Sunday, March 24, 2013

My latest, greatest soup

I'm obsessed with this soup. It's been a cold, dreary March in these parts, and a bowl of this deliciousness has warmed me up on multiple occasions this month. With April fast approaching and snow in the forecast this week (?!), I'm pretty sure I'll be making it again soon.


This soup is hearty without being too filling, comforting while still being healthy, and jam-packed with flavor. Give it a try. And bonus - it's totally doable on a weeknight. One note: don't skip the garlic oil topping. I thought I didn't need it, and then realized what I've been missing all these years. Garlic oil should top everything.


Sausage, Chard, and Lentil Soup
Adapted from Smitten Kitchen
Serves 4-6, depending on appetites. (Serves only 4 in my house.)
 
 
Ingredients
- 1/2 cup olive oil, divided
- 2 large links of sweet Italian sausage, casings removed
- 1 medium onion, diced
- 2 celery stalks, sliced or diced
- 2 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into half-moons or diced
- 4 cloves garlic, sliced (reserve half for later in recipe)
- Kosher salt
- A pinch of crushed red pepper flakes
- 1 cup brown lentils, sorted and rinsed
- 2 bay leaves
- 1 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes
- 6 cups water
- Freshly ground black pepper
- 3 to 4 cups shredded or thinly ribboned Swiss chard leaves (kale works, too)
- Grated Pecorino Romano cheese to finish

Directions
- Heat 1/4 cup olive oil in a large pot on medium heat. When hot, add the sausage, breaking it up with a wooden spoon until it starts to brown, about five minutes.
- Add the onion, celery, carrots, first two garlic cloves, a pinch of salt, and a pinch of red pepper flakes. Cook with the sausage until the vegetables soften a bit, another 5 minutes.
- Add the lentils, bay leaves, tomatoes, water (6 cups = two of your empty tomato can), more salt and black pepper to taste.
- Bring to a simmer and allow to cook until the lentils are tender, about 40 minutes.
- When the lentils are cooked, add the chard and cook until the leaves are tender, just a few minutes more. Discard the bay leaves.
- To finish, divide soup among bowls, then add the remaining 1/4 cup olive oil and 2 garlic cloves to a small skillet and heat over medium until the garlic softens and hisses. Drizzle this over soup bowls, and top with fresh Romano, passing more at the table.

Monday, March 18, 2013

The worst and the best of it.

People ask: what's the worst thing about IVF? Well...
  1. The cost. I already complained about this one. Holy CRAP, the cost. It's absolutely debilitating. Enough said.
  2. The side effects. If I was one to post photos of my stomach online, I could show you. I'd show you the span of bruises, a range of sizes and colors, ringing my entire abdomen. I'd show you how pregnant I look before an egg retrieval, belly as full and round as I imagine it might look in happier times. Baseball-size ovaries feel just like you think they would, actually. And the fatigue is a new level of fatigue, of a body doing things it's not meant to and continually asking you why. Everything hurts... a lot. 
  3. The alienation. An IVF cycle takes over your life. There's really no other way to put it. You can't leave town. You have to show up to the clinic nearly every day. You have to stay off your feet and can't do anything remotely active at all. You are an incubator, plain and simple. The only way to feel more normal through it all is to try and pretend that it's not taking over your life, pretend to be normal. And so you try to be normal with people who don't understand what's happening and you fail miserably. Faking normality is painful. And then you just give in and let it take over your life for real. You become a hermit.
  4. The reaction. Is there a worse feeling than trying desperately to be happy for someone else's good fortune, but failing? IVF girls know what I mean here, and it's heartbreaking. Feeling like a bad friend is the worst feeling of all. I'm so very happy for your pregnancy conceived after one month of trying... now please let me shut myself away for the next three days. It only gets harder over time.
  5. The "What If?" What if we go through all of this again, and it still doesn't work? How many times can we try? How old will I be then? How broke? When do we switch to Plan B? What is Plan B?

And now, let's do something that used to come much more naturally to me. What's the best thing about IVF?

  1. The science. Without a doubt, the science of IVF is some cool shit. I'm not a science girl, either, and this stuff amazes me. Our bodies are amazing on their own. But the ways brilliant people have devised to help biology along? Astounding. Growing dozens more eggs at a time than our bodies normally produce in a cycle is painful as hell, but the fact that we can even do that at all, then mate them in a lab and insert them back into the right environment, all of it manipulated precisely? It's crazy. For the first time ever, I can honestly say I think it'd be cool if my kids became scientists.
  2. The ownership. One thing I've learned waiting in countless morning monitoring lines is this: IVF gives women choices. Nothing makes me happier for my gender than choice. I've been in line with women freezing just in case, women starting a family with their wives, women with a second chance on life and love... all kinds of women. IVF is a tool that gives all of us dramatically better chances than we've ever had before, and we make all the decisions - whether to go through this at all, how to go through it, how many embryos to implant, how many to freeze, whether to use or destroy them. We choose. That's a beautiful thing.
  3. The hope. Few jump into IVF first - our roads there are usually long and littered with frustration and grief and even tragedy. With other assisted reproduction techniques, insurance typically covers several procedures, so there's not as much risk or sacrifice involved. With IVF, we put everything on the line because it's the end of the road, because we believe, and that kind of hope is intoxicating. It makes the failures all the more heartbreaking - oh god the heartbreak - but I think it might make the successes more exhilarating, too.
One other note, in case someone you love is going through IVF. You might feel weird sometimes, and that's okay - we feel weird, too. Being there is all you need to do - you don't need to know the right questions to ask or anything at all about this crazy-science-magic. You just need to keep knowing us, and that's enough. With any luck (and some of that hot science, too), one day it won't be so weird anymore.

"Hey handsome... what do you say we slip out of here and inject a trigger shot in that fancy hotel bathroom we passed?"

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Oldie but goodie

Update: So seriously, I start watching this show right when the Kickstarter movie campaign begins? What are the chances?? Nice work, V.


Some things I wish I could go back in time and tell myself in 2004:
  • Nothing will turn out the way you think, but it will turn out even better.
  • This is the most self-indulgent time you’ll ever have – act like it!
  • Savor every minute with your girlfriends.
  • Watch Veronica Mars!

I know, one of these things is not like the other. And sure, I was eyeball-deep in graduate school and everything that came with it in the fall of 2004, meaning television didn’t happen very much for me then. Plus there was a certain World Series that October. But this show!

8.5 years after its debut, I’m loving:
  • The always-adorable Kristen Bell as a spunky Nancy Drew type
  • Quick wit and funny writing
  • The high/low plot point mix
  • Awesome father/daughter relationship
  • Amazing cameos from then-unfamous actors
  • A great heart
  • Hilariously bad lighting
So this is me these days – laying super-low and watching old television. I can't get enough of this fun fluff!

And yeah, this is also me deciding that blogging at all is better than blogging importantly. Enjoy!

Monday, February 4, 2013

Still here...

...keepin' on keepin' on.

I think my least favorite word is "busy." Such a lame excuse, no? And yet... that's my only one. Busy. Thank you for your sweet notes and concern, but I have mostly just the plague of the working world to blame, and the havoc it can sometimes wreak on our emotional breathing room. I'm always over on Twitter or Instagram, you know. No need to craft paragraphs there. No need to format. Other platforms work a little better for the dreaded "busy."

I also haven't opened Google Reader since around Thanksgiving, so I apologize for not sharing your own spaces more frequently. Like so many things, I'll try to be better at that.

A song for today. (For every day.) One of my all-time favorites, given such sweetness by the Lumineers.



To slowing down, then... sooner (ideally) or later (more realistically).

Monday, December 10, 2012

Salted Caramel Pie

The most indulgent thing I've done in ages is to eat this salted caramel pie. I actually meant to share it with you a year ago, when my sister and I first made it for Thanksgiving 2011. So I'm only a year late on this one. We never stopped talking about the pie, so I made it again for Thanksgiving 2012 and took it the family farm in Bertie County, NC. It was a hit.

And that trip, by the way? So peaceful.


But back to the pie. It's dangerous. My brother doesn't even like sweets and he had two pieces. It's easy to put together, just time-consuming. Have a slow day at home to yourself? Think about whipping this baby together. It's hands-down the best dessert I've ever made, and I'm prepared to make it for the rest of my life, if family requests are any indication.
 
 
Salted Caramel Pie
From Food & Wine
 
 
Ingredients
1 1/4 cups graham cracker crumbs (about 5 ounces)
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1/4 cup light brown sugar
Two 14-ounce cans sweetened condensed milk
Fleur de sel
2 cups heavy cream
2 tablespoons confectioners' sugar
 
Instructions
 
1. Preheat the oven to 350°. In a food processor, pulse the graham cracker crumbs with the melted butter and light brown sugar until the crumbs are moistened. Press the crumbs evenly into a 9-inch glass or metal pie plate. Bake for about 10 minutes, just until lightly browned. Let cool. Increase the oven temperature to 425°.
 
2. Scrape the condensed milk into a 9-by-13-inch glass baking dish and sprinkle with a scant 1/2 teaspoon of fleur de sel. Cover the dish with foil and place it in a roasting pan. Add enough hot water to the pan to reach one-third of the way up the side of the baking dish. Bake, lifting the foil to stir 2 or 3 times, until the condensed milk is golden and thickened, about 2 hours; add more water to the roasting pan as necessary. The consistency of the caramel should be like dulce de leche. Don't worry if it is lumpy; it will smooth out as it chills.
 
3. Scrape the caramel filling into the pie crust, smoothing the top. Spray a sheet of plastic wrap with vegetable oil spray and cover the pie. Refrigerate until the filling is chilled and set, at least 4 hours.
 
4. In a bowl, using an electric mixer, beat the cream with the confectioners' sugar until firm. Remove the plastic. Mound the whipped cream on top of the pie and sprinkle with fleur de sel. Cut into wedges and serve.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Unfiltered

Right now there is a puppy asleep on my feet, a cat being spooned by the sleeping husband beside me, another cat on the windowsill pondering life's mysteries, and a wheezing computer trying its hardest not to die on me as I type. There's a body that doesn't feel at all like mine, but hasn't for months anyway, a brain that's crammed much too full of work to tell a proper story or be socially engaging, and deep fatigue. Eleanor just emitted one of those great deep puppy sighs, and girl, I am feeling you on that. Let's all sigh together.

I used to love the phrase "grace under pressure." I aspired to rise above whatever life threw at me in a series of triumphant Clairee Belcher moments featuring resplendent hair and heartwarming sass. My reality, however, is that I don't know how to properly blow out my own hair and I'm too tired for quick wit. My reality is that I'm working way too much in a high-pressure situation, that T and I will have one weekend alone in our house in two months' time, and that fertility medications continue to be someone's idea of a pretty crappy joke.

But. There is a Christmas tree! Our first tree together, believe it or not. It's twinkling downstairs amidst a messy living space, making stacks of mail and piles of shoes look almost charming in all its twinkly glory. A Christmas tree is like Instagram for your house, I swear. The tree's a good three feet shorter than my heart wants it to be and it happens to have many large holes that weren't quite apparent in the Eastern Market tree lot, but it's ours. What I'd love now is the time and quiet space inside my head to devote a night - or even an hour - to just looking at it and feeling peaceful. Is it possible to schedule feelings of peace and goodwill, or is that a stretch? I'm really looking for life Instagram, aren't I?



The list of things I wish I was better at right now is lengthy. Cooking. Housekeeping. Blogging. Seeing friends. Going to the movies. Reading. Making time for a haircut/facial/massage. Having energy. Any energy at all. Lately I'm good at working, medicating, and seeing family. Those are important things, but I miss the small stuff. I miss moments that don't need a filter. I know they're out there, somewhere. I'd just really like for them to make their way toward my Christmas stocking.*

*Not yet hung and currently in a pile on the mantel. But you get my drift.

Friday, October 12, 2012

Eleanor gets kissed... and ID'd

Did you know it was Eleanor Roosevelt's birthday yesterday? It was. [Please pause for a moment of silence to the late, great ER.]

As for our little Eleanor, she finds it pretty exhausting trying to live up to her namesake's greatness. Sleeping like a champ, retrieving frisbees and balls to her heart's content, bonding with her dog-walker, gearing up for puppy classes - pretty tiring stuff. Not to mention making out with Switters the cat... now that is exhausting. And on video! Please enjoy my excited whispers to T regarding my sneaky videotaping and my quick interference when things started getting a little too physical, which they tend to do with these two. (I already know you're going to ignore the laundry pile, so I won't even bother asking about that.)





In other big canine news, guess what we received this week? Eleanor's DNA report! It made us laugh. Turns out our four month old 13-pounder has a pretty good chance of staying small-ish. And while my big dog-loving heart is slightly crushed by that news, my Eleanor-loving heart doesn't care one bit. Here's our possible runt-for-life who's nearly all legs trying to look taller upon hearing the news.


To recap, when we adopted Eleanor we were told she was a lab/poodle mix. We definitely doubted that rather designer mix of breeds given her rough-and-tumble upbringing, and threw out the poodle possibility pretty quickly. Her rescuer was fairly certain her mother was a lab because of a pregnant lab in the area and the fact that many of Eleanor's littermates looked just like labs. Our girl looks nothing like a lab, but it seemed possible. As for the rest of her, guesses included schnauzer, terrier, and German wire-haired pointer.

Drumroll please...



Eleanor Roosevelt the Scruffy Squirt is...

1/2 purebred Miniature Poodle
1/2 mixed breed consisting primarily of Terrier and Boxer


So that's our girl! I really should've taken bets on this mystery. She's not going to be the biggest gal on the block, but she just might be the cutest. And that's all right with me.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Still kickin'

It's been pointed out that I'm a bad blogger, which is entirely accurate. Instagram is so much easier and fun to update lately than the blog, I have to admit (I'm "magmaeA" over there, by the way). In other words, I'm tired and lazy right now. And yet, our days have been peppered with liveliness, too. A little taste:

This girl.

Getting a dog was such a good idea. She's worth it in every way, even if she's turning out to be a little shrimp who'll be probably 1/3 of what I consider to be the ideal dog weight. She's our little shrimp, though, and she's perfect. DNA test results coming soon!


This weekend getaway.

We spent a recent weekend on the Delaware beaches with one of our favorite couple friends, J and A. The four of us see a lot of each other around DC, so when they invited us to hang at their parents' place in Delaware (whose beaches I'd never visited), we pounced. I think we can all agree that finding couple friends can be pretty tough, and when it works, you hang on tight. A and J were kind enough to invite Eleanor to spend the weekend with us, too. Watching her big grin and tiny body on those long legs running free on the beach warmed my heart more than I should admit. Our Delaware weekend also featured one of my all-time favorite meals: a lobster BLT served with lobster creamed corn. Yeah, I said it. NOM. This getaway happened just when we needed it most, so I'd like to raise a virtual bloody mary to the couple we like even more after a weekend away with them - no small thing. Next up: foursome scotch tour of Scotland! (Which admittedly might take a while to come to fruition. We can dream, right?)


This weekend at home.

My parents spent last weekend in DC and true to form, we kicked some major butt under their direction. They planned two weekends with us this fall. The first was to be the "yard planning" weekend, and the second was the implementation weekend. Although we were technically supposed to be just planning last weekend, we did a heck of a lot of implementing, too. My mom's grand vision for the yard is slowly taking shape - it's about halfway done. We put down 23 bags of mulch, ripped out multiple ancient and sickly plants, found all manner of glass and trash buried in the yard, put in lots of new plants, and developed a concrete plan for the weekend of October 20, when we'll finalize it all. Yard stuff is so funny - I never prioritized having one or really caring much about the fact that for Capitol Hill, we actually have a big yard. Now that Eleanor's with us, though, I love that we can play fetch right at home and she can actually run up and down that side yard - all the better now that it's no longer covered with ivy. We love our walkable neighborhood and big local parks, but seeing this yard finally becoming an amenity rather than an afterthought is pretty spectacular. And it's all due to my parents, who rock. Big time.


Oh yeah, one other thing...

It's on.

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

A new chapter.

So. Life has been... full.

Puppy licks. Interspecies interaction. Neighborhood strolls. Showers hosted. Work events. So much support from my loved ones that I walk around in a constant state of humble gratitude. Because life has also been... weird.

Hospital visits. Anesthesia. So.many.injections. Ultrasounds. Side effects galore. Crazy-science-magic. The weight of my own body on itself only barely equalling the emotions of it all.

Right. I haven't mentioned it here yet.

We started IVF.

And because the best place to begin is probably the most surreal place, I'll offer the following:

This is what $3,743 worth of medication looks like.


That's a lot to put in your body over the course of a month. And when the docs later realize they forgot something and tell you it'll be another $380, you don't even bat an eye, because that's actually cheap compared to the stuff piled on that table.

IVF is a lot like IUI, actually... on steroids. And we should know, after three IUI failures. The promise of IVF is bigger, though. There's more certainty, more knowledge, and yep, more money. Lots more.

A dear friend of mine asked me what I felt like the worst part of IVF was. Did it represent a failure, a scary next step, the feeling of wasting time, the amount of medication, or was it the money that got to me most? And without skipping a beat, I said money. Our health insurance is fantastic for everything except this. We are 100% out of pocket for IVF, which is how we ended up spending $4k in meds. Add on the actual cost of treatment, monitoring, procedures, and high-tech lab work? We basically bought a car at our fertility clinic.

The bottom line, though, is what we'd rather have in our lives more than a child. The answer, of course, is nothing. Not a new deck, a landscaped yard, less student loan debt, or more savings. Not any of that. Yet still, it burns. I wonder why our cost to conceive is so high, when other people's is, say, the cost of a wine cooler. In my worst moments I whine about the inequities. Especially since even now, after doctors have watched T's sperm successfully fertilize my eggs in a lab, we don't have any more answers than we did before. "Unexplained Infertility," still.

So these days we're laying low. We're eating at home, playing with the puppy, watching baseball, and reading books. Outside of the side effects, it's not a bad place to be, really. Our days are quieter than before, but in a nesting way rather than an empty way. We're full of hope, because our chances are better than ever.

Is hope worth the cost of my beloved old Subaru Forester? I doubt it. But is a child? Absolutely.

To be continued.

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Labor Day lemonade

Lots of ladies in my life lately, which I adore. They're helping to take my mind off some less-than-awesome medical developments in my world. Great ladies will do that for a girl.

My pals from graduate school spent the weekend here, walking the monuments with me and remembering all about that thing we have here on the East Coast called humidity. It was a sweaty, wonderful weekend. We planned Marjorie's side business, planned Mikaela's forthcoming son's middle name, planned the trashy fictional series I will write to make my millions. We do know how to plan, the three of us. I love those two with all I have, and Albuquerque is a lucky city to have them.


The girls approved of Eleanor, of course. She continues to amuse us with her scruffy self and charming antics.


She's such a little squirt right now. I keep wondering aloud to T if she's ever actually going to grow (a weekend parasite certainly didn't help matters). She's sort of a miniature old lady right now with that beard of hers. I can't get enough of that funny face.


See that collar of hers? Girl is decked out for election season. She's feeling it, too - I'm pretty sure after Tuesday night she was angling for a name change to Michelle. I get it - my love for the First Lady knows no bounds. 


How are the cats hanging in there, you might be wondering? Differently. Switters is more eager to be pals, and Fanny is occasionally bitchy for no reason whatsoever. In other words, they're being themselves. But ten days in, we're feeling pretty good about interspecies cooperation over here.


Puppy kisses, kitten purrs, good politics on tv, good friends visiting me from too far away... this is me making the best of this month. Bring it, September.
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