What a wonderful treat!  My work day is slightly delayed today – I have a training class offsite that starts later than normal for me – so in addition to getting to sleep in a little we woke up to a smattering of lightning and gloriously loud thunder boomers all around us.  Rain is pouring down at a rapid rate and the fairway that borders our property to the north is a small tributary.

I have always enjoyed thunderstorms but I know they frighten some people.  I recall a childhood friend – always much more rough and tumble than I ever was or hoped to be – who I discovered in high school was terrified of storms.  To say I was surprised to learn this would be an understatement.  I also have a few relatives who dislike thunder and lightning and a recently acquired blogging friend who recently reported her fear of them.

It’s been a little dry lately so the rain is most welcome at this time.  What won’t be so pleasant later in the day is the heat and humidity so much moisture in the air is sure to deliver.  The next few days here in central Iowa look to be upper 80s, low 90’s.  Our local news channel forewarns of ‘big heat’ ahead on their website.

For now though as thunder continues to rumble in the distance I’m enjoying a few moments of calm, dashing off this quick post, before we head into the city to begin our day.  As usual I struggle today trying to figure out what to wear – it will be stifling hot and sticky outside but sure to be frigidly cold indoors (blasted A/C!) – so as always I’ll dress in layers, make sure I have hot tea or chai on hand to keep me warm and hope for the best.

Have a great day everyone!

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.  A quick Google search reveals that Samuel Johnson is (perhaps incorrectly) credited with this little nugget.  Different sources suggest otherwise or provide variations on the theme such as ‘no good deed goes unpunished’ or ‘nice guys finish last’.  Fair enough.  Whatever the phrase I understand the thinking behind it and know that it applies in spades when it comes to our kitchen-related activities.

While I love Adventures in Cooking and even more so Adventures in Baking I’ve started to detect a bit of a pattern.  Can anyone else relate?  It usually goes something like this…

Busy weekends:

  • Places to go, things to do, too much time frittered away (let’s not get into that…)
  • No time to cook or bake. Out we eat for the rest of the week.
  • Or pull out frozen leftovers (if we haven’t done that already the week before).
  • Peanut butter sandwiches. Grilled cheese and soup.
  • Hey. Air-popped popcorn with very little butter and a couple quick shakes of salt provides needed fiber, no?

A calendar respite:

  • Peruse dust-covered cookbooks and bookmarked web sites, categorized computer folders. My beautiful Amana Colonies walnut recipe box filled to over-flowing with magazine clippings and recipe cards.
  • DECIDE.
  • Compile Menu Planner for the next seven days in a spiral notebook.
    • Name of recipe
    • Name of cookbook with page number
  • Compile grocery list.
    • Group ingredients together by recipe
    • No use buying sour cream if I can’t find the other ingredients for XXX Casserole
  • Drive to the store (assuming something more interesting to do doesn’t come up).
    • If it does, plan to go later. Tomorrow is another option.
    • Otherwise, we’re on our way.
  • Saturday
    • See previous bullets.
    • Do we have what we need? BEGIN.
    • If not, see ‘Drive to the store’. Rinse, lather. Repeat.

Several years ago my dad commissioned an acquaintance to create a totem pole for the old homestead. He was quite proud of the results and enjoyed showing off the ‘zombies’ as he once described them to me. Fortunately it occurred to me a couple of months ago after Mom put the place up for sale that maybe I should capture their likenesses for future reference, like maybe when the Zombie Apocalypse they foretell finally does arrive. This way I’ll know what to be on the lookout for.

Laying on our glider after a short nap on the deck, still trying to shake this mid-summer malady that is currently making my life miserable, I began to notice different patterns and textures all within a ten to fifteen foot radius from where I was so comfortably situated. After awhile I was sufficiently motivated to duck inside to grab my camera to see what I could scrape together from the images all around me.

Sigh. Today’s non-post brought to you courtesy of boredom, lethargy and the summer sickness blues.

Alright. I know that’s one very time worn expression and not terribly creative to boot. But, for me, it’s so very true!

Last week right before the three day July 4th weekend I started getting the chills. Then the usual symptoms I’ve become quite familiar with as someone with a weakened immune system who grapples with sinus infections throughout the year: headache, scratchy throat, congestion, a bit of nausea and those dang blasted chills. I’m sure the neighbors wonder about me whenever I venture outdoors — in typical sunny, warm summer weather — wearing sweat pants, a sweat shirt and a turtleneck! But when I get the chills I am positively freezing. So I knew IT was coming again.

And come it did — with a twist and a vengeance. When I finally got myself in to see the doctor (on a Sunday morning by way of Urgent Care) I was surprised to learn that not only did I have pink eye (which I suspected) but I also had an ear infection and the not-one-to-miss-a-Julie-sickness-party sinus infection. I have a bit of a hearing loss as it is (runs in the family on my dad’s side) but over the last several days my husband was growing very weary of my repeated exclamations of ‘what did you say?’ just as I was ready to scream every time he mumbled and failed to enunciate! The diagnosis explained everything.

In 2001 I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis and in 2003 it was finally brought under control when I started a new treatment regimen of some powerful medicines which unfortunately also serve to weaken my immune system. If you know anything about RA you may already be aware that this disease damages your joints over time due to the immune system essentially working in overdrive and attacking the body causing inflammation, fatigue, stiffness and joint pain. So the meds that I take (gross oversimplification here!) basically deal with potential joint damage by inhibiting the attacks made by my immune system.

These medicines have been a lifeline. Those first couple of years were horrible. Unyielding fatigue, pain and stiffness in my fingers, wrists, hip and feet. At times it took me fifteen minutes or more to walk from the parking lot to my office building which normally took less than a minute or two. A co-worker bluntly asked what was wrong with me. I was often exhausted after getting ready for work in the morning, so much so that by the time I got in my car ready to back out of the garage I felt wiped out. My husband had to cut my food, open jars and car doors, turn faucets on and off and even dress me. I was simply unable to pull up my socks and panties or fasten my bra. He had to zip up my pants and button buttons. Although this was serious business (to me anyway!) I had to laugh the day a friend at work asked how I was doing. She’d heard my husband had to dress me, cut my food and so on. Then she asked ‘Does he do your hair too? I noticed the other day it looked kind of bad.’ Now some women might have felt insulted or miffed but I just laughed. I’d continued to fix my hair in the morning. I had not needed Bill’s help for that! I told my friend I was apparently just having a bad hair day. I know she felt bad and was a little embarrassed but I thought it was hilarious!

Rheumatoid arthritis, at the beginning, was debilitating and painful and I began to fear none of the many medicines my rheumatologist put me on were ever going to fix the problem. Then in 2003 I started Humira and methotrexate — a powerful combination of drugs that finally alleviated the painful swelling of my joints and the mind-numbing fatigue. Since I began using these medicines I rarely have what’s known as a flare up and sometimes I forget entirely that I have RA.

As with most things in life that have value, however, there is a cost associated with the use of these drugs which brings us full circle. These medicines impact the immune system and as a result infections are a real concern. Seasonal flu shots are a must and any time I notice symptoms of a cold or the flu I need to stop taking both the Humira and the methotrexate until I’m well again. Most of the time I’m okay with this. It’s a fair trade-off considering how horrible it was after I was first diagnosed.

Right now, though, I’m frustrated. I just joined a new fitness club with my sister and the two of us have been thrilled about swimming again. Most likely I picked up the pink eye from the pool and while I don’t know that for certain I’ve since learned that people like me with compromised immune systems are more susceptible to picking up the ‘stray’ bacteria (Disclaimer: paraphrasing here — I’m no expert on the subject!) that isn’t taken care of by the chlorine in the water. My rheumatologist suggested I used ear and nose plugs to prevent water from getting caught inside my ears and nose and thereby allowing any bacteria to fester and cause yet another infection.

Once I get well again I’ll give that a try and I sure hope it prevents another triple whammy of sickness like what I’m going through now. Would I go back to the pain and fatigue I suffered early on? Of course not. But getting sick several times a year is no picnic either. So yes I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.

I am aware, however, of how incredibly fortunate I am. Many people with far worse afflictions would jump at the chance to trade health-places with me. While I am certainly not enjoying being sick right now or the prospect of having to give up swimming I’ll get through this in a few days or worst case a couple of weeks. And there are other activities and exercises I can engage in to keep fit. I’ve been a little tired and grumpy because of this but I do know — I really, truly do! — that things could be so much worse. I have much to be thankful for — including my health. Weakened immune system be damned!

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Nothing like a field of flowers to instill dreamy thoughts of summers past especially those of one’s childhood.  These carefree blooms, photographed at a winery in Missouri, were beautifully swaying in the breeze that day.  Watching their movement, set on an slight elevation overlooking a small pond, with birds  chirping and tweeting as they flew through the mix it was easy to imagine running through the flowers and grasses and wanting to escape to simpler times without the day in, day out worries and demands of our adult lives and responsibilities.  To only think and act as a child, chasing dragonflies and searching for turtles and frogs along the water’s edge.  Leaping with joy and abandon and living only in the moment, shrieking with delight at the smallest discoveries.  Perhaps we should allow ourselves the simple pleasure of appreciating a summer afternoon spent the way a child would enjoy it.  Probably easier said than done since our adult minds seldom let us go too long before thoughts of more serious, pressing matters intrude and spoil the party.  A worthy goal though nonetheless.

 

Last weekend my husband and I drove into Missouri where my son, who teaches chemistry at a community college south of St. Louis, had a bit part in their production of Grease playing the Frankie Avalon role of Teen Angel. This was his first time on the acting stage (he’s certainly not shy and is accustomed to performing in public as he is the drummer for a local blues band). He did a bang-up job and I was one proud Mama.

Watching him on stage I was reminded of my own experiences in high school and community theatre plays. I auditioned in the tenth grade for Dobie Gillis landing a very small part where another actor and I were to walk across the stage. We played high school students walking down the hall and one of the other ‘student’s on the stage was supposed to say something as my cue. However during my debut performance she forgot her line and not knowing what else to do I continued walking until I was off-stage. Still. I had been under those lights in front of an audience and the entire experience was FUN.

My next role was that of Little Rosie in My Son the Exorcist (yes, my high school years coincided with a similarly named box-office hit and so there you are). I wore a pink polka-dotted dress and my face, arms and legs were painted green. I growled and swayed and threw myself at the ankles of leading man Dave Winters, pretending to bite him as he dragged me across the floor of the stage. Certainly not high drama but again it was fun.

The only other experience I had in high school theatre was when Sue Levad and I, not being at all musically inclined, were given the opportunity to participate nonetheless as student directors for the fall production of South Pacific during my senior year. We had a very talented cast and I thoroughly enjoyed the singing, the dancing and the camaraderie of being involved in a high school musical. I recall with much fondness the incredible feeling backstage, the giddiness and laughter as we all watched Dave Schaefer burst onto the stage in his grass skirt and coconut ‘brassiere’. It was exciting, it was thrilling and it is probably one of my best memories from high school.

After high school I performed in a number of Brickstreet Theater productions in our small home town: The Mousetrap, God’s Favorite, She Was Only a Farmer’s Daughter, You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown and several others whose names I have since forgotten.  Forest City is a tiny hamlet in north central Iowa (home of Winnebago Industries!) and only occasionally would we have any newcomers showing up for auditions. I rarely played any lead characters and if I’m honest was probably only mediocre at best. But I was one of those few regulars to audition each time and I gave as good as I got.

Aside from learning about staging and costuming and character development the biggest take-away from all of my theatre experiences is what I call the psychology of the audience. No matter how prepared you are or how well everyone on stage memorizes their lines there is no way to predict how the audience will react to what’s happening up there under the lights.

That first night of South Pacific when the audience howled with appreciation to Dave’s grass-skirted gyrations led us to expect the same reaction during the next performance. Except that it never happened. I remember the sense of expectation and waiting for that same euphoria we’d experienced on opening night. But it was flat somehow. How could that be? Why didn’t the audience react the same way?

Later, in other plays put on by Brickstreet Theater, we learned to pause briefly at expected ‘laugh lines’ only to discover during some performances that the laughs never came. On the flip side the audience would laugh uproariously at places we never expected. This was weird. I didn’t understand it but I learned to accept that this is just how it is and as an actor you have to be ready to roll with the punches.

The psychology of the audience isn’t just limited to live theatre. Perhaps you’ve experienced it too? I looked forward to seeing the film Men in Black because I’d heard it was really good. The theatre was packed but hardly anyone – at all – reacted to it. I walked out of there not at all impressed. Actually I hated it. I suspect others had the same reaction. The same thing happened when we went to one of the Spiderman films. Admittedly this wasn’t a movie I would have gone to on my own but we were with other family members and that was their choice. Again the entire theatre just sat there and many of the supposed sight gags and one-liners literally fell on deaf ears. It was a horrible movie-going experience and I could not wait for the film to end.

Of course audience psychology goes the other way too and can help to make the whole experience fun and enjoyable. My husband and I went to The Others a few years ago. This Nicole Kidman film is a dark, tension-filled thriller and at one point the entire full house gasped and jumped in their seats. Then, in a spirit of camaraderie, we all laughed in unison at having been spooked collectively. I thoroughly enjoyed that film.

The ultimate audience participation film, Rocky Horror, is a favorite of mine. And yet I have only ever watched it in the comfort of my own living room. Still I love it for the music, the campiness, the quirkiness and the fun (and of course Tim Curry!). I can only imagine what the psychology of the audience would be like to see it as many claim is the only way to watch it: in the theater with other crazy fans all around you. Perhaps sometime I’ll take in a midnight showing!

Now when I go to a live performance or to see a movie I pay attention to how the audience is responding and I try to evaluate what’s going on ‘up there’ on its own merits and not let my reaction be corralled by the audience’s reaction (or non-reaction). Still though when a production is solid and the actors are good having the other audience members there with you for the ride helps to make for a more memorable experience overall.

I am not an athlete. Never have been, most likely never will be. PE was my least favorite class in both junior high and high school. I dreaded those presidential physical fitness awards we were forced to endure each year. I was never able to throw a softball the required distance (far, far from it). I couldn’t run fast enough. I couldn’t do sit-ups very well. Flat out — I was a pretty poor specimen of physical ability, grace and stamina. I accepted my lot in life and never agonized for very long (if at all) at how much I sucked at anything athletic.

Fast forward to my courtship with Bill. He was a star athlete and is good at almost anything sports-related. Because he loves golf I was determined to try, to really TRY to learn. And a funny thing happened along the way. I discovered that when I gave a good, solid effort and listened to my husband’s instructions on how to hold the club, how to swing the club, how to put, how to chip, how to play — when I really tried — I was occasionally rewarded with a decent shot. Not every time of course (golf is frustratingly like that) but enough to make me want to keep at it.

This was a revelation to me. I’ll never be a gifted athlete but to realize that I can participate in a sport, in some kind of physical activity and get something in return for my effort — well, if not life-changing this was pretty darn close.

I recently joined Lifetime Fitness, primarily to take up swimming – again. I reluctantly add the word ‘again’ since I don’t wish to mislead anyone into thinking that I vigorously applied myself to this activity when I was younger. Not true. I enjoyed swimming and going to the pool when I was a kid but as with anything sports-related I never really applied myself. Being a little older and maybe a little wiser I now find myself wanting to try. I swim the 25-yard length of the pool, stop at the wall, and my heart is pounding in my chest. But, strangely, it feels good. Gliding through the water feels amazing. And I keep going. I’m actually applying myself. I’m on the cusp of doing something ATHLETIC. It’s powerful stuff and when Bill picks me up afterwards I’m actually a little giddy.

I’ll never be an athlete but maybe, just maybe I’ll enjoy the effort it takes to work at being one now. And I think that’s pretty neat.