Honey Nut Chocolate Fudge Bars

Snack’s up! This is what I say every day, twice a day, when I am at sea. My post-caregiving life has me back out to sea cooking for sailors rather than seniors and as a chef who has now cooked for both demographics, I never would’ve thought “snack” would be such a big part of adult life? Seniors are notorious for having a sweet tooth, and well sailors? They are just starving individuals, weathered by the elements and craving an energy boost.

After crew members have been standing watch in the blazing sun for hours on end, it’s no surprise they are obsessed with snack. The thing with snacks though is they’re strategically timed between meals to give the “on” Watch some energy, helping to keep them alert until they turn over their shift. That shakes out to three snacks a day: morning, afternoon, and midnight snack which is affectionately called “mid-rats”. I know that sounds like a LOT of snacks and on occasion it can feel that way from the galley’s perspective but generally speaking, a snack is just a snack. It’s not a meal and not something you would intend to get full on. It’s just a little something to tide a sailor over until the meal bell rings. I like to approach the three snacks as follows:

1. Something fresh

2. Something savory

3. Something sweet

Typically I stick with the fresh item in the mornings which is often sliced fruit or something of the sort. The afternoon snack might be a savory cheese board or chips and salsa, fresh bread rolls, etc. The sweet item is often the midnight snack. Whereas morning and afternoon snack I deliver I deck, midnight snack is organized in containers for each Watch, allowing the crew to fetch theirs when they need it. Watch rotations occur during the night so having something accessible is key. Often times that’s in the form of baked goods like cookies, brownies, muffins, rolls, etc. As the steward/cook, I get to decide what that looks like and have discovered a few favorites along the way. These Honey Nut Chocolate Fudge Bars are always a hit so I thought I would share the recipe with you!

First I should say that these definitely fall into the sweet category but these would be an afternoon snack and not something I prepare for mid-rats. That’s because they are made with coconut oil and are best stored in the fridge to keep from getting melty. This should be no problem for all you home cooks. If your household doesn’t eat them all immediately, just keep them in an air tight container taking one out when you need a chocolate fix. Here’s the recipe:

Ingredients:

• 2 oz chocolate chips
• 1/2 cup cashews or almonds
• 1/3 cup cocoa powder + more for dusting the top
• 1/3 cup honey + 1 tbsp
• 1/4 cup coconut oil
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 1/2 cup rice crispies
• pinch of salt

Directions

1. Line a bread pan with parchment paper and then top it with the chocolate chips.
2. In a food processor combine the cocoa powder and nuts, and pulse to combine until you have a course sand like consistancy.
3. In a medium sized pot, heat the honey and oil until it gently boils.
4. Remove from heat and add the vanilla and mix.
5. Add the nut mixture along with the rice crispies and stir in the pot to combine.
6. Gently pour the mixture into the bread pan over the chocolate chips.
7. Let cool for an hour in the fridge and the remove and dust the top with cocoa powder.
8. Remove the parchment from the pan and cut the block of chocolate into bars.
9. Serve immediately or store in an air tight container in the fridge.

Enjoy mates!

*If you wanted to make these for seniors rather than sailors I would pay attention to the nuts. As I mention in the recipe, you can pulse them until you have a sand like consistency. In the ones I created above, I left the nuts a little chunky. Seniors with sensitive teeth might prefer the nuts ground more so really pulse them in the food processor. You don’t want to pulse the mix into a paste but elderly individuals might prefer a little less nut texture than than the the bars photographed above.

Life, Loss, and Family Heirlooms

About four months into my caregiver journey I came across this piece of paper in my parents house. Its discovery was painful for so many reason. For one, my mother no longer remembered me. The Alzheimer’s had erased her memory and she no longer recognized me as her daughter. In addition to that cruelty was another sense of loss. The paper was loose. Attached to some token at one point but in discovery, it was merely scrap. Whatever treasure was to be passed down for progeny remains a mystery. The “family heirloom” in my mind is now the paper itself. It’s a modicum of memory thanks to the handwriting; her handwriting, and the awareness that the intent of posterity was cloaked in a mother’s love. I wish I knew what the heirloom was but that piece of paper has become my keepsake.

“Family Heirloom for Ashley Look 10/31/88”

— S. Look

Being thrust into the intense world of caregiving when I was just beginning to understand adulthood, forced me to explore the “value” of things. I was tasked with downsizing our family home (see photos here) and overwhelmed by the decision-making process. Sentimental value can be found in just about any item that sparks a memory and no amount of reading KonMari books will make that magically disappear. Determining worth is discriminatory and decision includes moral hazard. Over the course of my family purge I questioned if I was making mistakes. Would I regret my decisions and later be haunted by the legacy of items no longer in my possession? Without sound guidance from my parents (my father was also suffering from dementia at the time), I was required to sift through their belongings using equal parts Ebay, personal judgement, and observations from weekly garbage days when a neighborhood truck would make the rounds picking up items left out for the trash.

Fast forward a few years and the house has been reclaimed from under the mountain of stuff, much of which was in fact trash. I saved a number of things that were obvious keepsakes and a few less than obvious treasures like the scrap paper above. But mostly I’ve held on to an awareness that the stuff we allow into our space deserves our honor and warrants the right to occupy our attention or time. Stuff is stuff, yet materialism, although fun in a moment, is often a headache later, especially when clouded by sentimentality.

I’ve thought long and hard about lineage and legacy, and the antiquity of our belongings. I’ve often wondered what I’d save of my own belongings if the house was burning down. As a “maker” my mind goes to my spoons. I’d save my work from becoming fuel as these are the things that are my legacy. They are the investments of my labor, my craftsmanship, and time represented in hand. Upon my death my Will might include a beneficiary for the spoons. They are perhaps my most important material items and why right now, I feel moved to right this. Yesterday, I lost one.

My most beloved, hand carved, Applewood spoon that I carved on a farm in Vermont which became the cornerstone of my personal brand and business. It would have been my offering as a family heirloom to the generations that follow.

If I was to leave behind a single heirloom from my life it would be/would have been this spoon. It’s on my business card, it’s my logo, it’s the only one I have refused to sell. It’s made of Applewood from an orchard in Vermont and was carved on the land where I first learned how to spoon carve, a practice that has since become my therapy. Unfortunately it took a tumble yesterday, and broke right at the neck. My brother accidentally bumped the display while moving a shelf (part of the endless house downsizing project) and in that moment knew he had destroyed something of value. Before I even knew what had happened he was alarmed with concern, approaching me with hesitation and repeating “You’re gonna kill me.” Of all the spoons to break, it was my most favorite, the one that represents so much to me…

The heart breaking remains of my most beloved personal treasure. The Applewood spoon which I personally hand carved, took a tumble and broke into two pieces right at the neck.

But of course, stuff is just stuff, and the irony lingers like a cruel reminder that loss and grief are inescapable even after you’ve made your peace. This broken spoon feels like a death in that family which I suspect many won’t understand. But losing the thing that supported me through losing my family hurts, even if it’s an inanimate object. It’s not the spoon but what the spoon represented, and the emotional relationship between hand and craft varies little from the relationship between my parents and their end of life care. It was a very long and grueling, emotional journey and I owe my sanity to spoon carving. Caregiving and end of life care are journeys of the heart, as are stories of birth. This spoon was a beginning and it’s painful to see its end.

I’ve been working on some service related content for this website. I created something for caregivers knowing they are struggling with minimal support. I’ve also created a service for posterity knowing all too well that loved ones are ephemeral. I’ve also been working towards an online spoon carving course and for whatever reason, I can’t seem to finish it. In part I think that’s because spoon carving is my self-care and so many wounds remain fresh. It’s difficult to discuss how to carve spoons when the why feels more important. How do I convey the how of “healing” when grief runs eternal? Stay tuned however because I do plan to complete it. At the heart of any spoon is the bowl, and the stress in what it carries is the neck. The irony is the reminder that it’s time to get back to it, keeping a handle on the chaos of time…

I know I can glue this spoon. It’s not the end of the world. But long story short, not everything that breaks can be fixed. Life and loss are tough pills to swallow and I’m tired of the cultural expectation to choke hardship down gracefully. It’s OK to be sad. It’s OK to be angry… It’s OK to not be OK, with or without an excuse. Feelings aren’t always rational and it’s far time we recognize that our pains are valid regardless of how they measure in comparison. Our struggles are not competitions so let’s stop pretending to keep it together because it makes others feel more comfortable. Life and loss are uncomfortable and moving on quickly enables culture to dismiss the legacies of the ones that left too soon. We should honor them with pause and revel in what remains. Heirlooms are like the architecture of one’s memory. Items aren’t special because of what they are but who they represent…

Rest in peace you heavy hearts. Rest up and take love!

3rd Quarter Report

Change is in the air and I’m ready to feel it! I want to wear it on my skin, breath it in, and bask in the sense of something new after months of anger and frustration and feeling stuck. None of this is actually new. These feelings have been ever-present as caregiving has that way of reducing your sense of freedom while feeding you a cocktail of resentment. I frequently find myself consumed by bitterness, embroiled by feelings of sacrifice without a taste of reward. They say that caregiving is a thankless job and I see the truth there but I also feel compelled to believe there is something better. A silver lining around the corner, hiding in the shadows… It’s there. It’s just awaiting discovery. And without a reminder to counter your perceptions, it’s easy to fall victim to your own worst thoughts… There is no light.

#FakeNews… It’s not that the light is not there, it’s just so hard to see it on your own. I more than know the value of community and feelings of caregiver isolation have only strengthened those beliefs. At the same time, I’m learning that it’s no one’s job to make you happy. My father is impossible to please and my efforts to cater to his every need, as if I’m a DJ for his life, gets old quick, especially when his every response is that of criticism. I can not express how deeply this cuts through me. No movie I play for him is good enough. The CDs I put on are always the wrong ones. Every meal I make is not “normal stuff”… I can accept that he has dementia and this is the result of illness but I cannot accept the feelings that somehow, I am not enough. I personalize it because it’s my every effort. It’s not a single recipe he refuses. It’s me grabbing carrots from the fridge and his head shaking no, already in protest. An immediate refusal to wait and see… Maybe it will be good? “It”… that questionable step forward that might lead us both to a better state of existence if we could both just trust the outcome will be ok. Just a single step so we might see that so-called “light”.

I must repeatedly remind myself that my job is not to make my father happy. My job is to keep him healthy and safe. Unfortunately, that means I must forgo my own happiness as our lives are inexplicably linked. But again, #FakeNews… If it’s no one’s job to provide another with happiness, than it’s a personal mission to find it for yourself. So, in an ode to gratitude I have a few things that are light worthy! Here are some recent highs:

Copper Cutlery Set

This copper cutlery set! It is a first addition set that has been crafted from 95% post-commercial consumer material. The copper was salvaged from a scrapped windlass motor off a boat (a tribute to my old life sailing with the Sea Education Association) and pieces of electrical cable found in a local junk pile. Reduce, reuse recycle? (Hi AmeriCorps Cape Cod! You are another reminder that time remains within us…) The parts were recycled and repurposed for this second life as functional art. They have assorted imperfections due to the nature of scrapsmithing however it’s specifically those details that provide the set with character and tell their story of longevity. Like us, we all live with scars but we can also chose to recognize them as marks of beauty. This cutlery set speaks that language. They are imperfectly perfect! Working with copper is a new venture for me that meets my heart at the intersection of food as craft and production through recycling. This is just the beginning and I am beyond excited to see where it leads.

Sprouted Kitchen Cooking Club

I joined a cooking club! Being that I’m a chef, you might think it’s odd that I’m following someone else’s recipes but honestly, I’m tired of wasting mental energy on everyday things. Meals are a must but the what of each meal keeps getting in the way. Time spent determining what to make is just as consuming as shopping for ingredients, prepping a recipe, and cleaning-up afterwards. These tasks are never ending and the churn and burn of making grub, wedged between the needs of caregiving has come to feel like an inescapable rut. It’s not that I don’t want to make good food. I just don’t want the puzzle of “what” day in, day out, when the complexities of senior care continue to compound my life. So, for a change of pace I signed-up for the Sprouted Kitchen Cooking Club! I’ve been following Sara Forte, the creator of Sprouted Kitchen, for a while now and her take on food run close to my own approach wholesome. This cooking club has infused some fun back into my culinary game. I have frequently experienced “cooking block” (think writer’s block) over the course of the 3 1/2 years I’ve now been in Florida. Maybe it’s that lack of seasonal change? Who knows.. All, I can say is that this club has come as a sort-of relief. It provides both freedom and structure which is exactly what I need right now, with enough room for creativity when inspiration strikes. Perfect example? Homemade pitas to compliment the Chopped Mediterranean Salad in the gallery photo above.

Homemade pita! Looks at that puff!!!

Long story short, if you are a busy caregiver or parent or anyone in need of some simplified direction on what to make for dinner you might want to consider joining the Sprouted Kitchen Cooking Club. This is my first month of participation but I can say with honesty that the recipes are both tasty and wholesome and streamlined for convenience. Put that together and boom! That’s a gratitude bomb in my book. I find myself looking forward to the weekly release of new recipes which is a cheap thrill maybe, but thrill nonetheless! That “light” lives in looking forward and the little things are not excluded.

Spoon Carving Workshop on Cape Cod

For two nights only!

Speaking of looking forward, I have something big to throw into the mix! I am excited to share that I have a spoon carving workshop on Cape Cod! I’m collaborating with Milisa Moses at the Plant Work Shop in Orleans, MA for two evenings of fun where we’ll be carving our own kitchen tools! Spoon time! Can you feel my excitement?

I often wonder if “making” has become a lost art. Within the world of technology, manufacturing, and mass production, I find myself yearning for the chance to settle into craft. Almost like a nostalgia for slowness, spoon carving has become my modern past-time. I dream about it happening on porches, around campfires, and in public spaces. It’s a hobby that is both fun to gather for or escape into. It nurtures both independence and togetherness. A foundation for community building...

I realize this is just my biased, dreamy perspective on what many might see as geeky kitchen hobby but in my many hours of carving spoons I can say for sure, that it’s not really about the spoons. It’s about the people! It’s about the conversations and the shared experience and the opportunity to make time to take time. It’s about the stories that are told as well as the silence that’s held. The holding of space…

So, to say that I am excited for this workshop is an understatement! I am over the moon at the thought of returning to my old community to share something I love with the people I love! I cannot wait! So come. We’ll make spoons but let’s also start a conversation! Let’s be together on a solo journey for craft and learn about being us!

Hand carved apple wood spoon

If you made it this far, I am impressed! That’s the look of change over here as we roll into fall. A summary of the last few months but with a view of the future. It is with a little pause for reflection I recognize that nothing about life stands still. For all the stagnation I complain about, I have to also remind myself that feelings are just feelings. Feelings are not facts and it takes a concerted effort to recognize the difference. Change is constant and when you make time to take time, you harness the power of moments. Those moments can add up to things that are truly special and with a deep breath I see that. A sigh for light.

What’s changed in your world? I’d love to hear! There is still a quarter left for 2018 which means there is still time for time…

Life Updates- 2017/2018

It's been a while since I've done an update but let it be known that no news is good news!  At the close of 2017, things were moving rather quickly.  Suddenly, life had an uptick. I needed to refocus some priorities and maintain momentum.  And just like that, January was over too.  Again, all good stuff and I hope this tide continues, however caregiving remains the riptide and it dictates everything else. So, here's what's been goin' on...

December 2018

Spoons

Hand carved, wooden spoon...

December was incredible for my spoon venture.  I sold 4 spoons at the end of the year and felt the pressure of filling "orders".  This still blows my mind. I officially opened the shop section of this website only a year ago and it's been so well received.  I can hardly establish an inventory but that's a production problem that fills my heart. 

In addition to selling spoons, I thought I would explore the knife business by selling carving knives to budding carvers.  In theory, this is great but the reality of shipping knives in the mail without proper blade protection is a bit of a liability.  Safety first! I needed to make protective sheaths...  Wha-what? Knife sheaths?!  As you might imagine, I was clueless, especially for this curved blade below.

Curved blade knife used for carving the bowl part of a wooden spoon.

YouTube was full of suggestions for straight blades but the curved blade left me stumped.  Insert Jesse, a good friend and owner of the Jewelry Studio of Wellfleet.  She suggested I take the leather jewelry class offered through the Art School at the Boca Raton Museum of Art. The logic here was that instructor would likely have enough experience in leather working to point me in the right direction. It would be a fun class and get me out of the house.  Sure enough, that's exactly what happened!  

Leather Jewelry Course

Honestly, the class didn't exactly fulfill my sheath dreams but it did solidify fun into my schedule.  I got so much joy from the creative process.  Learning something new scratched my own creative itch.  It helped break-up the caregiving monotony and the perpetual thoughts of feeling stuck.  This leather class reconnected me with my "old" self, the person I was before this whole mess started and reminded me of these wise words by Nayyirah Waheed in her book Salt.

“Where you are, is not who you are.”

— Circumstance

The class reminded me that at heart I'm a maker and my soul is forever analogue.  I fell in love with the process. Leather work aligned with my attraction to raw materials.  Something about it clicked.  Below are a few bracelets that represent the beginning of a brand new hobby:

Adjustable, yellow-dyed leather bracelet with eyelet detail.

Secured, teal-dyed leather bangle with brass and nickle eyelets and riveted closure.

Secured, navy-dyed leather bangle with assorted rivets.  Cause, I love rivets!

January 2018

#koolbob - Health Update

Unfortunately, it's not all fun and games. My dad was in the hospital at the end of the year. We made our way to the ER at 3 AM via ambulance which my hope is for the last time.  The event proved tragic for both of us.  Awaking to his health concerns in the middle of the night, I was forced to recognize the hopelessness of our situation as I too was sick.  Only hours before I was throwing up for some unknown reason.  Food poisoning?  Flu? No idea... But the reality was stark. We were alone.  I was slow to respond and overwhelmed at the crisis.  I called 911 somewhat unsure if he was having a 911 moment.  This is a frequent mental debate I think many caregivers experience.  Is the given episode worth the chaos that follows?  Am I ready to light this match?

True to form, that phone call was the match that started a fire, and swept us straight into all the misgivings of the healthcare system. If it were my own life, then I might be more obliging to the procedural side of things.  The parlay of treatment makes sense in regard to the longevity of health but not when measured alongside that of dementia.  My father (and I suspect many seniors that end up in the ER), became a matter of medical whims.  A test subject for assumptions...  The inability to describe what's wrong often leads to random tests, many of which are safeguards backing medicare compliance and have little to do with physical health and everything to do with who picks up the tab.  The liability on part of the healthcare industry is much too great and therefore procedural tests and treatments, (several of which I now know were absolutely unnecessary) have become the backbone in determining a diagnosis for many elderly.  This medical process of elimination is nothing short of confusing for anyone with some form of dementia and is often physically painful.  The excruciating cries, barely muffled by a curtain, are damages accrued to both the individual and their caretaker.  Where one feels the physically pain, the other is destroyed at heart, and the over all sense of hurt and suffering only gets compounded. It's these visceral cries that continue to haunt me from my mom's sudden passing.  These sounds I can't unhear...  Sounds that have been nothing short of brutalizing and ring all the more loudly when it comes to paying premiums.  Ultimately, my dad's hospital trip proved "minor".  He was discharged later in the day with a diagnosis of mild constipation and some acid reflux.  We were sent home nearly 10 hours later with over the counter prescriptions and I had a new headache in how to unwind the trauma he just incurred. 

What people don't realize is that managing dementia is the art of managing chaos.  Rather than implement chaotic measure at the ER, staff could better their services by foregoing some procedures and listening first to patients between their garbled words and observing their behaviors in their most basic form.  Treating through the distortion is not exactly "treating" a dementia patient and the health profession could learn a lot by just looking and listening.   Doctors will likely refute this statement but that illustrates the refusal to listen.  To truly care for someone with dementia you must first care for their environment.  Actions and procedures need to be assessed with regard to overall comfort because it's what happens later, behind the scenes, that ultimately impact one's quality of life.  

“To truly care for someone with dementia you must first care for their environment.”

When we returned home, my father's anxiety was at an all-time high.  He was restless, experiencing a new pain (urinary, because he was forced to have a catheter rather than water that would help him pee on his own), and agitated in a way that I found abnormal to his norm.  He repeatedly said he was in pain and dying, leaving me again feeling helpless and ultimately hopeless.  Somehow we got through the night and after a follow-up check-in with his primary, it was determined after he left the hospital (where he had an EKG) and prior to this doctor's visit where he had another EKG, he suffered a heart attack.  The worst part is that I think I watched it.  I saw it happening and yet remained inactive both out of fear that another hospital trip might in fact kill him while also taking foolish comfort in the idea that he would never have been discharged if his condition was at all serious.  His condition at the time was not serious but his endured stress from the experience went overlooked.

Long story short, I enrolled him into hospice care shortly there after.  For those of you that feel sorrow towards what you think hospice means, I encourage you to do some research. (You can start right here.)  This is actually one of the best decisions I have made and stand by their approach of patient and family centered comfort-care.  I'm happy to share more about this decision in the comments or through private messaging if you want but for now just know that this is a good thing. I'm hoping the hospice team will enable my dad to live his best version of life for the time that remains. I want to do small things with him when I can and I don't want to live in fear that taking him somewhere might risk his health.  He's almost 86 years old.  The risks are plenty obvious!  But I need to part ways with the burden of caregiver guilt and feel confident there is a team of health professionals that get us. We want to live life, not wait for its passing.  Thus begins our new forward perspective... and below is a little taste of what that looks like.

At the Boca Raton air field for the WWII airplane tour.

Knife Sheath Class

Ok, back to knife sheaths!  At the start of the new year, like a gift from the universe a leather knife sheath class was being offered locally.  (Wwwhhhaaaaattt?!!!!!!!!!!!) Clearly heeding the sign, I enrolled.  It was a five hour workshop and as expected, it was for straight blades. But, beggars can't be choosers!  I took my straight craving knife to the class thinking I needed a sheath that runs parallel to my belt.  Not the perpendicular style where the knife points down.  I wanted it across my lower back all discrete like a bad a**.  Granted, this is a work in progress but you kinda get the idea.  Just imagine this sheath like a rugged tramp stamp.  You with me?!

Straight knife sheath for my Mora carving knife.

Spoon Carving Class

Well, you know how one thing leads to another. It just so turns out that the place that was offering the sheath classe is interested in hosting a spoon carving class! Like a true act of fate, I met the fine folks over at The Guild Folk Art School and in a few short weeks we will be hosting a spoon carving class for the community.  I'll keep you posted on dates when we work that all out but in the mean time, take a look at their offerings.  Everything from blacksmithing to ceramics to knife making (you know that's next;)) and more!  Take a look. 

Darebee Exercise Challenge

Another new year high has been completing this 30 Day HIIT Challenge during the month of January.  There are lots of excuses I could have made to fall short on this goal but when my friend Erika sent it to me post binge eating holidays (which I continue to stand by!), I  realized, I had no excuse.  I could make excuses but none of them truly held weight and rather then complain or pass judgement on why this challenge wouldn't work, I just committed. I suspended judgement and expectations and pursued the challenge of discipline.

I find it easy to fall prey to the inertia of caregiving and neglect things.  What's worse is society almost makes the excuses for me... "Oh, go easy on yourself.  You have a lot on your plate".  That might sound reasonable but deep down I know when I'm being lazy.  So yeah... An experiment in exercise but more, an experiment in follow-through.

About two weeks in I realized the hard part about exercise for me is just knowing what I was going to do on a given day.  Good intentions are nothing without action.  This challenge told me exactly what to do and no equipment was necessary.  Bingo! I have no mental space to create an exercise strategy here.  Just tell me what to do and I'll do it!  So, I also pulled the trigger on this workout book! I figure, 100 workouts to complete over the rest of 2018 shouldn't be so hard.  That's about 9 workouts a month (cause it's February now) which seems more than manageable. And the no equipment necessary/can-do anywhere factor helps eliminate the obvious excuses. 

If you are curious what's inside I put an Amazon link below. It's the same deal at the challenge link above but expanded.  Also, if you have any suggestions for timer apps please send them my way!!!  

100 No-Equipment Workouts Vol. 1: Fitness Routines you can do anywhere, Any Time

By Neila Rey

As for anyone following my pistol squat attempts, just know that they are coming... one day.  Not sure why I thought I'd have those down in a month but reality checks are a good thing!

Alright, that has to be it for now.  I'm impressed if you are still reading this!  I could keep going but my soul is running dry from being on the computer this long.  I told you I was analogue. ;)

TL;DR- Life updates

* This page contains an Amazon affiliate link. If you click on the affiliate link and make a purchase, I will earn a commission at no extra cost to you. This helps maintain the cost of How To Feed A Senior. Thank you for your support.

 

A Twig's Life

I have a pretty big stick pile.

Leaf litter is slowly starting to accumulate around the house because I have "ideas".  I have lots of ideas...  Like any good hoarder, I see potential in scraps and find myself defending their storage.  As long as I do something with them, then they amount to more than trash matter, right? Or that's what I tell myself.  The truth is, I have a vision and that vision is generously being fostered by the fine folks at Knoll Farm where I am proud to announce I've been awarded a Better Selves Fellowship spot this August!  I am beyond excited!!!!!

My fingers are crossed that I make it to this Vermont refuge.  You never know the challenges when it comes to dementia caregiving, and deciding now that I will attend, will ultimately be determined in the hours, maybe even in the minutes before my departure.  But for fun, lets just go with it and assume I am going.  I am going!!! 

The fellowship is a nurtured self study of sorts.  Everyone attending will be on their own journey yet together, as a community, we will help each other achieve our goals.  My goal will be spoon related but more specifically I want to focus on carving.  And I don't just mean technique, although, I do hope to acquire new skills.  I want dive deeper into the other aspects of carving like knife care and sharpening but also the spiritual side.  I want to explore the intention, the meditation... 

“There is something healing in the process of making a tool with your own hands.”

I've long thought carving was meditative.  There is something healing in the process of making a tool with your own hands.  It's a placeholder for empowerment, slowly revealing that applied effort produces results and that ultimately, you can in fact do whatever you set your mind to.  It's so easy to surrender to hopelessness but the act of carving always provides a renewed perspective.  With each shaving you are reminded that you're closer than you think, a small echo in your head, akin to a mantra, tells you "keep going".  

As the shape begins to reveal itself, so do all the metaphors.  The "handle" usually appears first.  It's the comfort zone in skill development but then you get to the "neck" and the "bowl".  As with any neck, it's fragile.  You must maneuver delicately or risk breaking it, and I'm reminded of the similarities between these moments and life.  You go on thinking you have a "handle" on things only to realize at some point, your burdens are nearing a breaking point.  It (or you) might snap under the stress without care.  It's a reminder to nurture sensitive areas, a case not to neglect self-care... Then you get to the "bowl".  Perhaps you jump around while carving the spoon but I find the bowl to be one of that last areas of attack.  My students often avoid it till the end.  There is a different technique involved and it requires a different knife but non-the-less it's a critical component to making a spoon a spoon.  It's actually the single most identifiable trait of the spoon yet on the carver's journey, it's often left to the end.  

It's always an interesting pause at this point.  Questions arise as to what things we are avoiding in life?  What single task, if just accomplished, would make a considerable impact in how our days are lived?  What techniques or tools are missing so you can move beyond this block? Wait. Are we talking mental block or block of wood?  It's hard to keep up with the narratives...

I wish I could explain better the thoughts I have on this whole topic.  It's hard to write about carving and a general summery feels impossible.  I have so much to say but can't seem to organized the words for a reader and partly I think the words escape me because so much feeling is at play.  So much is left unsaid here and it's a huge part of why I will do whatever it takes to get to the Knoll Farm refuge and participate in the Better Selves Fellowship.  I know something there is waiting for me.  The mantra keeps telling me "just come"...

Everything's Gonna Be Ok

Sometimes there's just no words...  

Just #Koolbob

This is a round-up of some favorite shots of my dad from Instagram.  It's not as easy for me to make updates over here but with it being Father's Day, I figured it was the perfect time to archive some #koolbob moments. 

My dad.

#koolbob. A veteran of the Korean War and now fights the war on dementia. As this Memorial Day passes I find that our family remains in hope that#veteran Affairs will hurry its decision to award him VA Benefits.
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We submitted an application back in January, and by March finally received notice that they had received it. And now, the last day of May, I find I am still holding my breath! "Hurry!!!! We need you! He needs you!"
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If a picture speaks a thousand words then there are a thousand more in this photo that are lost behind the glamour of social medial. My dad is freshly shaven and styled to perfection which is honestly a rare treat. He is handsome and forever cool and I think the glimmer of what is left of him shines through right here. But he is suffering daily. He is in anguish of the loss of his mind and his independence. It's a painstaking effort to uphold dignity to the caliber that this #soldier deserves but he deserves it! On this #memorialday I continue to hold my breath, cross my fingers, and pray #veteranaffairs REMEMBERS him!

UPDATE: On this Father's Day, June 19, 2016, we continue to wait...

The Man.

People always commend me for undertaking #caregiving but what they don't realize is for one, they give me too much credit and two, they seem to neglect their own capacity to provide #love.
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#motivation to be a #caregiver wasn't a random calling, hollering at me from a street corner. It was more like a nagging voice reminding me I had the ability to make a difference yet waiting patiently for me to act.
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If you had the capacity to change someone's life for the better, would you do it? Of course you would! Because we are not different you and I. Separated by circumstance maybe, but connected in#humanity and a belief that when the time comes for you to step-up, you will. And you will. It's not a question of if? It's just a matter of when. And when "when" comes, you will be relieved to learn that you didn't make the difference. You are the difference!
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FYI: Friends of #koolbob do not worry. This picture was taken months ago and he has quite recovered;)

The Myth.

Behind every good#caregiver is a pot of #coffee. And in my case, this guy, bringing it to me every single morning while I am laying in bed!

The Legend.

Shave and a haircut, two bits!

That's all for now.  I hope all the dads out there are having a great day!

Life Auto Corrects...

I have officially been here for one year now.  Wha-what?!  How has it been that long and also a lifetime at the same time?  I can't say that I feel like I have adjusted but at the same time, I have fallen into a routine which is quite telling that I've settled in. Looking back at all that's happened, I realize a single year can act as an eternity and for good reason.  Some things just take time. 

The hardest thing about moving here to care for my parents with Alzheimer's and dementia was the decision to actually do so.  Knowing the vision I had for my future would likely never reach reality was hard to swallow.  Like, chokingly hard to swallow.  I used to have nightmares where I would literally wake-up gagging.  (You can read about that here.) I developed something called Plum Pit Syndrome, a psychosomatic stress disorder that lived in my throat and caused strange episodes of laryngitis that would last for weeks on end.  I also lost about 20 pounds.  These things helped clue me into the fact that it was "time" but really it came down to a single photograph taken by my friend Julie.

How cute is Murphy?!

I spent quite a few nights at Julie's house to avoid the long drive home from Bourne to Wellfleet after teaching Grain & Grain, my bread and spoon carving class.  Those nights typically included wine, tears, and a strategic plan for a new vision of my future.  I absolutely dreaded what I imagined laid before me and desperately longed for a version I could like.  I was overwhelmed by my pending future and it contained nothing but darkness.  The strange thing though was the blindness to my then current reality.  This picture (Not the best. Good job Julie!), complete with striped sweater and bulky blanket with medium sized dog was a sudden wake-up call.  All things which should have added size, somehow made me feel small.  And not just small but frail.  I was losing myself to a battle in which the war had yet to start!

This photo helped me realize my parents weren't the only ones who were sick.  The anxiety surrounding the decision to move, which had been on my mind for roughly two years at this point, was literally impacting my health and deteriorating my quality of life.  Fortunately (or unfortunately) the decision was made for me with a call from Adult Protective Services that came shortly after it was taken.  You can read about how that went down here but I can't help but wonder what would have happened if that call never came.  Would I still be clinging to old dreams, wasting time with procrastination?  Would my parents' health have reached a devastating critical mass?  Would my own health be an issue obstructing my desires of any kind?  I don't know...  But what I do know is that the nightmares have subsided, the plum pit has gone away and my weight has plateaued which is telling that life has normalized. 

The fragility I owned a year ago has given way to a stronger person with clear values if nothing else. There is no room for the weak and I mean that literally.  Lifting my mom off the ground after a fainting spell is no easy task and all 130 pounds of her lifts like the weight of the world.  The weight of my conscience is also gaining strength as this experience has shown me the atrocities of bureaucratic culture and a general lack of dignity for the elderly.  However, I can also say, I have never been more aware of the beautiful resilience of the human condition and the profound reach of the human spirit.  These things were never part of the visions crafted on Julie's couch because these were part of the unimaginable. I never would have guessed...

As for my future, the vision remains blurry and pixilated but with pops of color and structure of something still coming into focus.  After months, even years of living with the hovering darkness of responsibility, I am finally putting some trust in the idea that things are going to be ok.  I am once again, dreaming of a future that is my own and it's a version that I like!  As my wise friend Angela often preaches, "life auto corrects" and we all will be rerouted in the right direction with time.

Creamy Curry Asparagus Soup

I am realizing that my coping mechanism for stress is cooking.  It's the clock in my routine and also, a vehicle for comfort and craft.  I initially thought all this cooking was somehow for my parents.  That preparing these nutritious meals were the means to their health while securing some level of comfort to our home.  Now, I am realizing the effort is often for me.  It's comfort in the idea of purpose,  encouraging me out of bed so breakfast can meet the table.  A creative outlet that cures boredom and is nutritious at the same time.  Cooking is becoming a meditation.  It grounds me.

Alzheimer's and dementia plays with the mind.  As my parents' memory loss increases so does anxiety, both theirs and my own. The anxiety doesn't discriminate based on a diagnosis. Everyone is fair game, demented or not, and I can sometimes feel panic waving at me from a distance.  As panic creeps in, I cook. Sometimes I even dance and sing. The combination of entertainment and comfort food is enough distraction to curb a moment's unraveling, dismissing the chaos about to ensue.  Apparently, the horrifying sound of my singing voice can bring the room to a screeching halt.  Even the dog stops in shell-shock.  But whatever, I feed him too...

Oddly enough, something about the food and entertainment formula works.  As a caregiver, you cope and provide comfort as best you can, utilizing whatever weapons are in your arsenal.  Mine happen to be food and a knack for the theatrics (or maybe not?).  Weapons aside, my advice for anyone in a similar position is "do what you love, for those you love" and let joy be the creep for a while.  

Now, without further ado, I give you Creamy Curry Asparagus Soup!  

Ingredients

• 2 tbsp oil
• 1 small yellow onion chopped
• 1/2 head of cauliflower chopped
• 1 lb asparagus, ends trimmed and chopped into 1 inch pieces
• 1 1/2 tbsp green curry paste
• 1 can coconut milk
• 2 cups water
• 1 lime
• 1 hard boiled egg, grated
• 1/8 cup cilantro
• 1/8 cup cashews
• 1 scallion sliced on the diagonal
• 1 tbsp plain yogurt
• 1/4 tsp flax seeds
• a zip of sriracha (Optional, and yes, a "zip" is an official measure in my book.)
  Directions

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1. In a large pot heat the oil
2. Add the onions and saute for a few minutes until they soften and become translucent.
3. Add the cauliflower, asparagus, and curry paste, stirring to combine and coat things evenly.
4. As everything starts to cook, keep an eye on things and stir frequently to keep the ingredients from sticking.
5. After several minutes, add the water and a big squeeze of lime and deglaze any bits that are stuck to the bottom. The lime will help with flavor but also assist in maintaining that fresh green color!
6. Make sure the water covers the vegetables. If not add more water so they are just submerged and then simmer until everything is tender.
7. With an immersion blender, puree the soup till it's smooth. (This can also be done in a standard blender in batches after cooling.)
8. After the soup is pureed, bring the temperature back up to just under a simmer and stir in the coconut milk. (Tip: It's good practice not to boil coconut milk.)
9. Taste the soup and make adjustments as necessary. You will probably want to add salt and possibly more lime juice. This is based on preference and dietary considerations if you are watching sodium intake.
10. After adjustments, serve the soup in bowls topped with a scattering of egg, cilantro, cashews and scallions.
11. Add a dollop of yogurt, topped with a sprinkle of flax seeds and a zip of sriracha if you want the heat.
12. Serve it with extra lime wedges on the side in case anyone wants more.

"End scene."

A Rhyme Within Reason

Is it just me, or are we all searching for something?  And by something I mean it in that grander, life's purpose kind-of way that has us all itching for a magic key that unlocks contentment. Contentment, different from "settled" yet settled in a way that allows the passing of each day feel gratifying, accomplished and with the favor of satisfaction that feels like we have earned it.  This is an annoying and haunting itch that scratches away reason and leaves a paranoid residue that times-a-wastin'.

I feel like I have spent so much time chasing down dreams, anxious to get on to the next thing only to wind-up lost and confused as I circle back to some original thought that I have long but abandoned.  And now, as I transition into this role of "caretaker" this cyclical pattern repeats, again, only this time distraction waits at a distance.  Without the flurry of my life's former routine I am forced to address circumstance while equally measuring possibility against the culmination of my experiences, skills, and abilities.  

I know I am smart.  This confusion isn't a matter of insecurities.  I have an undergraduate degree in Human Development and Learning from East Tennessee State University.  I have a master's degree in Central and Eastern European Studies from the prestigious Jagiellonian University in Krakow, Poland with a concentration in social transformation.  I am a Certified Natural Chef thanks to the Nutrition Therapy Institute and upon graduation landed an amazing gig with the Sea Education Association.  There has been no shortage of education or adventure, so like I said, my floundering is not a matter of insecurities. 

All of these things stack nicely in the job department but when you are a caregiver it doesn't matter much.  That dream job within grasp is an illusion because obligations on the home-front come first.  Try explaining that to your would-be employer.  Can you tell I have entered a deep pondering phase?   And it's one thing to ponder the future but it's quite another to give up on those dreams (aka: Grain & Grain) when the reality of this life and this moment, is the cage I must learn to live in.  There is no fun in dreaming dreams that hold no possibility and this is one of the biggest crimes against caring for someone with Alzheimer's and Dementia.  

As a caregiver, it's dangerous to believe in your own ideas because fantasies can break you.  I don't want to see the marketing materials full of smiling faces at assisted living centers or rehab hospitals or any other misguided sales pitch.  I want reality!  I want to see the real life of this disease like the moments captured by Upside Down Daughter.  Show me how bad it can get so I can understand my own capacity and develop a measure for when I need help.  I need to establish my own foundation and understand where it is weak.

The future is bleak for so many reasons but maybe those are projections too?  Maybe the face of pain is actually one of strength and all that work you managed prior to this moment is the foundation for a better you?  A foundation for a future that you are still building and doesn't need to make sense now because it's just the ground layer but its the work necessary to stabilize your future.  If I circle back to 17 years ago that Human Development and Learning degree really laid some ground work.  What at the time seemed the fastest exit strategy from college is now a tool for understanding aging, an interest I guess I have had all along.  That chef certification is used constantly and when combined with the human development knowledge I realize, maybe there is a place for me to help explain diet and age related illnesses.  Maybe social transformation exists within social media and these things are all working together to create my purpose?  Maybe Grain & Grain, my budding business idea of artisan bread baking and wooden spoon carving isn't a dream to abandon, but a passion to explore within the context of my current circumstance? 

What if we don't need to have everything all figured out? What if the quest for purpose isn't something you happen upon, but instead becomes you?  Like with carving spoons, life experience is a tool in the making, taking shape little by little until you have a handle on things and destiny is the dessert, a dessert you created yourself and is sweeter than ever.  Is this self care?  I don't know. I certainly don't have things figured out but as I listen in the stillness and try and calm the restlessness I have moments where I can reflect on my trajectory and I start to wonder if maybe, just maybe...I have arrived?

Eating Guidelines for Seniors

A while back I wrote several  mini articles on considerations to keep in mind when providing meals for seniors.  The series was titled "Rules For How To Feed A Senior" and identified four areas of concern that caregivers should be mindful of when assembling meals for the elderly. Those individual articles are still available on this site however I thought I would kick-off the New Year with a summary of those details in a single article for easy reference.  An easy trick for remembering these guidelines is the acronym "HATS".  

HATS stands for:

1. Hydration- Dehydration causes all sorts of issues from blood pressure complications, UTI's, falling, etc. Keeping seniors hydrated should be a top priority!
2. Appearance- As the expression goes "you eat with your eyes" so why not go the extra mile and make your gesture count. Presentation can go a long way when it comes to lifting spirits.
3. Texture- Diffuculty swallowing and poor teeth are common concerns for seniors. Keep this in mind when preparing meals. Tough, crunchy and chewy foods can be problematic.
4. Size- Seniors likely don't eat as much as they used to however balanced nutrition is still critical for optimal health. As portion sizes become smaller, caregivers should strive to uphold a well-rounded diet for those they are caring for.

Hopefully this posts is helpful for those of you managing a senior kitchen.  I look forward to sharing many new culinary crafts with you in 2016 and I would love to hear about things you are cookin' up!  Have a Happy New Year!

On Finding The Right Caregiver

Finding the right caregiver is no easy task.  If you land in the desperate position of needing someone ASAP, then take comfort in knowing that agencies exist with a hiring process so you can have supervision on the quick.  Trained personnel, armed with a client history and years of experience that enable you, the concerned one, to relax, well-assured of your loved one's safety.  That is of course until the possible realization that your newly hired help isn't exactly "helping".  Sure, your new assistant might contribute with drives to appointments, errands or even provide hygiene services but if it's not the right fit, then it is not the right fit. 

I went through an agency and two different caretakers before I realized what exactly I needed from an aid.  Things that sounded great on paper like registered, certified, or experienced didn't exactly translate into quality care.  My first two aids came with thick accents, iPhones and the expanse of knowledge one can only feel confident with when you are in your 20's.  The reputable labor and high price tag landed me with youthful strangers my parents could neither understand nor relate to, both engaging more with Facebook than my folks while I was out.  Sure, they assisted with those minor tasks and of course were able to address immediate safety concerns but at the end of the day I was looking for more. I craved a scenario that made my parents more comfortable at home and as comfortable as possible with their own evolving chaos with Alzheimer's and Dementia.

 Essentially, I was looking for someone who was a "substitute" me.  I had none of the above agency criteria that's supposed to make you feel better about hiring a stranger.  I am not registered with any such agency.  The only certificate I have exists by birth with absolutely zero relevance to my ability to perform specialized duties.  And as for experience?  Ugh... I guess you could say I have little to none?  However, for all intents and purposes, I am the best fit for this job.  I am the Primary Caretaker, Power of Attorney, Health Care Proxy, Estate Executor and perhaps most comfortably or awkwardly, I am their daughter.  Unfortunately, my extensive awesomeness is not enough and I needed to hire someone with the skills, compassion and integrity that were as close a match to my own while simultaneously finding someone with the strengths where I was weak.  I needed someone to engage with my parent, to help them with their struggles and act more like their companion than a complacent house-sitters.

Luckily, I eventually found this magical person and it was a hunt that lasted more than a year.  She is not from an agency but instead, she is from a place called Word of Mouth.  She engages my parents with art, puzzles and conversations that run in circles making absolutely no sense yet engages with a level of patience and kindness that far exceeds my own. She does incredible things like fancy up-dos with my mom's hair, helps her shower or get dressed and brushes and flosses her teeth!  I am not kidding about the flossing.  She takes great care in all 19 of them!!!

I can only pay her $15 an hour which is the standard rate in the caregiving field but I assure you she is worth every penny and so much more!  She is actually so good that I feel a twinge of shame that I can't do more for her because she is doing so much for me.  It is the shame that tells me I have found the right person, when every payday I hand over a check and it's a check that feels so meager in regard to her worth.  I often worry about the financial constraints of this disease and question our ability to afford and sustain quality care.  I actually question all kinds of things related to navigating this stuff and have no idea if I am making the right decisions or not.  I second guess myself constantly but not when it comes to Diane.  She is the right fit and I know this not only from my feelings surrounding pay concerns but more importantly the room she has created within our home to let in joy.

Thank you Diane! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!  

Rules for "how to feed a senior"...

As I temporarily leave my parents in the care of other “givers” I have been answering a lot of questions around what they like to eat.  I realize a website titled “How To Feed A Senior” should probably clarify some of the rules around the “how-to” part.  In my experience I have come to learn that it doesn’t matter what you serve.  If it is difficult to chew, hard to swallow, or complicated to eat, it’s not going to work.  Issues around poor teeth, difficulty swallowing, and decreased motor skills all increase concerns around senior nutrition and complicate matters for caregivers. The next several posts will be dedicated to a few of the rules I have come to live by and will hopefully help others whom find themselves in the same position.

Rule # 1: Texture Matters

• Keep it soft- At this age the teeth are often in rough shape.  Many folks wear dentures or have teeth that have experienced neglect leaving the mouth sensitive and chewing stressful.  Chomping down on anything can be challenging and things like tough meats, corn on the cob, whole apples, large sandwiches, etc…  These things all put a high demand on the teeth.  Biting and chewing I have noticed are becoming increasingly more difficult.  It’s not to say that my dad doesn’t want a kobe steak, it just means I have to cut it up into small bites that aren’t going to overwhelm him when he has it in his mouth.

• Moist- I know people hate this word but too bad.  Moist is a must! As Alzheimer’s progresses, difficulty swallowing also known as dysphagia, can be a common problem.  This can easily lead to malnutrition and dehydration as those struggling with the condition avoid eating and drinking as the act of doing so physically becomes more difficult.  If you are having difficulty swallowing do you think a dry cracker or dinner roll is going to help?  No.  So, dry is out and moist is in!

Golden Years

As modern media seems transfixed by capitalizing off youth, I have to wonder if I am considered past prime.  I am not even 40, yet the stereotypes that surround “mid-life” remind me I should prepare for an impending crisis.

 At some point, we as a culture have adopted the mentality that life should be figured-out about half way through, and any short comings of that projection are often internalized as failures.  But why are we so quick to adopt failure when the game itself isn’t over?  Half-way is really only part-way, with a substantial chunk still left.  What if the second half is the best half?

The modern portrayal of the “golden years” seems incredibly tarnished.  Seniors have been marginalized by fears of fixed-incomes, arthritis, and blood-pressure medication all indicating to a decline of old-aged comfort. The marketing tactics for seniors even perpetuate these fears dedicating advertising to pharmaceuticals, security systems, supplemental insurance plans and that b*tch who has “fallen and can’t get up!”   

Grey hair, wrinkles and everything else, can’t we find these things to be beautiful?  Isn’t there a place in our cultural mentality for sweetness where golden is really gold and not just a disguise for old?  I refuse to believe that old age can’t be something to look forward too.  One’s best years always need to remain on the horizon and serve as both a destination and a reminder that good things are still to come.  The saying suggests that “Life is sweet”, not youth, no matter how much the media tries to sell us this message.

So, if you care to share, please tell me what your finish line looks like?  Is it a vision of pill boxes and Depends because that is certainly not mine, no matter how mainstream that marketing gets.  Pills and adult diapers may very well be a necessity in my future, but they aren’t exactly the material of dreams.  Not at all! I want the fine china, and I want it every day!  I want hobbies and an early afternoon cocktail on a porch swing with a book.  I want to be able to get-up off the floor without help at any age and go to exercise classes even if they occur on a chair.  I look forward to the discounts because who wants to pay full price for [insert anything here].  And my early-bird special includes sushi not a Salisbury steak?  No, wait.  What is Salisbury steak?  Am I missing something here?  Should I want to want Salisbury steak? 

My point is the golden years should be the best of years and we as individuals and caregivers should strive to make that version of life possible.  Maybe it’s only a fantasy but at least it’s one to look forward to!