Lebanese Cooking Class!

Yesterday I pulled a Rachel Ray and taught two cooking classes. I taught a Lebanese Cooking Class to some folks. On the menu was Chicken Shawarma, Rice Pilaf, Hummus, Roasted Eggplant, and three different sauces. I have to say, it was actually really fun, and I hope the students enjoyed themselves. I think the second class of 10 went a lot better than the morning class of 6. I think it's because we were all friends and chatted up a storm, so people were just kinda messing around instead of watching me make my food. I suppose that's ok. Then after that first class, I was incredibly tired. Like passed-out tired. I went to my bed and basically passed out. There were two helpers downstairs, but guess who my daughter wanted to be with???? Just guess? ME of course. So I told her, please oh please let me sleep, as I was already half way there. I gave her two choices, stay with me on the bed and sleep or stay quiet, or go downstairs and play with one of the helpers and play with me when we wake up. She choice the first option, but it ended with, "mom, are you done sleeping yet?" So finally she went downstairs but I heard her not being so nice so I went downstairs. I ended up playing with her, which is of course, what a good mom should do. But I was just so exhausted and out of it.

The second class was much better. People paid attention. I really felt like a teacher and it was great. Then after the cooking, we went downstairs and ate the food, complete with Arabic music. It was pretty cool.

My First Photograph Exhibit

My First Photograph Exhibit

Out of the freaking blue, I found myself being one of 8 "photographers" to have photos in an exhibit. Long story short, but someone heard from someone that I took a few photos, and they were pretty good. So I got a phone call the night of, asking if I'd like to include some of my photos. Seeing how this person was pretty important, and another fairly important person was part it, I figured, hell, why not. Honestly, I didn't want to because I had to get ready to teach my Lebanese Cooking Class a day later. So I hurried up and found some of my better pictures, then I had to find a way to print them. There isn't like a service here in Honduras (that I know of) where I can just upload pictures from my computer to Costco or Target's Photo Center, then pick it up in an hour. So what I did was...with my own photo paper mind you...I printed some photos at work. The quality wasn't the best, mainly because I had inkjet paper and my printer at work was a laser one. But it was ok.

So then I go to the show, and there's one of my pictures in the middle of the room. I kind of felt proud and was glad that I was part of it. My photos, along with others that were more superior, were scattered across the room. It was kind of nice.

Then here's the thing...ok... I truly believe that sometimes the same insecurities, shyness and feelings of always trying to fit in that once plagued you in middle school or high school will always follow you, even into adulthood, where I am now. Case in point, in the middle of the exhibit, the photographers gathered together and took a picture with this really important person <<< by title only. So as they started gathering, I didn't jump in the picture. WTF is wrong with me? I don't know if I was shy, and didn't want to just jump in and say, YUP, I'M COOL, I'M ONE OF THE PHOTOGRAPHERS. I hate star fuckers and I didn't want to be one. Or did I not jump because I was secretly hoping that someone would notice I wasn't in the picture and say, "Portia, get in the picture!" Anyway, whatever happened, I wasn't in this picture. So there.

Here are some of my photos:

Back At It

I'm back to researching online for whatever this illness that has my mom under its grasp. When I was in California in April and May, it was like nonstop researching. Maybe it's this, then a test would confirm it's not. Possibly it's that, then another test would confirm it's not. Or her symptoms would change. So now, I'm looking at Peripheral Neuropathy...a problem with nerves. Cold intolerance was always her main problems. In the beginning she called them chills, because she felt cold she'd say. So the doctors focused on the word "chills" and tested the common sicknesses that cause chills. But perhaps it was cold intolerance that made her have the chills, as opposed to a sickness like dengue or malaria giving her the chills, which was what the doctors originally thought. So I'm doing more and more research, and some of the tests she needs to have done is the EMG (a test I thought she should have had MONTHS ago), nerve conduction test and a nerve biopsy. Knowing my mom, she is not going to want to take those tests, and frankly I don't blame her. What's the deal with the insurance company? It's been almost a month and a half since the Stanford study was supposed to be submitted to the insurance company and still my stepdad has heard nothing yet. We wouldn't have to go to Stanford if the damn medical community where we live was competant and cared enough to actually do more than what it expected of them.

Bring the Funk

Ugh, I'm in that funky icky mood again. Well, don't get me wrong, I've been feeling like that forever, ever since my mom started to get sick, but I've been doing a pretty job hiding it and acting like all is well. But lately, I've just been super dooper tired and I really don't want to do anything but sleep, which is of course impossible with children. I've started to take vitamins again, even though I missed the last two days.

Yeah just the general funky feeling. Feels kinda sucky. I guess I didn't think my mom would still be sick by the summer time. Now I'm stalling making plans for our annual visit to California because of this. Before, I couldn't wait to travel back to see my mom and just enjoy being back home. Now, I'd be ok if I didn't go home. And that feeling hurts. I wish my mom would get better. I wish they knew what was going on. Something, anything.

Ewww, I feel so dirty inside

I love chai latte. So when I found that it was available downstairs at the coffee shop, I bought it. Pretty good, I thought. This morning, I went downstairs again and grabbed another chai latte. Lo and behold I see the lady using an artificially flavored chai latte syrup! I felt all dirty inside. I hate artificial foods and all that flavored crap. There wasn't a gram of real tea in my chai latte. Nasty!

Those Damn Cocktails

When I got home yesterday, I spoke with my mom for about an hour. She seemed ok, not well, but ok, during the conversation. What concerned me were her accounts of past events - the things she did, and the things she didn't do. I'm so worried about her and her safety, and even the safety of my sister. It's hard to explain and maybe I'd rather not, but I'm very worried.

After our conversation, I took a quick shower and went to a function with my husband. Normally, I HATE going to these functions, same people, same shit. But last night I was more talkative (even in Spanish!) and more outgoing! I know there's a psychological term for it. I guess I'm trying to compensate what is going on with my mom with my extroverted behavior.

Mom May Go To Stanford Hospital

After all these diagnostic tests, we not even close to anything resembling a diagnostic. I am completely saddened by this situation. Our only hope is to submit her to Stanford Hospital until they find out what is wrong with her. Obviously, what is going on with her is completely rare. I am hoping Stanford will find something that her doctors here have missed.

I'm still having a hard time dealing with my mom's condition...or lack of a condition I should say. To this day, I act like I'm fine, but I know I'm not. It seems like the more I get back into the swing of things here in Honduras, and the more I do things and enjoy my life, the sadder I get. I always think of my mom and I wonder why this is happening to her. Part of me feels it's not fair that she's in this horrible state, and I'm continuing to live my life. I feel a sense of guilt about it. I want her to enjoy life too, the way she did before she gets sick.

Right now, I'm sort of planning my trip back to the California in the summer, and my God I hate to admit this, but I would be fine if I didn't have to go. Before I couldn't wait until it was California vacation time! Now, I'm like thinking of things to come, and I worry. What if she's not ok before we visit? What if she's worse? I used to look forward to coming home to California, mainly because it was a chance to see my mom again, to talk with her, to laugh, to joke, to just BE with her. Now, I'm worried that it won't be like that at all. Like it will be like my last visit to California, maybe worse. That, like my last visit, I am powerless to help her.

I am just getting sick of people asking about my mom. I know it's not their fault and maybe they do care, but I just can't explain everything. So after a while, I just say, "yeah she's better," and I know it's a complete lie.

Errands, errands, errands...

Miadora is at school. Timmy is playing happily with the babysitter. I've got about 3 1/2 hours to do about 5 or 6 different things on my To-Do List. Let's see how long until Facebook, my newest obsession, takes me away and eats up my time, leaving me with still 5 or 6 different things on my To-Do List. *sets timer*