20 January 2009

Three things

Three things about me that are a little bit, not at all, and possibly obvious:

1. I am an emotional eater.

For instance, I just downed a clementine, several crackers, and some goat cheese because the thought of staying in grad school for the next five years is, quite frankly, horrible. I feel like I've painted myself into a corner because yes, I'm better than the general populace at what I do, but I'm not terribly good at it either because it's really hard... but I suppose that's a different story for another post.

I've found that when I'm super upset about things, usually boy related, I tend to not eat. This explains why I weighed the same in high school as I did in 6th grade; This is also why I'm getting rather fat. You see, I'm terribly happy with my personal life because I've married someone who will love me no matter what, so the inclination to starve myself out of spite, sadness, or even self-preservation has basically left me. You could call that a "good" thing, and I suppose that it's actually good, and not just "good", but grad school leaves me almost no time or motivation to exercise. This is why I made a call to Curves the other day and scheduled an appointment for Thursday.

Yes, I will be joining legions of middle-aged women of north Austin on a quest to regain our figures... or something. Wish me luck so that I leave not smelling of old people perfume.


2. I was recently hit by a car. As in me, the person.

It happened at the intersection of Jollyville and Balcones Woods. There was a red light at Balcones Woods and I was about to cross the street. The "walk" sign came on and so I began walking. After walking nearly 1/3 of the way across, I see this white Altima start to move. If you've never seen an Altima, this is sort of what it looked like



Given that I was nearly in the middle of the road, running back to the curb wasn't really an option, so I stared right at the driver, who then looked in my direction and KEPT GOING. I fell over, as Julie vs. Car means that Julie loses every time and then got up. The guy rolled down his window, asked if I was okay and then sped off as quickly as he could. I was flabbergasted and then upon talking to the police department discovered that the only thing I could do was to file a complete police report, but a) I didn't really want to waste the city's time and money and b) was mostly fine except for a bruise on my elbow that you could barely see. I guess this is why some places ban "right turn on red" when it is sometimes translated into "kill pedestrians to beat the light."


3. I am moderately lactose intolerant.

One of the most comforting, happy-childhood invoking tastes is American cheese with pita. This is due, in part, to the fact that I grew up in a middle class white suburban family that was um... a little trashy. I have no idea why the pita fits in, but it does. My enjoyment of dairy extends far beyond simply liking American cheese (and actually, I'm not quite sure that I even *like* American cheese, or if it just tastes like home); I'm absolutely in love with things made of cow milk including... cow milk. The other day we went to Central Market because we were bored and got a bunch of random groceries, including raw whole milk.

I had tried this milk (from Remember When Dairy) before in a sample offering several months ago and it was absolutely delicious. Reading up on raw milk led me to believe that it was possible that raw milk is better for those who are lactose intolerant because, given the lack of pasteurization, the healthy bacteria that are found in yogurt remained and feasted on some of the lactose, doing exactly that of which I am incapable. When I finally got the milk, I brought it home and poured it out. It was absolutely disgusting. The cream had solidified and would not go back to solid. Yes, I could have heated it, but that would have basically defeated the purpose of raw milk and also its deliciousness. After pouring some out to shake it better, the cream basically stayed solid, but at least this time the chunks were littler. I tried some, but it was just too hard to drink because, seriously, who wants to drink milk with chunks of cream bobbing up and down? I went to the website and emailed them and got this response:

The perocn to answer that is my husband, Mark. His number is xxx-xxx-xxxx
Ometimes the milk gets puched back in the cooler and may get frozen..if thats the case.The milk is fine..but please call Mark and ask him..if it turns out that the milk was a bad batch for some reason...we will definatle make it right
please call Mark and let know about the problem
Thanks DeOnna


It was, perhaps, not the most grammatically appealing email I had ever received, but it seemed like a good step in the right direction. I called Mark the following day and asked him about the safety and status of my milk and he explained that it was perfectly safe to drink, but that cows sometimes have different cream content in their milk based on the season and what they've been eating recently. Apparently there's so much cream in the milk that it basically solidifies... so it works like carbon-enhanced stars, come to think of it. :) I took this advice from farmer Mark and tried drinking a glass earlier tonight and am now currently paying for it in spades. It turns out that the metabolic pathway of lactose digestion in the body is extraordinarily complicated and even if I shut my eyes and pretend I have the genetic mutation that allows me to drink the nourishment that would ordinarily go to baby animals from their lactating mothers beyond infancy, I still can't drink milk. :(

My lactose intolerance is extraordinarily unfortunate, especially in light of the fact that our friend Chris and Elizabeth (one of our two sets of married couple friends that we hang out with) are throwing us a wine and cheese party on Friday in our behalf celebrating our marriage. So to end this rather rambling post, I present you with a picture from dinner in Long Beach. That was the best cioppino I have ever had in my life. This statement means little since I've only had it like... twice, but it was still a really amazing dish.



See? I'm posting pictures. :) It just takes me a little longer...

4 comments:

kate said...

remember that time when you ate cheese without looking at it and it was moldy?

graciet86 said...

raw milk = BAD= UNSAFE. there is a reason for pasteurization...to kill off the pathogens that are now found in milk...fine for cows but not for humans as they cause food borne illness...unless you grew up on raw milk, built up an immune system and it's your own cow. For the lactose intolerance, you can take supplements of lactase to help digest lactose or lactaid milk which does not have any lactose in it. There are even pills of just the probiotic bacteria you can take too that you find in yogurts (Lactobacilli and friends). OMG but please, don't drink raw milk!! From one scientist to another...esp one that is specializing in food safety...it's not safe unless you don't mind living in the bathroom for awhile!

jkru said...

I probably should have thought about that more before I bought the milk, but it seemed so wholesome! Also, that explains what happened. For some reason lactose supplements and lactaid milk never really work for me... :( But thanks for the info. I think I'm done with raw milk for like evers.

Joe said...

I've had raw milk before without incident, but it's always been < 24 hours old, and from friendly Amish in central PA. I don't think I'd trust raw milk that hadn't been milked that morning...