Comfort Food

I have had the privilege of living in three distinctly different regions of the country. I was born and raised in the Northeast, went to college in the South, and have lived in the Midwest now for over a decade, the region where both of my children were born. I miss things from each region I no longer call home, but it all centers around one thing…FOOD! If you’ve never lived in varying regions you may have no idea how regional food is.

For starters depending upon your personal experience you may have no idea what a knish is. I miss potato knishes, even kasha knishes, but mostly potato. Heck I can’t even find kasha in a grocery store here. So, after many weeks of cravings I decided to make potato knishes in my very own kitchen. I have to admit I impressed myself immensely. It didn’t rival those of NYC street vendors, but it tasted enough like Waldbaums where I happily ate all four…but not in one sitting.

But then there are corn muffins. I am surrounded by corn fields (not literally, oh that would be frightening to me to look around and not be able to see over my head). Every August I buy some of the sweetest corn I’ve ever tasted, grown just down the road and bought off of a pick up truck in a bowling alley parking lot. Yes, you read that right. For the past two summers I have even shucked, scraped, blanched, and frozen thousands of kernels to eat during the long winters. Very Midwestern of me, I’ve been told (also buying a ¼ of a cow put me in this category, but that’s for another time). But to the corn; I’ve yet to freeze enough to last that long though, thankfully Bird’s Eye and Green Giant are sold in the freezer section. But corn muffins? Nowhere to be found?! So, after succeeding at potato knishes I bought some corn meal and made corn muffins. Besides I’m good at baking….cookies. I ate half a muffin and threw the other eleven straight in the garbage as I mourned Stew Leonard’s.

Then there are other foods I wouldn’t even attempt to cook in my kitchen, knowing there’s no chance I could fulfill my taste buds’ and stomach’s desires. PIZZA. Sure there’s a pizza place on every corner, but nothing that even resembles New York pizza, NYC pizza that is….years ago I learned New York is a vast enough state to have more than one “type” of pizza. DONUTS. If the country runs on Dunkin’ then where’s my Dunkin Donuts!?!? DELCIOUS ITALIAN FOOD. Warning: If Olive Garden falls into this category for you I’m sorry. Now I enjoy Olive Garden, but it doesn’t fulfill my want for delicious chicken parmigan, meatballs, or baked ziti. Although I do make all three in my kitchen it’s not the same. BAGELS. Just thinking about it makes me sad. Not a single bagel place here or where I lived in the South could stay in business long enough. <sigh>

Sorry Southern states the only food I really miss is Mexican…that’s right I have found no rival to Pepito’s. Then again that may simply because of half-priced margaritas on Tuesdays and the many memories made there with great college friends.

So, not only can I not afford the real estate back east, but I can’t afford to gain five pounds a week eating to my heart’s content. That’s right, two years ago I fulfilled all my cravings during a weeklong visit and gained 5 pounds.

Thankfully Haagan Daz and Ben and Jerry’s can be found in grocery stores nationally. Carvel though, nowhere in sight and every birthday I mourn the loss of yet another birthday celebrated sans a Carvel Cake.

I think I’ll go eat a brat now. Oh wait, I don’t like brats. I miss Hebrew National bullet bologna eaten on an Arnold roll. Speaking of rolls, how hard is it to make a decent hard roll, put some butter on it……… 

Like Age, Size is Just a Number…

...but how do we learn to believe it? Today as I put on a brand new pair of jeans I smiled, simply because they didn’t have a hole in the knee. Then I looked in the mirror, turned around, and thought about how much I dislike shopping for clothes. Now don’t get me wrong, I love the feeling of finding and buying the “perfect” shirt/pants/outfit. But the rarity of that feeling is often frustrating and sometimes exhausting. Okay, so back to me looking in the mirror (for the record: I’m not narcissistic). I smiled at the fit of the jeans until I turned around when reality struck me right in the tush. I could not wear these jeans or any jeans without a belt. WHY did I not buy a new belt!? (Oh, they’re not cheap or any easier to buy) Either my butt was too big (which I honestly don’t think it is) or I didn’t have enough lower back fat (which since I’m being honest I’ll say that was perfectly fine with me!!)

What I have accepted, and believe me when I say it was a process and took time, when I say time I mean years: my size varies. Yes, I can still look in the Juniors department, but I must look at least one size bigger and upon entering the dressing room I must expect the pants not to rise above my mother-of-two hips. When shopping in a store where there is only a “women’s” side I have accepted that two pairs of jeans sitting right next to/on top of each other will not fit the same, I have to try each piece of clothing on before buying.

I love being a woman, being a man comes with another list of stressors, many that I’m sure I’m not even aware of. But when it comes to buying clothes, I am envious of men (and women although I don’t know of any) who are able to walk in a store, pick clothes off a hanger and never even look for a dressing room before heading for the cashier.

So when are our daughters old enough to begin teaching them that size is but a number and it’s the comfort of the clothes we wear that is more important? RIGHT NOW! I mean it, right now….if you are reading this blog and have a daughter USE IT to motivate you to have the conversation. Immediately after putting on my jeans, and before the belt, I called my daughter into my room and told her the surprising news that the skirt she was wearing (for the second day in a row) was a size 3! Not a 4 or 5. (Did I mention she’s four years old? :o) Then I proceeded to tell her that it wasn’t the size that mattered, that as girls we always have to try on our clothes before buying them and make sure they are comfortable. Yes, she looked at me confused, but it was less judgmental than I imagine her looking at me in ten years.

My hope is that she doesn’t have to remember this conversation in detail, not because it wasn’t important, but because we’ll have it many more times throughout the years to come.

As for size 0…that’s an opinion for another time. Or maybe not. I’ll keep it short and to the point. I don’t think there should be a size 0, there never was when I was younger, but that’s not my point here. Simply put: I don’t think any girl or woman should strive to be nothing.

I also apologized to her today for inevitably going through menopause when she’s a teenager.

“Too Cold for Snow”

I never heard this phrase before moving to the Midwest, but for the past 11 winters it has become part of my winter vocabulary. And tonight it returns, with tonight’s weather prediction of -16 degrees (without wind chill). Except this morning the morning radio personalities threw a twist into my ears. It’s a good thing that it’s too cold to snow, because then we don’t have to shovel when it’s so ridiculously cold. If school is canceled, at -35 degrees, wind chill or not, I will most likely hole my kids and myself up in the house. But at some point I do have a few errands to get done. I’ll warm the minivan up, make sure we’re dressed warm and head out. After all -16 and +16 pretty much feel the same to me.

“Weather permitting” now that phrase was a part of my mom’s winter vocabulary my entire life. It was the answer to all questions from the first snowflake until the first green bud. Me: “Mom can I go to my friend’s house?” Mom: “Weather permitting.” Mom: “Can I go to the mall?” Mom: “Weather permitting.” Me: “Can you we go shopping tomorrow?” Mom: “Weather permitting.” You get the idea! 

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Dreams

Monday Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday was observed, coincidentally there was also no school. When I told my 7-year old the week before that there was no school he asked why. I chose to tell him the reason was because it was Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday, rather than because it was a staff in-service day. Immediately he wanted to know how we were going to celebrate. I was proud of his comment and replied honestly by saying, “That’s a good question.” So for a few days I thought about it, forgot about it, thought about it and forgot about it, until Friday. At which point I thought there’s got to be a family-oriented celebration in town, especially on a no school day.

The first thing I did was call the library, a great resource in my town typically filled with no school day programs, a plethora of storytimes, etc. When I called a recording answered the phone telling me that the library would be closed on Monday. In observance of Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday?? NO! For an unpaid staff furlough day. Seriously?! Yes, but those thoughts will be saved for another time.

I made a few more calls before accepting that there was nothing going on in town before bedtime to celebrate Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday. My son’s question opened the door for me to create a new tradition, something that would make Martin Luther King Jr. proud. For a while there I lost the knowledge I had learned since becoming a mom…traditions often are not planned, they just happen.

Now, my town isn’t huge, only about 55,000 people, most of which are Caucasian. I did all I could do on short notice and gathered a group of moms and kids for a playgroup. I printed off a word search, a few coloring pages, and read aloud a biography on Martin Luther King Jr.’s life that was written for small children. It wasn’t glorious, it wasn’t as “deep” as I had hoped for, but it was something. If nothing else it reminded me that’s it not what I choose to do with my children that one day out of the year that will carry The Dream forward. It is what I expose them, and myself, to and teach them the other 364 days of the year that truly matter.

My dreams vary in size, but all are equally important to me.

I dream of a world where children do not know violence, only love. I dream of a world where people ask questions of others instead of staring at them and wondering. I dream of a day when no child falls asleep hungry or cold. I dream that my children have happy dreams at night while they sleep. I dream that I get more than 6 hours of sleep at night and awake rested. I dream about finding the “perfect for me and my family, perfect at this time” job. I dream that I grow as a person every day. I dream that the cancer gene died with my mom. I dream that photographs and stories of relatives who have died are enough to keep them a part of my children’s lives even if they never met them or will never remember them living.

Lastly, I dream that what I teach my children today, at a young age, becomes a part of them and stays with them well into adulthood.

I believe I honored Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. on January 20, 2009 when I picked my now 7-year old up early from preschool to snuggle on the couch with him to watch the inauguration of this country’s 44^th president, Barack Obama. The only presidential inauguration I recall ever watching. It was an emotional moment, a moment I was proud and honored to be a mom sharing the moment with a member of the next generation, so when he reads about it in a history book one day I can tell him exactly where he and I were.

"Rosa sat so Martin could walk, so Obama could run, so our children can fly"

To Blog or Not to Blog?

For months I have been contemplating creating a blog. My recurrent thoughts have included, “What will I write about?” “Do I want other people to read what I write?” “Will what I write now come back to haunt me in some way in the future? After all, everything on the Internet is permanent?” Since earlier this month, I have been keeping up with a few new blogs friends have begun. What I have found is that reading blogs makes me somehow feel like my time is being wasted just a little less than when I am on Facebook. I smile more when I read their blogs and occasionally find myself laughing out loud…REALLY laughing outloud, not just the online version of ha ha. So here I am creating a blog. It will give me somewhere to share my random thoughts and hopefully share a smile or laugh with someone. I also figure if no one reads this it gives me a place to make myself laugh out loud. After all if I can’t make myself laugh whom can I make laugh? So, here it is, my first blog entry. Now to figure out how to post it! LOL