Last Wednesday I left for North Carolina to visit my good friend Judith (from college) for her baby shower. Since we never see each other I was going to come early so we’d have a few days to spend together. She took some time off from work (she’s an RN at the Duke medical center) and we were going to go to the coast where her parent’s have a house in the Outer Banks.

So, on Thursday morning we got up, made coffee (for me) and chatted for a bit before she rushed out to get to a doctor’s appointment at 9:30am. She told me she’d be back in an hour….. but she never came home! I went for a run, showered, made some breakfast and then still no word. I began to get concerned and decided to take the dog on a walk to keep myself busy and since he had been so devastated to see me leave to run without him. When I returned to the house there was message from Walter, her husband (and yes: they are named Judith & Walter, and no: they are not 75, they are in their late 20′s). Apparently they were running more tests. hmmm.

Well, the phone calls and messages went throughout the day… I slept with the dog in the warm sunshine on the porch and read the addicting novel that I bought in the Newark airport: (The Other Boleyn Girl). And then the call came that she was scheduled to have a C-section at 6:00pm. Judith’s wonderful mom and sister came to pick me up around 4 and we headed to get tiny diapers and other last minute supplies at Babies R’ Us… (wow, that was an overwhelming place). And then they took me, finally, to Whole Foods… I had eaten Judith out of pumpkin seeds and dried cranberries and was very hungry. Then we headed to the hospital.

I talked to Judith in her room right before they took her in. She was calm. She is always calm. This is perhaps one of her greatest strengths… and why we had been such great friends so quickly. She is so steady and grounding and the only person (besides Ian of course) who I think I could ever live with long term. She told me what they expected and how it would go and she was excited, in the way that Judith gets excited and she was, I could tell, under the cover of collection, a little nervous. Because this was all so new to me, it was quite surreal.

The surgery came and went very quickly and soon we were allowed to see baby Alister, all 4 lbs and 12 oz of him, through the glass of the baby area. He looked so tiny and helpless squirming in his little plastic bassinet. And how strange that just 45 minutes ago, he was inside my friend as I hugged her. It was a lot to take in and at once, I understood the commonly used phrased: “the miracle of birth.”

Though I hadn’t planned to be there and it meant less time with my friend, I was so happy to have been there for the occasion. When we left the hospital that night, her parents and sister and I celebrated at a nice dinner with a bottle of champagne and toasted the new baby boy.

I spent the next few days reading my novel, walking the dog, roaming Whole Foods, hanging out with Judith’s sister and brother and visiting the hospital. It was a long trip for 5 days. In a way it was totally exhausting and in other, it was remarkably enlightening. In any case, it was much to digest.

Within white culture, it is agreed upon that if Canada had better weather it would be a perfect place.
Being aware that this information can be used quite easily to gain the trust of white people. Whenever they say, “I’m moving to Canada,” you must immediately respond with “I have relatives in Canada.”

When I read this, I immediately thought: I DO HAVE RELATIVES IN CANADA.
On the end of the article he adds these notes:

Note: Canadian white people threaten to move to Europe.

Note: Europeans are unable to threaten to move anywhere.

I actually cried reading some of the posts. I probably looked like a crazy person in the cafe where I was sitting on my laptop… which should probably be the topic of a post in and of itself. “Blogging” too…

I love Irony, oh wait… that is #50.

I have some logistics figured out, but many I still have to plan. I am getting really excited about seeing people who I haven’t in long time!

Love,
Dana

Sipping on my coffee here in the mid afternoon sunshine, I wonder if living here would actually kill me. August through November wasn’t so bad, at least not three years ago when I settled into my double studio apartment across from Hayward field. It was bittersweet to say the least. Like a child contently playing at dusk, I wasn’t ready to come inside yet and settle down. After weeks spent running and exploring the eastern Oregon wilderness, law school felt like a lead weight attached to my ankle, relentlessly pulling me down. I fell in love with Eugene the spring before. After a relapse of plantar resulted in a disappointing track season my senior year, I felt like I needed another shot at collegiate distance running. Whatever I was out to prove, I was still chasing.

And so as the acceptance letters arrived, it came down to Colorado or Oregon. On one hand there was in-state tuition, and all the comforts of home with friends and family nearby, mountains, skiing, and everything else familiar. On the other hand there was something new and exciting about Eugene. It had a presence and energy that appealed to me, both as a runner and a citizen. And Dave was in Oregon. That didn’t make my decision, but it made my decision easier. Watching the monarchs flutter on the petunias now I understand why I’m still in the great Northwest. I admit, though, that I still feel very much like a mountain girl playing at city life. Maybe after ten years I’ll start to consider myself an Oregonian, instead of an outsider or a transplant. Still, every time I pull out my Colorado driver’s license I feel a sheepish sense of comfort.

We all have days that are burned into our memory- that for one reason or another we can’t let go of, even if forgetting was for the best. This was one of those times. October light was breaking through the blinds as usual that morning when I turned toward the clock to open my eyes. I hated Mondays even more then. They meant a long drive down I-5 to make it to Civil Procedure on time. There is nothing particularly bright about the overcast days that fill the months from fall to spring, but if you’ve lived here long enough, you begin to squint nonetheless. The window faced another building, another set of blinds looking back. I lay there heavy, unable to collect my thoughts, for once not knowing how to push everything back into place. Finally without meaning to, I opened my mouth, “I’m not going back.”

There was no argument. I had no idea what I wanted- but I didn’t want to be miserable. There are a thousand reasons why I told myself I didn’t belong there. But ultimately when you are unhappy, it doesn’t matter. As an endurance athlete, you are taught to persist through pain, pushing your body farther than it wants to go on its own. The first twenty-two years of my life had been based on the practice of putting mind over matter, delayed gratification, and perfectionism. I still feel that it was the single, most powerful decision I have ever made. And I’ve been dealing with it on many levels ever since.

Recently in a bookstore, skimming through Dr. Drew’s book, I came across a passage where he describes the difference between high school girls and boys. Boys, he says have nothing to present at that age, they have no idea who they are yet. In these formative years relationships are difficult because the boy is trying to attract a girl, but really doesn’t have a firm grip on what he is looking for because he has much to learn about himself. Girls, on the other hand, have it all together as seniors in high school, it is only later when they begin to lose themselves. Reading this passage I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Human experience really isn’t so different. This hit the nail on the head for me. And yet, we feel completely isolated in our own problems. No one really talks about this, not enough. Before my 18th birthday, I was never wrong about anything. And yet, I have managed to lose myself after high school, twice.

The first time was my freshman year in college. At first all I wanted was anonymity. I wanted a chance to start over and not be the kid that all the other parents want their kids to be more like. After living in a small town where everyone read about my accomplishments in the local paper, I started to feel like I lived under a magnifying glass. The heat was exhausting, but I dealt with it because I knew there was a looming expiration date to it all- a light at the end of the tunnel. Junior Olympics came and went, with two gold medals and a record to take home. My father drove to Seattle from a business meeting in Montana to watch the finals. In both races I crossed the line and ran into his arms. We both cried and I knew that in a couple weeks, we would be back in the Northwest for college, and that next time he would go home without me.

The transition from child to student to adult is supposed to be seamless. As long as you follow the path that is. I started to realize that this was the main reason I was in law school, because it seemed like a logical next step. I had no real passion for it, no good answer for the question that everyone always asks. What are you going to do next? Any graduate will tell you how tiresome it is to be on the receiving end of this query. I didn’t know. I wanted to run, I wanted to play in the mountains, to be a kid in the summer, and that was about it. College was fun and exciting and exhausting. I wanted a break, and I thought that maybe I could reconnect with myself again a little better after taking a step back. There were so many great memories, but much of it I was ready to leave in the past. I was ready to move again.

Last Sunday, after running 3 times in two weeks- Ian decides that he should run to bank and deposit a check. Being 34 degrees (and snowing!) and not really wanting to run by myself, I beg to go too. The hitch in the plan is that since we moved in June, our joint account is housed at a bank about 8 miles away. No big deal. I must have been well rested or something, because I surprised myself a little being able to make it back so quickly.

The rest of the day, consequently, all we managed was to walk to coffee (Ian hates coffee, but drinks chai), play on the computer, and fix dinner. Not a bad Sunday really…. and I wish I could say that life was generally more exciting than that, but not having many free days together in a few months…. I LOVE those times.

I think the light- or lack of light- is getting to me. The mornings are SO dark… and then by 3:00 I start thinking it is getting late. Last night we actually ate dinner at 5:00….!

Anyways- last week we saw “What would Jesus Buy” at the Mission. It was definitely disturbing on many levels. In fact, I don’t know which was more disturbing: the disgusting state of the typical over-extended American consumer; the advertising culture that we subject our children to and the greedy monsters they become; the way we equate money with love; or the struggling band of misfits that is the “Church of Stop Shopping.”

I will give Rev. Billy credit for one thing: I wouldn’t be surprised if Mickey Mouse did turn out to be the Anti-Christ.

Better get to the gym. cheers.

Sometimes it seems like I spend an inordinate amount of time and energy food shopping and reading ingredient lists and nutrition facts. Not that this is anything particularly new- I was raised to be a label reader, but since discovering the gluten intolerance, I’ve developed an even stricter criteria for what qualifies as cleanliness. When I stop to think about the hours I spend searching for clean ingredients, it does make me wonder how my time could be better put to use. Do you ever jump for joy when you find the words “gluten free” ACTUALLY printed on the container? I do! Not that this is a sure fire fix, but it does make it much easier.

The fact is that wheat products, soy, or dairy derivatives are added to everything now.
Basically these are the criteria that I use:

1. Gluten Free
2. Egg Free
3. Dairy Free
4. Soy Free
5. No Transfat (hydrogenated oils)
6. No HFC (high-fructose corn syrup)

It definitely helps to have stores like Trader Joes and Whole Foods who, at least, don’t carry products with HFC or transfat. I’ll stop venting now. I’m sure that it will only get better in the future as demand fuels the market.

Peace.

Tuesday afternoon I headed to Vancouver and picked up a 10 lb bag of custom-mixed gluten-free flour from Mike and Marie at Bavarian Mills. More on them later, but they are absolutely amazing! I am excited to start on some recipes with it. They are a walking encyclopedia of celiac knowledge and baking expertise. I hardly noticed that two hours flew by while we were talking in their facility!

So after another ingredient voyage yesterday, I’ll be ready to do some serious volume this weekend. Just need to narrow it down still to a few recipes. Something to work on for Friday when I’m stuck on the hill for 10 hours.

Better lace up…. it is still so dark! Seems like fall here this month already.