Black Quinoa Soup with Shrimp

I love making use of all the good food, let nothing go to waste. One of the best ways to make a great soup stock is by boiling rotisserie chicken "bones" (ones that still have some meat left on them). We buy the hot, cooked chicken at our local grocery store when we need a quick dinner, then use the bones to make soup sometime in the next couple days.


Boil:
• 4 quarts of water with the
• bones of a rotisserie chicken (cooked)

Add:
• 2 tbsp of Knoor’s Chicken Powde
• 5 carrots chopped
• 1 ½ stocks of celery chopped
• 3 cloves of garlic chopped

Boil the above and simmer for about an hour or until the chicken is falling off the bones. Turn off the heat, wash your hands, and add about:

• 4 cups of ice cubes to the water, then use a serving spoon to scoop soup and pull out all the chicken bones

Add:
• 1 cup red lentils and bring to a boil and simmer for about 15 minutes, then add
• 1 cup of black quinoa and boil for another 10 minutes, then add
• 1 bunch of fresh chives chopped (it’s what I had, parsley would be good too, also a diced onion and bay leaves at the beginning would have been good but I didn’t have any)

When serving hot soup, use frozen shrimp to cool the soup down, while the soup defrosts the shrimp. I add the shrimp as I serve each bowl, I don’t put the shrimp into the pot. The soup keeps longer in the fridge for a couple of days minus the shrimp. So…

Add:
• about 5 frozen cooked, tail off shrimp to the bowl and pour soup over the top of the shrimp
• Fresh lemon juice on top and
• Salt and fresh ground pepper to taste

Roasted Eggplant and Sweet Bell Pepper Dip

I made this today, it was super delicious! Today I also started my friend Lisa's "Body Back" program. The diet portion of the program is not very different from what I am used to doing already so I plan to have some fun with it and create some yummy snacks from the vegetables that will be growing in my garden this summer.

There's something about roasting vegetables that makes them super sweet and delicious. The sweetness from the vegetables balances very nicely with the tartness of the non fat plain yogurt in this recipe.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees

Spray roasting pan with olive oil Pam spray

Put the following vegetables in the roasting pan and cover tight with tin foil, bake at 400 degrees for about 30 minutes:

• 2 eggplants diced into approx. 1 inch cubes
• 4 large red, orange, or yellow bell peppers cut into about 1-2 inch pieces
• drizzle with about ¼ cup olive oil. (Don’t worry, this recipe makes about 10 servings, so the oil will amount to about 1 ½ tsp. per serving) and remember, you are dipping vegetables and whole grains, into vegetables so you will need a little fat in order to absorb the fat soluble nutrients—A,D,E,and K—from the food.

Take the foil off and continue baking for 15 – 20 minutes longer until somewhat gold browned and soft. Let cool for a little while.

Pulse roasted vegetables in a food processor with about

• 1 – 2 tsp of crushed garlic, (I buy the Trader Joe’s brand garlic in the jar for convenience, but you can also roast your own garlic with the vegetables, just be careful not to burn, I think they cook a little faster than the eggplant and peppers)
• salt and pepper to taste.

Serve with:

• greek style not fat plain yogurt,

1/2 dip and ½ yogurt,. You can pre mix it or serve it side by side.

Garnish with:

• parsley

Dip with:

• raw vegetables,
• pita bread
• Sangak bread

*I like the mini Persian cucumbers at Wholesome Choice, they’re only .50 / lb.  and the Whole grain sourdough Sangak bread from their bakery is great too.

*You could also add some fresh parsley or chives right into the food processor with the vegetabels.

The "Tooth Fairy Forgot" poem

Okay, so my poor sweet Grace lost a tooth on Thursday and the tooth fairy somehow didn't make it...oops. Here's the redemption letter, of course there was $6.00 included:

I know what you’re thinking, you’re tooth fairy’s a flake

She didn’t show up, was it some kind of mistake?

Was my tooth not enough? Was there a cavity?

We know tooth fairy’s fly and can defy gravity.

It breaks my heart to know that I caused you such sadness

It’s not like I needed a map to your house or your address

I know where you live; I’ve been to your place

But please forgive me; it’s been a busy week Grace?

You see? When I plan each night I save

The kids that are kind and don’t misbehave

They’re last on my list because you know the phrase

“Save the best for last”…but I encountered some delays

I leave you tonight with hopes you’ll forgive me

I could never be truly happy not knowing you still love me

You’re such a good girl Grace and you make me so proud

To be your tooth fairy living up in the clouds.

I love you Grace!

Love, Your Tooth Fairy

My Journey to be thin…and it’s a long distance journey, literally

What’s worse: being asked, “when is your baby due?” when you are not pregnant or asking a woman “when is your baby due?” when she is not pregnant?

When I was asked, I almost went along with it and made up a due date but because I am mathematically challenged I could not think fast enough to be convincing enough. I only considered this because I adore the person who asked and did not want to embarrass her any more than she had already embarrassed herself, especially since the question was 100% fair—no doubt, I looked pregnant.

It’s not as though I wasn’t aware of my physically unfit situation. I had recently been to several different doctors. At my OBGYN appointment, my doctor’s skinny little assistant entered the room with her handy dandy Body Mass Index (BMI) chart and informed me that I was “obese.”

“Wait there just a minute, can I see that chart you have?” I thought I was “overweight”--the section that comes immediately after “normal,”--but not “obese.” I thought wrong; I was two sections away from normal now. It was official; I had crossed over to the next column and was now labeled “obese” and knew I was not getting any closer to “normal” on my current “see food” diet and lack of exercise plan.

Shortly after my hair began falling out in chunks, I started to acquire some bald spots on my head about the size of a quarter. Until then I seemed to be coping fine with being a fat woman; but a fat, bald woman? That is where I drew the line—that could not be good for my sex life.
After a full panel blood test, I received a very large envelope in the mail from Kaiser; they weren’t happy with my 240 cholesterol level. It was a packet of information, on how to lower cholesterol through diet and exercise, written by a dietitian. Wow! I actually have a Bachelor of Science in Dietetics, and I am the targeted recipient of a cholesterol lowering informational packet written by a dietitian. How pathetically embarrassing is that. I’m thinking of the plumber whose toilets don’t work, the psychologist who’s slightly psychotic, and I’m the dietitian who’s obese—nice, real nice! Being officially labeled as an obese dietitian seems like an oxymoron, if nothing else, just plain hypocritical.

I was not tall enough to be pushing 200 pounds—I’m only 5’4”. I had no excuses; I was just a very good example of how the law of thermodynamics works. When you eat too much and don’t move enough, you gain weight, it’s not rocket science.



Here's me in front at my heaviest

 Not long after being asked when my baby was due--and getting news from my doctor that I was going bald, officially obese and my cholesterol was dangerously high--I got news from the pediatrician that two of my four children’s weight-to-height ratio was bordering on unhealthy. This was a nice way of saying that they’re getting chubby--like mother, like daughter. How could I possibly explain to my kids that the doctor suggested they loose a little weight when their mother was the classic before--without an after--picture? The only way my kids were going to care about their health is if I cared about mine.

At our ward anniversary dinner, I was chatting with some of my girl friends. They were talking about running a 4th of July 5k run, and they were going to start training the very next morning. For some strange reason I committed to go.

So the next morning I ran my first--post childbirth--run with the ladies for two miles on the Santa Ana river trail. I seriously thought I was going to die, my legs were like Jell-O and I didn’t even know if I could drive myself home let alone ever walk again. I HATED every second of it. Why do people run? I thought. This has to be the world’s stupidest sport! It’s not like we’re trying to get a ball in a goal. I remembered this quote I read with a picture of a runner on it: “My sport is your sports punishment”—I completely understood. The only problem is that I was stuck, I had committed to my friends to do this 5k and the only reason I had any desire to follow through is because I was obligated and would be the biggest looser (and not weight loss looser like the reality show) if I quit. I was running on all obligation and zero motivation.

I decided that whatever I was going to do to get this weight off, I had to like. If not it would never last. I had an epiphany and realized that I needed to replace my addiction for food with an addiction for some sort of exercise. That’s the only way I could think to reverse this…but how do you get addicted to something so miserable? I had no desire to waste money to join a sweaty, germ infested gym, where meat heads go to show off their muscles and hot chicks wear sports bras with their big fake boobs hanging out—that just sounded depressing. I had been noticing all the runners around me—I didn’t know of any fat runners. In fact, I knew some runners who I thought were a little bit Nazi about running and definitely addicted by my standards. I started hanging out with them and trying to keep up with them.



1st 5K, Me on the far right, maybe 5 lbs. down

 I found that running for a reason was the only thing that would keep me going. I had always wanted to hike the Grand Canyon into Havasupai. That first 5k short term goal was one baby step toward my dream of hiking the Grand Canyon. I didn’t think I would be motivated to keep running after the 5k but then I wondered if I could beat my own time. That was it! I got the itch. I started getting competitive with myself and it was not such a bad thing. I felt great and I started loosing weight, the weight loss became addictive in and of itself. A runner’s high is a beautiful thing, but to a fat girl, more so is a daily shrinking number on the scale.

I asked our friends, Rod and Lori Parker, to come to Havasupai with us. They reversed the invitation and invited us to do a 30 mile, 5 day hike in Machu Picchu, Peru--Richard’s dream vacation for as long as I’ve known him. For this I had to get fit and running became the most convenient and cheapest way. Along the way I continued making short term goals and continued to loose weight, by this time I was down about 20 lbs. weighing around 175.

About 5 months into my journey I met Lisa, Lisa was a new mom at my kid’s school and I immediately noticed her lean running physique and tight calves. I asked her: “Are you new to the school?”

“Yes” she said with a very inviting smile.

“Are you a runner?” I asked.

“Yes” she said with another very inviting smile.

“Well, you look like a runner” I said.

Lisa was slender but muscular, not too tall, not too short; she appeared to be very healthy and had the perfect figure in my opinion. She had short brown hair and a fading summer tan. Her humble sweet smile could welcome the shyest individual. Thanks to my excellent probing skills, or as others might call it, my busy body-ness: sure enough, she was another one of those crazy marathon runners.

Lisa was flattered by my interest in her. I invited her to run with us the very next morning. I was flattered by her acceptance of my invitation. I’m not sure I would go with me. It was our Saturday long run. I told her “I’m one of the slow ones but I’ll introduce you to the fast people that you can run with,” but she ran slower for me and inspired me to do my first 9 mile run ever. Before this day I had never run more than six miles in one day. I could hardly walk for 2 days, but hey I did it! Lisa felt guilty and tried to take the blame for my aching feet saying that she was irresponsible for pushing me and that as certified running coach, she should know better. Whatever, she was wrong, humble, but wrong. What she forgot is that she didn’t PUSH me, she inspired me, not once ever suggesting that I extend myself beyond 6 miles, only setting the way by an example that I chose to follow. What I didn’t know then that I do know now is that increasing your mileage with aches and pains is a normal part of the adjustment that our bodies make to accommodate to our new lifestyle. I wasn’t physically injured, I was only responding as one would in my overweight situation.

Besides, it didn’t help that my costume for the Halloween party that night required me to wear heels, and then church the next morning—heels again. Just remember: runners, heels, bad.

Every Saturday and the weekdays in between, Lisa always stuck with me and I could always depend on her to wake up at the crack of dawn and run slow with me. I can’t remember a time when I suggested we run the following morning and Lisa wasn’t there. I was so spoiled it was unbelievable. Lisa would run to my house and pick me up in the mornings and run me back home after our run, then run home herself. It really doesn’t get any better than that. I could always count on her.

By now, I was very slowly loosing weight, but still loosing. I started running longer on Saturdays and occasionally ran with the faster people when they were having a slow day. This was real distance running. I could have NEVER done this without Lisa. I would have never even attempted or desired to extend myself this much.

Running became a social thing for me too. Lisa always showed interest in what was going on in my life, never giving up on me, always encouraging me to press forward and do my best.

Then something crazy happened that brought my weekday runs to a halt. My husband became severely ill. He was paralyzed from head to toe and was in the hospital for two months. My focus became my husband and my kids, and my running took a backseat. Morning runs were out of the question as Richard wasn’t home to stay with the kids anymore. My new running route was a lonely one; it started at our home and ended at the hospital four miles away.

Lisa stuck by me through thick and thin. She made herself available to me to do my Christmas shopping among other things. It was a busy time of year for everyone, her husband had lost his job and they were suffering their own problems, but she always made me feel like I was number one on her list.

I know this sounds elementary, but Lisa inspires me to be the best I can be. Running with such a committed and caring individual makes running fun. Lisa has great knowledge in all areas of running from shoes, to Gu; but most of all great training plans. She never pushes her opinions on us new clueless runners, but gives us food for thought and helps us decide what is best for us.

Lisa inspired me to try my best to become as physically fit as my body will allow; I may never get there, but I will die trying.

Fast forward exactly 1 year from my first 2-mile run on the riverbed. It’s June 5th, 2010 and I’m in Fontana with my friends where I just finished my first half-marathon race. My running mentor, Lisa, she calls it my “runniversary.” I can’t call her my coach because I can’t afford to pay her for her services, but that’s really what she is. I ran it in 2:05 and was already thinking about the next half marathon race where I would break two hours.

“So Kelly, we’re doing a full marathon this fall, I’ll email you your running plan.” Lisa said after the half. “That’s okay, I’ll pass on the marathon.” I said.

Lisa and my sister Heidi had conspired behind my back that I would be running a marathon with them. I wasn’t feeling the excitement they were: “No, I won’t be running a marathon, that’s just crazy!” I said, “I have no desire to run a marathon, don’t marathoners get hurt?” I thought, “I’ve heard nightmare stories about bloody nipples; it’s like lactating blood instead of milk, and don’t their toe nails turn black and fall off and then their toes look like little nubs?” That’s not cute with sandals, I was thinking, and it didn’t seem healthy either.

I knew as I wasn’t even close to my full potential yet. Still overweight and fighting a plateau, I have this inner desire to conquer my weaknesses, increase my speed, loose more weight, and attempt to be as physically fit as my body will allow. It may never happen, but I will never stop trying. I went ahead and ran the marathon…with Lisa of course. Or should I say…Lisa ran the Marathon with Me. Yep, she did. She coached me through the whole 4 hours and 29 minutes, only three weeks after running her own Fall Marathon, almost fully recovered. Talk about committed, yes she is. Talk about spoiled, yes I am.

To be continued… Marathon Race Report

Amazing Grace

“How was school today Grace?” I asked.

“So good Mommy, I have a new best friend and her name is Juno, she’s Japanese.” Grace said excitedly.

“Oh, Ok Grace” I said with a smile. I’m thinking “wow!” it’s only Monday, on the first day of the school year and Grace already has a new best friend in one day.

What does she mean “she’s Japanese”? We’re American’s; don’t we all come from somewhere? I thought. We’re a melting pot of people from all different countries.

Grace also has a cute little girl friend named Doreen who is of Vietnamese nationality. Grace became close friends with Doreen last year in school. Doreen is a sweet girl. She came to Grace’s baptism with her family, which made it that much more special to Grace. There is a slight communication barrier between myself and her mother as English is her second language and she’s not quite fluent in it, but we get by enough to make basic arrangements. It seems Grace is attracted to children of Asian origin. It makes sense to me; some of my best friends in elementary school were Japanese, we got along well.

The next day after picking up Grace from school, she talked about Juno again saying with excitement: “Mommy, mommy, Juno is my new best friend, and she’s from Japan Mommy!”

“Okay Grace, I’m so glad you have made such a great new friend!” I said.

By Friday, Grace was so thoroughly excited about her new friend Juno, she got in the car and exclaimed: “Mommy, mommy, Juno is from Japan, she moved to the United States two weeks ago and she is my new best friend!”

“Grace, is she actually from Japan? Like, as in, she is actually Japanese, and came here from Japan?”

“Yes, she moved here two weeks ago Mommy” Grace said.

“Does your new best friend speak any English Grace?” I asked.

“Ummmmmmmm………..no, not really” she says with a surety.

Isn’t it amazing how children can communicate with other children regardless of language barriers? I guess when they’re playing it doesn’t really matter what language they speak.

I got a kick out Grace’s long drawn out “no.” Grace is such a sweet girl. When I took the girls to school the following week, I walked them all the way up to the play ground. There I witnessed Grace seeing Juno for her first time that day; they wrapped their arms around each other like they were long lost friends who hadn’t seen each other in months or even years. I watched Grace and Juno play together, chasing each other while laughing and running around in circles being silly. Juno didn’t need to be able to speak English and Grace didn’t need to be able to speak Japanese for the two of them to grow close and really know each other’s hearts. I think they both wore their hearts on their sleeves.

Juno had the sweetest little doll face. Her smile was so genuine and sincere; she had these beautiful little freckles by one eye that made her so unique. Juno was not only beautiful but radiated sweet humbleness.

Grace and Juno really did become quite good friends over the next four months. Their teacher, Mrs. Stephens, had given Grace the assignment to help Juno around the school, help her communicate with the teacher, keep Juno on pace with what they were doing in class, and just be a friend to her. Mrs. Stephens is quite creative, knowing Grace’s personality and how easily distracted she is, this gave her an important responsibility that was meaningful and a goal that was achievable for Grace. I think it also helped keep Grace on track; knowing she had to help Juno made it more important for her.

Ever since Grace started school, she has always had a difficult time making friends. Anyone who knows Grace would have a hard time believing this, especially since she is so very friendly. In fact, when I have said that in conversation to friends of mine, they immediately doubt me and think that I am being critical of her; but I’m not. It’s true that it doesn’t make sense though. Grace is always so quick to give hugs and kind greetings to people she knows and loves, and already feels loved by. However, starting when Grace was in pre-school, she would go out to the playground, find something to do, and go at it alone, with no effort to interact with any of the other kids; it just didn’t come natural for her. Then in Kindergarten, her next teacher noticed the same thing, she would go out to recess and just play alone, she would get into her own little happy place in her mind and didn’t seem to care about anything else. I called it “Grace-land Space-land.” Grace’s Kindergarten teacher was such a doll, she didn’t like to see kids playing alone so she set Grace up with some friends that she felt matched her personality. It worked out fine and she started to see that there are options aside from playing alone.

She’s in third grade now, and for some reason, still responds best to being “set up” with a friend. Mrs. Stephens must have been inspired to choose Grace to sit by Juno and help Juno. I think this small gesture on Mrs. Stephens’s part made a huge difference in Grace’s life forever. I don’t know if Grace would have made friends with Juno out on the playground on her own—she just needed that little introduction and encouragement.

We had Juno over at our home for several play dates and Juno also had Grace in her home many times. They were living in our neighborhood so it was convenient for both of us. Juno’s mom was a sweet lady. She was a beautiful young mother, stylish and fit. She was a dancer and had the beautiful figure that comes with it. Her English lacked but we were able to communicate enough to arrange the children’s play dates and plan a Sushi lunch date that never panned out.

The three girls; Grace, Juno and Doreen all grew very close together and would play together every day at school. I get the feeling that “two’s company, three’s a crowd” didn’t apply to them. They are all three such kind, sweet, loving little girls and all have hearts of gold.

On the last week of school before Christmas break, Grace came to me heartbroken and devastated. On the verge of tears, she said “Juno is moving back to Japan, Mommy.”

“What? That’s impossible; she hasn’t even been here four months.” I said. “Are you sure you’ve got it right? She’s probably just going back for Christmas break.”

“No, Mommy” she starts to cry, “She’s moving back to Japan, she has to clean out her desk and take everything with her.”

The next day at school I saw Juno’s mom and confirmed it with her. It was a sad day for Grace and a sad day for mom too.

After school got out, Grace asked to play with Juno every day. She REALLY wanted to see her again before she went back to Japan. I assured her that we had time. I spoke to Juno’s mom and I knew when they were leaving and when they were available to play.

Juno came over to play one last time, and of course as is typical for Japanese culture, brought a gift for Grace. It was a beautiful crystal clear, heart shaped, beaded bracelet with all the colors of the rainbow in pastels. Grace loved it. Ironically Grace gave Juno a friendship bracelet with three silver peace sign charms in the shapes of hearts.

It was a sad good-bye. They invited us to come to Japan to stay with them and visit, but the truth is, we will probably never see them again. We agreed for the girls to be “pen pals” through email. We exchanged email addresses and the girls have emailed a little bit over the break. Juno’s mom sent pictures of Juno and her sister playing in the snow in front of their house. Grace asks every day if she can email Juno, and writes her letters with beautiful drawings during church sacrament meeting on Sundays. Grace really is heart broken about Juno leaving.

When school started back up in January, Grace wasn’t really excited because Juno wouldn’t be there. She still had her sweet friend Doreen, but to make matters worse, Doreen went to Laos, Vietnam over the break and didn’t come back in time for school to start. Everyday I would pick up the girls from school and Grace would be so sad, no Juno and no Doreen = no best friends. She said she didn’t have anyone to play with on the playground. Grace became less interested in going to school. She would talk in anticipation of Doreen’s return from Laos everyday: “Mommy, I can’t wait for Doreen to come back; and she promised me she would bring me something back from Laos” she said.

“Ok, Grace” I told her, “but just remember, sometimes kids tell their friends they're going to buy them things, but in reality the parents are the ones who have the money, so she needs to ask her parents first, so don’t be sad if she doesn’t have anything, just be happy that she made it home safe on the airplane, and that you have your friend back, okay?”

Over a week went by before Doreen returned from Laos. I pulled up after school to pick up the girls. Katie and Emily came right up to the car, but not Grace. I looked around for Grace and saw her up on the grass talking with Doreen and her mom. When Grace came to the car she was clinging tight to a toy elephant about the size of a football, heavily decorated and hand stitched with all sorts of bright, beautiful colors. Grace could have lit up a dark room. Nothing could have made her happier than to have her friend Doreen back, and just knowing that Doreen was thinking of her during her trip to Laos, made Grace happier than a clam.

I love my little Grace so much. She really is an amazing girl and a really great friend too.



Aunt Pam's Cranberry Pomegranate Relish

My Aunt Pam created this recipe years ago and it has been a huge hit ever since. It seems every time I make it, someone wants the recipe. It is definitely a family favorite, and it is ALWAYS on the table at our Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. We eat it every which way we can and make a ton extra on Thanksgiving eve to last us for the entire week. I eat it for breakfast, and lunch, and snacks. With turkey, in a turkey sandwich, with salad, with our pies, with cool whip, or whipping cream, with yogurt, and/or cottage cheese or just all by itself.

I am pretty confident that this recipe was developed around the pomegranates, my grandfather had a tree in his backyard and my aunt liked to use the pomegranates.
Ok, so one thing I REALLY love about this recipe is that it sort of tricks your mouth. I know some people don't love the hard part of the seed inside the pomegranate seed, but you won't even realize they are there if you chop the nuts up really small like the size of the pomegranate seeds then your mouth just thinks you are eating the little minced nuts.

Try NOT to do this recipe without the nuts. I know some people have nut allergies, but just bring your epi pen, it's worth it...j/k but seriously if you don't go into anaphylactic shock from eating nuts then this recipe is worth eating nuts for. My brother-in-law always comes to Thanksgiving prepared to rinse his mouth out with baking soda to get the nut allergy itches out of his throat after eating it. I actually make him a special one with Almonds instead of the walnuts or pecans. He's not as allergic to Almonds for some reason.

There are 2 versions. One is my Aunt Pam's original version, then following that is my tripled version. The tripled version isn't even enough for my family of pigs, we practically have to triple it twice. Plus everyone always wants their own little take-home-dish after; It's sort of like the party favor at the end of Thanksgiving. My dad’s late cousin Vicki started this tradition, as she would always call me before Thanksgiving to remind me to make extra relish so she could have her own little container to take home. Then everyone would get all jealous and want their own too. I buy those little glad ware containers and stack them in the fridge on Thanksgiving eve.

One year I made a mistake and tripled the recipe but didn’t realize that I only had enough raspberries to double the recipe. It was too late though; I had already dissolved the jello in all the hot water and didn’t want to waste. I figured I could use whatever kind of fruit I felt like using to replace the missing raspberries. I filled in with canned mandarin orange segments. That was the year I shared the relish with my friend Lori. Now, Lori forever prefers this recipe with the oranges. However, that was also the year that my sister-in-law Hope realized she liked it done correctly, the first way she had experienced it, without the oranges. I still get a kick out of that. I’ll eat practically anything so either way is fine with me.

Last year I gave this recipe to a friend of mine. She was a little confused about how to make it and couldn't get a hold of me in time. She thought she needed to follow the instructions on the jello package for the amount of water it says, plus the water from this recipe. NOOOOOOOO! Don't do that please. Just follow Aunt Pam's recipe, do not follow the recipe on the Jello package.

Also, be prepared to have ugly yellow stained hands for a week from peeling pomegranate seeds. I actually suggest if you’ve had a manicure recently and you don’t want to ruin it, you have a man peel out the pomegranate seeds, unless you want an excuse to go get a manicure. It's sort of our family tradition that my husband Richard does this job. He sits at the table and does it while watching TV, it's the one time of year he scores points with me while watching TV. Some say to peel the pomegranates under water, and some say to buy them already peeled, but when you have friends with pomegranate trees, it makes sense to use them--not the friends, the pomegranates.

So about 7 years ago the stores stopped selling 10 oz. containers of frozen sweetened raspberries so I had to figure something else out. The 12 oz. bags are fine, a couple extra ounces of raspberries won't make a difference in the recipe; however, the fact that the bags are not sweetened enough will make a difference. Some bags say that they’re sweetened but it’s still not enough to balance out the fresh cranberries--trust me, this is coming from someone who prepares apple juice 1 part juice, and 1 part water and it’s still too sweet! So add about ¼ cup of sugar into the jello and hot water at the beginning so it dissolves. Then, BEFORE you pour it into the fancy jello molds--or your glad ware containers--drink a glass of it, and see for yourself if it’s sweet enough--it's like cold pomegranate soup.
Pam’s Cranberry Pomegranate Relish

• 1    3 oz. package orange jello
• 1    3 oz package raspberry jello (you can replace these 2 little jello’s for 1 big 6 oz. package (I hear the 3 oz. packages are hard to come by now), a nice alternative is the new cran raspberry flavor, but stick with orange, raspberry, or cran-raspberry, don't do cherry or strawberry, or anything else!)
• Dissolve above in 2 cups of boiling water (You'll need to add about ¼ cup of sugar to this, read the explanation above)
• Add: 2 10 oz. packages of frozen raspberries and stir until thawed (You'll probably have to do the 12 oz. bags because I can't find 10 oz. cans sweetened raspberries anymore)
• Add: 1 bag fresh cranberries finely chopped (food processor makes this fast and simple)
• 1 cup chopped walnuts, or pecans or almonds
• Seeds from 1 (large) pomegranate, or 2 small pomegranates

Mix well, refrigerate overnight or several hours in jello molds. To get the relish out of the jello molds, still looking pretty. I like to dip the jellp mold in a hot water bath for about 5 - 10 seconds, then take place my pretty dish upside down, on top of the relish, then flip the whole thing over and let the relish fall out on to the plate. I prefer to use the plastic flexible jello molds that you can sort of squeeze the suction out of a little to get it to all fall out nicely. This little process makes it easy to travel with, then you can flip it for the presentation when you get to your location. Also, if you are traveling with it un-refridgerated for some time, you may want to skip the hot water part.


Pam’s Cranberry Relish tripled and updated

• 3    6 oz. packages orange jello, and/or raspberry jello, or cran-raspberry
• 1/2 – ¾ cup sugar (I think it just depends on how tart your cranberries and pomegranates are and how sweet you like your relish, just try it before you set it, and if you have to stir in a little more sugar---go for it!)
• Dissolve above in 6 cups of boiling water
• Add: 60 oz. frozen raspberries and stir until thawed (5 12 oz. bags)
• Add: 3 bags fresh cranberries finely chopped (food processor makes this fast and simple)
• 3 cups chopped walnuts, pecans or almonds
• Seeds from 3 large pomegranates

Mix well, refrigerate overnight or several hours in jello molds. To get the relish out of the jello molds, still looking pretty. I like to dip the jellp mold in a hot water bath for about 5 - 10 seconds, then take place my pretty dish upside down, on top of the relish, then flip the whole thing over and let the relish fall out on to the plate. I prefer to use the plastic flexible jello molds that you can sort of squeeze the suction out of a little to get it to all fall out nicely. This little process makes it easy to travel with, then you can flip it for the presentation when you get to your location. Also, if you are traveling with it un-refridgerated for some time, you may want to skip the hot water part.

Not Just any Lost Dog

“Kelly, could you roll the hose back into the hose box next time you water? I’m tired of cutting the hose off to re-attach the nozzle!”

Richard wasn’t happy about our yard problems that were a result of our dog. Madeline’s psychological behaviors were carrying over into our yard, especially with our hose. She had some sort of dog version of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and would attack the hose like it was a snake and kill it—literally. It’s impossible to water anything out back when Maddy--as we nick named her--is on the loose. She attacks the water coming out of the hose while drinking it at high pressure. She doesn’t stop for any reason…..wait, except to purge, and then she’ll start another binge with the hose water just long enough to purge again. She does this over and over again. It reminds me of a certain type of eating disorder I remember from a Psychology and Behavioral Nutrition class I took during my college days as a Dietetics major.

When Richard would go out to use the hose the next time, the holes she tore into it would burst out like a geyser, right at his face, legs and feet; by the time the water got to the end of the hose, there was no pressure to water anything. By then he would already be soaked. Our hose gets shorter by the week. Every time Maddy attacks the hose, Richard cuts it so that all the tear holes from the attack are cut off. Then he re attaches the nozzle to the hose—just like new; only temporarily until she attacks it again. There’s one thing about Maddy that is predictable; the consistency of her psychotic rituals.

She’s a Jack Russell Terrier and she was our first dog as a married couple. We had returned home from Provo, Utah after graduating from Brigham Young University. My parents were buying a new larger home and were selling my childhood home, so we bought my childhood home from them. At about the same time, my Uncle Wayne had a really great Jack Russell Terrier named Louie who was in demand as a stud dog. They lived in Temecula and had horses; the Jack Russell was a great breed for them because Jack Russell’s have an affinity for horses. They actually ride on top of the horses and run them for the owners. When Louie was successfully studded out, my uncle would get the pick of the litter or a $750 stud fee, his choice. He chose the pick of the litter with this particular mating because he was so fond of the mother dog and fell in love with Maddy immediately.

His decision to keep Maddy was not one based on intelligence but more on his swelling heart. They already had 3 large dogs; a German Shepard, a black lab, and a very large Yellow Lab that got fat from eating avocados that fell from the 80 trees on their ranch. They also had several other Jack Russell Terriers. All these dogs were not excited about Maddy joining their family and it became too difficult to manage so many animals. Since Maddy was the last one in, she had to be the first one out. My uncle felt too attached to send her back, never to be seen again; so he showed up at my door with her. If he could get me to take her, then he would have access to her. Maddy was irresistible, 8 weeks old, not more than 4 lbs, and Richard and I fell in love at first sight. I never dreamed of having a small dog; I never liked small dogs. I grew up with big dogs; black labs and golden retrievers. Richard grew up with Poodles; Maddy was the perfect compromise. There was no excuse for us not to take her. She was free and we had a yard for her.

We were still a young married couple and we didn’t have any children yet so Maddy didn’t have to share us with anyone. We took her everywhere with us and she was our baby. When I got pregnant I would ask my mother, who had 6 children of her own; “How am I going to love a child as much as I love Maddy?”

My mom would just laugh me off, like I was crazy, but she understood. When I had the baby, poor Maddy got ripped off; but she didn’t mind, she LOVED Emily. She grew to LOVE kids and wouldn’t bite a person if they sat on her. Maddy maxed out at a whopping 12 lbs.

We rented out a room in our house to our friend Dennis. He was also a friend of my Uncle Wayne’s. Dennis came home one day from my Uncle’s Temecula ranch with a puppy. He named it Humphrey Bogart, Bogey for short. Maddy and Bogey were actually siblings. Bogey was also a descendent of Louie but had a different mom. Maddy and Bogey became best buddies. It worked well for us, especially since we had a new baby and were not paying as much attention to Maddy.

Maddy was so genuine and loveable, careless and carefree, crazy and fun, sweet and curious, and super funny. She was funny enough to video record her crazy behaviors and send them in to Funniest Home Videos. She enjoyed attacking the light from a laser beam, a flashlight, or even the reflection from the face of my watch--and she would do it until her nose bled. Everywhere we took her, she drew crowds. At our community’s annual 4th of July party in the park, people are always drawn to her. She could play fetch for hours. Maddy is like a risky, naughty, bold, super fun, and funny friend who would do anything for you; everyone has one of those don’t they? I’m thinking of mine right now.

Maddy also grew up to be an escape artist. A little adrenaline rush and she could do anything. Trying to keep her in our back yard is the equivalent of trying to keep a cat in our back yard—nearly impossible. She has a tendency to be distracted by rats, birds, and bunny rabbits and they motivate her to run. With a little adrenaline, Maddy can jump leaps and bounds. She could chase the bunnies all day long and never get tired or bored. Maddy has turned out to be quite costly. The neighbors next door got tired of her jumping into their yard so they asked us to fix the fence we share. We spent over $2000 on a wrought iron fence to keep her contained; it didn’t really work very well. Then we had to build a dog run. Maddy hates the dog run and also found out how to escape it. We haven’t figured out how she gets out yet. We’re about ready to invest in a hidden camera system.

On Monday night I was bringing groceries into the house; I had both hands full so I opened the front door by raising my leg up and pushing the handle down with my foot while kicking in on the door. While I was walking to the kitchen with the groceries, Richard went into the back yard to get the dogs to bring them in for the night. When they saw the open front door, they bolted like lightening down our street and turned the corner in a matter of seconds. Once they turned the corner, there’s no telling if they went up the street by the pool, or around the block to “the canyon” as we called it as kids, but now named “Peliconi Park” by the city. Either way, there are small rodents to terrorize, which is why I call them “Jack Russell Terrorists.” Well, that, and also because they terrorize us with their disappearances.

Now, I admit, this happens occasionally; on average about two or three times a month. We always go running or driving after them and they always come back eventually when we do. Monday night was different. Richard couldn’t find them. It was really dark, and he thought they might have gone into “the canyon.” He looked for them for over an hour. He came home exhausted and went to bed. I couldn’t sleep so I took the next shift until about 11:30 pm and then I came home exhausted. I still couldn’t sleep knowing my 2 little dogs were out running with the coyotes. Maddy’s been attacked by coyotes twice, and barely survived the second time. The vet declared her the most stoic dog he had ever known. I laid down in bed, exhausted. I felt horrible that I had locked up the house as if the case was closed and they were dead and gone; however, I didn’t feel safe leaving the front door cracked open. If I fell asleep, my children wouldn’t be safe. I argued each side tormenting myself. I opted to crack the door so the dogs could get in if they came home. I gave one last shot at yelling their names, by this time it was close to midnight:

“MAAAAAADDDYYYYY…..BOOOOOGGGEEEYYYYY!” I yelled out into my neighborhood in the middle of the night, knowing how much my neighbors must love me now. Especially the ones next door who sleep with their windows wide open, the ones who have no children or pets; need I say more? Within 5 minutes Bogey came running into my bedroom, tail wagging, frantic and frazzled.

“Where’s Maddy?” I asked him. “Bogey, where’s Maddy?....Let’s go find her together!”

We drove all over our neighborhood and the surrounding neighborhoods looking for Maddy. Bogey had his head hanging out the passenger window; he was actually looking for Maddy too. Usually they stick together when they get out, but Maddy is much faster than Bogey, she is the leader of the pack. If Bogey can’t keep up with her, she doesn’t wait for him. I continued to call her name out occasionally:

“MAAAAADDDDDYYYYYY!” I yelled, honestly trying not to wake up the entire neighborhood but also not really caring knowing that the longer it took to find her, the further away she could be and the more likely to be eaten by a predator.

It was 2 am now and I was exhausted, we went home and Bogey slept in bed with us. I could not sleep. I dreamt that Maddy came back and I felt the relief, but then woke up and reality set in. I fell back asleep again. This time I dreamt that Maddy was gone forever and I had to move on, then I woke up with a lump in my throat and couldn’t go back to sleep. I got up and yelled her name out the front door; I kept it cracked open, went back to bed and prayed. This went on all night long.

When morning came I got the kids off to school and Bogey and I started our mission to find Maddy. We scoured all the wilderness areas around our neighborhood; starting behind the tennis courts and pool. The hills were steep, awkward, heavily vegetated and difficult to hike. The coyote dens inside the dead, broken trees gave me the chills. I imagined Maddy’s dead body inside one of the dens and living the rest of my life, never knowing her fate. It reminded me of our childhood cat Buffy, who was eaten by coyotes, as most of our cats were. The difference with this one was that one of our neighbors found her head in their back yard and body in the front yard. I didn’t want to find Maddy if she was dead, but at the same time, I wanted to know her fate so I could move on. Richard told me if I found any parts of her, to bag them so we could burry her in the back yard. He was serious, I was dying inside.

It was such a beautiful, peaceful, quiet day, so quiet I could hear all the birds chirping in the trees. When the bushes rustled from the bunny rabbits, my heart would skip a beat, hoping it was Maddy coming through to answer my calls. The sky was cloudless and as blue as I had ever seen it, everything was fresh, clean and green. The recent rains had beautified all the earth and the dirt was saturated, wet and dense. It smelled like fresh sage and wildflowers as I combed through the shrubs, breaking small branches, stepping on the blooms and releasing all the scents. I climbed to the top of the steepest, highest hill near our house and looked down into the canyon, scanning back and forth looking and calling for Maddy. The panoramic views were amazing. To my left, I could see the hustle and bustle of the world; the 91 freeway with thousands of cars hurrying to their destinations, but there were no freeway sounds, only the peaceful sounds of nature. To my right, practically the entire West Anaheim Hills, including open areas that were a deep hue of green; I have never been to Ireland but I felt like I was there. I stared into backyards and any open areas, looking for anything white and moving.

I probably called for Maddy over 100 times. I felt at peace with my surroundings and just sat with Bogey and cried. I cried until I felt at peace with Maddy being in heaven, knowing I would see her again someday. I thought about her age. She was 10 years old, going on 11 and although her life was cut short, she had lived long. Was it possible this was a blessing in disguise? Is it possible that the alternative way of loosing Maddy in the future would have been worse? I thought about her recent visit to the Animal Hospital in the middle of the night. She had a liver infection and was very ill. She still had another day left of her antibiotics when she disappeared. Was it better that she go like this, than for the kids to find her dead body in the back yard, or in the street after getting hit by a car? I felt like all my prayers for her safe return were in vain. Maddy had never been gone this long, never more than 1 day. I worried the kids’ prayers to find Maddy would be unanswered and shake their sweet, innocent, childlike faith.

Time flew by. Katie and her friend would be waiting for me at school if I didn’t book it to the bottom of the hill. I was trying to think of the best and fastest way down when my dear friend Kellie called. She was worried about me--knowing I was depressed and hell bent on finding Maddy—so she offered to pick up our kids. She asked where I was and then drove to the top of the street to the houses behind. I could see her car through the wrought iron fence of the house behind me, so I climbed the wall to get to her.

I had to make every effort possible so after the big girls got out of school, Emily and I decided to make posters and hang them all over the area. I found a recent picture of Maddy and spent the entire afternoon and evening hanging the posters with Emily. Every time a car would drive by, Emily would wave her “Lost Dog” poster like those advertisement clown guys that stand in front of stores, being paid to dance like idiots in an attempt to get your attention. We saw countless friends and neighbors drive by. They would make sad faces at us, and assure us that they would look for her.

I had my cell phone with me every second of every minute; especially now that my cell phone number was plastered all over the town. I ALWAYS answered hoping that it was good news about Maddy. The software on my phone wasn’t working properly and a warranty replacement phone had come in the mail. It was on my mile long list of things to do, to call Verizon and get my service and data switched to the new phone.

The next morning I woke up with a lump in my throat. I felt awful; how could the world continue on when my Maddy was gone? It was day 3 now and I had to move on. I tried to minimalize my pain by thinking of all the parents out there whose children have gone missing. Grateful it was Maddy and not my child I thought about the statistics of missing children returning home after 3 days being gone and knew that it was much less likely after the first day, and less and less as each day passed. Trying to move on and tackle my mile long list, I began by calling Verizon. I had the customer service gentleman on speakerphone as he patiently waited while I tried to activate my new cell phone. Benjamin was screaming commands at me so I apologized to the man and excused Ben as my demanding 2 year old boy wanting my immediate attention especially since I picked up the phone. He patiently understood from experience as he also has a 2 year old. Then my doorbell rang so I asked him to hold on again. As I opened the door, there she was! I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I couldn’t believe my eyes, a woman, an angel, was there at my door holding Maddy in her arms. I reached out and Maddy jumped to me. Maddy’s excitement to be home was evident by her wagging tail, and hyper craziness. Her body was hot from running around in the sun. I could feel the grimy layers of shrub and of dirt all over her. She smelled like a combination of a stinky gross bathroom and dry desert sage. I broke down crying and couldn’t let go. I can’t remember the last time I cried so many tears of joy. The Verizon man on the other end of the line heard it all. I think I cried for a half hour straight. I called Richard at work during class. I was crying so hard, I couldn’t talk clearly. He was worried so I tried to get it together and I spit it out:

“MADDY’S BACK!” I told him.

“Huh? Maddy’s dead?” he said.

“NO! MADDY’S BACK!” I exclaimed, “SHE’S ALIVE, SHE’S BACK! A lady saw our signs, and saw Maddy wandering around, she thought it was the dog in the pictures so she brought her home. SHE’S HOME!” I cried.

Needless, to say, Richard was more than happy to receive that interrupting phone call, and also relieved.

My dear friend Kellie went to pick the kindergartners up at school. I asked her to tell the big girls that we found Maddy. She took them over to the grass at school and huddled everyone together: Emily, Grace, Katie, and her 2 children, their good friends. When she told them they started jumping up and down and flipping out, they practically knocked her down. Together they said a prayer of thanks for finding Maddy and went back out to play.

We didn’t realize how much we really LOVED Maddy, we do now.