Vegetarian Meat Loaf...it's delicious, REALLY!

Last month I downloaded the movie, "Food, Inc." to my computer, thinking I'd watch it during spring break, but never got around to it and completely forgot I had it, until last weekend. I plugged in my earphones, and watched it on the balcony in North Carolina, mostly through my fingers as I had to cover my eyes for a large portion of it. I must admit, it has completely changed the way I feel about the food I eat, and the food I serve my family. I see my daughter's point...she has been a pesca-vegetarian for almost a year (she eats no meat but does eat fish), basically because of the way they treat the animals they grow for our food supply. Even my carnivorous husband is coming around. He hasn't even seen the entire movie, but after seeing the first hour and listening to my recaps, he hasn't had meat, pork or chicken in over a week. That is monumental for him.




H really never liked meat very much, so it wasn't such a difficult thing for her to give up. But the other day she mentioned that even though she never really liked it when she ate meat, she was craving meatloaf. I used to make a really good turkey meatloaf, but it had been years since I'd made it. I looked up recipes for vegetarian meatloaf and they were all over the board...made with lentils, black beans, or vegetarian ground beef. I decided to try the soy crumbles instead of beans, because I wanted to try to duplicate the flavor and texture of ground beef. I just tinkered with my old meatloaf recipe, and it smelled delicious while it was cooking. H loved it and even J said he liked it, and didn't make me throw the leftovers away...so I would call it a success!


Please go HERE for an updated version of this recipe.  After a year of tinkering with it I've learned how to make it stay together in the loaf shape.
Vegetarian Meat Loaf


Ingredients
* 1/4 cup Bullseye Hickory Smoke Barbecue Sauce
* 3/4 cup Heinz Ketchup
* 1 (12 ounce) package vegetarian burger crumbles
* 1 green or yellow bell pepper, chopped
* 1 minced red onion
* 1 clove garlic, minced
* 1 cup soft bread crumbs
* 3 tablespoons Parmesan cheese
* 1 egg, beaten
* 1/4 teaspoon dried thyme
* 1/4 teaspoon dried basil
* 1/4 teaspoon parsley flakes
* salt and pepper to taste

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Lightly grease a 5x9 inch loaf pan.
2. In a bowl, mix together the barbecue sauce and the ketchup. Mix 3/4 of the mixture with the vegetarian burger crumbles, yellow bell pepper, onion, garlic, bread crumbs, Parmesan cheese, and egg. Season with thyme, basil, parsley, salt, and pepper. Transfer to the loaf pan.
3. Bake 45 minutes in the preheated oven. Pour remaining barbecue sauce over the loaf, and continue baking 15 minutes, or until loaf is set.

The Every Day Memories

I'm not the only one in my family who's been hit hard by the pollen in Nashville this spring. For me, it has aggravated my asthma to the point that the medication doesn't seem to be doing anything to help. I can't run more than a mile without chest pain that feels like a truck is parked on my solar plexus. For J, it's allergies. He's walking around sounding like a dog choking on a bone...a dry, hacking cough, and sinus congestion that makes him feel terrible. His snoring has escalated to decibels that rattle the windows. On a good day (without pollen), he snores, I nudge him, he rolls over and stops for a little while. Usually that happens 2-3 times per night, and I can fall asleep in between the snoring, and hopefully stay asleep most of the night. But now, he is snoring on his back, on his side, and even when he falls asleep sitting up. He's waking himself up several times a night. And when I try to nudge him to turn over, his attitude is, to say the least, not very accommodating. Last night he decided to sleep in the guest room so both of us could get a good night's sleep.

I was sitting in bed, reading, when H came downstairs and said, "Daddy is worried that you might be lonely. Can I sleep with you?" I thought about it for half a second, but pulled the covers back, patted the bed next to me, and she jumped in. I turned off the reading light and snuggled up next to her, a smile on my face. Memories of moments from her childhood, when she had nightmares, or couldn't sleep, or just wanted to be with us, when she'd walk into the bedroom and ask if she could "cuddle" for a little while. She'd wiggle in between us, put one little hand on me, and the other on J, and the "little while" often turned into all night. I usually didn't sleep well on those nights. When she was really little, I worried all night that I'd roll over and wake her up. As she got older, and more accustomed to sleeping alone in a queen sized bed, sleeping with her growing limbs all over the place became like sleeping in a bowl of spaghetti. I was constantly lifting arms and legs off my chest and putting them back in her space. So as she got older (and so did I), I felt we all needed a good night's sleep more than she needed to "cuddle". So we started sending her back to her bed. It wasn't until last night, when I woke up in the middle of the night with her 16- year-old LEG (yes, her leg) smacking me in the face, that I remembered just how much I loved those everyday moments. On those nights when she was snuggling in next to us, J would reach over her head, rub my hair and we'd both look at each other and H and smile. Everything was alright. We were together.

I take lots of pictures of my family. I have boxes and books full of photos from special moments. Vacations. Recitals. Graduations. Birthdays. I don't have so many of those regular, forgettable moments. The times spent together doing nothing special. The naps together, jumping in the McDonald's play area on a Tuesday afternoon together, reading at night before bed, brushing teeth together, weekday meals together at the table in the kitchen, watching TV, walking the dog, picking out groceries, wrapping gifts, packing lunches, shopping for a new backpack, playing the 'alphabet game' on a family hike together, taking a temperature when someone's sick, wiping away tears when a friend disappoints you, the list goes on and on. It's those every day moments that I treasure more than the special occasions. The ones I wish I'd taken more photos of. Every once in awhile the camera would be conveniently sitting nearby when something happened and I'd take a photo...H taking photos with her first camera, H and J falling asleep while watching TV, J teaching H how to shoot a free throw. I will always remember those moments when I see the photos. But those other moments, the ones I didn't photograph? I'll remember them when I least expect it. When she's not around. When we have a typical mother/teenage daughter argument. I remember washing her hair in the bathtub with the "Baby Bop" cup pouring water over her head to rinse out the shampoo..."Sprinkle, sprinkle, sprinkle...RAIN!!!" I remember thinking she was finally eating a cheeseburger (even when she hated meat from the time she was a little girl), and then seeing the pieces of meat sprinkled on the floor around her chair. I remember her walking out on stage at a show at Opryland when she was 3 years old and standing front and center while the show continued to go on and she smiled the whole time, thinking she was supposed to be there. I wish I'd had a camera then. But those memories are as sharp as any photo could ever be. I just never know when I'm going to see them.

Finding an Injured or Stray Animal

Thursday afternoon we were on our way to the airport, driving down Lynnwood Boulevard, when suddenly J said, "Oh, my God, it's a cat!" He did a quick U-turn and H and I saw what he was talking about.. It was a tiny kitten (probably 8-10 weeks old), curled up in the very middle of the street, looking like it was taking a nap in the sun. Cars were whizzing by in both directions, so we started beeping and yelling to try to keep them from just running right over the little thing. J stopped traffic and walked over to pick up the kitten to get it out of the way. It had raised its head and meowed, so we knew it was alive. But when he picked it up, we saw it was bleeding a little from its nose. I was in a little bit of shock...my husband HATES cats, so it was amazing that he had stopped. He took the kitten over to a yard and put it down very gently, and it just kind of fell over, so we realized it was injured. H volunteers at "Love at First Sight", an animal adoption center, which is right across from Murphy Road Veterinarians, so she asked if we could take it there. One look at her face, and J just crumbled. H held it in the backseat and we made the quick detour on our way to the airport. We thought at first maybe it was just slightly injured, but it couldn't stand up and it was gagging all the way to the vet, so we think it was bleeding internally and probably choking. The people at Murphy Road were very sweet, and careful about what they said to H because she was crying, but they said if they didn't think they could make it better, they'd stop treatment and euthanize it. We feel like that is better than it bleeding to death in the middle of the road, or worse, if another car didn't see it.

Then, last night on our way home from the dinner, we saw a black lab wandering down a very busy road. It had a collar on, so it obviously was someone's pet who had wandered away or gotten lost, so we tried to catch it to see if there was a phone number. He was very skittish and ran off, so we went on home, but J and H couldn't stand leaving, just knowing he was out there wandering on the road, so they grabbed some treats and went back out to try to find him. They could never get him to come to them, so we're hoping he lived in the area and made it home. It's funny, now I think we're going to see all the lost/injured animals that we probably never noticed before.

I started thinking about that, and the fact that when we took the kitten we needed a towel or something to wrap around it, and the fact that we're lucky it was little and H was there to hold it. I don't know what we would have done if it was a bigger animal who was injured more severely, or aggressive. We were also lucky the vet was only a little out of our way, and that they were kind enough to take it in. So I started doing some research.

The Humane Society of the United States has some good advice. If you know in your heart you are going to be a rescuer, there are some things you should have in your car at all times: Cell phone, phone numbers of local animal control, a shelter, and a 24-hour emergency veterinary clinic; cat carrier or cardboard box; collars and strong leashes for dogs; heavy blanket; water bowls and water; strong-smelling foods, such as canned tuna or dried liver (to lure the animal to you); and an animal first-aid kit.

I hate to admit that I have seen animals injured on the side of the road, and didn't stop, either because I was rushing somewhere or didn't know what to do. At the very least, from now on I'm going to keep a towel in the car, and program the numbers for animal control, the humane society, and the emergency pet clinic. From now on, I don't think I'm ever going to be able to just drive by.

Running with Asthma

I just found out I have a spot in the NYC Marathon on November 7 this year! It's been five years since my last marathon...the Rock and Roll Arizona. I've done NYC three times, and have tried to get a spot through the lottery for the last three years, but until this year I wasn't successful. I'll be 50 in December, so this will be my last marathon before that milestone. This year might be a little more challenging than the eight previous marathons I've done.

About a year ago, I was in the middle of a 7-mile run that I did quite often, had done a couple of days before, actually, and suddenly I felt like I had been hit by a mac truck. My chest hurt, and I couldn't get a breath. I actually had to stop, sit down, and put my head between my legs while I sucked air like a hoover vacuum cleaner for a few minutes. It was so weird. I had never had something hit me like that. I thought perhaps I was coming down with something. I sat there for a few minutes, caught my breath, and tried to start running again. I literally had to walk 3 1/2 miles home. The next day, I was on the stair machine and it happened again. We were planning a trip to Colorado the next week for spring break, and so I decided to check in with my doctor before we traveled to 14,000 feet altitude.

After hearing my symptoms...chest pain, shortness of breath, the doctor ordered a multitude of tests: chest xray, EKG, treadmill stress test, etc. One of the tests showed an abnormality that "could be a heart tumor" so I was admitted for a more invasive test, but all the results showed that my heart was fine. The cardiologist had no idea why I had shortness of breath, but sent me home.

The breathing issues cleared up for the most part, but once a week or so I would have an interrupted run or workout, and have to adjust the intensity. Finally, at the end of the summer I had such a strong attack while swimming in a race on Labor Day that I felt like I was going to drown. I jumped on the internet and plugged in my symptoms and out popped the diagnosis...Exercise Induced Asthma!

Now, the fact that both my internist and cardiologist didn't suggest asthma is another story, but I called my doctor and went for another visit. I asked if it could be asthma, and he said that is what he was thinking! So, after getting it confirmed with a pulmonologist, I began my life as an asthmatic.

I'm taking symbicort (long acting inhaler), singulair, and use a "rescue" inhaler when needed. It seemed to be working (for the most part), until a couple of weeks ago, after I did an 18 miler with no problem. I had been training for the Country Music Marathon, and went out for a recovery run the day after my long run, and BAM...after 1/2 mile I couldn't go any further! It was the worst I have ever had it. For the next week and a half, every time I went out for the run it was more of the same. I can WALK, but the minute I start to run, my lungs start to feel sticky and I can't breathe. I was discussing it (whining about it) with a friend whose kids have asthma, and she said, "Well, of COURSE it's bad now...the pollen is the worst it's been in years!"

I had no idea, but when the air quality is bad due to allergens, asthma symptoms worsen. I haven't been able to run outside more than a couple of miles in two weeks. But I found a cool website, azma.com, which gives a prediction of the air quality/asthma forecast for four days. It's on a scale of 1-12, and Nashville has been almost an 8 over the last couple of weeks. This week it's down to a 4.9, so I'm going to attempt to run this morning.

I have a couple of months to get my base back up before I ramp up the distance, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed. The good news is, we'll be in North Carolina for most of the summer, and the asthma levels there are about half the levels here in Nashville. I'll just have to deal with the hills there, and hope my plantar fasciitis doesn't flare up.

30 weeks and counting...

***

Ran 7.6 miles today...VERY slowly. Had to walk up a few of the hills, and it didn't feel easy, but it was the first time I've run over a couple of miles outside in two weeks.

Letting Out the Rope

Someone very wise once told me that parenting is like having a very long rope. That as our kids grow up, we let out the rope a little bit at a time. We might have to pull it in a little bit, but we never completely let go. As the parents to an only child, J and I have held onto the rope pretty tightly, but we’re finally starting to ease up, and let go-a little bit.

Ten years ago, J and I took H skiing for the first time. She was in first grade, and up until that point, we were afraid she was not going to be athletic at all. Sure, she played soccer, but that was just an excuse to get together with her friends and most of the time, she had no idea what she was doing. Once, she got her foot caught in the soccer goal netting while playing goalie (in between looking for four leaf clovers). I remember the first time she played when the weather warmed up, and she ran to me afterwards, saying, “Mommy, I don’t like to sweat!”

It was a few years before she realized that she DID like to sweat, and even more years before she became a human punching bag on the basketball court, so we were afraid that she might not like skiing. J hadn’t been able to ski for several years, due to his avascular necrosis in his hip (a long story, two hip surgeries and years of rehab). So we took a babysitter with us, in case H got cold, or didn’t like ski school, so that we could ski uninterrupted. We went to Beaver Creek, which has one of the best ski schools (if not the best) in the country. We bought lessons for H and the babysitter as well, along with lift tickets for all four of us for the week. The first day, I was more nervous than H, who only said, “I hope I meet a friend in ski school.”

Luckily, she did meet a friend, and even more luckily, she LOVED skiing! We told her she had to do at least level 7 in ski school (the black diamond club) before she could learn to snowboard, because we were afraid that if she started snowboarding she’d never learn to ski. Fast forward to today, she’s in 10th grade and even though all her friends were going to the beach for spring break she wouldn’t think of not going skiing. She’s already focusing on colleges in Colorado so she can ski on the weekends.

Snow skiing is the one sport we can all do together. J is a beautiful skier, since he grew up skiing up North. I started later in life, and until I was a senior in high school had only skied in Gatlinburg, TN, so I really didn’t have nearly as much experience as J did. Luckily, even though I don’t have the form or the beauty of his technique, I can hang with him. The first year we took H, we started a tradition of picking her up from ski school riding up the lift to the bunny slope to take one last ride down together. As the years went by, H became a great skier, and we were able to spend whole days on the mountain together. You couldn’t erase the smile on my face.

Skiing is by far my favorite vacation. I love getting up, making breakfast, and jumping on the lift to spend entire days together. We’re physically active, outdoors in the most beautiful mountain setting, laughing and joking, and most of all spending a whole week together, just the three of us. I also love the evenings…the après ski scene…bonfires, live music, and wonderful restaurants and great wine for dinner.

When H “graduated” from ski school, we thought about taking a friend with us, but at that point, she didn’t have any close friends who skied at her level. None of us wanted to sacrifice time on the blue and black runs to ski with a beginner, so unless we met another family there, it was just the three of us. We’ve always felt pretty lucky that she wanted to spend that much time with her parents. At first, J would start skiing, H would follow, and I would stand there and watch for a minute or two, just happy and loving the sight of the two of them zig-zagging down the hill. Then I would take up the rear.

Now, J starts, then H flies by him, and has to wait at the bottom for the two of us. She’s an amazing skier, and doesn’t have the “Oh, my God, I’m going to kill myself” feeling that we do. So it was inevitable, that she would get tired of skiing with us. It might have something to do with the cute lift operators, but this year, for the first time, she would start skiing with us, and after a few runs, ask if she could head off by herself. As J and I spent most afternoons skiing together, just the two of us, it was almost like old times. Almost…but in the back of my mind I never really relaxed, until she would let herself in the door around 4 or 4:30, red-faced and eager to talk about all the double black diamonds she'd tackled by herself, and the people she met on the lifts.  Being close to a ski mountain is one of the key goals  she has at this point for where she wants to go to college.

We’re letting the rope out more and more these days, and even though I know we’re pretty overprotective, I’m still anxious every minute she’s away from me. She’s driving by herself to more and more locations-school, volunteering, sporting events, social occasions, and although my life is a little bit easier now that I’m not the taxi driver I once was, anxiety now takes its place. The sweetest sound in the world is the “beep-beep” of the door opening when she comes home. Now I understand why my Mom always tells me to drive carefully, even now, at 49 years old. We can let go, but we can’t stop worrying.