Awareness, Free Choice, and Living a Life of Adventure While You Still Can

Today I fell prey to one of those Facebook chain posts that purports to be done to bring awareness to breast cancer. This one, which is the 2014 version of the "post the color of your bra" one from years past, was asking me to choose a silly, nonsensical sentence from a list of silly nonsensical sentences and post it without explanation, so that when my friends comment, they too would then have to pick one and post. I had commented on a friend's post that he had "decided to stop wearing underwear" and "tag" I was instructed to do the same or pick another silly item as my status message.

Here's the thing - I hate being told what to do. If you don't know that about me already, just ask my mother, my husband, my kids, my close friends. They will all confirm that the quickest way to get me to balk at doing something is to tell me that I have to. I am a big proponent of free thought and self-actualization, so I am not a very good candidate for these chain-style letters, emails, and social media. I truly have no qualms with ignoring such directives and I don't for a second think that if I don't follow through with them that I am being a "spoiled sport" or that something bad will befall me. In fact, I even somewhat relish being the "end of the line" for these types of things. Maybe that is the rebel in me; my mom would, of course, say that I just like to be contrary.

These types of social media shenanigans are one of those things that the cynic in me - oh yes, I am cynical, to a fault - finds to be pointless and even slightly offensive. I don't for a second see how posting a chain-style statement and sucking my friends into doing so as well can in any way promote breast cancer awareness or support the research needed to end a disease that so many have experienced themselves or through loved ones. Breast cancer, any kind of cancer, is not a game to play practical jokes with and to electronically sucker punch your friends with. Or maybe my mother is right (gasp) and I just like to be contrary. The paranoid me, of course, thinks that these chain posts are really just some tool designed by hackers to crack passwords. The realist in me though knows that there are much better ways to promote breast cancer awareness.

Maybe it is because we just got home from a fabulous adventure trip to Hawaii - I mean just got home in the sense that the bags are still in the hallway and my kids are still sleeping off the exhaustion - in which we did a night swim with Manta Rays, surfed, stood on a lava-covered road, hiked Diamond Head, and viewed the Milky Way, nebulas, and Saturn's rings from 9,300 feet above sea level. Maybe it is because we are coming up on the second anniversary of the death of someone who I admired because of the way she and her family chose to deal with her breast cancer. Whatever the cause, my thoughts upon getting sucked into this chain post immediately went to a true source of breast cancer awareness and so I choose not to repost the chain post, but to share this instead.

One day I walked into Trapeze School New York/DC and there was this wildly crazy, beautifully tattooed woman in my class that seemed so familiar to me. It was one of those out of place, out of time moments, like when you were a kid and saw your teacher in the grocery store. It took me a while but I finally pinned down that I knew her from when I worked at PBS. We shared classes a few more times and she was always a hoot to fly with, and then I didn't see her again for a long time. What I didn't know at the time was that outside of her TSNY classes she was living a true life of adventure and an even bigger challenge against breast cancer. When I did see her again she was in a wheelchair and it was her last trip to TSNY to watch her husband and two young daughters take up where she could no longer fly.

I am not going to tell you Trisha's story, because it is hers and her family's, and because it is so interesting and already so well documented on her website (http://creekmoreworld.com/) that I could never do it justice with anything I have to say about it. Spend some time on the site - there is the open and touching story of Trisha's brave fight with cancer and some truly amazing adventure travel blogging as well. Her family has continued traveling and blogging about their travels to honor her death.

Okay, so I guess, in a way, that silly chain post has given me a vehicle to bring awareness to breast cancer, just not in the way it intended. It also gave me a chance to remember and reflect on another's brave journey and to contemplate my own next adventure. I hope you all will choose to live a life of adventure while you still can. Live well, my friends, and enjoy your time on this earth.

Tears of a Clown

It is said that laughter is the best medicine, but there are some things that even laughter can not make well. The suicide death of Robin Williams is a cruel reminder to us all that life is fragile.

Although someone may appear to the casual friend or even a close loved one to be happy and fortunate and carefree, each of us battles our own demons. Those battles can be fierce and unrelenting and they can rise up against us in our darkest moments when we have little left to give. Sadly, sometimes those battles are lost.

We all do the best we can to make our way in this world, each of us with our own challenges, privations, and complications. And yet, the tears of a clown are just as salty as those of everyone else. Please be kind to one another - you never know what someone else may be suffering, even as they try so very hard to be a good friend, or to make a difference, or to make us laugh. 

Time Travel and the Trip Back

Time Travel and the Trip Back

Sometimes I find it really hard to get my head wrapped around how time keeps marching on. Most days I don't feel any different than I did in my younger days. Oh, there's the occasional morning that I wake up all achy and can hardly get out of bed because I have overdone it a bit at the gym or tried something new and suddenly discover that I have muscles in places I never really knew I had them. By usually, at least in my head, the passing of time is sort of irrelevant.

Then there are those moments that will jarringly snap me back and make me realize that time is not at a standstill and in fact it is whizzing by at lightening speed. Often this time travel involves birthdays - not mine of course, those are just a number to me, sort of like the ones on a scale - but those of say a now teenaged child (how the hell did that happen?!) or the anniversary of a death. It has been over nine years since my father died. In some ways it seems like yesterday; in others, like an eternity.

My dad was not a religious man, but he was a deeply spiritual man. He saw god and beauty in the trees and the birds, in the mountains and lakes. And in simple acts of kindness. He was a modern-day Frost, Audubon, Thoreau, Muir and Teddy Roosevelt, all rolled into one. He didn't need to walk into a church every weekend to prove his goodness. He proved that everyday to those who had the good fortunate to know him. He had nature to justify his existence and his purpose on this earth. And that was good enough for him. In many ways, he was timeless.

One of my favorite things about my dad was that when he went somewhere, anywhere, he never went and came back the same way.  I think that he did that because he saw beauty and goodness where most of us don't even bother to look. He always just enjoyed the ride and the view. I like to imagine that when he died he took an interesting trip back, to a peaceful place where dreams and eagles soar - a beautiful place that is worthy of the beautifulest of souls. And that he saw amazing things along the way.

On my first trip to Burning Man, I took with me my dad's ashes and the ashes of my dear friend Abby. I hoped that it would be a way for me to try to let go of some grief that I had been holding onto for way too long. The morning that I spread my dad's ashes at the temple was a spectacularly beautiful morning, as most are out on the playa. I wrote my message to my dad on the temple, scattered ashes, and then sat in the dust and cried, letting go of so much pain. It was like time was standing still and whizzing by at the same time.

At some point, as I sat there amongst the dust and ashes, I looked up and through tear-filled eyes I saw the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, standing in a purple velvet dress and hat. She looked to me like a time traveler of sorts. She smiled softly, walked over to me, knelt down, and put her arms around me. She held me while I wept some more. I don't know how long she stayed with me and at that point time was irrelevant anyway. We never spoke. She just held me while I let go of so very much that needed to go in my life. And when the right moment came, she knew it, and she stood and walked away in a different direction from which she had come.

The Yin and Yang of Motherhood

The Yin and Yang of Motherhood: All roads lead to happiness

Once again in my life, I find myself damn lucky. My pre-baby nine months were spent simply waiting. No morning sickness, no poking and prodding by a doctor, no tests, no weight gain, no cravings. Just waiting. It was somewhat ironic that, at the time we adopted our first child, the timeline from when your adoption dossier was submitted in China until you received your match of a child was about nine months. I can’t imagine bearing the five year plus ordeal that people do now waiting for their match to come – that is hard labor. So when my husband occasionally still asks if I want to go back one more time, which is usually prompted by a friend making the now long-awaited journey, my answer is no thank you. I no longer have the luxury of time, the extravagance of just waiting. 

I don’t really know if my experience was different from having a biological child – I have never given birth so I have no true means of comparison – but I can unequivocally say that the moment that tiny little Chinese baby was placed in my arms was the most beautiful moment of my life. Our first daughter was so very delicate and beautiful and helpless, and I was a mom for the first time, her mom. She was healthy, but because her time in this world so far had been spent in an orphanage she was developmentally nowhere near her almost nine months of age. That or perhaps she was merely scared to death having no idea who this strange creature was who looked nothing like her. She hardly moved at all, just blinking as she stared at me with eyes so black I felt like I could see her soul in them. Even then, her eyes seemed to be so full of time and wisdom; I have always said that she was born forty years old. She has proven that to me time and again. And yet that first time she looked at me, she seemed to look up with this simple question in her eyes, “Where have you been all my life?” It moved me like nothing before or since. 

The second time around was very different. That baby wanted nothing to do with me or her dad, but sometime within the first 24 hours she determined that he was in fact the best choice of the two evils that fate had presented her and she spent the next two weeks in China as his personal shadow. If that had been my first experience with motherhood, I'm not sure there would have been another. As it was, I sort of enjoyed the fact that it was him for a change who could not take a shower without someone wailing at the bathroom door. It certainly made that glass of wine somehow sweeter as I just sat back and watched the drama unfold. When we were back at home with her, though, I cried all day the first three days after he went back to work because that was all she did. I don’t really know how we made it through those days or even the coming few years, for that matter, which proved to be quite a challenge. She was the daredevil – the one I would find in the middle of the dining room table or pinning the dog against the floor or eating the 3-day old chicken nugget she had stashed in her carseat. And yet, that child has grown to steal my heart. I foresee her stealing lots of hearts before she is done. She is a charmer, she wears her heart on her sleeve, she knows what she likes, and she goes for it. Perhaps we have more in common than I originally thought. 

Those two girls are quite different, always have been, and yet they are closer than most sisters I know. They compliment, support, and love each other in truly amazing ways; they are clearly soul mates. They are yin and yang. They have grown into remarkable young ladies that I couldn't be more proud of.  I know that the different path to motherhood that I took brought together two people who were meant to be together and it likewise made me exactly what I was meant to be in life - their mom. Thank you Destiny. You nailed this one.

Based on Twitter followers, I am 0.079069767...% as cool as @NathanFillion (Actual results may vary)

— Tonda Phalen (@wrigleymanor) February 4, 2014

KITCHEN ART: Booze, Bacon, and Some Devilish Goodness

I have never before blogged about food. There are so many great food-related blogs out there already, I just refuse to compete. Besides, my random thoughts are the usual fodder for my writing practice and blog. But I do love food, and I especially love anything bacon, beer, whiskey or chocolate related, and as I often say "never say never." Then along comes something in my life that is quite inspiring on a level more than just something good to eat - a little booze, some bacon, and some devilish goodness - so how could I pass up on writing about that one! Besides, all the ladies at Bunco last night where I shared my newest kitchen creation loved this dish and wanted the recipe, so I thought others might enjoy it as well.

There is another reason I don't blog about food. To me, cooking is an art, not a science. I am a good cook but I am a terrible recipe writer as I usually do not follow recipes exactly (yes even my own), rarely actually measure anything, and often throw in a few extra somethin'-somethin's here and there as I taste and tweak what I have come up with. So as a food artist rather than scientist, it is a bit difficult to pass things along in the form of writing them down to share with others, even though writing is also a passion of mine. That being said, I have tried to pen this recipe as closely as I could to what actually happened yesterday in the kitchen - skipping over the part where I drank the rest of the bottle of beer used in the recipe as a chaser to my Catoctin Creek rye whiskey and Vosage Mo's Dark Chocolate Bacon Bar that I was enjoying during the downtime involved in this creation - so, please know that results may vary and more importantly I do encourage you to experiment a bit as well. Enjoy your own kitchen art!

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Deviled Egg and Beer-Candied Bacon Dip and Crustini 
For the Beer-Candied Bacon:
1 lb thick-cut, high quality bacon
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup dark beer, like Guinness (I used Sam Adam's Chocolate Bock; I have also seen this done with whiskey instead if you want to kick it up an extra notch!)

For the Deviled Egg:
1 dozen large eggs
2 tablespoons white vinegar
1 cup mayonnaise
2 tablespoon horseradish mustard (or other brown spicy mustard)
2 teaspoons Ras el Hanout (a Moroccan spice mix; see below for sources/alternatives)
1 teaspoon Sriracha hot sauce
1/4 c. chopped chives
Freshly ground salt and pepper, to taste
Paprika, for dusting at serving time 

For the Crustini:
2 baguettes
2 tablespoons Extra Virgin Olive Oil

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Combine brown sugar and beer in a small bowl, whisking well to form a thin syrup. Set aside. Line a rimmed baking sheet with aluminum foil. Place a wire cooling rack on top. Place the pieces of bacon on top of the rack, overlapping if necessary. Place in oven and cook for 10 minutes. Remove from oven and brush one side of the bacon with the beer syrup. Return to oven and cook for 10 minutes. Flip, and coat the other side with the syrup as well. Return to oven and cook for 10 minutes. Remove from oven, and repeat process another time or two more, until bacon is crispy and browned, and you’ve used all the glaze. Cool on wire rack for at least 1 hour before serving.

While bacon is baking, slice baguettes into 1/4 to 1/3 inch slices. Place on an ungreased cookie sheet in single layer. Drizzle olive oil over top. After bacon is out of the oven, reduce oven temperature to 325°. Bake crustini until crisp, approximately 15-20 minutes. Cool completely, then store in airtight container.

In a large saucepan, cover the eggs with water, add the vinegar and bring to a rapid boil. Cover the saucepan and remove it from the heat; let stand for 15 minutes. Drain the eggs and cool them under cold running water, shaking the pan vigorously to crack the shells. Let the eggs finish cooling in the water. Once the eggs have cooled, shell the eggs and tear them in half. Set aside half of each white and put the other half of the white and the entire yolk into a bowl. Coarsely chop the set-aside egg whites and set them aside yet again. In a food processor, add the remaining whites and yolks along with the mayonnaise, mustard, and spices and process until smooth. Scrape the mixture into a bowl and stir in the reserved chopped egg whites and chopped chives. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes to allow flavors to mix. When bacon is completely cooled, crumble or chop and stir into egg mixture. Taste again and add more salt and pepper if needed. Place into serving dish and sprinkle with paprika for appearance. Serve with crustinis.

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Here's a bonus tip for you - if you happen to have any left-overs of this dish after you serve it at an evening gathering as an appetizer, it also makes for a fun and delicious breakfast as well. I mean really, it is perfect for that as it has your bacon, eggs, and toast all in a fun bite-sized package!!! Although, honestly, you likely won't have leftovers, so go ahead and set some aside to enjoy the next morning, maybe with a Bloody Mary or other hair of the dog beverage of your choosing.

And finally, here's a little bit about Ras el Hanout, which happens to be one of my favorite spice blends. You may have never heard of it, but everyone should have this in their kitchen because it enhances the flavor of a vast variety of dishes from meat to eggs to soups and stews to grains and veges, and yes even cakes and cookies. Heck, I even love this stuff lightly sprinkled on pear slices. Just search Pinterest for "ras el hanout" and you will see that the opportunities for its use are endless! So what is it, you ask? Well, it is blend of spices used primarily in Moroccan cooking for which there is no one authentic recipe. And that is probably another reason I love it so - it's an art not a science! It almost always has varying amounts of the following: paprika, cumin, cinnamon, ginger, coriander, turmeric, pepper, cardamom, nutmeg, and cloves. Some brands also include saffron (which I do like), anise (which I don't like), sumac, rosebuds and bay leaf (to which I remain uncommitted either way) and a few other oddities. You can buy Ras el Hanout already mixed - just be sure to read the ingredients in case there is one or more spice that you know are objectionable to you - available at middle eastern grocery stores or at Williams-Sonoma at http://www.williams-sonoma.com/products/ras-el-hanout/ Personally, I really like the Williams-Sonoma blend and that is what I used when I created this recipe. If you are feeling really kitchen artsy, you can even make your own!!! Check out these two sites for good recipes for making it yourself and for more fascinating info on this awesome spice blend: http://www.kayotic.nl/blog/ras-el-hanout and http://thelunacafe.com/moroccan-ras-el-hanout/

Although this crazy creation is mine alone, I give special thanks to a couple of my favorite food blog sites for the inspiration to this dish:
http://www.the-girl-who-ate-everything.com
http://tideandthyme.com