Sleep 8 hours per day			X
Complete a brain exercise daily	X
Clean hands per CDC guidelines	X
Professional Goals
8 hours focused work daily	X
Arrive at work before 8:30 am	X
Wear make-up and fashionable clothes	X
Leave work at work			X
Spiritual Goals
Read scriptures 10 minutes per day	X
Pray on my knees twice daily		X
Meditate 10 minutes daily	X
Parenting Goals
Absolutely no harsh treatment	X
If I say it, I have to do it immediately	X
Family meals (No TV, sitting at table)	X
One-on-one listening time	X
Limit screen time to 2 hrs or less	X
Read for 20 minutes daily	X
In their own beds by 8:30 pm	X
Home/Finance Goals
Stick to a strict budget	X
Clutter-free home	X
Social Goals
Listen more than I talk		X
Speak only positive ideas		X
Call someone on the phone	X

Score: 21.5/25 = 86%  Not bad!

For my own mental health, I am taking the weekends off.  Love my husband, but this much structure makes him crazy.  He wants a more spontaneous life.  Since he's only home on the weekends, I can indulge his wishes...except where bed time is concerned.  On that issue, I have become more than a little nit-picky.  It's just so nice to have some time to ourselves.

My last thought today is the reason for my cryptic title.  As I was watching The Taste (a.k.a. flavor by association), the guest chef asked the question in the title.  Most of the listeners nodded enthusiastically, but I noticed one who had obvious polite-face in place. Baba ganoush was NOT the menu item of choice for this contestant, but it was obvious that the social cues didn't allow a truthful response.

So, what's your baba ganoush? We live in a world where public shame has become the new morality.  What are you nodding politely about when you really have different ideas?  Even if you know what your baba ganoush is, what can be done about it?  In a world with so much shaming, is it even possible to be an authentic version of yourself?

Since I am friends with such a wide variety of people, my Facebook feed feels like ground zero for the culture wars.  I want to be a demilitarized zone, but I feel surrounded by baba ganoush.  I don't know what to do about it, so don't look for wisdom here.  Just a thought rambling around my brain.

Open Letter to the Car Vandal in Granada Hills

To Whomever chose to key my car yesterday:

Did you think you were screwing the "rich bitch" with the pristine Prius? Did you think that you were bringing me down a level? Or did you just think it was funny to damage the last nice thing I owned?

Do you know that my baby's crib was bought on severe discount and the bedding was an ebay purchase that barely held together through one wash? Do you know that most of his clothes will be hand-me-downs and that we keep a list of "necessity" baby items that are the only things we can buy? Did you know that I no longer get my hair done regularly and I've borrowed many maternity clothes? Did you know that every last dime that we have is poured into trying to keep us financially stable and find my husband a vocation in these times of nothingness?

Do you know that the car is parked because we can't afford to insure it beyond the basic package? Do you realize that I had to refinance it and now it has to sit there for years so that the warranty doesn't run out before it's paid off? Did you realize that sometimes, the only thing that helped me to walk through this time of financial frustration was to run my hand along that beautiful exterior and remember that all sacrifice has purpose and that there once were times of pretty things and plenty?

Probably not. I wouldn't expect anyone to know that. You probably didn't care, either. You just had a key and I had a beautiful Prius.

Thanks for ruining that for me.

Life's unjust

This woman's got three kids and I have none...

Beyond my personal bitterness, it's a good warning that just because the health food store says it's "good for you" doesn't mean it really is.

One morning over breakfast, Holly Paige looked at her daughter and realised
things weren't right. Lizzie should have been flourishing. Instead, her cheeks were pinched, she was small for her age, and although she had skinny arms and legs, her belly was big and swollen. When Lizzie smiled, Paige suddenly noticed her front teeth were pitted with holes."I was absolutely horrified," recalls Paige.

At the time, Paige was feeding them what she thought was the most nutritious diet possible. They had been raw vegans for three years, and ate plenty of fruit, vegetables, nuts, seeds, grains, soya and pulses, but no meat, fish or dairy. According to the raw-food doctrine, Lizzie and Bertie, then three and four-and-a-half respectively, should have been brimming with good health.

But Paige's mothering instinct was on the alert."I knew something was wrong," says Paige, 45. "They were two sizes behind in clothes. Of course, children come in all different shapes and sizes, but their growth seemed to be slowing further."

There were other oddities: "I remember going to the supermarket and buying butter for my older children. Lizzie, who had never had butter in her life, would grab the packet and gnaw into it," says Paige. "It was really disconcerting. I would be thinking, 'What is going on? Here is this purely fed child - why would she need to do this?' I was so brainwashed into thinking dairy products are bad for you."Finally, Paige
stumbled across the answer in an old vitamin book and she believes the family had symptoms of vitamin D and protein-deficiency. "I felt like such an idiot. I got the information from a book I'd had sitting around on my shelf for 20 years."The discovery brought a swift end to her experience of veganism. Despite taking a daily supplement that included vitamin D and B12, she and the children were suffering. Today, the family still mainly has a raw diet, but Paige includes butter, cheese, eggs and occasionally fish. "I had let malnutrition in through the back door in the name of health," says Paige.

- The Independent This article was originally published on page 9 of Cape Times
on June 18, 2008

With deep apologize to my immigrant ancestors...

Idaho is my home. The Dominican Republic holds my heart. London possesses my hopes and dreams. But LA pays the bills.

We have returned.

Bummer.

Stressed-out Sinuses

I used to carry my stress in my shoulders. As things got out of control, I hunch up in pain and walk around like Quasimodo.

Then I prayed that my shoulders would get relief.

God answered. My shoulders were relieved.

The stress moved into my sinus cavity.

Now, everytime life hits me, it hits me square in the head.

And I've learned a good lesson: what you got, may be better than what you could have got, so just bear it and use Motrin.

So, what's activated the stress-o-meter today? So sorry you asked...

Landing squarely in the right sinus cames a straight-out-of-pocket slider to the housing stress quadrant. A strong swing pops the ball into the realm of where to decide where to move 5 persons and 3 cats. Nope...easy out by first, second, and third basemen....no home-run for this round as 3 houses in a row turn down the application!

Our star has the ball mid-court. Generally, this would be an easy play. Excellent credit history in the 3rd quarter usually means plenty of openings for money transfer and an easy 1-2 dunk. However, the onset of Car Crash to his left and Therapy Bills on his right has the Center looking for a quick pass. Wells Fargo steps up - will a higher yet fixed interest rate with lower monthly payments lead to victory or create further divide between our team and Financial Security?! The shot clock begins its slow countdown...

The two teams face one another squarely. It's the Hospital Staff versus The Insurance Company in today's work-place standoff. The Insurance Company runs a sneaker play to discredit The Hospital Staff. The Hospital Staff counters with a Research-based run around the backside. The Hospital Staff remains in control of the ball but The Insurance Company's play has cost them confidence. Will they hold up under all this pressure?! In the meantime, The Refs have brought in Paris Hilton as an ambassador. The Hospital Staff calls a time out in utter disgust.

Now I'm going back to bed...because even the clicking of the computer keyboard makes me cringe and, as you can see, having that many sports announcers in your head at one time is bound to make you a little crabby...especially if it's the low-rate ones I've hired to do the job.

I should be reading Harry Potter...it's the perfect opportunity...but everyone tells me they cried straight through the book...and adding slobbery snot to this swelling in my head....no, thanks. Harry and his pals will have to wait.

Something Harry This Way Comes

It's finally time. I have to summon the courage to read the final installment of Harry Potter 7.

I've read the spoilers by Gabriel (who has won my CrackPot of the Year Award), the unheralded activist eager to save me from NeoPaganism just as Pope Benedict XV was announced as...yeah, I lost the strand, too, in his statement of purpose. Apparently, though, by telling me that JK Rowling makes some really weird plot choices, I'm supposed to cancel my pre-order (too late - Amazon already emailed to say they shipped it) and thus be saved from a fate worse than reading a bad ending and ridding myself of books #6 and #7. If only I had read his spoilers last April when I ordered the book....but, alas, I have drunk my fate much as all Harry Potter fans. Long live NeoPaganism!

I have a hard time believing the crazies who honestly think that Harry Potter has had any effect on religous behavior. It's so utterly absurd. Were they equally at-arms with Star Wars? What about Lord of the Rings? I must have missed all the Elven backlash. Ridiculous. Preposterous. Unbelievable. Insane. Now...where did I put my magic wand so that I can hex them all...oh, wait...it's fiction. Ever since The DaVinci Code destroyed my belief in Jesus Christ...oh, wait...that was fiction, too, right? Wow. We people sure don't think good since we doesn't knows the different in fiction and real-ish, eh? I gots go practice my sex worship and magicx now....shee-eesh. I am just as scared of internal militants as the external ones my President rants on and on about while overspending the coffers and draining dry public programs in order to "drive out terrorists" abroad. I'm sorry. I got off-topic. I was busy being blown about by every word of fiction. Must go learn magic. Alohomora! Damn. Office door still stubbornly shut. I'm a very bad Neo-Pagan...can't get anything right.

Anyway, happy reading to all fans. I have to admit that if the ending is as Gabriel predicts, I will likely be having a book-burning party for #6 and #7....although I might pull out the cute Ginny/Harry scenes before so doing.

P.S. Loved Harry Potter #5 movie. Best in the series. I'm glad it came out now so that I can pretend the whole series ends after #5. I'm just going to write "eventually, Harry faced the prophecy and destroyed Lord Voldemort" at the end of my #5 book so that I wrap up all those nasty loose ends.

Oh Foul Pager!

I've been having this rather interesting recurring dream over the past several weeks. The first time, I dreamed about this old, dilapidated hotel in the middle of a rather dangerous part of downtown. In the dream, I was wandering the halls, trying to imagine what the hotel had been during its glory days. Then I woke up.

The dream has returned many times, starting at the same entry way of the hotel, but it's turned into quite the story! There's a woman and her business partner who have purchased the hotel for renovation. I really enjoy their love of this old building. Over time, it's begun to transform. The carpets were cleaned and rethreaded. The walls scrubbed and polished (maple - so gorgeous!). Occasionally, the woman and man make strange choices - I really don't think the "group bathroom" concept will fly as a lower-priced alternative to supplement the pricey suites, but whatever - I'm just an observer.

Last night, the story formed a more cohesive plot. The ballroom had been completely restored and the dream opened on the woman, dressed in work clothes, finishing up a fine scrubbing of a beautiful bar. She looked out the freshly cleaned glass and seemed very proud of all she had accomplished. The man was busy in the corner, overseeing the lifting of a chandelier. I was impressed by the change in the hotel.

The woman exited the ballroom and ran into the first tenants of this building - the man's sister and her fiancee. They discussed the changes in the hotel. Then a very polite and pretty woman entered, crossed the hall, and flirted with the man. She seemed very sweet, natural and exactly the kind of woman that many men dream to find.

My main point of view, I can't really call her a protagonist, seemed annoyed but not jealous about the interaction. I supposed she considered the new woman a distraction, not a rival. Then she went to a back hall - where much of the work has been focused. It's a long hallway that used to serve as a coal port, but now serves no function. The man and woman have spent much of my dream time discussing this hallway.

She was hidden as the rest of the cast wandered the more evident parts of the hotel. She overheard something interesting - the man was planning a party in her ballroom! At first, she was excited to picture all the people enjoying her hard work. Then she overheard something more puzzling - they were planning the sister's wedding and the invitations had already been sent...this hardworking woman had not been invited to, nor even informed about, the culminating event of her work in the hotel's transformation.

She was understandably livid. She rushed out of the coal port to confront the man.

Then, in a place far from the hotel and a time called reality, my beeper sounded where it lie in the train bag, awaiting the light of morning.

My beeper's number is surprisingly close to the overnight on-call resident's beeper. I get paged frequently in dead of night. This was no different. I made the requisite response and then rushed off to bed, hoping to recapture the action.

No go. All I saw were improvements on the hallway.

Drat! You beeper! I've threatened repeatedly to toss you off a bridge....and today, your days are very numbered, you foul-tempered, evil-sounding, dream-shattering fiend!

I. Am. Exhausted.

Things I mistakenly believed before I spent 6 hours filming this weekend:

1. It's fun to be on set.
Truth: It's as much fun as anything can be when you spend 6 hours not blinking under blinding light while strangers push your breasts around and remind you to exaggerate your facial expressions without modulating your vocal tone. Try doing that 10 times fast. No. Really. Do that 10 times fast and then repeat it almost as fast but with a little less energy but more emotion. Ok. Good try. Now, take 2.

2. Movie stars should go to rehab so they don't take crack.
Truth: Speed, crack, anything at all with pep - it's the most necessary thing in the world. I get it, Lindsay. I really do. I've never been so worn out - and, okay, take 3. What? You want MORE energy? Okay....someone...quick...down the street, guy in trenchcoat, slip him a hundred and I'll be ready to go again...

3. Film stars don't ever eat.
Truth: Their energy expenditure is so freakin' high that they CAN eat! I lost 5 pounds sitting. Of course, I only had 2 15-minute breaks in 6 hours where I ate 3 bites of salad, 3 chips, and a handful of trail mix. Yeah - it's still eating disorder territory, but I DID eat...

4. Making movies is easy work.
Truth: Ha ha. I'm a naturally hard worker, but I have never worked that hard in my whole life. I spent over an hour just standing on set as my own stand-in (must demand better conditions next shoot). I stood. They changed colors and inverted colors and moved lights. Then we repeated the process for sound. Finally, we started the interview process. Then we play-acted my job. Over and over again. It was the most grueling day of my life.

My pay for the day? $200
Out of pocket expense? 15 hours of prep work
Short work and easy money for fulfilling a childhood dream.

And now I've got to go to bed.

A Dietitian Exchange

Me: *grimace* Blech. Blah. Blech.

Other dietitian: What are you eating?

Me: *gulp* Blech! Yogurt.

OD: Again? You hate yogurt.

Me: *gulp* *gag* Yeah. But it's good for me.

OD: Oh. Have you tried other flavors?

Me: *gulp* Thank God. Last bite. I really hate all flavors of yogurt.

2 days later

Me: *bite* *chew* *chew* Blech! *surreptitiously spits in garbage can*

OD: Yogurt again?!

Me: No. Carrots. Blech. I hate raw carrots. Disgusting.

OD: Why do you eat them?

Me: They're good for me.

OD: Yogurt. Carrots. Spinach. Soy. Salad. Fish. Is there a single healthy food you like?

Me: *grand pause with icky-blech face as I ponder*

OD: Okay - in a perfect world - what foods would be nourishing for you?

Me: *smiles* *tosses carrots in trash* Ice cream. Chocolate. Cheese. Steak. Garlic bread.

OD: *shakes head* Hm. Guess we don't have to worry about your bones. What about cookies and chips?

Me: Nah. We'll still need some junk food so we can feel naughty.

OD: Was that a joke? Dietitians don't tell jokes. *laughs*

Me: *solemn face* Of course not. We're too busy eating disgusting but healthy food.

OD: *answers phone while laughing*

It Was Tender Until the Baby Almost Died

Last Saturday, we celebrated the births of my brother and his daughter. Like many families, we mistakenly believed the zoo to be an innocuous yet fun event for toddlers and their fathers.

Until we saw the zebra hung like a....well, like a horse....but that's a story best left to the annals of time. This story is about gorillas. Horrible, baby-killing gorillas.

If you look closely at the picture above, the loving gorilla mommy is cradling her infant. She was breastfeeding it, of course, and I took a picture to use if I ever get a chance to work in lactation again. But not long after i took this shot....

The baby-killing began.....

We were oohing and aaahing at the little family scene when one of the other baby-less gorillas came into view. She walked over to the mama gorilla and whacked her on the head. The audience took a collective step backwards. Then she grabbed the mama by the hair. The audience grew uncomfortable.

Then she grabbed the baby by the head.

Never let it be said that humans don't care about babies. The entire audience screamed. We were stuck behind the glass as the two gorillas fought over the baby, who looked as if it were about to meet its doom. I started to cover the eyes of my niece and nephew. I think they should save their first view of baby-killing for the evening news or the Internet - since beheading has gone mainstream, I'm sure baby-killing isn't far behind.

"Oh, look!" I heard shouted from somewhere. I had visions of the zookeeper dropping down by helicopter to stun-gun the still-struggling gorillas.

Instead, a daddy had come to the rescue.

The silverback streaked across the enclosure to bully the attacking gorilla away. The baby dropped to the ground, soon to be recovered by the mama gorilla, who sat rocking and caressing her baby. The silverback kept the attacker cornered for several minutes. Then he retreated to a safe distance to continue to watch.

Polo Dude tells me that infanticide is common among gorillas. I don't know about that. What I do know is that the entire scene was both terribly animal and remarkably human.

And I'm not so sure I'm ever taking children to a zoo again....