The Big Wave.

I remember reading the story The Big Wave, by Pearl S. Buck, when I was in the fourth grade.  Upon hearing the news of the earthquake and resulting tsunami in Japan this past Friday, my thoughts, after immediately worrying about my coworkers and the people of Japan, went to the book. 

Essentially, the book is about two boys who are friends, one a mountainside farmer, the other a fisherman.  A tsunami hits the fishing village and wipes away one boy's family, who is then adopted by the farming family and tries to assume a new life with his adopted family.  In the end, when the fishing boy comes of age, he decides to return to the life of a fisherman, against the warning of his mountain-dwelling friend, and poignantly verbalizes the moral of the story: that it is only in the face of danger that one finds bravery and the appreciation of how wonderful life is. 

When I begin to think about people who live in "disaster prone areas," like the Pacific Ring of Fire, or next to volcanoes (et al.), I can't help but think that I wouldn't  be able to handle living in constant fear of something bad happening.  I would worry incessantly (more than I already do, if you can believe it).  I feel like I have a very good grasp on the concept of mortality and the fleeting nature of life, but I can't say that I would ever be able to stand in the face of danger, like these people do on a daily basis, and be ok. 

Regardless, my heart is so, very heavy with all the terrible news coming from Japan, and while my words can offer little solace in their current situation, I can say, undoubtedly, that they are much braver than I will ever be. 

::::::  American Red Cross Support Efforts  ::::::

::::::::::::::::::: The Citizen Effect :::::::::::::::::::

::::::::  Other Earthquake Relief Options  ::::::::

:::::::::  Lady Gaga Japan Relief Bracelet  :::::::::

I have been in the process of compiling a post about candied orange peel, but just can't bear to finish writing about something so frivolous at the moment.  It will come in time, however.

Difficult Conversations.

This past week has been National Eating Disorder Awareness Week.  I've been struggling with the idea of posting something on this topic, but realize that if people don't begin having healthy conversations, little progress will ever be made...

Eating disorders have had an indirect and profound effect on my life, since a family member was diagnosed with one nine years ago.  Previously, I had no real idea how dangerous and difficult these disorders could be.  It was easy to joke around about "throwing up lunch to lose a few pounds," obsessing over our looks and how much weight we needed to lose to be "perfect," and even easier to look down our noses at girls who were rumored to be anorexic.  It was especially easy to be an outsider to this disease, until it took a direct hit on my family.  Since the first time I realized that an eating disorder had infiltrated someone I care deeply about, my thoughts and understanding about the disease and its victims have changed drastically. 

At first, it was something that needed to be kept a secret.  Eating disorders are, after all, "dirty little secrets."  They are considered taboo, even though there are more people in the United States with eating disorders than there are those with Alzheimers (source). For some reason, society has kept this disease hidden in the underbelly of psychiatric medicine, giving it less attention, insurance coverage(!), and medical funding than schizophrenia, and allowing it to cause more premature deaths than any other psychiatric disorder (source).  Eating disorders are much more than a few facts, however.  They affect real people and real families, and they are not just about "food."  There is a very intricate and little understood network of factors and conditions that lead to the development of eating disorders, and while I've been involved for nine years, I still don't fully understand their complexities. 

One thing I've learned from being a family member of a person with an eating disorder, is that society is completely unaware of the effects that negativity and unhealthy self-images have on the people around them.  I can't tell you how many times I've overheard someone joking about overeating by saying, "I'll just take a minute to throw it up in the bathroom," someone being critical of their own or someone else's weight, or someone obsessing over each and every pound and clothing size dropped; things that I, myself, discussed and joked about before an eating disorder was holding my loved one hostage.  

Comments like these now cut me to the bone.  I take them very personally, which is a fault of my own, but after having to see someone I love struggle so severely with a disease that has essentially been influenced by society's embrace of a need to be thin and superficially beautiful, it's difficult to let these comments go.  It would be no different than someone jesting about cancer, diabetes, Alzheimer's, or any other disease.  I think it's difficult for people to realize that there's anything wrong with joking about eating disorders, because it is such a secretive illness, and many people think it's not a real disease.  

It took a very long time for our family to be able to admit to people that there was a problem, and to this day, it's still difficult.  Bringing my involvement with eating disorders into this public arena is difficult for me, but I felt that I should participate in NEDA Week and bring more awareness to the cause, since eating disorders affect my life every single day of every week.  

If you're reading this, and care about this cause, please go to the National Eating Disorders Awareness website and do some research on eating disorders.  Read some of the personal stories about people who have recovered from eating disorders and family members who have had loved ones with this disease.  Even if you don't research the illness, please be mindful of the comments and images you're putting out into society.  You may not be personally affected by such negative comments or the narrow definitions of beauty that are so commonly embraced, but some people are, and you could potentially save someone's life by refraining from the negativity and embracing your own beauty. 

"Life is messy. Life is imperfect. Life is about progress, not perfection."  

~ Elizabeth Showers, as quoted on Alicia's blog, Alicia B. Designs. 

image above from the National Eating Disorder Awareness Website

Snow can wait, I forgot my mittens...

I feel so ridiculous posting song lyrics as post titles, but I've been so melodramatic lately, that it just seems to fit...

We've had an absolutely obscene amount of snow here in the past few weeks.  It's causing roofs to collapse, the roads aren't being plowed properly, and there's talk of taking away vacation days from kids who've hit the jackpot in snow days.

I don't mind, of course, because I love winter.  I love the snow, the cold, the smell of the air.  I woke up on my birthday, with a fresh coating of pure white, and was in complete heaven.  We haven't had this much snow since I was twelve, and it's making me a bit nostalgic when I look at the plowed snow banks that skyrocketed above my 5'2" height weeks ago.  As a student at UMaine, one of my favorite things was walking to class in the freezing cold with a few feet of snow on the ground.  I don't know what it is, but it just gives me a sense of complete peace and calm, and I feel at ease with myself and my surroundings. I still love being outside first thing in the morning after a snow storm; even the small act of walking to my car puts me instantly in a good mood.  Call me crazy...

My camera has been staring at me for the past few weeks, increasing the amount of guilt I've been feeling for not uploading photos from its memory card, so I wanted to post these pics I took during one of the storms, when I trekked down to the Gore Estate, a historic mansion down the street from our apartment.  It was a beautiful afternoon, and the snow was the type that sticks to everything. I'm still (embarassingly enough) working on figuring out the settings on my camera, so these were edited in Picnik, which I've found to be a lifesaver for fixing my amateur photos. 

 

A Farewell to Peaches.

 image from here.

 A couple of months ago, while reading an issue of House Beautiful Magazine, I came across a cookbook review for Miss Dahl's Voluptuous Delights: Recipes for Every Season, Mood and Appetite, by Sophie Dahl.  I was intrigued by the interview, but what really convinced me to go purchase the book that day, was her recipe for Cinnamon Roast Peaches.  This recipe is easy.  And Delicious (with a capital D).  I've been making it throughout the summer, and am sad to say that I think that this past weekend will have been my last foray with this recipe for a while, as peaches are past peak.  (Although, I couldn't resist buying some more peaches on sale at Whole Foods this weekend, so I guess I'll make the recipe at least once more!)  
I don't follow the recipe exactly, but since it's pretty loosey-goosey to begin with, it's difficult to screw these up.  I once tried substituting nectarines, because, quite frankly, fuzzy peach skins sometimes enliven my gag reflex, but the substitution really wasn't as good as the peaches.  I think that this recipe could be great with apple wedges or pear halves in the fall/winter, when peaches are no longer in season, but don't take my word for it.   

Cinnamon Roast Peaches

adapted from Miss Dahl's Voluptuous Delights

2 peaches, ripe but firm

Cinnamon

Brown Sugar

Butter

Greek Yogurt (I prefer Vanilla)

Honey, optional

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.  Halve the peaches, removing the pits, but keeping the halves generally intact.  Place peaches in a roasting pan, and sprinkle each half with cinnamon and brown sugar, then top with a small dab of butter. Roast in the oven 10 minutes, or until the peaches are soft and the butter has melted.  Serve warm with a dollop (or two) of yogurt.  Alternatively, you could sweeten the yogurt with a drizzle of honey, but I prefer the contrast of the tangy yogurt with the sweet peaches.

Gearing up for Fall.

It's probably no surprise to anyone by now that my favorite season is fall.  I love everything about it: the crisp, cool air; the smell of damp, decaying leaves and wood stoves; the comfort in wearing cozy sweaters and scarves; school supplies, including bouquets of freshly sharpened pencils; and especially piping hot chai tea and pumpkin spice lattes.

After hurricane Earl this weekend, we got our first taste of fall-ish air here in New England, and I'm longing for the days to become permanently cooler and the leaves to begin turning beautiful shades of gold and orange.  Summer was brutally hot and humid up here.  I'm not a fan of the heat and humidity, but it was definitely better than the previous summer, which consisted mainly of rain. 

Fall mornings have a specific smell up here that's difficult to describe.  It's not earthy and damp like spring, not dry and frozen like winter, and not clean and dewy like summer, but more of a crisp, smoky smell.  Fall is complete sensory overload.  I love the flavors that are accompanied by the cooler weather and, even though it may sound crazy, I love the transition from the long, lanky days of summer to the shorter, brisker days of winter.  For me, there's something so exciting about the sun setting earlier with that special slant that only comes about between September and October.  I love stepping outside on a cool, fall evening and looking up at the stars, seeing Orion approaching for the winter.  

One of my all time favorite books, Salem's Lot, by Stephen King has the best description of fall in New England that couldn't better describe my feelings:

When fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass ... it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed.  It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you.  

...

In the fall, night comes like this...  The sun loses its thin grip on the air first, turning it cold, making it remember that winter is coming and winter will be long.  Thin clouds form, and the shadows lengthen out.  They have no breadth, as summer shadows have; there are no leaves on the trees or fat clouds in the sky to make them thick. They are gaunt, mean shadows that bite the ground like teeth. 

There's something so comforting about fall (well, maybe not the whole biting shadows part in that quote).  The clothing, the food, the cultural significance of the harvest.  I really have to laugh at myself, though, because my favorite season, the season during which I feel the most mentally at peace with myself and others, is the season associated with impending death and decay.  Go figure!  

I have a lot of good intentions for this fall, but most of all, I'm going to make sure that I enjoy every last minute of it, because for the past few years, time has seemed to be flying by and I haven't had a chance to appreciate my surroundings as much as I often wish I could.  The thermostat is still reading a warm 80 degrees this afternoon, which makes writing this post even more difficult and nagging.  Dear Fall, I'm waiting...