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Random Fun

February 14th, 2012 LeeAnn

There is a trend going around right now, among bloggers, which involves having to list random things about yourself and answer questions. You are then supposed to tag other bloggers so that they have to do the same thing. The one that I have gotten tagged with most often involves listing eleven things about yourself and then tagging eleven friends.

I have never been one to pass on chain letters or emails. Never.

I don’t mind providing the information myself (whether it be a recipe, or a dollar, or whatever), but I will not ask however many of my friends to do the same thing. Call it a character flaw of mine; it makes me very uncomfortable.

So, to those who have tagged me, I apologize for being a scrooge. I am not going to comply with the rules. In an attempt to be somewhat of a good sport, I will list eleven completely random things about myself.

1. The weirdest thing ever said to me was during the summer of my 18th birthday, at a cocktail party at my grandparents’ home.  I was in the midst of talking to someone when a lady came up to me, grasped my hand and said (in a very dramatic voice), “Oh my. You must be careful. You have very passionate nostrils.” Seriously. I can’t tell you how many times I have thought of that and cursed my young self for not going after her and asking her what in the devil that meant.

2. Apparently, I look like a lot of people. I often get the following comments: “You look very familiar to me.” “Do you have a sister?” (I don’t.) “We have met before.” (We haven’t.) At Christmas time, I was shopping for last-minute gifts and was in Ulta, in Savannah. The checkout lady said to me, “Do you have a twin?” I told her that I did not, and then she said, “Well I had a woman in here today who looks exactly like you and she said she has a twin.” Given that I am six feet tall, I said “Really?  Well she couldn’t have been as tall as I am.” “She was,” said the lady, “just as tall as you and looks exactly like you – and she has an identical twin.” So apparently, there are THREE six feet tall, reddish-brown hair with freckles, forty-something year-old women walking around Savannah, Georgia. Anyone seen either of the other two??

3. When I was a relatively new lawyer in Philadelphia, I had a judge threaten to throw me and my client in jail. My client, by the way, was a BANK. Oh, and the courtroom was PACKED. That may have been the moment that I decided that I no longer wanted to be a litigator.

4. I don’t like to be very far from my mama.

5. When I was young (like two years old), I had this weird ability to say numbers. My mom says that they discovered it one night when they were practicing numbers with my older brother and I was in the room, impishly jumping up and down on the bed. They would ask “what is seven comma zero four zero comma three zero two” and I would answer without hesitation, “seven million forty-thousand three hundred and two.” And then I would laugh somewhat maniacally. My incredibly superstitious grandmother was apparently very close to summoning an exorcist for me. Some people have useful skills….

6. The textures of certain foods bother me. Oysters are big here in the South. I can think of them only as the equivalent of congealed snot.

7. I have zero patience. ZERO. And it started very young in me. When I was about four, I came in from playing outside and my mom was on the phone. I wanted a drink of water and she told me that she would get it when she was done talking. I walked over to the flower bowl, plucked out the crocuses and drank the water. You better believe that got her off the phone fast.

8. I bit people when I was a child.

9. The first thing that happened to me when visiting Niagara Falls was that I wet my pants.

10. I am a font of music trivia. For some reason, that information remains with me; when it comes to the important stuff (like the LAW, my profession), my mind is like a sieve.

11. I cannot understand a person who speaks with any type of accent. I blame it on the fact that I took Latin, an unspoken language, for six years. It makes it very difficult for me to (a) get my nails done, (b) know the specials at our local Mexican restaurant, or (c) really understand what half of the male lawyers in Savannah are trying to tell me.

Happy Tuesday!

 

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The Incredible Souls of Animals

February 10th, 2012 LeeAnn

One of my dearest friends recently gave me a book called The Souls of Animals, by Gary Kowalski.

My guess is that we all define “soul” a little differently. To me, it is one’s essence; it is what makes someone who he/she is (whether that someone is human or animal).  Mr. Kowalski states, in discussing what “soul” means to him,  that “[he is] concerned less with raw brain power, memory, and learning ability than [he is] with more subtle facets of intelligence such as empathy, artistry, and imagination.”

I consider myself fortunate that I have never questioned whether animals have souls; I have always known that they do. When I have looked into the eyes of the animals that I have been fortunate to share my life with, I can see their souls. Is it intelligence? Yes, but also a kindness, an understanding, a gentleness, and love.

Within the past year, I have used my strong belief in the souls of animals to help me in a situation that has always caused me great distress. I have an extremely hard time seeing animals dead in the road. I have a tendency to wonder what their last hours were like – if they were in pain, if they were afraid, if their family misses them, etc. Unfortunately, the road that I take to yoga every morning (at 5:30 a.m.) often contains an animal that has been hit and killed the previous night.

One such day, a number of months ago, I arrived at yoga fighting off tears and carrying with me the scene from the road. As we began our practice that day, our yoga instructor asked us to dedicate our practice to someone or something of significance to us. Without a thought, I dedicated my practice to the soul of the deceased cat that I had just seen. It was one of the most amazing practices that I have had to date – one in which I was completely present and on my mat. When I see a struck animal on the way to yoga now, I begin my practice with a dedication to their soul. It brings a genuine feeling of peace to me.

In The Souls of Animals, Mr. Kowalski shows the readers the capacity of animals to show emotion and empathy, reasoning, artistry, spirituality and other emotions or skills that many have assumed are uniquely human qualities. I loved reading every page of this book.

Koko, the gorilla who communicates using sign language, is an incredible example of all of the above qualities and more.

Apparently a number of years ago, Koko was asked what she wanted for her birthday, and she answered, in sign language, that she wanted a kitten. Koko was presented with a litter of rescued kittens, whom she handled very gently. Koko chose a grey kitten and named her “All Ball.” Koko tenderly carried All Ball around and even tried to nurse her as if she were a baby gorilla. When All Ball playfully bit Koko, Koko’s reactions were to sign “dirty” and “toilet”, which were apparently her way to express disapproval.

Koko was always kind and gentle to All Ball and would repeatedly sign to her trainer, “soft/good/cat.”

One evening All Ball got out of the protected area and was killed by a car. Koko was told about the accident and erupted into high-pitched sobs. For some time after the loss, Koko cried whenever cats were mentioned. (As an aside, Koko is now in her forties and has several kittens as companions. You can read about her at Koko’s World.)

Elephants are also very expressive in mourning the death of loved ones.  For one of the most moving videos that I have seen on this subject, see my post entitled My Love Affair with Elephants and English Bulldogs.

I have seen my pets mourn when we have lost one of our own. It is very discernible. Are they reading our emotions and reacting to those? I am sure in part that this is true, but their behavior goes further and leaves in me no doubt as to their grief.

Mr. Kowalski introduces us to Siri, the fourteen-year old, 8,400 pound Asian elephant, who was observed drawing lines using sticks and stones in the dust of her cage at the Syracuse Zoo. Her keeper gave her pads of paper and charcoal, and Siri drew pictures. Her drawings were sent to an art history professor at Syracuse University, who analyzed the drawings without knowing who the artist was. He remarked, “[t]hese drawings are very lyrical, very, very beautiful. … They are so positive and affirmative and tense, the energy is so compact and controlled, it’s just incredible.”

While The Souls of Animals is a wonderful reminder of how incredible the animals are with whom we share our planet, there is also a bittersweet note. We do not always treat them properly and we often operate from an assumption of superiority. As entire species near extinction, we must make changes.

On a personal note, I have struggled with how I can help. More and more, I recognize that my passion for animals is one of the strongest forces in my life. While animal rescue organizations have always been my choice for financial contributions, I have hesitated in becoming an active participant. I have hidden behind fears such as “I don’t want to know the cruelty that exists” and “I can’t take them all home.”

The Souls of Animals just may have been the breaking point for me. The day after finishing this book, I stopped by the humane society on the way into work and completed a volunteer application. A small step, but a step….

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Three Bean Chili with Chive-Flecked Cornmeal Dumplings

February 7th, 2012 LeeAnn

Monday was cold and dreary in Savannah – and thus perfect soup weather. I tried this chili recipe from Fresh from the Vegetarian Slow Cooker by Robin Robertson.

The ingredients:

Chili

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 large sweet onion, chopped

1/2 small green bell pepper; seeded and chopped (I used the whole pepper)

2 garlic cloves, minced

3 tablespoons tomato paste

1 tablespoon chili powder, or more to taste (I used about 1 1/2 tablespoons)

One 28 ounce can crushed tomatoes

One 15.5 ounce can black beans, drained and rinsed

One 15.5 ounce can pinto beans, drained and rinsed

One 15.5 ounce can kidney beans, drained and rinsed

1 1/2 cups water (I used vegetable broth)

1 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

(I added Texas Pete and about 1/4 teaspoon cayenne)

Dumplings

2/3 cup all-purpose flour

1/3 cup yellow cornmeal

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon minced fresh chives

1/8 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup fresh or thawed frozen corn kernels (I used canned and then put the remainder into the chili)

1/2 cup milk or soy milk (I used almond milk)

2 tablespoons olive oil

As I was chopping the onion, my faithful helper was waiting patiently behind me.

For the chili, saute the onion, bell pepper and garlic in oil over medium heat until softened, about five minutes. Stir in the tomato paste and chili powder and cook a little longer – 30 seconds to a minute.

Transfer the mixture to the crockpot (4 – 6 quart) and add the tomatoes, beans and water (broth).  Season with salt and pepper, cover and cook on low for 6 – 8 hours.

When you are 45 – 60 minutes from eating, make the dumplings by combining the flour, cornmeal, baking powder, chives and salt.  Stir in the corn, milk and oil, just until combined.

Drop the batter by spoonful onto the hot chili and turn the crockpot up to high. Cover and cook for 30 – 40 minutes (mine took a little longer), until the dumplings are cooked through.

I served the chili with shredded cheese, fresh green onions and light sour cream.

This was a very good meal which I will make again.  I like a chili with a strong tomato taste, which this had, and the three beans made it a great source of protein.

Enjoy!

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Breaking Through

February 3rd, 2012 LeeAnn

Last weekend I attended a “BreakThrough Weekend” at my yoga studio (Savannah Power Yoga, or “SPY”).  The weekend was led by Mark White, who is a nationally renowned yoga teacher and speaker. We started Friday night and went through Sunday. Our time was divided between asana (the physical practice), meditation and inquiry.

I had intended to blog immediately about the weekend and take you through the days with me. I found myself unable to coherently explain what happened. One of the reasons was due to exhaustion – physical and mental. Even more than that, though, is that it has been a bit of a struggle for me to get my own arms around the weekend, much less explain it to someone else.

The easiest part to describe is the asana portion of the weekend. That can pretty much be reduced to two words (and I apologize if the language is offensive to anyone): HOLY and CRAP.

We had a DJ yoga party on Friday night. After about 75 minutes of that practice, I thought to myself that the rest of the weekend was going to be a cake walk in comparison. Oh, so wrong was I.

The practice on Saturday was for three hours. That is one hundred and eighty minutes. And it was consecutive. We held poses for so long that I swear I could see the hair grow back on my legs.  Mark led us through the practices with enthusiasm and expertise, focusing on our alignment, which was very helpful.

Not to give you too much information, but I have never sweat more in my life. The room was, of course, heated. While there were only twenty of us, we were lined up close to each other. I was getting heat from the heating system, my own body, plus the nineteen bodies in close proximity to me. Literally, my towel was sweating – water was running off of it. At one point, it looked like I had a moat of water surrounding me on my mat.

In case you think I am overstating this, glance at the below before and after pictures and the difference in the color of my clothing.

BEFORE

AFTER

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I do not think I am easily beaten when it comes to a physical activity. I have participated in sports all of my life. I played competitive tennis. I compete in running races.  I have done triathlons. I do Bikram yoga.

This practice kicked my asana (yoga humor).

The crazy thing? I loved it. (Admittedly, I didn’t gain that perspective until after it was over. During it, I kind of thought about punching Mark a few times.)

The meditation portion of the weekend was challenging for me. I had never meditated before. Actually, I am not certain that I have yet, but I did try. Mark coached us through the meditation, taking our focus to different aspects of our bodies. The first day, my foot fell asleep and my knee hurt which meant that my thoughts were along the lines of, “ok, the honey is oozing through my body (Mark’s imagery) … oh my gosh, my foot is going to fall off my body … crap, back to the honey … I think I hurt my knee at the DJ yoga party … oh no, where is the honey now??? ….”

Prior to meditation on the second day, Mark told us (thank goodness) that if we needed to move our position, it was ok to do so. This bit of advice helped me tremendously and I was able to experience a few moments of calm – enough to intrigue me to keep trying this.

Then there was the inquiry.

And this is the difficult portion for me to explain. To incredibly over simplify it, we had very intense discussions about life. What was shared was at times very raw, and very personal. I feel very protective of this time spent together and do not want to cheapen it by trying to describe it.

I can, however, talk about the effect it had on me. The inquiry portion took me through just about every emotion possible.

I got annoyed at myself several times. I reminded myself of the little kid on the car trip asking repeatedly, “are we there yet?” “Are we there yet?” I fought this constant dialogue with myself along the lines of, “is that my break through?” “Wait, was that a break through there?” “No, this one is my break through.” “Here we go, I am going to have a break through NOW.”

It may be obvious, but I don’t have a lot of patience. I was looking for change so huge that I would emerge from the weekend a different person. In retrospect, and seeing that statement in print, I realize how silly that expectation was.

Instead, it is helpful for me to see my resistance (to change, to sharing, to exposing myself, to growing) and my preconceived notions (no one wants to hear my thoughts, people are mean, judgements) as brick walls surrounding me. In the breakthrough weekend, I pushed some of the bricks out of the wall so that there is light shining through now. Are the walls gone? Heck no, but they are weakened.

And I left the weekend with some new tools to continue to push the bricks out.

I have one final thought. The cost of the weekend was, in my opinion, minimal compared to the return. I am so grateful that there are people like Mark White and Kate Taylor (the owner of SPY), and each member of their respective teams, who are not doing what they do for the money, but who are committed to enriching lives.  I urge all of you to seek out those people in your community – and spend some time with them. It is a powerful experience.

Namaste.

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A Day in the Life of a Vegetarian

January 31st, 2012 LeeAnn

There are  many healthy living bloggers who daily document what they eat. I love to surf those sites at night, looking for new ideas for dinner. I could never blog consistently about my own daily diet as the amount of repetition is extremely high.

However, I often get questions, being a vegetarian, about what and how much I eat. Thus, I thought it might be interesting to show my meals for one day.

I typically start each day with a vigorous power yoga practice, followed by a four to six-mile run. This exercise starts my day off with a feeling of accomplishment, and it also gives me some freedom to eat well.

As I explained in a previous post (Wired and Tired), I recently met with a nutritionist to help with my diet. My concerns included my inability to sleep well, and my resultant constant fatigue. She quickly realized that I had two basic problems: (i) I was not getting enough protein, and (ii) I was getting too much sugar (hello Kashi cereals). With her recommendation, I have made rice protein powder a permanent addition to my breakfast, and have set aside the cold cereals and fruity (high sugar) yogurt.

My breakfast now consists of oatmeal mixed with a tablespoon each of: rice protein powder, chia seeds, ground flaxseed, my favorite peanut butter (see Oprah’s and My Favorite Things), and pumpkin butter. I usually drink a big glass of water with my breakfast, along with a cup of coffee in my bulldog mug. It may not be a pretty meal, but it is delicious and healthy. It is also very satisfying, which I attribute in large part to the amount of protein.

I am a firm believer in snacks. I typically carry one with me to work, to eat about an hour and a half before lunch. I make much smarter decisions for lunch when I am not starving. My choice today was a Kombucha and a small handful of almonds.

I ate lunch with a girlfriend at my favorite restaurant for lunch in Savannah, Kayak Cafe. I love their Vegetarian Salad. The salad has mixed greens, tabouli, hummus, grilled pita points, feta cheese, kalamata olives and a side of balsamic vinaigrette. It is always fresh and delicious.

After coming home to work this afternoon (and spend time with my sweet geriatric bulldog Gracie), I had a piece of homemade banana bread for an afternoon snack, made from the Healthy Paula Deen Banana Bread recipe.

I tried a new recipe tonight for black bean and chipotle enchiladas (found at Elly Says Opa!).  The meal was delicious and something I will definitely make again. My meat-eating husband loved it too – and could easily have added some grilled chicken on the side. 

Finally, about an hour before I went to bed, I ate this:

A delicious and satisfying day of eating!

 

 
 

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Wynonna is Crying

January 26th, 2012 LeeAnn

Eighteen years ago, my niece Samantha Kay was born.

I was twenty-six and I had probably spent less than a total of five hours around babies. I never baby-sat. I was always too busy playing sports.

And then on January 26, 1994, my life forever changed.

I was Sam’s first baby-sitter. Thanks to me, her mom and dad had their first night out after having a baby. They went to see Dumb and Dumber. You have to know my brother, but that is rather appropriate (no offense to my sister-in-law – but you married him).

At that stage in my life, I was a new lawyer, living and practicing in Philadelphia. I had made it straight through Princeton and law school, found a job right away and was on my way to becoming a Philadelphia lawyer. I had worked hard to get where I was in life and considered myself fairly tough and capable.

And then came Samantha. That first night with her was a little terrifying challenging. Who knew that babies couldn’t hold their heads up on their own? And what was with this regurgitating ninety percent of what she ate? I really was concerned that her head was going to fall off or she was going to starve to death on my watch.

Nevertheless, we made it through the night and my brother and sister-in-law returned, none the wiser (perhaps in more ways than one) about the challenges of the evening.

Sammy Kay grew into a tow-headed toddler with big blue eyes and she loves playing with horror action figures. Another collectible you might want to add to your collection aside from horror action figures is these Cosplay Contact Lenses you may use for your horror event. And since that first night together, she has had a huge piece of my heart.

Beanie babies were big when Sam was about two and I, of course, endeavored to get her all of them. In the process, I found a cute shirt for her that had beanie babies on it. My sister-in-law called me to tell me that Sam was wearing her shirt and was outside playing with one of her friends. Deb could hear them talking and heard the little friend say to Sam, “I like your shirt. Where did you get it?”  Sam answered, “My Aunt Toon [my nickname] got it for me.” “What is an Aunt Toon?” Sam’s friend asked. “The best aunt in the world” was Sam’s response.

I remember asking my mom if she thought two was too young for a Rolex. Rolexes are famously expensive, and not the kind of thing you’d trust to just any repair shop—experts like cwc watch service are the ones you’d want handling something that valuable.

She was a funny kid – at times very mischievous. But when she looked at you with those big blue innocent eyes, it was impossible to get mad at her.

Will, her brother, was born about two and a half years after Sam. Shortly after Will’s birth, my brother was transferred and he and Deb needed to look for a new house. Sam and Will came to stay with my parents in Philadelphia. Again, Aunt Toon was asked to babysit and I gladly took a day off of work to spend with the kids.

I have to admit, I was a little nervous. I once made a man cry in a deposition, but here I was back to a baby (who, by the way, was ten pounds twelve ounces when he was BORN) who couldn’t hold his head up or keep most of his food inside his body. Added to the mix now was a precocious toddler.

Also joining us that day was Sam’s favorite baby doll whom she named, all on her own, Wynonna. None of us could figure that one out.

Sam and Wynonna

I spent the day pretty much focused on the baby, while keeping an eye peeled for Sam. I had a hard time keeping Will happy. At one point, I walked through my parents’ front hall carrying Will and trying to soothe him. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Samantha upstairs. Next thing I know, Wynonna comes flying down the stairs into the front hall.

Dealing with Will, I didn’t have time to react. About a minute later Sam tugs on my shirt and says very matter-of-factly, “Wynonna is crying.”

I am a bit short on patience at this point and responded, “Well of course she is crying devil child. You threw her down the stairs!”

She looked up at me. I swear the blue eyes grew in front of my own eyes. And they became bluer. And kind of reflected back at me. And then this two and a half-year old says to me, very calmly, “did you SEE me throw Wynonna down the stairs?”

I walked straight to the phone and called my mom. “You gotta come home. If this kid’s head starts spinning around on her body, I am out of here.”

Somehow, sixteen more years quickly passed and Sam has grown into an incredible young woman.

She reminds me of myself in some ways. She is quiet, but I wouldn’t call her shy. She does not like conflict or confrontation. She is not one to lose her temper quickly, but she is very emotional.

Sam and I on our way to see Princeton together

Sam and I are on our way to Princeton

Of course I think she is beautiful, smart and athletic – and I am not biased. But most importantly, I know that she is kind, thoughtful and genuine.

I remember telling Sam, when she was very young, that she needed to understand that I would always be there for her and her brother – no matter what the circumstances or need. In many ways through the years, though, I feel as if Sam has been there for me.

For a number of reasons, my husband and I did not have children. There have been times that I have wondered if at some point in my life that choice will make me sad. The thought of having someone with whom you connect on such a deep (even cellular) level is incredible. And then I think of Sam – and I truly feel that we have that connection.

Here is the part that makes me a little emotional – it is the effort that Sam makes to give me that feeling. And it is not just in her adult years, but it has been all through her childhood. Sam has always made me feel special in her life. There are no words to describe how meaningful it has been and continues to be to me.

Happy Birthday Sammy Kay. I am so grateful for you in my life and love you so much. And I think Wynonna may be crying again … but this time happy tears.

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There is this new word in the dictionary…

January 23rd, 2012 LeeAnn

Due to the year-end rush at work, the holidays and travel, I got behind on my visits to my chiropractor. Last Thursday, about mid-day, my lower back sent me a clear message that it was going to ruin my weekend if I did not address it. FAST. So on Friday, I went to see my chiropractor, Dr. J.

Dr. J quickly tells me that I am tighter than he has seen me in years. I express frustration at this and ask him how that could be, when I have been doing so much yoga.

“You know, there is this new word in the English language. It was introduced last year in the dictionary,” Dr. J tells me. “It is called … MODERATION.”

My immediate response was to roll my eyes in exasperation at his corny attempt at humor. I seem to do that a lot in his office.

Later that night, I made a huge mistake and told my husband what he said. I cannot tell you how many times over the weekend my hubby just looked at me and said in a sarcastic tone, “oh yeah, that’s moderation.” Even worse, “Remember what Dr. J said.” Or worst of all, “I told you so.”

Truthfully, I know that I struggle with moderation. I always have. Dr. J was absolutely right (and I hate it that he might actually read this).

In my mind, if something is a good thing, then I can’t do too much of it. Or have too much of it.

Yoga is an amazing discipline. I love what it does for my body as well as my mind. My yoga instructors are phenomenal. I want to absorb their kindness and adopt their approach to life.

As a result, I have been going to yoga almost every day. Rain or shine, back spasms or no sleep – I am there. If I am out-of-town and can’t get to the studio, I practice to their instruction via a podcast.

Call it being “type A” or maybe it is just plain crazy. It became a competition with myself. I want to do the poses that I cannot do; I want to be the best client of the studio; I want to be the most earnest learner of the discipline; I want to make my muscles leaner and firmer.

And the most important realization? I lost some of the joy in the process.

I have had practices in the past in which I left the studio feeling an absolute joyousness. There were times when I lost myself totally on the mat; when I truly focused on how the movements were making my body feel and then trying to make it feel even better through my breath and other yoga tools.

Instead, what my practice has become lately is more of a box to check. I need to get in that yoga workout. I need to improve on at least three poses today. My body is tired, but I need to keep this up to get stronger. I will lose it all if I back off.

I am not as young as I used to be. My body feels my lack of moderation. I constantly smell like China Gel (a wonderfully natural equivalent of Ben Gay). I am stiff and sore. I have to see Dr. J. more often.

Like many of us, I have faced this struggle in other areas of my life, including my work and outside-life balance and my diet.

It took Dr. J’s humor to jolt me into seeing that I had lost the balance a bit again. And I realized that it relates to the concepts that I address often in this blog.

Kindness. Gentleness. Reasonableness. Compromise.

We all need to be reminded that these concepts should be applied to ourselves, as well as to others in our lives. May you all have a Dr. J in your life to do so.

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A Healthy Version of Paula Deen Banana Bread

January 16th, 2012 LeeAnn

Living in Savannah, I get asked about Paula Deen when I travel.

I am not a fan of her food, but I have to respect her business acumen. She has done extremely well for herself and her family, and has also attracted people to Savannah.

My husband loves banana bread. When we were last in the mountains, I had some bananas starting to turn and searched the internet looking for a banana bread recipe. Paula Deen’s recipe popped up first and I decided to try it. The only change I made to the recipe was to use half whole wheat flour and half regular.

The result was a hit. We had friends up that weekend and everyone loved the treat. The whole wheat flour added some depth and chewiness to the bread.

Back in Savannah, I found myself, again, with overripe bananas. Buoyed by my recent success, I decided to try some more adventuresome changes to the recipe. Instead of eggs, I used ground flaxseeds. I also reduced the butter by half and substituted Greek yogurt.

The recipe:

1 cup butter, softened (I used 1/2 cup butter and 1/4 cup of Greek plain yogurt)

1 1/2 cups sugar

4 large eggs (I used 4 tablespoons ground flaxseed mixed with 12 tablespoons of water)

3 cups of flour (I used 1 1/2 cups of white flour and 1 1/2 cups of wheat)

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

2 cups ripe, mashed bananas (I used 4 bananas)

1 cup chopped pecans

Start by preheating oven to 350 degrees and prepare two loaf pans (first time I buttered and floured the pans; second time I used Pam).

In a small bowl, combine ground flaxseed and water and mix. Let sit while you prepare everything else – it will thicken.

Mix butter, yogurt and sugar until creamy. Add flaxseed and water mix. Stir in flour, baking soda and salt, mixing well. The mixture will be very dry – I added two tablespoons of water. Finally, mix in bananas and pecans and stir jut until combined.

Pour batter into prepared pans and bake for one hour, or until a tester inserted into center comes out clean. In my oven, it took about 55 minutes.

Cool in pans on wire racks for ten minutes and then let loaves cool completely.

Or, if you are like us, cut a few slices while it is still warm and enjoy.

I made this bread a second time a few days later. This time, I reduced the sugar – to a cup – and added a little less than 1/2 cup of honey to the mix.  It was delicious and perfectly sweet. I also used walnuts instead of pecans.  There are lots of options – enjoy!!

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The Good, the Bad and the Ugly; My History with English Bulldogs

January 10th, 2012 LeeAnn

If you know me or have been a regular reader of my blog, you know that I love English Bulldogs. As you can see in this post, In Celebration of our Faithful Companions, I grew up with them. Bullies literally make me weak in the knees. There is nothing cuter than an English bulldog puppy.  Nothing.

Gracie as a baby

Despite this intensity of emotion, I will not have another after my Gracie.

English Bulldogs are extremely popular now; I believe they are the second most popular breed. The University of Georgia mascot, UGA, lives in Savannah and thus there is a special enthusiasm for bullies in Savannah. I know several people who are contemplating getting a bulldog.

With this breed more than others, an informed decision is crucial. You must know what you are getting into and you must be diligent in your research on breeders. There are good breeders out there; my husband and I are fortunate enough to call one such breeder good friends. If you are thinking about purchasing a bulldog, you may want to read Can the Bulldog be Saved?

My parents owned four English Bulldogs throughout their married life.  The first, Boomer, they purchased when they were newly married and living in Princeton, New Jersey while my dad finished his last year of college. They lived in an apartment and Boomer could not make it up the stairs due to breathing difficulties. Eventually, his nose collapsed and he had to have what was then major surgery.  Their next three bulldogs suffered from breathing issues, a hole in the heart and a stomach which turned over, respectively, along with a number of less significant health issues. After losing their final bulldog, they made the decision that their hearts could not handle another one.

When my husband and I were married, we were a little like the animal Brady Bunch. My husband had two beautiful English Setters, who were trained bird dogs, and I had my two Humane Society kittens, Oprah and her sister Rosie, who has since passed away. Although the bird dogs were gorgeous and sweet, they were not my idea of pets. They were uncomfortable in the house and were only happy if out in a field pointing at birds. Plus, they pretty much didn’t care if I lived or died as they were so bonded to my husband.

I decided that I needed a bulldog. My husband was supportive; my parents wrung their hands and tried gently to warn me. At that point in my life, the heartache that I had lived through with two of my parents’ bulldogs was a distant memory. I only remembered their incredible loving personalities and funny dispositions.

I found Gracie’s breeder in a classified ad in Northern Georgia. We visited his house and I felt safe as the owner of the mother was a veterinarian, who was a recent graduate of the University of Georgia vet school (one of the top in the nation). The father was owned by a professor at the vet school.

From the beginning, Gracie was (and is) the most amazing dog that I have ever known. The bond formed between us very quickly. The health problems started almost right away as well.

First was the hip dysplasia and a TPO on each hip, which totalled over four thousand dollars.

Due to her breathing problems, she probably should have had surgery to open up her nasal passage.  The author in Can the Bulldog be Saved? compares their breathing to ours if we clamped our mouth and nose shut and were then able to breathe only through a straw. Imagine then getting out of breath for some reason and being able to breath only through the straw. When I come home everyday from work, that is how Gracie greets me; she gets so excited to see me that she starts to gasp for breath. It breaks my heart.

In her later years, Gracie has encountered some significant eye problems, which required surgeries. I almost lost her in the first surgery due to her breathing problems. For the second surgery, the eye surgeon did it in the office, with me never leaving her and holding her, and then I whisked her into our car, where my dad was sitting running the air conditioning at full strength, to recover at home. I know now that she couldn’t survive any additional surgeries.

We constantly combat skin and allergy issues in the ears, in the folds on her face and under her curled tail. The tail pocket is especially problematic depending on how tightly curled the tail is.  Moisture gets trapped under there and infections grow; the same situation can occur in the skin folds on the face. Our twice daily routine is for me to check her skin folds and ears, and medicate them if necessary. Every time she goes to the bathroom, we have to wipe and clean under her tail.

Gracie is also on medication – four different types of pills, and our vet visits us at least once a month, maybe once every three weeks. Our vet comes to us; due to the breathing issues, we cannot take her to a vet’s office as she gets too stressed.

During Gracie’s lifetime, my husband and I have had two other English Bulldogs, neither of which lived to maturity due to various bulldog issues. With the passing of each one, a piece of our hearts went with them.

Has my sweet Gracie been worth every effort and every cent spent on her? Without a doubt. And because of her, and the other bullies that I have had in my life, I will always love English Bulldogs.

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Pressing Reset

December 28th, 2011 LeeAnn

That is what I am doing this last week of 2011 – pressing my reset button. This was a busy and stressful year-end for me, and when I get stressed I tend to develop some unhealthy habits. I have taken this week off and am attempting to rest, relax and regain my perspective.

We are in the mountains and received a light dusting of snow last night.

Today is very cold – with a strong wind.

A lesser known fact: Western North Carolina is also known as the mouse capital of the United States (or so I have been told).  In our last mountain house, we struggled with mice constantly. I opened a drawer in the kitchen once and found packs of gum that mice had chewed. So far, we have been lucky with this house. But it is always on my mind.

Today, when I walked by the guest bedroom, I got down the hall and thought – “was that a mouse on the bed?”

I went back and looked a little closer…

and then even closer…

Gracie is a little stressed with the change in scenery too.

As an aside, if things look a little different to you, it is because I accidentally deleted my header while trying to make some changes. Luckily, I have some talented friends who are helping me to update the blog.

I hope all of you have a happy and safe new year and I will be back in 2012, reinvigorated and ready to blog!

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