Cool cool kohlrabi

easy to peel without a martini

Tonight I experimented with kohlrabi, which I've quickly discovered translates to "sleep in separate rooms." Woo!

First of all, it's really really really good. Second, I couldn't find a resource for ways to peel it. It's such an unfamiliar root, it's hard to figure out how to prepare it. So, I took a before/after picture, in case you're interested. I mean, I might be late to the kohlrabi party, but maybe I'm not the absolute last person to show up.

There's this, like, chewy layer between the peel and the bulb that makes me think of undercooked bamboo--you know, the bamboo that comes in Chinese stir-fries? Only, those bits of bamboo are always coated in the mysterious brown sauce and are never, ever undercooked. So, I guess another comparison would be maybe the fibrous part inside the heart of the artichoke, only less hairy.

Third, it's high in fiber so...um...yeah. Groom is not sleeping in the same room with me.

I'm really excited about this new vegetable...tuber...I don't know what it is. It tastes like a mixture of a mild radish, a tiny bit of turnip, and a hint...just a hint...of pear. I cooked it with some baby kale, based on a recipe I found online, a dish the writer boasted would be a big hit at potlucks, so I knew I was on the correct path.

quinoa, mushrooms, fish, kohlrabi, kale

I went to a potluck back when I was living farther north on the coast in my late 20s, early 30s. A woman walking the buffet in her suffering sweater and long earrings and "Free Tibet" bumper sticker on her butt announced that she had brought the kale ("It's a great source of potassium!") and then just as loudly asked about the macaroni and cheese. "Who brought this?! I'm lactose intolerant."

Without realizing how my voice carried, I said, "Of course you are."

and pistachios

After I got a swat from my friend Amy, I didn't have the heart to then mention that kale interferes with the absorption of calcium. So, that woman is screwed in the osteoporosis battle. Her kale, however? Delicious.

Let's get back to the kohlrabi. I'm so super excited! We had a delicious meal, in less time than it takes to make homemade macaroni and cheese!

That sounded judge-y. Or, maybe, I think it's judge-y because I'm being judge-y. Honestly...smug is a color that looks good on nobody. Except maybe if you're Bono.

honestly it was this good

Anyhooo, today, I did mow the lawn for about an hour for my daily activity and I didn't die. Tonight's meal was mostly local and contained plenty of olive oil but no butter: fish from Plant's Seafood, vegetables from Swango Farm, herbs from our garden, and Ritz Crackers from Brackett's Market.

Heh. I put that last bit in to see if you were paying attention.

Smug

I got checked out last night at the grocery store. I kept making eye contact with this guy who was headed on the same shopping loop I was--you know how that goes. You see each other in produce; you bump into each other in the pasta aisle; you "oops..hehe-heh...sorry" as you try to get around the person at the yogurt cooler. Can we just universally embrace this weird phenomenon so we can just say, "Hey, we're on the same loop," and move about our day without that awkward moment where, yet again, you and that other person are racing for the same bottle of ketchup without actually acknowledging each other?

I bring up this particular guy who looked at me because I intentionally switched up the order of my shopping in order to avoid having an anonymous dance partner as I price-checked jars of tomato juice. I didn't know this guy. But, I saw him a couple of times, and each time. Bam. Full eye contact.

And, I'm sure he wasn't thinking, "Ooooh.... mamacita," unless he was also thinking, "You remind me of my mother... I hated my mother."

I'm at the age where, if I catch a guy looking at me, my immediate instinct is to run back to the car and get the hell out of there before he writes down my license plate number, hunts me down, and assaults me because he's a crazy person and I remind him of his evil mother. Back in my 20s, in the days I could leave the house without makeup and not have children run screaming from the Crypt Keeper, back when I had a thin waist and a flat stomach, I would have noticed the guy and been all, uh huh. You're never gonna get it.

Those days are over and now, instead of pulling all-nighters drinking Maker's and chasing away my hangover with a PBR, I'm pulling an all-nighter because I ate a cheeseburger and it didn't agree with my aging digestive system. (I hope that's the one and only time you ever click a link with the words "my aging digestive system" attached to it.)

I know there's a correlation between what I put in my body and how I'm going to feel (yeah yeah, I saw it as I typed it...that's what she said). But, I continue to ingest things that will make me feel poorly (poor? poorly? I always get tripped up on that). Will that third glass of wine make me feel crappy tomorrow? Probably. Will I have it anyway? Of course.

i feel smug taking this picture

The same goes for fried food. Will a basket of delicious and sweet fried Maine shrimp (that I kinda think are coming from Thailand but I'll ignore that for now) coupled with a giant cone of fries and followed by Anabelle's coffee ice cream make me feel like crap all night long and into the next day. Oh my god, yes. But I'm ordering that anyway because it is so yummy.

I have the same adverse reaction to zuchini. And summer squash. And, sadly, truffle oil. I continue to eat those items, too, because I like them.

i feel a lot less smug taking this picture

But, I can't deny, after eating fresh steamed vegetables with lemon last night, I feel pretty good today. And I'm aware today's lunch of quinoa and cold leftover vegetables with more lemon from last night will make me feel pretty good this afternoon. I'm lucky because I like that stuff.

I also happen to like the yummy red wine sausage from Sausage Kitchen with Morse's Sauerkraut that accompanied those vegetables last night. Tonight, I plan to cook up some kale and kohlrabi from our trip to the little farmstand yesterday with pistachios along with leftover quinoa from lunch today, but we all know I'll grill up a steak or slab of chicken...wait. Maybe I'll broil some fish instead. Hm.

annnnd we're smug again

I don't know whether you've tried kohlrabi; I sure haven't. So, I'll let you know how it goes.

For activity today, more lawn mowing. Let's see if I can last longer than an hour; yesterday really sucked. I should note, today is the last day of my accidental vacation. I did a tiny bit of work this morning, but I slipped back into my new habit of gazing at the water, petting the dog, and doing generally nothing, so that bit of work doesn't really count.

Consider the string pulled

I want to amend what I wrote yesterday. I've given it more thought and I realize, yes, I would have benefited from getting some form of structured exercise or activity when I was a kid, beyond the weird gymnastics program quasi daycare I attended after school. But, I did get exercise like most kids--organically.

When I was a kid, and I see kids today exhibiting the same behavior, I never noticed when I was tired or cold or inconvenienced. Well, I was very inconvenienced when my brother ate that special piece of cake I left in the fridge as a special treat for myself--god I still resent that--but that's different.

"Can I interest you in a nice cup of port?"

I would put a sweater on because my mom told me to put a sweater on or I would come out of the water--face dry, thank you very much--because it was getting dark out. Sure, I remember shivering and getting goose bumps, but that never stopped me from doing stuff around the neighborhood, climbing trees with my friend Gina and fantasizing about the city apartment we would have or swimming as far as I could with my friend Jenny. Now, I only feel that reckless abandon after a few too many cocktails, and it generally manifests itself as hedge diving in Newport during the boat show (hi Julie) or kayaking in the fog in the "too late to be out and too early to be up" hours to drink even more cocktails on an island before getting yelled at by the neighbors (hi guys).

I guess the trick is to do interesting physical things. A moonlight kayak with a group of pals, good. A jog/walk around a park with a friend, great. An hour on a treadmill with Headline News blasting in my face, bad. I don't want to focus on my body getting exercise. I want to know I got some exercise.

After saying all that, I have to confess I am still feeling under the weather. I did mow the lawn today, but I lasted only an hour before I had to stop abruptly and come inside to cool down, sit down, pull myself together. Maybe it's hormones (sorry to bring that up, fellas).

Hold on, there can't possibly be any fellas reading this, unless you're a fella reading this over your wife's shoulder or you're a fella who is married to me and wants to make sure I don't say anything untoward (hi Groom).

I came inside, dripping in sweat and all tomato redfaced and gulped back some water while holding a cold paper towel to my neck. I even made Groom check my pulse. Either I was having a panic attack or a stroke. Or I have Lyme. I'm pretty sure I have Lyme.

I put one of the Adirondack chairs in the shade, shooed away some of the poor Lost Boys ("he is never married") from the disturbed and destroyed wasp nest that used to be in our kitchen--"move along Keifer, nobody cares Coreys"--and watched a bunch of dragonflies eat all the mosquitoes in the yard. After about 20 minutes, my heart rate was back to normal and right now I feel fricking great. No, seriously. I feel better than I have for a couple of days. Note to self: Get the fuck out there and do something physical every single day, fatass. You'll be better for it.

Tonight, I think a light meal is in order. I'm heading to Shaw's to pick up some groceries (I know, shame on me), but my accidental vacation this week means I won't be sending out any invoices next week, which means, I'm won't be getting paid. So, I have to go with what's more affordable. I tried to convince myself that somehow I would be supporting the lovely David Shaw, founder of IDEXX and husband to the amazing Glenn Close, by shopping at Shaw's, but I looked it up. I don't think they are any relation. Shaw's does have its roots in Portland, but...no...it's not local.

percy's policy

Groom and I did swing by a little farmstand up the road to pick up a few vegetables. I was tired and cranky after lunch at Percy's, which is the best place ever. As I was walking through the parking lot, a woman said to me, "We have a lobster bake going on right now on the beach! Lobsters, steamers, corn on the cob for only $20! Come over!" When I explained that Groom and I had already ordered lunch, she insisted I buy a package "to enjoy for dinner." When I told her she should take a job in marketing, she exclaimed, "I'm getting my degree in marketing right now!"

This is the same place where, as I was waiting for an ice cream with my friend Erica a few summers ago, we were stopped in line by a large woman in overalls who asked us what our favorite nut is. "Mine is the walnut," she stated. "Ya got your peanuts and your pecans and cashews, but for my money, it's the walnut." And then she was gone.

This stuff does not happen at Subway. Or, at least not at the Subway in Bath. At most, you get shoved around by a bunch of angry youth and hope the clerk didn't put a booger in your BMT. I have no idea what BMT stands for, which is why I always remember that sandwich.

Huh. Clever marketing, that.

After Percy's, I was grumpy and tired and I didn't want to stop at the farmstand, but Groom insisted. And boy am I glad he did. They had these neat vegetables called "Kohlrabi," that you're supposed to boil and mash like cabbage, or as the guy selling them stated, "Just shred them over a salad. That's what I do."

if you wanna make the world a better place

This guy is the very reason I will go back there. He sat behind a table with a scale and a calculator with MJ blasting on his portable radio.  I'm looking at the man in the Mirror.... all the while, trying to convince Groom in the most authentic Downeast accent to buy a bunch of flowers for "the wife" because "it might get you a reward later."

Nothing that happened today would have happened if I weren't making a concerted effort to eat locally and get some form of activity into my day.

This is a long post. Sorry. I'm waiting for some clothes to dry before heading to the supermarket.  I guess that makes me chatty.

Uh oh

a few more loads but that's it

I can't seem to wake up. And, I don't mean in the "If you're not outraged, you're not paying attention" way the Occupy movement would have me wake up. I mean, literally. I cannot wake up. I know I've talked about having a general feeling of malaise and feeling under the weather. That remains. I'm just so damn tired. Groom asked whether I've been anywhere tropical where I may have contracted a sleeping sickness or brain fever, but my life isn't nearly that glamorous. Also, I'd like to think he would have noticed if I had taken off for a few weeks. Maybe not.

I never did anything physical yesterday, other than to assist Groom as he was assisting me with the bricks. At 3:00 in the afternoon, I went to bed. I got up again around 10pm when Groom came home from his fishing trip and then I was back in the sack until nearly 10:00 this morning. Whatever I'm fighting, I can't seem to shake it.

So, I'm taking it easy. HA! As if I'm not psyched to take it easy.

Today, I figured I would wait for the thunderstorms to pass before mowing the lawn for a few hours. Not gonna happen. Then I thought of jumping on the elliptical. Maaaybe. I also considered hopping in the car and driving over to our family place in Damariscotta and grabbing a canoe and getting some...I'm exhausted just typing that. 

Instead, today will likely consist of wrapping myself in a blanket and sitting in a comfy chair next to an open window. For what it's worth, exercise has never made me feel this contented and it's because sitting under a blanket with a full breeze conjures up two distinct memories or...sensations or...what have you.

I remember as a kid, I would travel to the Cape with one of my dad's former students--he taught high school math as a youngster and remained friends with some of the girls in his class. This woman would rent a cottage with her mom and they always brought me along for a week or so in the summer. I'm sure it was because I was the last kid still living at home and my dad wanted the house to himself for a week, but I had a special bond with this woman regardless of my father's motives.

i took this picture last year, but you get the idea

When we weren't combing the Yarmouth Christmas Tree Shop for the perfect placemats, I would curl up on a nylon-strap chaise lounge in the backyard. I had a penchant for classic novels, stemming from reading "A Little Princess" (in which heroine Sara Crewe's father dies of a brain fever contracted in India), and that evolved into a desire to learn as much as I could about everything to do with British society prior to World War I.

I don't remember why I was reluctant to go inside and get warm during those days on the Cape, but I do remember my dad's friend would come outside first with a blanket and eventually with a flashlight. She never made fun of me and she wouldn't ask me to come inside unless it was mealtime or bedtime.

The other memory involves hunkering down in our lake boat and covering myself in life jackets as my sisters and brothers insisted on taking a few more spins on their water skis while I shivered and complained. Why that makes me feel so contented now, I have no idea. But, I still love sleeping on an open boat under a blanket and I absolutely adore the sound of water splashing against a hull.

Interestingly, when I was "trapped" on the boat with my sisters and brothers when I was a kid, I would imagine I was warm in the car and the splashing water could be raindrops on a windshield. These days, I imagine the water on a car windshield to be water on a hull.

Wow. I am really screwed up.

My point here is this: I never exercised as a kid. I didn't play sports, unless you consider a weekly street hockey game in the 7th grade "playing a sport." I was never on a high-school team, except for a brief stint on the track team but, as I've mentioned before, I gave that up because the coach gave me the creeps. And, to be perfectly honest, I would walk rather than run when nobody was looking.

What I'm trying to say is, if I had grown up more active, instead of merely running to catch up with the older kids when they took off to play kickball up the street, I wonder if I would find the same comfort in getting exercise. If exercise felt the same way I feel when I sit by a window like a fictional Victorian heroine fighting consumption, I would definitely engage in it more.

But this right here right now, with the blanket and the warm coffee and the book? It's pretty nice. And it's a holiday, right?

Uh oh. Welcome to my Slippery Slope, which in this case is not a fallacy.

Accidental vacation

I got up this morning feeling slightly under the weather. Nothing serious, just one of those "meh" days that people who work from home can indulge in. I tried to shake it off with a shower, then I vacuumed the kitchen floor in preparation for some sweaty, endorphin-inducing mopping, but as I was pouring my coffee, I looked out the window and noticed my dog on his back rolling around in the grass.

It dawned on me that I am on something of an accidental vacation. I have a very busy schedule later this month and August is booked solid. Right now, however, I have no strict deadlines and no projects due. I wandered around the house looking at the dirty windows that need to be cleaned and the never-ending pile of laundry in the laundry room and the boxes of winter stuff that need to find a home, all the while making a mental list of the things I could do with my day.

After giving things considerable thought, I walked outside and joined the dog. I think he has the right idea. A northerly wind with moderately cool temps makes a pretty nice morning for drinking coffee and lounging in your back in the sun.

I was feeling pretty smug about my decision--look at me enjoying the day. As I scratched the dog, however, I noticed a small brown dot making its way to the dog's head. A frigging tick.

God, I hate nature.

Back inside. Today for activity, I will mow the lawn for a couple of hours, fold the laundry, and possibly mop the kitchen floor.

I just need to finish this cup of coffee first.

Thunder

Aunty Em! Aunty Em!

I woke up this morning with "Rio" by Hey Marseilles in my head, so that pretty much set the tone for the day. My fabulous and talented friend Bree introduced me to this band a few years ago. I vaguely remember seeing them perform in some warehouse on the outskirts of Boston after the bars had closed and, if memory serves, it was very much like the video I linked above. My brother was there as well, so if you're reading this, Bree, Paul...a little help?

The song Rio never ceases to cheer me up, but the band as a whole has a nostalgic, melancholy sound that leaves me with a general feeling of malaise that only the genius possess. I don't mind malaise, but it made for a weird day overall.

This afternoon between thunderstorms of both the internal and external variety, I spent a little time moving some of the last of the debris from our chimney. I thought the wheelbarrow was heavy when I was moving bricks from one side of the yard to the other but, holy mother of god, pushing it up a plank and emptying it into a dumpster is torture. It's an exercise in balance, strength, and humor. There's no way to look cool while doing it and there's no way to stay cool while doing it. (Heh-heh. Catch the double entendre? Heh.)

I swear my eyelids were sweating. And I'm pretty sure I now need a Tetanus shot after rubbing up against the rusty dumpster taking up half our driveway at the moment. I'm also pretty sure, one month ago, I couldn't have done what I did today. Progress!

Hard work, the kind that gives you callouses and sore muscles, is good. I think Joel should have put in more time doing yard work, frankly, and he definitely needed to get off the babysitter.

I'm moving these bricks as personal payment for our remodeled kitchen, as personal punishment for allowing my body to get so weak, and as personal...I can't think of another "p" word, so I'm going with personal enlightenment (ugh) to remind myself people do this kind of work all the time for very little money. Things got a little zen for a while as I spent time in my brain just sort of sussing things out. It's good to spend some time in your brain contemplating things like, why are so many of my Bethel-area FB friends posting the same meme about welfare and didn't we already know Anderson Cooper is gay?

I smell like a man after a hot afternoon of labor. I'm off to crack a Coors and smoke a Winston. 

Dog days

ugh...i....can't....

Well, I did it. I actually got up yesterday at 5:30am and hopped on the elliptical machine for 20 minutes before embarking on a very long day. It was the worst 20 minutes of my life. I would get off the machine and stare at the numbers....okay....I can go 15 more minutes.... I can go 11 more minutes. So, now I know. Mornings? Not so good for me. But, I got my daily activity in. I'm trying not to be smug about it.

I'm also trying to get into the habit of stretching and massaging my wounded IT band, which is literally a huge pain in the ass. But I have my foam roller and three-pronged massager, which I brought home from the apartment in Bethel--I had conveniently forgotten I had them...hunh--and I've been groaning my way through. The pain is pretty severe, so if you're not a runner/speed walker and you're going to start working those legs, do yourself a favor. Stretch.

I also grabbed my fitness ball to do situps. (I just laughed out loud. I'm not doing any situps on the fitness ball. If anything, I'll probably use it as an office chair.)

instruments of torture

(Ha! That made me laugh even more.)

I just noticed my fitness ball is from a company calling itself "Fitness After 40 by Vonda Wright." I don't know why, but that really irritates me. Did this fitness ball come with hormone pills and a running John Hughes montage? Is John Cusack going to be my personal trainer? What makes it for people over 40?

shut up, Vonda

I have to say it again, though. I really am noticing a difference. I can still balance a tray on the shelf that serves as the top of my substantial tuchus, but I feel good. In fact, I called a friend on the phone yesterday morning and while leaving her a message, I broke into nearly hysterical giggles because the endorphins were raging through my body. Exercise is making me very very happy so, I'm pleased to report, Groom is safe for now.

I spent the day on a boat yesterday, about two to three hours in some huge rollers. Boating can be really exhausting (I will put a dollar in a douchebag jar for that comment). But, I noticed I was able to keep up with the boat rolling and slamming because my core was fully engaged. A day on a boat can lead to lower back pain and just an overall sense of feeling banged up. Instead, I was just sun tired at the end of the day.

i swear it's really tough to be out there all day

I was accompanying a woman who was delivering her boat to Southport. My role was to coil lines and generally irritate her with my constant chatter. This is a friend who once said to me, while we were driving to Boston together, "Dev, you don't have to mention every single thing that pops into your head, you know." So, I know. She filters out most of my comments about the other boats, the birds, the waves, the sky, the thing I heard on the radio this morning, the type of coffee I like to drink.... She speculated that maybe this blog is an outlet for that part of my personality. I can't argue with that.

I realized yesterday that this woman is also a bit of an inspiration for my new life plan. She started working out last summer and has been doing it regularly for a year. I can see the difference for sure. She mentioned that she hasn't lost weight, but I don't think that's important. She hopped about the boat, leaned over the railing, climbed from dinghy to dock without a single zombie noise. She looks comfortable, and not in the "I wear an elastic waistband on my slacks" kind of comfortable. It's inspiring.

So, I say to you, if you're reading this and think you can't get outside for a little activity: Think again. I feel great and all I do is park farther away from the restaurant so I'm forced to walk an extra block; I walk to the store instead of driving; I hold my body still in the car with my stomach muscles rather than my arms. Yes, I have the luxury of hopping on the elliptical because I have one in our house, but you can mop the floor and get just as much of a workout. Trust me. I was sweating my balls off the other day with a mop in my hand.

too hot for the critters

Speaking of parking farther away from the restaurant, I have to mention that I chose Shaw's over the more local Brackett's to pick up some fruit for our boat ride yesterday. I realize, when I have the dog with me, my "shop locally" edict gets much more challenging. If there's no shade on a hot day or if there's nowhere for me to safely park the car with the windows down, I have to move on. For coffee, since we have none in the house, I had to opt for drive-thru coffee from DoDo's. I would have preferred Cafe Creme in Bath, but I didn't want this to happen to me.

This morning, after an evening in Boothbay Harbor that included a visit to the sweetest little olive oil shop (they sell a strawberry-infused balsamic that knocks me out) before a late dinner at Boathouse Bistro, I limped back to Bath to grab a yummy coffee treat at Cafe Creme where I saw all the Sunday morning couples with their wet hair and comfy clothes sipping lattes and reading the paper over shared scones. I hopped on the elliptical at home for a few minutes and took a nap. Perfect Sunday. We're getting a heavy downpour right now, which is cooling things off.

You know all this rain on a hot summer day is just everyone's sweat coming back down after rising into the clouds, right?