Reminiscing at the Riviera

Since I’d forgotten to bring any Tupperware to bring our leftovers from the cabin home with us, we had to eat up as much as we could of our previous night’s dinner leftovers, and then some. Alas, we had to sacrifice some of Christian’s kartoffelsalat because we had already stuffed ourselves silly with leftover salat, bratwurst (reheated just a tad TOO long in the skillet), chile cheese bread and grilled veggies. But it was all still so good, and we can’t say we didn’t stretch our meals to the fullest.
After tidying up the cabin and taking a nap, we headed on down to El Paso, getting home around 5. Then we tried to decide what to do for dinner: leftover frozen rigatoni with limp salad? Predictable and overpriced chain pizza? Or…heaping plates of Mexican food at a local institution only three blocks from home? Ding! Riviera Restaurant it was. My family took me there as a child quite often, and the place has remained consistently popular for at least 25 years. Although it’s more Tex-Mex or Southwestern than Mexican, it still is authentically El Paso!
Christian ordered the Riviera Tacos, which are a mountain of shredded beef with lettuce and tomato, sour cream, guacamole and refried beans on the side, with flour tortillas. It’s a “build it yourself” meal, which I love because, well, I’m a control freak.
I stuck to the “healthy” mesquite half chicken, which came with a bowl of spicy pinto beans, rice, guacamole and corn tortillas. I barely got through a third of that half chicken, guaranteeing me another two meals of nuttin’ but chicken. More leftovers to freeze in our very, very, very well stocked freezer.
•••
Today I have my 24-week doctor’s visit, although technically I’m really 23 weeks along. I’m DYING to see my Hannah again on the ultrasound AND to ask the doctor if it will be okay for me to join Christian in Bavaria in November. Still torn but also still more than willing to have Hannah at a hospital in Germany, too, if need be. Moral dilemma still hangs over my head. I need a sign.

Sometimes it takes a nudge (or a stab)

Some couples get the Seven-Year Itch. I happened to get the Two-Year-Stab yesterday, mine and Christian’s second anniversary. Mind you, this was self-inflicted, and most definitely not on purpose! But here I was, about one hour before our reservations at Ardovino’s Desert Crossing for dinner, and I was trying to cut some just-baked banana bread out of its glass Pyrex dish. The knife slipped, and the next thing I knew, I felt the most surreal pain, an ACHE really, shoot through my arm. It was so painful, it was beyond pain, if that makes sense.
It took almost a second to realized I’d fully stabbed myself in my left arm. Not just a little graze, pick or slice, but a movie-style stab. I’d JUST noticed it start to bleed before my self-preservation instinct came into play, I put my arm under cold water in the sink, elevated it, and Christian ran over to tie a dishtowel tightly above the wound, and another over it. Keeping my arm elevated, we rushed over to the closest clinic, which happens to be the ONE that does NOT accept Medicaid. As we sat in the waiting room pondering over what to do, we removed the dishtowel and noticed the cut had stopped bleeding and, actually, there was very little blood at all. SOOOO, we headed on over to Walgreen’s and stocked up on butterfly bandages, Neosporin, adhesive pads and an ACE bandage. And to dinner we went, right in time for our reservations. And I am alive to write about it! Butterfly bandages and butterfly kisses by my loving husband sure beat $400-not-covered-by-pregnancy-insurance stitches after a 40-minute wait. My arm’s sore but already mending quite nicely.

•••

Yesterday was altogether (other than the arm stabbing and even that really brought us together in a very strange but meaningful way!) a great Second Anniversary day. First we drove downtown for Christian to get his haircut at this place we’ve stumbled across that charges only $4.50 per haircut, man or woman, and we’ve never had any disasters at all. Then we went over to Starbucks to have Americanos and read the paper, waiting for the mall to open so we could get each other anniversary gifts (yeah, we’re both last-minute shoppers!). We got to the mall and realized the stores don’t open until 10 a.m., not 9 a.m., so we decided to go to Target for our mutual gift hunt. Same store, same time. Not easy! We bumped into each other a few times, but hid our gifts well in the shopping carts stuffed with items we had no intention of buying, just using to hide the real deal, lol.
I ended up getting Christian a George Foreman grill just like the one we use up in our cabin in Cloudcroft, New Mexico; as well as a Thermos outdoor charcoal grill, small and perfect for our tiny apartment. I also got him an Eddie Bauer man-bag diaper bag (oxymoron? Lol) stuffed with some onesies and a blanket that says “Daddy’s Little Girl.”
Christian got me what I have been dying for for weeks now… a huge body pillow which should be a required item for ALL pregnant women. To die for! And he got me an electric breast pump which is another item I’d had on my wish list, because in about 4 months, that little device is going to be my best friend.
After Target, we went home and Christian totally revitalized our leftovers from dinner the night before by frying our rigatoni in a bit of butter and adding even more garlic. I added some cheese to our Caprese salad, some baguette, and voila… a very un-leftover-tasting lovely lunch. I tried to hold back, knowing our anniversary dinner would be three courses and very decadent, but he really just made the pasta taste too good for one helping. Oh well, I will live on Greek yogurt, apples and Thermos-grilled veggies this weekend

•••

Dinner at Ardovino’s Desert Crossing was a dream date. It was sprinkling rain, with that amazing desert-rain smell, and the sky was dark and cloudy. We got the closest booth to the huge windows to have a great vista of the Upper Valley and the sunset, and had the restaurant almost pretty much to ourselves, save for the group of young lawyers sitting nearby, one being a bit more pregnant than me, complaining loudly that she couldn’t eat anything on the menu (“No anchovies and do you have raw egg in the dressing?” “Ohhhh, I want a beer so badly!” “I’ll just have the chicken, sauce on the side…”) No ma’am. Not me. Unless it was sushi, beer or steak tartare, nothing was off limits for me!
We started with fried calamari, served with both an ancho-sherry sauce (not for me) and a diavolo sauce. I tend to prefer sauteed calamari, but Christian, who doesn’t enjoy the texture of calamari or scallops, did like the treatment of the non-rubbery sea creatures. Alongside that we were served some of the best sourdough bread, homemade and served with olive oil.
Then we were served their piccolo antipasti salad, a wonderful salad of romaine, salami, cheese, pepperocinis, tomato and a tangy Italian dressing…
And then our main courses. I’d like to start off by saying it was by far the BEST salmon I’ve EVER had, definitely in El Paso but perhaps anywhere I’ve ever eaten salmon. It was crisp on the outside and tender, juicy and light on the inside, served on a bed of farro pasta and asparagus, and stuffed with goat cheese. I almost cried it was so good!
Christian went for the lasagne, which looked amazing. I managed to NOT sneak a bite, because I didn’t want the taste of the gorgeous salmon to leave my tastebuds, lol. We both had plenty to take home for today’s lunch.
And were we glad we didn’t eat all of our main entrees!! The pastry chef, Patrick Rosser, created a dessert trio especially for us to celebrate our anniversary. On the plate were: Black cherry crumble, white peach cheesecake and blueberry cake in an almond crust with Tahitian vanilla ice cream. We demolished the dish, as you can see. Guilt be gone. This was sheer and utter gluttony at its best, and we have NO SHAME. The best!

Quite a ways from Waikiki

Christian and I, the food adventurers that we are, thought we’d tried just about every ethnic restaurant here in El Paso (okay, that’s not saying TOO much, noting that Vietnamese is still considered pretty darn exotic for El Paso). We’ve had that, we’ve had German, we’ve had Greek, Lebanese, Turkish, Thai, Chinese, Bhutanese and Russian…heck, we even had a mystery meat taco at the Market just over the border in Juarez, Mexico.
But last night, as we rolled into El Paso from Cloudcroft, we decided to stick a bit closer to home and try out the Aloha Hawa”iian Barbeque joint not far from our apartment.
I’ve never been to Hawa’ii and it’s not in our budget for, say, the next decade. But I’ve always been mesmerized by photos and Travel Channel episodes featuring the “indigenous” foods of Hawa’ii and its islands. For one, poi. Sounds repulsive yet I’d LOVE to say I’ve had it. Whole pig cooked under banana leaves and buried under lava ash? I’m game. Their abundance of exotic, fragrant and beautiful fruits served in a huge bowl with flowers draped on the side? Mmmmm. But, wait…. SPAM???? SPAM sushi? SPAM burgers? SPAM ANYTHING???? Excuse me? Did I miss something in grade school? SPAM as an indigenous Hawaii’an dish? Well, apparently it is. SPAM is served in a multitude of ways in Hawa’ii including, yes, as a “sushi,” placed on top of rice and wrapped in seaweed. It was among the offerings at the Aloha Hawa’iian BBQ. Also served: BBQ pork chops, pulled pork, BBQ chicken, fried Mahi Mahi, fried shrimp, SPAM soup, chicken katsu and baby back ribs. All of the above served with two “ice cream scoops” of white rice and one scoop of macaroni salad. And I mean that white-bread, supermarket pre-made variety of macaroni salad drowning in mayonnaise with a little pickle relish blended in. Wow. I’d have to hula my way around the globe if I ate like this every day. Nary a salad in sight at this place, but I bravely ordered the BBQ chicken, saving the SPAM for someone else (You’re welcome).
We took our orders home with us, after visiting their “salsa bar” to load up on condiments for our meal. Basically the salsa bar consisted of three large bottles of Sriracha sauce and two of soy sauce, plus some sauces labeled for the katsu dishes and a “sweet and sour” sauce, similar to that which coats pork or chicken at cheap Chinese restaurants.
Okay, I must say…. the BBQ chicken was incredibly good. And man, they give you a LOT of it! Served on a bed of steamed cabbage (seemed to me WAY more German than Hawaii’an…and my husband liked it!), there must have been the equivalent of three chicken breast halves for each of us. The macaroni salad was edible, but not worth the caloric infusion if you ask me. But the rice was moist and warm, and tasted great as a foil for the spicy chicken.
Plus, each dish cost about $9, and definitely can turn into 3 meals, perfect for a chicken sandwich for lunch the next day.

When we got home we realized we’d left the air conditioner running the whole time. Great and welcoming to come home to a nice and cool apartment. We may get heated up when we get our electric bill, but tomorrow we’ll worry about that. The coolness seemed, however, to make our habanero plant we keep on our dining room table just THRIVE, and we now have about 7 orange habaneros we’re dying to make use of. And no, we won’t be doing any of those YouTube habanero-eating contests anytime soon!
Do you have a habanero recipe that you think we should try out? Don’t be shy, either. We are grownups and we can take the heat!

And again I forgot to post yesterday’s breakfast… the one meal I feel not so guilty about eating, and definitely my favorite meal of the day. Yesterday it was Alpen brand muesli, plums and milk, and it’s usually some variation of that. I could eat Alpen for every meal, really. But I’m definitely a creature of habit. Christian likes variety and I don’t blame him. But mmmmm, muesli just is IT for me! Is Hannah telling me something?

On leftovers and lunch in the park

Normally at this time each Saturday, I would be up in Cloudcroft, N.M., at our cabin, just getting up to go for my morning walk in the woods or on the cart path at the Lodge at Cloudcroft’s famous Scottish golf course.
But not this weekend, since we have an event we must attend tonight AND my sister and brother in law have staked claim to the cabin for the next two weeks. I seriously go through withdrawals when I can’t spend a weekend in the cool pines of Cloudcroft. I get depressed, tired and complain about the incessant El Paso heat. I fight the traffic on the crowded streets, even on my 4 a.m. walks in the neighborhood (seems a lot of bars allow their customers to stay until right about that time!), I look longingly toward the Northeast sky, toward Cloudcroft, and see that clouds are headed that way. In other words, I sulk, sulk sulk until I can get my next Cloudcroft “fix.”
But at least I TRY to make the most of the “Cloudcroft-less” weekends! For instance, this weekend has started off to a great start with getting our pantry all filled up again with a trip to the grocery store yesterday. I’d been living on old frozen ranch beans and spinach for a few days, and was losing my motivation for leftovers, big time. We STILL have some liver, pasta, corn tortillas and frozen pasta sauce in the freezer and I just for the life of me can’t figure out a way to reincarnate those puppies.
But for dinner last night, Christian prepared his famous kartoffelsalat, or German Potato Salad, which I must say is manna from the gods. Pure, light and simple, it is the ultimate accompaniment to any summer supper, as it was with our rotisserie chicken and baguette we had to eat last night. He was sure to make plenty, because this afternoon, we’re going to our first official family picnic at a local park. It’s actually a neighborhood association “Summer Olympics” game day and potluck meant for adults and their children, and although Hannah’s not even born yet, I thought it would be so nice to hang out with other families and get to watch the games, children and to get out and meet other people, finally (Christian and I are sort of the same…hermits, lol).
So Christian’s bringing the potato salad which, in this case, is a GOOD thing to bring to an outdoor El Paso picnic (forget any mayo based potato salads, ever, outdoors in El Paso). His is made only with peeled, chunky potatoes, peeled and sliced cucumbers, oil/vinegar, salt/pepper. That’s all. Nothing fancy-schmanzy or “nouveau” about his salad. And it is the BEST!
We’re hoping to hide his salad well among the hundreds of other salads that will inevitably be brought to the potluck, so we may again take it home and enjoy it tonight (wink wink), and now all I have to do is figure out what exactly to do with the half of a rotisserie chicken we just couldn’t finish last night.

Any suggestions for roast chicken leftovers? I’m looking for the not-so-obvious and the most unique. I’d love to publish your recipe here on Krautundcracker, with a short bio on you, if you are interested!

Hankerin’ for home cookin’

On Sunday, right before leaving Cloudcroft to head back to the flatlands that are El Paso, Christian and I decided, against better judgement, to eat out rather than cook at home.
Sure, it sounded fun and different, and of course convenient, but we chose the wrong place to have a “quick bite” before the drive home.
Now, I’m NOT normally one to dis a restaurant and I ALWAYS try to find the good qualities and highlight those. Maybe it was hormones, maybe it was the fact that I really was looking forward to a simple grilled cheese sandwich, eaten in the quiet solitude of the cabin, but I just couldn’t recommend this joint. And I don’t use “joint” lightly.
It’s called the Front Porch Grill, a “grill/pizza” joint on the left of HWY 82 just as you drive into Cloudcroft from Alamogordo. I’ve lived in Cloudcroft and been very often, but had never ventured over to the place.
It was my fault. I chose it. It was between that or the Texas Pit BBQ, but Christian and I had recently eaten there and wanted something different, and besides, the Western Bar was packed. So, we went in and ordered at the counter, telling the waitress we’d sit outside on the porch. It took me about 10 minutes to order because frankly, nothing sounded good at all. Burritos, all kinds. Yuck. I have reached my Mexican food threshold for the month. Personal sized pizzas. Too oily looking and straight from the walk-in freezer. Ham and cheese sandwiches. Nope. I have all those ingredients at home, for free. Pita sandwich? Oooohhh! Oh, damn. No, a hamburger that uses pita as the bread base. I was hoping a gyro, not ground beef with mustard, mayo and pickle….Hmmmmm…..
While I grew increasingly distraught at the options, Christian blithely went for the chicken wings with ranch dressing. There is a time and a place for wings for me, but this was neither. Finally, I settled on the grilled chicken salad, which is usually pretty much identical at every American lunch place.
We also ordered breadsticks as a starter, served with marinara.
We sat outside and I sulked. I was depressed thinking about the great leftover salad we’d made at home the previous evening that I’d have to toss away now because we weren’t having it for lunch. I was pissed at all the flies landing on me and on our table. And I really got pissed when a boisterous family of about 8 sat next to us and the waitress came out to take their order AND gave then another menu that included pastas! Grrrrr. The heat was rising.
That family got their drink orders, placed their orders, and got an appetizer while we sat there swatting flies. FINALLY our breadsticks came, little pillows of dough sweating, no, gushing oil and glistening. BP breadsticks. While they weren’t bad after a little rub-a-dub-dub from my paper napkin, they were definitely your standard Sysco brand breadstick. Flies liked ‘em, though.
About 15 minutes later (well, 17 actually. I timed it), my chicken salad arrived, but Christian’s wings didn’t. I am not one to begin eating when others haven’t received their food, so I slapped a copy of the “Mountain Times” on top of my salad to keep the flies at bay. When asked about Christian’s wings, the waitress had a very faint and brief look of shock on her face, which led me to believe she’d forgotten the wings completely. She said, “Oh, they’ll be a little longer. They’re still in the oven.” I couldn’t see the kitchen area too well from outside, but suffice it to say I bet there was some scrambling back there when she went back inside.
At this point Christian, sensing my rising rage, suggested we go inside to eat and to avoid the flies. We sat right next to the kitchen area, making our presence known, while the owner of the business went from table to table not chatting with customers, but wielding a fly swatter and looking very smug as he lowered their population.
And then finally the wings arrived, and I took the paper off the salad. And I must say… the salad looked damn good. I don’t know if it was gratitude for finally receiving our full paid-for meal or if it really was different, but this salad was large, used fresh romaine lettuce and not iceberg, had balsamic vinegar, fresh onion, crumbles of cheese, tomato, olives and bell peppers… It was alright! I didn’t try Christian’s wings, but they did look meaty and “saucy.”
So, I guess in a nutshell, if it’s service you are seeking, go to the Lodge or Texas Pit BBQ. If you’re in that Cloudcroft Zen state where nothing in the world can get your goat (I obviously was not QUITE there yet), then by all means, go enjoy some pizza on the porch. But nothing, nothing, nothing beats a simple grilled cheese sandwich at home

The three R’s…

Don’t know about you, but for me the three R’s ain’t (sic) “Readin’, Riting’ and ‘Rithmetic,” but rather are “Rest, Rain and Reading.” Which is precisely what I did this weekend with my husband in Cloudcroft, N.M.
After missing out on going up to our cabin in the woods last weekend, we were determined not only to forego a last-minute trip to the ER and make it safely to our wooden abode nestled in the pines.
The only free Wi-FI source in Clouedcroft, at the Jamocha Bean coffee house (Well, it’s not free. Ya need to buy at least a coffee) was kaput this weekend, leaving us tech-free and having to resort to, gasp, LOW TECH ways of amusing ourselves! Oh my! Actually, it was the greatest thing ever. I finished a book in just 24 hours, a feat I hadn’t accomplished in years, got enough rest to tide me over for at least a week, and we got to sit on the porch as it poured cats and dogs outside, with the fog rolling in and enveloping us. It was bliss.
I have doctor’s orders to take it relatively easy, which kept me off the hiking trails this weekend, but didn’t prevent me from walking 30 minutes each morning around town (flat terrain). After that, I was basically on my ass for the most part, with no apologies.
As is customary for us these days, we stopped by the Lowe’s grocery store in Alamogordo to pick up some provisions, as well as a quick dinner for when we arrived at the cabin. We got a citrus-infused rotisserie chicken, some ciabatta bread, some rye bread from Marina’s German Bakery in El Paso, and Christian brought with him his kartoffelsalat that he’d made that afternoon. That was our dinner.
We also had some delicious hamburgers made with Gouda cheese, pico de gallo and the ciabatta bread, as well as rigatoni with tomato/basil/mushroom sauce. We agreed we’re in a comfort zone with our meals, and it’s time to branch out a bit, so Christian turned to Uli, his “stepfather,” to email us some of his tried and true recipes that he’s cooked us when we visit. Dampfnudeln, anyone?
It was so damn hard to pack the Jeep this afternoon to head on back to El Paso, but we made the best of it, belting out the soundtrack to “Rocky Horror Picture Show,” then dropping by my dad’s house to take the dogs for a walk. And then a stop at Taco Cabana for some MORE chicken for me and the Mexican combo plate for Christian. I just love going to places like Taco Cabana, with its free salsa bar. To, I guess, dissuade customers from stockpiling the salsa, they only offer tiny little condiment cups. But man, you should see how imaginative some customers are when it comes to getting as much salsa as possible to take to their table. Using their own water bottles, cut in half; just bringing their plates to the salsa bar and shoveling the pico de gallo on top; using napkins to cart away a salad bowl’s worth of cilantro and lemons… lol. Fun people watching potential there.

So, the amniocentesis is on Tuesday, and we’re both frightened. I had the most tremendous weekend in terms of growth in my abdomen. I swear I must have expanded at least two inches in circumference this weekend. Oh, and the round ligament pain? I am fully aware of what that means now. But I’m also in AWE of the feeling because although I haven’t felt any fetal movement yet, I can now feel the uterus, shaped like a giant water balloon! We just may know if the baby’s a girl (we have names, but that’s our secret) or a boy by Tuesday!
To be continued!

Stretch, stretch, groan, groan

There’s absolutely no hiding it now. It’s official, and it seems to have happened overnight. The growing pains in my belly, and the fact that nope, I just haven’t been overindulgent recently. I am in fact pregnant, people! The slight stares from others at my tummy, indicating their bemusement that I’d put on some weight have been replaced by the knowing look and smiles from others that there’s something other than food in there, lol.
Well, that’s not FULLY the truth. I HAVE been having way too much fun eating for two, and I need to start taking more measures to eat healthily and not reach for a honey bun at 2 p.m. like I did yesterday. 600 calories in that little thing, the same amount of calories as in my lunch and way less nutrition.
Last night we ate very healthfully, really enjoying my lemon/butter/dill tilapia, baked not fried; smashed potatoes, skin on, with buttermilk, a little parmesan and chile flakes; a green salad; and toasted baguette. And I managed to avoid dessert.
Indulgence is fun, and many times deserved, but in my case I had to hold the reins at least for a day or two, lol.

My next appointment with the perinatologist is Tuesday, and I’m still petrified to get the amniocentesis. Veryyyyyyy curious, of course, to get the gender ID, but scared there will be a problem, or something worrisome. I’ll definitely take the day off after that, because I don’t care what anyone says. Poking a mama in the tummy with a horse needle and puncturing the amniotic sac isn’t to be taken lightly.
But before I worry about that, I can look forward to another weekend in the cool mountains with Christian, small and easy hikes, watching old horror movies like “Friday the Thirteenth” or “Blair Witch Project” (always even more scary when one is staying at a little old cabin in the woods!) and finishing my Anthony Bourdain book, “Medium Raw.” I am on sabbatical from reading baby books for a week or two, just to give myself a little time to digest everything else going on. I think I’ve hit on every pregnant woman’s blog there is online, and now I need a distraction!

What is health?

I’ve been thinking a lot about health recently, especially now that I am expecting. I mean, of course it’s obvious I’m responsible for two, but I never really grasped what true health was. I think I’m starting to get it.
In the past, to me, health was maintaining a certain weight, having glow-in-the-dark white teeth, perfectly aligned, glowing tan skin, shiny hair, abs like a washboard, biceps with bulges and the ability to run six miles a day. All surface values, all perpetuated in glossy women’s magazines and TV shows.
I have slowly but steadily come to the realization that health has MANY more variables that are NOT so patent.
For instance, when I first went to Germany, I was floored by the amount of food (and the calories) it seemed “everyone” ate. I thought to myself, “no way could I eat like that and not get obese! Sausages, potato salad, beer, cake every day at 3 p.m.?” But because I was staying with my husband and in-laws, I couldn’t just say no (which is considered rude in any country, but even more so in Germany). To negate the calories I ingested, I’d get up at 6 a.m. and walk 1.5 hours through the hops and corn fields of Rohr, Bavaria, doing the New York City “power walk” with my arms pumping and my gait almost a jog. Almost every day, I’d start walking up a steep hill, the “killer” hill, towards the end of my walk. And almost every day, a woman who had to have been in her 70s would bike right on past me, with nary a breath to be heard. Jesus. How did she do that???? She wasn’t a reed-thin muscle machine, but rather of a medium build, with sturdy legs and the most perfect milk and rose complexion I’d ever seen. No wrinkles to be seen. That was the first time I consciously said to myself, “Now that is a healthy, vibrant woman!” And the first time I actually felt jealous and a longing to just be “free” from worrying about calories, fat grams or how many miles I logged. I went home after my walk, had a big breakfast with a roll, yogurt, fruit and butter (lots of butter), Kotbüllar for lunch, Plum Cake for Kaffee und Kuchen, and slices of ham, salami and Emmentaler cheese with savory rye bread for Brotzeit. Never looked back.
For years I subsisted on non-fat frozen yogurt, apples, Crystal Light, air popped popcorn and the Stairmaster. And you know what? I did get down to an “ideal” weight. And you know what? I wasn’t happy. And you know what else? When I began to eat, truly eat and enjoy my food and my company and relax a bit, I did NOT blow up like a balloon. I have eaten more in about 1 year than I did for practically 5 years previous, and I’ve maybe gained 5 pounds. Five desperately needed pounds.
Of course, now that I’m pregnant, I’ve gained 10 more on top of that, but I have more energy at 4 months of pregnancy than I did on my “best” days of 800 calories and hour long runs.
I hope my child/children will grow up without that media pressure, and just go by instinct and how he/she feels, without being told how to feel! I may have learned quite late, but I’m so glad I have finally let go of some very persistent demons!

Last night, Christian made some great wurst und sauerkraut, served along with some bakery rolls we got at Albertson’s. We’re all packed up for Cloudcroft and leave tonight after work. Apparently it’s been raining like mad up there, and the trails may be muddy and sloppy, but I secretly enjoy that I have some running shoes up at the cabin just for that. You know, shoes that used to be white but now look like tents in camouflage?
I am most looking forward to sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee and a great book, listening to the wind in the trees, and hopefully some wild raspberries have started to pop up. Thank god there are still some secret patches only I know about.

A change in al-titude

We’re headed up to Cloudcroft again tomorrow afternoon. I thought I could stay away a few weeks, but when I heard no other family members had plans for it for a while, I jumped at the chance. It’s been so humid and hot in El Paso, and my attitude and sanity has been tested. It’s definitely time for an alt/attitude change, fast.
For some reason, I’ve been nibbling away stress and tension by just having wayyyyyyy too much food, even for a pregnant girl, and my workouts have been uninspired. I’m not one to blow off a walk, but I’ve done so twice this week, basically unheard of for me. I never have a problem with motivation in Cloudcroft, walking on the trails, on quiet paths through town, early in the morning. On my morning walks here in El Paso, I have to watch out for late-night partiers who tear down my street at 4:30 a.m. like it’s the autobahn. In Cloudcroft, I only have to watch for skunks, or the occasional bear. I’d rather be watching out for those, lol. And I don’t stress-eat up there. Cloudcroft is like the poor-man’s Miraval spa. Everyone, and I mean everyone, is motivated to take a hike, enjoy nature, rest, think happy thoughts and re-assess what is important, what needs to be prioritized.
I can’t afford Miraval or even a day spa, but I can have all of that for free, in a little green wooden cabin high in the New Mexico mountains. I really feel so lucky!

Last night, Christian was a dear and cooked, since I just was sooooo exhausted. While I dozed, he made a fabulous rigatoni dish and a confetti salad, and said he wanted to create a serene atmosphere for me. I’d had a bad day, felt obese and run down, and he managed to make me feel like a million bucks. That’s not easy to do, so kudos, honey! This weekend in Cloudcroft he’s going to dig into his stash of goodies from Germandeli.com (pre-mixed entree spices and powders) and will make Seelachs. That’s salmon. With spinach. I haven’t had that since his mom made that for us in Rohr, Germany, and I’m dying to have that again. We’ll splurge on a great cut of salmon and that will be our weekend treat dinner. Most likely PB&J’s the rest of the time, and there isn’t anything wrong with that!

A pancake is a pancake…

…even if it doesn’t come out so pretty, as in the case of last night’s dinner. For some reason, the batter didn’t want to cooperate with us, so our German pancakes (pfannkuchen) ended up looking a bit like a plate of scrambled eggs. So be it. They were just as tasty, and especially so with some cherry preserves from Cloudcroft. I managed to eat two plates full, and if I didn’t look pregnant before, I certainly do now!
Soooooo, we’ve decided to go with the amniocentesis procedure, coming up on the 27th. I’m scared to death, actually. Not of the needle, but of the waiting period (up to three weeks!) for the result. I’m also scared the needle will hurt the baby. Ugh. I’m already sick thinking about it and it’s more than two weeks away.
Has anyone else out there had it done? What should I expect? I have one friend who had to be jabbed THREE times in one day. The first jab didn’t get enough fluid, the second time the baby got in the way, and finally she got it done at three jabs. Oh man, and I’m the one they always have to jab about 4 times for getting blood drawn because my veins are so hidden….
But I have faith, and it will be a good thing to have any doubts erased after the amnio… including the sex of the baby! Wow, to think I’ll know in about a month, unless the sonogram that goes with the amnio happens to catch the baby at the perfect position, lol.