Thoughts on the first week of the NEW YEAR…

It’s been a rocky start here in the good ole USA. It’s no wonder folks are at a breaking point. We have been locked in our houses with no contact with family and friends (well, those who are not mask-vaccine-climate change deniers anyway). We have hopelessly watched as the American  justice system failed people of color. We’ve watch as our citizens declared war on the truth. And, finally, to start the year off, we watched as our country and democracy unraveled as an insurrection was mounted on our Nation’s Capital. If you didn’t have anxiety issues before, you probably do now.  So, that’s where we are…and that’s just the first week!

Now, rewind to around March 2020…

I started out last year, 2020, with the idea of posting to this blog at least every other week. Well, as you all know, we were hit with a global pandemic and I had to quickly “pivot,” as we called it in higher ed, to fully online classes, virtual events and meetings, and contactless daily tasks. It was quite the mess. And, as luck would have it, I was only a couple of months into a new position at the university; one that had been my dream-job for almost 20 years. So, here we were. Working virtually. My new office in the administration building traded for my “home office” in a bedroom so full of guitars and music equipment it was hard to find the desk. Not only was I learning a new job, I felt like I was doing it blindfolded. But, just like all of us, I did it all and did it well!

As for this blog…I had most of the website created by the time all of that happened last year but, because of Covid, I didn’t get it where I wanted until the middle of April. Since so much was happening with the pandemic and the state of our very imperfect Union, it also took me a while to find the words to write. I just couldn’t focus. It was befitting that the name of my inaugural post in May 2020 was entitled “Welcome to My Nightmare” and the second was a recipe for a very stout cocktail. I posted a vegan recipe with some basic vegan education after that but that was the extent of my foray into the blogosphere. I ended my run of blogging wisdom last year when I posted about turning 55 in June accompanied by a recipe for the birthday cake my wife baked me. I realized that this was quickly becoming a blog about eating, drinking, and the madness of confinement during a pandemic that was riddled with political strife and social injustice. Depressing, huh? Who the hell wants to read about that mayhem? It’s not at all what I intended for this blog either. But, since I am THAT person who keeps of trying until I get it right, here I am again…a new year and another chance!

So, that’s where I was, here’s where I am, and we will have to see where I am going…

2020 ends and 2021 begins; Out with the old, in with the new; and all that…

About eight years ago, we adopted the tradition of sending out the year on the Winter Solstice rather than December 31. We start off by putting on a pot of root vegetable stew early in the day, like all goddesses of the earth do (I am not sure that’s what we really are, but it sounds good for a blog post, so humor me). Since it’s the shortest day of the year, we build a fire in the pit just before sundown (Around 4pm CDT), mix some sort of winter-appropriate cocktail, and start writing down all the things that went sideways that year (yes, it usually takes a while). Once the fire is blazing and the sun has set, we throw our paper full of follies into the fire and cast all of the negative energy into the universe – to be gone forever (well, that’s the hope anyway; don’t what that crap back). That might sound a little out there, but it’s pretty awesome and it does feel pretty good to shed the baggage in a symbolic way! From the Winter Solstice to New Year’s Eve, we think about what we like to accomplish in the next year. On New Year’s Day, we compile a list of the wishes and intentions for the upcoming year; all we hope to accomplish! Then we tuck back the hand-written list in a wallet, or someplace safe, so we can bring it out on New Year’s Day the following year and see how we did. I always think I am going to be disappointed in myself (I tend to be hard on me), but it’s usually a pleasant surprise.

This year there was a lot to cast out, which I am sure it true for most folks. We lost folks we loved, we were isolated from our friends, and we were sharply divided along political lines. No matter how you slice it, it was a really hard year. As I sat down to write my “wish” or “to do” list for 2021, I was struck by the notion of trying to do and be better in 2021. Could I really take on more things to do? In addition to all the terms like “Coronavirus,” “Pandemic,” and “Unprecedented” that were Googled incessantly in 2020, phrases like “I just don’t have the band-with,” and “my plate is so full right now” have to be up there as well. I heard those two phrases almost every day from the middle of March until we left work for the holiday break in December. So, why exactly do I want to push myself to do MORE? The analogy of the full plate, just in general, insinuates that adding MORE will pile it so high that you can never finish it all. And, if you try, it might make you feel horrible or, even worse, it could make you physically ill. If we dig even deeper into the metaphor and look at what’s on the plate, what do we see? Is it balanced? Is it healthy? Is it filled with empty calories? It became clear to me that the reason the best laid plans for New Year’s resolutions fail is because there is no room on the plate to begin with – how do you add more? And why? We want to add exercise, work harder, lose weight, get a promotion, give more, be better, do better, dress better, be a better partner, spend more time with others, make more money, save more money…it’s just too much! How many of us resolve to do less, move less, think less, work less, be less? But, in truth, isn’t that what most of us really need? So, I made the decision to get out a new plate. Think about what is balanced and healthy then slowly, in a balanced fashion, add to that plate this year. Think about the things that make me less anxious and bring me peace. For starters, this blog is something I could never seem to find time for in 2020 because my plate was too full; I will try to make good on this one. As for the rest, you’ll have to come back to find out!


Party like it’s 1965!

So, I finally hit double nickels; 55 trips around the sun; 55 Gemini Junes. Yep, I am celebrating my 55th birthday in quarantine – well, we did play golf  because it is a great sport for social distancing and a game of cornhole, just the two of us, in the backyard. I wasn’t sure 30 years ago if I’d ever make it to 55 and I really had no clue what the “old” me would be like. I was pretty rough on myself when i was younger. I was quite the “party” person and didn’t really take care of myself. I also worked physically demanding jobs with long hours that took a toll on my back, knees, ankles, and feet. For many years, I worked two and three jobs, seven days a week, just to barely make ends meet while going I was to college. But, I am HERE, finally, and I don’t feel old at all! I have normal aches and pains from years of hard work, but I have a good job now, excellent health, a wonderful marriage (one I would have never dreamed in a million years would even be legal), and the heart, curiosity, and imagination of a 16-year-old boy! LOL! I think most folks who know me would agree. When Gayle, my wife, asked what I wanted for my birthday and I tried to think of something really classy and sophisticated but the list came out like this: A cornhole game, a commuter bike helmet, and some hard-to-find and a wee expensive liqueurs for the bar, so I can make fancy cocktails. Gayle obliged and I am a happy 55 year child today!

The next biggest, and most important, question in our house for special occasions like birthdays is, “what do you want for your dinner?” Since neither of us have ventured out among the masses yet – there’s just too much at stake with Covid-19 looming everywhere, 90% of folks not wearing masks, and cases rising in Kentucky – this would be a home-cooked meal. If we could be with our friends, we’d probably have them all over for drinks and dinner instead of going out somewhere anyway. I went back and forth all week between Asian (Indian, Thai, Korean, or Chinese) and “cookout stuff.” In the end, cookout stuff won out even though it’s not as healthy; it’s the middle of summer after all! My requested birthday menu was vegan burgers on the grill, corn on the cob, hand-cut oven-baked fries, and cilantro vinaigrette slaw. For our cocktails, Watermelon Mojitos! However, the thing I talked about the most all week, and want to share right now, is the vegan, gluten-free chocolate cake. My go-to blogger for all things vegan, especially baked goods, is the Minimalist Baker. Gayle is the baker between the two of us – I truly hate to bake because you have to accurately measure everything. I prefer to just dump things in and hope for the best. So, Gayle set out to get the ingredients and personalize/tweak the Minimalist Bakers 1 Bowl Chocolate Hazelnut Cake.  First of all, my favorite nuts are pistachios, so we subbed that right away. Then I prefer coconut to almond milk and coconut oil to vegan butter in cakes and brownies and such. Gayle also added a little espresso powder to the frosting for some extra goodness, and there you have it! Before I get into this too deep – just a little warning. Gayle says this cake is extremely complicated and a major pain in the butt, so read the instructions really well before you start. If you are new to baking, make sure you follow the directions! If you are a pro, just click here and ignore the pictures and commentary below.

All the ingredients laid out on the table by my beautiful birthday flowers. You don’t HAVE to buy these brands but we think they are pretty good ones! We also buy the vanilla and all of our spices from Penzeys because they are good quality and Bill Penzey, and the company, supports social justice. We’d probably but them for that reason alone, but they are really the best.


This is what the flax eggs will look like while they are doing their fake eggy thing and the coconut milk and vinegar combo are doing their magic right beside it – well, and there’s my flowers again.


Flax egg with sugar and maple syrup


Sifting the cocoa into the batter


If you’re new to vegan baking – the batter is thick and has some texture from the flax egg and applesauce, so it looks different than an average Betty Crocker cake mix batter:

In the oven we go!


After the cakes cooled, Gayle turned the out on a cake keeper bottom and put waxed paper around the edges, so I could add the nuts after it was frosted. And, there you have it! My birthday cake!


You can click all the links above for recipes. I will tell you that delicious cake took about 4 hours to make but it was soooo good! Thank you, Gayle! Love you more than life….thanks for being my wife!

Before I get back to yoga…

…I have something to say.

While preparing to write a blog about my failed 30-day yoga challenge (and I still will), I was made aware of a recent post by the Brown-eyed Baker – and awesome food blogger I follow,  Brown-eyed baker. I also noticed that other food and wellness bloggers, like Skinnytaste, had made similar posts.

In my first Jagged Roots post, I made mention that I am a college professor – have been for a very long time. For the past 20+ years, I have taught gender & women’s studies, citizenship and social justice, community sustainability, and countless other courses aimed at making this place a better world for us and generations to follow (I know, a bit corny & dramatic, but you get the point). I started this blog project as an aside; an escape from what I do for a living, but it seems this point in history is far less compartmentalized than it was a few years back. So, let’s unpack this…

The recent murder of Armaud Arbery in Georgia followed by Breonna Taylor, in my home state of Kentucky, and George Floyd in Minneapolis, both at the hands of police officers, has put a spotlight on the racial tension and civil unrest in our country. Know that I hear you and that BLACK LIVES MATTER!

A really short back story:

I was born in the mid 60’s (okay, specifically 1965!) in Anaheim, Ca. I grew up an only child, with a single mom, in deep-seated poverty – as a lot of kids with single moms did back in those days. In the early 70s, we moved to my mother’s hometown of Owensboro Kentucky to be closer to her family. For the first year or so, we had a bout or two of homelessness after relatives and friends grew tired of us living with them and we “wore out our welcomes.” We finally secured a place in government housing, applied for what was then called foodstamps and AFDC (Aid for Families with Dependent Children), and settled into our “new life” in the bluegrass state. My mother took a low-paying job at the local milk company that had her leaving in the wee hours of the morning for her 10-hour shift.  At the time, Kentucky was still writhing from the ’68 riots and it didn’t take much to fuel the still-burning embers of racial tensions. I remember one incident that escalated to the point that police barricaded our neighborhood and apartment complex from the surrounding two subdivisions to defuse ongoing racial hostilities. We were white but lived on what was called the “Black side of the Projects.” None of this made sense to me because I was too young to understand the history, but I quickly found out I was “different” from my friends and neighbors. Shortly after the “trouble” broke out, the priest at our church, Fr. Tiell, came to visit us on the pretense of making his rounds to visit all members. He told my mother someone in the parish had offered to pay my tuition to attend private Catholic school – he said it wasn’t “safe for me to go to the public school two blocks from our apartment.” He also assured her that a member of the church, a police officer, would stop by in the mornings and give me a ride to school because it wasn’t “safe for me to walk by myself.” Members of our parish took turn dropping off food baskets, making sure we had plenty to eat because it wasn’t “safe for a white woman and her child to go to the market one street over.” They also brought me toys – really nice ones that we could never have afforded. I remember asking my mother why we were getting all of this help but the same was not offered to my neighborhood friends and their families. My mother answered simply and directly – because we are white.

I learned to meaning of While Privilege at a very young age – I have carried that realization with me all my life. I truly understand that writing this blog comes from a place of privilege – I really do. I am middle-class white person after all. I also understand the concept of White Guilt and, more currently, the concept of White Fragility (Yes, they are journal articles – I can’t help it). We white folks walk a very fine line between both sides of this dichotomy and have a heap of trouble finding balance between the two. Remember white people created slavery and racism and white people are the ones who perpetuate the continued biases and hate. Those who are oppressed cannot end the systemic oppression – it is the oppressor who must end the domination and suppression. Feeling guilty or fragile is not going to solve the problem. It just makes things worse.

In addition to the racial tension in our country, the death rates of African American, Hispanic, and low-income individuals from Covid 19 are extremely disproportionate to that of others in our communities.  Inequality and inequity are staring us in the face and it’s ugly. People are stuck at home. With their kids. With their families. They are drained financially and emotionally. All of this stress creates a collective sense of vulnerability; in other words, we’ve had enough! And, when we have had enough, we start organizing and participating in collective actions and coordinated efforts to fight injustice. We take to the streets. We march. We protest. We seek change.

Now, more than ever, people are taking sides in this already polarized nation, so don’t dismiss this as just “more of those protest by liberals.” As a society we often confuse protesting and rioting – protesting is expressing disapproval of or objection to something and rioting is disorder involving group violence. People are simply exercising their civic duties, rights, and responsibilities and are responding to systemic social injustices through organized action around the country and in our local communities – they are looking for social changes and urging our leaders to right decades of wrongs.

If you want to educate yourself about white privilege and racism, Good Morning America created a list of “reads” for you here!

Now, to conclude, I will say that food is a great way to bring people together. And so is  exercise. And especially cocktails! Stay tuned for more of that…

The Inaugural Post

Welcome to My Nightmare

I have been trying to write the first JAGGED ROOTS blog post for over a year. I created the site late winter of 2019 and was excited to start, then I drew a blank. I just couldn’t decide what angle I wanted to take, or what I really want to say, or how I wanted to say it. And then there’s the audience. Who do I want to talk to – write to? The entire universe? Americans? Women only? Or, more precisely, women over 50? I knew I didn’t want it to merely be an extension of my work life (that’s full enough!) but I also knew that my education played a huge role in me becoming who I am and how I react to and interacted with the world around me. So, here we are. Somewhere in the middle of a pandemic living in a bifurcated, polarized political mess. Five minutes on social media can take you on a roller-coaster of emotions. Anger. Frustration. Fear. Confusion. Rinse and Repeat.

In the past few months, I’ve lost two of my best friends; integral parts of my tribe; my family of choice; my “ride-or-dies.” One of them we lost to unknown causes, the other to a long battle with cancer. The sister we lost to cancer was young, by any standards, but really young to me. The other was older than I am but extremely young in terms of average longevity. I miss them both terribly. When things like this happen, coupled with a global pandemic, your mortality is called into question. How can it not?

I am headed to my mid 50s now and I seem to spend a great deal of time being anxious about things that never bothered me at all before. It makes sense that as you mature, your perspective on life changes. I think the narrative, “with wisdom comes peace” is flawed. The stresses of health problems (real or not), the loss of loved ones, and other major life changes tend to accumulate as we get older; hence, we become more anxious in general. While that might come across as a little depressing, I believe there are things we can do to help mitigate those feelings. Finding hobbies you enjoy, building a routine of appropriate-for-you exercise, cultivating friends, and being mindful about what you eat and drink all play a role in combating the normal anxieties of life.

So, that’s the story! I plan to simply share thoughts on food (primarily plant-based diets), exercise, hobbies, and current trends in health care. There’s not much here yet but I will build this piece by piece – hope you might find some peace here.

Just a disclaimer: While I have a master’s degree in public health and a PhD (in higher education administration, if you wondered), I am not a physician. The information I will share is for encouragement more than anything. We are all in this together and knowing that someone else shares the same concerns about, well everything, is 90% of the battle.