In which I cook a lot of Mediterranean food

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I spent the day cooking up a feast of Middle Eastern delights, specifically, recipes from Ottolenghi’s cookbook Jerusalem. I normally do all of the weeks’ cooking ahead of time, and I have been getting bored of hard boiled eggs and roasted chicken thighs.

Every week.

Week after week after week.

Also, our CSA vegetables are starting to pile up in the fridge, which is a bone of contention in my marriage. Fortunately, Jerusalem is full of paleo and primal friendly recipes.  Middle Eastern food is, in general, paleo friendly.  Lots of delicious salads and vegetables.  Amazing grilled meat.  Lots of olive oil.  Lots of deliciousness.  And one of the great things about living in the States for a few months is access to high quality ingredients.

First, I needed to get rid of several weeks’ worth of zucchinis. There’s an excellent recipe for zucchini turkey burgers that turned out perfectly. I doubled the recipe, rightly suspecting that everyone in the family would love the flavorful patties.

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Jasmine loved ‘em. Bertrand loved ‘em. And Grace probably will too when I get around to feeding her one. Whole30 complaint.

Next, I had to use up some cubed butternut squash I’d bought thinking to steam for Grace, but had sat in the fridge for a week. Blech. This roasted butternut squash with tahini recipe is also 100% Whole30 compliant.

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So good. I thought I’d have several servings for lunches next week, but we ate it straight out of the oven. Oops. It was delicious. Just as delicious was the leftover lemon tahini sauce, which will serve as dips for vegetables this week. Seriously. Make extra sauce and then eat it with a spoon. it’s that good.

Also, beets. The beets have been sitting in our fridge for almost two weeks now, and they were starting to make Bertrand cranky. I bought a few extras this morning to make sure I’d have enough, which may have been a mistake. Turns out, the beet puree recipe makes about 3 cups of beet dip.

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I ended up adding a lot more yogurt and a lot more za’atar than the recipe called for; however, the recipe was absolutely delicious. Even my weird-food-adverse husband liked it.  And yes, that is one of my kids’ bowls in the photo.  All of my pretty dishes are sitting with our personal effects in Antwerp.  So it goes.

And finally, I made the date syrup called for by the beet puree.

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Soak half a dozen pitted dates in water for a few hours. Reserve the liquid, then blend the dates with an immersion blender, adding reserved liquid as necessary. Easy peasy.

Tomorrow, I’ll finish up with the more mundane parts of the cook-up.  Boiled eggs.  Chicken stock.  Plenty of rice for Bertrand, Grace, and Jasmine to eat over the course of the week.  Not sure I’m a fan of splitting the work up over a couple of days, but for now, I’m happy to be sitting down and blogging instead of working in the kitchen.

Malaria Meds and the Foreign Service

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Malaria.  Yikes.  Scary.  Especially when you have kids.  And for whatever reason, easy to understand information on the options for prophalxis for FS families can be hard to to find.  I got an email a few weeks ago asking my opinion, and since, as my loyal readers know, I am a woman of STRONG opinions, I thought I’d turn the email exchange into a blog post (with my interlocutor’s permission, of course).

Disclaimer: this info is my opinion, definitely not approved by MED, subject to change, and may be wrong.  My opinions are strongly influenced by the years I spent in West Africa previous to joining the State Department.

Malaria is dangerous and scary, more so for children. I’ve had it, Bertrand’s had it, and Jasmine’s had it. When Bertrand and I got it, we weren’t on any sort of malaria prophylaxis; when Jasmine got it, at 13 months, her malaria prophylactic was being administered incorrectly.  In my family, we are (now) religious about giving our kids their prophylaxis.  We will never ever ever leave the administration of medication as important as anti-malarials to the girls’ nanny again.

Malaria can be deadly, and has been for State employees as least recently as 2013.  That said, most malaria in adults (with a few notable and DEADLY exceptions) is usually treatable if you have access to modern medical care and can afford the medication. And, the number one preventer of malaria, world-wide, is sleeping under impregnated mosquito nets.

The kicker about malaria prophylaxis is that they all have side effects. Mefloquine can give you bad dreams, insomnia, and is not recommended for those with a history of mental illness or depression (because it can aggravate them). Doxy causes sun sensitivity and can interfere with birth control. Malarone can cause nausea and diarrhea. And it’s not like many medications, where the side effects are minimal. MOST people experience side effects from one or more prophylaxis.

I can’t take mefloquine. I just … stop sleeping. I get *incapacitating* insomnia. No dreams, no hallucinations, just no sleep. I dislike the sun sensitivity that doxy gives me, and switched to malarone. Luckily, it’s now available as a generic, and has become dramatically less expensive over the last few years. My husband takes mefloquine with NO side effects. Each body is different, and it’s important to take the time to figure out what works for YOU.

There also haven’t been a lot of studies done on the long term effects of most prophylaxis. This isn’t a deal breaker for me or Bertrand, we are, after all, adults.  However, don’t know what that means for my daughters if I pursue my dreams of a career in AF. I’m not sure what the answer is, yet. I *do* know that for our next tour in a malaria zone, both girls will be on malarone, as will I. The solution may be to do tours in Kenya and southern Africa, where malaria is less prevalent.

Oh, woe is me.

So that’s a lot of information. My two cents is that I feel strongly that kids in malaria countries should sleep under impregnated nets AND take their prophylaxis. Two more cents is that adults are adults, but malaria CAN and DOES kill. Certainly, it’ll keep you out of the office for a week or two while you recover.  Currently, the State Department requires all FSOs serving in malaria zones to sign off that they know they’re required to take their prophylactic.  I believe that enforcement varies, but it’s important to know about the requirement before bidding on posts where malaria is endemic.

Malaria sucks.  Don’t get it.

Cuddle monster on the bus

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Jasmine loves selfies
Jasmine loves selfies

 

One of the most frustrating things about long term training in DC is how hard it is to spend real time with my kids. Time that isn’t rushing around getting me ready for work in the morning and them ready for daycare. Time that isn’t cooking or cleaning in the evening. Time that isn’t studying. Time that isn’t frantically running errands. Time that isn’t in the car.

I had previously solved this problem with Jasmine by cuddling her to sleep every night. When it was time for bed, I’d make her a bottle of warm milk, let her put an ice cube in it, then curl up in her bed with her to read and giggle and play until she finally fell asleep. Between the gym and meeting friends for dinners, I don’t get that quiet time with her anymore.

This morning when Jasmine wanted to cuddle on the bus to FSI, I just didn’t have to heart to tell her to sit back down in her seat. I miss spending one-on-one time with her too.

We only have a few months left in DC, and while Bertrand and I have really been too worn down to take advantage of everything this great city has to offer, I hope that over the next several weekends, Jasmine and I will get downtown to visit memorials and museums. I love this city, and I think it’s about time for me to exit from my “OMG I HAVE TWO KIDS UNDER THREE” panic mode. Quality time with my daughter and DC in the summer? Sounds like a plan to me.

Diary of a Fat Crossfitter – Time cap? What time cap?

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Post-Helen Theresa
Post-Helen Theresa

The best way to get one-on-one time with the coaches at my gym box is to finish last. I like to think it’s because the coaches are admiring my determination and fortitude, but I’m pretty sure it’s only because they’re worried Imma hurt myself.

My box appears to have some rhyme and reason to its programming, and part of that is testing. How much can you lift? How fast can you get through this benchmark metcon workout? How far do you have to scale the workouts to complete them under the time cap? How much have you improved since the last time you tested?  I’m happy to be done with benchmark week. I could do the last two workouts in the progression this weekend, but I’m looking forward to a quiet weekend snuggled up with my family and my Arabic flashcards.

This week I’ve discovered that I can deadlift a decent amount for a novice. I still can’t do a single goddamned pushup. And I infinitely prefer ring rows to rope raises.

Also, I have completed zero benchmark workouts under the time cap. Bless the coaches’ hearts, they let me finish anyway.

Diary of a Fat CrossFitter – Things I’ve Been Reading

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It’s “benchmark week” at my box gym, whatever that means. I think it means a lot of pain, but I could be wrong. No, wait, I’m probably right. Expect it to be described in excruciating and profane detail at the end of the week. Until then, here are a few articles that have crossed my radar in the last couple of days.

I offended Melissa McCarthy so you don’t have to

That’s not to say that we should ignore a woman’s size altogether, because as writer Lisa C. Knisely reminds us “the fucking worst thing you can tell a fat girl is that she isn’t fat,” but pointing it out in a cutesy, wink-wink,oh-we-get-it way might serve to make people feel infantilized or emphasize being treated differently. We need to celebrate people’s bodies for the right reasons.

I’m still a fat fucking CrossFitter, don’t you guys worry.

My ‘Naked’ Truth

Naked, I stood at the closet doors with the lights on and made myself ready. I took a deep breath and positioned the mirrors so I could see all of me. I consciously worked to remove my self-believed inner image. I opened my eyes and looked very carefully at my body. And my heart lurched at the truth: I am not a young woman anymore. I am a woman well-lived. My body tells of all the years she has carried my spirit through life.

Perhaps most appalling is her date’s blindness to how hurtful he was.

There are Two Kinds of Fat People

If people have studies that say that everyone going paleo and doing crossfit will save on healthcare costs and be better for the “good of society” do we all have to eat a steak while we flip tires in a garage with no air conditioning? The only good answer to this is that each of us gets to choose how highly we prioritize our health and what path we choose to get there. Public health should be about making information and options available to the public, not making individual bodies the public’s business. If people want to flip tires in an air conditioned gym while eating Kraft singles and wearing a plarn backpack that’s totally their deal, I say rock on.

BONUS NON BODY ACCEPTANCE LINK: I’m loving Cup of Jo’s Motherhood Around the World series. Raising Jasmine, then later Grace, in Freetown was an adventure, but so wonderful. In a world where every day there’s a new story on CNN about something awful happening to a toddler, I’m grateful for the opportunities I’ve had while raising my own wonderful daughters.

P.S. Deadlift PR last night.  It was awesome.

Diary of a Fat CrossFitter – In Translation

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Two friends, both of whom I respect greatly, have shared criticisms of a recent post I wrote about a CrossFit class. Kool-Aid isn’t paleo, but if it were, I’d certainly have drunk it. Instead of promising to write a glossary and then not doing it, I’m just going to provide a (profanity-free*) translation.

I went to CrossFit on Thursday because I looked at the WOD and said to myself, “Running? Partner metcon? FUCK THIS SHIT, I’m staying home.”

I went to the gym on Thursday because I checked out the programmed workout posted online by the gym and said to myself, “A cardio conditioning workout that requires that I run while my partner does another activity, and then we switch back and forth for fifteen minutes? To heck with this! I’m staying home.”

So of course I went, because I’m not about to be like, “Wah wah wah, I only do metcons I like.”

So of course I went, because I’m not about to be like, “Wah way wah, I only do workouts I like.”

And of course, there was neither a partner workout or running, and I was like FUCK YEAH, THURSDAYS ROCK.

And of course, there was neither a partner workout or running, and I was like, YEAH! THURSDAYS ROCK!

And then the coach was like, burpees + thrusters, and I was like, FUCK, I knew I should have STAYED HOME.

And then the trainer was like, squat thrusts + a left that involves a squat + a push press and some explosive force, and I was like, MAN! I should not have come today.

And then I didn’t finish the metcon within the time limit, and I was like, FUCK, it’ll only take me 30 more seconds, might as well finish anyway. So I did.

And then I didn’t finish the cardio conditioning within the time limit, and instead of stopping, I took 30 more seconds to finish.

Sounds like progress to me.

Indeed.

* Future posts will certainly not be profanity free because I am secretly twelve and still think fart jokes are funny. Sorry.

Diary of a Fat CrossFitter – At CFSA, they are apparently called “Scotts”

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funny-girl-running-meme-yellow-coat

I went to CrossFit on Thursday because I looked at the WOD and said to myself, “Running? Partner metcon? FUCK THIS SHIT, I’m staying home.”

So of course I went, because I’m not about to be like, “Wah wah wah, I only do metcons I like.”

And of course, there was neither a partner workout or running, and I was like FUCK YEAH, THURSDAYS ROCK.

And then the coach was like, burpees + thrusters, and I was like, FUCK, I knew I should have STAYED HOME.

burpees_not_ever

And then I didn’t finish the metcon within the time limit, and I was like, FUCK, it’ll only take me 30 more seconds, might as well finish anyway. So I did.

Sounds like progress to me.

Happy Independance Day!

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What an amazing way to celebrate the Fourth. The last time I was in the States for Independence Day, I was in college. Since then, I’ve elebrated as a Peace Corps Volunteer, as an entrepreneur abroad, as a local hire at a U.S. Embassy in Cotonou, in Freetown as the GSO (logistician-in-chief), and now, back in the States as a plain-old-regular American Citizen.

Lemme tell you, it is AMAZING celebrating Independence Day and not having responsibility for the enjoyment of anyone but my family.

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Bertrand with cousins Grace and Austin

We started the day by heading up to MD to have brunch with my parents and my brothers’ family. Trying to get all three families on the same page for major holidays has become a bit of a challenge. We’ve solved it by getting the Carpenters and Sondjos together for breakfast, instead of fighting over whose going to eat lunches and dinner where. Nobody else wants to get up at the ass-crack of dawn to drive to MD, so we never run into traffic, and we never have conflicting plans.

Awesome.

After an amazing (and unphotographed) breakfast, we went outside to let the kids exhaustthemselves. They did. OF COURSE AND THANKFULLY THEY DID.

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You thought his name was, “Bertrand.” Actually, it’s “Jungle Gym.”

On the way back to Crystal City, we saw a ton of people and tents at Long Bridge Park. I thought it would just be folks spreading out blankets to watch the show, but it turns out, there was a huge community event going on!

Except that Jasmine and Grace were fast asleep in the car and neither Bertrand nor I were convinced of their capacity to not turn into disasters before the fireworks started. We made a pact. We would go and have fun, and the moment either one of us thought either one of the kids were about to break down, we’d happily leave and not worry about the fireworks.

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Soccer balls and face painting and food trucks and live music, oh my!  The kids had a blast.  We have been pleasantly surprised at what an effort Arlington and Crystal City are putting into making this area less “soulless suburbia” and more “pleasant neighborhood.”

 

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After walking the entire park (and that thing is huge), Bertrand and I were ready to find a spot in the grass.  I was exhausted.  I’ve been practicing my thruster/ wall ball form with Jasmine all day.  Turns out, you can get some real air on a toddler when you use proper form.  Turns out, a 30 lbs toddler is a lot heavier than the 15 lbs bar I was using last night.  We spread our blankets in the vicinity of a lot of families, and Jasmine had a great time running around like a maniac with other kids while we took a much needed break.  I’d heard previously that a few hundred people would be at the park to watch the fireworks, but last night, there were easily a couple of thousand.  The park was packed.

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“Grace, I am going to read to you!”

Amazingly, we made it until about 8:45. Without whining or screaming, Jasmine turned to me and said, “Maman, I’m TIRED. I want to go HOME.” Who can argue with that? So we packed up, got the kids together, convinced Jasmine to walk instead of being carried, and started making our way out of the park.

While on the long bridge out, we saw fireworks in the distance. We stopped and waited for a few more minutes, but they didn’t start in DC immediately, and Jasmine was turning into cranky pants. Just as we made it out of the park, we heard an explosion in the sky. The show had begun!

I’m so glad we got to see them! Jasmine was enchanted. Lights! In the sky! Over! And over! And over!

Happy Independence Day, America.