Benign Random Thoughts

"Being 70 is no joke, but it isn't a sin either." Now I can't remember where I read/saw that.

"Go big or go home." Zero Dark Thirty.

Connor is becoming a swimming machine.
I may have my hearing aids by cruise time.
Book club's 15th  anniversary meeting is Wed night at my house.
Ian asked me not to mention his birthday on Facebook, so I won't, but not because I don't love him or forgot him, but only because he asked me not to.

Vegetables:
Good vegetables vs bad vegetables, poison vegetables, the dirty dozen loaded with pesticides, organic vs cheap, canned, frozen, fresh, dried, I have no trouble eating enough fried chicken or fruit, but getting vegetables down my gullet can be a challenge.

Don't get me wrong, I love vegetables, but I hate messing about with them. One of the problems to me is the carrots that need washed, scrubbed, chopped and cooked taste so much better the the little pre-scrubbed ones you can buy in a ready-to-eat-package. Beets scrubbed, cooked, and peeled taste so much better than canned. I figure frozen or canned vegetables are better than no vegetables, but I should not have all the sodium. Finding salt free frozen and canned vegetables becomes a bit of a challenge.

Canned tomatoes, a staple for years, is now considered toxic. Acid and tin or something like that, and I need to find the salt free. What's a diabetic to do? I fail sometimes. And I can eat a gallon of vegetables and still be hungry, still need a bite of carbohydrate, a cracker, cookie, or something else that is diabetic poison.

Potatoes -- I used to cook them three or four times a week, now it's barely three or four times a year, well not counting the forays with burgers and fries. I love potatoes; chopped, fried, boiled, mashed, baked.

Pasta -- I am maybe 81% switched to whole wheat.
Rice -- 67% switched to brown or wild.

A vegetable diet makes me feel better, but still hungry and dissatisfied. And to tell you the truth I'm sick and tired of all the vegetable preparing and cooking. I've gotten old and lazy. And all the press about this bad vegetable and that bad vegetable. And all the rules. And all the dos and don'ts. It used to be so simple. Maybe it's all the rules that turns me off. I do have a love/hate relationship with rules. Maybe a combination of both.

Stephanie can cook vegetables that make the angels sing. Jan can't.
Tal is a terrific vegetable cook, except for that dirty 6 letter word squash, but I have seen him in the kitchen washing, scrubbing, peeling, chopping, mincing, preparing, cooking the tasty tidbits. Work, work, work.

I don't cook like I used to but I never became a modern cook, I can't seem to bridge the gap from chicken fried steak to Thai orange beef salad or green papaya salad, or Autumn root vegetable medley. Don't know why.

I can eat salads, but want dressing.
Squash -- with crackers and butter
Zucchini -- stuffed, preferably with a little Italian sausage
Potatoes -- loaded
Beets -- pickled
Tomatoes -- with pasta of course
Hominy -- in menudo
Okra -- fried
Kale -- just not into it

I put vegetables in my omelettes, vegetables in my soup, vegetable pizza, lasagna, vegetable cake. I can make them all. I haven't tried vegetable ice cream yet, but I love SoBe's carrot orange soda.

If you have any ideas on how not to be lazy or simple vegetable cooking recipes shoot them at me.
~and~
I read something interesting about piggy banks but it will have to wait for another time. Maybe not: "pig" is what they used to call the earthenware used for coin containers. Coin containers have been found in centuries old archaeology digs, Asian and European. Fascinating.

Alaska preparations are in force:

I've borrowed a red polka-dotted dress from the sweet young thing at work. I asked her where she bought it and promised not to wear it anywhere close to where she was and she offered to loan it to me. I love sweet young things. Ian was worried I was borrowing a dress from a twenty-something but I now have his full seal of approval as long as I get some kind of black wrap to go with it for chilly Alaskan evenings. To go with my seven pair of red shoes.

I culled out all my nautical earrings, including the sailboats Jane gave me twenty-five years ago, also the black pearls, the octopus, the sea turtles (2), whales (2) one pair from the Jeff and one pair from the Bowman's after their Alaskan cruise, a gift for being a taxi to and fro. They forgave me for driving down the wrong side of the street and getting lost in Seattle after their flight arrived many hours late. At least I think they forgave me.

They also brought me, as another thank you, a fantastic ethnic Alaskan woven shoulder bag -- beautiful! I think that little Alaskan bag deserves to go back to Alaska one last time. Cathy says I need a little thing for various reasons but I forget for what now, swipe cards or something. There is so much I don't know about cruising.

What I do know is I will be bringing enthusiasm, excitement, anticipation, joy, and love as we get this cruise under way.

Seven pair of red shoes have to go somewhere besides up the hill to work. Go big or go home -- we are going BIG.
Jean's 75th Birthday Alaskan Cruise Rolling Circus