Veganchick has her Clif bars packed and trail mix ready. She will be taking a much needed trip south for a couple of weeks to relax, rejuvenate, and rethink. No blog posts during that time, but will hop right back into it when the Prius pulls itself back into the garage after a job well done. Leaving, though, with a final thought for what has been a fairly productive year:
People who understand that their purpose is service to others live lives of abundance. Those who do not just live their lives.---------Larry Winget in Shut Up, Stop Whining, & Get a Life
This is my problem with the holidays: People do things they don't normally do in the name of good will and then they wait an entire year before they do it again. They donate food to the needy, toys to the poor, clothing and blankets and coats to those who have none. They smile at strangers and toss out friendly greetings, spend extra time with family and friends and throw a little extra in the plate at church. They treat customers and co-workers as if these people have feelings and needs and as if they count for something other than to dump the demands of the day on.
Then comes January and the wait begins. An entire year will pass before these people will perform these behaviors again. Because, you know, it's not the holidays. We don't have to be nice or considerate or giving except for during the holidays. I think that if a person does something once, they could do it twice, or three times, or eighty. I've heard that it takes thirty days to make something a habit. I've also heard that it takes twenty. I think the number is not as important as the fact that to make something a habit you just have to do it, and then do it again, and then do it again until you can't remember not doing it.
Likewise, January will be flooded with gym-goers and non-smokers and ex-nail-biters and all other sorts of resolution makers. These nail-biting, chain smoking, health nut wannabes will inevitably resort back to sneaking the cookies when they think no one is looking and spending their evenings with the tv remote. This is the deal: How can we possibly care for others, or spread good will even, when we can't even take the time to care for ourselves? Not taking care of ourselves is actually a very selfish act.
When I was heavy, I was tired and crabby and not much fun. The last thing I wanted to do was run around the yard with the kids or take a long walk along the beach with my husband. I was not full of cheer and good will. Well, yes, I was, but not to the degree that I am now that I am fit, fit physically and mentally. Now that I have taken the time to create new habits (like only eating half the pizza, not the entire pie!) I have energy and speed and interest in doing things for others. I have interest in doing things other than eating and sleeping and complaining that I need to get my act together and do something about my life. Don't get me wrong, I still need to get my act together and do something about my life, but in a different way.
So this is what I think: I think that good will and cheer needs to begin at home, practicing it on ourselves until it becomes a habit. We need to be kind to ourselves and care for ourselves and give to ourselves until we can't remember when we didn't do this. We need to throw a little extra in the plate. When we feel good about who we are, we can begin to feel good about others. We will be in a place both physically and mentally to fully give all that we have inside. We will feel capable of spreading good will and cheer not just one month at the end of the year, but every month, every day.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
Vegan-isms
• If preservatives make food look great forever, why can’t they do the same for people?
• What do vegans say when they get their picture taken? (Certainly not cheese!)
• What if Santa were vegan?
• I think the soy industry should start a “got soymilk?” campaign
• Why are people so against babies nursing past one year and yet so ok with a forty-six year old man drinking what came from a mother cow’s breast?
• If we know that a plant-based diet reduces the risk of heart disease, type II diabetes and certain types of cancers, why don’t we all eat this way?
• If vegans are physically healthier, are they also mentally healthier?
• Am I repeating myself?
• What if we lived in a vegan world? What if?
• How can the children be the future if this is the first generation, due to obesity related diseases, that might not outlive its parents?
• Is obese vegan an oxymoron?
• Switching to a vegan diet saves the lives of about 100 animals per year. Most people would not personally kill 100 animals, but they are totally ok with someone else doing it so they can enjoy a barbecue with the fam.
• But I only eat fish……………..Do this, then---imagine 100 fish, or fifty even. Now picture them dead.
• Q: Why did the tofu cross the road? A: To prove he wasn’t chicken.
• Can you cry over spilt soymilk?
• Why would anyone want to nourish themselves with something that was squeezed out of a chicken’s unmentionable parts?
• Likewise, why do people “feast” on dead birds with nuts and fruit shoved up its privates?
• Can my blog thoughts ever be cheesy?
• What do vegans say when they get their picture taken? (Certainly not cheese!)
• What if Santa were vegan?
• I think the soy industry should start a “got soymilk?” campaign
• Why are people so against babies nursing past one year and yet so ok with a forty-six year old man drinking what came from a mother cow’s breast?
• If we know that a plant-based diet reduces the risk of heart disease, type II diabetes and certain types of cancers, why don’t we all eat this way?
• If vegans are physically healthier, are they also mentally healthier?
• Am I repeating myself?
• What if we lived in a vegan world? What if?
• How can the children be the future if this is the first generation, due to obesity related diseases, that might not outlive its parents?
• Is obese vegan an oxymoron?
• Switching to a vegan diet saves the lives of about 100 animals per year. Most people would not personally kill 100 animals, but they are totally ok with someone else doing it so they can enjoy a barbecue with the fam.
• But I only eat fish……………..Do this, then---imagine 100 fish, or fifty even. Now picture them dead.
• Q: Why did the tofu cross the road? A: To prove he wasn’t chicken.
• Can you cry over spilt soymilk?
• Why would anyone want to nourish themselves with something that was squeezed out of a chicken’s unmentionable parts?
• Likewise, why do people “feast” on dead birds with nuts and fruit shoved up its privates?
• Can my blog thoughts ever be cheesy?
Friday, December 18, 2009
Points to Ponder
No matter what, I want to continue living with the awareness that I will die.
Without that, I am not alive.
That is what makes the life I have now possible.
-----Banana Yoshimoto
My dad died of a brain tumor at fifty-two. I am forty-six. You might think I am a bit beside myself right now. You might imagine I am walking around my house knocking on wood, double crossing my fingers, throwing salt over my left shoulder, and avoiding every black cat I see. I am not. His death, if anything, has proved a big nasty dose of reality. You know, the kind you don't want to take at all, so you smell it first and then you swallow fast and scrunch every muscle in your face after and do a quick "blech" then it's over before you even knew it began. Death happens. It is, after all, a side effect of birth.
And this is it. I know that I will die simply because I was born. And I know that I will die at some point that I do not get to choose, unless I do and let's not go there. I may have a good fifty years. I may have until tomorrow afternoon. This is reality. I can, if I choose, ignore the fact and pretend that death will happen for others but not for me. Sometimes, if I am confessing, I like this option because the idea of not being alive frankly scares the hell out of me. I can also, if I am more grown-up about the whole thing, own this idea that my life is finite. I am choosing, though it makes me want to hurl buckets, the latter. Life is short. I will live it while I am here.
On that note I have some thoughts in my head that don’t really fit an essay on their own, ideas on life and living and love and stuff like that. I hope you find them interesting or helpful or entertaining in some strange way. Really, I just need to share.
• I am visiting my family, not the dead bird.----As much as it bothers me to watch people fork lifeless animals into their bodies in the name of keeping themselves fit, I am well aware of the fact that the relationship I have with my mother or my sisters is more important than the life of any animal, living or dead.
• Am I being who I am or who I think I’m supposed to be?----I can spend my time living out every bit of what’s inside me or I can spend my time trying to please others. I have learned that others are not always pleased even when you are working hard to please them. Some people, in fact, are rarely pleased.I feel so much more energized and exhilarated when I am using the gifts I have been given to do the things I think I am supposed to do with them. Sort of like this quote by Erma Bombeck: "When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left and could say, 'I used everything you gave me.'"
• Am I keeping myself all to myself or am I sharing?---I can't bake pie for shit. When I find someone who spends all afternoon cutting up just-picked apples and rolling out a homemade crust, I make sure I stick around, just in case. Likewise, I enjoy a good tune. Can't carry one, but I enjoy the feel of the music.I like the way it takes me off to a different place, the way it makes me forget whatever it was that was causing me such grief the minute before, the way it works itself all through my insides and leaves me with that I'm-sorry-what-did-you-say life is good sort of feeling. My life is richer because these people can do things that I cannot. And they are choosing to share. Am I doing my part to make the lives of others equally rich?
• Do I take time each day to dance on the furniture?---Some of my favorite times when my kids were little were when we would crank up the Raffi tunes and bounce around on the living room sofa, belting out Knees Up Mother Brown and Baby Beluga at volumes guaranteed to warrant a call from the neighbors. I have lost this sense of fun somewhat as my children have grown. My life is serious. It is work. There are bills and dishes and college visits and house repairs. I try to keep perspective. Work is good, but life is short. I try to remember to take time out each day to be silly and loud and to shake my booty when the music calls.
I don't know for certain that living my life to the fullest really matters in the grand scheme of things. I don't really even know for certain that there is a grand scheme of things. What I do know is that living this way feels good and right and so much more fun and is ultimately what I choose to do until the day I cannot.
Without that, I am not alive.
That is what makes the life I have now possible.
-----Banana Yoshimoto
My dad died of a brain tumor at fifty-two. I am forty-six. You might think I am a bit beside myself right now. You might imagine I am walking around my house knocking on wood, double crossing my fingers, throwing salt over my left shoulder, and avoiding every black cat I see. I am not. His death, if anything, has proved a big nasty dose of reality. You know, the kind you don't want to take at all, so you smell it first and then you swallow fast and scrunch every muscle in your face after and do a quick "blech" then it's over before you even knew it began. Death happens. It is, after all, a side effect of birth.
And this is it. I know that I will die simply because I was born. And I know that I will die at some point that I do not get to choose, unless I do and let's not go there. I may have a good fifty years. I may have until tomorrow afternoon. This is reality. I can, if I choose, ignore the fact and pretend that death will happen for others but not for me. Sometimes, if I am confessing, I like this option because the idea of not being alive frankly scares the hell out of me. I can also, if I am more grown-up about the whole thing, own this idea that my life is finite. I am choosing, though it makes me want to hurl buckets, the latter. Life is short. I will live it while I am here.
On that note I have some thoughts in my head that don’t really fit an essay on their own, ideas on life and living and love and stuff like that. I hope you find them interesting or helpful or entertaining in some strange way. Really, I just need to share.
• I am visiting my family, not the dead bird.----As much as it bothers me to watch people fork lifeless animals into their bodies in the name of keeping themselves fit, I am well aware of the fact that the relationship I have with my mother or my sisters is more important than the life of any animal, living or dead.
• Am I being who I am or who I think I’m supposed to be?----I can spend my time living out every bit of what’s inside me or I can spend my time trying to please others. I have learned that others are not always pleased even when you are working hard to please them. Some people, in fact, are rarely pleased.I feel so much more energized and exhilarated when I am using the gifts I have been given to do the things I think I am supposed to do with them. Sort of like this quote by Erma Bombeck: "When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left and could say, 'I used everything you gave me.'"
• Am I keeping myself all to myself or am I sharing?---I can't bake pie for shit. When I find someone who spends all afternoon cutting up just-picked apples and rolling out a homemade crust, I make sure I stick around, just in case. Likewise, I enjoy a good tune. Can't carry one, but I enjoy the feel of the music.I like the way it takes me off to a different place, the way it makes me forget whatever it was that was causing me such grief the minute before, the way it works itself all through my insides and leaves me with that I'm-sorry-what-did-you-say life is good sort of feeling. My life is richer because these people can do things that I cannot. And they are choosing to share. Am I doing my part to make the lives of others equally rich?
• Do I take time each day to dance on the furniture?---Some of my favorite times when my kids were little were when we would crank up the Raffi tunes and bounce around on the living room sofa, belting out Knees Up Mother Brown and Baby Beluga at volumes guaranteed to warrant a call from the neighbors. I have lost this sense of fun somewhat as my children have grown. My life is serious. It is work. There are bills and dishes and college visits and house repairs. I try to keep perspective. Work is good, but life is short. I try to remember to take time out each day to be silly and loud and to shake my booty when the music calls.
I don't know for certain that living my life to the fullest really matters in the grand scheme of things. I don't really even know for certain that there is a grand scheme of things. What I do know is that living this way feels good and right and so much more fun and is ultimately what I choose to do until the day I cannot.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Me and My Big "But"
I am reading a book. This, I’m sure, is no big surprise. I am, after all, a self-proclaimed book nerd. And I don’t just keep one story going either. I usually have dog-eared pages in three or four at a time. Not that I finish all those. Right now I am reading Move a Little, Lose a Lot by James A. Levine. I like it. The premise is that we have become a nation of sitters. We, according to Levine, have sitting disease. Our bodies are meant to move. They were made to walk and bend and jump and run. They were made to work. Right now, however, I am not moving much. In fact, I am sitting on the runway waiting to take off, but am facing one complication after another and have no clue how long I will be ripping into teeny bags of pretzels and peanuts before I actually take flight. I want to take care of myself, my weight, my health and well-being. I do. But……….
We don’t need huge chunks of time, however, Levine suggests, in order to care for ourselves. We don’t need a gym membership, the right shoes, workout clothes, or yoga, pilates, tai chi, tae bo, or zumba classes. We just need to get up off our back ends. We need to raise our butts from our chairs. We need to move, every day, all day, in even the smallest of ways---knitting, walking to the mailbox, making dinner from scratch instead of cruising through the drive-thru, cleaning out the garage, playing Frisbee with the kids.
But my world is crazy right now. Can I remind you of the term crazy busy? I detest that term. The people who use it do so almost as a manner of bragging. Oh, no thank you to that social invitation, my life is crazy busy right now. Exercise? Not a chance. I am just crazy busy right now. Time for myself? Like when would that happen? I am so crazy busy. I’m thinking that if anyone is that crazy busy, they are ignoring what is most important, their health. Yes, I am so crazy busy that I am not eating right or taking time for a thirty minute walk or spending a few minutes of relaxing down time with my spouse. I am so crazy busy, in fact, that if I don’t knock it off soon I will be crazy sick. Or crazy insane.
I am writing from this place right now. I am crazy busy. And it is making me crazy stressed. My life has lost its fun.
There is a difference between an excuse and a reason. An excuse, according to the all wise dictionary.com is a release from an obligation. A reason, on the other hand, is a way of justifying or explaining an action. An excuse says I know I should do this, but……….A reason says I should do this and this is why.
For example, I know I should exercise/eat right/take care of myself right now, but…….
• I have not one second of time
• I am playing Single Claus (shopping/wrapping/list making/….) to my four kids
• My husband’s work is in a very negative place right now
• My husband’s workaholic tendencies at the office are putting more pressure on me as far as chores around the house
• I am planning an out of town family visit
• I am planning a big family vacation
• I didn’t get the classes I wanted next term
• I am exhausted
• I am forty-six years old and don’t know what I want to do with my life
If I’m not careful, my big but is going to turn into a big butt.
It is exactly because of these excuses, however, that I need to get busy and move it, move it. I need to turn my excuses for not exercising into reasons for getting back on my feet. Exercise not only begets more exercise, it brings the brain back to that happy place. It calms and settles and lifts the stress and depression. This is probably not a bad thing for a mother of four who is about to take on the town of Portage, making tomorrow’s headlines today.
The airlines often instruct parents, in case of emergency, to put on their own oxygen masks before fixing their children’s masks. For anyone who has ever given birth, given seed for such, or given years of their life in raising the product of, you know this goes against every instinct that is within your parenting soul. If the plane is going down, it is my child who will survive, not me. However, the airlines will politely suggest that the parent cannot save the child without first making certain that they themselves don’t die in the process.
Sort of like the bank.
My very first job was at sixteen. I was an Avon lady. I was actually too young for a route of my own so my mother was the front woman. The business was in her name. She handled any correspondence from the company. She, to all to whom it mattered, was the owner of this lipstick and rouge peddling business. Except that she wasn’t. I ordered the product. I made the house calls. I took year-end inventory. I managed the checking account. I quickly learned that in order for me to have spending money, or profit, I must first make deposits. If I neglected to put money into the account, then I certainly could not pull anything from the account.
Sort of like my physical and mental health.
I function in this place of assuming that my body and my mind will perform daily heroic acts for me. They will allow me to give and to encourage and to nurture and to love. But I wonder, have I made the deposits necessary to take out those needs? Have I put on my own oxygen mask? Have I given to and encouraged and nurtured and loved myself? Have I taken a few minutes from a hectic day for a short walk in the woods? Have I enjoyed a movie with a friend or even just taken myself out for a nice lunch? Have I simply inhaled a little more deeply and told everybody else to wait because right now Mom comes first, right now it is all about me?
The answer is no. I have not done this. I am, in fact, overdrawn as far as my emotional bank account goes. I have written checks that I cannot possibly cover. So, if you will excuse, the blog will have to wait…………I am off to enjoy a little hydro-massage and a twenty minute tan followed by lunch with a dear old friend.
We don’t need huge chunks of time, however, Levine suggests, in order to care for ourselves. We don’t need a gym membership, the right shoes, workout clothes, or yoga, pilates, tai chi, tae bo, or zumba classes. We just need to get up off our back ends. We need to raise our butts from our chairs. We need to move, every day, all day, in even the smallest of ways---knitting, walking to the mailbox, making dinner from scratch instead of cruising through the drive-thru, cleaning out the garage, playing Frisbee with the kids.
But my world is crazy right now. Can I remind you of the term crazy busy? I detest that term. The people who use it do so almost as a manner of bragging. Oh, no thank you to that social invitation, my life is crazy busy right now. Exercise? Not a chance. I am just crazy busy right now. Time for myself? Like when would that happen? I am so crazy busy. I’m thinking that if anyone is that crazy busy, they are ignoring what is most important, their health. Yes, I am so crazy busy that I am not eating right or taking time for a thirty minute walk or spending a few minutes of relaxing down time with my spouse. I am so crazy busy, in fact, that if I don’t knock it off soon I will be crazy sick. Or crazy insane.
I am writing from this place right now. I am crazy busy. And it is making me crazy stressed. My life has lost its fun.
There is a difference between an excuse and a reason. An excuse, according to the all wise dictionary.com is a release from an obligation. A reason, on the other hand, is a way of justifying or explaining an action. An excuse says I know I should do this, but……….A reason says I should do this and this is why.
For example, I know I should exercise/eat right/take care of myself right now, but…….
• I have not one second of time
• I am playing Single Claus (shopping/wrapping/list making/….) to my four kids
• My husband’s work is in a very negative place right now
• My husband’s workaholic tendencies at the office are putting more pressure on me as far as chores around the house
• I am planning an out of town family visit
• I am planning a big family vacation
• I didn’t get the classes I wanted next term
• I am exhausted
• I am forty-six years old and don’t know what I want to do with my life
If I’m not careful, my big but is going to turn into a big butt.
It is exactly because of these excuses, however, that I need to get busy and move it, move it. I need to turn my excuses for not exercising into reasons for getting back on my feet. Exercise not only begets more exercise, it brings the brain back to that happy place. It calms and settles and lifts the stress and depression. This is probably not a bad thing for a mother of four who is about to take on the town of Portage, making tomorrow’s headlines today.
The airlines often instruct parents, in case of emergency, to put on their own oxygen masks before fixing their children’s masks. For anyone who has ever given birth, given seed for such, or given years of their life in raising the product of, you know this goes against every instinct that is within your parenting soul. If the plane is going down, it is my child who will survive, not me. However, the airlines will politely suggest that the parent cannot save the child without first making certain that they themselves don’t die in the process.
Sort of like the bank.
My very first job was at sixteen. I was an Avon lady. I was actually too young for a route of my own so my mother was the front woman. The business was in her name. She handled any correspondence from the company. She, to all to whom it mattered, was the owner of this lipstick and rouge peddling business. Except that she wasn’t. I ordered the product. I made the house calls. I took year-end inventory. I managed the checking account. I quickly learned that in order for me to have spending money, or profit, I must first make deposits. If I neglected to put money into the account, then I certainly could not pull anything from the account.
Sort of like my physical and mental health.
I function in this place of assuming that my body and my mind will perform daily heroic acts for me. They will allow me to give and to encourage and to nurture and to love. But I wonder, have I made the deposits necessary to take out those needs? Have I put on my own oxygen mask? Have I given to and encouraged and nurtured and loved myself? Have I taken a few minutes from a hectic day for a short walk in the woods? Have I enjoyed a movie with a friend or even just taken myself out for a nice lunch? Have I simply inhaled a little more deeply and told everybody else to wait because right now Mom comes first, right now it is all about me?
The answer is no. I have not done this. I am, in fact, overdrawn as far as my emotional bank account goes. I have written checks that I cannot possibly cover. So, if you will excuse, the blog will have to wait…………I am off to enjoy a little hydro-massage and a twenty minute tan followed by lunch with a dear old friend.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Menu Ideas
Taking a little break from my usual essay post. I have had a request. A friend who is interested in making the jump from lacto-ovo to vegan has asked if I could please post some dinner ideas. Breakfast is straightforward—oatmeal, cold cereal, toast with nut butter, fruit. A salad or soup or some dinner leftovers will usually do for lunch. But dinner? She is blowing circuits in her brain trying to come up with enough ideas to avoid boredom and the inevitable switch back to eggs and dairy.
So, to help a friend, and even you diehard vegans who just need a bit of change, I have provided a week’s worth of menus. These are not just any dinners either. These are some of my favorites. Notice that many refer to recipes covered in some of the wonderful vegan cookbooks on the market today. I’ve included some of these collections in my “Vegan Books Worth the Money” section in my sidebar. I think it is absolutely imperative that you own a few good cookbooks when you are just starting out (and even after). As new books are published, I do try to update and move some of the “older” titles off the list. That does not mean I no longer like these books or find them worthy. I’m just trying to help out the newbies that show up on the shelves. And note the “Worth the Money” part. I don’t believe that every new vegan cookbook out there warrants me parting with my hard earned cash. The books I’ve listed are those that I would actually purchase, either for myself or for a gift or both.
Have fun with these menus. Get creative. Add to, take away, substitute some of your favorite veggies or sides.
Monday
“Chicken” Noodle Soup (Skinny Bitch in the Kitch-------better, in my opinion, than the “real” thing!)
Skillet Cornbread (Basic version----recipe from Veganomicon)
Side salad (baby spinach leaves with red onion slices, cucumber, cherry tomatoes, dressing)
Tuesday
Spaghetti with marinara (I use the jar stuff, homemade is good too) topped with veggie crumbles
Steamed broccoli or favorite veggies
Garlic bread (thinly slice a baguette, lay slices on baking sheet, drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with sea salt, rub with minced garlic, bake until “toasty crunchy”)
Wednesday
Breakfast for dinner using Isa Chandra Moskowitz’ Vegan Brunch (I love this book!!)
Basic Scrambled Tofu
Garlic Roasted Potatoes
Cranberry Orange Nut Muffins
(add some colorful fruit to this menu and you’re good to go!)
Thursday
Naked burritos (So easy!!! Top a bowl of brown rice with black or pinto beans. Throw on some corn and salsa and grab a fork!)
I have just this, but if you’d like something more, try chips and salsa on the side. You can even add dairy-free sour cream and shredded vegan cheese to your burrito or wrap it up in a tortilla shell.
Friday
Hurry Up Alfredo (from Vegan Yum Yum) over your favorite pasta
Big salad (romaine, baby spinach, green onions, broccoli, cucumber, cherry tomatoes, roasted sunflower seeds, dried cranberries, Italian dressing—I like Newman’s Oil & Vinegar because it’s more real, but you could just go with some olive oil and a little balsamic vinegar)
Saturday
Veggie subs
(Slice a nice crusty baguette and go crazy with the fillers---baby spinach, lettuce, sun-dried tomatoes, green peppers, cucumbers, black olives, artichokes, roasted red peppers, ……………)
Cut veggies with hummus (try carrot sticks, celery, whatever isn’t on the sub)
Sunday
Cincinnati chili (not sure if I’ve posted this before, but it’s a great standby)
Throw all of this in a crockpot and cook all day:
½ pound dry kidney beans (soaked overnight) or 2 cans dark red kidney beans, drained
2 -14 ½ oz. cans diced tomatoes (depending on how much chili I need, I may throw in another can)
1 bag veggie crumbles
1 large onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, crushed
2 tablespoons chili powder
1 teaspoon cumin
Dash cinnamon
Salt and pepper to taste
When chili is ready, serve over thin spaghetti. If desired, top with shredded vegan cheddar. Enjoy with oyster crackers (not the healthiest, but the way of true Cincinnati chili!)
So, to help a friend, and even you diehard vegans who just need a bit of change, I have provided a week’s worth of menus. These are not just any dinners either. These are some of my favorites. Notice that many refer to recipes covered in some of the wonderful vegan cookbooks on the market today. I’ve included some of these collections in my “Vegan Books Worth the Money” section in my sidebar. I think it is absolutely imperative that you own a few good cookbooks when you are just starting out (and even after). As new books are published, I do try to update and move some of the “older” titles off the list. That does not mean I no longer like these books or find them worthy. I’m just trying to help out the newbies that show up on the shelves. And note the “Worth the Money” part. I don’t believe that every new vegan cookbook out there warrants me parting with my hard earned cash. The books I’ve listed are those that I would actually purchase, either for myself or for a gift or both.
Have fun with these menus. Get creative. Add to, take away, substitute some of your favorite veggies or sides.
Monday
“Chicken” Noodle Soup (Skinny Bitch in the Kitch-------better, in my opinion, than the “real” thing!)
Skillet Cornbread (Basic version----recipe from Veganomicon)
Side salad (baby spinach leaves with red onion slices, cucumber, cherry tomatoes, dressing)
Tuesday
Spaghetti with marinara (I use the jar stuff, homemade is good too) topped with veggie crumbles
Steamed broccoli or favorite veggies
Garlic bread (thinly slice a baguette, lay slices on baking sheet, drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with sea salt, rub with minced garlic, bake until “toasty crunchy”)
Wednesday
Breakfast for dinner using Isa Chandra Moskowitz’ Vegan Brunch (I love this book!!)
Basic Scrambled Tofu
Garlic Roasted Potatoes
Cranberry Orange Nut Muffins
(add some colorful fruit to this menu and you’re good to go!)
Thursday
Naked burritos (So easy!!! Top a bowl of brown rice with black or pinto beans. Throw on some corn and salsa and grab a fork!)
I have just this, but if you’d like something more, try chips and salsa on the side. You can even add dairy-free sour cream and shredded vegan cheese to your burrito or wrap it up in a tortilla shell.
Friday
Hurry Up Alfredo (from Vegan Yum Yum) over your favorite pasta
Big salad (romaine, baby spinach, green onions, broccoli, cucumber, cherry tomatoes, roasted sunflower seeds, dried cranberries, Italian dressing—I like Newman’s Oil & Vinegar because it’s more real, but you could just go with some olive oil and a little balsamic vinegar)
Saturday
Veggie subs
(Slice a nice crusty baguette and go crazy with the fillers---baby spinach, lettuce, sun-dried tomatoes, green peppers, cucumbers, black olives, artichokes, roasted red peppers, ……………)
Cut veggies with hummus (try carrot sticks, celery, whatever isn’t on the sub)
Sunday
Cincinnati chili (not sure if I’ve posted this before, but it’s a great standby)
Throw all of this in a crockpot and cook all day:
½ pound dry kidney beans (soaked overnight) or 2 cans dark red kidney beans, drained
2 -14 ½ oz. cans diced tomatoes (depending on how much chili I need, I may throw in another can)
1 bag veggie crumbles
1 large onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, crushed
2 tablespoons chili powder
1 teaspoon cumin
Dash cinnamon
Salt and pepper to taste
When chili is ready, serve over thin spaghetti. If desired, top with shredded vegan cheddar. Enjoy with oyster crackers (not the healthiest, but the way of true Cincinnati chili!)
Saturday, November 28, 2009
The Princess and the Organically Grown Pea
I’m wondering why I care what you eat. The literature would suggest that I am perhaps concerned with your physical health or the lives of innocent animals or the welfare of the environment. It’s a possibility I suppose that I want to prevent you from being diagnosed with a diet-related form of cancer. Maybe I don’t want you to wake in the middle of the night thinking you have a bit of heartburn, but later be rushed to the hospital where you will lie recovering from a heart attack so deadly the staff calls it the widow maker. Or it could be that I love animals more than I love people and shudder at the thought of someone shoving a dead creature into their eating hole with some pickles and Dijon. Very likely, and this would be closer to fact, I am afraid for the planet my children and grandchildren will inherit. We know now that factory farming is more of a threat to the environment than all our transportation emissions combined. We know that we are rapidly losing trees and fields and lush green forests in favor of burgers and brats and a nice grilled Angus when the mood strikes. All of these reasons, in fact, should be why I care what you eat. All of these should be why I follow you through the grocery store throwing items out of your cart much as children throw them in.
But, no, that’s not it. I do love life in all forms—yours, mine, the animals’, the world in which we live. I’m not heartless. But my obsession over your daily lunch menu involves something a bit more, a bit embarrassing, if you really must know, for me to put to paper.
I think inside I am still that fairy tale princess waiting for her prince to come and steal away her heart, to carry her off on a beautiful white horse into a shimmering sunset. I want everyone to “play nice”, like each other, and go about their days whistling a happy tune. I am not only looking forward to the happily ever after part, I am expecting it. I don’t think you can live happily ever after when you feel like crap. Imagine Dopey and Sneezy with high cholesterol and a good case of Type II diabetes. What would lunch at the mine have been like with them shooting themselves up with insulin before their white bread sandwiches? Maybe the diabetes affected their vision and they had to turn in their driver’s license. Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work we go……….on the special services bus. Certainly when they showed up at the dinner table at the end of the day they would be exhausted from toting all that bonus weight around their middles and feel more like a little snooze than an evening doting on Snow White in all her princess glory.
What I’m really looking for here is a world full of bliss and joy. Is that so much to ask? Sure vegetarianism leads to increased longevity. I don’t really care how long people live. I just want them to live well. I want them to feel good and have energy and be happy while they’re here. I want them to build huge snow forts with their kids and take long walks in autumn woods with their own prince or princess. It’s tough to do either of these when you’re exhausted and popping high blood pressure pills like they’re Hershey’s secret recipe. It’s tough to be patient with the grocery clerk who goes on and on about how she just had to have her dog put down, the dog who lived for seventeen years and saw each one of her kids raised to college and was with them before they even knew night and day, the dog who sat with her as she mourned her husband’s death and became a widow when other girls her age were just beginning to marry. It’s tough to be patient when it’s been a long day at work and you need to get home to make dinner and your feet ache and your legs are cramped from the extra fifty pounds your doctor wants you to lose and you really just want her to shut the hell up and cash you out. I want people to “play nice”, like each other, and go about their days whistling a happy tune.
I am not a complete Pollyanna. I do realize that there are those individuals who, given a stellar report at the doctor’s office, energy enough even for a mother of triplets, and a BMI that any Weight Watcher’s member would kill for, will naturally just have mean oozing from their pores. They are fit, fine, and fabulous. They are also the devil walking among us. Some people just aren’t happy even if you bake them in it. Throw in some candy sprinkles and a few nuts, these individuals will still be like the little guy in Charlie Brown with that black cloud always over his head. I do believe, however, that a healthier body leads to the best opportunity to fulfill the happiness potential--kind of like Kool-Aid. If you forget the sugar, it will just never be right, no matter how much you tell yourself that it really isn’t that bad. You have to at least add the sugar before it can even start to taste like Invisible Grape.
I want people to live together as friends---make love, not war. I want them to be at peace and so filled with life that they burst they cannot hold it all. I want them to live a kind and gentle life, treating all earth’s creatures with respect. I want them to love and to laugh and to pass it on. This is why I care what you eat. It’s the sugar in the Kool-Aid. Without it you still have a drink that will quench true thirst, a life that will suffice, but with it……..mmmmm. A vegan diet may not conquer all, but it gives us the best shot at a life that is healthy, both on the scale and in our heads, where sometimes it matters most of all. If we feel good about ourselves it is easier to feel good about our neighbors, it is easier to “play nice”, to like each other, to go about our days whistling a happy tune.
But, no, that’s not it. I do love life in all forms—yours, mine, the animals’, the world in which we live. I’m not heartless. But my obsession over your daily lunch menu involves something a bit more, a bit embarrassing, if you really must know, for me to put to paper.
I think inside I am still that fairy tale princess waiting for her prince to come and steal away her heart, to carry her off on a beautiful white horse into a shimmering sunset. I want everyone to “play nice”, like each other, and go about their days whistling a happy tune. I am not only looking forward to the happily ever after part, I am expecting it. I don’t think you can live happily ever after when you feel like crap. Imagine Dopey and Sneezy with high cholesterol and a good case of Type II diabetes. What would lunch at the mine have been like with them shooting themselves up with insulin before their white bread sandwiches? Maybe the diabetes affected their vision and they had to turn in their driver’s license. Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work we go……….on the special services bus. Certainly when they showed up at the dinner table at the end of the day they would be exhausted from toting all that bonus weight around their middles and feel more like a little snooze than an evening doting on Snow White in all her princess glory.
What I’m really looking for here is a world full of bliss and joy. Is that so much to ask? Sure vegetarianism leads to increased longevity. I don’t really care how long people live. I just want them to live well. I want them to feel good and have energy and be happy while they’re here. I want them to build huge snow forts with their kids and take long walks in autumn woods with their own prince or princess. It’s tough to do either of these when you’re exhausted and popping high blood pressure pills like they’re Hershey’s secret recipe. It’s tough to be patient with the grocery clerk who goes on and on about how she just had to have her dog put down, the dog who lived for seventeen years and saw each one of her kids raised to college and was with them before they even knew night and day, the dog who sat with her as she mourned her husband’s death and became a widow when other girls her age were just beginning to marry. It’s tough to be patient when it’s been a long day at work and you need to get home to make dinner and your feet ache and your legs are cramped from the extra fifty pounds your doctor wants you to lose and you really just want her to shut the hell up and cash you out. I want people to “play nice”, like each other, and go about their days whistling a happy tune.
I am not a complete Pollyanna. I do realize that there are those individuals who, given a stellar report at the doctor’s office, energy enough even for a mother of triplets, and a BMI that any Weight Watcher’s member would kill for, will naturally just have mean oozing from their pores. They are fit, fine, and fabulous. They are also the devil walking among us. Some people just aren’t happy even if you bake them in it. Throw in some candy sprinkles and a few nuts, these individuals will still be like the little guy in Charlie Brown with that black cloud always over his head. I do believe, however, that a healthier body leads to the best opportunity to fulfill the happiness potential--kind of like Kool-Aid. If you forget the sugar, it will just never be right, no matter how much you tell yourself that it really isn’t that bad. You have to at least add the sugar before it can even start to taste like Invisible Grape.
I want people to live together as friends---make love, not war. I want them to be at peace and so filled with life that they burst they cannot hold it all. I want them to live a kind and gentle life, treating all earth’s creatures with respect. I want them to love and to laugh and to pass it on. This is why I care what you eat. It’s the sugar in the Kool-Aid. Without it you still have a drink that will quench true thirst, a life that will suffice, but with it……..mmmmm. A vegan diet may not conquer all, but it gives us the best shot at a life that is healthy, both on the scale and in our heads, where sometimes it matters most of all. If we feel good about ourselves it is easier to feel good about our neighbors, it is easier to “play nice”, to like each other, to go about our days whistling a happy tune.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Key Lime Pie
I’ve never understood the whole fascination with Key Lime Pie. People say Key Lime Pie as if Jesus is back among us. What are you bringing to the potluck? Key Lime Pie. Ooohhhh. I’ve been to the Keys and I’ve had pie. And once, between riding Dumbo for the eighteenth time and learning what those alligators of the Everglades look like up close, I put the two together. In all seriousness, I fail to see the big whoop. And I wonder if the regular pies don’t feel a smidge inadequate. I wonder if they don’t feel the need for a bit of meringue or sweetened condensed just to measure up.
I think it’s sort of that way with vegetarians (you knew I was going to go there). Someone finds out you’re a strict vegan and they’re all like, ooohhhh. I could never. And then you stand there feeling like Gandhi, the Pope, and Mr. Incredible all rolled into one. You are, insert hallelujahs and angels coming down from heaven, the epitome of vegetarianism. They, on the other hand, feel as if they have just dropped their drawers and exposed all their privates. They throat clear and shuffle and apologize profusely. They leave determined to start researching composting, to subscribe to a CSA or to pick up a box of egg replacer on their way home.
And why, I wonder, is it like this? Is some effort not better than none? Should steps in a positive direction, no matter how small, not be applauded? Shouldn’t intent and education and attempts at any level count for something? Maybe we strict vegetarians eschew honey, turn up our noses at bone char filtered white sugar, and ban even organic eggs from cage free poultry from our homes, but we still put our consignment shop jeans on one leg at a time. We still have days we struggle, question, and pick up the cutest little Ann Taylor black cardigan which we find out later has (YIKE!) five percent rabbit hair, but how were we to know that because our surly self-centered teenagers were griping and complaining for us to hurry and reminding us that this particular trip to the mall, Mom, is not all about you. Ok, maybe that was me. But we do this.
And we, like they are now, were new once. Everybody has a first day of work, a day when you walk in with a name tag pinned to your shirt and the customer wants to know if you wear size ten jeans what size panties would that be, only you can’t really answer that because you only know what size you wear and there really isn’t any formal training to peddle thongs and push-ups and perfumes. So you do the best you can. Sort of like the day you say, “Starting today I am vegetarian.” You walk in with that tag pinned to your shirt and somebody wants to know where you get your protein. And you don’t really know that yet, you just know that you don’t eat meat any more. And then one day you walk in with another tag pinned to your shirt and once again you’re the new guy. “Today I am vegan.”
So, Key Lime Pie can think it’s the shit. But it’s really just a little fruit in a crust--same as apple, same as blueberry, same as chocolate, in my book. You eat it with a fork, just like any other pie, and say you really shouldn’t but you do anyway. Sometimes, even, you go back for seconds when you think nobody is looking. And a vegan is really just a vegetarian without the eggs and without the milk. We fill up on fruits and on nuts and whole grains when we think about it, just like our lacto-ovo buddies. We all enjoy lower cholesterol and lower rates of heart disease and cleaner feeling bodies. We forget sometimes, even, that we are vegan and start to grab a few cheese cubes. We have to remind ourselves that we don’t eat that any more, we don’t eat ice cream or scrambled eggs or butter cookies, we don’t eat that way anymore because today we are vegan.
I think it’s sort of that way with vegetarians (you knew I was going to go there). Someone finds out you’re a strict vegan and they’re all like, ooohhhh. I could never. And then you stand there feeling like Gandhi, the Pope, and Mr. Incredible all rolled into one. You are, insert hallelujahs and angels coming down from heaven, the epitome of vegetarianism. They, on the other hand, feel as if they have just dropped their drawers and exposed all their privates. They throat clear and shuffle and apologize profusely. They leave determined to start researching composting, to subscribe to a CSA or to pick up a box of egg replacer on their way home.
And why, I wonder, is it like this? Is some effort not better than none? Should steps in a positive direction, no matter how small, not be applauded? Shouldn’t intent and education and attempts at any level count for something? Maybe we strict vegetarians eschew honey, turn up our noses at bone char filtered white sugar, and ban even organic eggs from cage free poultry from our homes, but we still put our consignment shop jeans on one leg at a time. We still have days we struggle, question, and pick up the cutest little Ann Taylor black cardigan which we find out later has (YIKE!) five percent rabbit hair, but how were we to know that because our surly self-centered teenagers were griping and complaining for us to hurry and reminding us that this particular trip to the mall, Mom, is not all about you. Ok, maybe that was me. But we do this.
And we, like they are now, were new once. Everybody has a first day of work, a day when you walk in with a name tag pinned to your shirt and the customer wants to know if you wear size ten jeans what size panties would that be, only you can’t really answer that because you only know what size you wear and there really isn’t any formal training to peddle thongs and push-ups and perfumes. So you do the best you can. Sort of like the day you say, “Starting today I am vegetarian.” You walk in with that tag pinned to your shirt and somebody wants to know where you get your protein. And you don’t really know that yet, you just know that you don’t eat meat any more. And then one day you walk in with another tag pinned to your shirt and once again you’re the new guy. “Today I am vegan.”
So, Key Lime Pie can think it’s the shit. But it’s really just a little fruit in a crust--same as apple, same as blueberry, same as chocolate, in my book. You eat it with a fork, just like any other pie, and say you really shouldn’t but you do anyway. Sometimes, even, you go back for seconds when you think nobody is looking. And a vegan is really just a vegetarian without the eggs and without the milk. We fill up on fruits and on nuts and whole grains when we think about it, just like our lacto-ovo buddies. We all enjoy lower cholesterol and lower rates of heart disease and cleaner feeling bodies. We forget sometimes, even, that we are vegan and start to grab a few cheese cubes. We have to remind ourselves that we don’t eat that any more, we don’t eat ice cream or scrambled eggs or butter cookies, we don’t eat that way anymore because today we are vegan.
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