Author Archives: janaremy@gmail.com

when I was in college…

My kids love to hear the story of when I had scurvy in college–perhaps because it’s a story that doesn’t seem to jive so well with the health-conscious mother than they know now (or maybe, because they see it as a story of my experimentation and learning)…(or maybe it’s just funny for them to think of their Mom suffering from a pirate-disease)…

When I was in college I was frugal. I had enough money from what my parents gave me for school and what I earned from working as a cashier in the university bookstore to meet all of my daily needs, but I also loved watching the money accrue in my bank account so I was always challenging myself to cut corners and save more money.

At the time, I was renting a room from a family that I ate dinner with nightly, so I provided my own breakfast and lunch. As such, I learned that I could spend only $10/week on groceries if I ate toast for breakfast and baked potatoes for lunch. So that’s what I did everyday. Toast-potatoes-dinner. This family loved to cook Italian, so dinner was often pasta with a cheese sauce or a seafood sauce.

And soon enough I started having nosebleeds. The nosebleeds eventually got so persistent that it was difficult for me to attend my college lectures, because my nose would start bleeding and I’d have to walk out of class to take care of it. And often the bleeding would take so long to cease that class would be over by the time I could return.

So I asked a friend that was doing a medical internship for some advice about the nosebleeds, and he consulted a doctor that he worked with and that doctor suggested that I was probably suffering from scurvy, or at least a vitamin deficiency of some sort due to my cheap diet.

And of course once I began eating some fruits and veggies again, the nosebleeds cleared up.

Since then I’ve tried some pretty strange dietary experiments. I’ve fasted for healing, I’ve gone vegan, and I’ve beefed up my protein intake for body-sculpting. I’ve also gone through periods with so little money that I’ve eaten mostly cheap starches for a few days until there was another paycheck in the bank. But even with all of that, I’ve managed to steer clear of another bout with scurvy. Once was enough for me.

let’s set the world on fire….

Loving the acoustic rendition of this song (I do love me some piano), and the refrain…celebrating the warmth and brightness of my life.

Tonight
We are young
So let’s the set the world on fire
We can burn brighter
Than the sun

Carry me home tonight
Just carry me home tonight
Carry me home tonight
Just carry me home tonight

The world is on my side
I have no reason to run
So will someone come and carry me home tonight
The angels never arrived
But I can hear the choir
So will someone come and carry me home

Tonight
We are young
So let’s set the world on fire
We can burn brighter
Than the sun

So if by the time the bar closes
And you feel like falling down
I’ll carry you home tonight

wearing my heart on my sleeve (or not)…

photoFor a good long time (most of the life of this blog), I wrote a lot of super-gooey happy stuff about my spouse and my kids and and my canoeing and my schooling and just about everything else wonderful I could think to write about.  Of course there’ve been some hard times, but the balance has been tilted towards the joyful/remarkable/magical.

I think, since my divorce, it’s been a bit harder for me to be so celebratory in this space.  It’s true that I still tend to post a lot of happiness here, but I think it’s toned down a bit.

Now it seems a bit harder for me to celebrate my own successes or happinesses, because I fear it would hurt those of my friends who aren’t experiencing those themselves.  When there is so much unemployment in my social circle, it’s hard to feel joy in having job security.  When a friend’s car is becoming unreliable and they don’t have the resources to fix it, I’m a bit embarrassed by the two new-ish cars in my driveway.  When I hear of a health diagnosis that’s the worst-case-scenario rather than the best-one, it’s hard to find pleasure in my own health.  When others have lost love in their lives, I don’t want to cause pain by speaking about my own romantic adventures.  Perhaps a lot of that sort of feeling comes to a head on a day like today, where half of my friends are celebrating their relationships and the other half are decrying a holiday that’s so overwrought/commercialized/saccharine…

Maybe it’s because I know (all too well) what it’s like to be alone on a special holiday, to face financial uncertainty, to get bad results from the lab tests, and to have news that wounds so deep inside that it takes days for the sun to shine again, that I’m feeling for friends who are experiencing those now.  And I wish I could find a way to salve the hurts and difficulties and make things easier again…

On Sunday at sunset I stood at the top of Griffith Park and looked over the whole huge city of Los Angeles and saw more stories and people and places than I could hardly process in a glance.  I’m sure there was all kinds of horror and heartbreak out there in the city, but I couldn’t see it in that moment.  For me, it was simply beautiful.

But…I wouldn’t know how beautiful it was to be there and to see that if I hadn’t also had days where I couldn’t ambulate well enough to get out of the house, or times when I didn’t have the resources to travel across the city, or moments when I didn’t have a person to share it with walking at my side.

what love…

pink lisanthus

I’ve posted this poem before, but it seemed apropos for today, too  🙂

If they come in the night

by Marge Piercy

Long ago on a night of danger and vigil
a friend said, Why are you happy?
He explained (we lay together
on a hard cold floor) what prison
meant because he had done
time, and I talked of the death
of friends. Why are you happy
then, he asked, close to
angry.

I said, I like my life. If I
have to give it back, if they
take it from me, let me only
not feel I wasted any, let me
not feel I forgot to love anyone
I meant to love, that I forgot
to give what I held in my hands,
that I forgot to do some little
piece of the work that wanted
to come through.

Sun and moonshine, starshine,
the muted grey light off the waters of the bay at night, the white
light of the fog stealing in,
the first spears of the morning
touching a face
I love. We all lose
everything. We lose
ourselves. We are lost.

Only what we manage to do
lasts, what love sculps from us;
but what I count, my rubies, my
children, are those moments
wide open when I know clearly
who I am, who you are, what we
do, a marigold, an oakleaf, a meteor,
with all my senses hungry and filled
at once like a pitcher with light.

standing

For the past few weeks I’ve been sitting in a chair at a computer for so many hours a day that my body started rebelling. I knew I couldn’t keep it up–it was getting too hard to stay in the same position for so many hours straight. So I decided maybe it was time to experiment with a standing desk.

I decided that I shouldn’t buy a standing desk if I wasn’t sure whether I would use it, so I kluged together a desk at about the right height with a milk crate and a few other odd-n-ends from around my office. The first few days of standing went really well–I liked how it felt to get out of my chair and the change kept me focused and productive.

But I noticed one major problem. I do a lot of one-on-one meetings with faculty, and they became awkward if I was standing at my desk instead of sitting. But I needed to stand to work at my computer (usually I’m demo-ing some software with faculty during our meetings, so I turn my big iMac screen so we can both see it as I’m talking with them). The person I was meeting with invariably felt like they needed to stand up, too. It made our interactions less personable and chatty. I noticed that they apologized often about ‘interrupting me,’ even if we had an appointment to meet together.

On Day four of my standing desk my left knee began to bother me, an IT-band issue, apparently. By Day 5 it pushed me into a chair more often–the tightness in my knee becoming more unbearable as the day wore on.

So the upshot of the experience is that I’m still unsure whether I’ll invest in a standing desk. I think it feels good to have a different workspace, especially one that gets me out of my desk chair. But I think the same types of problems that I have with sitting all day will also happen if I stand all day (perhaps even more so, since I’m standing on one organic leg and one bionic one).

What about you, have you experimented with a standing desk? If so, did you find that it worked well, or did you lose interest in it once the novelty wore off?

because it’s that time of year…

Since it’s almost V-Day, I’ve got romance on the brain…

Last year around this time, my friends helped me to create a list of criteria for a future partner.  It was a fun exercise to see what they hoped for me, to add a few of my own desires, and to comment when I think they missed the mark.

Based on my dating experiences since then, I’ve added a few things to my list:

  • I’d like my partner to be flexible and adaptable.  To be the kind of person that when you take a wrong turn when you’re heading somewhere, doesn’t panic or get angsty.  But who sees it as an opportunity to explore somewhere that neither of you had anticipated.
  • Enjoying good food is a must.  Having an adventurous palate and knowing one’s way around the kitchen is also pretty important.  Because I get so much pleasure from creating and eating food, I want a partner who can appreciate the effort that goes into preparing a meal, and who enjoys the subtleties of spice and fresh ingredients.
  • I’d like for my partner to be a naturally happy person, whose default mood tends toward the positive and who radiates enthusiasm.  While we all have our down days, I like being around people who feel hopeful, and for whom negative experiences are an exception rather than the norm.  They should smile often and easily, and even be prone to fits of occasional giggling.
  • I also want my partner to be passionate.  About their life, their work, their hobbies, their goals, and their future.  Ok, and a little passion for me should be somewhere in there, too  🙂

One thing that was a surprise to me this past year, was the realization that dating inside of the ivory tower isn’t a necessity–because for a long time I only imagined myself with another professor-type.  Since then I’ve learned that I spend so much time with other academics, it’s actually quite refreshing to get outside of that bubble.  But…on the flip side, I’ve found that some of the non-academic people that I’ve dated don’t like hanging out with intellectuals, or are intimidated by a group of friends who all have advanced degrees.  So I’d have to say that anyone I date that’s from outside that world, needs to also appreciate that my social circle tends to revolve around the university, and not find that too daunting.

This dating stuff has been quite a wild ride.  I’ve found some people who were “right” in all of my categories but for whom I had zero romantic attraction.  And then there were those who were so different from me that I didn’t even know what we find to talk about, but who made me so weak in the knees that I didn’t care much at all about the conversation.  And of course, I have found those that I was attracted to both mind and body (and what a delight).

I never expected to go through dating or courtship again after I settled on marrying John, so this has been totally unexpected phase of life…but also one that’s both more exciting and more satisfying than I could have ever imagined.

While I’m still not thrilled that my ex left me, I am glad that I get to choose a new partner now.  Especially being so much wiser and more practical than I was at age 18 when what was paramount in my future husband was that he was a faithful Mormon.

Previous Valentine’s Day posts

 

 

like a prayer…

The SuperBowl halftime show brought back so many memories. And what a thrill that it ended with my favorite Madonna song (and how fun to sing along)…

PS: I want to be one of Madonna’s biceps when I grow up…

smile, a triptych

I.

I tried an experiment once

after too many days of Utah winter and indoors

with two toddlers.

I would see what my

smile

would get me…

We went to the library for storytime, and there was an older man

a grandpa

leading some children’s music by playing the harmonica

he had a suitcase full of different harmonicas at his side

So I asked him some questions

about a good starter harmonica and about music

I pointed to several in his case and asked about them

he said he taught lessons

he gave me his card, and I

smiled

and kept asking questions

before long, he had pulled a new harmonica out of his bag

and had me playing a few notes on it,

learning to close the holes with my tongue to make different sounds

it felt strange to be talking with a stranger about where to put my tongue

but I was learning and

I kept asking questions and I

smiled

and after awhile he pulled a small box out of the bottom of his case.

It was about the size of a stick of trident gum, but thicker

and he told me that it was mine and I

smiled

and opened it and it was a small golden harmonica

on a gold necklace chain, which he said

I could now take with me anywhere

“I can’t accept that,” I said and

smiled

and he closed his hand around mine

and told me that he wanted me to have it

because my

smile

had made him happy.

***

II.

It’s time for my annual interview

with a church leader.

A man that I’ve never met before,

he ushers me into his office

closes the door behind him and I

smile

as I shake his hand

and he pulls out the list of questions

he must ask to judge if I can

enter the temple, again.

I settle into my chair across the desk

from him and he steeples his fingers

and looks at me.

“Sister,” he says.

“I can tell from your beautiful

smile

that you will answer all of these questions

correctly.

I can just see these things sometimes.”

And I

smile

again as he signs his name to the

small white card that certifies

I am worthy.

***

III.

I went to the cantina at the invitation of

a friend-of-a-friend who knew I was just barely

divorced and wanting to ‘get out.’

That friend-of-a-friend bought me a drink

and then moved on

to the other side of the room.

And I sat there

at the bar alone, stirring my drink

and thinking.

A man approached and as we talked we

discovered we had more in common

than just our friend.  And I

smiled

as he told me how hard it is to meet

smart women, who know some things

about technology.  And then I

chewed on the corner of my lip

because I had never met a man in a bar before

and I hesitated

when he offered to buy me another

margarita as we

nibbled on nachos. I asked myself

what does it mean

that we’ve been talking for

two hours now?

And I wondered what should I do when he said

“Let’s get out of here,” while motioning to our

friend who had long since left

us in this corner.  So I

smiled

and we went

for a walk on the beach.

And in the dark as he ran his fingertips

from my ear down my neck, I asked

why he approached me

in that bar and and he said

he couldn’t help it,

because of my

smile

 

your cooking

Tonight I’m making Susan’s carrots: a delightful (and a smidge healthy) dish of steamed carrots caramelized in a tablespoon of real maple syrup.  They’re candy-sweet and so tasty!  I learned how to make these so many years ago when Susan and I were friends living near each other in Salt Lake City.  Every time I make these carrots I think of her and her charming Martha-Stewart-like kitchen and the hours spent chatting over food (and kids and photos and writing and…dreams of graduate school).  Another favorite thing I make that I also learned during those years of my life is “Mindy Sauce,” which is an Italian marinara that my friend Melinda taught me how to make and has a few variations (varying the final spice can make it a bit sweet or a bit more savory).  As I whip it up I always remember her admonition to keep adding the basil until the contrast between the red tomato-y sauce and the green leaves “looks like Christmas” in the pot.  🙂

I have so many recipes that I make based on the memory of a friend sharing them with me.  Some recent additions to my repertoire include Jonathan’s steak (with a bleu cheese sauce, amazing), Karen’s guacamole (with a secret creamy ingredient!), Stijn’s Salty Cod (although he makes it so much better than me), Aubrey’s Salt-crusted Chicken (my new favorite way to roast a bird), and Sandra’s Magical Salty-Sweet-Crunchy appetizers (yumyumyum).

It makes me wonder what food reminds my friends of me?  My pizza, perhaps (that I love rolling out on the bar in my kitchen while entertaining a group and sipping wine and giggling?  Or a loaf of my homemade bread?  Or something else?

And, what is your signature dish?