*-not sure if this counts as a review per se, since i didn't follow the recipe so much as i used it for inspiration.
i had a package of bratwurst in the freezer that needed to be used, but i didn't want to break out the grill pan and i wasn't really in the mood for making beer brats. to the interwebz i went and found the recipe linked above. in finding the link to copy/paste it here, i realized that i inadvertently left out both the cayenne pepper and the dried oregano when i made this the other night. i printed the recipe while i was at work and somehow those 2 ingredients got left off the page. oops.
there were 5 bratwurst in the package, so i thawed and sliced all of them. i used 6 small-to-medium red potatoes that i scrubbed and diced, along with the 2 red bell peppers and the sweet onion specified in the recipe. i found some baby rainbow carrots at the farmers market, so i peeled, washed, and cut them to use instead of the zucchini. i have roasted garlic powder instead of regular garlic powder because i wasn't paying close attention to the label when i bought it, but this is a good problem to have, imo.
i am still getting accustomed to how my oven works, so i let this bake at 400 degrees for 20 minutes, stirred everything around a bit, and let it continue baking for another 25 minutes or so until the potatoes and carrots i tested were tender. upon further review, i discovered that some of the potatoes were still a bit on the firm side, but not in an inedible way. i may freeze some of this to see how it holds up.
if/when i try it again, i'll probably use a different kind of sausage. maybe sweet potatoes or butternut squash instead of red or russet potatoes. probably carrots again, or maybe parsnips? we'll see.
Saturday, August 19, 2017
Monday, August 07, 2017
on: saying "no" to yourself
we hear a lot about self-care. about putting yourself first. about treating yourself. about saying "yes" to yourself and the things that make you happy or bring you peace or whatever. but what about saying "no?"
i had some downtime yesterday between outings and decided to go home, have some lunch, do a bit of meal prep, maybe take a nap, and maybe clean my apartment before heading back out. the cleaning part was really weighing on me because i'd had to give myself permission to skip everything domestic last weekend (except for laundry and dishes) because i was way too busy and i just didn't have it in me to do anything else. even that was a struggle. i wish i'd kept count of how many times i said something like "ugh, i really need to vacuum" or "i wonder if i can pay someone just to clean my bathroom" last weekend. it was a struggle but since i'd said "yes" to doing all of the social things, i knew something had to give.
back to yesterday. i had my lunch and did my meal prep and was all set to maybe vacuum before taking a nap, but suddenly my body was like "nope." instead, i read for a little bit and then dozed off for, i dunno, maybe 30 minutes tops? i woke up and immediately knew something was off. i had the beginnings of a headache and i felt a bit queasy, which i was willing to chalk up to maybe drinking too much too quickly on a relatively empty stomach, but as i got out of bed, i realized that i was in actual physical pain. my apartment's not huge and yet walking from my bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen felt like a chore. this, of course, did not bode well for the last event on my calendar, but i figured i still had time to at least start cleaning up before heading out. i took an aleve, drank some water and some ginger ale, and decided that i could at least vacuum the apartment before i left and worry about the rest of the cleaning when i got back that evening.
by the time i finished vacuuming, though, i still wasn't feeling quite right. the queasiness had eased up a bit but was still lurking, as was the headache - which made me think that maybe a migraine was coming - and moving around my apartment still left me feeling as though i was literally dragging myself around.
i gave myself 10 minutes to sit back down, figuring that i could still get dressed and head over to my destination. i was only going ~5 blocks from home, so i decided that if things got really bad, i could just leave the event and head back home. on foot, of course, because the cta doesn't want me to have nice things like service on the #11 or the #37 on weekends or, as was announced this afternoon, no service on the #11 at all come september.
i was all set to say "yes" because i was going to a reading of a new/in-progress play, which is one of my favorite ways to enjoy the theater. also the playwright in question has written other works that i've enjoyed, and based on the synopsis i'd read, this production would also be right up my alley. oh, and it was free. all of the boxes were checked for a "yes."
and yet i had to say "no." the thought of getting dressed and walking to the venue and back was almost enough to make me want to cry. i was that physically tired. it's like the nap did nothing. the headache and queasiness were pretty much gone at that point (hooray for no migraine!), but i knew the best thing for me would be to curl up in bed with a book and relax, so i did.
that really fucking annoying voice in my head wouldn't shut up about the apartment cleaning, though. i think i read for almost 2 hours and the whole time, that tiny voice was all "what about the bathroom? weren't you going to swiffer the kitchen? what about the counters?" i finally gave in later in the evening and got up to clean the bathroom. i had to work in stages and take water breaks and rest between each task because my body was still in full "what is this whole moving around thing NOPE NOPE NOPE" mode, but it got done. then i made a cup of tea and ate the english toffee brownie i'd bought at the farmers market on saturday (note to self: go back and buy more of those brownies) and caught up on a few emails and other things online until i was ready to officially call it a night...after i swiffered the kitchen as my last productive act.
i felt all of the guilt about saying "no" to my previous plans. i'm almost positive that i would've loved the reading, and that i would've made it home without incident, and obviously i was just exaggerating about how tired i was and how unwell i felt and i shouldn't be so lazy. (did i mention that the annoying voice in my head is really fucking annoying? because it is.)
i woke up this morning feeling much improved over yesterday, which was good because i absolutely needed to be functional at work today. it's a short work week for me (o hai breast mri on friday! i couldn't forget about you if i tried!) and i'm on deadline, so being able to focus and get my work done is kind of a bigger deal than usual.
would that have been possible if i'd pushed myself to go out last night? knowing me, i would've found a way to power through today somehow, but i'm pretty sure i would've still felt like shit and not just in a "ugh mondays could you not?" kind of way.
i had some downtime yesterday between outings and decided to go home, have some lunch, do a bit of meal prep, maybe take a nap, and maybe clean my apartment before heading back out. the cleaning part was really weighing on me because i'd had to give myself permission to skip everything domestic last weekend (except for laundry and dishes) because i was way too busy and i just didn't have it in me to do anything else. even that was a struggle. i wish i'd kept count of how many times i said something like "ugh, i really need to vacuum" or "i wonder if i can pay someone just to clean my bathroom" last weekend. it was a struggle but since i'd said "yes" to doing all of the social things, i knew something had to give.
back to yesterday. i had my lunch and did my meal prep and was all set to maybe vacuum before taking a nap, but suddenly my body was like "nope." instead, i read for a little bit and then dozed off for, i dunno, maybe 30 minutes tops? i woke up and immediately knew something was off. i had the beginnings of a headache and i felt a bit queasy, which i was willing to chalk up to maybe drinking too much too quickly on a relatively empty stomach, but as i got out of bed, i realized that i was in actual physical pain. my apartment's not huge and yet walking from my bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen felt like a chore. this, of course, did not bode well for the last event on my calendar, but i figured i still had time to at least start cleaning up before heading out. i took an aleve, drank some water and some ginger ale, and decided that i could at least vacuum the apartment before i left and worry about the rest of the cleaning when i got back that evening.
by the time i finished vacuuming, though, i still wasn't feeling quite right. the queasiness had eased up a bit but was still lurking, as was the headache - which made me think that maybe a migraine was coming - and moving around my apartment still left me feeling as though i was literally dragging myself around.
i gave myself 10 minutes to sit back down, figuring that i could still get dressed and head over to my destination. i was only going ~5 blocks from home, so i decided that if things got really bad, i could just leave the event and head back home. on foot, of course, because the cta doesn't want me to have nice things like service on the #11 or the #37 on weekends or, as was announced this afternoon, no service on the #11 at all come september.
i was all set to say "yes" because i was going to a reading of a new/in-progress play, which is one of my favorite ways to enjoy the theater. also the playwright in question has written other works that i've enjoyed, and based on the synopsis i'd read, this production would also be right up my alley. oh, and it was free. all of the boxes were checked for a "yes."
and yet i had to say "no." the thought of getting dressed and walking to the venue and back was almost enough to make me want to cry. i was that physically tired. it's like the nap did nothing. the headache and queasiness were pretty much gone at that point (hooray for no migraine!), but i knew the best thing for me would be to curl up in bed with a book and relax, so i did.
that really fucking annoying voice in my head wouldn't shut up about the apartment cleaning, though. i think i read for almost 2 hours and the whole time, that tiny voice was all "what about the bathroom? weren't you going to swiffer the kitchen? what about the counters?" i finally gave in later in the evening and got up to clean the bathroom. i had to work in stages and take water breaks and rest between each task because my body was still in full "what is this whole moving around thing NOPE NOPE NOPE" mode, but it got done. then i made a cup of tea and ate the english toffee brownie i'd bought at the farmers market on saturday (note to self: go back and buy more of those brownies) and caught up on a few emails and other things online until i was ready to officially call it a night...after i swiffered the kitchen as my last productive act.
i felt all of the guilt about saying "no" to my previous plans. i'm almost positive that i would've loved the reading, and that i would've made it home without incident, and obviously i was just exaggerating about how tired i was and how unwell i felt and i shouldn't be so lazy. (did i mention that the annoying voice in my head is really fucking annoying? because it is.)
i woke up this morning feeling much improved over yesterday, which was good because i absolutely needed to be functional at work today. it's a short work week for me (o hai breast mri on friday! i couldn't forget about you if i tried!) and i'm on deadline, so being able to focus and get my work done is kind of a bigger deal than usual.
would that have been possible if i'd pushed myself to go out last night? knowing me, i would've found a way to power through today somehow, but i'm pretty sure i would've still felt like shit and not just in a "ugh mondays could you not?" kind of way.
Tuesday, August 01, 2017
so this is august...
today is august 1st.
i am 10 days away from having an mri exam on my breasts. please don't panic (because i'm doing enough of that for all of us, trust me) - i have not detected anything amiss, nor have my doctors, but given my family history and risk factors, we all want to err on the side of caution. also i want to do it while i still have employer-provided insurance because god only knows what's going to happen with that.
after i made the appointment for the exam, i called quasi-landlord to ask if i could crash with her the night before so she could drive me to the hospital, because i realized that worry about the logistics wasn't something i really wanted to deal with. i also asked the staff to prescribe some sort of anti-anxiety meds for the exam because we all know my hospital phobia is real as fuck and no one wants me freaking the fuck out. also the exam is supposed to take 45 minutes (heh) and there's no way i'm going to be calm and still for that long in that setting. q-l says we can go have breakfast afterwards because she knows i won't be hungry beforehand and the meds will have me loopy enough to need something on my stomach.
let's talk about how proud i am of myself for 1) remembering to make the appointment in the first place and 2) reaching out to q-l for help. y'all know how forgetful i can be. i can also be stubborn as hell and feel as though i can do everything by my damn self and then i'm wondering why i'm so fucking tired and anxious and depressed. sometimes you gotta outsource some shit.
so, yeah. i haven't said much about the exam even though it's been on my calendar for damn near a month. i am actively trying (and failing) to panic as the date gets closer. i am super duper vigilant about breast self-exams and i've already had 2 mammograms this year, thanks to the first set of results being inconclusive. that was fun, let me tell you. i know in my heart of hearts that there is nothing wrong and that there should be no surprises when the exam results come back. this is not just me being ridiculously optimistic. i really do believe this.
and yet, my brain works in mysterious ways and sometimes it likes to overthink things and panic when there is no logical reason to do so. it's a blast. if, heaven forbid, something goes wrong, i know that i can pull together some semblance of a plan and go forward after i have my initial "omg wtf is even happening right now" breakdown. that's what i do. i freak out for a minute (hour, day, month, whatever) and then i get back to work. sometimes, though, my brain doesn't allow me to work through things in a sensible way and i wake up in the middle of the night unable to breathe because "what if they find something?" i am a goddamn ray of sunshine in those moments.
this month is also momentous for me because james would have been 55 this year and that is totally and completely fucking with me. sometimes i forget that he was only 46 when he died. when i'm really committed to wallowing in self-pity, i rage about how fucking unfair it is that he died so goddamn young and how dare he be taken from me and carol and everyone else who loved him when it's so obvious that we still need(ed) him around? if i allow myself to be honest outside of my therapy sessions, i can acknowledge how selfish i'm being and how i obviously had no control over when/how my brother was going to die and of course none of it is my fault. then i start feeling like a big bay because i miss him so much still that, again, if i allow myself to be open and honest about it, it physically feels like a part of me is missing. like there's a hole in my chest that can't be repaired. it stinks. i don't like it.
i was all set to get a tattoo (both daddy and james had the same first and middle initials, which made my decision easier) on what would've been on james' 55th birthday this year, until i realized it's the day before my friends' wedding. the tattoo will happen before the year is out, though. it's the only remaining item on my original "get your shit together" list. you may recall that the other items on the list were paying off my eviction, having fibroid surgery, and moving into my own place. all of those boxes have been checked and unpacked. i will somehow power through my dislike of needles and get this tattoo on at least one area of my body.
james would have been 55 and lori would have been 56 this year. did i mention how much this sucks? because it really does. of course their birthdays are a day apart because god in his infinite wisdom wanted to make sure that i could suffer in concentrated chunks of time vs. spreading that shit out. i'm ok with that part, actually. i tried explaining this to my therapist during my annual february/march doldrums and i'm sure she thought i was protesting too much at first, but when i broke down the schedule of dates and how/why they have such an impact on me, i think she came around.
my mri exam is on lori's birthday, which is the day before james' birthday. my friends' wedding is two days after the mri exam. i didn't have the birthdays in mind when i scheduled the exam but i was thinking of the wedding, since i was already taking that monday off as a recovery day (because drinking), so i figured i might as well get an extra long weekend out of it.
with that said, my current approach to this month is to make it to this wedding without completely losing my shit. if i survive the next, oh, 2 weeks or so, then i should be able to get through the rest of august relatively unscathed. hopefully. *knocks on wood* *crosses fingers* *prays to saints* *lights candles*
i am 10 days away from having an mri exam on my breasts. please don't panic (because i'm doing enough of that for all of us, trust me) - i have not detected anything amiss, nor have my doctors, but given my family history and risk factors, we all want to err on the side of caution. also i want to do it while i still have employer-provided insurance because god only knows what's going to happen with that.
after i made the appointment for the exam, i called quasi-landlord to ask if i could crash with her the night before so she could drive me to the hospital, because i realized that worry about the logistics wasn't something i really wanted to deal with. i also asked the staff to prescribe some sort of anti-anxiety meds for the exam because we all know my hospital phobia is real as fuck and no one wants me freaking the fuck out. also the exam is supposed to take 45 minutes (heh) and there's no way i'm going to be calm and still for that long in that setting. q-l says we can go have breakfast afterwards because she knows i won't be hungry beforehand and the meds will have me loopy enough to need something on my stomach.
let's talk about how proud i am of myself for 1) remembering to make the appointment in the first place and 2) reaching out to q-l for help. y'all know how forgetful i can be. i can also be stubborn as hell and feel as though i can do everything by my damn self and then i'm wondering why i'm so fucking tired and anxious and depressed. sometimes you gotta outsource some shit.
so, yeah. i haven't said much about the exam even though it's been on my calendar for damn near a month. i am actively trying (and failing) to panic as the date gets closer. i am super duper vigilant about breast self-exams and i've already had 2 mammograms this year, thanks to the first set of results being inconclusive. that was fun, let me tell you. i know in my heart of hearts that there is nothing wrong and that there should be no surprises when the exam results come back. this is not just me being ridiculously optimistic. i really do believe this.
and yet, my brain works in mysterious ways and sometimes it likes to overthink things and panic when there is no logical reason to do so. it's a blast. if, heaven forbid, something goes wrong, i know that i can pull together some semblance of a plan and go forward after i have my initial "omg wtf is even happening right now" breakdown. that's what i do. i freak out for a minute (hour, day, month, whatever) and then i get back to work. sometimes, though, my brain doesn't allow me to work through things in a sensible way and i wake up in the middle of the night unable to breathe because "what if they find something?" i am a goddamn ray of sunshine in those moments.
this month is also momentous for me because james would have been 55 this year and that is totally and completely fucking with me. sometimes i forget that he was only 46 when he died. when i'm really committed to wallowing in self-pity, i rage about how fucking unfair it is that he died so goddamn young and how dare he be taken from me and carol and everyone else who loved him when it's so obvious that we still need(ed) him around? if i allow myself to be honest outside of my therapy sessions, i can acknowledge how selfish i'm being and how i obviously had no control over when/how my brother was going to die and of course none of it is my fault. then i start feeling like a big bay because i miss him so much still that, again, if i allow myself to be open and honest about it, it physically feels like a part of me is missing. like there's a hole in my chest that can't be repaired. it stinks. i don't like it.
i was all set to get a tattoo (both daddy and james had the same first and middle initials, which made my decision easier) on what would've been on james' 55th birthday this year, until i realized it's the day before my friends' wedding. the tattoo will happen before the year is out, though. it's the only remaining item on my original "get your shit together" list. you may recall that the other items on the list were paying off my eviction, having fibroid surgery, and moving into my own place. all of those boxes have been checked and unpacked. i will somehow power through my dislike of needles and get this tattoo on at least one area of my body.
james would have been 55 and lori would have been 56 this year. did i mention how much this sucks? because it really does. of course their birthdays are a day apart because god in his infinite wisdom wanted to make sure that i could suffer in concentrated chunks of time vs. spreading that shit out. i'm ok with that part, actually. i tried explaining this to my therapist during my annual february/march doldrums and i'm sure she thought i was protesting too much at first, but when i broke down the schedule of dates and how/why they have such an impact on me, i think she came around.
my mri exam is on lori's birthday, which is the day before james' birthday. my friends' wedding is two days after the mri exam. i didn't have the birthdays in mind when i scheduled the exam but i was thinking of the wedding, since i was already taking that monday off as a recovery day (because drinking), so i figured i might as well get an extra long weekend out of it.
with that said, my current approach to this month is to make it to this wedding without completely losing my shit. if i survive the next, oh, 2 weeks or so, then i should be able to get through the rest of august relatively unscathed. hopefully. *knocks on wood* *crosses fingers* *prays to saints* *lights candles*
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