SAD - It's not depression, it's a throwback

What if Seasonal Affective Disorder (for winter, at least) is actually a coping mechanism? I mean, think about it...  A lot more of human history happened by candlelight than by electric light. When there was more night than day and the weather was bitter, people did as little as possible outdoor work, then kept themselves and their livestock indoors where it was warmer and safer. They slept more, which helped to conserve their often meager resources through that season. If a person had their normal levels of energy, cabin fever would be a serious problem, but S.A.D. would help avoid that situation. 

S.A.D. feels different from my other depression, too. During other depressive episodes, I experience self-loathing, sometimes suicidal thoughts, insomnia, and irrational anger/annoyance, in addition to my lack of motivation or energy. During S.A.D. episodes, I feel like sleeping more, eating things that increase my personal layers of insulation, and sitting quietly indoors, but I don't feel badly about myself. My genetic background includes a lot of German along with a smattering of other northern European influences. In other words, people who would have spend half of the year sleeping more, eating high-calorie meals, and staying indoors as much as possible. So maybe my S.A.D. is not a disorder at all--it's an evolutionary coping mechanism for conditions that no longer exist. Because we have electric lights, cars, and better heaters, we are now expected to continue "business as usual" all year long. But my system is geared toward a season of withdrawal and quiet, so continuing to keep up with everyday life is difficult for me.

Maybe this winter, I'll try to find a happy medium. Exercise just enough to stay strong, go to bed a little earlier, and schedule some time to sit quietly and read every day. I'll give myself permission to rest and retreat a little more and cooperate with my instincts.

Apparently, winter drools a little...

Huevos Whatever

Here's another "open a can of" recipe that works for any meal.  It's particularly good as second breakfast after a long run.  There has been some controversy over what to call it, as my roomie thought it looked Christmasy but I feel that the number of green things in the dish was more important.  (I also suspect that giving it a holiday name might limit the number of weekends that some people would be willing to eat it.)  We have currently settled on calling it "Huevos Verdes" when it's snuggled under a blanket of guacamole* or using "Huevos Navidad" when it's topped with golden shredded cheese.  Whatever the name, I call it stupendous weekend food:

Huevos Whatever/Huevos Verdes/Huevos Navidad

approx. 1 tsp butter
14 oz can fire-roasted diced tomatoes
1/2 bag of frozen chopped spinach (they are 12 oz, I think?)
1 tsp ground cumin
1 1/2 tsp chili powder
2-4 eggs
Guacamole or shredded cheese

Melt the butter in a frying pan or saute pan over medium heat.  Add tomatoes (with their juice) and heat until simmering.  Add frozen spinach.  Heat, stirring occasionally, until spinach is warmed through.  Thoroughly mix in cumin and chili powder.  Simmer until liquid has thickened/evaporated to your taste.  Turn the heat down to medium-low and use a large spoon to make one depression in the mixture for each egg.  Break the eggs into the nests you made for them.  Put a lid on the pan and cook until the egg is done the way you like it.  (I like runny yolks, my roomie prefers solid ones.  He's a bit odd.)  Scoop into bowls and top with guacamole or shredded cheese.  Enjoy!


What will you call yours?  Leave a comment and let me know!  (Or leave a comment and correct my admittedly faulty Spanish--whatever pleases you most.)

*Thanks for that description, Papa Don.  It's a comforting dish and that was the perfect phrase for it.

Wobbling

I was reading a post by "Jen" e sais quoi the other day, and now I’m wondering…what would it be like if you really did fly instead of falling?  This has almost nothing to do with her beautiful post, and everything to do with the goofy things my brain does to entertain itself when I’m supposed to be getting things done.  But no, really.  What would it be like if you thought you were going to fall and then you didn’t?  Like an avian first timer, would you go through a few clumsy flaps, then suddenly manage the trick of it?  Would a human instinctively feel how the air currents would lift or drop you?  Or would it be a wobbly, wild ride full of startling falls and random graceful glides?  I’m betting on wobbly, but that may be because I’ve been feeling a bit wobbly myself lately.  I think my depression is finally beginning to lift, but it’s been with me so long this time that I’m having to re-learn how to be okay.  It’s like climbing a staircase where you suspect one of the steps may break.  You continue walking up, but there’s this tension in your body because you keep expecting to have to catch yourself.  A part of me wants to start running—just haul ass up the steps, let them break behind me if they want, I'll zoom upward and at the top I'll fly off into amazing.  Sometimes I think that part of me is brave, sometimes I think it’s foolhardy.  Either way, wobbly or wild, things are improving.  That’s the important part.

Missing Art

Once upon a time, I thought of myself as an artist.  I’ve played around with a wide variety of tools and techniques over the years.  About a week ago, an image popped into my mind just as I was waking up and I saw it as a pen and ink drawing.  As I was talking to a friend who agreed to be a hand model for the piece, I realized that it has been years since I worked on anything I thought of as an art project.  Between the divorce (and subsequent dating), working 6 days a week, and learning to run, I haven’t had much time for art.  I created a piece of jewelry for friend a couple of years ago, and a handmade book/journal for my mom a year or two prior to that.  That’s it.

Of course, I’ve been writing during this time period.  Mostly blog posts, but also poetry.  I’m not certain why I don’t consider writing as art.  Maybe because the process of composing an essay is so different from the process of designing?  Poems usually come to me in a rush and as a whole, editing rarely required, so that process is different from either writing or designing.  Generally, it seems I have been crafting—creating chocolate flavors and costumes and crocheting and card-making.  These things sometimes use techniques from my various artistic endeavors, but they aren’t really art.  They rarely evoke an emotional response, which has normally been my motivation for creating art in the past.

Definitions aside, I have experienced inspiration for the first time in a very long time.  Now I’m worried that my drawing skills have deteriorated, so I’ve started making backup plans to create the image as a sculpture, possibly even as a painting.  Ah, my lack of confidence makes me want to shake myself until my eyeballs rattle.  Thank heaven for the library—I picked up a couple of drawing books, including this one, which looks like a fun way to get back to my roots.   

Doesn't it look like fun?

I’ve been working so much in other media that I haven’t done any drawing other than sketching costume or jewelry ideas in maybe a decade.  In flipping through the book, I’ve found quite a few exercises that make me nervous but also excited.  It’s tough to say how this will turn out, but I’ve got a new sketchbook and sharpened my pencils.  Now I just have to find a volunteer to be a model for my life drawings…anyone up for it?  Heck, you get naked and sit still while you’re randomly stared at for 3 hours—who WOULDN’T want to try that?

Decisions, decisions

Wow, it’s been an awfully long time since I wrote anything.  If anyone is still out there, I’m in the midst of a quandary and could use some other perspectives.

A couple of months ago, I announced that I was through with races.  I ran a half marathon with someone and some comments were made that caused me to realize that I don’t want my running buddies to feel like they are being held back if they run with me, and I don’t really want people to have to stand around and wait for me to finish.  I decided that Slowpoke Sarah would rather be support crew at the races than feel like that again. 

However…

Most of my running buddies are not trail runners.  We have a wide range of asphalt trails in town and their training groups use those much of the time.  I’m perfectly happy to run in the woods by myself and they prefer to run with others.  There is a group in the area that puts together a series of trail races, starting with a 5k in January and ending with a marathon in June.  I have run a couple of their races in the past, and they have been fairly informal and fun but really tough.  I’m considering signing up for the whole series because there is a crazy part of me that wants to know if I can run a marathon.

Pros:

I can train on the marathon course every weekend if I want to.  I won’t have to worry about holding anyone back because I’ll usually be alone.  If I complete the series, I suspect I will feel like a badass tough girl, even if I don’t actually win anything.  I might make new friends whose running style is more like my own.

Cons:

I’ll usually be alone and by the end, there will be a lot of hours of training by myself.  I told all of my running buddies that I didn’t want to do races anymore.  I’m not sure I could actually run a whole marathon, especially one on a course that tough.  It will cost me at least $30 a month or more, plus the equipment costs (camelbak, heart rate monitor, shoes, bug spray).

What do you think I should do?  Run the distances on my own instead of doing the races and save the money?  Just go for it—spend the cash, get the cool race t-shirts and official timing, and not say too much about it to my running buddies (or go ahead and tell them because they’ve probably forgotten the “no races” thing)?  Skip it and be happy just knowing that I’ve already run a couple of half marathons?  Go for the beer, balloons, and cake (in other words, listen to the Blerch) because one race is in the woods in cold-as-hell-January and another one involves running up and down the side of a mountain repeatedly?  Run those races, hope to have an awesome time, enjoy the bragging rights of being that hardcore?

Advise me!  I’m starting to consider asking the Magic 8 Ball!

Wee Bit Busy

Yeeeehaw!  Here we go!  WTH was I thinking when I started a chocolate-making course and a processed sugar fast at the same time?  I’m sure y’all noticed the crazy in those concurrent decisions and were simply kind enough not to say anything about it.

It looks like the sugar fast will be nearly over by the time I actually have to work with chocolate.  Which is a huge relief, because I don’t think I could temper a batch of chocolate using any method and NOT EAT IT.  At least with my tempering machine, I can close the lid and ignore it most of the time.  Using traditional methods, I’ll have to play with it and stir it and smell it for an hour.  I’m only human.  Or humanoid.  Whatever. 

The sugar fast is going as easily as I could have hoped.  I’m still having some cravings, mostly in the evenings once I start to get tired.  I was frustrated today because I wanted an extra cup of coffee but I don’t have any half and half at work.  Normally I would toss a packet of hot chocolate and a pinch of cinnamon in the cup, but that’s no longer an option.  Luckily, I seem to be surviving the hardship.  Ahem.  I also made banana pudding from Paleo Comfort Foods  last night, so I will have a lovely dessert after dinner tonight. (Thanks again, Owl!)  I did substitute a 5-spice blend for the cinnamon, but I love bananas and 5-spice together.  Plus the anise in the spice blend makes it taste sweeter.  What?!  I’m doing what I’ve gotta do to get through the next three weeks without going bonkers.

The class looks like it will give us a lot of information in a fairly short time.  I truly wish I had the interwebz in my house now, but I’ll figure out a way to get this done.  I didn’t get through as much as I had hoped on Sunday at the library, but I’ve been sneaking in bits and pieces wherever I can.  I don’t want to give up my lunch time walks (I really need the break from my cubicle), but I’m committed now.  My first assignment is due on Friday and I have the research completed, but I still have to sit down and write the paper.  If anyone out there has a time-turner that I could borrow, feel free to email me!  I’m motley bells at gmail dot com.  I notice no one has volunteered to wash my dishes.  Too bad for you—if you help with my housework, you’re automatically invited to my chocolate tasting….

Higher Authority?

I received this rather long joke in an email recently.  It’s nice to know that someone agrees with me on the whole mowing issue!  Perhaps I should print this out and stick it in my neighbors'..........mailboxes.  Ahem.

God and Grass

I thought you gardeners would enjoy this conversation between God and St.Francis. It is hilarious because it is so true:

GOD:
Frank, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there on the planet? What happened to the dandelions, violets, milkweeds, and stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect, no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honey bees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colors by now. But, all I see are these green rectangles.

St. FRANCIS:
It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers 'weeds' and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.

GOD:
Grass? But, it's so boring. It's not colorful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds, and bees; only grubs and sod worms. It's sensitive to temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?

ST. FRANCIS:
Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.

GOD:
The spring rains and warm weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy.

ST. FRANCIS:
Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it-sometimes twice a week.

GOD:
They cut it? Do they then bale it like hay?

ST. FRANCIS:
Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.

GOD:
They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?

ST. FRANCIS:
No, Sir, just the opposite. They pay to throw it away.

GOD:
Now, let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so it will grow. And, when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?

ST. FRANCIS:
Yes, Sir.

GOD:
Hmm.  These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.

ST. FRANCIS:
You aren't going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it, so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.

GOD:
What nonsense. At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn, they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. It's a natural cycle of life.

ST. FRANCIS:
You better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away.

GOD:
No!? What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter to keep the soil moist and loose?

ST. FRANCIS:
After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something which they call mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.

GOD:
And where do they get this mulch?

ST. FRANCIS:
They cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch.

GOD:
Enough! I don't want to think about this anymore. St. Catherine, you're in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?

ST. CATHERINE:
'Dumb and Dumber', Lord. It's a story about....

GOD:
Never mind, I think I just heard the whole story from St. Francis.