geek

There are all kinds of geeks. If you're a geek when it comes to something cool, you're an enthusiast or a buff. A sports enthusiast. A fitness buff. An outdoors enthusiast. Because these passions... are cool sounding. In reality they both just make you smelly and sweaty (I know, I'm a buff and an enthusiast and I spend an inordinate amount of time being sweaty and smelly....luckily I am also a soap enthusiast). However, if you're into computers or fantasy/sci-fi, or comic book super heros....ohmigosh...you're such a geek.

I know this for a fact because when I graduated high school, I started dating a boy who'd graduated a year before me. He was a major sports enthusiast. He'd been a captain of our varsity football team and our state champion wrestling squad. He knew sports in and out, kept in shape. Rowr. 5 years later, I got totally played. I married a comic book geek with a plan for the zombie apocalypse. I married the same boy. I didn't ditch my high school jock hottie for a bespectacled nerd wearing mismatched plaids. He had an alter ego. It was very much like marrying Superman, to find out he was really Clark Kent, which is a whole different experience than marrying Clark Kent and finding out he can lift cars and fly.

I don't come from these kinds of people. I come from sports/car enthusiasts with a special interest in working enough to pay the damn bills. I had no idea that grown ass men (and yes I mean men, but we'll get to that later) got comics. Every week. Wha-wha-what???

Have you ever been in a neighborhood comic shop? Its like the bar on the old sitcom Cheers...but with less women, less having sex and less matching clothes. Everyone seems to know one another, the entire place seems to be engaged in the same conversation. And oh yeah. There are almost never any women. Back in the day, there were tables and tables of back stock comic in long white boxes. These are called long boxes. There is usually an organized mess: stacks of flyers, preview magazines, pop cans belonging to whatever geek is standing at the counter talking, etc. There are card board stand ups of comic book favorites like Wolverine, Batman, and Superman. I think its a law that there has to be a blow up Spiderman hanging from the ceiling somewhere. And then there is the gaming stuff.

My partner doesn't game, so I don't know a lot about that. But I'm pretty sure all the fairies and wizards and dragons you see there are for the gamers. Its interesting, right? You just imagine spiderman hitting it with the big breasted head piece wearing forest queen witch lady. Superman calls the wizards homophobic slurs and then the wizards blast him. If you've never been in a comic book store, this doesn't really happen. This is just my overactive imagination playing with the juxtaposition of the classic American icons of the hero world and the grimy underworld of fantasy that decorates these shops.

But this isn't where the cultural experience ends. The folks you see in a comic store are a gathering that you won't find anywhere else. You have pimply teenage boys who don't fit in with the jocks (see why my boy had to keep his geekdom a secret???). Then you have those boys twenty and thirty years later. Often they are wearing superhero shirts, or hawaiian shirts, jorts, tall socks, or sandals.Some are thin, some are heavy. Most are pale. I have only seen maybe a half dozen women all together at this comic store in all the years (a good ten to fifteen) that I have been going along for the ride. And these women (and I don't know how to say this without sounding like an asshole) were not obviously women right away.

It has taken me years to get anyone to acknowledge my presence in the comic shop when I go in with TB. But recently I've made friends with the guy who manages. And he gave me a book suggestion. I am reading The Dresden Files. Holy shit, people. This is good stuff. The main character is totally easy to relate to, the dialog is hilarious, and the stories have more twists and turns than your colon. Amazing stuff. And its a series, so you get to really enjoy the development of the characters. Not to mention that I really enjoy plowing my way through a well written series of stories. The Dresden Files are about a wizard who is also a detective. Yeah. Pretty much an urban version of Dungeons and Dragons in book form. I have to go to the Sci Fi/Fantasy section of the library or bookstore to get the books. Usually, the bookstore staff asks me if I 'need any help.' Like when I go to Home Depot...I don't look like I'm there on purpose, I suppose.

But I am a total geek about these books. I have to get 2 at a time, so that I always have one in reserve. I look forward to going with TB to the comic store so I can talk about the books with the manager who recommended them to me. Typically he and I talk, and then I wait while he checks out and converses with the other patrons while they very pointedly ignore my presence. Or, they wait until we are done talking while pointedly ignoring my presence.

Until the other day.

I was talking about my more recent reading with my Dresden Files friend when a Hawaiian shirt clad fan boy looked up tentatively. "I know just what series you're talking about, I've been trying to get him [pointing at his friend who was also ignoring me] to read it for years." And WHAMMO. I was in a conversation with the comic store guys. Like several of them. Not one of them that I know already.

I am a geek. Sweet.

about looking stupid....

I spend a great deal of my time looking stupid. I do stupid things. I mean I am a real doctor of philosophy, rather than a doctor like Dr. Dre or Dr. Pepper, but I am willing to bet that outside of work, there are more people in my life who do not know about that than those who do...but that's likely a whole 'nuther blog post. The point of that is, that most people are shocked when they find out that "yes I am dr. Err." Over the last couple of years I've postulated as to why jaws drop when I meet parents, mention a class I'm teaching to friends over wings, or someone refers to me as dr. or professor for the first time. My list is typically that they expect someone who is a dr./college professor to be a) a dude b) older c) lame d) all of the above.

I think that's a pretty good approximation of why I don't fit the stereotypical mold of a scholar, professional, etc. However, I have recently come to the conclusion that really the reason people don't think (believe) that I am anything beyond a dingbat is because I spend a lot of my time looking sort of stupid. I think that's a defining character trait of mine. I'm ok with the possibility of looking like a total tool.

Much of my tooliness revolves around my willingness/desire/obsession to try new things. Its not that I like to try new things for the sake of trying new things. Its more about that if I have a fear that if I don't try these new things I'll be one of those folks who says things like, "I've always wanted to do that."

This leads me to do a lot of things a lone. And let's face it. You look a bit dumber alone than with someone. And I've noticed that women, almost always go places in pairs. I am clearly horrible at being a woman.

My gym (and I hesitate to call it a gym...really its a box with minimal gear...no treadmills, no elliptical machines, just some weights, kettle bells, bars for pull ups and a trashcan for puking) is a prime example of this. In Krav Maga we regularly partner up. Duh, you can't very well practice getting out of a choke without someone choking you.... I regularly am left without a partner. At first I felt a little like the lame kid in gym class who always got picked last. And this was weird for me. Whatever problems I had with school (grades, dumb teachers, mouth that wouldn't quit...) getting picked for teams was never a problem. I was always first girl picked, right after varsity athletes (which means I was usually about third in the line up). But since I'm ok with looking stupid, I just hold up my hand and get a partner. But I started to watch the women in class before it begins. They regularly come in pairs. Partner in tow. So they won't be left alone and look stupid? Oh. I must have missed that girl memo.

I noticed a couple of years ago when I started working for Habitat for Humanity. All the women came with a buddy. I showed up with water, a lunch, and work boots. No partner to eat lunch with. It was ok. To be frank about it... the work is hard. Come lunch time, I just wanted to eat and take my stupid hard hat off. This seems to be a recurring theme with me. I went to school alone (I can't begin to tell you how many people I've known who've gone to grad school together). I ran my first races alone without thinking to bring even a cheering section. Its not that I don't have lovely people in my life who would do these things with me (though I don't know who would go to Krav and Crossfit with me....these are a bit crazy). Its just that I don't wait around for someone else to try them with me. Regularly, I try new things and then encourage my friends to try them. I am often their safety person.

Recently, I found a new adventure all by myself. I found a 'u-pick' farm. I wasn't sure what this was about. So I took off with a bottle of water and my directions. Or at least I thought I had my directions. They were on the kitchen counter doing me all kinds of good. It was ok, because the first time I got lost, I realized they were wrong anyway. I got myself back to civilization (people, farms are WAY in the country) and called TB to get the address so I could use the navigation in my phone. 20 minutes later, it seemed I was mere feet away. Except there was no farm and I was now so far out that I was on a dirt road. Alone. Holy crap, people. This city kid was starting question her sanity, listen for banjo music, and hope that her mouth wasn't too pretty. I was lost and WAY in the country. ALL BY MYSELF. Clearly, I didn't think this new adventure through before diving head first in.

About a quarter mile past where the farm should have been according to my navigation, I found it. A small (five or ten acres) farm with a hand painted sign. I got out wondering what I could expect. I knew they were open because I had the sense to call first and there were two cars in the gravel that constituted a small parking lot. What I'd found apprently was the farm version of the vanishing. I wandered all over looking for someone and no one was there. And no lie. I'm scared to death. I am WAY out there. If you're not from the city, maybe you don't get this. But if you are... you're nodding your head wondering what the hell I was thinking. Somewhere in the back of my head I'm thinking, 'how lame are you? you don't know how to work the farm market and now you're wandering around hoping to find someone to tell you what to do."

So I opened the passenger seat of my car leaned in and pulled out my cell phone. Lucky for me, a mini van pulled in at about that time and a lady got out asking me if I needed help. Um, apparently I had that look about me. This nice lady gave me a basket and a pair of scissors and told me to get at it. I asked where I could harvest produce from and she told me any place I wanted. I felt mad suspect at first. Like I was stealing Peter Rabbit style. But half hour or so later, I had a basket full of tomatoes, lettuce and squash. The lady encouraged me to come back and I'll likely bring a friend and my mom (who both will be more willing to go because I can show them the ropes).

I'm about to call an organic/grassfed/free range/no cage farm here in a bit. Its part of not only my paleo lifestyle, but also my hope to eat local and sustainable food. I have no idea how this works. It will be another time when I don't even know what questions to ask. Another conversation that starts out with, "Hi. I'm going to apologize ahead of time, because I have no idea what I'm doing or where to start. Can you help me out a bit?"

I also want to learn how to knit. I'm sure it will have several moments of feeling a little like clueless tool. I just hope that doesn't involve getting lost in the country....

changes

When I began this blog, I was starting a new chapter in my life. I kept the blog the way I was hoping to keep my life. Simple. A black and white text. Simple.
I still am working on my simple approach to life. I take pleasure in everyday and the simple fun that I create with those I love. I eat simply. I find my fun in simple things. Walks, runs, puppy snuggles.
Its a philosophy that is working well for me.
My winter has been complicated with my maternal grandmother's death. She was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and passed six weeks later. I've understood the anguish of seeing someone you love, loose someone they love. I have never seen my ma hurt like this. The situation is made markedly more complex with the lack of... um... speaking on my family's part for most of my life. Dysfunctional, addicted, and damaged as they are when I look at my 35 years on this planet, they have been on speaking terms with my immediate family for 13 of them (my first 8 years and five years during my twenties). My ma (with her amazing capacity for love and forgiveness) and her mother attempted to make amends and have what little bit of a relationship that they could muster in what days remained. My mom sat at her mother's bedside, patted her, brought special gifts of treats and imported favorite flowers to make the remaining time as pleasant as possible.
Her mother, however, did not choose to mend her relationship with me.
As my family gathered together in the last times (not lovingly... but together) I was not there. I suppose I could have gone without an invite or inquiry, but you have to know my family to understand that without either, I was not welcome. So my family very awkwardly did not mention my mom's only child in their terse catching up.
I felt horribly that I was not there to hold my mom's hand as she held her own mother's. I did what I could. Picked up gifts for her to take to her parents when she was too busy to go to the store. Cooked dinners and sent them to her and gave IV treatments to her dying cat (really... can the lady get a damn break?)
It was made beyond clear, that my mom has not been welcomed back with open arms. But she maintains a terse and weird relationship (perhaps more communication) with her now widowed father. Still there is no mention of his granddaughter who looks so much like his mother and is so much like him.
I still strive for simplicity in this less than simple situation. So I simply try to be the best me I can be everyday and accept this weirdness for what it is. Weird. And sad. And not something I can fix. So its not my problem.

One of my simple solutions has been found in new sports. Each week I take out whatever frustrations I might have pushed aside by kicking and punching and sweating in Krav Maga. Its simple. You hit. You get hit. You kick. You block. It leaves marks. It reminds me to be at peace and be powerful. They are part of the same circle.

Even more simple are my crossfit workouts (this has become a passion and an addiction). We do simple functional movements. Quickly. And many times. There is no shiny equipment. No one matches. Everyone swears. I love it.

As a result I've significantly changed my diet. Most of you who know me, know my frustration with the lack of results I've had with years and years of dedicated training and 'eating right.' I've recently begun eating a Paleolithic Diet. Its a huge shift from what I've done previously, but still very simple. I eat meat, a shit ton of veggies, fruit and nuts. No grains, no dairy, no sugar. That's it. I am already seeing results in crossfit that even my instructor is noticing. Last week I did my February 1x max deadlift...16 times. I do unmodified push ups. I feel really good. Its working for me. Perhaps not others, but me.

I like the simplicity in my training, and my eating. The focus on these parts of my life, the parts I can control help to create a simple way of dealing with the complicated things I cannot control. It really is quite simple. I control what I can. What I can't.... isn't my problem. Its so en grained in me, that finally I'm ready to find the color in my simplicity.

Snowdays, Happiness and Philosophy

Yesterday was a snow day. For a grown person, there is a system to snow days. You wake up a bit early to begin watching the news and lay in bed a wee bit longer waiting for your school district to run by on the ticker at the bottom of screen, hopeful that you'll be able to stay there. I love, love, love snow days. Growing up in Alaska we had two the entire 13 years I was in school. Both of these days I went to school only to find an empty parking lot because it didn't occur to me that there wouldn't be school (we had new superintendent of schools who was from Texas). Its an unplanned treat that I relish. Something in the winter to look forward to. A day off without a list of household chores, weekend jobs, or Krav classes.
So yesterday I spent extra time snuggled in bed, coffee in hand and puppy at my feet watching local news and The Today Show. I know, I know.... guilty pleasure, I guess. Really, I was doing some work for the university, drinking coffee with the TV was on for background. But I turned the volume up for this segment. The Happiness Project. Basically, a lady devoted a year to being happier. Taking pleasure in the little things. Her book is a best seller. Really? Really? Is this what we've come to? We need someone to remind us to take pleasure in the little things and that will make us happy?
Apparently so.
There is a part of me that is amazed by this. And then there is the other part of me. The discourse analyst (ya'll forget about that part of me, dontcha?). This part of me hears what people say. I hear the complaining they do. Christmas is too hard, grocery shopping is lame, I hate my job, the kids are driving me nuts, its too cold, its too hot, blah-zey skip.
I think about how my interactions with people go.
*****
"Oh. Junior high...that's a hard age."
Its an honor. I love it.
"Well. You're crazy." (read as: full of shit) Why would you do this with a doctorate?
I want to give back to a community that gave me a great deal.
Blank stare. I don't know why you got a doctorate if you're not going to use it.
Um. Well I do teach part time at the university and ya know, I like to think it helps the kids.
******
Looking at my green monster smoothie: "That is nasty. I don't know how you eat that. You're one of those weird healthy people. Working out all the time. That's all you do and its not like you're a size two."
Um. Don't really want to be a size two, I sort of like looking like a girl. The smoothie just tastes like any fruit smoothie. I like them it gives me 2 veggies and 3 fruits to start my day. I like to run and stuff. Its fun.
You have a weird idea of fun.
******
How do you drive so far to work every day?
Well ya know... I'm looking forward to being closer, but I've got a reliable car, and its kind of nice. I drink my coffee on the way in, talk to friends on the way home...its about the only time I'm sitting in the same spot every day. And plus, I have a beautiful country road drive every day. I get to watch the sun rise in the morning. I don't mind.
Well, I couldn't do that.
******
I think about my own life. The joy I get out of puppy snuggles or watching my rescue dogs who've come so far playing and being silly with each other. I enjoy immensely going to the grocery (I come from people who rarely have what they'd like to eat and sometimes haven't had enough...I love the grocery). I feel wonderful after a crossfit workout where I do a hundred push ups or a zillion squats (ok. maybe that's an exaggeration...but not much of one) before I go to work at 7 am. I am tickled to make a pizza with homemade rosemary crust that is as good as a pricey restaurant for only a couple of dollars (and it is healthy!). I think about how my students make me laugh everyday and how I think I broke a kid's heart when I told my class that I would be 35 in July (this makes me older than his parents...and he's got a bit of a crush...and older than his parents makes me old by 8th grade standards). Are you really?? I'm tickled to take my mom her lunch after 18 years of her making mine. The sunrise on the way to work really is beautiful and I drive past the homestead (the 33 plus acres that will someday be home) and smile at the way the sun comes up behind the woods.
I don't lust after fancy purses (ok. I like a sharp purse but I don't need a collection), I don't need fancy cars (something to hold two big dogs and camping gear and a bike rack will do me), and the house we're looking to build is for us and our simple life, not status. Granted, I've decided what life I want to have. I didn't go to the academy full time...it wasn't a good fit for me...it doesn't lend itself to simplicity. I chose an odd match of a partner, but a good and healthy relationship...and I stick to it. I choose friendships that are positive and supportive. But I didn't need a book to tell me not to take for granted that Big Dog just put his head on my knee and is wiggling his tail at me telling me things with this doggie telepathy.
What the hell has happened to the world that we need books to remind us of this?

An experiment in black beans...

I found this recipe for black bean soup over the holiday break.
I love black bean soup.
According to he Law of Soup (see Rules for Being Dr. Err section 8) it is imperative that I try to make a large batch of soup to freeze for easy dinners (read as: when I get home late and The Boy has to make dinner). Typically, I take about half of my homemade soups to my mom for her lunches at work. Its a joy to know that she is getting a good/whole meal in and she likes it. She and my dad both work a lot (wonder where I get it...) and my dad fixes all dinners when my mom works. But he's not as into the whole food philosophy as I am... or vegetables for that matter. That's a RIOT considering that not eating veggies was.not.an.option. when I was growing up.

/*disclaimer* I am totally thankful for his making me eat vegetables when I was a kid because it has shaped who I am now. However, that led to considerable drama when I was a young person and once it led to me carrying around a nasty slimy cooked carrot for a day or two when I was four. *ahem* I get my stubborn streak from my dad. /*disclaimer*

This recipe appealed to me for many reasons. One, because I think I like TGIF's black bean soup (yes, I still have to ask my mom what kind of gravy I like when I go out to eat. shoot me.). Two, I know my mom likes it and she's a third of my eating audience. Three, it has a potential for a high vegetable content. So I doubled the recipe and gave it a go.


Doubling the recipe leads to a lot of veggie cut-up prep work (one reason I used this recipe is because I figured I could sneak in a serving of veggies in each bowl). To cut up double amounts (and i always add a bit extra in the veggie department) and some extra celery for lentil tacos later this week, my total cut up time was 15 minutes or so. I'm not a real cook people....no real knife skills for this kid.


*notice I cut the green peppers larger....I really like green peppers and wanted to really be able to taste them.

You need 8 cans of black beans for a double batch of this soup. I had 4. Crap. Lucky for me, I had 6 cups of frozen beans that I had cooked in the garage. Sweet. Except for that when I got them in the pot, I wasn't sure if they were black beans or red ones...but I'm pretty sure they were black beans. :)

Once everything was in the pot I let it simmer for an hour and a half or so.


I got right around 10 large bowls out of this recipe. Serving and a half of veggies per bowl. *suh-weet!* I garnished with vegan cheese and tofutti sour cream. My mom and TB love, love, love it. In fact, TB said its the best soup that I've ever fixed. I dunno that I'd go that far...but with a side of cornbread it is a wonderful dinner. I will totally be fixing it again.

All in all, its a way cheap, healthy, and high protein meal. And the more I think about it... the more sure I am that the beans were black....

And the cooking begins

It has been wonderful to have some time off. I worked the first week of break and then spent much of the week after Christmas with one of these dogs in my lap.



Can you blame me? 74 pounds for the light colored one and 60 pounds for the little black one, I often end up with both of them trying to squeeze next to me. There is no better way to recharge one's batteries than by sucking up the good energy of these two boys.

I've been relieved of my duties at my mom's store until there is a busy day, she can't be there, or one of her (I'll save my commentary here) employees quits to do um...nothing. Good help is damn hard to find, people. I've got only one class to teach at the university and am looking forward to working on getting to that sense of balance in my life. I'm very much looking forward to trying some new recipes that I've been drooling over the last couple of months. I've got a fancy new food processor (like, I'm a little scared to use it) and a big butcher's block cutting board and am ready to get busy using them. We'll see just how fuzzy that fantasy/reality line gets between my kitchen and the food network.

Although...a side note for those of you who know me.... I hate stuff out on my counters. I even put the burner thingies away on my stove and get them out when I need them. However, with my little kitchen and little bit of storage I am doing a piss poor job of it.... My cutting block, red Kitchen Aid stand mixer (swoon), Kitchen Aide Architect processor, Kitchen Aid blender, (thus far, I have been really happy with these appliances) espresso machine and coffee pot all live on the counter. I've also added some lovely large glass jars for things like onions, potatoes, apples, and garlic because my crisper drawers (and meat drawer which is usually full of stuff that should be crispered) isn't big enough. They are pretty and look really sharp, but they are on the counter. Gah. I have to keep a beat down like hold on my inner Rain(WO)man.

I've been wanting to make my own veggie burgers. Making them yourself, you control things like salt, additives and any overly processed ingredients. Also, you're looking at a buck or so for maybe 8 burgers instead of maybe eight bucks for the same bought in a store. That extra money goes pretty far on organic root veggies and apples. I noticed on Vegan Dad (see my blog roll) a recipe for sausages and thought it would be the same. FAIL. Somewhere, I blew it. Maybe its because I don't have a real steamer.

This is my stock pot full of water going at a full tilt boogie boil.
I've decided that even if it had worked, the hour plus it would have taken to make four... was not worth it. I can live with buying my vegan sausages from Trader Joe's.

However, in my ongoing quest to 'eat the rainbow' and increase my veggie intake (in a real way...beyond, 'this is my side of veggies' which often leaves you feeling like you're grazing) I also made squash cakes. They're like potato cakes only um, with no potatoes. I cooked a spaghetti squash, mixed in a third cup of flour, 4tbsp Earth Balance, a half cup of Veggie cheese and a healthy dose of pepper.



I think I could have gotten away with less oil because of the fats on the inside (maybe just cooking spray or olive oil in my Misto). Likewise, I think I could have cut the Earth Balance a wee bit, although damn... it was good. Additionally, I think a plant based diet can get a bit lean on the fats if you're not careful. Finally, the smaller you make these, the better. a quarter of a cup is pretty good.

These were got yummier, the more I thought about it. I like them for dinner better than breakfast, I think. Next time I'd like to add a pinch of chili flakes. But a great and inexpensive way to get in some yellow veggies. I've got some good left overs, but am going to reheat them in the oven because the 'crisp' value is important.

Today I've got a black bean soup I'm itching to make and some pinto bean veggie burgers I want to cook ahead. Wish me luck that my new processor doesn't outsmart me.