Hi. I'm Cheri, and I'm Vitamin D Deficient

Here’s a poorly-concealed fact about me: I like to get things right.

Part of it is because I’m the oldest of three kids. A lot was expected of me and I’m here to tell you – I was eager to deliver.

When I say a lot was expected consider this: Mom began potty-training me at … don't even try to guess … three months. This, despite the fact that, according to my baby book, I couldn’t even sit up until a month later. That didn’t hold me back, of course. I was dry through the night before my first birthday. (Sure, other people might be reticent to boast about something they did 45 years ago, but not me. You know why? You betcha. 'Cause I got it right.)

No shock, then, that in school, I was that annoying kid who wanted to be an achiever. Don’t pretend you don’t know who that kid was in your class. Every grade had one, and if you can’t provide that kid’s first and last name and an embarrassing example of their unabashed, smarmy apple-polishing -- well then, I feel sorry for you. Take a gander in the mirror. Looks like you were that kid.

I haven’t been in a classroom for about 25 years now, but my need to succeed never faded. It’s a nasty trait, but it’s there when I’m cooking, when I’m driving, when I’m writing, when I’m training the dog and even when I’m folding laundry. I want to get things right. It even oozes over into areas of my life over which I have virtually no control.

I beam when a nurse reports that my blood pressure is “perfect.” Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be? My weight? Just fine. My temperature? A cool 98.4. Urinalysis? No problems whatsoever. My vision? Surprisingly (to everyone except me, of course) good.

So when my doctor recently told me it was time for a routine Vitamin D test, I was practically eager to hear the results.

To be sure, even during routine tests, it does occur to me that something could go wrong. What if -- for example -- my vision isn’t perfect:? And I have to get glasses? And because my new prescription glasses are delayed, I mistakenly deliver the kids to the wrong summer camp? And instead of sailing, they're taught to juggle and swing on a flying trapeze? And then, instead of returning home and running into my welcoming arms, they run away with the circus? Without their phone chargers? So they can’t even call me? And since I didn’t give them pre-addressed envelopes, they can’t write to me, either? Then what? Is it now my job to clean the cat litter boxes -- just because my eyesight faltered?

I digress.

Back to Vitamin D. Really. Are you kidding me?

Imagine my surprise when, a week later, my doctor mailed a letter telling me that my blood sugar is fine, my thyroid is 1.76 (apparently okey dokey), my CBC (sorry, I have no idea) is normal, my cholesterol is chockfull of the good, life-extending cholesterol, but I am Vitamin D deficient.

Deficient? Ouch. That hurts.

C’mon! Vitamin D? OK. It is true that I never drink milk except in the form of a venti, non-fat, no-foam chai from Starbucks. But as a baseball mom, I spend ample time in outdoors in the bleachers and get gracious plenty sun. Doesn't that help my body make its own D?

Panicked, I turned to my Mac keyboard and Googled “Vitamin D deficiency.”

Wheeeewwww. OK. I can breathe a little easier now. Looks like there’s no relationship between wine consumption and D deficiency. So plainly, it’s not my fault.

However, as it turns out, researchers are realizing that many, if not most, women are Vitamin D deficient. I also learn that Vitamin D deficiency can be a factor in many serious diseases, including cancer, heart disease, and most obviously, osteoporosis. And listen to these symptoms of deficiency: weak bones, low energy, symptoms of depression, mood swings and sleep irregularities.

I know, right? We all thought that was all just part and parcel of being me!

Treating a D deficiency is easy. I take a prescription supplement once a week for 12 weeks and will be re-tested in a year. Tah. Dah.

I’m also trying to eat more D-rich foods, including fortified orange juice and eggs. Embarrassingly, I still can’t force myself to choke down a glass of milk. However, my "deficiency" (which I now choose to embrace as a “quirk”) made it easy to render a quick “yes,” when Darling Daughter requested (D-rich) tuna sandwiches this weekend.

As I may have mentioned, I do like to get things right.

(To learn more about Vitamin D deficiencies, which may affect as many as 85% of American women, check this website, http://www.womentowomen.com/healthynutrition/vitamind.aspx)

Tuna Salad Sandwiches

When I was a kid, we stretched this recipe to make five sandwiches. I'm an adult now, and Chez Wiles, the same recipe makes two hearty sandwiches. On whole wheat bread, of course.
One can tuna, packed in olive oil, drained
1/4 onion, minced
1/2 large kosher pickle, cubed
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons mayonnaise
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
Generous grinding black pepper


In a medium mixing bowl, stir together drained tuna, celery, onion and pickle. Don't mash. Stir in lemon juice and mayonnaise. Season with salt and pepper and adjust seasoning as needed.

When Life Makes You Happy, Make Blueberry Lemonade.

Last time I clicked, the so-called viral video, JK Wedding Entrance had racked up an astounding five million hits. Not bad, considering that, basically, it's a wedding video -- covering one of the 2.3 million U.S. weddings to be celebrated this year.

This one's special, though. JK Wedding Entrance (and really, you've got to see it -- http://tiny.cc/pkIy6) features the atypically exuberant wedding processional of Minnesota couple Jill and Kevin, who, along with their attendants, boogied, strutted, hip-hopped, hustled, jived and, in one instance hand-walked, down the aisle to the infectious “Forever,” as recorded by Chris Brown.

I’ll be honest. Here at home, Darling Daughter (DD) and I can’t stop watching it.

Neither, apparently, can the rest of America. The darling -- and daring -- newlyweds appeared on The Today Show and Good Morning America yesterday, and then, the entire dance -- complete with attendants -- was recreated this morning on The Today Show (you've got to see this one, too -- http://tiny.cc/xrL6f. There is some disagreement between DD and me as to which is more watchable.) Not surprisingly, the compulsively danceable, but year-old recording of “Forever” catapulted into the iTunes Top 10 today.

Within the very first few seconds, this simple home video brings a smile to the face, a tear to the eye, and then, an extra beat or two to the heart.

It didn’t take long, of course, for cynics to voice their critical opinions. In their minds, the video is self-indulgent, disrespectful, unoriginal, overwrought and destined to be imitated (not in a good way).

To them, I’ve got four words: Don’t be a hater.

C’mon. Really – how can you not be inspired and uplifted watching these folks?

And here's what I love -- the joy and the willingness of all the participants, regardless of ability. I can't see any evidence that anyone evoked the "I can't dance" mantra. They all dance. They dance as if no one is watching. They dance as if everyone is watching. What a generous wedding gift.

Just look at the unabashed joy and uninhibited spirit of the ushers, groomsmen and bridesmaids. Look at the cool confidence of the groom. Try to peel your eyes off the bride, nearly overcome with giddiness and delight.

How can you feel anything other than happy for them?

Indeed, maybe more of life’s celebrations should veer from the expected path. Imagine what would happen if more of us departed from the pre-ordained, what-we're-supposed-to-do scripts and etiquette books.

Why not cha-cha to Pomp and Circumstance? Why not accept a job offer with a salsa?

Why not do The Cupid Shuffle across the threshold of that first apartment? Why not do The Electric Slide after the birth of a child? (I don’t dare suggest a “conception” dance. I suspect it’s already been done. More than once.)

Why should we be afraid to show – and share – our joy?

Yesterday, DD was inspired to make strawberry lemonade – a recipe she perfected last summer, despite my ongoing complaints about sticky countertops and stained hardwoods. This time, though, there were no strawberries in the fridge. Just blueberries.

Since DD's 12, though, and not entirely tainted by the cynicism of teen and adult years, the solution was simple: blueberries we had, and blueberries would work.

So she came up with something new. And unexpected. And joyful.

Kind of like JK Wedding Entrance -- a lesson to all of us.

Cheers!

DD’s Blueberry Lemonade

(serves two)

2 large lemons, juiced

1/ 1/2 cups water

1/3 cup sugar

a dozen blueberries, pressed through a fine sieve

additional blueberries for garnish

Pour the lemon juice, water and sugar into a pitcher. Stir, vigorously, until sugar is dissolved. Stir in strained blueberries. Pour over ice. Garnish with whole blueberries. Drink while dancing.

The Measure Of A Successful Summer. (Among Other Things, A Second Artichoke Salad)

I’m counting my blessings.

It’s Day One of Everyone’s-Back-Home, and after fewer than 24 hours, the kids are already well-immersed in friends and visiting and storytelling and outings.

After the five hour ride home from camp Friday, Darling Daughter (DD), didn’t even make it into the house before loudly reuniting with a darling friend whose mom, upon hearing the shrieks from nearly a block away, rushed over, anticipating a bike accident or at the very least, an attempted abduction, but instead, found two 12-year-olds greeting each other in the fashion fitting a four-week separation.

(Snarky Son, a.k.a. SS,  wryly observed, “I don’t get girls.” Out of context, these may be words he’ll live to regret.)

So the kids are home, and my number one activity is now: Laundry. Lots. Loads. Lurid. A few items of my own needed to be laundered as well, but there’s no way I’d subject my clothes to that mosh pit. I wouldn't even put the dog blanket in.

By the numbers, I’ve done eight super-sized loads already. The volume of dingy, dirty, soggy, sandy items expelled from the kids' footlockers was so massive, I got to micro-sort. Three loads of whites, and then, one each of navy blue, black, khaki/gray, red/pink and light green/light blue. The whites were first to be done. Sadly, despite generous dousings of Clorox, they're still dingy. But done.

Each load plainly tilts toward one child or the other. Setting aside the five sets of towels and three sets of sheets, SS took the “whites” loads in a landslide. His victory included, among other things, a baker’s dozen T-shirts (10 with printing, three without) and four and half pairs of socks. The missing sock doesn’t give me a moment’s pause. Its very absence indicates it was not the better half.

Another pair of his socks appear to have been tie-dyed at camp – mysteriously, only from the heel up. Can he explain this? Do I even want to know?

From the navy blue load, DD could claim five pairs of shorts and three tops, but still couldn’t be declared the winner. SS took the title with four shirts plus 10 pairs of shorts. Better still (from a story-telling standpoint), two of those pairs of shorts didn't originally belong to him. One pair belonged to a cabinmate, and the other to a girl he met at a dance. Don’t ask. I didn't.

When it comes to bringing home other people's goods, however, SS only takes the red ribbon. DD, our blue-ribbon-winner, brought home an expensive Vineyard Vines belt from her “Johnny” (camp code for “boyfriend”). Again, I’m not asking. I am, however, cringing every time the phone rings, anticipating calls from irate parents.

Back on the laundry front (because really, I can no longer wrap my mind around the casualness of the camp clothes-swap), SS also took the prize for the light green/light blue load, which should’ve been an easy win for DD, since these are two of her favorite clothing colors. However, 15 pairs of boxers in the load put SS over the top. In truth, though, only 10 pairs made it to the finish line – the dresser drawer. The other road-weary, limp and threadbare pairs went directly into the trash.

There's ample space for all these clean clothes in their rooms, though, because after weeding out their closets while they were gone, I carted three lawn-and-leaf-sized plastic yard bags of old clothes to the Salvation Army. So far, neither kid has detected nary a missing item.

In the midst of all this sorting, washing, drying and folding, SS was brazen enough to ask how much money I owed him for writing to me from camp.

Now, this isn’t entirely out of line. He's only 14 years old, which means his brain development is, ahem, incomplete. And yes, I had agreed to pay one dollar for each well-written letter home. However, given that four of his last four letters included the phrase they’re forcing me to write, it's safe to assume that he’s not going to rake in the big bucks.

The four-week tally? At this point, it looks like SS: 9, DD: 12. But wait. Three of the SS letters were only one sentence, which means they didn’t nearly meet the well-written criteria. Final payout: $6.00 to SS, $12.00 to DD. That's right. The kid who already has more cash than she can count (or even locate) earned double.

Add it all up, and it’s already been a fairly successful summer Chez Wiles. I even came up with not one, but two, artichoke salad recipes this past week, which means that while the kids gorge on waffles, bacon and berries for supper (for the best waffle recipe ever, from my first blog post ever, click here), I get to polish off the last of the artichokes.

That, you can count on.

Double Artichoke Salad

1 box frozen artichoke hearts, thawed

1 well-cleaned fresh artichoke heart, shaved or sliced thinly

1 tablespoon capers, drained

4-5 long, thin strips of parmiggiano-reggiano (use a vegetable peeler)

2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley

Boston lettuce leaves, well-cleaned and dried

For dressing

1 ½ tablespoons white balsamic vinegar

1 ½ tablespoons fresh lemon juice

½ teaspoon kosher salt (or more to taste)

generous grinding of black pepper

¼ cup extra virgin olive oil

In a large bowl (a lidded bowl helps), combine salad ingredients – except lettuce. In a separate small bowl, whisk vinegar, lemon juice, salt and pepper together. Gradually whisk in oil, to form an emulsion. Pour over artichokes mixture and toss well (or better still, seal with lid and shake). Spoon dressed ingredients over lettuce leaves, arranged to form a cup. Season with additional salt and pepper as needed.