but generally speaking, that's my default personality. it's my social tool, conversation starter, and defense mechanism.
however, this will not be funny.
my niece is sort of in renal failure. creatinine levels over 1.0 mark kidney failure in a kid her size and her number is 1.3. however, it may be something as simple as draining her kidneys that solves the problem. she was born with a double blockage, so this wasn't entirely a shock, but it certainly feels like it.
pray for her, for her parents. surgery is also a likely solution as well. both treatments are risky.
hang on a second while i grab my soapbox and get it balanced on my pedestal.
now that i'm up here, let's talk.
creatinine is the waste product from creatine. creatine is a natural by-product of muscle contractions.
do you recognize the word "creatine"?
i did.
CREATINE!!! IT CAN MAKE YOUR MUSCLES GINORMOUS!!!!! YOU'LL BE BUFF!!!!! GIRLS WILL THINK YOU'RE HOT!!!!! YOU WILL BE SUCCESSFUL!!!!!! ALL YOU NEED ARE MUSCLES AND A RIDICULOUSLY FAKE TAN AND YOUR SELF ESTEEM WILL BE HIGHER THAN MT. KILIMANJARO!!!
it was a controversial additive to body building formulas. "is this safe, is this a drug" blah blah. it's not a drug.
however, i can't back the notion that it's safe either, though body building companies swear by it.
what do i know though, i'm just some lowly female consumer who doesn't body build and has no idea what my personal creatinine levels look like. i have no medical degree or training. my credentials are... oh my gosh, just about the same as spokespersons for companies who put creatine in their products... WHOA.
i could go off about this in 2000 word rant easily, but i'll paraphrase: creatine makes creatinine. too much creatinine? renal failure. creatine comes from muscle contractions. body builders are already producing more creatine naturally, and then adding even more. but it's safe.
how many other drugs, chemicals, medicines, did we think were safe? we handed cigarettes to our troops in MREs less than a half a century ago. lung cancer, emphysema.
we created tanning beds. melanoma.
we put asbestos in our homes. mesothelioma.
want a really controversial one? birth control. stroke, infertility.
this post really has nothing to do with little aliza jane.
it has to do with me. with my family, my son, my choices, my knowledge. a neighbor informed me that oxybenzone, an active ingredient in sunscreen, is suspected to be an endocrine disruptor. translation? it screws up your sex hormones, i.e. testosterone and estrogen.
who do you put sunscreen on most?
your kids.
i'm not going to tell anyone else how to live their life, what choices to make. but i will say for myself, i'll be damned if i go to a store and buy the cheapest, easiest version of something without considering possible long term effects.
and yes, i'm aware that there are always going to be foods, toys, clothes, products, that pose a threat. i cannot avoid everything. but when there is a label right in front of my face listing the ingredients, and i am fully literate, there is no excuse. i owe it to myself, to my husband, to my son, to read that label.
ok, let me jump down.
send out some love to my sister and her husband. i cannot even imagine how scary this is for them, and i hope i never have to imagine.
also, we're leaving for home (WITH DADDY!!!!) in 3 days, so blogging will drop off a bit while i unpack and set up our monstrous new house (i wonder if i'll look back in 10 years and laugh at how i thought 1500 sq. ft. was monstrous). but i promise when i post again, it'll be funny!!!
30 August, 2010
25 August, 2010
Funny or Frightening?
i feel like that should be the title of the game show that is my life.
my son pinched his fingers in a door for the first time today. naturally, hysteria followed. from me.
he sat on my lap, screaming baby profanities at his red fingers, and i rocked him, debating whether or not to give in to the urge to comfort him with baby cheesy poofs. food is love! i decided rocking would suffice. there's plenty of time to teach him horrible emotional/eating habits later in his life.
when you picture an 8 month old, even a toddler, who has just pinched his fingers in a door, the image generally looks something like this: red face, screaming yet barely breathing, eyes shut (or wide open), arms in a shaking state of panic, tears streaming. my son had all of those, save the last.
i can count on one hand the number of times i have seen tears come out of his eyes. i can only speculate that there was one instance where more than one tear fell, but i can't guarantee the wet on his blanket was tears and not snot or drool. he definitely produces an adequate amount of drool. if there were drool banks, he could single handedly supply them.
this is not to say that he doesn't get upset. i am not implying that my child never "cries" or screams. he does, though admittedly not often. but i didn't see that first real tear until he was nearly 5 months old.
i keep forgetting to ask his pediatrician when i see him. somehow between vaccinations, eating habits, teething, developmental checks, ear infections, fungal infections, alien infections, and any other infections, terrestrial or extra, "he doesn't make tears" gets thrown to the back burner.
i do intend to ask at his 9 month appointment. i have it written down on a piece of paper that i will probably lose.
until then, i've come up with a theory.
jp is actually chuck norris's son.
simply put, sometime in march-april of 2009, i must have read or heard a chuck norris fact which resulted in pregnancy.
and now my son's tears have the ability to cure cancer, so he must not waste them.
logical, yes? i think so.
it's either that or he has some tear production issue. that's not nearly as funny or awesome, so i'm going to go with the chuck norris theory.
and if you argue with me, jp will roundhouse kick you in the face. it's up to you to determine if it's worth the risk.
my son pinched his fingers in a door for the first time today. naturally, hysteria followed. from me.
he sat on my lap, screaming baby profanities at his red fingers, and i rocked him, debating whether or not to give in to the urge to comfort him with baby cheesy poofs. food is love! i decided rocking would suffice. there's plenty of time to teach him horrible emotional/eating habits later in his life.
when you picture an 8 month old, even a toddler, who has just pinched his fingers in a door, the image generally looks something like this: red face, screaming yet barely breathing, eyes shut (or wide open), arms in a shaking state of panic, tears streaming. my son had all of those, save the last.
i can count on one hand the number of times i have seen tears come out of his eyes. i can only speculate that there was one instance where more than one tear fell, but i can't guarantee the wet on his blanket was tears and not snot or drool. he definitely produces an adequate amount of drool. if there were drool banks, he could single handedly supply them.
this is not to say that he doesn't get upset. i am not implying that my child never "cries" or screams. he does, though admittedly not often. but i didn't see that first real tear until he was nearly 5 months old.
i keep forgetting to ask his pediatrician when i see him. somehow between vaccinations, eating habits, teething, developmental checks, ear infections, fungal infections, alien infections, and any other infections, terrestrial or extra, "he doesn't make tears" gets thrown to the back burner.
i do intend to ask at his 9 month appointment. i have it written down on a piece of paper that i will probably lose.
until then, i've come up with a theory.
jp is actually chuck norris's son.
simply put, sometime in march-april of 2009, i must have read or heard a chuck norris fact which resulted in pregnancy.
and now my son's tears have the ability to cure cancer, so he must not waste them.
logical, yes? i think so.
it's either that or he has some tear production issue. that's not nearly as funny or awesome, so i'm going to go with the chuck norris theory.
and if you argue with me, jp will roundhouse kick you in the face. it's up to you to determine if it's worth the risk.
22 August, 2010
i'm getting old.
i recently had a birthday.
i will not tell you when, and i will delete any comments that give the day. i give out the date of my birth about as often as i give out my middle name. so, never.
in fact, i sent a text message to my best friend the night before the blessed event to see if she wanted to celebrate and she responded, "i think that's only the second time you've told me when your birthday is!"
this isn't some weird creeper ploy for attention or me just trying to create drama by keeping such an "important" thing about myself a mystery.
there are several reasons that i keep my entrance into the world under lock and key. 1) i don't really remember much about it, and i think it's unfair to milk gifts out of people for something i can't even verify details of.
just kidding.
but gifts come into play. i suck SUCK SUCK at gift giving. i don't remember to get them (on time or otherwise), i don't remember to ship them (everyone lives far away from me), and i practically go into spasms trying to pick something out for people because i'm always afraid they'll hate it.
because i do not send gifts, i would prefer that people not get me gifts. it raises my guilt quotient high enough to cause aneurysms. i am also bad at sending out thank yous, therefore i am the worst friend/family member on the face of the planet. i will not buy you gifts, i will not send you thank yous.
are you starting to understand a little more why you should NEVER write my birthday down? i don't deserve presents. not until i get my act together.
i am also severely hearing impaired. no lie. i can only hear out of one ear.
note: if i tell you this in person and you respond "what?" and think that you're so creative and hilarious for making a joke about being deaf when i tell you i'm deaf, i'm not laughing. at all. in fact, chances are my face will fall into a flatline and i will walk away from you. at the very least i will go off on a bitch rant about you to my husband later. i have heard this joke easily a thousand times. you are not creative. you are not funny. i am still deaf.
some people think "well, you still have one ear that works100%, so that's probably not that bad, right?".
right. except there's this problem. i can only hear conversations on one side of my body, so everyone has to be on that side. when i sit shotgun, i can't hear anyone. if i sit at the wrong end of a table at a restaurant, guess who won't be participating in convos? you know where sound comes from because it hits one ear slightly faster than the other. i don't have two ears to hear out of, therefore i don't know where sounds come from. i can't find my phone, calling it does me no good. my son falls down, i'm not sure where he is just by his crying. call my name in a crowd. i will spin in circles until you become visible. i have poor balance because i have no equilibrium. i walk toward the right when i try to walk straight no matter how badly i try to stop it. embarrassing. frustrating.
i cannot switch ears during a phone call. this brings me right back around to my birthday.
people call you lots and lots on your birthday. when you only have one ear, it gets hot fast. you also cannot hear your son and the over-stimulation to that one ear will literally exhaust you. i would much rather have a party where i can talk to people one-on-one (but nobody brings presents, just food). after too many phone calls, i get irritable and angry and i turn into the nofunonherbirthdaywhatajerkgirl. i don't want to be that girl.
text messaging has become the target of disapproval lately because it's "impersonal" and dangerous. the dangerous i can get on board with-- dumb people can make almost anything dangerous, and we got alotta dumb people in the world.
but for someone who can't handle talking on the phone (those of you who do call me will note that i rarely make the first call, and when i call back, i'm generally quick to get off the phone), text messaging is saving my life and giving me a chance to stay involved with friends and families without getting overwhelmed.
so, for those of you who figured out my birthday through facebook or from family, add my number to your phone. text me. i will love you forever, and i might just start giving out the date again.
until then, everyone will have to accept that i'm an old, deaf, senile woman, and it's only going to get worse with every one of these crazy things called "birthdays" that i celebrate every year.
i feel the need to mention, however, that i got the best birthday gift ever this year--i got to hold my brand new baby niece, a premie born measuring at 31 weeks.
i will not tell you when, and i will delete any comments that give the day. i give out the date of my birth about as often as i give out my middle name. so, never.
in fact, i sent a text message to my best friend the night before the blessed event to see if she wanted to celebrate and she responded, "i think that's only the second time you've told me when your birthday is!"
this isn't some weird creeper ploy for attention or me just trying to create drama by keeping such an "important" thing about myself a mystery.
there are several reasons that i keep my entrance into the world under lock and key. 1) i don't really remember much about it, and i think it's unfair to milk gifts out of people for something i can't even verify details of.
just kidding.
but gifts come into play. i suck SUCK SUCK at gift giving. i don't remember to get them (on time or otherwise), i don't remember to ship them (everyone lives far away from me), and i practically go into spasms trying to pick something out for people because i'm always afraid they'll hate it.
because i do not send gifts, i would prefer that people not get me gifts. it raises my guilt quotient high enough to cause aneurysms. i am also bad at sending out thank yous, therefore i am the worst friend/family member on the face of the planet. i will not buy you gifts, i will not send you thank yous.
are you starting to understand a little more why you should NEVER write my birthday down? i don't deserve presents. not until i get my act together.
i am also severely hearing impaired. no lie. i can only hear out of one ear.
note: if i tell you this in person and you respond "what?" and think that you're so creative and hilarious for making a joke about being deaf when i tell you i'm deaf, i'm not laughing. at all. in fact, chances are my face will fall into a flatline and i will walk away from you. at the very least i will go off on a bitch rant about you to my husband later. i have heard this joke easily a thousand times. you are not creative. you are not funny. i am still deaf.
some people think "well, you still have one ear that works100%, so that's probably not that bad, right?".
right. except there's this problem. i can only hear conversations on one side of my body, so everyone has to be on that side. when i sit shotgun, i can't hear anyone. if i sit at the wrong end of a table at a restaurant, guess who won't be participating in convos? you know where sound comes from because it hits one ear slightly faster than the other. i don't have two ears to hear out of, therefore i don't know where sounds come from. i can't find my phone, calling it does me no good. my son falls down, i'm not sure where he is just by his crying. call my name in a crowd. i will spin in circles until you become visible. i have poor balance because i have no equilibrium. i walk toward the right when i try to walk straight no matter how badly i try to stop it. embarrassing. frustrating.
i cannot switch ears during a phone call. this brings me right back around to my birthday.
people call you lots and lots on your birthday. when you only have one ear, it gets hot fast. you also cannot hear your son and the over-stimulation to that one ear will literally exhaust you. i would much rather have a party where i can talk to people one-on-one (but nobody brings presents, just food). after too many phone calls, i get irritable and angry and i turn into the nofunonherbirthdaywhatajerkgirl. i don't want to be that girl.
text messaging has become the target of disapproval lately because it's "impersonal" and dangerous. the dangerous i can get on board with-- dumb people can make almost anything dangerous, and we got alotta dumb people in the world.
but for someone who can't handle talking on the phone (those of you who do call me will note that i rarely make the first call, and when i call back, i'm generally quick to get off the phone), text messaging is saving my life and giving me a chance to stay involved with friends and families without getting overwhelmed.
so, for those of you who figured out my birthday through facebook or from family, add my number to your phone. text me. i will love you forever, and i might just start giving out the date again.
until then, everyone will have to accept that i'm an old, deaf, senile woman, and it's only going to get worse with every one of these crazy things called "birthdays" that i celebrate every year.
i feel the need to mention, however, that i got the best birthday gift ever this year--i got to hold my brand new baby niece, a premie born measuring at 31 weeks.
16 August, 2010
Texas
blanket apology to my texan friends. you are certainly all exceptions and i'm sure there are other exceptions in the state that i have not met.
texas was a mistake. we should have just handed it over to santa anna. i'm not even sure if that's how you spell his name. i don't care any more than i care about the history of the alamo. "people died for their freedom at the alamo! how can you be so callous?!" um, pretty sure people died for my freedom in the revolutionary war, but i don't sit around memorizing the spelling of the names of the men in parliament at the time. i know how to spell sam houston, so untwist those panties!
we lived in texas as a family for 5 years and then i stayed for college for another 4.
and then i left. promptly.
there is a long list of things that i could go off about, but i will choose one. ok, two.
every time i walk off of a plane into houston, i think my lungs shrivel up and cringe. there is a reason that the best cancer center in america is in houston. they're trying to make up for the bad karma of having so much smog that they CREATE cancer.
side note, MD Anderson is an amazing, wonderful hospital and they have worked miracles there. i am endlessly grateful for the medical center and the beautiful years they've given to families and for the care my sister and my soon to be arriving niecephew have received at st lukes.
my second rant will bring no disclaimers, apologies, or attempts to smooth out the roughness of my accusations.
without fail, every time i've flown into houston (and that's well over a dozen times), i walk off the plane and within 100 feet of the gate, i am assaulted by oversized bejeweled crosses hanging gawdily from the necks of women wearing shirts that proudly own their status as "Jesus' favorite cowgirl", too tight jeans and tacky cowboy boots. they also have more make up than ru paul.
i should mention that for most of these women, the closest they've been to a farm is the vat of corn in their local walmart every summer.
i'm down with Jesus, don't make that mistake. i just wonder if maybe the proper tribute to Him doesn't involve taking the bloody, splintering, cruel, hard slabs of wood that He was NAILED to, and covering them in rhinestones, glitter, and sterling silver designs.
i'm so grateful to be here with my sister, to be able to share some time and resources with them. but once i get home, i'm planning on constructing some sort of eyewear that can block out anything made by a bedazzler. look for it on ebay.
i'll be sure to cover the sweet shades in diamonds and sapphires.
texas was a mistake. we should have just handed it over to santa anna. i'm not even sure if that's how you spell his name. i don't care any more than i care about the history of the alamo. "people died for their freedom at the alamo! how can you be so callous?!" um, pretty sure people died for my freedom in the revolutionary war, but i don't sit around memorizing the spelling of the names of the men in parliament at the time. i know how to spell sam houston, so untwist those panties!
we lived in texas as a family for 5 years and then i stayed for college for another 4.
and then i left. promptly.
there is a long list of things that i could go off about, but i will choose one. ok, two.
every time i walk off of a plane into houston, i think my lungs shrivel up and cringe. there is a reason that the best cancer center in america is in houston. they're trying to make up for the bad karma of having so much smog that they CREATE cancer.
side note, MD Anderson is an amazing, wonderful hospital and they have worked miracles there. i am endlessly grateful for the medical center and the beautiful years they've given to families and for the care my sister and my soon to be arriving niecephew have received at st lukes.
my second rant will bring no disclaimers, apologies, or attempts to smooth out the roughness of my accusations.
without fail, every time i've flown into houston (and that's well over a dozen times), i walk off the plane and within 100 feet of the gate, i am assaulted by oversized bejeweled crosses hanging gawdily from the necks of women wearing shirts that proudly own their status as "Jesus' favorite cowgirl", too tight jeans and tacky cowboy boots. they also have more make up than ru paul.
i should mention that for most of these women, the closest they've been to a farm is the vat of corn in their local walmart every summer.
i'm down with Jesus, don't make that mistake. i just wonder if maybe the proper tribute to Him doesn't involve taking the bloody, splintering, cruel, hard slabs of wood that He was NAILED to, and covering them in rhinestones, glitter, and sterling silver designs.
i'm so grateful to be here with my sister, to be able to share some time and resources with them. but once i get home, i'm planning on constructing some sort of eyewear that can block out anything made by a bedazzler. look for it on ebay.
i'll be sure to cover the sweet shades in diamonds and sapphires.
14 August, 2010
Falsies
that's right, falsies. i'll come right out and say it. i'm not ashamed. i love the way they look and feel and i love the speed at which they can turn heads and bring focus to one very specific part of my body.
my eyes.
i am not what you might call "glamorous". i have the potential to be--i'm 6' tall with a textured buzz cut and basically no chest. i am a drag queen waiting to happen. except i'm a woman.
my aunt got married last night (BEAUTIFUL ceremony--possibly the most well thought out, classic, fun wedding i've been to), and with all of the yuck going on with my sister (see here), i was selfishly in need of a pick me up.
and then it dawned on me. a few months ago i bought fake eyelashes in an effort to surprise my husband. if you can't follow where that's going, you might want to stop reading my blog. if you can follow, don't bust out your "YOU GO GIRL" just yet. because i never wore them. i was too busy being un-glamorous to make it happen. that's the kind of wife i am.
but i had a rockin glittery dress to wear (which, consequently turned my son into a gaga-esque drag queen because he was OBSESSED with the glitter, would grab it, try to eat it, and end up covered it in as the night progressed) and some pretty fabulous jewelry (which i had to remove as the night progressed because of baby gaga's equal obsession with it and my desire to keep the hole in my ear just that, and not a gash). so the eyelashes were whipped out. or peeled, whatever.
i got them from target for $4.
they looked amazing.
i wore the most bland ones i had (i bought 3 pairs... don't judge). now, bland fake eyelashes don't really exist, but these didn't have glitter or feathers or varying height. they were straight across, just a bit longer than my real lashes.
but they made a world of difference!! and they were SUPER easy to apply!!! holy moly! my eyes looked sooooo much more dramatic! i found myself staring in mirrors all night and making plans to get up every morning so i could carefully decorate my peepers in preparation for the day's activities (which would include feeding my 8 month old son, playing with him, changing his poopy diapers, making more food, getting thrown up on, sweating while cleaning, and then passing out while drooling).
when it came time for the reception, i passed my sleepy son to my disinterested father and they went home so mama could PARTY!!! WOOOO!!!!
so i hit the dance floor! and immediately a slow song comes on. well EFF, my husband is 1000 miles away. and everyone here saw me with a kid, plus i'm wearing a GIANT wedding ring set, sooooo nobody is going to ask me to dance. i would have been better off as a drag queen.
the obvious decision if you can't dance is to hit the open bar (hello long line of pink margaritas!).
bartender: "what can i get you?"
me: "something delicious that doesn't contain vodka"
INTERJECTION!!!!! if you are at a wedding and feeling fabulous in a short littler glittery number, donning falsies and overly excited about your first night out without a baby in 8 months, and you ask for something delicious, bartenders assume you are drunk off your ass.
bartender hands me drink
me: "what's in this??"
bartender: "rum"
me: "ooou, i like rum! thanks!"
so i take a sip.
it is straight whiskey. STRA-RAAAAAAIGHT. JACK. DANIELS. whaaaaaaa!?!?!?!!?!? I CAN'T DRINK THIS!!! I'M NOT DRUNK ENOUGH!!!! the point of going to the bar was to work my way UP to straight jack daniels!!!! frick!
by now we're back to the real songs, and wouldn't ya know it, "bad romance" blasts through the speakers.
so i grab my cousin's lady friend and as we're going to the floor, i kid you not, 3 complete strangers tell me "oh, you could totally pull off gaga!!"
now, i'm a little thrown by this comment. i realize it's meant to be a compliment, or at least i assume so, because they were smiling.
but it could very well mean "lady, you'd make one fine drag queen! hell, for all we know, you ARE one fine drag queen!"
i decided it didn't matter. whether people thought i was a lunatic or friggin hot, their opinions would never be able to derail the awesomeness of our interpretive dance to journey's "don't stop believing", or the sheer mind-blowing glory of my aunt and i as we rocked out to "footloose".
buy fake eyelashes. they will change your life. at least for a night. when combined with liquor. and glitter.
also, if you think of it, please pray for my sister, brother in law, and their tiny baby. again, you can check out the story here
04 August, 2010
Beet it!
ok, let's talk about farmer's markets. i love 'em. i love farmers. they're so quaint! and rude!!!
go into a farmer's market wearing skinny jeans, giant bug-eye sunglasses, spikey peep-toes and a deliberately tattered t-shirt. they will make fun of you. roll their eyes. and when you ask "what's this?" while holding up a bell pepper, they will walk out of the barn and laugh at you. hysterically. i've seen it happen. don't ever mistake a farmer for a fool.
i'm into this whole green/organic fad society's got going on. we use cloth diapers, i make my own baby food, i garden, we drive one car, and we even bought energy efficient light bulbs.
move over al gore, we got this.
i made an attempt this summer to plant foods that i'm unfamiliar with. of course i included my cliche buddies--tomatoes, peas, cucumbers, and a host of herbs (all of which are doing beautifully). peppers and lettuce were an introduction for my green thumb. okra and beets would meet my taste buds for the first time.
the peas are doing alright. the okra, lettuce, cucumber, cayenne, and petite bell pepper plants are surprisingly prolific.
the beets failed. one beet made it, and it's really not that impressive and probably will never be edible. i was not entirely upset about this.
when i think of beets, i imagine eating something that looks, tastes, and stains like a heart. even doug funny's excitement over beets couldn't convince me.
i went to a local farmer's market yesterday to get some fresh vegetables for a summer salad. wide variety of peppers for $.35 each? yes please. banana, italian, green bell, serrano... mmmmm... sweet corn, red potatoes, plums, peaches, sweet potatoes, butternut squash (a bit early!!!!), red onion, yellow squash, eggplant, green beans....
I'M IN HEAVEN!!
and then i saw it. a container of beets. i almost walked by. but my mom loves beets and she was so excited about having a garden overflowing with them, and my poor research skills had left her out to dry. (fyi, beets DO NOT transplant. they just die.) so i grabbed a container of 4 and walked out with plans to make her a beet and onion salad, which i would have no part in eating.
back home. roasted/grilled/sauteed everything with fresh herbs. let me just tell you now, the smell created by fresh vegetables and herbs is unlike anything that produce from your super wal-mart could ever rival. magnificent.
as i peeled the skin from my roasted beets, i couldn't help my fascination at how little they smelled like what i assume a heart does. they weren't bleeding either!! no aorta to be found.
and the color these little bulbs left on my hand was literally brilliant in every sense of the word. i couldn't resist. i skeptically popped a wedge in, fully expecting a giant squirt of beet-heart-blood-juice to infiltrate my mouth causing immediate vomiting all over my mom's beet salad.
beets are delicious. they have this taste that vaguely resembles roasted corn, but so much better. and the texture is unbelievable. it's a marvelous food.
so i scarfed down an entire bowl of beety, oniony deliciousness. my mom and i are fighting over the leftovers.
one major downside to beets? aside from the strange looks you get from people when you rant and rave about how amazing they are (you would think you were telling people you were eating a beating heart!)...
you pee pink.
yep. you read it right.
so if you aren't prepared, you'll go to the bathroom, stand up, clean up, turn around, look down and GASP because you have obviously filled the bowl with blood from a UTI that you didn't even realize you had.
now, on the PLUS side of that scenario-- UTIs that cause blood in the urine are usually pretty bad. as in your-kidneys-are-already-infected-bad. but since you won't be feeling any burning, pain, or frequent urges to hit the john, you will suddenly believe that you must have developed super-hero caliber pain tolerance overnight.
downside to that? you might try to jump off your building cheerleader-claire style. you will break.
but when your loved ones are nursing you back to health while you sit calmly in traction (sedatives, anyone?), hopefully someone will remember that beets are a powerhouse food, bursting with folate (great for pregnancy), potassium, fiber (both great for digestion), vitamin c, and iron (also both great during pregnancy!). they also boast the highest natural concentrations of sugar of all the veggies, with shockingly low calorie content-- about 74 calories per cup.
i also hope, for your sake, that someone realizes that your pink pee came from beets. wouldn't want to get you on unnecessary antibiotics. because obviously at that point antibiotics would be one of your biggest concerns.
support your local farmers and your body!! EAT MORE VEGETATION!!!
go into a farmer's market wearing skinny jeans, giant bug-eye sunglasses, spikey peep-toes and a deliberately tattered t-shirt. they will make fun of you. roll their eyes. and when you ask "what's this?" while holding up a bell pepper, they will walk out of the barn and laugh at you. hysterically. i've seen it happen. don't ever mistake a farmer for a fool.
i'm into this whole green/organic fad society's got going on. we use cloth diapers, i make my own baby food, i garden, we drive one car, and we even bought energy efficient light bulbs.
move over al gore, we got this.
i made an attempt this summer to plant foods that i'm unfamiliar with. of course i included my cliche buddies--tomatoes, peas, cucumbers, and a host of herbs (all of which are doing beautifully). peppers and lettuce were an introduction for my green thumb. okra and beets would meet my taste buds for the first time.
the peas are doing alright. the okra, lettuce, cucumber, cayenne, and petite bell pepper plants are surprisingly prolific.
the beets failed. one beet made it, and it's really not that impressive and probably will never be edible. i was not entirely upset about this.
when i think of beets, i imagine eating something that looks, tastes, and stains like a heart. even doug funny's excitement over beets couldn't convince me.
i went to a local farmer's market yesterday to get some fresh vegetables for a summer salad. wide variety of peppers for $.35 each? yes please. banana, italian, green bell, serrano... mmmmm... sweet corn, red potatoes, plums, peaches, sweet potatoes, butternut squash (a bit early!!!!), red onion, yellow squash, eggplant, green beans....
I'M IN HEAVEN!!
and then i saw it. a container of beets. i almost walked by. but my mom loves beets and she was so excited about having a garden overflowing with them, and my poor research skills had left her out to dry. (fyi, beets DO NOT transplant. they just die.) so i grabbed a container of 4 and walked out with plans to make her a beet and onion salad, which i would have no part in eating.
back home. roasted/grilled/sauteed everything with fresh herbs. let me just tell you now, the smell created by fresh vegetables and herbs is unlike anything that produce from your super wal-mart could ever rival. magnificent.
as i peeled the skin from my roasted beets, i couldn't help my fascination at how little they smelled like what i assume a heart does. they weren't bleeding either!! no aorta to be found.
and the color these little bulbs left on my hand was literally brilliant in every sense of the word. i couldn't resist. i skeptically popped a wedge in, fully expecting a giant squirt of beet-heart-blood-juice to infiltrate my mouth causing immediate vomiting all over my mom's beet salad.
beets are delicious. they have this taste that vaguely resembles roasted corn, but so much better. and the texture is unbelievable. it's a marvelous food.
so i scarfed down an entire bowl of beety, oniony deliciousness. my mom and i are fighting over the leftovers.
one major downside to beets? aside from the strange looks you get from people when you rant and rave about how amazing they are (you would think you were telling people you were eating a beating heart!)...
you pee pink.
yep. you read it right.
so if you aren't prepared, you'll go to the bathroom, stand up, clean up, turn around, look down and GASP because you have obviously filled the bowl with blood from a UTI that you didn't even realize you had.
now, on the PLUS side of that scenario-- UTIs that cause blood in the urine are usually pretty bad. as in your-kidneys-are-already-infected-bad. but since you won't be feeling any burning, pain, or frequent urges to hit the john, you will suddenly believe that you must have developed super-hero caliber pain tolerance overnight.
downside to that? you might try to jump off your building cheerleader-claire style. you will break.
but when your loved ones are nursing you back to health while you sit calmly in traction (sedatives, anyone?), hopefully someone will remember that beets are a powerhouse food, bursting with folate (great for pregnancy), potassium, fiber (both great for digestion), vitamin c, and iron (also both great during pregnancy!). they also boast the highest natural concentrations of sugar of all the veggies, with shockingly low calorie content-- about 74 calories per cup.
i also hope, for your sake, that someone realizes that your pink pee came from beets. wouldn't want to get you on unnecessary antibiotics. because obviously at that point antibiotics would be one of your biggest concerns.
support your local farmers and your body!! EAT MORE VEGETATION!!!
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