(Un) Restricted Decadence

This month Andrew and I decided to go on a strict Paleo diet. For those of you who don't know about Paleo I'm really not the best person to explain it but these guys at Whole 9 do a pretty good job...

 "I eat “real” food – fresh, natural food like meat, vegetables and fruit.  I choose foods that are nutrient dense, with lots of naturally-occurring vitamins and minerals, over foods that have more calories but less nutrition.  And food quality is important – I’m careful about where my meat comes from, and buy produce locally and organically as often as possible.

It’s not a low calorie “diet” – I eat as much as I need to maintain strength, energy and a healthy weight.  In fact, my diet is probably much higher in fat than you’d imagine.  Fat isn’t the enemy – it’s a great energy source when it comes from high quality foods like avocado, coconut and nuts. And I’m not trying to do a “low carb” thing, but since I’m eating vegetables and fruits instead of bread, cereal and pasta, it just happens to work out that way.

Eating like this is good for maintaining a healthy metabolism, and reducing inflammation within the body.  It’s been doing great things for my energy levels, body composition and performance in the gym.  It also helps to minimize my risk for a whole host of lifestyle diseases and conditions, like diabetes, heart attack and stroke."

I've eaten Paleo for a month before as an experiment to see if I had any sensitivity to common gut irritants such as beans/legumes, grains, dairy, and sugar. I realized that in the future I will be recommending elimination diets to patients and I don't want to recommend something I couldn't/wouldn't do myself. After a month I slowly introduced the foods back into my diet to see if I had any reaction to them. It turns out I actually didn't react to any one food group but I just didn't feel as good as I had when I was only eating whole, nutrient dense foods. So when I came back from visiting my family over a three week summer break I wanted to hit the nutritional reset button and get back to my body's happy place. 

We also decided that since we had some extra time on our hands we would start meal planning with the hopes that when school starts we would be seasoned pro's and be able to cut down cost and food waste. We started off just making a list of meals we already eat and several that we wanted to learn how to make. These mostly consisted of dinner dishes which we planned to make enough of that we could have left overs for lunch the next day. We also had about three or four breakfast options that we could rotate through depending on our schedules. Amazingly enough we found that even though we were buying high quality meats and organic vegetables our grocery bills were cut by about 30-40%. Admittedly we both spend the largest majority of our budget (besides rent) on food, but it's not a priority I'm willing to compromise on.

The meals have been absolutely amazing and I think we have both become far better cooks. We have experimented with recipes I never would have attempted before like The Domestic Man's Rogan Josh and aloo gobi. 

There have also been shockingly easy recipes like this smoked pork, which was made by adding liquid smoke and salt to a pork shoulder and letting it cook in a crock pot for 14 hours. Also from The Domestic Man. The grilled veggies and pineapple are my own recipe thank you very much!

I also took advantage of some local blueberries from the farmers market to make blueberry pancakes with coconut flour. Recipe courtesy of Leigh from Crossfit Rebels. Mornings before class are not my strong suit so I forgot to take pictures... hell i'm proud I actually got up to make pancakes multiple times instead of the usual eggs and veggies. I can just tell you they were delicious and a great justification for me buying an entire half flat of blueberries.

Most excitingly I conquered my life long fear of making poached eggs when I made Domestic Man's (ok I admit it I may have a foodie crush on the man) eggs benedict with smoked salmon and grilled bell peppers. 

I have to say our month of restriction has been absolutely wonderful. We've gotten to enjoy local summer goodies, spent time in the kitchen and at the grill learning what not to do, saved enough money on groceries so that we can indulge in a couple bottles of wine, and spent many nights on the porch enjoying nature and each other's company. 

Refrigerators and Other Blessings

Theres a new saying in my life, "We have a refrigerator."Andrew will look up from whatever he's reading, smile and nod and repeat, "We have a refrigerator" and go back to reading. He knows that I have just stopped myself from having a private pity party and am currently feeling extremely blessed by all that we have.
A few months ago in the midst of our last finals week of our first year of med school we were headed to our favorite coffee shop in Phinney Ridge with the barista that makes the drinks perfect every time and always plays music appropriate for studying. We were listening to Radio Lab on the way there and they were recanting the story of an escape artist who would habitually steal things, go to jail, escape and hide out for awhile until he was either found or stole something else.
He started stealing as a child when he was so poor and neglected that he and his brothers and sisters would eat paper to fill they're bellies enough for the hunger pains to go away so that they could sleep. He would sit on a hill with his brother and dream about stealing a car and driving them away from all of it to a better life. So one day he did, steal a car that is. This was the start of his lifelong habit of stealing moving vehicles. He started naming off every type of automotive he's stolen in his life time, everything from tractors to semi trucks and even once the tour bus of country singer Crystal Gayle. In between thefts he would return home to his wife and daughter. At one point in the story they interviewed his wife about life with him and why she stayed with him. She described a time in their marriage where he held down a job and promised not to steal anymore, "Things were good for awhile" she said, "We had a trailer that didn't have wheels and a refrigerator."
Here I was lamenting the fact that I had to spend yet another day studying and drinking coffee in a warm dry place across the table from the guy I love who on occasion reaches across the table to hold my hand and somewhere a woman is reminiscing on the time in her life when she had a refrigerator. Now I try to remind my self that I have a life others only dream of. I get to go to med school, I get to clean my house, I get to make dinner and clean my dishes. We have a refrigerator and life is wonderful.

Gross Anatomy: Poetry Hour

So the president of the university read this at our cadaver memorial last night. It should have been inappropriate but somehow he made it classy. He has a way of doing that. Had to share. More about the memorial to come after I'm done stressing about finals...


Gross Anatomy without a Lover or
There's Only So Many Times You Can Palpate Your Own Sternal Angle or Take Your Own Femoral Pulse

Another Trudge Home Tuesday
Formaldehyde Fume Day
Chicago chill seeps through windows
greets me
treats me
to another welcome home
ALONE

Alone -
with no lover.

You see I've never been one to ask for much
never been one to compile mile long wish lists
never been one to confuse God with Santa Claus
And yet
Yet
These days
I amaze myself
find my neck crane towards the heavens
as my mind wanders
wonders
whether a lover at home
is too much to ask for.

A Lover.
A reason to scrub my body raw after lab
replace fetid stench with sweet scent
for a lover's beloved nose
A lover
A reason to eat more than a can of Progresso Minestrone
or a box of mac n cheese with fake meat at night
A lover
At home
To drive away the alone.

"Some Lovers Try Positions That They Can't Handle."
I could totally work with that!

Lover, you'd be my anatomical muse
I'd use water colors, body paints
Magic mark you up
number each vertebra
trace each rib
You think I'd forget your inguinal ligament?
You see, this is a case of need
A case of academic necessity
With a lover at home
My mind would rewind/stop/slow motion/re-play
Lieska back to a speed
where I didn't feel I need to BE on speed
to understand
See my mind would rewind
stop/slow motion/play again
all the details
I'd comb through lectures
sift them through a sieve
to find you the nuggets


Lover, my fingers would trace lines
on your iliac spine
I'd recall the ASIS and pubic tubercule
lie on the same plane
important for orientation
and if that got real boring
I'd create a story
about a ballerina named Lulu
in her pretty pink tutu
who injured her plantaris muscle
on a particularly difficult pirouette
or I'd grab your heel
reveal the details of the River Styx
Achilles and his ultimate vincibility





Oh Lover!
I would regale you with
stories of muscles, of tendons
sweep hands over your iliopsoas
tell you if you were a cow
that would be filet mignon
my palms would cover broad swaths over smooth back
teach you trapezius
deltoid rhomboid
sternocleidomastoid
I'd draw a circle
on your triangle of auscultation
to remind me where the stethoscope goes


My ear resting on your T4 dermatome
I'd listen to
I'd listen to
I'd listen to more than valves closing
more than lubs
more than dubs
I'd listen to the poetry
your heart writes every day


Because you'd think
afternoons and evenings
of cold bodies
of latex gloves and plastic bags over faces
endless scraping and scalpels
rigid joints, stiff skin
you'd think that in a moral universe
in a moral universe
the only just reward
for a cadaver cold body
would be a warm one
waiting for me at home.

Dipti Barot, Chicago, Class of 2006
Originally published in Vol. XIX: 2003

Captives Log, June 5th

It's pouring.

Yes, you read that right it's June 5th and it's pouring. Like full on rain jacket with hood required, pouring. In other words it's a morning for oatmeal and hot tea. Now that's not to say I don't eat oatmeal when it's not raining, I eat it about half the mornings of the week. But today especially calls for oatmeal. When I was a little girl my mom used to wake up early on rainy mornings and make us oatmeal, of course in those days it was loaded with brown sugar and butter and a little bit of milk around the edges. Most kids hate oatmeal, but those were my favorite mornings. It might even be why I love the rain so much (sorry mom you might be a contributing factor to me moving to Seattle). 

So this morning I made my oatmeal and loaded up with cinnamon, coconut oil and xylitol (I've been off sugar for over 8 weeks) and added my secret ingredient... salt. Who knew that optional pinch on the recipe on the back of the Quakers box was actually a good idea. I also made myself a cup of Earl Grey tea. I learned the other day that Early Grey is supposedly a grandmother tea, meaning only grandmothers drink it. This kinda makes sense, I've always known I was an old soul... If only I had time to get my needlepoint out (not kidding).

Regardless as I sit here watching the rain fall, and savoring my tea and oatmeal, I'm a kid again. I'm curled up on my couch with the people I love most in the world with the rain as my soundtrack. They were rare times in Southern California and I treasure them now perhaps just as much as I did then. 

Dancing with my Heart (If Only I Can Get My Head to Shut Up)

This weekend I went to a wedding, which was absolutely beautiful and filled with so much love. Not just between the bride and groom but also from their families who were obviously so full of pride and love and joy that these two people had found their partner in life.

There were many things to be in awe of, from the gorgeous location on the edge of Lake Washington to the mashed potato martini bar with toppings (yes there was bacon), but the thing that struck me most was the stunning display of white boy dancing. Which I’m proud to say my boyfriend, his brother and their brother from another mother were the center of. While I tried my best to follow along I was clearly out of my league and down right jealous. How I envied their ability to immerse themselves so completely in the enjoyment of dancing that they forget to be self conscious. Or perhaps they’re simply not self conscious. Perhaps they have realized that people are looking at them with wonder and admiring their bravery and freedom. Maybe they just don’t care at all. Have they mastered the ability to be so completely present in the action that thoughts of anything else don’t enter their mind in that moment. Can they simply feel and move in response? Do they realize what a feat that is? 

There are very few times that I am capable of doing this and it’s usually when no ones watching. But put me on a dance floor in a room of people and the best I can do is try and experience small snippets of time where my mind becomes completely immersed in the experience and my body is left to its own devices. Then of course I realize that it’s happened and I’m back to thinking about it. 

I'm not really sure how to get to that point but I'm trying. I feel theres going to be a lot of random dance parties in my room from now on... maybe one day I'll let someone watch. 

Why Does Happiness Have to Be Balanced by Sadness?

The sun kept trying to come out today, but it never really seemed to get warm. I'm not sure if the weather has anything to do with my mood the past couple of days, but I sure do wish the sun would come out and shine a little light on us all.

I'm constantly amazed how I can go from so happy and full of love for life to sad and lonely in a week. I'm tired of pretending to be happy on those days when I'm not. Is it ok to just say... I'm sad today. Please come make it better. I'd like a sign that says, "I need a hug". Well this is my sign. For the past couple of weeks I have felt such a disconnect from those around me. I'm surrounded by people all the time. I have 9 room mates and 100 classmates that I see everyday and yet I feel entirely separate from them. What do you do when you feel that sense of disconnect?

Run Like No Ones Watching

When I moved to Washington in September I immediately fell in love with my new home. I live in a forest, well a state park to be more exact. I have the privilege of stepping out my front door and walking ten steps and disappearing into the woods. If I go a few more steps I find my self on a steep, winding, often muddy path leading down to Lake Washington. Needless to say I haven't run on a road in months. 

Last Saturday was one of the most beautiful days we've had here in Seattle, and after months of rain I couldn't wait to pull on some shorts, yes shorts... day glow legs be damned... and run down to the lake. It was amazing! The great thing about running down trails is that it doesn't feel like work. Your too busy trying to figure out where to plant your feet next to worry about your breathing or anything else for that matter. Thinking is nearly impossible. You just fly. Now I understand and appreciate all you yogi's and runners that rejoice in paying attention to your breathing and your awareness of your body and all that, but for me not being able to concentrate on how I feel or analyze what I'm thinking is a welcome gift. It's a time to just be. To just exist. There will be plenty of time to contemplate existence later. Like when your trudging back up the hill for instance. 

I had hoped to go for a swim when I got to the lake but the shoreline was full of people who I'm sure didn't want to have to explain to their kids why, "that girl is swimming in her underwear"so I kept kept going along the shoreline looking for a more secluded spot. Unfortunately this is where the trail ends and I found myself ducking under branches and scaling fallen trees. I really don't mind the end of the trail in the least, it's usually far more interesting, especially since the stinging nettle is thriving. I discovered a moss covered tree leaning 20 feet out over the water and a tiny beach just perfect for one. Unfortunately the water was bone-chilling cold, so that swim is going to have to wait a few weeks. I walked barefoot back to the trail head until my feet had dried and then laced up my shoes for the aforementioned trek back up. 

This trek is actually only about half a mile, but my calf muscles insist the sign is lying. I usually walk up and convince myself that the scenery is too pretty to run past, but that day I ran every bit I could. Since I've started running these trails I've come to find that I approach them in the same way I do life. Run the parts I can and walk the ones I can't. I take breaks to breath and admire the depth of God's love in the world around me. Most importantly when I get the chance to fly... I take it.