The Russians are Coming, The Russians Are Coming! - Pantry Pollo Stir Fry

Really, I don't get it.

What particular interest does the former USSR have in my little blog? This isn't the first time my blog statistics have revealed the Russian adoration for a blog that is usually seen by maybe 35 people on a good day. Right now the Russians are beating the Americans, which is never a good sign. Any techie-type folks out there who might have an answer? Please send me a clue, because I clearly don't have one.

Today is Tuesday and it promises to be as painful as the four immediately preceding it. Forget laundry, unpacking, cleaning up after the pets, or even knitting; all I can think about is whether I have the energy to get into the shower. Yeah, it's that bad. My mood is in the dumpster.  

My arms don't have the strength to hold knitting needles, but even if they did, my hands are shaking too badly to even attempt it. With a lacy-type pattern, that's an invitation to hysteria, wherein I melt down faster than eighties-style cheap acrylic yarn near a cigarette lighter.

I still can't contemplate cooking and I fear I am getting to the point where my family may just starve. It's true that I can live on soup from Wawa and Little Debbie's cakes, but my two martial artists need a little bit more than that, and the rotisserie chicken from Publix is just a fond memory. Good thing I had some beef stew in the freezer, but even my frozen stores are winding down.

Wednesday isn't shaping up to be any better. I have no choice but to leave my house today, which is both good and bad. Bad because my entire body hurts and all I want to do is head back to bed. Good because I have a necessary appointment with the individual who has been helping me keep my head attached for the past 18 years, and because I have to pick up a chicken if my family is ever going to eat again.

I've decided to throw together a chicken stir fry for my Hungry Men, "throw together" being the operative phrase. I tried to find an actual recipe to follow, but my eyes are playing tricks on me and my brain is stuck in neutral. In other words, I left my ability to comprehend the written word back on the cruise ship. I'll certainly be contacting Carnival's lost and found department but until then I'm going to wing it. That means no shopping list - too stressful - with the majority of the ingredients coming from the depths of my pantry. I have a rather impressive collection of Chinese-type ingredients stored there, and now would be a really good time to dig them out.

And now it's Thursday, and I did cook last night and it has cost me dearly. My head, neck, and shoulders are not responding to the Advil, and my rheumatologist doesn't want me taking the Advil anyway (because of my gastric bypass) so my pain-killer options have been reduced to zero. The rest of me hurts also, but not quite to the same degree. Just enough that getting out of bed to use the bathroom was a tough choice, and walking downstairs to get some coffee took an act of will on par with sitting for the bar exam.

Lately I've been super hypersensitive to heat and cold and sound. I happen to live on a somewhat noisy corner, but that has never bothered me in the past. I've almost always lived in very close proximity to an airport, including 17 years right next to JFK - now that's noisy! - and then there were those years I lived in my parent's house fronting Kings Highway. Noisy city buses, belching smoke and squealing brakes, and of course there was a stop on the corner closest our house. Trust me, my current location doesn't even come close, but because of the fibromyalgia everything is unreasonably amplified, and that includes voices, television, and the sounds normally associated with dogs and cats. You know, woof and meow and incessant scratching. Doors being opened and closed; remember, part of this building is an office and there is a lot of door repositioning, as it were. Audible pain, it sucks.

Here is the recipe and it turns out I didn't use a darn thing from my pantry. Frankly, I couldn't have opened any cans or sliced my own vegetables if my life depended on it. Bad enough I had to cut the chicken. Just so you know, I used an electric wok, which has a nonstick interior and comes with a lid. The boys report that this turned out rather tasty. I wouldn't know, I'm still subsisting on Wawa soup.

Ingredients:
Cooking oil (canola, vegetable, peanut, corn)
1 bottle or jar pre-chopped garlic
Salt, pepper, granulated garlic, ground ginger
2 pounds chicken tenderloins, crosscut into squares
2 - 8.8 oz. bag a Uncle Ben's Ready Rice, Teriyaki Style
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 - 12 oz. bag Pero brand Fajita Mix
1 - 12 oz. bag Eat Smart brand Vegetable Stir Fry
1 - 20.75 oz. bottle Panda Express Orange Sauce (available in supermarkets)

Season the cut-up chicken with the salt, pepper, granulated garlic and ground ginger and set aside. Add a few tablespoons of the oil to a very hot wok, and then add the rice. Stir fry for several minutes to get rid of excess moisture and until the rice is lightly browned. Remove it to a serving dish and keep warm. Add a little bit more oil to the wok and cook the egg, stirring constantly while spreading it out so the pieces are somewhat thin. Break up the cooked egg into small pieces and scoop them on top of the fried rice.

Add several tablespoons oil and a tablespoon (or more) of the chopped garlic. Cook for just a few seconds then add the contents of the vegetable stir fry bag. You put this in first because the broccoli takes a little longer to cook. Stir fry for several minutes, then add the fajita mix. Continue to stir fry together until the vegetables are as tender or crisp as you like them. Because I like even my stir fry vegetables to be more tender, I added about 1/4 bottle of the orange sauce and put the lid on the wok for a few minutes more. When the vegetables are done to your liking, remove them from the wok, either to a separate serving dish or on top of the rice.

Finally, heat a little more oil in the wok and add the seasoned chicken. Stir fry until chicken is cooked through and browned slightly. Add the remaining orange sauce and cook until the sauce reduces a bit and the chicken has a glossy appearance. You may want to cover the wok for just a few minutes at some point near the end of cooking to ensure that the chicken is completely cooked but tender. Add the finished chicken and all of the sauce to the vegetables. Serve and enjoy immediately.

It looks to me like this can serve six to eight.  And although it was ridiculously easy as wok cooking goes, you've got all fresh vegetables and chicken in there, and the prepared ingredients are good quality additions. I do think this dish lends itself to personalization - a handful of cashews, a small can of well-drained pineapple tidbits, some slices of jalapeño or another hot pepper, the smallest grape tomatoes you can find. You get the idea.

P.S.: Something has gone terribly wrong with either my iPad or Blogger or Safari, and I am unable to establish a link to my photos to insert them here. Will work on it, ha.

When Homebound Becomes Housebound

You all know what happens - after spending a gorgeous week on your favorite beach (St. Croix, in case you were wondering) or cruising the Caribbean while sipping chilled wine (Italian Moscato, very fine) or seeing the sights in your favorite go-to vacation city (Savannah, oh the food and the architecture!), you return home and promptly collapse. It doesn't matter if you never moved from that pool deck chair or rappelled down into the Grand Canyon, you are going to collapse. No matter if you have to report into work at 8:00 the next morning or are retired and can sleep a little later - you are going to collapse, and worse, you are going to feel like you never had a vacation.  Bam!

For me, crossing time zones has always been a problem, and I happen to live in a state with two time zones. A road trip to Panama City Beach for a taekwondo event could whack me out for a week, even though I did not participate in the event. Flying, which I used to undertake easily and joyfully has crept onto my list of Worst Nightmares. Sometimes I think I am still recovering from a return flight I made from Greece in 2005.

So it was no surprise to me when I managed to shuffle off the ship and into our car parked at the Port of Miami, and thereafter crashed into a deep sleep for most of the drive to Kissimmee. This is, we all agree, normal behavior for many post-vacationers. I passed out in Sunrise and awoke only after we crossed over the border at Yeehaw Junction. We made it home, Rob unloaded the car, we cleaned up after our rowdy four-legged children, and I fell back to sleep. I was, by now, in considerable pain (you don't think I left the fibromyalgia on the ship, did you?) which withstood several different kinds of medication, and sleep was my only option unless I wanted to stay awake, moaning piteously. No way. Besides, I couldn't keep my eyes open.    

So here it is, The Day After, and I am back in the position of gathering spoons for my upcoming week. Today I am going to unpack, which is going to take me a ridiculous amount of time because I am moving about like a crippled turtle. And then, if I have any shred of energy left, I am going to knit some more on the Branching Fern Scarf.

I generally don't have a great deal to celebrate, but permit me a bit of pride over my stick-to-it-ness to this project, the result of some deep thinking during the weeks I cleared and organized a yarn stash dating back to the Nixon administration. Since I committed to finishing the UFOs in my closet, I have knocked off several pairs of socks and made major progress on the scarf. Normally I would have gotten distracted and started a shawl or something, but I did not, at least not after a stern talking-to or two I had with myself while perusing Ravelry.

While on the ship, the knitting was everything I hoped it would be: personally fulfilling, enjoyable, and relaxing. Which caused me to wonder, and not for the first time, why don't more people knit? (Or crochet - same lovely benefits!) Up until the sixth day of a seven day cruise, on a ship with several thousand passengers, I did not see one other person knitting! Knitting is not incompatible with cruising or television-watching, or even reading (audio books, folks). If I am not chatting with Robert or screaming at a basketball game, or keeping most of my political opinions to myself, I like to listen to music while I knit. Of course you have to pick just the right music and I have several playlists that enhance the knitting experience. You should try it. Knit, crochet, even needlepoint (which I love but find difficult on the eyes). Do something with your hands besides exercising your thumbs while texting or checking Facebook. Dig down deep to find your unused creativity. Go for it.

Yes, I realize you may be a bit embarrassed to ask for my help in learning how to knit, or perhaps you are hesitant to intrude into my fibromyalgic nightmare, or are faced with the sad reality that we live 1,156 miles from each other making a series of pleasant afternoons drinking coffee and learning how to slip-knit-pass-slip-stitch-over a bit difficult. I could point out that the year is 2016 and there is Skype and there is FaceTime if you would like to ask me for real-time assistance, but if you are an introvert like me who does not like to display my lack of coordination even to my nearest and dearest, there are books and there is the Internet with limitless search engine possibilities including glorious sites like Ravelry, Pinterest, and Knitty. No one need ever know that you dropped a stitch 10 rows down or that you can't figure out a way to wrap the yarn around your finger so that it flows evenly to morph into completed stitches, or that your stitches are so tight that the aluminum needles have been bent into a 45 degree angle. I certainly kept these little problems a secret all these years.

Seriously, if you have been thinking about trying to knit or crochet, I would be more than happy to point you in the right direction (regretfully, my lesson-giving days are over.)  I can even guide you through all the bad parts, like finding out you don't knit English or Continental, that you are neither a thrower or a picker, that you really do knit weird, and there is even a name for it.  If you want to crochet, I can help there also.

Sometime this week I hope to return to cooking. Standing has been problematic, but I'm working on it. The keys to success are the gathering of spoons and muscle relaxers, but figuring out a way to sit while chopping onions has crossed my mind.

As to this Day After, when all was said and done I did not unpack one thing, not even a little thing. Instead I let my backache be my guide and stayed upstairs in my room, mostly with my feet up, and quietly gathered spoons. And I don't feel guilty, not a jot or a tittle, because chronic pain is no frelling joke and besides I needed a few extra spoons in case I decide to do laundry...

... What was I thinking? Laundry? Cooking? Really? Two more days since I wrote that and I've spent them practically incapacitated, sitting on the bed feet up when I'm not passed out. Arms too tired to hold knitting needles, legs too tired to support me for a little Tai Chi practice, and all-over pain that prevents me from sitting downstairs to watch the NBA play-offs. Now you know it's bad.

And I still haven't unpacked.

A Week on Cruise Control and Not Yo Mama's Mama

First, the cruise.

We sailed out of Miami on the Carnival Glory, our first time on that particular ship. The itinerary was a blend of old and new, so with four stops we decided to sign up for shore excursions at the two new locations, Amber Bay in the Dominican Republic, and San Juan, Puerto Rico. That meant two days at sea plus two days in port (St. Thomas and Grand Turk) wherein we stayed onboard. Staying onboard is a big part of our vacation; having the ship mostly to ourselves, picking our favorite seats to hang out, read, knit, and sample the different food venues. Most importantly (to us, at least) the food was fabulous. Yes I said fabulous. On a Carnival ship, no less. The only items that were less-than-successful were the frog's legs (sauce was oddly bland) and the corn bread that accompanied my frankly fabulous barbecue ribs. The rest of the food (and we ate a lot) was prepared perfectly. The desserts and baked goods were utterly sublime. Way to go, Carnival!  

Both of our shore excursions were extremely enjoyable. We have traveled around the Carribbean a number of times and taken many excursions where we climbed onboard a nice, cool tour bus to see and hear about the particular island - it's history, people, economics, infrastructure, and food. Somehow I never gave a coherent thought to the Big Picture involving the aboriginal peoples, the not-so-pristine actions of Christopher Columbus, the Spanish Catholic royalty, the Dutch, and a couple of wars we never really studied in the Lawrence-Cedarhurst school district. I've always  admired the various styles of architecture, but never really thought about the "how?" and the "why?". And although I have gotten into the habit of thinking of Puerto Rico as a southern outpost of Florida, our tours of Old San Juan and Amber Cove consolidated the rich back story of the Caribbean in my admittedly cognitively-impaired head.  Loved every minute.

These photos are from Amber Cove in the Dominican Republic. Then came Old San Juan, but by that point, I was seriously wearing down, and left all of the picture-taking to Robert. Once he gets a chance to download them from camera to computer, I'm going to steal a few to share with the blog, but until them, I did snap just a couple from our stop at Princessa for lunch:

Mojitos and mofongo - one of the best lunches ever.

In addition to being our annual post-tax season cruise, this was a celebratory cruise. Robert turned 70, an exceptionally special birthday, plus we had an anniversary fall out during the week. I was all about making the birthday special and had made some arrangements via the Internet prior to sailing; cake and room decorations, a bottle of wine and glasses, and all the birthday cards a dad could want. To our surprise, Carnival got in on the act, birthday and anniversary, possibly because we are at their frequent cruiser platinum level. Extra cake, messages on the mirror, special towel animals, cookies (really good cookies), champagne and a special dessert at our Steakhouse dinner, and I probably forgot something. Thank you, Carnival. It was all rather wonderful.

Of course the fibromyalgia came along for the ride, but I managed. Moved at a comfortable (read: slow) pace, maintained a positive emotional attitude, took my prescribed medications faithfully, took all time necessary to rest and relax. I napped often, put my feet up when I wasn't using them for walking, knit comfortably on one project that was just the right degree of complexity to avoid causing me to rip the yarn off the needles in crazed frustration and hurl big handfuls into the nearest garbage pail (don't giggle; my knitting experience in South Korea was less than stellar, resulting in my leaving piles of shredded bulky red yarn all over Korea except in Busan. That was only because we didn't stop in Busan.)

And perhaps most importantly, I practiced my Tai Chi, at least as much as I could remember. Tai Chi has really helped me live with fibromyalgia; look, there's no cure, medical, pharmacological, or otherwise. All I can do is find what works for me and use it to obtain a few more lower-pain hours and to keep the really dark depression a little bit at bay. This is where Tai Chi shines. My memory is still crashed and my overall cognitive ability just ain't what it used to be (and will never be again) but I can calm myself when I feel a panic attack coming on, or focus better, at least for a short while.

It was a very good cruise, I can't emphasize that enough.

Lots of birthdays this week! Yesterday was my cousin Steve's birthday, and I am sure his beautiful family celebrated accordingly, with much joy and laughter and cake. Gotta have cake.  I truly believe that the measure of a man is what kind of family he has helped to make, and Steve is at the top of that list. I wish I had known you while growing up, but I am so happy I did find you. Happy birthday cuz, and may you have many more happy and healthy birthdays.

Today is my sister's birthday, which still feels strange (but very nice) to be able to write. Happy birthday, Nora! So glad I found you and so grateful to your daughter/my niece, for helping to put us in contact. Have a wonderful day and a blessed year.

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. Lilacs are blooming in my hometown of Brooklyn as they always do in time for Moms Who Live In The Northeast. I miss lilacs so much. A relatively new phenomenon, public declarations of love and appreciation are all over my Facebook News Feed. So many of my friends and relatives have been posting lovely photos of their mothers and it is very clear that those mothers are much-loved and in some cases, missed terribly. I think all that sentiment is absolutely heartwarming but also terribly foreign to me. I don't understand people who proudly announce that their mother is their best friend. As long as I can remember, my mother was my worst nightmare.

Don't get me wrong; I am truly happy for my friends and family who have clearly experienced the type of childhood I never imagined existed. I won't deny there is a twinge of envy there. Okay, maybe more than a twinge. At the same time, I am woefully aware that my experience is not unique. Toxic parents like my mother have sadly left a trail of tears and huge therapy bills.

But then there are mothers-in-law and I've got the best. Thanks for everything these past 45 years, Mom. Happy Mother's Day, with love.

Mother's Day will always be a mixed bag for me, with the very best part being that I am the mother to the Best Son in The World. All grown up now, but still my crowning achievement as a human being. So many wonderful characteristics that sheer modesty prevents me from recounting them all; however, I can tell you how I did it: I simply did everything the opposite of how my mother raised me. Worked like a charm.

                                                           

This Time I Know It's For Real

For the first time since I acquired my iPad Pro, I feel like it is a wonderful, useful extension of my fingers. My Zagg Slim Book finally arrived from Amazon, and if first impressions count for anything, this is even better than the Zagg keyboard I had for my last iPad, which served me extraordinarily well for years and years.

There was no Zagg case for sale when the iPad Pro first arrived, so I bought a much cheaper keyboard case through Amazon. Within a day I realized I was saddled with a real POS; within two days, the iPad had jumped free of the case and landed on the tile floor. There was damage to the corner of the glass protector and I was pissed. Eventually it became so difficult to use that damn keyboard that I avoided using my iPad. When the Zagg Slim Book became available I bit the proverbial bullet, paid the steep price and here we are. You get what you pay for.

Over the past few days I've had another flare, and my normal bad got worse, a lot worse.  Never mind the details, you've all seen my ubiquitous complaints.

So today is now Thursday, April 28th and I have made it past yesterday's eye evaluation - yes, it is cataracts, yes, we can schedule surgery as soon as we get an approval letter from my insurance company, yes, it will take about a month - I figure the first surgery will be in July, which is after the disability hearing. I'm good with that. Besides, I got the good news there was no retinal detachment.  My eyes got dilated in the process, which put an end to any driving I might have wanted to do yesterday, which meant no therapist, which was unfortunate because I was feeling unbearably cranky and trying so hard not to turn it on Robert and Cory.  I sort of yelled at Romeo and Anakin though, and I feel a little guilty.            

The days are starting to get jumbled for me as I move closer to our cruise. There is stuff one has to do before leaving for a vacation but it just seems this time there was a lot more stuff than usual. Having done all my gathering, it is time to pack. I don't mind packing, but it does leave me exhausted.

I want to pack today, but I promised myself that if I did nothing else I would finish a certain bracelet and earrings to match and bring them to the post office to be sent off for a certain birthday. Just when I thought it was all ready to go I got a brainstorm and made two additions.  It pulled the whole thing together. In typical Cindy-style, I forgot to take a picture before I sealed the box, and all I have is this shot from several days ago.

The theme is Sisters, and this is a birthday present for my sister who I have never met. We have a father in common, and I think I've told the story of finding my father's side of my family at an advanced age - I was 60 - and learning that I'd had four siblings beside the brother I grew up with. Sadly, three of the four had passed away years before, but I was fortunate to find, and with the help of her daughter, my niece Rachel, make telephone contact several times.

I added an angel charm and a beautiful sky blue and cloudy white bead in memory of our youngest sister, who died of breast cancer almost 30 years ago. I also made some drop earrings to go with the bracelet and tucked in a couple of those cotton face cloths.

Without a common upbringing, and without being able to see each other on a regular basis, and you know I hate the bloody telephone, it's been hard to build a relationship. Anyway, I knew her birthday was coming up and I decided to send her a little something. All I have to do is get this little box to the post office because if it fits, it ships, and this box is stuffed to the gills. I hope she likes everything because truly it was made with love.

(She liked her gifts!)

So then, I did not post this before we left on our cruise nor at any time during our cruise, and now it is Saturday, May 7th, and we are back from our cruise, back from Miami, sitting in our personal chairs and recovering from 8 days off our regular schedule. It was a lovely vacation, one of the nicest cruises we've taken. Details to follow.

Gonna Take You To Electric Avenue

A new manifestation of the fibromyalgia has been plaguing me these last 4 weeks, and I am more than a little upset. Electric shocks in my arms, hands, toes, but especially my fingers have made it difficult to type, scroll down an iPad or iPhone, hold a book, or even knit. Besides the constant discomfort, the hands and fingers jerk and twitch, causing me to make numerous mistakes. I also find my hands and arms are totally lacking in strength. It is unreasonably tiring to chop an onion, or hold objects in my hand without risking having them slip out and drop to the nearest surface.

I have trouble keeping my head upright; this has been getting worse over a long period of time. Also I recently read that eye pain, floaters and flashing lights are associated with fibromyalgia and of course I have those as well. They can occur due to other conditions, but apparently the fibromyalgia can make them worse. I have an appointment with an eye specialist on Wednesday to address the cataracts that were seen by the optometrist last month; maybe he can check on the floaters and flashes as well.

I am feeling emotionally battered by the constant physical deterioration, and that's no lie.

I figure it is taking me twice as long to type, since I always have to back track to add missing letters and to make other corrections. Add in a factor for time spent searching for a forgotten word or name and I am hopelessly slowed down. When I was still working, I would type one or two sentences of a petition or final judgment, stop to correct them, then put my head down on the desk because I was totally lacking energy and mental clarity. If I think back to my working days (no easy task as much of that is a mental blur) I remember my arms feeling too heavy to stay in position on the keyboard, and everything slumping down off the keyboard and onto my lap.

It may seem silly, and even petty, to bitch about my difficulties with crafts and hobbies, but those  activities are critical to my well-being, physically and mentally. Pre-fibromyalgia I had very good fine-motor coordination; now knitting and bead jewelry are literally slipping out of my grasp.

For those reasons, I was gratified to actually finish two of the six bracelets I had planned for, and it only took me 3 weeks. That's called sarcasm. But I am rather pleased with how they look and I hope the recipients like them as well.

Despite feeling rather grim, last week was a really fine one for me.  Getting to watch Emeril cook and kibbitz on the stage in front of me was a thrill. I learned so much from him over the years, about cooking and food in general. His show was so good, and watching him do his shtick in person reminded all of us that the present evening line-up on Food Network just ain't what it used to be. Not even close.

I am also the proud owner of one autographed cookbook. The book signing was an uber-speedy, well-choreographed blur, but there was still time to exchange pleasantries as I watched him write my name and his name on the same page. Yeah, I'm a fangirl.

Bam!