Category — MidLeap

Okay, it’s true confessions time.  I read my horoscope.  I do.  My favorite is Susan Miller’s AstrologyZone.  She posts a detailed horoscope at the beginning of each month.  I find them fascinating, and eerily accurate.

At the beginning of August, I logged on, read my scope, and took note of one date in particular.  Susan doesn’t usually go in for the doom and gloom.  It’s one of the reasons I like her the best.  This month, however, she had a pretty specific warning:

“One of your toughest days of the month will be when Mars will be in very hard angle to Uranus on August 18. Your sister or brother seems to be on your mind. Be careful what you say – be good to your sibling on this day, and don’t argue. (Alas, this aspect has a plus or minus of one whole week, so you’ll have to be careful. It may, alternatively, have a physical manifestation. Protect against falls and keep bones of the shoulders, arm, hands, and wrist safe.)”

So, I put a little note in my calendar for tomorrow, Tuesday the 18th.  It reads simply, “be safe.”  Evidently, I missed the part about this being longer than just one day.

Yesterday, Sunday, while walking Libby, Leigh and I ended up walking behind a guy who had one dog on a leash and was calling another dog (a jack russel looking thing) that was running amok.  This dog – herefter referred to as “bastard dog” – ran across traffic in front of a car to menace us.  The guy hollered “will you grab him,” and being friendly dog owners ourselves, we obliged.

Now, I probably shouldn’t have to say this, but I’m going to anyway.  Never pick up a dog that you don’t know.  I KNOW, I KNOW.  I said I shouldn’t have to say this.  I don’t know what happened in my brain, but I had the following conversation with myself in the course of about 5 seconds:

“Grab him.  How?  He’s little.  Pick him up.  Really?  Yup.  Ouch.”

The ouch came when, as I brought the dog off the ground, he screamed like I was stabbing him in the eye, started kicking and evidently biting with everything he had.  I put him down as gently as I could and decided not to look at my hand and arm that were stinging.  I will say that it was an effective way to get him to return to his owner.  Unfortunately, at this point, the other dog had escaped his collar and come to say hi to Libby.  This was a nice dog.

By the time the guy came over I’d looked down and realized that the bastard dog had done some damage.

I had a few scrapes on my arm and wrist.

And a nice sized laceration on my hand.  Bastard.

Now, I’d learned just the day before from Leigh, who is travelling to Buhtan and had to get a rabies vaccination, that you can get rabies from a dog that licks its paws and then scratches you.  Funny how random information comes at opportune times.

“So, is your dog up to date on its rabies shots?”

“Oh did he bite you?”

Seriously?  Did he bite me?  No, the blood running down my arm is body art.  (Don’t worry, Mom, he was up to date with his rabies shots.)

To be completely fair to the dog, there is no reason that I should have picked him up.  No reason whatsoever.  If someone I didn’t know picked me up without warning, I’d probably bite them too.

Regardless, I got home, cleaned myself up and remembered my horoscope.  I’m hoping it’s as accurate about August 21:

“There are several cycles going on in your chart, all pointing to home-related changes that will help you to find the right solutions to any plans you have now.”

Please, oh please, let it be time to sell my house.

Portland is a giving city.

Many places have community gardens.  There are lots of cities where people put their old furniture and appliances on the curb with a “free” sign.   Portland, it seems, takes it a step further.

Like a lot of places, Portland is experiencing a renaissance of home vegetable gardens.

One of my co-workers brings in tomatoes from her garden, another brings in basil.  Another brings in squash and cucumbers from her family’s garden.  We share produce and recipes and the things that we make.  One of my co-workers even lives in a neighborhood where they share produce in a community overflow box.  Whatever overflow a family has from their garden, they put in the box, and other families trade for produce of their own.  Brilliant.

Just down the street from where I live, there’s a funky house that uses almost every square foot of its yard to grow food.  Sprinkled in the beds are children’s toys and ceramic figures.  In the strip of dirt between the sidewalk and the street sits a box labeled “FREE,” where the owners of the house place all manner of useful items.  Depending on the time of the year, the box holds shoes, gloves, blankets and coats.

It’s a little box of humanity, allowing those in need to help themselves, without having to knock on a stranger’s door and ask.

This week, when walking to dinner, I happened upon this.  If free is good, why not take it a step further and give someone their own door?

I mean really, why not?

I thought that my strangest day of work as a fundraiser would be last year when I was bit by Zeus, the parrot.  I may have been wrong.  That was the strangest day of last year’s event season.  This year’s strangest day of work was probably today when, dressed in spandex and a trash bag, I was stabbed repeatedly, in the neck, with a foam sword – by a grown man.

That was around the same time that a volunteer asked me if she needed a degree to apply for my job.

The funny thing is that, officially, you do need a degree to apply for my job.  I happen to have a law degree.  I think, however, I missed the day where they taught superhero attire, and how to get the shit beat out of you by a volunteer with a foam sword, while keeping a smile on your face.  That, it seems, isn’t something you can teach.

When I took this job, I wanted to learn how to fundraise.  I wanted to develop the skills that would allow me to make major gift asks, and the skills that would allow me to train others to raise money.  I wanted to conquer my paralyzing fear of cold calls.  I wanted to plan events.

Three years later, I’ve done all of those things.  I’ve gotten everything from the experience that I wanted when I started – and I picked up a little something else along the way.

Through the ups and downs, I’ve realized how useful a sense of humor and humility can be.

This isn’t just the case in strange, themed events.  It holds true with co-workers, when driving, while on the phone with telemarketers, on conference calls, in elevators, and pretty much anytime I have to interact with other people.

About the time I was getting to my knees for an adorable 5-year-old to beat me about the neck and head, my volunteer said “you have a Masters in Humility.”  I hope she was right.  If I take anything with me, I hope it is that.  I also hope that I never get bit by a parrot again – that really sucked.

Summer, to me, means fruit salad. I look forward to melons, cherries, plums and other lovely things.

This summer has been the summer of the “Berry Bowl.”

Of all my friends, Mr. Dave McCall (aka “McCool”) best understands my eating.  Every time I hang with his awesome family, I learn something new about what I’m eating, and about how it could be better (that’s a compliment – really!).

McCool gave me the base formula for the Berry Bowl.  Last time I saw him, he saved me from the sugar.  While everyone else was having brownies, he made me my first Berry Bowl.  Here’s what’s in the version I’m eating lately:

• Oats – just raw oats – the kind you’d use to slow cook oatmeal

• Watermelon – cube it up and toss it in

• Strawberries – that’s my least favorite part, but if you like ’em, use ’em

• Blueberries – I prefer frozen, and you can get a great deal on some lovely organic ones at New Seasons

• Cinnamon – get the good stuff in bulk (bulk spices rock!)

• Nuts – sliced almonds or chopped walnuts are great

• Agave/honey – McCool uses honey.  I prefer light agave.

• Milk/yogurt – I use soy milk.   If I’m eating it for breakfast, I’ll substitute vanilla yogurt.

Use a big bowl and stir it up.  I didn’t think the watermelon and milk would go at all, but they’re excellent together.  The watermelon is the perfect crunch.  I love the way the soy milk freezes between the blueberries, and makes the oats soft.

Some days I’ll have a Bowl for breakfast and one for dessert after dinner.  I’ll fill up a Tupperware (R) and pack it to work.  It’s a powerful thing to start your day slurping and crunching.  I find it makes my little office a happy place – a sticky place, but a happy place.

Enjoy!

About a year and a half ago I gave up refined sugar (for the most part).

On the way home from a bridal shower where I’d come alive from an anti-social stupor after snarfing a large piece of the shower cake, Leigh said to me, “maybe we should give up the refined sugar for a while.”

Like the addict I was I lost it.  “You can’t do that!  There’s sugar in everything!  It’s just not possible.”

After about 5 minutes of rationalizing, I heard myself and realized I had a problem.  The two of us laughed hard and decided maybe we should give up the sugar for a while.  (By the way, refined sugar isn’t in EVERYTHING.)

Being the pastry freak that I am, this was a challenge.  The hardest part was dessert after dinner.  As my grandfather always says, “you must have a little gliko (Greek for ‘sweet’) after every meal!”  So, I set to work researching the best, most natural, least processed sugar-substitute that I could use in baking, and started searching the internet for recipes.  I settled on agave and found a great peanut butter chocolate chip cookie recipe that I modified to use agave instead of a fruit-sweetener.

These cookies keep me sane. I make them practically all the time so that there have been very few days in the last year when these cookies haven’t been in the house.  When I bring them to work, arguments can break out if I don’t bring one for everyone.  I know at least one other person who is nearly as fanatical as I am about making these cookies.  She uses these to control her diabetes.   Don’t worry though, even with the whole-wheat flower and nut butter, there’s nothing medicinal about how these cookies taste.  The might be the best thing ever.  I’m just saying.

I consider them open-source, so let me know if you make improvements on the recipe.

Enjoy!

No-Sugar Peanut Butter Chocolate-Chip Cookies:
– 1 cup natural style nut butter. I use unsalted peanut but you could use salted if you like better (you can also use almond)

– put 2 tablespoons of water in a 2/3 cup measure. Add agave syrup to fill the 2/3 measure (I prefer dark, but light works too)
– 1 generous tsp vanilla

– 1 cup whole wheat pastry flour (For wheat-free, sub barley flower, or oat.  For gluten-free sub quinoa flour.)
– 1 1/2 tsp baking soda
– 1/2 tsp salt

– About 3/4 cup grain sweetened chocolate chips – or dark chocolate chips if you can’t find grain sweetened

Oven to 350 degrees, parchment paper on two cookie sheets (or butter them, or use nothing at all). Mix wet ingredients in mixer, add dry ingredients, beat until combined. Stir in chocolate chips. Make balls with heaping Tbsp of dough, then squish with a wet fork to get the traditional pattern. I use all the dough to make 12 cookies. I bake Exactly 10 minutes if I want them chewy. (These are easy to overcook due to their color – so watch closely, and take out when they are just barely browning on top.  Maybe start with 8 mins and check the underside of one cookie, just to be safe.  For barley, oat or quinoa, you might want to bake longer.)

Enjoy!