A Bouncing Baby Book

Folks, it is finally time to announce the completion of a project I've been working on for the past year. It's a book. It's called Dear Girls, a Mother's Message about True Beauty. It's written for girls age 12-25, and is about body image, and taking healthy steps to discovering our power and potential in this world. It is based on my very own true story.

"If you don't quit worrying about your body, your girls will start worrying about theirs." These chilling words spoken by a true friend have haunted Rachel since the day they were spoken. Worried there might be some truth to that bleak prediction, she decides to write her young girls a story, one that tells her very own tale of forgiveness, health and healing.

The book is due to come out in mid-November, and a launch party will be held at the end of November for any who want to attend. More details will follow, but until then please enjoy this teaser chapter of my beloved project: Dear Girls.

   The Beauty of Boys

November 6, 2011

Dear Girls,

“This, like all other stories worth telling, is all about a girl.” That’s one of the first lines Peter Parker speaks in the 2002 hit movie Spider Man. Sometimes when words like that are spoken by a cute boy on a big screen it sounds romantic. When I was younger, though, and I heard a girl say something like that about a boy and her actual life, it sounded pathetic and desperate.  Why was that? Why did I think that the pursuit of a girl by a boy was romantic, but the pursuit of a boy by a girl was just sad? It’s because in my mind, you only had to pursue a boy if you weren’t good enough. If you were good enough, perfect enough, skinny enough and enough enough, they would come after you. And that was just plain romantic.

I was in sixth grade when I first noticed boys noticing my body, and to my dismay, other girls’ bodies. I was boy crazy for as long as I can remember and I craved their attention. I had at least one dramatic and devastatingly deep crush every school year. I couldn’t name all my teachers, but I sure can tell you who I spent my time thinking about each year. From Brandon Fisher in Kindergarten right on up to Billy Walters in fifth grade I had someone to daydream about.   Sixth grade was when I discovered how exciting it was to actually earn your crush’s attention by flirting.  Back then it was “totally in” to be “going out” which of course did not mean going anywhere at all, but that you were committed to a lasting, meaningful relationship with a particular individual as long as you both shall live, or until he broke your heart at recess, whichever came first.

The boyfriend I was most proud of that year was Shawn McGee. He was the new kid, so his allure apart from his heart palpitation causing dimples was his mystery. He sat next to me in class and was the shy, blushing type. He could kick the ball the farthest in kick ball, run the fastest in all PE activities and was the tallest and most athletic of all my classmates. He was an only child, which was interesting to me since I had four siblings. He lived right by the school.  I got to walk past his house every morning and afternoon in my to-and-from school travels.

At that age, as any self-respecting sixth grade girl can tell you, you have to beat them at something to get their attention. Then be flirtatious and fun for the most part so they’re not insulted, just impressed. Then you have to tease them and pay them lots of attention.  I did my utmost to make sure I was on the opposite team in kick ball and always played the outfield so I’d be in prime position to catch his high flying kicks in my direction. It almost always worked. I flirted shamelessly with him every day. And then it happened. Right around February that year he asked me out! Not on a date, of course, for in sixth grade, the words, “Will you go out with me?” took on a much deeper meaning than a simple possibility of an upcoming date. No, no, those words meant commitment. I of course wrote “yes” on the note he had passed me to submit his request. I can almost feel the butterflies now.

The next week was very important because it was going to be our first (and likely only, but you couldn’t tell me that) Valentine’s Day as a couple. I had to wear the absolute perfect thing, of course, and think of something completely meaningful to give him. I mean, a valentine’s gift isn’t just your average present ladies; this is something you bestow upon each other to symbolize your deep and abiding love! Also it had to be under $5. Tricky.  I planned balloons and candy. I had to get up early and beg my mom to take me to buy the balloon bouquet and heart-shaped chocolates I thought he’d like most. Carrying them to school with me made me feel so special that those multicolored balloons might as well have been carrying me off the ground. He surprised me with a card he stamped himself with a teddy bear stamp and: a rose. A ROSE! Oh man, that’s when you know you’ve made it, girls, when you can proudly tote a rose around to all your classes on Valentine’s Day and even the teachers noticed. I was living the dream, and Shawn and I lasted clear into that spring.

 In early April I secured the envied crossing guard duty. It was always a privilege to be a crossing guard at any crosswalk, but this time I got what I considered the best news of my life up to that point: I was assigned the crosswalk on Ridge Street, right by Shawn’s house! Every morning I would arrive early with my neon orange flag and walk kids across to safety right where he could see me if he so chose. Every afternoon, I later found out, he and his friends really would watch me that whole week. It was then I heard the powerful words he said about me. These words filled my heart with the joy of success and feeling wanted and loved.  Randy Chapman told me that Jason Stock told him that Shawn said, “Rachel has the best body in the whole sixth grade.” Done.  I now knew exactly what I had to have in order for the boys to love and want me around: The best body. Did I need to be funny? Nope. How about fun, easy going, sensitive, a good cook, smart, or rich? Nope, nope, nope.  Beauty had now been defined to me by a boy I liked: The best body. And who determines whether or not I have the best body? The boys do, by the amount of attention I receive from them.

I tucked that golden nugget of what I thought was knowledge away for future romantic pursuits. I imagined I had the key to ensure I was desired, loved, and otherwise doted upon for the rest of my life. Little did I know what a double edged sword that “knowledge” would prove to be.

The summer before seventh grade was a trying one. Shawn and I broke up (no surprise there), and I entered the summer with no strings attached. I went to the pool every day with my friends, had a great tan, and spent many a carefree eve with night games and sleepovers. Also I gained over twenty pounds.  Yes sir, puberty bit me hard, right on my growing gluteus maximus. I didn’t know what to do. I thought puberty came with menstruation and that had happened ages ago back in the fifth grade! I totally thought I’d dodged the weight gain bullet of puberty. But no, that summer I passed the dreaded one-hundred pound barrier, and had one fleeting wistful glance at it as I ran right through it to a hundred and ten. What?? What are these weird white stretch marks on my beautifully tanned and otherwise muscular thighs? How did that unsightly flab appear overnight on my upper arms, and what the?!? Are those LOVE HANDLES? Life? Over. Beauty? Gone. Hopes of ever catching anyone as fabulous as Shawn McGee again? Dashed.  I felt shafted, doomed, and otherwise ill-fated. That my puberty should consist of a period and weight gain seemed outrageously unfair. Plus I got braces and zits. Oh how could it get any worse? It would though, because I was about to enter the deep dark hellish hole we refer to as Middle School.

Hidden Peak Hustle

I love to run, obviously. I would change almost anything in my schedule around to go. Running trails are my therapy. However, I have very strong feelings against races. Why? I'm a cheapskate. I just feel there is something fundamentally wrong with paying to go running. Also, most races are run on pavement. I can't pay to run on the road.  I've been very vocal about this view, so you may find it surprising to hear that in early September I participated in my first ever 10k race.

First of all, it was a trail race set in the beautiful mountains of Snowbird. Secondly, my friend Hilary found a Groupon for it. Win-win.

Hilary Lesh and Andrea Morganegg, two of my favorite running pals

unplanned matching outfits.

Altra loving girls. These shoes seriously rock.

I should mention that while we had all been running regularly, we did not find it necessary to train for this particular race. I didn't think the altitude difference would be that big of a deal. Turns out going from 4,000-ish feet to 8,000-ish feet really changes things!

 It was brutal in the beginning. Steep inclines, coughing like mad in the thin air, and trying to keep up with the group took a toll, but the middle was absolutely gorgeous.We hit our stride at about mile two. It was a lovely time clear until mile four when we all thought we should be done and the nice person at the drink station told us we were just over halfway. What? Then the inclines began again. Who plans a race with hills at the beginning AND the end? Oh well, at least it was pretty!

We all finished within minutes of each other. Over all not a bad first race. They even had really cute T-shirts for us, not just the big old boxy man T-shirts I was expecting. We were greeted with applause, water and stroop wafels at the finish line. Best. Cookies. Ever. Would I do it again? Maybe next year, if stroop wafels are still involved.

At the end.

A moose we saw next to the parking lot as we left.

Rim to Rim. The Grand Adventure.

It's almost three months later.  I'm literally sitting here pep-talking myself into writing this story, it's that exhausting. Oddly enough that just makes me want to go again, almost like I need a do-over. I'll begin by telling you that hiking Rim to Rim in one day is never recommended by the people that work in and around the Grand Canyon. In fact it's strongly discouraged.  It's roughly 25 miles across with sever elevation changes. It is approximately 7000 feet down from the North Rim to the floor, and 6000 feet back up the other side. Many hikers who are ill-prepared attempt it with disastrous results. We were all pretty well prepared, though, and among the eight of us, there were only three first timers. My dad has done this same hike four times now since 2002, Jen three times, Nate and I and Jon Lewis now twice. We had been training for months and were very excited to go. We started at 6 am and planned on a 10-11 hour hike time. When we take people that have never been before, starting at 4 am like most Rim to Rim-ers kind of defeats the purpose of showing someone the canyon. They would miss the whole North Rim and then some. We chose June for the large amount of daylight we would have. Also, we hoped it wouldn't be too hot yet in June. That kind of makes me laugh now. Our group was large, consisting of eight hikers: Jim Curtis (my dad), Jen Curtis (my sister), Derek Baker (Jen's boyfriend), Nate and I, Bob and Brandon Allan (my uncle and cousin from California), and Jon Lewis (our friend).

The hikers at North Rim. 6am, ready to go.
(L-R Derek Baker, Jen Curtis, Nathan and Rachel Larsen, Bob Allan, Brandon Allan, Jon Lewis, and Jim Curtis)

We had a group of four people to shuttle the cars around and meet us at the South Rim. My mother, as well as my mother and father in law, Chuck and Cheryl Larsen, and my aunt Janet were taking that job. They hiked with us for the first mile and a quarter to a lookout point. We began very slowly, since we had the shuttlers with us. They were just on a nature stroll, and had no interest in hiking the thing in its entirety. They just wanted a taste of each rim. By the time we reached the lookout point my legs were shaking with the effort it took to hold myself back on the steep downgrade. I knew I'd be completely exhausted by the time we reached the bottom if we didn't pick up the pace to give my quads a break. Jon Lewis, Nate and I decided to jog a little ahead. Well, Jon wasn't jogging, he was hiking, but his long, quick strides soon left us in the dust.

At the lookout point not far from the top of North Rim

Nate and I at the look out point. You can see the canyon we'll be hiking behind us.

One first stop was roaring springs, approximately 5 miles down. We all stopped for a quick refuel and water break. We met many hikers there, some coming, some going, and it was fun to chatter about each's hike and destination. Jon took off ahead of us again.  Nate and I  again made the decision to jog to save our legs. We knew we'd be hiking with the rest of the group after Phantom Ranch, so we weren't too concerned about staying together as a group at that point. Another two miles and we were at Cottonwood Campground. We were all still feeling fresh and exhilarated.  We then took a mile and half detour to Ribbon falls so anyone who'd never seen it before could behold it's splendor.....

Ribbon Falls in all it's glory.

I kind of wish we hadn't taken that detour, though. Nate and I had both seen it, and we felt like it took the wind out of our sails hiking back to the trail from it. It was with that slight decrease in energy that we began the trek through "The Box".   This is a 4 mile corridor with 1000' rock walls on either side. It tends to trap heat in those walls. The trail heats up like a convection oven. It feels endless. We alternated jogging with walking through it, and drank as much as we could.  My muscles started to feel stiff, and I started wishing for the cool air of the little lodge at Phantom Ranch.

The Box

Still smiling (kind of) in The Box

 When we jogged into Phantom Ranch I was worried. We were roughly two-thirds through our hike, but my muscles were already screaming. We got into the little lodge/store thing and found Jon there guzzling ice cold lemonade and refueling. We ate. Our fuel was simple, and I think that really helped us. We chose peanut butter filled pretzel, nuts and freeze dried fruit. Jon said he'd been there for about a half hour. The first thing I noticed about Jon was that he was covered in dried salt. Seriously, white waving lines were all over his hat, his face, his arms and shirt. I'd never seen anyone visibly lose that much salt in their sweat. I asked about his fuel. He said he still had plenty of salt replacement, electrolyte replacement and the like. He was very chipper. He stayed with us while we waited for the others. When they arrived my sister's boyfriend, Derek came in and laid down on a bench at a table. He just walked in, groaned and laid down. He didn't rush up to the counter like the rest of us for some lemonade, he didn't move. Uh-oh.

Refilling water, checking and bandaging blisters at Phantom Ranch. (L-R: Rachel Larsen, Derek Baker, Jen Curtis, Jim Curtis)

We waited for everyone to feel refreshed for another 45 minutes. We discovered you could buy ice there. ICE! Oh man, we bought three big bags to split among our eight packs. As we sat filling our packs with it, a worker came by to check the AC wall unit that was by our table. He said it was 99 degrees inside the building. It took me a second to think that through. If it was 99 degrees inside and it felt heavenly, what is it outside?  Hell. That's what it was.

Nate and I by the Thermometer outside Phantom Ranch.  it reads 124 degrees. In that bulletin board there is a sign referring to the thermometer that says, "That can't be right, can it? Yes it is."

After everyone felt sufficiently fueled and treated we got back on the trail. Jon once again went on ahead. Just outside of Phantom Ranch there is a thermometer, and it was then our hopes for a cooler day in June were dashed. It read 124 degrees. We still had a long way to go. Derek started having some real dehydration issues. His muscles were cramping, and so it was to the music of his grunting and agonized gasping that we continued on.

The trail heading out of Phantom Ranch

Our next landmark was the bridge across the Colorado river. I dreaded that bridge because I remembered what came after it. The hardest part of the hike, that's what.

On the bridge over the Colorado.

From this point on there are not many pictures. You'll soon read why. We continued on through what is known as the Devil's corkscrew. 200' of winding switchbacks heading steeply up in red hot sand. Sand. Oddly enough, I felt pretty good. We had to stop frequently as poor Derek's entire back would seize and we'd hear his strained Arrrrrrgh!  To this day whenever we mention the Grand Canyon, he looks at me and makes that crazy grunting, gasping yell. I love it. It was just after the corkscrew that I felt the first symptom of heat exhaustion. Nausea. I  tried not to worry. With each step I felt my vision get more and more unfocused and my mind feel more and more panicked. I quickly assessed my situation. I had plenty of ice water, that wouldn't be a problem. I needed to rest but stopping so frequently in the hot sun in the corkscrew was not helping. I told Nate I couldn't stop anymore, and that I felt sick. He told me to go on ahead and find my uncle and cousin. I said, "you'd let your wife wander on alone knowing I'm feeling sick???" He gave me the 'quit-whining-you're-fine' look, and I knew he was right. He could not come with me, he needed to carry Derek's pack and make sure he was OK. I went on alone for maybe 5 minutes before I heard someone calling my name. Bob and Brandon were resting on a rock on the far side of a creek in the shade. Shade. I was so grateful. Bob was cheerful and chatty. Brandon confided that he was worried about altitude sickness. Altitude,  I thought, didn't you train? Oh yeah, they're from California and he trained at sea level. It was around 5 miles from Phantom Ranch to Indian Gardens campground, and a further 4 miles from there to the top. If he was going to get altitude sickness, his symptoms would be about the same as heat exhaustion and there was really no going back at this point. He shrugged it off. We waited for Jen, Derek, Nate and my dad and continued on to Indian Gardens all together. We frequently soaked shirts and chilly pads (Best. Invention. Ever.) in the creek that was near the path and stopped so often I thought we'd never get out.

Trail on the South Rim side looking back toward the green patch of trees in the distance that is Indian Gardens campground

When we finally reached Indian Gardens it was 5 pm. We were at 11 hours and still 4 miles from the top. Groan. We were very surprised there to see a Polish couple on a bench, crying. The woman seemed to be angry at the man. Then there was Jon. Jon? We thought he would have been out of the canyon by now. He was sitting on a bench in the shade with a very weary look on his face.  He said that he got hit with heat exhaustion in the corkscrew and decided to take a nap on the trail for a half hour in the shade. What? Jon, a nap on the trail? Those are the kind of naps you don't always wake up from! The Polish couple, it turns out, had hiked from the South Rim to the River and back that day, roughly 18 miles round trip. Jon found them on the trail and followed them because they didn't seem like they were doing too well, and he wanted to be with them just in case. They were totally unprepared. She was completely sunburned in shorty shorts and a tank top, and they had very little food. We gave them some of ours. They declined. We told them in no uncertain terms that they had to. They accepted. We assessed our situation. I still felt pretty good, and Nate was doing amazing considering he had been carrying two packs since the corkscrew. Jen was in tears, she had some very painful blister issues. My dad was great, Bob and Brandon were ok, and Jon was fading. We split up the troops. Bob and Brandon took off with Jon and the Polish couple, and they went a few minutes ahead of us. I hiked with Jen,  and my dad and Nate traded off carrying Derek's pack. There would be a water station every mile and a half from there on out, and it would be switch backs the whole way.

A snake that crossed our path on the switch backs of the South Rim.

We were within sight of the first water station when I noticed something was really wrong. Bob was standing at Jon's side watching for us. He caught my eye, then took off up the trail leaving Jon sitting on a rock. His eyes were open, but he was not quite lucid. I cautiously said, "Jon, are you ok?" Without blinking or turning his head he said, "I threw up."  His boots and poles were splashed with vomit. He wasn't near the water. I asked if he'd put water in his pack, he said no. We gave him hard candy to suck on, filled his pack and did some shifting. His pack was so heavy! Nate took it. My dad took Derek's.  The trail was still relatively light, but we were going painfully slow. I wondered about Bob, Brandon and the Polish couple. The next mile and a half were agony. Jon was vomiting intermittently,  and at one point Nate had to grab the back of his shirt to keep him from going over the side while puking. Jen was in so much pain it took her breath away. Derek was still cramping and our light was fading. We kept thinking we'd be fine when we got to the water station because they have emergency flash lights there. When we got there, they'd all already been taken. Chuck was there though. What? Chuck what are you doing here? "OH, I just got worried and thought you guys might like some snacks or water. I've been down here once already...." He'd hiked quite a bit that day, and that didn't bode well for his hike out. OH man. At that point my sister and I looked at each other and she made a decision. "I'll go back with the slow pokes," she said, " you run ahead and get flash lights." I started to run. I ran and walked and ran and walked and ran and walked. The sky darkened. Bats swooped my head. I ran and walked. I caught up with Bob and Brandon. They had a light. Would they come on ahead with me? In answer, Brandon vomited. Altitude sickness. Spectacular. I ran on. I emerged to the sound of clapping and congratulations, I was the first one out. I cut them off with my news: We are in trouble. I need lights, like now. I got them, a few juice boxes, and stood at the trail head. I didn't want to go back in there. I called Nate and told him to download a flashlight app, and get Jon's phone out because he already had one. They asked how far from the top they were. I asked for a landmark, and he told me they'd just passed the arch. I asked which one. He groaned. I went back down.

At that point, a man joined me. His name was Eric. He said he was on a flashlight rescue mission as well, and should we go together? I gratefully accepted. About a half a mile down I saw Jon. Alone. Nate had to attend to his father, and Jon couldn't be stopped. He wanted out. I called his name. As he got closer he whispered my name and collapsed on top of me. He's not a small guy. Eric grabbed him and set him on a rock. I gave him juice. I knew he'd puke it up, but he needed it. Then Jen walked up, crying. I gave her some juice and she sobbed, "you read my mind." and kept going. She's so cute. Derek and my dad came next, followed by Nate and his dad, who was also battling altitude sickness. Oh we are a sight, I thought. I took Jon's arm and talked his ear off to get him to put one foot in front of the other.

We made it out. It was 10 pm. The south rim was all but closed. Jon's muscles were seizing and he was still puking. Chuck was too. We drove the Polish couple to their car, listening to them argue and her tell him, "We are not hikers!"  We tried to find the clinic. We even split up on foot to find it. Jon was getting worse by the minute. He kept saying, "Please hurry. Please hurry." I called 911. I told the operator we couldn't find the clinic. She told me the clinic was closed. Then would you mind sending an AMBULANCE, lady? The rangers arrived, chewed us out for going Rim to Rim, did we have any idea how hot it was today? Uh, yeah, I think we have an idea, thanks. Derek was still grunting. "Is he OK?" The rangers asked. "Yeah, he's just cramping."

We split up again. Nate and I followed Jon in the ambulance, and the others headed two hours away to our nice resort hotel in Paige. It was an hour and a half drive for us. We had to wait an hour at the ER, to see if Jon needed to stay over night. He did. He had all the necessary nutrients in his blood, just not water to carry them. We went in search for food. There was only one food place open that we could find, McDonalds. Sick. Those were the best tasting cheeseburgers I have ever had though. We had been up 22 hours, we were sore, and we stank. The last available hotel room in that whole sleepy town was in a disgusting motel 6. We didn't even care. Jon received 3 1/2 liters of fluid and was a whole new man in the morning. Jen said Derek woke up bright eyed and bushy tailed the next morning, he wasn't even sore. Brandon and Chuck likewise. All's well that ends well, I guess. I had nightmares about the trail for a few days. I still feel a little traumatized.

My dusty, dirty legs and feet while waiting in the ER

If you want the mileage rundown of the Rim to Rim trek, check out this link:
http://www.zionnational-park.com/rim-to-rim-grand.htm

Basic cobb

I've decided that the best way to get everyone to eat salad is to make it into a Cobb. It is so dang easy! There are many variations out there, but here's how I make mine.

Romaine, Iceburg and Green Leaf lettuce (1 head each, or half if you don't want it to be HUGE)
Shredded Cheddar Cheese (about a cup)
6-8 hard boiled eggs
1 cup crumbled bacon
1/2 cup fresh corn sliced from the cob (canned or frozen will work, but not taste as good, obviously)
1 chopped cucumber
1-2 chopped avocados (optional)

Wash and chop lettuce to bite size. Layer other ingredients as you please. We've tried this with many different veggie toppings, it always turns out great. The bacon is a must though.  My family likes Ranch dressing best with this, we make our own. It goes like this:

1 C. mayo
1 C. buttermilk
1/4 t. white vinegar
1/2 t. dill
1 t. parsley
1/4 t. garlic powder
1/4 t. onion powder
1 1/2 t. dried (or fresh) chives
1/4 t. seasoned salt
1/8 t. dry mustard
salt and pepper to taste

Whisk together mayo and buttermilk until mixture is lump free. Whisk in remaining ingredients. Refrigerate.

Rosemary Chive Fries

These we didn't do very crispy, but the seasoned salt ones, which I do not have a picture of, were crispier. This is more like a boiled potato texture if you like that. I do.

All summer long I've been trying to perfect home baked french fries. I've tried many variations, but I think this one's my fave. My kids however, liked the season salt and olive oil variation, so take your pick.

You'll need a couple of pounds of red potatoes sliced how you like them. I like slicing them four times lengthwise, then crosswise to get more of a french fry look. You'll need a quarter cup (or less) of olive oil, some fresh chives and rosemary chopped, and some salt and pepper. This is all to taste. Combine the oil and seasonings in a bowl and add the potatoes and stir to coat.

 
Baking is the tough part because it took me forever to find the right temp for my oven for the right amount of time for the crispiness we wanted. I have now determined that either 450 or 475 will work, but plan on at least 30 minutes, and maybe closer to 50 depending on your oven. turn at least once while baking.

What the?? Was that summer that just flew past my face?

In case you were all dying to know: Yes, summer kicked my trash. No I didn't quit running or cooking, but man, did it seem iffy for a while. Let me update you.

At the end of June, Nate and I (together with some friends and family) finally took the adventurous Grand Canyon trip, in which we hiked rim to rim in one day. That story is dramatic and insane so it will be getting it's very own blog post after this one. Two days after that I was still sore, tired, and traumatized. I blame that condition for what happened next. I slammed my finger (yes, I slammed my very own finger) in the car door. As in the car door shut violently with my finger sticking out the side. To this day I don't even know how it happened. Please be advised that the following story contains both graphic descriptions and photos of the injury. Read at your own risk.

The finger burst open and the bone fractured in 3 places. Check out the tip of your ring finger. See how small it is from the top joint to the tip? That's where my bone fractured in 3 places. It sucked. I screamed and stood there for a full 30 seconds. I was holding my 22 month old who also started screaming. My 8 year old then started screaming, "Mom, what's wrong, what happened?" I couldn't speak. In fact, I couldn't even think what to do. It was pain like I'd never known. Finally I came to myself and realized I'd have to put the kid down and open the door. That's right, my finger was still in the door.

At that point I was crying and walking toward the house when the 8 year old saw the blood and went running. Crying himself, he swiftly brought me back.....a tissue. So sweet. So completely insufficient. I could see chunks of the fatty finger pad coming out of the wound. A tissue just wasn't going to cut it. I asked for a wet rag and some ice. Oh, and son? The phone.  After failing to reach the obvious options (Nate and my mother who lives 4 houses away) I proceeded to call everyone I could think of in my neighborhood. Two people were home. Both were sick. I finally got a hold of someone who happened to have a teen home so they could watch my kids (Thank you Sandy and Cassie!) She drove me to the ER, and all the while I thought I might pass out from the pain. Why was I so woozy? Oh yeah, I was too tired that morning to eat breakfast. But guess what? My muscles weren't sore anymore from the Grand Canyon, go figure.

When I arrived at the ER sporting my wet rag, jammies, and flip flops, I was greeted with no one. What the? People! I am BLEEDING! Oh there she is, feeding the fish in the lobby. I said, "Excuse me, I am in need of some medical services for my finger. It's busted open. Also, I feel a little faint." She took one look at me, and hustled me right inside saying we'd take care of signing me in later. I got as far as the triage room before I felt that ominous heat in my face, and loss of strength in my limbs. Uh oh. I told them I didn't feel well, they said they'd get me a chair. I told them......I don't remember.  My oxygen level went from 99 to 38 in about 5 seconds. The next thing I remember is I was feeling much better and I was on a bed. I told them my finger hurt. They looked at me like I was speaking chinese.

Me after they finally cleaned and wrapped the thing. Yes that's a BP cuff and warming blankets. No you may not laugh.

I got to a room and I just remember sitting there so embarrassed. I just kept thinking. I did this. Me. To myself! I got what I can only imagine would have been a frantic phone call from my husband, since I'd left him a horrible text before I got to the hospital. All I could type out was "Heading to the ER". As you can imagine, he was not pleased. However, the grumpy doc wouldn't let me answer my phone, he was too worried about the possibility of losing the tip of my finger. I didn't care about my dang finger. It hurt too bad. All I wanted was a cracker. They wouldn't give me one. 

This was taken 2 days later in the cursed triage room at my infection check. I couldn't take any myself the day of and Nate refused to look at it. You can see why.

Nate arrived. I was Xrayed. The punk kid who came to get me came into my room with a wheel chair and said, "I was told I needed to bring a wheel chair for an X ray of a finger." Yeah, dude. I'm gonna give you a finger in a second. I told him I'd walk. what seemed like hours later (I was soooo hungry) they finally came in and told me the results. They literally gave me the whole good news, bad news routine.The good news was I didn't need surgery, the bad news was it was broken in several places. I don't care, I said, just give me a DA-- cracker! They complied. They really were a nice bunch of people once I charmed them with my sparkling personality. I was in a Percocet induced delirium for a week after that. It was 4 weeks before I could resume running. Do you see why I was a blog slacker?? Please forgive me and my ugly finger. I wasn't typing so well.

This is a few weeks later when it finally started to heal. The outer layer peeled off like a banana. The finger nail didn't come off for over 3 weeks.

Asian Chicken Salad with Soy Peanut dressing

I get a produce box each week from a local dairy farm. Every time there is at least one item at which I frown and think, "Great. What am I going to do with that?" Which, actually I think is the point of the variety. Because then every week I get to learn and experiment. I concoct, or find that someone else has concocted a delicious something or other involving that very thing. It is then posted it online for all the experimenters out there to enjoy. It's been parsnips, rutabaga, radishes, and weird peppers I still can't name. I feel like I'm being educated by a produce box. This week it was cabbage. Along with the cabbage came red peppers and the bells started a ringing. There's nothing like a fresh and flavorful Asian style salad, right? Lucky for me, I found a base recipe for a dressing, which I then promptly changed to fit my whims. I was in a peanut kind of mood, so here is how it went:

1 head of Napa cabbage, shredded
1 head of romaine lettuce, shredded
Some Bak choy leaves, shredded
2 carrots, sliced or shredded
1 red bell pepper, diced
1/8-1/4 cup chives, chopped
1/4 cup cilantro, coarsely chopped
2 cups shredded chicken (I boil mine in ginger and onion, then shred it.)
Sliced lime and chopped peanuts for garnish

Soy Peanut Dressing
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
2 tablespoons (heaping) peanut butter (use creamy unless you have a blender)
1 tablespoon fresh ginger (dried will work in a pinch, or if you don't like the "kick")
1 clove minced garlic
1-2 tablespoons soy sauce
1/2 tablespoon agave nectar (1 T. honey will work also)
2 teaspoons sesame oil
1/4 cup canola or other vegetable oil
salt and pepper to taste

whisk or blend the vinegar, peanut butter, ginger, soy sauce, agave, and oils, season with salt and pepper or additional soy sauce to taste. Add the dressing to the salad and toss. Garnish with lime slices and chopped peanuts.