Ten More Pedals

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My family and I lived near the center of a small, western Massachusetts town for ten years. The center of the town perched on top a steep hill. The road running north and south was Jabish Road. We all dubbed the hill, Jabish Hill. It is a very steep hill that stretches for nearly a half mile on either side of the center of the town.

We were a physically active family. If we weren’t walking, or hiking in a nearby state area, we were riding our bicycles. Riding our bicycles up Jabish Hill taught me a lesson that stays with me today and sustains me in times of struggle.

When I took our five daughters bicycle riding, I rode in the rear keeping an eye on them and hollering out directions – they might say commands or orders. The one ride they didn’t like was a circle route that ended up with us cycling up Jabish Hill. The first time we went on the ride,  I said as we began the climb, “Don’t quit, just count ten pedals. That’s all. Ten pedals. You can do it.” We all made ten pedals. Then I said, “Ten more pedals. I know it’s hard. But doing ten pedals is something we can do.” We did ten pedals over and again until we made it to the top of Jabish Hill. We all felt good about our accomplishment. The girls gained confidence. After the first bicycle ride up Jabish Hill, the girls knew to do ten pedals over and again. It was the way you made it to the top.

Ten pedals, over and again, is the way I am learning to live alone, move forward, and enjoy life and tell suffering and grieving, they won’t have the last word with me.

 

Ray’s Recipe For One: Your Heart Will Love This Tuna Salad

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Yesterday was Easter Sunday. I am a most fortunate guy. I have great neighbors. My backyard neighbor invited me to join her family for Easter Sunday dinner. She is a great cook and sensitive to my weird healthy dietary habits – A special thank you, T!

Let’s see. I want to make sure I have it right. If yesterday was Sunday, and a special one at that, today is get back on track day, a great day, and a Monday all rolled up into one. It doesn’t get much better. Unless it is Friday. Fridays are always good. I also like Wednesdays, hump day. Don’t forget Tuesdays and Thursdays, they’re the slices of bread surrounding hump day, and are always good, especially if they’re whole grain (Sometimes, I don’t get my attempts at humor.). If you think I’m forgetting about the weekends, no way – I was made for weekends. All of this brings me back to today, Monday. It’s a healthy eating, high on protein, light on the calories, nutritious, light up your life kind of meal. With that great intro, back by popular demand, one night only, buy your tickets in advance, hold the applause for Tuna Salad!

The exit doors are locked. Don’t think boring when you think Tuna Salad. Reread Herman Melville’s, Moby Dick? Okay, we’re not talking the great white whale and Captain Ahab. We’re talking something better, white, albacore Tuna, packed in water. When you finish consuming your tuna salad with this recipe, you’ll be able to leap tall building with a single bound. You’ll be faster than a speeding bullet. Hold that thought, I just got through watching a rerun of Superman.

Put away the fishing pole. Cancel reservations for the deep sea expedition. Take a trip to your local supermarket or Amazon and pick up a pouch, packet, skinny envelope of the gold, white albacore Tuna packed in water. Make sure it has the the American Heart Association symbol for heart healthy on it. Mine looks like this:

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We’re talking easy, squeezy here. Tear open the top, use a fork to drop the tuna into a bowl – there is no scaling, cleaning, and fish intestines (I’m a guy, with a live little boy inside me. I was going to say guts instead of intestines, but the Food Channel might be reading). I make my tuna around noontime so it can chill in the fridge while I spend my day blogging, tweeting, exercising, and trying to find cheap flights to Vegas.

I mash (guy speak) the tuna, do the Texas two-step to the fridge, grab the low-fat mayo in one one hand. My other hand seeks out a jalapeno, cucumber, and cilantro. You may ask yourself, ‘Why didn’t he make two trips to the fridge?’ If you’re a guy reading this, you understand. If not, it’s wired into our genes, it goes back to when we were barely standing erect, much like some of my high school friends. Let’s just say, they were insensitive to how others felt.

I use a slicer – Be careful amigo, you could lose the tip of a finger. Although, it would add some protein to the tuna (that’s the little boy again). I don’t use it with the cilantro. I use cooking scissors. I take the paper thin jalapeno and cucumber slices, chop, chop with the knife into smaller cubes and put the trio in with tuna and mayo and mix. Five minutes, twenty seconds start to finish. Now you understand the need for the two hand approach in the fridge. I was going for new PR. The tuna goes in the fridge. I put Siran wrap on it first. I’m letting it chill. It’s Y time. The elliptical machine will worry about me if I’m a no-show.

A half hour before dinner, I pull out my salad greens, cherry tomatoes, the remains of the cucumber, and almonds (yes, I keep my almonds in the fridge – they like to chill out.). The box says triple washed, ready to eat baby kale and baby spinach. I don’t argue with the ready to eat wording. I take a large handful and put it into a large bowl (I did wash my hands before I started). I use the slicer on a thicker setting with the cucumber – the reason? I’m trying to make this look nice for you and Pinterest. I eyeball the cherry tomatoes and cut them in halves. Sprinkle almonds around in a male haphazard manner and I can see the finish line. I turn to my salad dressing of choice, Modena balsamic vinegarette, and EVOO. Think healthy heart. A healthy heart is a happy heart – that’s what my veterinarian told me when I had my yearly physical. I still don’t understand when she checks my stomach my right leg involuntarily jumps at 80 miles an hour.

We’re almost done, stay in your saddle for a few more seconds. Back to the fridge, the tuna is waiting. I take it out and place it as neat as a guy can on the salad. Dinner is ready. It’s easy, healthy, and an attitude popping meal.

Now the whole truth and nothing but the truth. After the photo on the right. I plopped (guy speak) the rest of the tuna on my salad. My oh my it was good. I give it two thumbs up.

My Mom’s Lesson

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My mom grew up the hard way. A daughter of immigrant parents, her mother died when she was two. Her older sister raised mom and her three other siblings. She stopped attending school when she was in fourth grade. This uneducated woman was one of the most intelligent and compassionate people I’ve known. I recall early in my life when she took me to the library and made sure I had a library card. She made sure I read, read, and read some more. She never asked me, What did you do today?” She always asked me, “What did you learn today?” In her wisdom, she reminded me over and again, “Ray, learn something new every day.”

Learn something new every day. A simple sentence from a simple woman holding a deep, profound truth. If I am learning something new, I am growing. I am capable of changing. I am capable of adapting. I am not quitting. I am not deferring. I am capable of doing much, much more than I am doing at the moment.

Her simple lesson has helped me through my grieving process. I discovered grieving throws you on a steep learning curve with only two choices: Learn and grow or stop learning and atrophy. I’ve chosen to learn and grow. Thank you, mom.

I Am An Easter Person

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Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song. 
– Pope John Paul II

I am an Easter person. My hopes rise with the risen Lord. My heart sings out in a joyful song joining all who rejoice with me. I am an Easter person. Hope fills me to overflowing, flooding the street in front of me. I am Easter person. Fears and doubts evaporate with the dew. I set my course. My eyes on my destination. I am an Easter person.

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I Can’t Stop From Singing

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I have an outdoor herb garden. A real herb gardener will laugh at me. I have enough rosemary and basil to share with all the neighbors. They’re joined by three tomato plants, a blackberry bush, and a fig tree. No rhyme nor reason as to what I choose to plant. I added mint to the group this year. Why did I add mint? It smells nice. That’s the best reason I can give you. I have one large leafy green plant in the house, started by Babe years ago. She’s shared cuttings with daughters and neighbors. She loved the plant. Each time I water it, I know she’s nodding her loving approval from Heaven.

The leafy plant sits alone, no other plants with whom to commune. Everyone needs a friend. I thought another easy to care for green plant might make a good friend for the leafy plant company and brighten up the house as well. Today, I bought a mint plant. I repotted it and now it sits in the living room flirting with the leafy plant.

Plants and springtime are signs of life to me. It’s my favorite of the five seasons. Whoa, five seasons?  In Texas, football is a righteous season of its own. Spring offers new life in flowers, birds singing, warmer temperatures. I’m like the mint plant I repotted today. I’ve had a tough stretch, it’s time for me to be repotted. Like the mint plant I repotted, my roots are balled into the soil, in my case memories.

My springtime awaits, as does yours. It’s time to open the windows to let hope flow in freely, unfettered to smother me. I can’t stop from smiling. I can’t stop from singing.

 

Ray’s Recipe “Not So Shrimp Salad”

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Some word combinations drive me nuts (I apologize for any offense I caused almonds, walnuts, pistachio’s, Brazil nuts. I’d add peanuts, but peanuts, everyone knows you’re a legume. I don’t mind you crashing the nut fiesta, but be proud of your heritage.). What’s that? Did I hear a resounding, “No offense taken?”

The word combination I’m talking about is shrimp salad. For a growing guy, shrimp salad is an oxymoron. I need a shrimp salad like I need a hole in the head. Forget the simile, it belongs to my dad and I used it in a previous post. Shrimp salad is something that will cost me at least twelve bucks at a restaurant and I’m supposed to be happy with six grilled shrimp stuck in arugula, drizzled with the super secret, locked in the vault, even Wikileaks couldn’t hack into the file, recipe. I’m not talking the cost for drinks, appetizer, and tip. The snooty waiter expects a 25% tip, the extra ten percent is for the snoot factor. I leave feeling hungry (I suggest to my friend we head out for pizza, por favor).

My dilemma, I like shrimp. So I’m going for it. I’m making a man-sized, growing boy, kind of shrimp salad. Modify how I make it fit your appetite. I work out an hour and a half a day. I have to stay in shape to blog. That’s what my doctor told me. I don’t care if she’s a veterinarian. She’s patient friendly.

I’m keeping it simple, not for you. For me. I can juggle a Giam exercise ball on a good day. Yes, that’s one large, inflated ball that supposed to work the kinks out of my back. I start with the bowl. Of course, I choose a large bowl. I fill it with baby spinach and baby kale. Make sure it’s washed. Mom always told me, “Ray wash before eating.” The same goes for salad greens and the bowl. It gets lonely in a large bowl without friends, ever try it? It’s not fun. Let’s have a party, no RSVPs needed. Grape tomatoes, almonds (I made peace with the nuts, recall?), softened cranberries, Modena vinegarette, and a healthy splash (guy measure – what’s a tablespoon? Something to set on the table – so lame – don’t write the lame joke police) of EVOO.

 

It’s almost time to bring shrimp into the picture. Hold that thought. I don’t know about your shrimp, mine are mighty particular. They refuse to jump in the pan until it is the way they ordered it. I know a couple of people like that, not anyone reading this blog – you all know who I mean. Fill in the blank, right?

I put the skillet on, spray it with Pam and add two splashes of EVOO. How much is a splash you ask? Enough to swirl around the pan and see my reflection in the EVOO. I toss in rosemary (no, not a human being, the herb, and basil. Check out the first photo below, that’s rosemary and her friend basil. I have the skillet on high, the EVOO is telling me it’s ready – small popping noises. I toss in the rosemary, basil, and a scooch of garlic. I mush it all around until the garlic browns, and then …

IT’S TIME FOR THE STAR – OR, I SHOULD SAY STARS.  Yes, they arrive, ready for red carpet. There will be no prisoners, no leftovers, no waiting for lunch tomorrow to finish these babies. They’re hitting the digestive track tonight. It’s a six-step process – not hitting the digestive track, but in the shrimp prep.

Step one: Buy frozen, already cooked, peeled, and deveined shrimp.

Step two: Take the bag of shrimp out of the freezer.

Step three: Count out the number of shrimp you want to eat – I counted 16.

Step Four: Put them in a microwaveable bowl and nuke them for 45 seconds, mas o meno. They should feel chilled, but not frozen when you take them out.

Step five: As soon as the garlic is brown, toss (lovingly) the shrimp in the pan.

Step six: Sautee the shrimp with the rosemary and garlic and any other seasonings until they are done.

Check the photos below: Looking at the bottom photo is making me hungry.

It’s not going to take too long. No time to check Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or call mom. Well, I can’t call mom, she’s with dad and Babe looking down on me and sending me a LOL.

Here’s the finished product. The green stuff at the top is guacamole. Fresh blackberries and strawberries for desert. It’s Texas, I have to have a Texas-sized iced tea to go with my meal.

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Enjoy!

I Like Who I Am

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Let your hopes, not your hurts, shape your future.
– Robert H. Schuller

I am who am. I can be nothing more than what I am. It doesn’t matter so much if others like who I am as much as it matters that I like who I am. I do. I very much like who I am. I wasn’t alway this way. I tried to polish my image. I sandpapered the rough edges. None seemed to help. Then, one day, a moment of grace. I understood, at a deep level, I am the cumulative sum of all my experiences, the good and the bad. The joys and the sorrows. The successes and the failures. It’s all me. I knew in that moment if I were to ever love myself and like who I am, I had to embrace it all. All of it, the stuff I wanted and the stuff I wish never happened that made me into what I am today. I am grateful for all that was, and is and is to come. I like me, who I am, and what I am becoming.

Putting The Clouds Behind Me

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On this long storm the Rainbow rose —
On this late Morn — the Sun —
The clouds — like listless Elephants —
Horizons — straggled down —

The Birds rose smiling, in their nests —
The gales — indeed — were done —
Alas, how heedless were the eyes —
On whom the summer shone!

The quiet nonchalance of death —
No Daybreak — can bestir —
The slow — Archangel’s syllables
Must awaken her! ~ On this long storm the Rainbow rose by Emily Dickinson

No one is a stranger to pain. It is one of the commonalities binding us together as human beings. When I watch the news and see a father grieving over the loss of his children or wife thousands of miles away, my heart grieves with him and prayers from my heart and lips rise to a loving God to bring healing to him. No one is a stranger to pain.
Pain doesn’t have the last word. Suffering doesn’t have the last word. At least not with me. I live in hope-filled expectation, that today will better than yesterday, and tomorrow will be better than today. I place my heart into the hands of a loving God and walk forward, my eyes ever ahead catching sight of a rainbow that is mine.
There is a rainbow waiting for you and your pain will turn into laughter and joy. As the poet Emily Dickinson says, “On this long storm, the rainbow rose.”
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Alone But Not Lonely

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Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don’t believe I’m wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone. ~ Alone by Maya Angelou
Being alone takes a lot of getting used to. Anyone can make a bed, cook a healthy meal, exercise, and read a book.
Being alone takes a lot of getting used to.
Being alone is missing the mug clink with coffee cups in the morning. It’s missing the surprise kisses that come out of nowhere, for no reason other than someone loves you. It’s missing silly conversations, laughing together, and walking hand in hand, words not needed.
Being alone takes a lot of getting used to.
“That nobody, but nobody, can make it out here alone.” The truth in Maya Angelu’s poem resonates deep within me. I discovered that life calls me to reach out to others. I’m getting used to saying, “Hi, my name is Ray, what’s yours?” At first, it was difficult, extending my arm, smiling, and introducing myself. It’s not something most people make a daily habit. I do. And, it has made all the difference. I no longer feel alone, although I’m dancing alone. I discovered a genuine warmth, compassion, and love in the people I’ve met. In spite of the cable news, the world is a friendly place, people are good, and each person I meet brightens my life.
Hi, my name is Ray. What’s yours?

Ray’s Recipe: Joy of Pizza (Mexican, that is)

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I’m in the mood for pizza, Mexican pizza that is. If I were living in New York, I’d head down to Little Italy. If I were in Boston, off to the North End. I’m of Italian descent, pizza is a marked on my DNA. At least that’s what came back when I sent a sample of my saliva for DNA analysis to Tony’s Pizzeria. I live in San Antonio, I go with the local cuisine, which by the way is awesome. Maybe I’ll a plug from the Chamber of Commerce. Then again, maybe not.

Mexican Pizza is perfect for an easy, good tasting, healthy meal. Let’s start with easy. It’s as easy as uno, dos, tres. It’s Mexican pizza, right? It’s a requirement I count in Spanish. What can be easier than a can of Bush’s reduced sodium pinto beans?

Step by step if you read directions. If you’re a guy, just go with the photos and pretend you’re reading. That’s what I do.

  1. Hold can firmly in the right hand, insert the can into the electric can opener. Turn on the can opener. Remove can. Don’t forget to recycle the top and the can when rinsed.
  2. Drain the can – caution, don’t dump the beans out when you drain the can (this warning is for absently minded challenged people – did I get that politically correct?).
  3. Put the beans in a blender. If you need a bit of salt or pepper or other seasonings, this is the time. You don’t want to do it after the dance is over. Where did that metaphor come from? Too much iced tea at lunch I think.
  4. I turn the oven on to 380 – It takes a few minutes to heat up. At the same time, I have a poblano pepper, onion, and green pepper doing the salsa in the sizzling hot pan. I toss in a bit of red crushed pepper (guy speak, toss means unmeasured, looks good, go for it).

    5. I place two, high fiber, high protein, low calorie tortilla on a baking sheet. I baste them with EVOO and zip them in the oven for two and a half minutes. This step lets the tortillas know I mean business. No fooling around. It frijole time. I smooth my bean mix over the tortillas, artistic enough to be sold at a garage sale for fifty cents if you’re into tortilla ornaments. I pace sliced tomatoes around the edges of the tortillas, basically to cover up the spots I missed with the beans. There I go, spilling the beans. Forgive the lame joke, por favor. I stick the bean and tomato covered tortillas back in the oven for three minutes to get them good and hot. When I pull the pan out, I cover my tortillas with my poplano, onions, and green pepper mix. I add non-fat mozzarella from Kraft, and put the whole thing back into the oven. Now, it’s eyeballing time. I can’t watch ESPN. I can’t check my Twitter feed. I can’t text. Well, I can do all those things, and I can do them all at once. I can even use the remote at the same time. I force myself to keep a close eye on the oven. I know it’s ready when the cheese is perfectly melted. Now how hard is that? On a scale of one to ten, I’d give it a 7. That gives me three spaces to play with.

    Finished product. I hide one pizza from view (it looks good BTW). Please take note of my guacamole (guacamole goes with everything even my oatmeal). If you make this meal, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did and as much I did writing this post.

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