Today I went grocery shopping. We were out of milk, and, more importantly, toilet paper. I like to be well hydrated so it’s important to have lots of TP around. And since I was going out anyway, I figured, why not check out Whole Foods? This is the high end, snooty grocery store of choice for the rich folk of West Vancouver. I was thinking I might find some seitan there (I didn’t), but anyway they’ll surely have toilet paper (they did: expensive, multiply-recycled stuff. I don’t know how comfortable I am with recycled toilet paper - recycled from what? - but anyway there was only one brand so I bought it).

Here are the pros of Whole Foods: loads of organic stuff, and loads of vegetarian stuff. Soy products galore. Animal product free stuff everywhere you turn. Great selection of bulk whole grains, nuts, rice, and the like. All kinds of unusual brands and specialty items you can’t get at the usual grocery store.

Here are the cons: it’s super expensive. I wouldn’t shop here for stuff you can get at Safeway. And, it is full of rich bitches. Holy fuck, man. I try not to stereotype (after all, I was educated in the post-modern paradigm), but seriously - there’s no other way to say it. At least half of the people in Whole Foods are total rich bitches, complete with clothes too young for them and attitudes too big for them. It seriously interfered with my food joy experience to have to maneuver the aisles with these women. And men - there are rich bitch men too.

I like the organic foods thing. First of all, organic produce tends to taste better, which is crucial if you care about home cooking. And, I like that they have less pesticides, travel less distance, and tend to support local growers (though not always - check the labels). But it’s nothing short of a tragedy that organics have been coopted from the hippies by these jackasses, because I’m so put off by them that I’m considering switching exclusively to vegetables grown in Iraqi oil patches, coated in wax, shipped one by one on jumbo jets, and rolled in Agent Orange at customs.

It’s hard to pin down just what sets these people apart. Okay, they dress very expensively and drive huge, swanky cars. Their watches are all expensive (I know watches). The women wear too much jewelry. They have phony smiles. But whatever - it’s not a crime to be well off. I guess my problem is the attitudes. You could cut the entitlement with a knife. These are people who figure they deserve the best - and again, okay, maybe they do, if you measure “deserve” by income. But I think this kind of attitude is necessarily paired with a judgment about other people who are less well off - that they don’t deserve what you’re getting. The problem with this is that wealth has all too often nothing at all to do with merit. Some people are rich because they worked hard and earned it, some because they got lucky, some because they had the right parents, some for no reason at all (Britney Spears, anyone?). And there are loads of hard working, dedicated, deserving people who are decidedly not as rich as they should be.

I’m not dissing wealth. I’m dissing the attitude of entitlement. I’m not rich but I’m more secure than most, and instead of feeling superior to those without my advantages, I feel appreciative and fortunate. My money has nothing to do with my personal value as a human being. Is it the product of hard work? Hell yes - my husband is the breadwinner in our family and he has worked his ass off from nothing to get us where we are. But even so, our money doesn’t reflect his value as a human being either. In our case it does reflect hard work, but it just as easily might not have, say if we’d won the lottery or inherited it. I try to keep this in mind, and remember that in general, all people are important. Your stock portfolio doesn’t say anything about whether you are a good friend, loving parent, loyal employee. This keeps me on the path of humility and understanding for others, rather than on a path of feeling entitled and superior.

Also, when you’re at a natural foods market, when you talk deserve you’re talking about deserving what should be a right for everyone: the healthiest foods, the least toxic ingestibles to nourish your children, the widest choice to facilitate choices like vegetarianism.  But I’m no communist. I understand it costs money to produce this excellent food, and that someone needs to make money as an incentive to continue. And you can’t just give it away and expect the system to be sustainable.

So, I don’t know what the solution is. But please, rich people, stop thinking you’re better than everyone else. You’re not. You’re just richer, that’s it.  And you can’t judge a book by its bank balance.

Anybody got an idea for a craft I can make that will result in a tree topper?  Last year I wired a stuffed octopus to the top of my tree, and while I did enjoy it, the toy wasn’t meant as a tree topper and was constantly sagging or falling down off the tree.  I need an idea for something I can make.  Nothing too country cottage, either.

Ideas?  Mel, I’m looking at you.

So something disturbing happened last week.  I was in class Thursday night, when a woman colleague of mine started telling a story about something that had happened in our Saturday class the weekend before.  Her story was basically this: “Remember when I was talking and asking that question a bunch of times in class?  Yeah… I knew it was time to stop talking with I saw Blogosaurus roll her eyes at me.  Ha!  Ha!”

I was totally taken aback.  For starters, I didn’t even recall what she was talking about.  I’m usually pretty aware of my own contempt for others, so surely I’d remember if she was so irritating that I had to roll my eyes at her.  Plus, this is a person I like a great deal and respect.  I just don’t think I actually did that - and I said so, nicely of course.  I was at first baffled and tried to get her to explain more about what happened so I could try and place the incident, but she was obviously trying to laugh it off and just kept waving her hand at me and saying, “Oh, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it!”

But I was worried.  For the record, I think she may have misinterpreted something, or even imagined it (we call that “projecting”).  Once I finally put together a memory of the event, after consulting with another student from that day, I knew I wasn’t feeling contemptuous - quite the opposite.  I was relieved that she was bringing up a question I was interested in too, but wasn’t feeling up to asking, as I was sick in class at the time.  So I don’t think any eye rolling occurred.  But what does it say about me that she thinks I’m the kind of person who rolls her eyes at others?  Am I a jerk?

I don’t want to  be the kind of person that makes other people nervous about whether or not I’m secretly judging them.  Or not so secretly, as in the case of eye rolling.  I was talking about this with two friends from school, and both told me then that I wear my emotions and opinions on my face, and they can always tell when I’m annoyed or happy or whatever.  I was surprised - so much for my myth of myself as the Cheshire Cat!  But I am grateful that they were honest with me, because that’s the kind of thing one should know about one’s self.

Again, in this particular case, I think a mistake got made and there was no eye rolling.  But obviously there have been other incidents where my contempt was obvious, and now at least some fellow students think of me as The Judgmental Person.   Protesting my good intentions is a waste of time - once opinions like this get formed, there’s no escaping them through argument.  I need to really work at being more careful about my expressed emotion, and hopefully I can create a better image for myself, an image more in line with how I see myself and would like others to see me, through action.

I’m actually feeling quite sad at the thought that this is how others see me.  And it just goes to show how little we can know ourselves.  There is clearly a big disconnect between how I think others see me and how those others actually do see me.

Learning things about yourself is hard.

I have been making roasted pumpkin seeds tonight and they are so good! I thought I’d post the recipe now, in case you happen to be carving your pumpkin today. The product is dry and crunchy, like a peanut or a corn nut but less oily. They are delicious and easy as pie to make. Some of the steps are quite slow, so you’ll want to plan on how you’ll organize your time to do them right.

1. Take the seeds from inside your pumpkin. Separate out as much of the clingy pumpkin goo as you can. I found it was easier to rinse them in a bowl of cool water a few times, as this seems to get the sticky stuff off the seeds.

2. Once they are nice and clean, put them in a bowl of very salted water (I used about 1/4 cup of salt in 2 cups of water) and let them soak for four hours or so. This gets some nice saltiness right into the seed, which helps the flavour later on.

3. Now give the seeds a quick rinse, just a short blast under the tap in a colander to get any excess salt off the surface of the seed.

4. Spread the seeds out in a single layer to dry, on cutting board or cookie trays or whatever is on hand. They will need eight hours or so to really dry, so make sure you help this along by not having the seeds overlap each other at all. You could let them dry overnight if you want. The reason you need them to be dry is so that your oil and spice mixture will stick to the surface of the seed. If they are wet, they won’t take the dressing. While drying, I found my seeds were a bit tacky and slimy feeling at points, but don’t worry about that. When they are properly dry, they will feel perfectly smooth.

5. Figure out how many seeds you have by measuring them in a measuring cup. My spice and oil recipe was perfect for 1 cup of seeds - if you have more, adjust the recipe accordingly.

6. In a small mixing bowl, put 1 teaspoon of oil and about the same amount of spice. Mix them together with a fork, then throw in the seeds and stir with the fork until all are coated well. I tried the following combinations and they were all very good:

1tsp olive oil and 1tsp garlic salt

1tsp safflo oil and a mix of salt, cumin, chili powder, and oregano - in descending order of quantity; about 1tsp total.  After these ones come out of the oven, sprinkle about 6 dashes of Tobasco sauce over them and stir well.  Let dry before packaging for storage.

1 tsp olive oil and 1 tsp large grain salt

I would advise olive oil for anything Italian or Greek or plain themed, as the flavour is perfect. If you want the oil to have a subtler presence, use safflo or another very mild oil. You could also try an asian mix, perhaps with sesame oil? Or try a curry version.

7. Spread the seeds in a single layer on a baking tray and pop in the oven at about 350. Baking will take about 45 minutes, but keep an eye on them - the most important indicator of doneness is when they are a nice, dark golden brown colour. They will need to be stirred every 10 minutes or so, to get both sides and to compensate for any hotter spots in your oven. Just watch them and don’t let them burn.

8. Take them out, and let them cool on the counter. Don’t try to eat one right out of the oven!

According to the internet, these seeds can be kept for one week or one year.  I think you should treat them like any other seed or nut - store in an airtight container and refrigerate to prevent rancidity, and they should be fine for six months or more.  Not that they’ll last that long.

Well, I am sick again.  Husband is starting to think I have mono and recommends another trip to my GP - though he happily acknowledges that even if I do have mono, there is nothing to be done for it.  I’m not sure I have the energy to drive to Kerrisdale to be told to go home and do nothing.  But I think I’ll start tracking my illnesses on the calendar and if I’m not fully well by my birthday in December, I’ll go.

But, I’m in good spirits.  I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I can control and improve my overall happiness.  Life can be so good if you just help it along a little, which is what I am striving for.  One thing is to make time for the good stuff of life, and so this weekend I put school aside and just revelled in life and joy.  Friday was declared official Blogosaurus Night, and Husband and I had a blast doing things of my choosing: dinner at the Templeton (veggie poutine and chocolate milkshakes - see previous post about weight), a trip to Christmas Street where we danced amongst the lit trees (yes, we really are that romantic), a viewing of The Godfather (crime TV!  Woo!), and some adult activities I can’t discuss here.

Saturday I did work on a group project for school, but Sunday was back to chillin’ - Husband and I checked out trees at Canadian Tire (they all look like they’re made of cut up garbage bags, so we didn’t buy one), the Gourmet Warehouse (which totally rocks, and where I bought a colourful vegetable peeler and some miso paste), and then lunch at home of my very good chili with avocado and cheese.  Husband went to a poker tournament that afternoon, and I had my little brother over for the afternoon.  I believe I have said here before how much he rocks, and yesterday was no exception - we had a blast carving pumpkins and just chatting.  He’s graduating from high school this year and is struggling with the problems of what to do next, and what it will mean to leave home and friends for school.  He helped me buy a huge case of diet pop, and then we had dinner with our mom, who lives close by.  After dinner I drove him home to our dad’s place in Chilliwack.  We had some great conversation and I enjoyed myself thoroughly.

Mine is the 6-legged octopus, my brother’s is the gremlin.

So, even though I am again sick, I am buoyed by a lovely, relaxing, love-filled weekend.  I am taking things easy today, doing some reading for school and preparing the pumpkin seeds from the jack-o-lanterns for roasting (I will make three flavours: garlic, chili, and plain salted for use in salads).  The body is run down but the spirit is high!

Husband and I are back on a diet.  After a couple (okay, a few) months of gay abandon, we have both put on weight.  We’ve been eating out more and I’ve taken to ordering dessert after every meal, even when I have to stuff myself to the aching point to ingest it.  Yesterday, while eating a plate of pasta in alfredo sauce, I realized that my jeans are too tight.  And these are my usual, comfortable jeans, not the skinny jeans I only fit some times.  And I’m not the only one - Husband has grown a bit about the middle too.  I have taken to referring to us collectively (and affectionately) as “the sausages.”  The word sausages is cute, but, alas, looking like a sausage is decidedly not cute.  I’m too afraid to weight myself but clearly, things must change.

I dislike dieting because if there’s a way to do it without feeling hungry, I haven’t discovered it.   But anyway, in order to make this as painless as possible, I will stick to my usual tricks for conning myself into thinking I’m eating.  Even when I totally am not.  And, in the spirit of sharing, I hereby present BV’s diet rules.  Because you know you love a good rule.

1. Keep gallons of pickles around.  At almost no calories, they are a free food that tastes great.

2. Cook at home so you can control what’s in the food.  You would be shocked at how much fat is in restaurant food.  Plus, the portions are ridiculously enormous.  Husband and I can share an entree and still have overeaten.  And let’s not even talk about the drinking one engages in when one eats out.  Booze makes me love you more but love my butt less.

3. Only make (for eating) what you love.  If you don’t get to fill up, at least enjoy what you have.  So don’t waste precious calories on stupid shit like toast.  Or orange juice.  Hello, lame.

4. Drink diet pop.  And lots of it.  Flavour without content.  It’s like manna from heaven.

5. Make time for self pity.  Because no junk food = earned sadness.

I’m also going to try a new experiment: no prepackaged food.  Or rather, no prepared food.  Cans of vegetables are totally cool, especially beans which take forever to soak and cook.  But I’m trying to eat as naturally as possible, from real ingredients instead of dried or frozen packs.  Not only will this help with the dieting, but I’m hoping it will in general prove healthful, and bolster my attempts to stop getting sick any more.  The only prepackaged, prepared stuff I’ll use is the aforementioned pop and pickles, plus condiments.  We’ll see how it goes.

I got a new cookbook, and I am newly inspired to get all cheffy and try new things.  Despite totally changing my eating habits last year when I went veg, I am actually not very adventurous as an eater.  I like what I like, and I don’t like to mess with that.  For example, for years, I always got a hamburger at any restaurant I was at that served them.  It’s like the rest of the menu didn’t exist.  And there are other rules: I don’t like sweet with savory, I don’t like anything doughy or dumplingy, I hate a salad with fruit in it.

I am beginning to find this boring.

Today I made some new things, and I am so thrilled!  Not necessarily with the recipes - one was gross (a pesto based dip), the other not quite right (a chile, cilantro, garlic, lime and yogurt dip) because it’s supposed to be blended but I don’t have a food processor, but I don’t care - it was great to be trying something new!  I am making a new resolution: I am going to try making and eating new foods.  New flavours, new methods.  Oh baby!  One easy way to do this is with soup.  If I make a pot of soup, I can have some with lunch every day and have an excuse to make a fresh soup once or twice a week, which will be enjoyable and provides lots of opportunities for experimentation.  I love soup - frankly, only dessert can’t be made better by serving it in hot broth.  My other plan is to start serving salad every night with dinner so I can experiment with dressings (home made of course) and greens in new combinations.

I also just heard about seitan - it’s a wheat protein product and apparently, it’s a dead ringer for beef.  I’m a little suspicious about this because as a new vegetarian, I can tell you that when vegetarians tell you something is “just like beef” or “just like chicken” they are always wrong.  It’s not just like beef.  It’s just like tofu.  Only beef is like beef - the texture and taste just cannot be faked.  But my source on this one is an omnivore and a professional chef, and advises that in something like a stew, where the seitan is not naked and plain and vulnerable to the discriminating taste buds of a recent meat eater, it really is quite beef-like.   So I think I’ll give this one a try.  I will of course report back on the beefiness or non-beefiness of seitan.

And I think I’m finally ready to really give up the bivalves.  Husband and I have eaten bivalves (oysters, clams, mussels, scallops) once in a while, though a couple of months ago I began saying I didn’t want them any more.  The reasoning behind eating them is pretty simple: there is no evidence of social behaviour or intraspecies affection in bivalves, and they do not have a sophisticated enough nervous system to suggest they experience pain.  And, they are all harvested in environmentally sustainable ways.  So basically they are meaty vegetables, and no one suffers when you eat them.  But I had scallops tonight after a couple months without, and I really did not enjoy them.  For starters they were overcooked (I was spoiled by Halifax, where every chef knows how to make a perfectly browned yet tender scallop; no one in Vancouver can do this), but beyond that I just couldn’t get past the meatiness.  Rationalize it as you like (or as I did), but I just couldn’t get past feeling like I was eating an animal, and I don’t want to be doing that.  It’s a gut level reaction.  I know it doesn’t make much sense, but why waste calories on food I am not enjoying?  So I think I’m done with bivalves.  It’s a shame, because lord knows I have loved me some oysters.  Oh, oysters!  But now?  I don’t think I’d want one.  Go figure.

What is it about cooking that I love so much?  My list is huge: the earthy smell of paper bag and potatoes; citrus fruit and its spray of fine acid scent when you cut it; the sensualism of kneading, rolling, crushing; creative realization when yes, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts; soft cheese and hard crusts and silky sauces; red and green and yellow; tastes to burn or sweeten, sharpen or mellow.

Food nourishes the body but also the spirit.  Eating is so much more than just ingesting - or rather, you’re ingesting more than just food.  When food is lovingly prepared, eating is being loved.   When it is taken as part of a group, food is community and ceremony.  When given to others, food is an expression of connection.  Who doesn’t love to be offered home made food at someone else’s house?  How many of us remember tarts and squares and other treats as part of holiday offerings made by older relatives to us in childhood?  Birthday cakes or Halloween candies; pancakes on lazy weekends, popcorn at the movies?

I love to cook.  It relaxes and recharges me.  And then I have the singular pleasure of offering what I’ve made, knowing that I am bringing something that smells and tastes and feels good to others.   Stew in winter, light summer pastas.  Long simmered soups and salty salads.  The process is rewarding all on its own.  I like to mind how things develop, how ingredients change colour and texture and flavour with the cooking.  It’s like enjoying several dishes in rapid succession: sauteed onions and garlic with spices, then pan fried potatoes, then a hash of potatoes and tomatoes, finally a stew-like concoction of the forgoing plus corn and green onions and feta cheese crumbled on top.  My recipient only gets the last, but I have enjoyed all four.

Cooking has also become an expression of my ethics.  Nothing dies to feed me, no lights are put out.  It’s life begetting life - fabulous!  It’s also part of how I take care of myself.  Sure, I could have Froot Loops for breakfast - or I could throw some yogurt and an orange and a pear into a blender and have, in two minutes, something healthful and delicious.  When did it become onerous to give yourself the gift of real food?  Don’t believe them when they tell you it takes hours to cook.  Simple food nourishes as well as complex, and often has cleaner, fresher taste.  Eating well should be a right, and you shouldn’t settle for anything less.

Nourish  yourself!

Well, I have finished fondling the new ornaments and have packed those little fuckers away until such time as I gauge it appropriate to put up a tree.  In years past, that meant not sooner than my birthday, which is in early December.  I used to be all “don’t mix my birthday with Christmas!  Don’t do it!  Eeeeee!”  but now I’m much more “whatever.”  I think the main rule is to not preempt Remembrance Day.  I’m thinking the end of November will be just about perfect.

I’ve also been reading The Structure of Scientific Revolutions by Thomas Kuhn.  This is one of those books that you hear about all the time, and know you really should read, but somehow never get around to it.  Well, I’m thinking about doing my thesis on a related issue (how we construct and study knowledge in counseling psychology) so I really did have to read this bad boy.  And I just want to say, if you are a person interested in science and interested in some of the more “meta” epistemological issues in science, you must read this book.  It is blowing me away.  Love it!  I’m not a hard sciences person, but it’s still going to be fundamental to my work.  We’ve all heard of paradigm, and this is the book that started it all.  How does our paradigm dictate what we study, how we study it, what tools we use, how we interpret the results?  What does this mean for the freedom and “reality” of science?  Oh!  I am just in crazy love with this book.  I love it when a book fires my brain like this.

And I’ve been reading for my presentation on behaviour therapy in groups.  I’m not interested in practicing it, but BT is sure fun to read about.  I took a class once with a crazy behaviourist who told us in gruesome, delicious detail the process for helping people get over various phobias using flooding, which is when you are totally immersed in the feared stimulus until the anxiety extinguishes.  So, say you’re afraid of spiders - flooding might involve strapping you to a table and covering you in tarantulas until you stop being afraid.  Could take hours.  Could be traumatizing.  Not something I’d want to do in this day and age of the law suit.  But isn’t it fascinating?  Alas, my presentation will be less exciting than that, but the reading is quite pleasant.

This morning I worked on an assignment until around lunch time, when I decided to head to Pacific Centre for the red curry and rice dish I love at the Thai Express. After a very satisfying lunch, I thought to myself that I was just not ready to come home and do more work, so I wandered into The Bay. And found Christmas Street. Christmas Street is the fifth floor, where all the aisles are hung with massive garlands and the first sight greeting you when you exit the elevator is a six foot tall wooden nutcracker. It’s trees and ornaments as far as the eye can see and the music is all carols.

You might be expecting me to get all snarky about Christmas at this point, but you would be wrong. I love the Christmas season. It’s the best time of the year, a whole month of happiness and warm feelings. When I stumbled upon Christmas Street, I had a totally unbidden rush of happiness - just pure happiness. I actually experienced a totally spontaneous smile. I immediately got on the phone and called Husband, who does not share the Christmas madness, and sounded pretty perplexed as to why I would call him just to say The Bay has ornaments for sale already. But I just had to share that moment with someone, that feeling of anticipation and goodness. It was such a surprise, walking into The Christmas when it isn’t even Halloween.

So I found myself a basket and picked out a bunch of ornaments to buy. Last year our tree was a little smaller than I expected - I had to prop it up on a box in order to get it to chest height, and I am a short woman. This year I plan to buy a new, bigger tree, so of course I’m going to need more ornaments. I was immersed in the Christmas happiness and spent a very pleasant hour fondling and selecting ornaments. (My rules about purchasing ornaments are these: only buy one of any given ornament, and only buy ornaments that make me happy. Christmas is not about matching or style, it is about colour and joy. Those single colour trees are sterile and soulless.)

Anyway, the thing about my first major Christmas awakening of the year is that it is always conflicted. At some point, usually when I’m decorating my tree, I am reminded powerfully of my gramma, and start to cry. She is of course dead, but while she was here, she was like a mother to me. I lived with her when I was very young, and never lived more than five minutes away until university. Gramma was an even bigger Christmas nut than I am - her entire house was full of decorations and ornaments and anything that would hold still was sprayed with fake snow for all of December. She wasn’t a rich woman, but she saved all year to buy presents for her large family and put a massive dinner on the table on the day. Some of my most precious memories of my early years involve her at Christmas, singing carols and baking and doing little craft projects to put up around the house. I guess the Christmas explosion she provided is such a special memory to me because it stands for what was real and vital in our relationship - love. This is an overused phrase, but in this case I believe it is true: my gramma loved me unconditionally, and I have not stopped hurting that she is dead.

So today, there I am, rifling ornaments, when it came to me - thoughts of her and Christmases past, and how it will never really be the same because she can never be here again. I figured I had better not indulge in a cry in public, so of course I didn’t, but it was hard. I am still surprised with the strength of my reaction when I think of her - it hasn’t really gotten much lessened in the years since she died. But it was also a positive experience, because though I miss her, I am also brought back to loving and happy memories. I imagined she would approve of my choices - a collection of clashing but colourful ornaments with a high percentage of sparkly or reflective items.

Anyway, I know it’s too early to put up a tree or anything, but I couldn’t resist getting my old ornaments out of storage and checking them out. So many of them were gifts or came from my childhood or were acquired in some other special way that it’s always a good trip down memory lane. I’m about to get back to work on my assignment but I wanted to blog briefly about this event because it’s got me thinking about appreciating those we love and have at hand. I didn’t spend enough time with my gramma right before she died and I will never forgive myself for that - and the lesson I took away is that there is nothing - nothing - more important in your life than putting time aside to be with your loved ones.