Tag Archives: Momcat

Puppet Show

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While looking for old tax paperwork on my hard drive, I started poking around to see what other files I had floating around on the computer. I found this video I made back in 2009.

Some backstory: A couple months after Momcat died, my friend & I were cleaning out a corner of the basement and discovered several large plastic trash cans full of my childhood clothes. There was a lot of ugly 70s plaid in there: pants, jumpers, dresses. A couple handknit ponchos. And some bright yellow tights. It was not pretty.

But when I found these gloves I got all excited. I remember wearing them as a kid and how fun it was to pretend each finger was a different character.

So, ladies and gentlemen, we are proud to present…a completely ridiculous puppet show starring Moxie and her childhood gloves. Save all applause and questions for the end.

Paint It Black Friday

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My dear friend Ms. Chick recently wrote a blog post about Black Friday. After reading it, I started to comment, then realized it would make for a better blog post.

Ms. Chick’s post focuses on the madness that is Black Friday sales, and how they are starting earlier and earlier each year. The discount stores such as Wal-Mart and Kmart are fond of late Thursday sales. I know people who thrive on mingling with large crowds to get their holiday shopping done. Possibly they get an adrenaline rush from the experience. As for me, I’m not a fan of shopping on Black Friday, though I admit to occasionally hanging out at malls & shopping centers the day after Thanksgiving to people watch. I’m a fiction writer, so this constitutes research.

Where I took issue, though, is with the end of her post:

It’s not like someone has a denominational difference that would prevent them from celebrating Thanksgiving.  It’s a purely secular holiday.

 

…It’s just that is whatever you are going to buy so important that you have to give up sleep and time with family/friends in order to obtain it? Not to mention possibly trample someone? And do you really need to see a movie on Thanksgiving?  Can’t you wait until the next day or watch something at home?

The holidays are a really tough time for folks who can’t be with family or friends for whatever reason, or their family is so freakin’ dysfunctional that it’s easier to be on their own. Even before Momcat died, I wasn’t a big fan of the Thanksgiving/Christmas season: I always had high expectations, only to end up feeling let down. There were several years when I made a point of doing nothing for either holiday because I wanted the freedom to do what I wanted, when I wanted, and with whom I wanted. There were other years in which I spent holidays with friends and those were really fun times. Again, it’s what fiction writers call research.

What it comes down to is this: I love my family and friends, and yet during the holiday season it can be so difficult for me to love them as fully as I normally would. Spending time with them can also be difficult. This has nothing to do with them and everything to do with me. Yet being alone is just as hard, because my brain loops back through all those memories of holidays gone by and lost loved ones, which makes me feel much worse. Despite all this, I try to find ways to make the holidays pleasant for myself, because dwelling on the used-to-be’s and the remember-back-when’s can be emotionally crippling. I think that’s why I love the original version of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”, because of these lines:

Someday soon we all will be together

If the fates allow

Until then we’ll have to muddle through somehow

For that reason, escaping to a shopping mall or movie theatre, where I can float anonymously through a sea of humanity, sounds like a good way to muddle through.

My Declaration of Independence: the 2012 Edition

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As many of my semi-regular readers know, every year I use Independence Day as an opportunity to declare my own personal independence from something. (You can read the background here.) Frequently I use the text written by our Founding Fathers as the basis for my own declaration. This year I’m doing it a little differently. Probably because this year’s declaration is harder for me, but, as I am discovering, it’s necessary for my health and well being.

I’m declaring my independence from gluten.

This is not about me jumping on the Paleo bandwagon – I’m way too picky about meat and fish to go full Paleo – or following what seems to be a trend among some circles. This is about my health, and my belief that Momcat’s early death was the result of undiagnosed celiac disease.

A quick gluten and celiac disease primer:

  • Gluten is a protein composite found in foods processed from wheat and related grains, such as barley and rye.
  • Gluten adds elasticity to dough – it gives bread its chewy texture and helps it rise.
  • Gluten is often added to foods as a stabilizer, or to add protein.
  • Celiac disease is a chronic, hereditary, autoimmune disease. If someone with celiac disease eats something containing gluten, their small intestine becomes inflamed and damaged. They may experience diarrhea, nausea, or bloating. And they end up not absorbing necessary nutrients from food, all because their body can’t process it.
  • Someone who is undiagnosed with celiac and continues to eat gluten may become more susceptible to other autoimmune disorders, such as fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue syndrome, and rheumatoid arthritis. They may have unexplained skin rashes that do not go away. They may have gall bladder, liver, or kidney problems. They may suffer from depression, anxiety, or other mental health issues. They may have problems with their teeth. Their hair may thin or fall out. They may be constantly tired or fatigued. (You can find a more comprehensive list here.)

Momcat had a lot of the above symptoms for years. A month before she died, I asked her if she’d ever been tested for celiac. She muttered something about the test coming up negative. But anyone who’s ever been to the doctor and had blood tests know that sometimes tests aren’t accurate, and that diagnostic tests, especially for food allergies, tend to improve over the years .

I’ll never know for sure if she had celiac. But I know how I feel when I eat a lot of glutentastic products:

  • I get really sleepy. I call gluten my natural sedative because if I eat bread or pasta at dinner, I am guaranteed to be asleep in two hours or less.
  • I get weird rashes on my body.
  • I have a lot of gastric distress: bloating, abdominal pain, and what I will not-so-delicately refer to as poo problems.

And I know that Momcat’s sisters and my cousins suffer from a lot of the same medical issues Momcat did: fibromyalgia, arthritis, fatigue, allergies, asthma, high blood pressure. And none of them have gone gluten-free.

At this point in time, I can’t afford to get tested for celiac. But when I look at all of the evidence, it tells me that declaring my independence from gluten is the thing to do.

But giving up gluten is so damn hard. Those of you who love tortellini and cinnamon rolls and burritos and pizza and bruschetta understand this. Because even if you stay away from gluten, and you dutifully eat all the gluten-free substitutes (many of which are quite good), there are moments when gluten beckons to you and says, “Oh, come on, one little piece of pepperoni pizza won’t kill you. Look how thin the crust is! All the gluten has leaked out. Honest.”

I think of gluten as my bad boyfriend, the dark, mysterious guy with the six-pack abs, the guy who promises that this time he will treat me right. (In my fantasy, gluten looks like Joe Manganiello.) So I let him spend the night and wake up the next morning, all alone, feeling as if a fleet of moving vans ran over me, then shifted into Reverse and ran over me again. And there’s no note, no kiss goodbye, nothing. That’s because gluten is a selfish bastard.

Joe Manganiello, actor, True Blood, Magic Mike

What gluten would look like if it was a person.

So I’m going to try extra hard to live independently of gluten. But if the real Joe Manganiello knocks on my door, offering me a latte and a gluten-free cinnamon roll from Mariposa Bakery, I am so going to hit that.

 

 

 

Everything Must Change

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Three years ago today, I got reduced to part-time hours at my office job. At the time I was relieved to not be completely laid off, but still frustrated that I wouldn’t be making as much money. I told my boss, “This is a blessing because now I’ll be able to spend more time with my family.”

I didn’t know what the next year held in store for me. Because by November 15 of 2009, my grandfather, his second wife, and Momcat had all died.

Grandpa and his wife died within 24 hours of each other in January. They had been married for a little over 10 years, I think, and had a lot of affection for each other. They traveled a lot and stayed fairly healthy up to the last year of their lives. Grandpa had just turned 95 about a month earlier.

Momcat was another story. She’d been in poor health for years, with autoimmune disorders and other ailments affecting her as well as chronic anxiety and depression. In September of 2009 she fell and broke her arm. Then she got pneumonia, had a heart attack in the hospital, and in early October she died at a rehabilitation facility from what the doctors suspect was a pulmonary embolism. She was 66, just shy of turning 67.

Since then, the holidays have been tough for me. To be frank, the last 4 months of the year are hard. Remember that TV show “Quantum Leap”, where the scientist would go back in time to alter events? There’s a part of me that wishes I could go back to that moment right before Momcat broke her arm. Or do you watch “Fringe”, where there’s an alternate universe that looks very much like this one, right down to the inhabitants? Sometimes I wish I could get to that alternate universe and spend time with Momcat again.

But I’m here, in this universe and without the means to bend time or travel through it. And it’s really hard sometimes. The last few weeks have been particularly stressful, probably because it was the second anniversary of her death and this Sunday would have been the umpteenth anniversary of her 38th birthday. I’m making it through as best I can. Some days are easier than others.

I titled this post after a song by Paul Young, who was big in the 80s. Because as much as I dislike change sometimes, especially when it means people I love are no longer in this world, I’m still aware that change is a part of this silly, mysterious, crazy, sad, scary, wonderful, amazing thing called life.

My Life as a Bag Lady

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About a month ago I went to the library to have my summer reading bingo card registered in their system. Just for participating they gave me a reusable bag. And for the first time I could remember, I thought, “Another freakin’ bag?!”

bag, reusable shopping bag

The bag I got from the library for participating in Summer Reading Bingo.

See, there was a time when I was all about acquiring bags. Backpacks, book bags, grocery shopping bags, tote bags, laundry bags, little bags, medium bags, casual bags, work bags, bags with a snap, bags with a zipper, bags with a bazillion pockets. I loved and wanted them all.

Now I have reached the tipping point and I am done with bags. I hope.

There is a stash in my trunk of bags for shopping. In the green bag I have five additional bags: an insulated one for frozen/refrigerated items, one with 6 compartments for carrying bottles, and three random bags.

bags, reusable shopping bag

The bags I keep in my trunk for shopping.

I use this green and white bag from Aunt Gigi’s ranch for groceries from Trader Joe’s. She likes Trader Joe’s a lot so she’ll appreciate that.

bag, reusable shopping bag, tote bag

The logo for Aunt Gigi's ranch is on the other side, but I don't think she'd like it if I showed it here. Because then people might think she's accepting visitors and conducting tours, which she is not.

There are three other bags in my trunk that aren’t being used for shopping. This bag says it’s full of emergency supplies to last for 72 hours. As you can see I am well prepared for any emergency.

bag, emergency supply kit bag, reusable bag

My emergency supply bag: empty.

My idea of an emergency is being someplace overnight and not having deodorant or a clean shirt to wear. So I have this bag (also from Aunt Gigi) that has toiletries, a couple pairs of underwear, a t-shirt and a zip-up hoodie in it.

bag, reusable shopping bag, tote bag

My not-quite-an-emergency bag, with toiletries, a few items of clothing and a pen in it.

Early last year I picked up some maps at AAA. They used to use small plastic bags you could repurpose as a garbage bag for your car. Now they are all eco-friendly with their blue reusable bags.

reusable shopping bag, tote bag

This bag is full of maps and stays in the trunk. Because that's the best place for maps when you're driving and you don't know where you're going and the GPS isn't working right.

Aunt Gigi likes to use tote bags as Christmas stockings. This red bag was one of my favorites from her: it has a top zipper and all sorts of little pockets on the inside.

Christmas, shopping bag, bags, reusable shopping bags

This red bag has lots of pockets inside and out, plus nice long handles. I often use it to haul small loads of laundry back and forth from the laundry room.

There is the purple bag I bought a few years ago because it had an OM on one side and I thought it would be a cool bag for taking to yoga. I haven’t taken a yoga class in over a year.

yoga, exercise, bags, reusable shopping bag, OM

Purple bag with OM symbol - one of the few bags I actually paid for.

There are the bags I got from Momcat’s collection. She was also a big lover of bags. The Washington Metro bag (top) has been around probably just as long – the Metro map on the bag shows the Green Line as being in progress, but it’s actually been completed for several years now. I use it for hauling laundry to Giles’ place when I don’t have enough quarters to do laundry at my building. The Smithsonian one (bottom) has been around since the early ’80s and was often used as a library book bag. I have been using it to hold the crap I am trying to sell on eBay.

Momcat, bags, reusable shopping bags, library, books, shopping

Two bags from Momcat's collection

Then there are several bags I received as a thank you for attending an event or participating in something. (Yes, that’s the bag from the library on the left. Weird how these bags are all green.)

shopping bags, bags, reusable shopping bags, giveaways, promotions

Three recent additions to my bag collection.

This Target bag was a freebie in an issue of Vanity Fair about 3 years ago. It’s made of this thin nylon so it’s good for sticking in another bag, just in case the first bag gets too full and I need another one.

Target, bags, shopping bags, reusable shopping bags

This bag is good for carrying in a purse or other bag because it folds up nicely.

But sometimes a casual canvas or nylon bag emblazoned with advertising for a product/service/vacation destination will not do. Enter the work/play bags.

backpack, work, bags, totes, play, laptop

The bags I use for carrying around my laptop and work stuff.

I got the lilac bag from Target several years ago. T-Wizzle is going to be mad when she sees this picture because it reminds her how she saw this bag in white and wanted it, but did not buy it. I don’t know why she didn’t, it was only $25 and it’s a fantastic bag. But I better shut up now before she gets even more pissed off.

The brown bag is my fall/winter work bag – I’m using it currently even though it is not quite fall here in Sacramento. I don’t know when we will actually see autumn weather, but I figure if I use the fall/winter bag, it will come. Maybe.

The backpack is for when I am schlepping around a bunch of crap in addition to my laptop and I don’t want to dislocate my shoulder carrying around the lilac or brown bag.

For those times when the big bags are too big, I have small bags.

bags, reusable shopping bags, beach bag, tote

This bag is the oldest in my collection and one of my favorites.

Aunt Olivia made this blue denim bag for me when I was in the single digits, which was twentithirtyish years ago. It’s still in great condition, aside from some fraying of the fabric on the handles. I like using it to haul around my e-reader, journal and some pens.

bag, reusable shopping bags, totes, T-Wizzle

T-Wizzle's fun design just for me, the blue-eyed badass.

Several years ago T-Wizzle was into making designs for t-shirts, tank tops and tote bags. She made this one just for me: it says Blue-Eyed BadAss and has a cartoon of a brunette with blue eyes on it. I used to use it to carry my lunch to work, back when I still worked in an office. I figured if the fridge broke and it was being cleaned out and they were trying to find out what stuff belonged to what person, I could say, “Mine’s the one that says ‘Blue-Eyed Bad Ass’.” Kind of like Jules from Pulp Fiction.

By my count, that makes 22 bags. I don’t even own that many pairs of shoes. At this rate I’m gonna get my Girl Card revoked.

Hard Habits to Break

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When I was a kid, Momcat and Pops had specific ways of doing things but didn’t necessarily have reasons as to why they did these things the way they did. It was likely the way they were taught by their parents, and their parents before them. These things ranged from food preferences to cooking styles. Momcat did not use any other white rice but Uncle Ben’s Converted Long Grain, nor did she ever buy white bread, grape jelly or shredded cheese. We never had honey in the house because Pops hated it. All of our towels came in sets of two and included a matching hand towel and washcloth. When I got my driver’s license and started driving the family vehicles, Momcat was vigilant in letting me know I needed to move the seat all the way back when I was done using the car, because the next person driving the car might be Pops and he needed more legroom. And you never, NEVER, put a bumper sticker on a car.

Once I was living on my own, I did a lot of things the same way as I was taught. I bought block cheese and shredded it as needed. I never bought honey. My towel sets were always two bath, two hand and two washcloths. I always pushed the driver’s seat all the way back when I got out of the car – even though it was my car and no one else was driving it.

It took me a while to realize that a number of these habits weren’t really Moxie originals – I had taken them on because they had been instilled in me by my parents.  I started questioning each one. Was oatmeal for breakfast something I really liked? No. I like oatmeal but it doesn’t fill me up. Same with cereal. So I stopped buying cereal. I stopped drinking most juices because they gave me heartburn. Tired of shredding my fingers on the cheese grater, I stopped buying block cheese and now I only buy shredded. On my 30th birthday, for the first time ever, I had honey in my peppermint tea and was astounded at how good it was. Now I’m never without a jar of honey. And the bumper sticker thing? I put a window cling for my alma mater in my car’s back window and Momcat lit into me when she saw it. “WE do NOT put stickers on OUR cars!” she said, glaring at me.

Some of those habits, have passed my idiosyncrasy litmus test. While I may not be buying Uncle Ben’s anymore, Momcat’s rice cooking methods (2:1 ratio, boil water, add rice, cover, lower heat, DO NOT LIFT THE LID) have proven to be failproof. I like having handtowels because I use them to dry my hair – the bath sheets I prefer to buy are way too big for my head. And while grape jelly is fun to eat, especially with peanut butter, there’s something quite spectacular about apricot preserves or a lovely mixed berry jam on good bread.

Oh, and the driver’s seat? As it so happens, the car I’m currently driving has a programmable seat. I positioned the seat just the way I wanted it, then I pressed a button that saved the settings. Now every time I turn on the ignition, the seat automatically moves to where I want it, and slides back when I turn off the engine. God bless technology.

What habits were passed down to you from your parents?

In Remembrance

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Today Momcat would have been – oh, let’s say she would have been celebrating the anniversary of her 49th birthday. I think of her every day and miss her terribly, and while I’ve tried several times before to write something about her for the blog I’ve gotten way too emotional and couldn’t finish. The writer in me is frustrated by my inability to finish these tributes; the grieving daughter in me is relieved to not have to attempt to articulate it all so very publicly.

I started going to a support group this year, which was a big step for me. The first meeting was difficult but the ones after that were much easier. As the group leader said to us, “The more you talk about your loved one, the more you acknowledge the loss, the easier it will be for you to process their death and move forward.” I think he’s right about that.

A few weeks ago I decided that a good way to remember Momcat on her birthday would be to donate to one of her favorite charities. She was a big fan of ADRA, Doctors without Borders, Habitat for Humanity and Heifer. I went to Heifer’s website to make my donation (I bought some baby chicks) and saw that I could set up a memorial registry. So I did.

If you’re doing your end-of-the-year donations and are looking for a worthy cause, I recommend looking into any of the aforementioned organizations. And if you’re so inclined to donate to Heifer in memory of Momcat, well, I thank you.

Momcat holding me outside my grandparents' house.

My Favorite Moms: Honey and Vicky

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Momcat and I have this little joke that when she calls me, she announces herself by saying “This is your favorite mother calling.” Funny, right? Yet what occurs to me now is that I’ve had several favorite mothers…women who played a key role in my growth and development into a young woman, who guided my decisions and helped me see when my behavior was less than helpful. These ladies helped in the process of mothering me, and in so doing they showed not only their support of Momcat but also their support of the female gender.

One of my favorite moms is Deena’s mom, Honey. When Deena and I were teenagers, she didn’t look like other moms at all: Honey wore trendy clothes, like Jordache jeans and fuzzy sweaters. She had a slim yet curvaceous figure and loved to flirt with men, whether it was her husband Stu or a waiter at the local Mexican restaurant. Honey had excellent posture and even rode her bike without slouching. She was vegetarian and frequented our local health food store often for vitamins, protein substitutes and whole-grain bread.

During junior high, I spent many a Friday night having dinner with Deena, Honey and Stu. Dinner usually consisted of fish sticks for me and Deena while her folks had crabcakes (they still ate seafood), roasted red potatoes and a big salad. I will never forget the salads Honey would make: iceberg lettuce tossed with tomato, onion, cucumber and chickpeas. They always tasted so fresh and amazingly good. Honey loved the local Mexican restaurant that featured a large atrium, or as she called it, “the pretty room”. We frequently went there for dinner as well, and Honey would let me and Deena have a small sip of her margarita while we waited for our food.

She was a generous woman as well. When Deena and I were 21, she would give us “going-out money” when I would visit them at their beach house in the summer. We would grab the money and treat ourselves to wine coolers, screwdrivers, chili cheese nachos at 7-11, whatever we wanted. She always wanted to make sure we had a great time together, and because she was always willing to take us to the mall or the beach or wherever, we always did have fun.

Sometimes I wasn’t very nice to Honey. I didn’t like the way she would scream at Deena sometimes, or lose patience with her lack of focus when it came to studying. She would frequently question Deena without taking a breath between each one: “How was school what did you learn where is your homework did you talk to anyone on the bus did anyone talk to you what did they serve in the cafeteria today did you see Moxie where are you going?” Deena would always seethe and respond with “I hate f—ing questions!”, which would start the screaming matches. Because of this, I frequently saw Honey as stupid and unnecessarily harsh and was very snarky and smart-assed to her. But she never once said anything nasty to me, and she often complimented me when I looked particularly cute or had some personal achievement. She was always very supportive of me. When I’d call the house for Deena, she would always make small talk and fill me in on her life. Her voice was rich and well-modulated, and she was very good about enunciating her words – her son Mitch shared this trait.

When Mitch died suddenly a little over 10 years ago, it completely devastated Honey. Watching her sob over his casket at the funeral was one of the most painful things I’ve ever witnessed. “Where is he? Where is my son?!” she wailed. Her loss did reunite her with her sisters after many years of estrangement, but it was a bittersweet reunion.

Sadly enough, Honey died this past December of colon cancer. Up until the end she was still badgering Deena with questions about me and what I was doing and when did Deena last talk to me. I’m doing okay, Honey, thanks, but I miss hearing you mispronounce “oxygen” and eating vegetarian tostadas with chips and salsa.

Vicky is my former mother-in-law and another of my favorite moms. Most people shudder a little when they hear the phrase “mother-in-law”, because our culture paints in-law relationships as being exceptionally difficult. My experience of Vicky was nothing like that at all. She’d grown up in a small Pennsylvania town near Amish country and had very close ties to her community. Vicky’s family was very large and they held annual family reunions in a local park every summer. It was at one of these reunions that I met her for the first time. Mr. Ex-Moxie (Mr. X) and I had just started dating about a month earlier, and in the course of one day I met his daughter, his former stepson and about 100 of his relatives. He was lucky I don’t scare easy.

Right away Vicky was very kind to me. Mr. X’s first wife, Naomi, had not always been the nicest daughter-in-law, so she could have chosen to be curt and nasty, dismissing me as unworthy of her son without even giving me a chance. Instead she was sweet and supportive, realizing that she couldn’t pick the people her son chose to love. She was like that with everyone.

Family gatherings at Vicky’s house were always a major event. Mr. X has 2 brothers and a sister, so when everyone was together there was lots of food and laughter. After one family dinner I said, “I ate so much, I feel like a bloated tick.” She looked at me and said, “You feel like a bloated WHAT?” and then laughed hysterically when she realized that she’d heard me wrong. Her laughter, much like Momcat’s, was contagious, and watching her convulse with giggles and get redfaced just made you laugh even harder. The family joke at holiday meals was that we would eat again once Harry, Mr. X’s dad, finished doing the dishes. Sure enough, within a few hours we’d all be grazing again. I hold the Ex-Moxies responsible for about 45 lbs. of my current weight.

Vicky was generally non-combative, unless you messed with her children or grandchildren. When Naomi decided to try and keep Vicky from seeing her granddaughter Mindy and former step-grandson Jacob, Vicky was hurt and enraged. She went to court and waged an excellent war to get visitation rights. I was so proud of her, because I knew she didn’t want to fight with anyone. But she loved her grandkids, and they loved her immensely, and she wasn’t about to give up without a fight. It broke her heart when she couldn’t spend time with Jacob anymore, because he wasn’t a blood relative and the court couldn’t demand that Naomi allow visitation. But being a very spiritual woman, she still prayed for Jacob, Naomi and everyone else. “I guess I just have to let go and let God,” she said to me once. It worked…it always did.

When Mr. X and I divorced, the hardest part was thinking I needed to divorce his family too. But Vicky didn’t see it that way. She still loved me and while she didn’t completely understand our reasons for parting, she knew it wasn’t about anyone being a bad person. “As far as I’m concerned you are still family,” she said to me. For a while I would write to her occasionally and send cards or letters. She would reply when she had time, even sending me Christmas and birthday cards. When Mr. X got very sick a few years ago, she was the first one I called to find out what was happening. She was always pleasant on the phone, and her round-up of everyone’s well-being was usually summed up with “We are all still fat and sassy.”

A few months ago Vicky was diagnosed with leukemia, and even though the doctors tried chemotherapy and blood transfusions, it was not enough. She died this past Saturday. My heart aches for Mr. X and his family, and I wish I could be there to help memorialize Vicky with them. Instead I write this tribute, tears running down my face, still trying to figure out how she – and Honey – could really be gone, and how it is that they had such great capacity to love. I can only guess that it’s just a mom thing.

In Memory of Honey: “Take Your Mama” by Scissor Sisters

In Memory of Vicky: “A Song for Mama” by Boyz II Men

Friday’s Hot Tip: What’s Cookin’?

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I like it when I can cook a really tasty meal using only one pot or pan. Being a fan of pasta and rice dishes makes one-pot cooking next to impossible at times. I’m not particularly inventive, either.

But one night a couple months ago I was looking at my canister of bulgur wheat, a whole grain that doesn’t have much personality on its own. Momcat would cook it as cereal occasionally, and with some milk and honey or maple syrup, it’s not too bad. As a side dish, though, it needs some love. I gotta do something with this stuff, I thought, as I stared at the container. So I started poking through the pantry and the fridge…and came up with this really tasty dish. I don’t have a name for it; if you think of one, put it in the comments.

1-1 1/2 T olive oil
4-6 cloves garlic, peeled
1/2 red onion, sliced
1/4 t ground black pepper
1/4 t salt
2 C chicken breast, uncooked, cut into bite size pieces
2 C chicken broth
1 T lemon juice
1 C bulgur wheat, uncooked
no-salt seasoning (Mrs. Dash or equivalent)

Heat the olive oil in a large skillet. Add garlic, onion, salt and pepper. Lower the heat, allowing the onion to reduce and the garlic to soften. After the onion has become more translucent, add the chicken and saute – increase the heat to medium, stirring the mixture frequently. Once the chicken is no longer pink, add the broth, lemon juice, and no-salt seasoning, then the bulgur wheat. Stir well, then cover and reduce heat to low. Let stand for 20-25 minutes. Bulgur wheat should be chewy but slightly firm to the bite.

Serves approximately 3-4 people, depending on how hungry they are. This is very garlic-tastic, so you may want to have mint ice cream for dessert, or hand out breath mints.

Try it out and tell me what you think!