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Vino Navegado…. A warm Chilean sangria

wine glasses

I’ve mentioned a Chilean sangria drink, “Borgonia,” in a previous post. It’s a combination of sugar and diced/mashed fruit with wine that is best enjoyed in the sweet, summer months. Today, I wanted to discuss a different one, a sort of winter version called Vino Navegado. If you are familiar with the German drink “Glühwein“, Vino Navigado is very similar.

As many of you know, my husband is Chilean and one of my most favorite goods from Chile is their wine. While this post is essentially a recipe for an affordable and delicious holiday drink, I thought it would be helpful for the fact-loving readers, to provide some background on Chilean wine.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the geographical size and shape of Chile, it is one of the most unusual in the world. It is a long and skinny country which spans more than half of the entire west coast of South America. Due to the geographical make-up of Chile, the country naturally has the perfect conditions for making wine. It has an arid climate with soil that is rich in minerals. The dryness of the climate allows for a higher concentration in the juice of the grapes. Grapes with a high water content don’t make good wine. And the minerals in the soil directly influence the  flavor of that juice. In fact, Chile has such a high mineral content in their land that one of their leading exports are minerals.

Because of the shape of the country and it’s placement in the South American continent, Chile has a lot of ‘natural protection’. Every side of the country has a natural border which protects its land and crops from pests and plights that could intrude from other countries. The northern part of the country is occupied by the Atacama Desert. This is the driest place on earth and obviously very hot, not a habitable environment for pests. Along the eastern border of the country run the Andes Mountains. Not a whole lot is going to come blowing into the country over those bad boys. The southern portion of the country sits adjacent to the Antarctic and is covered in glaciers. Unless fruit-eating pests start behaving like penguins, not a whole lot of threat is coming from this side either. And the entire western side of the country is bordered by the Pacific Ocean, a cold and deep body of water which separates Chile from other land masses for thousands of miles. This yields a very protected central region with incredibly fertile soil that is flat and easily irrigated.

And what’s even better … because Chile has such favorable grape-growing conditions and the labor there is cheap (a characteristic of the country: goods, especially imports are expensive, but labor is cheap) … they can produce massive amounts of wine and sell them at affordable prices. When my husband and I visited there, we found bottled water was often times more expensive than wine!

If you haven’t discovered Chilean wines, I suggest you do so. Our favorites tend to be the Cabernets, Carmeneres and the Sauvignon Blancs; although I’m really an equal opportunity wine-o and love them all! Frontera is a very affordable brand produced by Concha y Toro. My husband and I visited this vineyard during our last trip to Chile. Concha y Toro has been in production since 1883 and is now, the second largest wine producer in the world. Their wine is fabulous! One of their most infamous brands is the “Casillero del Diablo” line. Casillero is a mid-priced bottle best enjoyed as-is. And while Concha y Toro certainly sells aged-varieties for $50/bottle, they also make very drinkable ones for $10/1.5L. Frontera is one of those brands. Only amateurs think you have to pay top dollar for good wine;)

Ok Amanda, “What’s the point…?” “How does this relate to Vino Navigado?”

Vino Navigado is a warm wine drink that involves heating wine for a short time with sugar, spices and citrus fruit. When you start adding these ingredients to a wine, you change the wine. Therefore, while I love this drink, I wouldn’t want to waste an expensive bottle of wine on it. So, go to the store, look for a 1.5L bottle of Frontera, a red variety, and make yourself and your guests some Vino Navigado. I’m quite sure you won’t regret it!

In Chile, Vino Navigado is prepared and enjoyed in the winter months. In the United States, it’s a perfect drink for the holidays. (Chile has opposite seasons from the U.S) It is similar to a sangria, however because heat is used, it doesn’t require the long sitting time that traditional sangria does. The flavors of the orange and spice transform the wine into a Christmassy, wintery goodness and the warmth of the alcohol warms your bones on cold days.

 

Vino Navegado

  • 1.5L bottle of red wine ( I recommend Frontera cab or merlot but any inexpensive but tasty red will work!)
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 1 navel orange sliced
  • 2 cinnamon sticks
  • 10 whole cloves
  • 2 whole all-spice (optional)

Pour the entire bottle of wine into a large saucepan and stir in sugar to dissolve. Add the orange slices and spices. Turn heat onto low-medium and simmer approx 15 min, stirring occasionally. Do not allow the wine to boil! Boiling it will impair the wine and burn off the alcohol. You only want it to simmer long enough to heat the liquid and to release the flavors of the citrus and spices and for the sugar to finish dissolving.

Serve in coffee mugs or wine glasses with a slice of orange in each cup for presentation. (If you choose to serve in wine glasses be sure to run the wine glasses under hot water prior to filling so as not to crack the glass with the hot liquid.) Enjoy!

wine barrels

 

 

 

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Our Halloween House

 

I remember when we moved into our first single-family home. Family members who were "in the know" discovered the property and had helped my parents to make it happen. It was on the other side of town and needed A LOT of work, but it was a generous offer that allowed our family of six to move out of a single trailer and into a larger space- four bedrooms, a den, dining room and a living room and even our own fenced yard. We were excited, but only at first.

You see, a motorcycle gang had previously resided on the property and although it was summertime when we acquired it, it looked very much like a "Halloween House". With only one other house beside it, it was removed from the rest of the neighborhood. There were holes in the doors and spray paint on the walls. The old wooden floors were stripped of their finish. The fence, doors and shutters were painted black. And the property was completely over-grown. The steps creaked. There were mice. And across the street, there was even a cemetery. "This is where we are going to live… in a Halloween House?" My 6-year-old brain tried to wrap my head around it. "What was wrong with the trailer park?"

It took a village to clean that place up and make it our own. Long days with the blood, sweat and tears of many a good soul turned that sad-looking property into one that we could be proud of. Lots of elbow grease, new carpet, fresh paint, even some new plumbing, and the broken black and white house turned to a sunny white and baby blue cottage. And there were azaleas, and lilies and tulips to boot. And right in the very front of the property, just behind the fence, sat the most-wonderful oak tree with the most- perfect branches for climbing. My father attached a small swing to it for my baby sister.

Irony would have it, that when we got all moved in … we missed our trailer; the kids did anyway. My parents couldn't believe, after all the effort that went into restoring the property, that we were asking to "move back to the trailer park?!" I had gotten used to sleeping in the living room there. We were all so close together. It was cozy. Sleeping in my bed in the "new room", I felt so far away from everyone; even though my parents' door was just a few feet from my own. My brothers were now on an entirely different floor. This house sounded different. My siblings and I missed the instant community and playmates that waited just outside those aluminum steps on the cement patio that we had learned to walk on. This house was more removed and there weren't many kids in the area. It was just the four of us now, to make play with one another. We had out-grown the trailer and my parents knew that. It was time to move-on and make a new place feel like home.

In September, we started at a new school; a private school that was academically challenging and required that we wear uniforms. It wasn't an easy transition – to leave our friends, a community where we could have 'the run of the place' and a school where we were "comfortable." Even though we weren't getting what we needed from school or life, we didn't know it back then. My parents were wise to make the move, even though we hated it.

That fall wasn't a fun time for us. So in an effort to jazz things up a bit, my father, forever the Halloween King, spent one weekend in October constructing a "Halloween Hunt" (as we used to call it). He had done it the year prior, in the trailer, and we loved it. He planted clues throughout the place, scavenger-hunt style, which would ultimately lead us to a "treasure box" filled with small toys and candy. But this house was bigger with a much greater potential for hiding clues and decorating. And so, the Halloween King took us on a spectacular hunt around the house, back into the dark den, down into the unfinished basement, outside facing the tombstones, into the yard covered in orange and yellow leaves … all in search of our treasure. And with that, and time of course, we grew to love our new home. You see, despite all the effort that went into repairing that house, it didn't feel like the perfect house … until … it became Our Halloween House.

And no matter our ages or life's happenings, the Halloween festivities and the 'Halloween Hunts' continued, each year becoming more and more elaborate. And just when Dad would say "Guys, I don't think I can do it this year," our disappointed faces would give him the motivation to pull it off, yet again. One year there were clues attached to the fallen leaves, nailed to the ground. Later, when we were older, the hunt led us into the cemetery that we had grown so accustomed to living next to. And with little money but a whole lot of creativity, he always found a way to make our homemade costume ideas come to fruition. From our earliest years, through high school and even into college, we always dressed-up and we never repeated a costume idea. In our family, it didn't matter how old you were, fantasy always resided there.

When we left the house and started families of our own, the 'Halloween Hunts' stopped but an 'All Hallows' Eve Bash' replaced it. Instead of spending days typing-up clues and putting together a hunt, my father spent days making invitations and putting together goody bags for the trick-or-treaters. It took him an entire month to decorate the house! And while few trick or treaters came to our house in my youth, because of its location on the outskirts of the neighborhood, as the decorations grew, so did the numbers of visitors, up to the hundreds. Many came by car just to knock on the door of the "Halloween House". The celebration of the season never faltered. Even into his sixties, my father climbed into that tree to hang lighted plastic jack-o-lanterns that became a signature landmark every fall. The front yard became a cemetery of its own (faux of course), growing bigger every year. The lights that covered the house and the yard got brighter too; even brighter than at Christmas. Our empty bedrooms were filled with boxes of Halloween decorations. My mother's curio cabinets, left behind with the divorce, were filled with monster collectibles. And the den became a permanent set-up for a Halloween village.

Having moved out of my hometown when I started my family, if ever I had a patient or ran into someone who said that they lived there, I'd tell them that that was where I grew up. They'd ask where I went to school and what neighborhood I lived in. Then, I'd ask them if they knew "The Halloween House". Everyone always did. "That's my house," I'd tell them, "My Dad, the Halloween king, still lives there. Stop by sometime, he'd love to show you the inside." For however impressive the outside was, the inside had even more. It was a Halloween lover's paradise. And everyone who drove-by it was impressed and they were even more impressed to meet someone who once called it "home."

 

 

Life is a series of choices and circumstances, some of which we can control and others, which we can't. Life would have it that 'Our Halloween House' would fall into a similar state of disrepair that we once found it in. And my father would find himself making the hard transition that we once did, thirty years prior. This time, it's the kids who know it's time to move on. And as we learned in our youth, just because "it's time", doesn't make it easy. Like the avocado-green aluminum trailer, our Halloween House had its place and its time, but its era is now over.

It is fitting that our good-bye party there falls on the weekend before the infamous holiday. No decorations this year, those are all packed away. No lighted jack-o-lanterns, no Halloween village. This year, it's like a true haunted house. And really, the decorations aren't needed. It already looks spooky enough. But the people will still come. The kitchen, with its roof caving in, will still smell of mulling spices. Old Halloween tunes will still play through the open windows and a fire pit will still warm cold toes. Out back, my pets are still buried. And in the front, still stands the most-perfect tree with the most-perfect branches for climbing. I'll hoist my kids up into it and tell them, once again, which branch "belonged" to me and which ones belonged to their aunt and uncles. Its orange and yellow leaves will once again cover the ground and I will remember the way it used to be.

Good-byes are always bittersweet. You couldn't pay me enough to rehab that house again. And just as the house has changed, I'm removed from that town now too and it no longer feels like 'home'. Many of my memories there are not good ones. And the house was never a perfect one. It was always drafty and always creaked, but it was our house. It gave us a place to lay our heads and call our own. It gave us a yard to play in and a tree to climb. The community pool is where we became avid swimmers and the school that we once hated was just the beginning of a most appreciated journey upwards in academia.

There is more story to be told, many more chapters of life still to be written. It is with a sigh of relief but also angst that we turn the page of that chapter of our lives and look ahead to new adventures. But you can be sure that it's a chapter that will never be forgotten. Like all things in life, things change, but Halloween will always be celebrated. Until I'm old and gray … when the weather turns cooler and the leaves change, when candy corn appears on the shelves of stores and children begin to imagine what they will reinvent themselves as for the night of trick or treat, I'll always recall my youth and what Halloween was like with a Dad who was is the 'Halloween King' and the magic that the season held, living in "Our Halloween House."

halloween househalloween dad

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Pumpkin Spice…plus a little liquor … makes a drink so nice!

So I've recently been informed by my diverse circle of friends that the Pumpkin Spice obsession is a "white-girl" thing… LOL! Well, I'm a white girl … so here goes!

In most cases, I prefer to stand alone in my uniqueness. Either consciously or unconsciously, I routinely defend the under-dog and resist falling in line with the masses. I am the person who avoids trends and resists supporting the most popular craze of anything. Be it popular movies, name brands, chain-restaurants, the latest heart-throb, fashion trends, ridiculous new gadgets or hip terminology, I will at times avoid things just because everyone else is obsessed with it. I avoid buying expensive drinks, standing in stupid-long lines and filling my closets with items that will be out of style in a month.

But….when it comes to  Pumpkin Spice …. I'm just one in the masses. As a child, my father always loved the spices associated with Autumn. He'd buy spiced potpourri for the house and make homemade cider with mulling spices, the old-fashioned way on the stove. Ginger-snaps, pumpkin bread and pie were staples in our house at Halloween and Thanksgiving, long before Trader Joes (whose seasonal varieties I now stalk) and flavored Oreos (gross) came onto the scene. So maybe that's why I'm more prone to join this craze … and maybe, like my friends suggest, it's just a white girl thing.

Nonetheless, I love the signature-seasonal-spice combo (which by the way tastes nothing like actual pumpkin). So it would only make sense that I would compulsively buy the autumnal libation varieties when they showed up in my local liquor stores. For years, I've enjoyed the seasonal, spicy ciders and beers that are only available this time of year; and I love me some homemade autumn sangria or warm wine prepared with mulling spices. But this year, I expanded my horizons when I discovered seasonal liquors as well. Specifically, Captain Morgan's Jack-O-Blast and Bailey's Pumpkin Spice limited edition. I mean, if I like pumpkin-spice everything else, why wouldn't I like these too!?

Armed with these two new bottles of festivities, I went on an internet search and played nightly mixology. Both of these liquors are, as they are intended to be, full of flavor and lean towards the sweet side of the spectrum. Therefore, they can be easily enjoyed alone-sipped on the rocks or as a shot. But I've also found that they can be quite lovely when paired with another ingredient or two; but no more than two. Because of their flavor, price and limited availability, I think they would be wasted in a complex cocktail. But I challenge you to prove me wrong!

So here are some nice and simple drink recipes for Captain Morgan's Jack-O-Blast and Bailey's Pumpkin Spice! Tried and true, if you like the seasonal spices of autumn or are hosting a harvest or Halloween party with adult beverages, give them a try!  I found them quite delicious!

Captain Morgan's Jack-O-Blast 

 

img_4059I've liked Captain Morgan's spiced rum since I was a young hoodlum, so this was an easy buy for me. I found this seasonal variety to be sweeter and to contain enough flavor and complexity to set it apart from the other varieties but not so much that it became overpowering. Too much of anything, even pumpkin spice, can be nauseating and off-putting. This was neither of those things and is now a welcome addition to my bar. I think it will make some nice winter libations as well as autumn ones.

 

 

  1. Pair with RumChata and drink at room temperature or on the rocks for a lovely, creamy taste of cinnamon and spice that is perfect for crisp evenings by the fire or paired with a warm bread pudding or a bitter chocolate dessert.
  2. Spike your hot apple cider (or cold) for an easy version of a hot toddy. You can use the good cider that you buy at the orchard, but I almost felt like the liquor got lost in the weight of the fresh cider. I actually prefered mine as a complex addition to the cheap instant apple cider packets that you can find near the hot chocolate in the grocery store and yielded a sweet and clear cider drink which was neither too strong nor too heavy.  It was the perfect accompanied for late night writing and paper grading ;
  3. Mixed with a sharp ginger beer and lime juice, this liquor moves off of the seasonal drink menu and yields a nice, snappy mule that can be enjoyed year-round. I used Fever Tree's ginger beer and fresh lime and paired it with a homemade asian dinner. It was cold and spicy and paired excellently with the asian cuisine, but like any mule, sipped alone works just fine too!

 

Bailey's Pumpkin Spice

 

img_4061Unlike  Captain Morgan's, I am not typically a big Bailey's fan. This was purely an impulse buy for me. Typically, thick and sweet isn't my first go-to when it comes to adult beverages. Nonetheless, it's a good addition for special occasions and entertaining. I've also discovered a few less-obvious uses for it and I'm looking forward to combining it with food as well-such as over ice cream or mixed into a cheesecake. And for those who do like Bailey's, this one is sure to be a hit!

 

 

  1. Combine with coffee and milk, add a dollop of whipped cream and a swirl of caramel and you have a decadent Bailey's Pumpkin Latte. You're sure to impress any guest with this one!
  2. For the bourbon drinkers out there – Combine with your favorite bourbon for a dessert in a whiskey glass. Drink at room temperature or on the rocks and this combo is sure to warm you up on cold nights.
  3. In a blender, mix with vanilla ice cream, vanilla vodka and a 1/2 tsp of pumpkin pie spice. This recipe is based on a suggestion by Martha Stewart and makes a milkshake that is both easy to drink and easy to get accidentally drunk off of. It has enough spice that you notice it without giving you pumpkin-spice overload.

 

For all my Pumpkin Spice Lovers out there – Drink responsibly and enjoy! Life is too short not to buy the pumpkin-spice cookies…and drink the pumpkin-spice rum 😉

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Remembering Tiny Feet

trigger warning

baby feet black and white

I still remember my first loss like it was yesterday.

She arrived to the unit in labor, uncomfortable but excited and obviously full term. She had waited a long time to meet this baby and today it was her turn to become a “Mom”.

Placing the monitors on her belly, it didn’t take long for the horror to unfold. It’s a moment every labor and delivery nurse prays she can somehow escape and a moment every mother doesn’t even want to consider to be in the realm of possibility. It’s the OB and the radiologist who make the final determination, but its the nurse, who has already looked into her eyes and regardless of the words she chooses to use, has offered her condolences before the confirmation is even made.

And hours later upon the culmination of her labor, it’ll be the nurse who holds her hand and helps her navigate the greatest horror she’s sure to ever endure. She delivered with me. And no amount of training could prepare me for the expected but absolutely gut-wrenching silence that would occur with his birth. The silence that would make this horrible nightmare come to fruition for his mother and her wails would replace his cries.

He was perfect … absolutely beautiful … his little lips hung like a bow …. and he reminded me of my own infant son when he was sleeping.

Maintaining my composure I handed her her baby and stood with her as she tried to process her nightmare. I marveled at his perfect condition. And when she questioned why he had a blueish hue and why his skin was so delicate, I put on my nursing hat and explained the lack of activity of the heart and the amniotic fluid that he spent his entire life in. I did a good job providing her the care and support that she needed. I didn’t cry. I was clear with the information I provided but I was compassionate. I set up a bath right on her bed and together we bathed her baby boy. Then I helped her dress his limp body in the outfit that she had packed to take him home in. I wiped her tears while I managed her bleeding. I rubbed her back while I monitored her vital signs. It was all just like I had been trained to do.

I was “just doing my job”…. but “my job” was really hard that day. Outwardly, I was just another labor and delivery nurse. Inwardly, I was dying and I just wanted to go home and cry.

A coworker must have noticed my internal struggle when I finally exited the room to begin filling out the dreaded mound of paperwork waiting for me. She came to me and said “Amanda, how are YOU?” And I all I could say was …. “His mouth … it looks just like my son’s when he sleeps.” And I swallowed hard and diverted my eyes.

“This isn’t your loss.”, she said.  She could see my pain as a mother. She could see that every time I looked at that baby boy, I saw my own. She knew the weight of the assignment as a nurse. She knew the sorrow I felt as a mother and the guilt that I felt as a human being because I was able to take my healthy baby home. Despite doing everything “right”, this patient would leave our unit empty-handed and that just wasn’t fair. She knew that. And she knew the challenge that it was for a new nurse to confront death … from every horrendously, inevitable aspect. And she guided me and mentored me and she helped me to become the nurse that I am today.

From that day on, it became my goal to become more comfortable with these situations, to not feel so overwhelmed the next time I was faced with a similar outcome. I wanted to be able to navigate these experiences without being consumed by my own grief. I wanted to provide excellent medical care, know the paperwork and at the same time, not sacrifice one drop of sympathy and compassion for grieving families.

So I started volunteering to take these patients even when it wasn’t my “turn”. And my passion for the perinatal bereavement movement and community grew. I attended conferences and eventually became a certified coordinator. I mastered handprints and footprints, making ceramic casts of all size baby feet and taking photos few people will ever see. I made connections with amazing volunteers who make the most beautiful baby clothes from donated wedding gowns. I’ve attended various events in support of infant and fetal loss and I’m a unit resource for all of the nurses who feel the same sense of being overwhelmed when it’s their turn to say “I’m sorry.” And no matter how many stories I hear, no matter how many tiny feet I hold, no matter how many tears I wipe, it never stops being hard.

There is no sound like the wail of a bereaved mother. There is no silence as heartbreaking as the silence of a baby’s birth. There is no harder place to stand than alongside a sobbing mother as you hold her newborn whose heart no longer beats. There is no worse place to be than in the place of a mother who has lost her child. And there is no greater honor than to hold a baby few people will ever know. There is no greater service that I can provide. And there is no person in greater need of guidance, assistance, nurturing and memory building, than a parent who has been robbed of their child’s life time.

Over the last 12 years as an OB nurse, I have helped dozens of parents through the loss of their babies. I no longer feel as overwhelmed as I did that first day because I know the inevitability that these circumstances have in my field of nursing and I know the importance of the service I have to offer. While I don’t always cry on my way home anymore, each time I cradle a baby born still or born too soon, their tiny feet leave an imprint on my heart and the tears of their family become a part of me. I am forever changed by the fleeting presence of these little angels.

Not all of us are called to do this work. Nursing as a profession and post-mortem care of an infant is enough to break some people. I get that. But as family, friends … human beings, we all have an obligation to these families. We have an obligation to try to understand them and support them to the best of our ability. According to the March of Dimes, 1:4 pregnancies end in loss. You will be confronted with someone’s loss of a pregnancy during your lifetime and you can help.

From my experience, these are some of the truths that I have learned:

  • A mother’s love for her child begins not with the first sound of the heartbeat, not with the first movement she feels, not with the first cry. A mother’s love begins when she is a young girl and she first dreams of becoming a mother. That seed of love then grows stronger every step of the way. Infertility, early miscarriage, death due to severe prematurity or birth defects … they are all painful because they all involve the loss of a dream. The seed of love had already been planted before that mother even considered planning a pregnancy. Every baby is loved beyond measure by the parents who dreamed of their existance, no matter their size or age.

 

  • A mother’s love is forever and no matter the condition or the age of her baby she will see only beauty, tragic beauty … but beauty … even if the rest of the world doesn’t see it; and it lives FOREVER. A mother will never forget the child she lost. Whisking the baby out of the room won’t save her from anything. Pretending that it didn’t happen, won’t fill the void in her heart. Let her hold her baby, dress her baby, read to her baby, love her baby. That baby is her beautiful creation and she needs to embrace it, not be protected from it. Whatever imperfections we as outsiders might see, a mother always sees the beauty.

 

  • While we can’t always prevent tragedy, we can build memories and bonds in the face of tragedy. And these are worthy and essential practices that allow for faster healing and closure. Studies and statistics support this. Allowing parents to have time with their baby – to hold them, dress them, read and sing to them, introduce them to family and friends and younger siblings, allows the parents to feel that their baby’s existence held meaning and that their baby truly had a name in this world.

 

  •  People need to grieve and grief is labor. No one can do it for you. No amount of “It’s time to move on” or family members taking down the nursery and packing away the clothes will hasten the process. Parents need to cry in their empty nursery and pack it up themselves. Don’t rob someone of their grief process. Instead, support them, hold their hand and wipe their tears while they do it themselves. Whilst painful, it is a necessary journey. – This is an important generational change that older generations, in particular, need to be made aware of. We have learned that the “old way” of packing everything away and neglecting to acknowledge the truth was not only un-helpful in “moving-on”, but it was painful to the parents and led to a dysfunctional grief process.

 

  • In an effort to offer comfort, we must be careful not to make comments that are unhelpful or dismissive. This often happens because people are uncomfortable and don’t know what to say. They are often well-meaning in their intentions but the comments themselves are hurtful to the grieving parents. In infant and fetal loss these comments often include: “At least you can get pregnant,” “It happened for a reason,” “Maybe it’s better this way,” “You can have another baby,” “It’s better than having a baby born with problems,” “Maybe you should/shouldn’t have eaten/done that,” “You’re young…there’s plenty of time,” and “You’re lucky to have other children.” Instead, “I’m so sorry,” “I’m here for you,” “You’re a wonderful Mom/Dad!” and even respectful silence are much more helpful and exude your support.

 

  • Different cultures have different rituals surrounding death. While one family may take their baby home and hold a vigil and viewing for their family and friends to meet their baby in their home, another family may feel bound to their religious practice to bury their child within 24hrs and the mother may not even be released from the hospital yet. It is vitally important that these beliefs and practices be protected. Allowing someone to practice their own rituals allows for an inner peace that promotes healing and closure and helps prevent regret. We wouldn’t want an outsider to dictate how we choose to plan our loved one’s final disposition. So, we must be careful not to do the same for others.

 

  • Back to that forever love … intentionally not mentioning the name of a lost child doesn’t save their parents from additional pain. Every day of their lives they remember that child. Mentioning their baby’s name won’t make them suddenly remember him/her or make them sad. They always remember and their sadness is from their loss, not from your remembrance. Instead, mentioning their baby’s name shows them that their child was a person and that they have meaning and worth and are remembered; though the context of the moment should be appropriate and the remembrance should be a respectful one. Reading people’s body language is essential when navigating grief- back-off if they appear uncomfortable; and there should never been any prodding for details. But don’t be afraid to bring their name up, a simple inclusion of their name validates their existence and that is powerful for a parent to hear.

 

  • In life there are things that we can’t begin to understand, horrible things, unfair things. We will ask “Why?” until the day we die and rarely will we ever get an answer. This should not be received as a lesson to fear the unknown but instead as a lesson to relinquish control. Nothing we can do can prevent certain tragedies from happening and we have to stop kidding ourselves that we can control every part of life. As parents we can only do our best, and then, we have to hope that it works out in the end. And if it doesn’t, we need to know who to call. We need to know who will be there to hold our hand and help us navigate and cope. Sometimes the very best parents lose their children. Regardless of the age or cause of death, we need to help them alleviate any sense of guilt and uphold them.

 

According to the March of Dimes and the CDC, approximately 4.4 million pregnancies are confirmed every year in the U.S. About 1 million of these end in loss. 500,000 end in miscarriage before 20 weeks gestation, 26,000 end in still birth, 5,000 die from birth defects, 24,000 infants die in their first year and about 3,700 infants die from SIDS. And while the infant mortality rate in the U.S has dropped by 15% in recent years, it is still ranked incredibly high, at 5.8 deaths per 1,000. This is terrible in comparison to other developed countries.

Infant and fetal death awareness not only shows our community how to provide the support that grieving families need, but it also calls attention to a much-needed area of concern. Awareness yields research and research can help us to understand causes and lead to prevention.

I have never lost a child, and I hope to god I never do. Maybe that’s why my work in the perinatal bereavement community works so well. Maybe if I had lost a child, it would hit too close to home. Maybe it would be too hard to separate my “nurse” self from my “Mom” self. But as long as I can do it, I will. Because those parents need support more than anybody. Because the stigma associated with the death of a child needs to stop. Because losing a baby shouldn’t be “taboo”. And every person, no matter how small, should be remembered. Because the “Mom blame” that occurs every time a child dies or doesn’t reach their “potential” is poisoning our culture and killing wonderful mothers everywhere who are dealt the shittiest hand one could ever be dealt. It’s our job, everyone’s job, to change these ideas and give parents the support they need and their babies the remembrance they deserve.

In October of 1988 President Regan proclaimed October as “National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness” month, because he recognized that these families needed more support and that these babies needed to be remembered.

October 15th is International Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. A practice was started to remember these babies with a “Wave of Light” across the world. On October 15th, from 7-8pm, your time, light a candle and place it outside. The idea is that a wave of light will travel across the world as each time zone takes a turn burning a candle for their babies. You can find more information here: http://www.october15th.com

And if you have been affected by infant or fetal loss and are in need of additional help and resources, there is a ton of help out there and you are not alone. One such site is http://nationalshare.org/online-support/. And there are many, many more. Contact me via this blog if you need further assistance.

I trust my heart will never stops aching for the babies who came but couldn’t stay and the shattered dreams of parents who would’ve given it all for a different ending to their story. But despite the tragedy that is very much a part of my work, there is still hope and strength and so much goodness. With much humility, I thank the families who have allowed me to enter their very precious and sacred space, to know the baby that few others knew, to hear their stories and learn from their grief. I am better because you let me in. And I hope I helped you too. And I thank the workers, the volunteers and all of those who didn’t avert their eyes, but instead sacrificed their own comfort to stop and to listen, to understand, to help and to support. In our weakest moments, it is our pillars who come to stand beside us and hold us up, that regardless of relation, become our family. It is an honor to be a part of the perinatal bereavement family.

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The Pear …. Martini

pear picAnother autumnal fruit, the Pear too carries a sweetness into the cooler months and while mildly similar, is distinctly unlike the apple. The apple, firm and round and colorful has a consistent texture and can tolerate most any condition. It is the most reliable and versatile of the fruits. Pears are different. Pears, while firm at the start, if given the right environment, become soft as they ripen, and their skin, once tough becomes delicate and easily hurt. I suppose I am a lot like the pear in that respect … hardened in my youth and exterior … given my current life partner and circumstances, I’ve softened as I’ve aged and my core holds a tenderness that was once unrecognizable. I am more vulnerable now than I once was. Their flesh, whilst soft and sweet, contains a grit that is notable on the palate. No amount of altering the pear can remove that grit. With a signature shape, it hang from the tree with a narrow head that then yields to a rotund bottom. They are not uniform. They lack versatility and are best received as they are, as a whole fruit.

A common household fruit today, pears have withstood the test of time as one of the most ancient foods with records showing them being harvested as early as 1000 BC. The pear teaches us that in order to survive the test of time, we must be resilient. Resiliency at times is equated with one being hardened. While not intentional, it is a by-product of challenging conditions. When we are hardened, we are less vulnerable to our predators. But with time and the right conditions … we can allow our core to soften; and as we soften, we also sweeten. The world receives us best in this state. But let us not forget the resiliency that got us here. With one bite, the world appreciates the journey that we’ve taken … allowing our core to ripen and our skin to soften … and yet…. because of that sweetness, they don’t reject the pear for its grit. A little grit never hurt anyone.

May all who started out hardened find the conditions in life to soften and let their bitterness sweeten. The vulnerability of a soft and sweetened spirit is a sign of the euphoria that we all aspire to attain. Whilst they soften and sweeten … let their grit remain. True grit is the key to success and survival in all places, in all of time. Pair that sweetness now with a little spice … and by damn it, you’ve got one fine cocktail.

 

On a journey to give the pear its due diligence, to cradle its sweetness and at the same time give a respectful nod to the spice that is signature of this season, I searched the web for the perfect autumn pear cocktail and came up empty-handed. Every recipe that I tried was too sweet, too strong, not complex enough or too heavy. Some sounded promising but the ingredients were too obscure. So I spent a solid 2 weeks playing mixology. I searched the liquor stores high and low and I experimented with various flavors. I even made a spiced simple syrup to help elicit the flavors we so often equate with the season.

In the end, I created a cocktail that contains ingredients that are easy to find in a liquor store with a decent inventory. It yields tones of both sweetness and spice and is not so strong that it belongs on your grandfathers bar list and yet is strong enough that it earns its place on the adult cocktail menu.

I present to you the winner of my mixology experiment :

The Autumn Pear Martini

  • 1 oz pear vodka
  • 1/2 oz pear liqueur
  • 1/4 oz spiced simple syrup (recipe below)
  • 1/8 oz Crown Apple
  • a few drops of lemon juice

Shake over ice and strain into a martini glass

(For this recipe I used a measuring shot glass. This recipe makes one small martini but you could certainly multiply these amounts for a larger batch or convert the ounces to “parts”.)

pear martini

Spiced simple syrup:

  • half cup of cane sugar
  • half cup water
  • 1 star anise
  • 2 cinnamon sticks
  • 5 whole cloves
  • 5 whole all spice

Heat sugar and water until sugar dissolves. Add the spices. Continue to heat on low until syrup reduces and thickens just a tad (not too long though or you’ll turn it into caramel) and the flavor of the spices infuses the syrup. Once cooled, pour into a glass container with the spices still intact and keep in the fridge for future fall drink recipes 🙂

 

spiced simple syrup

 

And the two runner-ups were:

Spiced Pear Nectar

  • 1 oz vodka
  • 1 oz pear nectar
  • 1/4 oz pear liqueur
  • 1/8 oz Crown Apple
  • 1/4 oz spiced simple syrup
  • a few drops of lemon juice

This cocktail certainly tastes like fall! But the thickness and sweetness that the nectar, simple syrup and liqueur brought to the cocktail knocked it down in the rankings for me. But if you’re into sweet drinks and like a whiskey glass over a martini glasses, this one may just do it for you! Plus, nectar (found in the hispanic aisle for about $1/can is cheaper than vodka ;))

Orange-Pear Martini

  • 1 oz pear liqueur
  • 1 oz triple sec
  • 1/2 oz pear nectar
  • 1/4 oz spiced simple syrup

Again, too sweet for my tastes in a martini but the orange and pear complement one another nicely. And with less nectar, this one is less thick than the Spiced Pear Nectar and slightly more complex in flavor despite using less ingredients.

Happy Autumn Everyone!

 

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Navigating our way to a happy marriage

sailing-ship

“A successful marriage is like an elegant ship sailing through the waters and storms of life. The problem with all ships is that they get barnacles, ugly little unseen monsters that attach themselves to the bottom of the boat. Soon the vessel is stuck dead in the water-like the marriage that is going nowhere as the partners peacefully coexist. Little things, like the irritations of misunderstanding that come with wrong expectations, build up.”-Hans Finzel

 

My marriage is my most favorite expedition yet … and no one gave me a compass.

Fernando and I are often teased about our constant state of “being in love”. We don’t apologize, instead we accept it as the compliment that it is. Having both come from broken homes and given our life circumstances, it’s a small miracle that we’ve done as well as we have. But it didn’t come without a ton of hard work, sacrifice and forgiveness; no happy marriage does. Still, it can at times feel awkward with so many of our close friends’ marriages ending in divorce and still others who continue to look for their perfect match.

I’ve eluded before to the fact that the success of our relationship, while certainly a product of hard work, is also due in-part to sheer good luck. And I still maintain that stance. You might call it God’s grace and I’ll say the universe cut us a break; but sometimes science and psychology simply can’t explain why a particular circumstance was met with so much success, while others, who have what seems to be the perfect sailing conditions, end up shipwrecked. The sea of life is full of so many obstacles and weather conditions and each brings unique challenges that couples must navigate. Sometimes, despite a couple doing everything right, there are just too many stressors or differences for the marital vessel to stay afloat. With so many factors that may influence a relationship, it is impossible to truly predict its long-term success … even my own.

Nevertheless, I do believe that given the right mate – hard work, true grit, and a selfless heart are the most vital components to any marriage. And that age, money and even shared interests have much less to do with it. My husband and I have a significant age difference, grew up on different continents, in different generations and started our relationship with nothing-not even an air mattress. Be it luck, hard work or mere compatibility, the man I fell in love with fifteen years ago still very much holds my heart and he still calls me his “Queen”. We are an unlikely match who have managed to not only keep our marriage alive but to stay ridiculously in love doing it. And that is the measure of a marriage’s success … it’s not merely staying together. What good is a marriage if you’re simply tolerating one another? Life is too short to spend with the wrong person, but a marriage is certainly worth fighting for.

So I thought I’d take the opportunity to share the things that I have noticed have helped us to remain successful in our marriage. Many of these things seem to be missing in other relationships that I have seen fail, but it doesn’t account for all of them and it certainly doesn’t account for the sheer good luck that we’ve had. It’s not a simple formula or the end-all-be-all … there’s no such thing! It’s not the viral internet list that says “Never go to bed angry” and “Always kiss good night.” It’s not about how you met or the silly little rules girls in particular try to make (like “If he doesn’t propose in two years, he never will.”). Love is just not that simple. Instead, I’m sharing what I believe has helped us to not only stay afloat but to sail the rough waters of life in unison, with humor, grace and strength.

 

⇒ Take your time saying, “I do”. Fernando and I caught a lot of flack that we had been together for five years and had two children before we finally took the plunge. And certainly, other couples with a much shorter history have been beautifully successful. However, my stance is and always has been – if a person is your soul mate today, then they’ll be your soul mate in five years. Waiting for marriage won’t change that. But, if a person is deceiving you, time will usually reveal this. Allow your relationship to have that time.

Marriage is a life-long commitment. We took that commitment very seriously. Which meant waiting until we had no doubt about our decision. And by the time Fernando and I said our vows, we knew exactly who we were committing too. Making that final commitment too soon could be a painful and expensive mistake. Most of the marriages that I have seen fail, have been ones that were rushed into. Be it pressure from life circumstances, a pregnancy or simply youthful eagerness to take the next step … had they taken their time, they would have seen the fatal habits and character traits that ultimately led to the marriage’s demise. It’s a promise of a lifetime … don’t rush it.

⇑ Aside from time together, conquering life’s challenges and stressors together is another “must-do” before marriage. I’ve known couples who courted for 2 years and went to take the next step and it was a disaster. Why? Because in those 2 years they never took on any challenges together. They each lived in their own homes, their finances were stable, nobody close to them died, the seas of their lives were calm. And then suddenly, the waves started rolling in and the person they thought they knew, was someone else entirely. Stress does that to you. The five years that Fernando and I spent prior to our marriage were filled with so many challenges that by the time we said “I do”, there was no question who we were marrying. Divorce, death, poor finances, an unplanned pregnancy, working four jobs and going to school … we knew that if we could survive all of that … we could survive just about anything. You can’t plan for misfortune; but I’d be extra cautious if I was making a life commitment to someone who I’d never seen under high stress. Again, take your time!

⇐ Just like you’d never embark on a journey without studying the waters that you are about to sail upon, we too must study our partners. Take every opportunity to know them and understand them. When you understand someone, you can better attend to their needs and provide for them. My husband isn’t a talker. When he is upset, he wants to be left alone and likes to process his problems quietly before he cares to share them with me. I on the other hand, want to talk about my issues ad nauseam. This took some learning on both our parts. He had to learn how to be a listener and I had to learn how to leave him alone when he came home upset. Had we not taken the time to study one another, we might have assumed that each one processed our stress the same and we would have been grossly unsuccessful in supporting one another.

⇓ When you embark on the journey of marriage, you are co-captains. I am no one’s first mate. Together, we navigate and explore and build. If I submit to him, it is because he made the better call and on another day it will be him submitting to me because I had a better view. We are both equally responsible for the condition and path of our ship. The old-fashioned idea of “my husband is the head of the household” is often times used as a cop-out to blame him for his failings and to avoid conflict and responsibility. If my husband is making the wrong call, it is my obligation to speak up and fight for what is best. I will not let him make a fool of himself or do detriment to our family. And he too, is equally obligated to respectfully inform me when I am out-of-line.

⇒ Being co-captains means that our obligations lie in one another. As a result, some of our other relationships will suffer. It’s an unfortunate but inevitable price that a good marriage has to pay. Fernando is my best friend. And I have best girlfriends too. However, I have a lot less friends than I used to. Most of our friends are other couples and I have even fewer single friends and male friends. This is the opposite of what I had when I was single. I always hung with the guys and rarely hung-out with any couples. But now that I have a marriage to protect, the relationships I choose to hold onto must also cherish my marriage. I cannot engage in any relationship that would pose a threat to us. And so my best girlfriends are the ones who fight as hard for my marriage as I do. They’re the ones that remind me how wonderful my husband is and tell me to “take it easy” when I’m pissed off and come to them to vent. They’ll never be the ones that say, “Forget him, come drinking with us”. And my guy friends must also be good friends with my husband. If at any point one of us says, “I’m not comfortable with you hanging out with that person,” we are both obligated to comply; lest our marriage pay the price. It feels tragic at times, the relationships that have fallen by the wayside … but in order for your partner to be your number one, I think its inevitable to lose others. Being married has made me “picky” in a way that I never was before. I have a treasure that I must protect and only those who have gained both our trust are privy to it.

⇓ Marriage, like parenthood, isn’t for the selfish. It means putting another person before yourself. It means swabbing the deck and sending your partner for a well needed nap. It means preparing the dish that they like, exploring the places that they wish to see, and loving them the way they liked to be loved. And if the marriage is balanced, the other person does the same. My husband once told a friend of his, “I don’t worry about myself, all I worry about is Amanda. And I know that I’ll be fine, because it’s Amanda’s job to worry about me. All I have to do is love her the best that I can. She’ll love me in return.”

Sure, we all need to indulge ourselves here and there … a pedicure, our favorite snack. “Me” time is important and a sense of “self” and accomplishment is certainly a necessary component in life. One can not lose themselves completely in an effort to serve others. Having a profession or a hobby that provides a sense of pride and accomplishment fuels self-satisfaction which in turn fuels the relationship. But I believe that if we’ve picked the right person and we put our efforts into loving them, then we will need to do very little for ourselves; because our partner will see all that we have done for them and they will be eager to love and support us in return. If they don’t, then they aren’t the right partner. You don’t have to be compatible in all things … you have to be selfless.

⇑ And being selfless means sacrifice. It’s a leap of faith. It means doing things that make us uncomfortable because it is good for our partner and trusting that they will do the same. It means attending someone else’s work events, following through with a request even when we’re really freaking tired and giving up that thing that we’ve been saving for because another expense came up that is more important to “us”. It means working really hard for a long time and maybe not seeing results yet, but continuing to work. It means giving up your night-out with the boys because your wife is sick and overwhelmed (not because she told you not to go). And it means telling your husband to go, even when you’d rather have him home, because you know he deserves it and you can handle it.

We’ve all seen that marriage that ended because someone had an excessive buying habit for things that they enjoyed. And we’ve also seen those couples who’s spouse bought them their dream car after 25 years of wishing, because they knew that they’d never buy it for themselves. Which couple understood selfless love and sacrifice? And which couple suffered from selfish indulgence?

⇐ Along with selflessness and sacrifice comes another point that I feel very strongly about. As marriage partners, we should make every effort to say “Yes” to our partners requests – so long as it is not to the detriment of our self, our home or our family. Guys, that means letting her have a night-out with her girlfriends, so long as those girlfriends are not a disrespect to the marriage. Men need to understand the value of female camaraderie. Ladies, that means giving him sex when he asks for it … and enjoying it! Convince yourself that you’re a high paid escort if you must, but play the part. It’s simple. Keep one another happy and the marriage stays happy.

⇑ If you don’t do constant maintenance, your ship is gonna spring a leak. I think a lot of people, make the commitment and think “That’s it!” They’ve found their person and they no longer need to go through the tedious work of courting anymore. They stop suppressing their bad habits, stop wearing make-up, stop opening doors and bringing home flowers. The routine of the everyday creeps in and frozen meals replace the home cooked ones that we used to make to impress. We all get comfortable … and we should, to a degree. We shouldn’t be marrying someone who we can’t be ourselves with. And let’s be honest, we all put on a few pounds post nuptials! But we should never stop trying to impress.

Burps and farts, while an understandable part of life are still gross, even when you’re married. For the benefit of your partner, you don’t need to belt them out. And date nights are a-must, even if it’s a date night at home. Find a way to make it special. Open a bottle of wine, bring home a fancy dessert, cook a favorite meal, put on a clean shirt. Make-up, a sexy dress and some stilettos gets my husband fired up every time. And when he holds me by the small of my back and opens the car door or pours me a glass of wine without me asking … I swoon all over again.

Your viewpoint going into a marriage shouldn’t be “Shewww … now I got ‘em … now I can relax.” Or worse yet, “He/She’s lucky to have me.” It should be “How lucky I am to have this gift, how can I be sure to have it always?” Not a day of my marriage goes by that I think I am immune to its failure. There are women prettier than me, smarter than me, and kinder than me and if I thought for a second that someone wouldn’t scoop my husband up if given the opportunity, I’d be fooling myself. Possessiveness and jealousy aren’t the solution. Everyday I must strive to be the best partner for him so that his eyes never feel the desire to wander. And, if they did, if he strayed and left me anyway… he could never say that it was me, the marriage would end on my clear conscience because I gave him everything that I could.

⇐ Sticks and stones can break my bones and words can ruin a marriage. No one respects a captain who doesn’t respect his first hand. I know a few couples who would argue this point but I’m going to maintain my stance. Your spouse is to be cherished and your words should reflect that. Even if you think it’s being done in good fun, the moment you begin to disrespect one another through your word choice, is the moment your marriage begins to crumble. It may crumble very, very slowly but it inevitably will crumble. And if you manage to stay afloat anyway, congratulations! You just taught your children how to tolerate someone disrespecting them. Words can build-up or tear down. You can’t call names. You can’t tell one another to “Shut up”. You can’t make false accusations. We all have our moments and we are all human, but there must be a conscious effort to exclude these things from our homes. They’re toxic. All great feats are won by compromise and reasonable discussion, not screaming and name calling.

This was a skill that I had to learn, as my upbringing modeled all of these negative behaviors. And it required that I learn how to de-escalate and calm down before I could talk about something. It was Fernando who taught me that. Sometimes, that meant that I had to go to bed angry and once in a blue moon it meant that I had to take a drive. But when I returned, or in the morning, after some sleep and some time to process, we could reasonably talk-things-out without using hurtful words and saying things that we didn’t mean. The “I feel”s and the “I am concerned because” make for much more effective conflict resolution than the “You always” and the “F**k you”s. And it doesn’t take an expensive therapist to learn this skill either. While paid therapy is sometimes necessary and is certainly a viable option; a good couples book, the desire to improve and continual practice are oftentimes all you need to learn healthy communication.

⇑ Unlike toxic words, humor is the salve to most things. Not hurtful humor, not selfish humor or inappropriate and untimely humor … but a simple ability to laugh at ourselves when life flops a big ‘ol cod up on our deck or we find ourselves accidentally standing on the sail ropes. Mistakes happen, life happens and it helps if we don’t take them too seriously. The best couples are the ones who laugh together!

And in my bag of marriage tricks, one trick that I think few people utilize, and it works like a charm, is complimenting your partner in the presence of others. Try it! Their head will swell and they will love you for it!

 

I don’t know what the seas up-ahead have in-store for us. And I don’t know how long life will allow me to have a co-captain. But as long as he’s here, my hands will be next to his on our ship’s wheel. And together, we will fight the angry waves that come. We’ll shift our sails when the winds dictate a change in course. And we will continue to look onward towards our next adventure and our newest discovery. And with some grit and good luck, we’ll do it with grace and confidence and humor. Our course is endless and our love is our compass. The universe gave me a sailing partner and with him, I’m having the expedition of a lifetime!

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Think of it as the Sunday edition :)

cropped-savannah-pic.jpgWith school re-starting and the addition of another job, keeping up with my 2-3 posts a week has been a challenge. In an effort to save my sanity but continue my committment to blog for at least a year, as well as to provide quality posts … I am going to cut my posts down to once a week. I want my posts to be intentional and worthy of your viewing. Just as it can be a challenge for me to keep up with writing, you too may find it a challenge to keep up with reading :)

So, my plan is to release a post every Sunday!

Thank you for all who have supported me in this adventure and have encouraged me to write. I really am enjoying it and am anxious to see where it takes me. For now, I am using it as a vessel to share positive points of view, to practice and improve my art and as a method to build a portfolio for future writing jobs. Please continue sharing and liking my posts if you deem them worthy. The number of views I receive is how my blog gains merit in the world of blogging.

If you missed them … last Sunday I shared an article about Anxiety and paralleled it to snorkeling in the Florida Keys, a real experience for me and a timely post given the damage from hurricane Irma. And this Sunday I released an article about Apples, which included some brief thoughts about this autumnal fruit and some simple drink recipes for the season.

Thanks for following and don’t forget to subscribe! You’ll find the link on my homepage at lifelibertyandlibations.com

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Apples

“The heat of autumn is different than the heat of summer. One ripens apples, the other turns them to cider.”- Jane Hirshfield

 

apples

When the rest of the fruits have reached their end … When the warm days that once ripened and yielded the citrus and the melons and the berries and the vine-fruit have come to an end and the cold air begins to blow in … When the fresh greens of the trees and the bright colors of the flowers have turned to browns … it’s the apple that remains. While present in the summer, it’s not the star, yet it doesn’t retreat. It holds steady in the trees … waiting to ease us into the dead of winter with its firm but sweet flesh. Decorating the autumn landscape with its colorful skin, it hangs like mini globes high in the trees.

Few fruits have as many varieties, carry as much versatility and hold as signature a- stance in any given season, as the apple does in the fall. Bake them, can them, eat them off the tree; turn them into sauce, slaw, pies, cakes and cider… there’s nothing you can’t do with an apple.

Other fruits hold bolder flavors and carry a more sought-after status, with shorter seasons and higher price tags; but the apple is humble. It is an ordinary fruit but it is consistent and reliable. Indulging in the exotic flavors that other fruits have to offer is a vacation for the palate. The pairing of grapes and berries with cheese and wine are a decadent treat, and pineapples and mangos are a tropical escape; but the apple is the home that you come back to. 

If I could be a fruit … I would want to be the apple – the sweetness that eases sadness and prepares for darker days. Consistent and reliable and versatile … I’d want to be the one they fall back on … the oldie but goodie, not the newest rage or the taste of month. I want a core that is firm, bruises that are cut out easily and a colorful exterior that doesn’t fade easily into the background. The trees that would hold me are humble in size but steady- not towering like the nut trees, not wimpy like the vines, but solid and always present no matter the season. And when my days in the sun are over, I’d be the juice that runs down the face of babes … and my seeds of knowledge would fall to the earth and be reborn.  

Below are some simple apple-inspired cocktails that are perfect for the season and require very few ingredients and very little prep.

  • Fire-cider – apple cider and Fireball whiskey – mixed to taste and slightly warmed
  • Spiced Cider – apple cider and Captain Morgan spiced rum – mixed to taste and slightly warmed
  • Crown Royal Apple – crown royal and apple vodka – mixed to taste, served on the rocks (Crown also makes “Crown Apple”- serve on the rocks minus the apple vodka)
  • Apple infused Bourbon – one apple chopped, 2 cinnamon sticks and 3 cloves – in a mason jar, fill with bourbon and let sit 2-3 days or more. Serve on the rocks.
  • Apple spritzer – Moscato, green apple vodka and Sprite – mixed to taste, serve cold
  • Caramel apple martini – 2 parts apple pucker, 1 part vodka, 1 part butterscotch schnapps, rim glass with caramel and cinnamon-sugar

 

 

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Snorkeling the Waters of Life: A tale of life with anxiety

DSCF0156

 

We were so excited! Our road-tripping adventures that year had landed us in the Florida Keys and we were ready to take full advantage of the stunning waters that surround the tiny chain of islands. We had never explored tropical waters before and were giddy to get out there and have a new experience. Having done my research on the best spots to snorkel, I booked us a boat ride and snorkeling trip from Marathon Key to the beautiful Sombrero Reef. A 30 minute boat-ride would arrive us to the reef and we’d spend an hour or so in the water, snorkeling some of the most breathtaking waters on the planet.

Having only played around with a snorkel and mask a few times before, it was recommended to us that we spend some time practicing off-shore before our paid excursion. So the day before, we headed out to Bahia Honda State Park, gear in-hand. I expected that I’d be a natural. I’m a strong swimmer and with so many beautiful things to see, how could I have any trouble keeping my face in the water and breathing through a tube?

We waded out into the crystal-clear waters until we began to see coral and vegetation and little colorful fish. I secured my mask, placed the snorkel in my mouth, submerged my face in the water and went afloat. The life I saw swimming around me was amazing! Never before had I witnessed such a clear view of sea life just feet from my body. I wanted to stare at it all day.

And then, about 60 seconds later … I began to panic. I felt like I couldn’t breathe and I started hyperventilating. My initial awe of the sea life around me crashed and I couldn’t see the fish anymore. I was so consumed with my angst of breathing that the rest of the world blurred out of focus.

I shot-up out of the water. The peaceful sea and near-by snorkelers were still there, just the same. “What is my problem?!” I thought. Again, I tried. Again, I began to panic. “Why is this so hard for me!?” “Slow your breathing down”, I told myself. I made it a few minutes longer and then again, I was pulling my head out of the water and the tube from my mouth because I felt like I was suffocating.

I wasn’t the only one … the other adults in our party too found it harder than expected to regulate their breathing. But I was disappointed nonetheless that what appeared to be so simple was a struggle for me. Nevertheless, I was determined to master this skill before our expedition the next day. We had all day at the beach …. and I was going to figure this out!

I used the skills I’d learned as a nurse to assist my patients through labor as well as the tips I had received from other snorkelers and I continued to try. Still unable to focus on the fish, I put all of my focus into taking slow, deep breaths. I spoke to my inner-self, “You’re ok. Nothing is wrong.” I reminded myself to relax. Becoming more aware of my body, I realized how tense I had become and it took a conscious effort to relax each set of muscles, one at a time. It’s much harder to breathe and float when your muscles are tense. Each time I put my face in the water, I lasted a little longer before I felt the urge to lift up and pull my snorkel out. And each time, I tried again.

Then I started to find a rhythm. I breathed ….. in …… and …… out ….. in ….. a ….. slow …. and …… purposeful …… pattern ….. and my body began to relax. Slowly, I began to see more of the ocean bottom and felt less consumed with my breathing. My focus shifted from what I was doing and how I was feeling to what I was seeing. And by the end of the day, submerging my face in water while breathing through a plastic tube became second nature. And then, I didn’t want to leave. In fact, I was so in love with witnessing the goings-on of the ocean floor that I didn’t even hear my then 11-year-old screaming above the surface that there was a six-foot shark approaching, mere feet behind me! LOL, Oh well, that’s Florida for ya! The shark swam-off like they usually do (humans aren’t that tasty) and I continued with my explorations. The disappointment that had darkened my day shifted away and the initial excitement I felt, returned. It ended up a good day after-all.

The next day, we embarked on our excursion to Sombrero Reef … and we were blown away! The sea life that had impressed me the day before was nothing in comparison to this. Sombrero Reef was bursting with life. The moment we entered the water we were immediately surrounded by schools of colorful fish. There were purple and yellow brain and fan corals, giant parrot fish and angel fish, striped fish and spotted fish, more varieties than I could possibly know the names of. It felt like I was in a live-action version of ‘The Little Mermaid’ … minus the mermaids. Nurse sharks lurked on the seafloor and even a barracuda was minding his business in the shadows. Every second was breathtaking. It felt like I’d somehow jumped into the page of a National Geographic photo and I didn’t want to look away for even a second.

My family and I were changed that day. We are adventure takers and we are always looking for new and varied experiences. To this date … while many moments have come close, none have topped that day.

As we boarded the boat to return to shore, we couldn’t contain our excitement. And for the rest of the night, none of us could stop talking about the wonders we had witnessed first-hand in those Florida Key waters. I was so thankful that we had taken the opportunity to explore them. A 30 minute boat ride from the shore and $30/person proved to be worth every penny … and more. But I was even more thankful that I had gotten the advise and taken the opportunity to practice the day before. That trip would’ve been wasted had I not.

I have an adventurous spirit, I am a skilled swimmer and I have never before considered myself to be an anxious or fearful person. Experiencing what I did that first day of snorkeling was sobering; but it happened. I wasn’t thrashing around or acting a fool, but I was panicking. What I thought would be easy and second-nature, required purposeful intent and repetition in order to master it. But I persevered and I worked through my episode of unexpected anxiety; and when I did, I gained confidence and discovered a new favorite thing to do.

This past month, my family and I had another opportunity for a snorkeling adventure when we swam with the manatees in Crystal River. The setting was completely different as it was barely dawn and the water there, whilst clear, is fresh and cold and full of vegetation (perfect for manatees). It had been two years since we snorkeled the Keys and while we had peered at a few fish here and there on various beaches after that, we hadn’t done any prolonged snorkeling since that trip. This was a 3 hour adventure that started before the sun even rose. Unlike fish, manatee are harder to find, more easily spooked and are protected as an endangered/threatened wildlife species. This trip required that we remain calm and still in the water. We were instructed to float and not swim, to use slow subtle movements and to whisper so as not to disturb or frighten the manatees.

I sunk into the water, floated onto my belly, placed my snorkel and submersed my face in the cold, dark water around me. And as I took my first few breaths, that feeling of panic began to creep in again … but this time, I knew just what to do. Like labor breathing or riding a bicycle, my body remembered how to cope and my mind allowed it. Within a minute or two … I clicked right over to that purposeful, rhythmic breathing that I had mastered in the Keys … and I was at peace, floating with the manatees.

Another life-changer for the books!

 

Life is an open sea full of wonder. There is so much to do and witness and be a part of. Seeking out those adventures, searching for new opportunity and making the effort to follow-through and try something new is sure to yield more rewards than you can ever imagine. ‘In the end we’ll only regret the chances we didn’t take’ and the times we quit too soon. And yet nothing will stop you from taking a chance or encouraging you to quit faster than fear and anxiety. It is the biggest bully and the darkest demon.

The older I get, the worse it is. It’s genetic. Anxiety has paralyzed the people I love from socializing, making new moves and trying new things for decades. Whether it was a fear of failure or a lack of self-confidence or simply being overwhelmed by life itself, they have missed-out on so much because they didn’t try. Surrounded by that in my youth, I looked to others who took chances with admiration and I modeled myself after them. As I grew, I prided myself in being one to take on new challenges and new experiences, even when the anxieties of others discouraged me. And I have grown to be an accomplished and confident woman with few regrets because I broke away from that pattern. I am frequently complimented on my ability to remain calm, be it at work as a nurse or at home as a mother. I am good at remaining collected in stressful circumstances and I work well under pressure.

But the truth is … what no one knows … is that be it genetics or hormones or a learned behavior … sometimes … no matter how calm, cool and collected I am on the outside … on the inside, I am fucking terrified. And instead of pushing forward, sometimes all I want to do is run away. It’s weird how I can resuscitate a neonate who isn’t breathing without hesitation … and yet a phone-call can sometimes be paralyzing.

I know I can’t let fear and anxiety win. I have worked so hard to break away from that pattern and I have been rewarded so many times for doing so, that I know I have to continue to fight. I can’t allow my inexperience or my disadvantage or my genetic make-up to exclude me from anything that I have been given the opportunity to do. I must always try. And once I have tried, I must continue to keep trying. Life is too short not to.

 

Anxiety is the most common mental disorder in the United States … by a landslide. Studies show that anxiety affects 1:5 adults in the U.S. While it was once thought to be a disorder that largely plagued young people and children, recent studies now have mental health professionals altering their views. Many people are reporting an onset of anxiety later in life, though the type of anxiety experienced does tend to vary with age. According to this article posted in NCBI [https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3263387/], “Phobias (particularly social and specific phobias) may predominate in childhood; panic disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) may be at their highest prevalence in adulthood; while worry disorders (ie, Generalized Anxiety Disorder) may be most common in old age.”

So, I guess I’m not alone.

If you haven’t yet experienced an episode of anxiety, odds are, one day you will. And regardless of whether or not you ever experience it yourself, it’s important that everyone understand it so that they can be a help to those who struggle with it. For too long society has shamed or dismissed it and even excused it. None of those actions are acceptable.

If you had been with me that day in the Keys, what would you have said to me? Would you have shamed me by saying – “What the hell is your problem?” or “Yikes … you need help.”? Would you have dismissed it by saying – “You’re fine! Just don’t think about it. Just do it. It’s not that hard.”? Would you have excused it by saying, “It’s ok, you tried … it’s just not for everybody. Don’t feel bad … let’s just get out and go sit on the beach.”? If you had … you might have robbed me of one of my now favorite activities and a life changing experience at the reef.

We have to do better than that!

The same way I was unable to take-in the wonders that laid beneath me amongst some of the most beautiful waters in the world because I felt like I couldn’t breathe – people with anxiety can’t take-in life because they feel like they can’t breathe … or move … or think … or control it. And like me, it usually rears its ugly head at an unexpected time and they hate that it is happening. Shaming them, dismissing them or excusing them are all equally unhelpful. Instead they need someone to coach them. They need someone to teach them how to relax and breathe slowly and deeply. They need someone to tell them that they are “Ok” and that they “can do this”. They need calm, positive energy not aggressive or negative words and actions. They need help. And while medication is definitely a necessary tool for some people, often times cognitive-behavioral therapy (like education, problem solving skills, relaxation techniques, and sleep hygiene) works wonders!

Trying new things is scary … it can be terrifying actually. But with purposeful intent and practice you can master it. And when you do, the treasures that you will discover will more than compensate you.

If you struggle with anxiety, don’t stop trying because you’re scared. Hold someone’s hand and jump in … and when you do, make sure it’s someone who will teach you how to breathe …. and then, open your eyes to the wonders around you. Life is breathtaking when you are focused on the right things and you have the coping skills to enjoy them!

photos aken by Amanda Meneses at Sombrero Reef
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Summer to Fall

sangriaThe days are getting cooler and the leaves are just starting to turn.

Your hot boyfriend is fixing to leave town and your cool girlfriend, with the crisp laugh, is just coming in. Soon he’ll have moved all of his stuff out and she’ll be here to stay … for a few months anyway.

Man, he’s a good time! He’s addictive, really. So full of adventure, your greatest memories and favorite spots are usually found with him. In the colder months while he’s away, you ache for his warm embrace. He’s fun and he’s sexy. He’s lazy mornings in cool sheets, afternoon mai tai’s and hot sweaty nights that never seem to end. You want him to stay forever and as you watch his toned and oiled body make its cyclical retreat, you can’t help but shed a tear and beg him to turn around. He is wonderful … but he’s a distraction from what you know you can accomplish and at times he can be stiflingly bothersome.

As you wipe your tears, you realize, that now is the time that you appreciate his absence the most. The structure, routine and sense of purpose are a hard but welcome change. Your girlfriend knows your boundaries best. She starts your day with a crisp start, knowing that you work best when you’re forced to move quick … and then slowly warms as your day goes on, reminding you that it’s not all business … there’s still room for play. She’s a freshly pressed pencil skirt, sangria and cool evenings. She hands you a stack of work and then slides you a pumpkin latté to get you through. She’s your advisor for a new job and your date at the Halloween gala. And man … she’s a good cook!

 It’s that in-between stage when you’re living with half of your winter wardrobe and half of your summer threads. You find yourself wearing socks and sweatshirts more often but shorts still work best during the peak of the afternoon. Bags of new uniforms and supplies are tossed haphazardly on the back seat floor that you’ve yet to vacuum the sand off of. The falling temperatures are a welcome reprieve from the oppressive heat yet a daunting reminder of the frigid days to come. And pumpkin flavored everything is the greatest consolation to the end of summer-time ease.

 

To help you with this transition…. Here are some Fall Sangria Recipes. I’ve included one red and one white. Both are tried and true. And just like the days of fall … they can be served either cold or warm. But they are yummy whichever way you choose to take them. Whether you’re hosting a weekend harvest party or you just need something to ease the exhaustion that always comes with a change in season. Find something to celebrate and enjoy! Every season has its beginning and its end … find its beauty while it’s still in town.

Honey-Jack Sangria

  • 1 bottle Malbec
  • 1 cup Honey Jack
  • 1 cup Apple Juice
  • 1 orange cut into slices
  • 1 pear cut into slices
  • 1 plum cut into slices
  • 4 cinnamon sticks

Mix everything and soak overnight. Serve cold, topped with seltzer or slightly warm.

 

Apple Sangria

  • 1 bottle unoaked Chardonnay
  • 1/4 cup Everclear
  • 1/4 cup honey
  • 1/4 cup peach Schnapps
  • 2 oranges sliced
  • 2 apples sliced
  • 4 cinnamon sticks
  • 2 slices of fresh ginger root, peeled
  • 5 cloves

Mix and soak overnight. Top with seltzer if served cold. Or leave it alone and serve warm.

For an extra treat … eat the fruit that remains at the bottom.