Different Thoughts of the day

I went up to my husbands former employer today to deal with our 401 K, scary hu? His boss is married to a really preety lady that has been intimidating to me in the past. But today I was ok, I think I am feeling secure enough with myself that I didn't feel intimidated.



One thing though that has been on my mind is the differance in the amount of money that we have. It's not really an envy thing, I really appreciate what I have, but it did cause me to rethink my priorities a bit.



For one thing, they have a lot more at stake than we do in their 401 K. That is good in some ways, and of course if the US economy grows and keeps going then they are better off. But what if there is the off chance that the US economy totally flops? What if inflation grows totally out of control and the value of peoples portfollios is completely wiped out. They having a lot more will feel a lot worse than I would. What if I lost everything? Well right now, I feel secure in the idea that I will be taken care of. I know it seems naieve but that is how things have worked out for me. about 6 years ago we did lose just about everything and I was scared stiff. We had no car, no jobs, no money. What did I do? I prayed my guts out and worked through our problems to find a solution. Things worked out.



So this line of thinking led me to think about my general attitude about things. I realized that I have a bit of a defense mechanizim for when things get out of my control, I just let go. I stop thinking about what is bothering me. Our money situation and our business have really been bothering me, I have no control over it and I have had to let go. But that leads to problems. I get really aimless about life. It is hard to figure out what to do with myself and I let other important things slide also. So today, I took a look at what was happening and grabbed a hold of the reigns and started doing something productive again. Just in the nick of time I hope. Of course I haven't let everything slide, but it feels good to be trying a bit harder again.

Well I think I had better get to sleep, I will write more on this line of thinking later.

~Strawberry Girl

Why don't I like Desperate Housewifes (or reality TV)?

Well, as far as I can tell, these shows are based off of incredibly shallow plots and an extraordinary amount of stupidity is made manifest by most of these shows and most of what is on television today anyway.

Does this mean that I think of myself as extraordinarily intelligent, in fact no, I feel quite stupid most of the time. Although I wish that this were not so. In fact I have so many great books and even books on art and culture that I really mean to get to and understand. Yet I don't somehow get to them. It must be in the way I conduct my day, I have never liked to get up early because that always seemed like a waste of good sleep and it is a small rebellion since I have this idea that if you get up early you should exercise. Not that I don't like to exercise, in fact it is a favorite hobby (strangly enough). But I think I will do myself a favor and get up earlier to read, maybe I can get past this frustrating block which is keeping me from it.

I am reading a very much celebrated book called The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann. It is a rather long way of getting accross his thoughts on the peculiarity of time, which I have thought about myself. I was up once, very late, sitting cross legged on the rug. I had one of those trippy moments when you think somehow outside of yourself. I was thinking about the different realities of people all around me. How some were sleeping, totally unaware of the passage of time, and some were either driving around or working (which I thought at the time would make one all to aware of the lateness of the hour). I had this thought, that there really was no time at all. If you were awake all of the time there would be no beginning or end, there would only be "now." No yesterday or today, only the present.

One book that was rather difficult for me to read was "Love In The Time of Cholera" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I knew that it was a literary masterpiece. I loved how vivid the characters became. It was very interesting, yet, very difficult to read. Marquez is even more learned than I. He has a better grasp on the english language than I, who have been speaking english since my birth. I had to read with a dictionary at hand and still found it tedious because I was constantly looking things up and frustrated because I couldn't keep the definitions of all of those words fixed in my head. Then the book was difficult also because of how freely Marquez treats the subject of sexuality. I have been raised a good LDS (Mormon) girl. Truly I find a great deal of happiness from my religion. Yet this also makes it difficult to try and get through such a symbolic book, seeped with pornographic imagry. It made me very ill to read this book though at the same time I was facinated by the story. Plus the story is very tragic, very difficult to accept, I guess you could say that it is a great treatsie on fate.

A little maturity and objectiveness allows me to look at great works of art with a critical eye. Such as Da Vinci's venturian (sic) man or other such works of art. What beauty and form the artist finds in the human body. Yet by very nature I hate the baseness that some people have in the viewing of others bodies. I prefer or try to see others souls, that is how I feel people out. I am naievly unprepared for those who view life through the base, bodily form. It is irritating to me that men in particular are so fixated upon it, yet that is how it is. Of course I do notice when someone looks healthy or well, and I do find myself stupidly comparing myself to other women (a lot, cure the habit). Of course I like the male form, but I am not overly fixated on it.

I celebrate the enobling effects of good nutrition and exercise. It is truly satisfying to see others feel well, and be able to converse with someone who's mind is clear. I am patient with others though who don't understand how wonderful they could feel, because I too was stuck in the rut of the SAD (Standard American Diet) diet.

I had a girl from Argentina remark to me about how horrible the food is over here, and about how we did not dance at parties (You know I really am horrible at geography and I am trying to figure out how to fix this lack). She was so lively, explaining, even with very little english, how the parents would save the candy from the Pinyata (sic), and how they made the children dance before they could hit it. Man, that is a culture that is facinating to me.

How dull Americans can be, with their habits. Their food, digusting hot dogs, potato chips, and random salads, bland, bland bland. Their habits, limited social interaction, not much warmth. Jealousy's and pettiness, which I guess can be found anywhere, but nevertheless distasteful. No wonder so many of my friends have turned with desparation to the colorful variety of food found around the world.

My family sadly is very dull when it comes to this kind of thing. My grandmother however was a lady of refinement and taste, she had interesting parties, of which I have pictures but very few memories. How I wish I could have an interesting party sometime, with people who were educated enough to hold intelligent and insightful conversations.

Tongans (my husbands family) are good for parties, very Americanized parties, with more food than their guests could possibly eat. They do not sit around and hold learned conversations, as far as I can tell anyway because I don't speak Tongan, though I do understand quite a bit. I did read a book by a man who was trying to save the Samoan rainforest who definantly discovered a great deal of interesting culture, a lot of the same culture that Tongans have and are still steeped in over in Tonga. They hate any comparison with Samoans though because they are enemies with them.

Well, I guess I have been writing quite a bit of nonsense, but it feels good to write it all out. I hope you are all having a good day.

~Strawberry Girl

Fate and the miracle of a human life.

I want this blog to be a way to dredge out, from the bottom of my soul the things that are constantly going through my mind about life.

But, that's just it, my kids are a miracle. They are not white like me, they are half Tongan, and they are absolutely beautiful. What is awe inspiring is that they are a part of me, if I think about it enough and look in the mirror, then I am amazed that I am a part of a long line of people. I had a moment, when I was feeling really lost. I stayed up late looking through an album that my Grandmother had put together. I don't know anyone in the album except my Grandma and Grandpa and my Dad and Uncle Mo (somehow I can't just call him Uncle, it's always Uncle Mo).

My Grandpa was a really gruff guy, I didn't know him at all. He always seemed like the mean, grumpy, old guy that we had to call grandpa. I was always wishing that he had been nice like grandpa's that you see on t.v. or in books. I never even knew that he loved me, until way later, after my grandma died and I was helping to take care of him. I went up about 2 times a week and felt guilty for not going more often. His house stank, he sat around all day, he was totally devastated by the death of my grandmother and sat in his depressed stupor for 5 years until he finally passed away about 2 day's before the anniversary of her passing.

I went up to clean, but it really reeked and it was hard to be around him, I didn't really know how to handle it. But I always tried to give him a hug and told him I loved him. One day, about a month before he died, as I was giving him a hug he said "I love you sweetheart," to me. I gasped and told him I loved him to. I cried when I got to my car, I had never expected to hear that.

My mom now tells me about how he worried over us all the time, how important we were to him. He was a WW2 vet. and had a piece of shrapnel in his leg that they wouldn't take out (I don't know why). As I looked at pictures of him, with my grandma and their first son Mo, I think of the young man that he used to be. Then as I think about it, I realize that I am a part of him, he is a part of me.

My Grandmother was a beautiful woman, and I admired her. Then I realized that I am a part of her also. I kept looking at pictures, people far back and I was concentrating on their features. Then I went upstairs and looked in the mirror, really looked. I could see features, the shape of my body, the curve of my brow, my nose, my chin, that I had never thought about before.

I feel a great sense of awe about how those noble people lived out their lives, lived and breathed and I was a part of them. Now as I snuggle with my children, and concentrate on them, I can see the same similarities. The shrug of my daughters shoulders, the concentration in my sons face, their hopes and dreams. I have gone through the same things and felt the same way, once upon a time.

I also see their Dad in them, and his mothers side and of course his father but I know so little about him. My husband's mom died when he was 6 months old, and he was raised by being passed around from family to family his dad couldn't handle raising him and his brothers. I am mom to him, sometimes it bugs me that he acts this way. We were married when I was 16 years old. It has taken forever to grow up, I have felt such a sense of loss. My cousins have all had fun travelling and being single. I had to be Mom, way too young. Plus my marriage has been very hard, there have been so many things that could have broken it. In fact I still live with scars, sometimes when I run it is because I cannot escape from the scars. I hope that things work out though.

But here is another thought on the miracle of life. We somehow are a part of everything we eat, everything we drink. There are molecules in the air that have never changed and we are breathing the same air that the dinosaurs, Gandhi, Queen Elizabeth, Jesus, has breathed. I watched a show about it, there are not that many molecules and so everyone breathes them eventually.

The apple that I ate this morning, the pine nuts, part of trees in the wilderness soaking in the sun. The water, cascading down the mountain, coursing through the streams to the reservoir. I wish I could get it from a mountain spring instead of from a treatment plant that "treats" it before I get it. Maseru Emoto has done studies on water. There is this "rice" experiment that my friend is conducting, because she read the book, where you "talk" to cooked rice and see what happens. There are a lot of videos on You Tube where people have done this experiment, it is very interesting. You say nice things to one jar of rice and mean things to another and the jar that you say nice things to doesn't rot like the one where you say mean things to.

Imagine your beautiful unique body, first a very small egg and sperm. Then cells dividing, becoming the person who you are now. I respect the right of my children to grow up in a good home environment. Sometimes I get a bit distracted and don't do the best job that I can, but I try. I will protect them, and I wish they would listen to me, because candy and so many things in this world are harmful to their bodies.

But I guess that's enough of this Tome (book) for now.

~Strawberry Girl

Why do I waste so much time?

I don't know what it is, but I keep waiting for something to happen. It's like I am in this rut and I just wish it would go away and that something exciting would happen.

Today, I accidently backed into someones car, when I was trying to turn around. The street they were parked on is super narrow and their car is low and I have to drive around monster Yukon (not by choice). I hate having to drive this big ol' truck around. It's a gas guzzler and not my style either.

Anyway, besides for that I had better get going and do something with my day. I think I will go for a run. I should also read my book, that everyone say's is great but I am still trying to get into it. Well gotta dash.

~Strawberry Girl

Wild Strawberries

Imagine that you are walking in a field, there are numerous streams here and there all flowing down to a beautiful crystal clear lake. The field is full of green grasses and beautiful surprizes. Hiding in small clusters are these little plants with snowy white star shaped flowers and as you look closer you discover little red strawberries, as bright as the sun and they taste like the sun as well. They are tender and warm and delicious. This is one of the reasons why I love strawberries. Here is a picture I found on the internet of wild strawberries.

I hope they make you feel happy and that your day is great.

~Strawberry Girl

Hair Dressing and Backyard adventures

Today, I went in to get my hair colored. It was a hectic day, since I had my carpets cleaned earlier and I totally cleaned out my closet in the living room and threw out a bunch of stuff.

I am so glad I found this hairstylist, she advertised on craigslist for free haircuts. So I thought “hmm I wonder if it’s a student?” Luckily for me she is a former shop owner who wanted to work from home and is trying to attract clients. So she’s been cutting hair for 17 years and she gave me such a good hair cut that I gave her $8 dollars for it and then came back today for a weave. It is a little bit lighter than I wanted, but it’s not so bad that I hate it. This reminds me of one of my first “professional” hair dye jobs. My mom brought me to a student hair school and I got a real fine job done, about the brightest beach bottle blonde that you can imagine. I had to go to school the next day with it, the mean girls had fun with that one.

Anyway, I have been thinking about what it was like in my backyard as a kid. We had a decent sized back yard for a duplex apartment and my dad liked to grow stuff. He had these large gardens that always seemed to get overgrown. One year, when I was about 15/16 he had gone way overboard on the miracle grow, so the back yard was like a jungle, just the way I liked it.

I can remember how comforting it was to me to know that there were so many thriving plants outside. I would lay in my bed by the window and look up at the bright moon. My room was on the second floor and the garden was right outside my bedroom. There were also these tall trees, back further behind the fence, that would shake in the wind. Especially during a storm, for some reason this sound is comforting to me.

We were also fairly close to the railroad tracks. Not so close that the train clickety clacked right by our house, but close enough that I could hear the lonely whistle blow, right before bed. It seemed to me that the sound of the train whistle was a reminder to slow down a little and think of what was going on in my life.

I am a very reflective creature and I love to have a nice garden to walk in when I want to think. Sometimes when I was troubled I would rise from my bed, with tears threatening, and I would walk out barefoot to the garden. We had stones set along side our house that I would step on each in turn to get out back. I would hold off on crying, and I would take a deep breath, this would calm and soothe me.

I would either find myself in a swing, which I would slowly rock back and forth in, or I would find the wooden bench that my dad had placed in the garden. This was half of a picnic table that folded into a bench. It was by small pink wild roses, their smell is spicy, not at all like the rose that reveals itself from a bud. I would breathe deeply, calmed by the sound of the crickets chirping somewhere in the distance.

If I was really troubled, I would climb through the hole in the fence out into the untamed wild beyond our backyard. This lot was really like a piece of wilderness cut out and preserved all around by fenced back yards.

I knew all of the ways into and out of this lot, as well as my brother. It was our paradise, we called it “the snake pit.” So christened by chance because we had found a plastic pool and upon lifting it discovered some worms. My brother, wanting to scare me, mentioned that there might be snakes in the pit, so the snake pit it was from then on. We were really very imaginative kids, and made much of our lot (actually belonging to the grumpy guy behind us, he played a part in our imaginative lore).

As I said, if I was really troubled I would walk through the hole in the fence (it was a wooden fence with a board missing, that dad never seemed to fix). I would listen to the sound of the trees, rustling, unsettled. The grasses grew tall around me, enclosing me in their world. I would make my way over a large pile of concrete, that was dumped randomly in the middle of the lot. Since it was surrounded by trees it seemed like part of the wilderness. I would go and find a place to lay, among the wildness of the tall grass, there I could cry. There my dad and his angry words could not touch me, I could never speak what I really thought around him. Sometimes I would scream, out into the darkness, muffled by my arm because I really knew that I was surrounded by houses and what would they think. It was so soothing to lay there, my tears would dry and I would feel immensely better. Strange how it is so hard for me to cry now, even when I am really upset. Maybe it is because my wilderness is gone, my freedom.

That is partially why I love to walk near the river. It is the same river trail that ran a couple of blocks from my home when I was growing up, I retreated there with my brother many times. This part of the trail is further down. When I was growing up I never walked up to where the trail is by my house. It was like that part of the trail belonged to the future, and it does. It is strange now to walk all the way down to where I used to haunt the river, that part of the trail belongs to the past.

How I wish I could guess, where the future is headed now. I have been so unsettled, trying to figure out who I am. Because I have felt so lost these long years, eating food that made me feel sick.

It is funny when I come across something that truly resonates with me, I hold on tight to it. Like Strawberry Shortcake, the old fashioned version, the new version does very little for me. I have found that I like deep red, the dark pink, teal green, and a certain shade of blue. I'm not sure if it is because of Strawberry Shortcake or not, but those are some of the colors that the artist uses for her. I wonder if the colors you like reveal anything about you. Maybe they do, I used to only be able to wear blacks and dark grey’s, maybe it was because of my mood. My little sister is entrenched in black and has now colored her hair black, I was never that bad, I am kind of scared for her.

I guess I had better get to bed, I really need the sleep because tomorrow is going to be another busy day.

~Strawberry Girl

Great Gobs of Corn Syrup

Well, well, well

I saw an interesting ad the other day. A lady and her fellow are relaxing on the grass having a picnic. She offers him 1 red popsicle and he say's "I thought you loved me?" and she say's "What?" He say's doesn't that popsicle contain High Fructose Corn Syrup and she say's "So?" and he say's "isn't that stuff bad for you?" and he seems a bit puzzled as to why. She tells him that "A little bit is safe for you, it's just a popsicle" or something to that effect.

This certainly points out the general confusion and misinformation on HFCS, but it does so in a way that play's on our fear of being "Paranoid" or different. HFCS, it's safe, right? NOT AT ALL, Don't be fooled. Here is an excerpt from an article by Dr. Mercola. I have actually read on this further and they are working hard over in Australlia to ban this stuff. Here is the excerpt

"Part of what makes HFCS such an unhealthy product is that it is metabolized to fat in your body far more rapidly than any other sugar, and, because most fructose is consumed in liquid form, its negative metabolic effects are significantly magnified.
Whereas the glucose in other sugars is used by your body, and is converted to blood glucose, fructose is a relatively unregulated source of fuel that your liver converts to fat and cholesterol."

Here is a link to this article:

http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2008/09/23/dramatic-example-of-how-the-food-industry-lies-to-you-about-corn.aspx?source=nl

Don't be fooled.

~Strawberry Girl

Life, enjoyable life!!

I guess that my last post sounded a bit harsh, with my opinion of junk food. Don't think I don't eat sweets or good food. To the contrary, I get to eat absolutely the best food in the world. Let me expound on that:

Last night I ate delicious Muligatawny soup, for a snack I had some tortilla chips with cream cheese type cultured Macadamia nut pulp. For a salad earlier I had a spring lettuce mix with sunflower sprouts and a sweet coconut vinegar dressing, yummy.

Tonight I had roasted free range chicken with steamed veggies covered with the yummiest butter from a pasture raised cow (it is chock full of good omega 3's and CLA's). In fact I get to enjoy this butter whenever I feel like it because I know it is good for me. For dessert I had a decadent Xocai chocolate nugget.

I get to enjoy the outdoors, now that my body feels happy to be there. Everyday I look off to the mountains, they are so beautiful. Rich verdant green mountains in front of a purplish red one. I can see clear back into them and imagine that I am walking among them. The river as I walk is soothing, rushing over rocky barriers, splashing and roaring over the waterfalls. Yet I am aware of the pollution in the river, I cringe to see the murk gathering behind rocky barriers and debris all along the trail and in the river. Plus there is the ever present graffiti along on anything big enough to write on. Also my soul cry's when I see someone sitting on the side of the trail, looking lost, dazed, ill. My spirit is revived when I see animals and wildlife. There is a big population of quail that call the river trail home. Plus there are usually ducks, and mud dobbers along the bridges. One day there was this dog, happiest creature in the world for he had gotten loose and was free (for the time being). He loped along, running, running, dashing in the water. Back and forth going up to friendly people and then dashing off before they could touch him. Then also there is the sound of the wind. How reviving it is to feel it rushing over you, blowing all of your cares away. Rustling the leaves, cleaning the air. Man, how I missed so much when I was eating an unhealthy diet (plus foods that I had an allergy to). I want to cry over how much I have missed. Every year we go up to a family reunion in the mountains. One year we got clear up to this beautiful verdant valley, and all I could do was sit there, tense, with a ringing in my ears that wouldn't go away (I never thought that it would go away, but it has, HA doctors). I wanted so badly to relax, man that was sad. Then there were the trips that we would take to the sand dunes, beautiful, I couldn't take too much of it, I would end up in the car. I remember laying out with my dad and my cousins. My dad was explaining the stars to us, I remember being so frustrated because I couldn't follow what he was saying and everyone else seemed to be getting it. Then there were the hikes that we have gone on, I couldn't make it very far without being exhausted and I had to sit down, how sad, so very sad. I never, ever, ever want to feel that way again. I wish I could give someone that feels like that 10 minutes of how I feel today, just so that they might believe me when I tell them that what they eat is vitally important. Man, life can be so good and enjoyable. That's what I would like to say (although I sometimes get in a prosaic mood and whatever I say, no matter what, comes out preachy and self righteous, grrr.)

Goodnight to you all,

~Strawberry Girl

I Can RUN!!!

Imagine the kid running in the back of the crowd in school, panting, wheezing, lungs on fire after 10 steps, that was me, it was pathetic.

Today, I have made a breakthrough!! I never thought it would be possible, I ran for 10 minutes straight!!! I think I could have ran longer but I wanted to cool down before I got home. It is a miricle!! My lungs did not burn, my head did not ache, my muscles responded and worked instead of ceasing up. FOOD IS EVERYTHING to your health!! The greatest truth I have found, besides God, is that the food you eat will determine how healthy you are. I don't mean that your "not sick," I mean how well your body will function. I wish my family would "get it," but they don't. It is probably the greatest source of contention (besides money) in my life right now. People say, well eating a treat now and then won't hurt you. Yes it will, it absolutely will, but your body will recover better if you eat mostly diet free of processed foods and high in raw veggies (and a bit of fruit). Does this make me sound fanatical? I know it does, so I don't go around espousing my view to everyone, I usually only talk about it to those who "get it."
I allow people to believe the "little bit" of bad view, because they don't want to believe otherwise and I don't think that you should push your view point on anyone. It is a bit irritating though because I feel so good. I say "Break off The Shakles," almost everything that I ate before was bad for me. Sad, but what can I say.

Anyhow, now for something amusing. Today I saw some ducks at the river, it was funny how they would totally invert themselves somehow paddling with their head down in the water, looking for minnows. Ducks are definantly talented creatures. Also amusing it my attempt at guacamole today. Man, the recipe looks easy, I don't know what I did wrong but my guacamole tasted strange. I am definantly going to have to do a major internet search on guacamole recipes and try and work it out right. I ate my strange guacamole anyway, because I had some blue corn chips that were begging for something to dip them in. (Yes blue corn chips are relatively healthy, or I wouldn't eat them right?)Ah well, next time.

That's all for now,

~Strawberry Girl

Failed Cooking Experiments. . .

OK I confess, I experiment a lot, but that is a good thing. Right now I think that I make the best darn chicken soup out there (or at least in my world). It is a basic recipe that can be moulded one way or another. Sometimes it is a basic chicken and veggies, or chicken and rice, my current favorite is a play on yummy muligatawny soup (with curry and coconut milk). I have made different types of gluten free breads with varying success, in those cases I found that I wasn't feeling very healthy eating them, so I have been holding back on those until I can increase my reprotire of knowledge on which recipes work and look good. Last week I made a fairly decent Oatmeal and Millet based bread, I think I will work with that a bit more.

Now for the experiment that is the most amusing to me and which prompted me to write it down. I got into a mexican cooking kick, most likely because I love the food (Yum). So I found numerous recipe's to start experimenting with. I got fairly good at Pico di galo. I made homemade corn tortillas. Then I decided to take on what is what I consider to be one of the biggest projects, homemade Tamales. It took me a while to prepare myself to try this out. I bought the necessary equipment (a stainless steel steamer pot) and bought Masa, and chile's and of course a big hunk of meat. Then there was the difficulty of which type of fat to use in the preparation of the Masa, of course Lard is the best to use for this, but I had been adverse to buying and using Lard in the past considering it to be very fattening and bad for your arteries. After some research I found some vegetarian recipes that used olive oil. Being that I am or was very ignorant on what would happen, I thought that it would make a good substitute. So I got making my Tamales and the meat turned out really well, juicy and flavorful. I wasn't really thinking about how the Masa dough would turn out. So I made a whole bunch of them. Unfortunantly for me, my sons little friend came over. His grandma is very good at making Tamales and he smelled the Masa cooking. So he was hanging around and although I was uneasy serving an untested recipe I told him he could try them, but I warned him that they were not the same. Boy oh boy they definantly were not. The olive oil gave them a nice delicate bitter taste, not at all yummy. But he was a polite kid, he ate his Tamale and didn't complain. I gave everyone some yummy cookies to make up for it. But I am sure that he won't want to try my Tamales again. I did some more research and found some Pricy Organic Lard from an Amish farm. This makes acceptable, although I know they are not authentic, Tamales. My daughter is totally hooked. I have found that the best Tamales that I have turned out took just a bit of common sense, some carmelized onions and spices added to the meat. Enough Lard and flavorful stock to the dough. Boy those type of Tamales are good.

As to other cooking experiments. I have found that cooking with whole, real foods usually turns out good food (and simple is usually better). I am frustrated though that even when I cook an excellent meal, no one really appreciates it. So I have hit a bit of a block on my cooking, but I am still trying, because I love to experiment. When I do find something that works, it is so gratifying. Anyway, maybe I will make a little food blog. Because I am into that type of thing, and I will attach it as a link to this blog.

~Strawberry Girl