Popcorn Popping on the Apricot Tree

Before I get caught up on the rest of my Puerto Rico trip, I thought I’d entertain you with a delicious, fun little recipe… especially for those of you who could not make the bread recipe (*ahem* MC and Jeff) due to lack of equipment, here is an easy crowd pleaser…as long as you have a large pot. You can even add nuts to it if you are a nutty kind of person. Delicious to snack on in front of the boob tube or with a good book!

Homemade Kettle Corn

• 3 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 1/2 cup fresh popcorn kernels (they do get stale, so buy a new container if your current one is from the twentieth century)
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon salt

1. Put the oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pot and place over high heat for 1 minute. Add 1 popcorn kernel and put the lid on. Wait for the kernel to pop (while you're waiting, measure the other ingredients into a bowl so you can pour them in all at once).
2. When the kernel pops, quickly pour in all the other ingredients, put the lid back on, and shake the pan vigorously. Reduce the heat to medium-high and shake often, cracking the lid every ten seconds or so to let steam escape.
3. When the popping slows to one per second, take the pan off the heat and leave the lid slightly ajar until the popping stops. Take the lid off carefully (it may have a lot of condensation on the underside) and pour the kettle corn into a bowl.

ENJOY and let me know how it turns out! ~ ‘B’idney and Di

'B'idney goes Salsa dancing in Puerto Rico

...ok, well not so much

Salsa dancing

but finding adventure

for sure

Four days ago, I arrived solo in San Juan, Puerto Rico after a grueling day of flying and delays. I was a little apprehensive leaving the confines of Orange County after not having traveled in the past couple years, but also with a new 'B'idney alongside. Once I touched down and exited SJU airport, I felt a gust of energy rush over me from entering a foreign place. I caught a taxi to my little B&B, Casa Del Caribe, in Condado, walked past a gecko staring at me from above and unloaded my single bag in the room, locked the door and went to explore the streets. A feeling of liberation and calm spread over me as I remembered how much I absolutely love traveling and miss it.

It was past 1:30am Puerto Rico time at this point, and I felt completely safe. It was nice and quiet with Coqui frogs singing in the trees and dim lights accenting the streets...oh, and a big corporate hotel called Marriott 100 yards down from my pad. I walked in search of a market or liquor store that might have some water and snacks. Found one a couple blocks down, grabbed what I needed and headed back, taking a detour along the way into the Marriott to use their restroom. Little did I know I walked into the biggest casino in town. The tables were loaded with kids playing Poker and Blackjack. I smiled, knowing a certain someone (*cough* Bub) would be grinning ear to ear at this place.

I headed back to the confines of my room, to get a little sleep before I took the puddle jumper to Vieques. I awoke less than four hours later to start my day. Attempted to visit El Moro, a historical fort, but ran into a plethora of protesters at the Capital, which plugged up the streets, causing a ginormous traffic jam, resulting in my running out of time. So, I got within 5 minutes from the site and had to turn around and head to Isla Grande airport.

Eight of us were loaded into a little puddle jumper and just as we were about to take off, the wind picked up tremendously and we had to redistribute the weight in the plane. The captain was saying how it'll be a bumpy ride. We ended up having the smoothest landing I've ever witnessed. Thank goodness he was a pilot for the US Marines for 20 some years. Hoo-ah!

I am in Vieques! What a wonderful place and it's even better when I am welcomed by two familiar faces, Tom and Todd at the airport. We hop into the little jeep and buggy off down the island to get some pizza by a Puerto Rican man who lived in NY for years till he returned to his roots and opened up the best pizza shop on the island. Equipped with a full and happy belly, we continue onward to the house. Driving down the narrow roads, we slow down to share the road with wild horses, stray dogs, cats, chickens and other critters. It's like being in a wild animal park. The house is located on a very steep hill with metal gates around the windows. Hmmm. I enter through the metal gates and find this adorable, quaint house that has been cleaned up and made charismatic by Todd. I am so excited!

I sleep. And sleep. I wake up for breakfast, eat and go back to sleep. I walk to the store, come back and sleep. I'm sure the boys are curious about my behavior. I have been dubbed 'Sleeping Beauty'. We've come to the conclusion that I've been going nonstop since my transplant, and taking care of my mom and having company in town, that now that I have some down time, my body has decided it's going to decompress whether I like it or not. Sleep is good. 'B'idney could for sure use some uninterrupted beauty sleep.

I must also mention that my first night, and my second night here in Vieques, I was rudely awoken throughout the night by the 'Vieques alarm cluck', also known as a rooster. A certified, crazy rooster that sounds like an old Ford Model T trying to start up without much gusto. After two months of unwanted observation, Todd thinks it also resembles how a rooster would sound making it's last call before falling off backwards in death. If you've noticed, the observations are only between me and Todd. That's because Tom is oblivious to the rooster. He sleeps like a rock. If the house crumpled around him, he'd still be sleeping with a blanket of debris over him.

Yesterday, Todd took me on an awesome, butt kicking bike ride. We searched for different beaches in between uphills and downhills and more uphills . I made mental notes on which ones I wanted to return to with my snorkel mask and fins. On our way back, I had completely run out of gas and asked to rest in the shade to rest my weary body. An hour later back at the house, my head was still beet red. I showered and went to sleep. Later that evening, we had Joe and Mark over for dinner. Todd made picadillo for dinner along with sauteed root vegetables. I was the su chef and assisted with the arepas and broccoli. Some accompanied their dinner with a nice glass of wine, while others had water. We had a lovely evening of laughter and friendship on the rooftop overlooking the ocean. Followed by a nightcap of a card game called Idiot. Needless to say, I was not the idiot.

It Works

Friday morning. 9:35 to be exact. I’m waiting to speak with the doctors regarding my biopsy results. Nervous? nah. If the results are at least neutral, I will be happy. Bad news, that’s another story.

Waiting in the waiting room is similar to watching grass grow. Grass that hasn’t had rain in a long time. It could take hours. Especially if they are running behind. Today, the room is filled, which means they are behind. I observe the patients and families waiting. Some read, some talk, while the younger ones text on their cell and then there are the ones who pretend to sleep, but you know they really aren’t. They are just trying to shut out the world and be alone for a few precious minutes. And then there is me, and my nice, big, laptop to keep me occupied.

Sitting a few seats away to my left is a Polynesian gentleman that has had a grueling time since his transplant last June. He is back in sweats, with a matching beanie pulled over his head. He is a tall, gentle giant well over 6 ft, but the way he is hunched over in his chair, I doubt he feels half his size. His sweet pea sized mother, sits by his side quietly reading. In front of me, a  Pilipino family of 3 are talking and texting… A grandmother and her teenage grandkids who act as her translator.  Things seem to be going well for them. And then there  is a Hispanic family. These people really stick together and come in full force. The patient who comes with the cousin, grandparent, grandkids, spouse…there is about 7 of them. They take up a whole section of the waiting room.  The adults just sit there, while the kids are coloring on the floor or running around in a two foot radius of the adults. It’s almost like there is an invisible electric fence keeping them in the perimeter. Do not cross.

……My name is called. I love Julie the nurse. She’s about my age and way cool. She does the usual temp, blood pressure and weigh in and sends me to my room. I get all kinds of friendly heads poking in to say hi.

Doc walks in. The results.  INCONCLUSIVE. Really? Doc Steiner explains to me that a very good pathologist studied my kidney samples and nothing showed up to explain the current situation. It may be too early in the stages to find anything, meaning nothing has developed enough for the humans to interpret. (Duh, coulda told you that…in fact, I thought I brought it up pre-biopsy.) Okay, so the good news is there are no signs of rejection. Yay! Therefore, everyone has done what they could they’re just going to let it go for now.

In fact, being the star prisoners, ‘B’idney and I am doing so well, that we get the A-OK to return back to my regular Nephrologists in Orange County for the next 3 months. They will keep a close eye on my progress, which I know will be ok. If my symptoms get worse, they’re going to bring me in for another biopsy… Or so they think, ha! I would like my ‘B’idney to continue looking like a kidney, and not holey swiss cheese, thank you very much.

P.s.- Brian my donor suggested maybe I need to give ‘B’idney a shot of Mountain Dew, since that’s what he pickled his kidneys with before and they seemed to love it. I’m surprised ‘B’idney isn’t glowing fluorescent green. :)

LOVE him

Today is Valentine’s Day. So I wanted to dedicate this post to my Paul (aka ‘Bub’). Honey, here are 10 things I love about you:

1. you can always make me laugh, even when  I am grumpy

2. you treat me the way every woman on this earth should be treated

3. you are always there to comfort me and walk by my side during my times of trail

4. your kindness and integrity towards me and the people you come in contact with makes you a real man

5. you take me on fun adventures no one else would dare to and you’re right there next to me

6. the little looks you give me and your hugs make me feel secure

7. your heart that found the part of me that brings out the best of us

8. you refuse to ever completely grow up

9. you make me feel like the luckiest woman

10. you are my best friend

(11. you were such a big help and comfort during the days of my transplant, organizing and getting everyone to the hospital and making sure their needs were met)

You have been such a blessing in my life and I am grateful to have you with me through this journey of life! Thanks for being you and for taking a chance on me. I love you!

2 Months

It’s not how far you fall

but how you land on your feet

that matters

I usually land pretty well

Today I am teetering a bit

and teetering is only human

until you get pushed.

I’m sitting in a small patient room down at UCSD. Waiting. I hear footsteps outside my door. They get louder and then they fade. It’s a busy world outside my door.

There’s been a debate the last couple of weeks about performing a biopsy on ‘B’idney, who has been leaking some protein in the urine. It wouldn’t be much of a debate, except the patient, me, is causing a little resistance. The resistance being that I am fiercely protective of ‘B’idney and don’t want anything invasive touching him, especially if the results aren’t going to change the course of treatment. I can be stubborn. It’s in my Asian gene. Can’t help it.

The doctor’s enter and are thoroughly amused that I am typing away on my laptop as I wait. I am blogging. People will tell you I am a quick learner. It doesn’t take me long to come up with ideas to be productive on the days I have to wait up to a few hours in clinic. It was dragging my friend along for company. Then came books. Now it’s my loyal laptop that I got for Christmas, which I LOVE.

Discussions start about my lab results. They are looking good. My creatinine  is down a bit, which tickles me as I’m a bit obsessed about results. I’m starting to feel better about my visit, thinking I can avoid the topic of biopsy. Then enters the attending physician. And along with him follows the bad news. My kidney is still leaking protein in my urine. It’s getting worse. My concern was addressed. Doctor Steiner’s understands my concern especially since it’s only a 50/50 chance of finding something worth treating, however, his concern was that since leaking protein is unusual at this stage of post transplantation, he’s concerned it may be an issue of rejection. I can’t really counter that argument. So, we briefly talk about the biopsy and ‘the date’ is set for next Friday, the 22 of February. It’s set.

As I walk towards my car, my gait waivers a bit. I try to stay strong and fight back the feelings as a solo tear rolls down my face. I am totally bummed. A feeling of roller coaster emotions enter as I went from a high to a low. A thought enters my mind, wondering if the worst happens, will I be able to go through this again? I would be better just staying on dialysis instead of getting a taste of the gold only to have it dissipate.  As I continue walking, I plant my feet firmly one in front of another. I say a prayer and know this too shall pass and I will be okay.

Whole Wheat Bread Recipe

I would like to give kudos from this recipe to my friend, Vikki and her sis-in-law, Mara who live in Branson, MO.and were kind enough to share this with me.

I love a house filled with the smell of baked goods hot out of the oven.  So, when my long time friend, Vikki,  told  me about this whole wheat bread she made with the simplest of ingredients, I had to give it a whirl.  Another reason being that I am for the time being, a steroid induced diabetic from my transplant meds and need to watch my sugars and carbs. The below recipe uses  minimal honey and is made with whole wheat, which is better for the body than processed white flour. This is so delicious, I am hooked!

The below recipe will make 2 loaves, fit for a Kitchen Aid mixer. If you have a Bosch Mixer you can double the recipe to make 4 loaves. Prep time is only 20 min! Rising time 30 min. Bakes for about 35 min and VOILA! Oh, and this freezes well.

Ingredients:
4 3/4 cups unground Hard Wheat (to be ground)
OR approx 6 cups whole wheat flour
1/3 cup oil
1/3 cup honey or less
2 1/2 cups hot water
1 Tablespoon Yeast
1 teaspoon Salt

Directions:

• Grind your wheat into flour and set aside OR use whole wheat flour
• Mix oil, water and honey in mixer
• Sprinkle 3 1/2 cups of flour on top so that water mixture is covered
• Add Yeast, making sure it does NOT touch the water mixture
• Mix and let it rest for about 10 minutes or until it starts bubbling
• Mix in the salt and then the rest of the flour until your dough ball starts cleaning the sides of the bowl. (You may not need to use all of the flour depending on your flour. Just keep an eye on it and make note of how much you need for the next time.)
• Knead dough for about 5 minutes
• Pour onto a lightly greased surface and oil your hands
• Split into 2 loaves
• Shape them and put them into greased bread pans.
• Cover and let dough rise until it doubles ( 30-35 minutes)
• Put into a COLD oven.
• Turn on oven to 350 degrees and bake for 35 minutes.
• Brush tops with olive oil, remove from pans and cool on wire rack
• ENJOY!

This is fantabulous hot out of the oven with a little butter (and jam)!! I do hope you’ll try it, I’m sure you’ll love it. :)

Recreational language

Who needs alcohol and recreational drugs when I’ve got ‘B’idney to entertain me for hours on end. I don’t smoke, drink, or do drugs. When I fill out doctor forms with the above questions, it’s really easy. I just slash ‘no’ with my pen all the way down that part of the questionnaire. And I don’t usually curse either. It’s unladylike. That was until ‘B’idney came along. Wonders never cease with this beautiful, little, fist sized organ.

My day is pretty uneventful. I shuffle around the house trying to get little things placed in order. I head out to pick up my car, which is getting some new brakes and a little TLC from our favorite mechanic. I decide to fill up on gas on my way home in preparation for my hour plus drive tomorrow down to San Diego, California  for my doctor appointments. Should have procrastinated the fill up till tomorrow morning.

I am contently sitting in my car at Costco, waiting for the gas pump to  finish vomiting its gaseous juices into my car, when out of the corner of my eyes, I see this ginormous SUV invading my car’s personal space. Closer…closer…oh nooo you don’t…SKKREEEEECH!!! 

The feeling of content vaporizes in an instant as I swing open my car door, arms raised like I’m going to catch the winning touchdown to Superbowl, as this testosterone filled language exhales out my mouth in the form of, “What the f*^$ did YOU just do??!!” People three stalls over are looking now. I’d like to think it is the sound of metal  on metal and not my musical sing-songy voice of obsenity that turned them on.

(GASP) I am having an out of body experience. Everything is in slow motion and I look down on myself in shock. Did I really just drop the F-bomb? Who am I? What would Jesus Do? Well, thank goodness I’m not Jesus today.

“You’ve got to be f*$%^n kidding me. How do you take out a parked car at 5 mph?!” I say this more under my breath to myself than for the Ruh-tard (The Hangover) to hear. A little,old, proud Chinaman gets out of his car. Speaks close to no English and looks at the damage. No remorse. No apology. (Say, where is that penis clamp when I need it? Note: Exit Only blog below.)

(GASP) I re-enter into my body and feel the…anger. I hate Asian drivers. I can say this because I am Asian-American, and I’ve had ‘my people’ attempt to take me out and anything within a 50ft radius of their car in more than one occasion.  Actually, ‘Chi-merican’ is what my cheeky British friend calls me.  The difference being that I am a good driver, who sometimes drives faster than necessary, but I’ve never hit nor taken anyone  out. Haro? If you can’t speak English and you can take out a parked car going 5  mph, maybe you should downsize to a tricycle.

My doctor’s were very adamant about me not driving so soon,  fearing sudden braking, swerving or an…accident would jeopardize ‘B’idney. Well, I was doing pretty well if I do say so myself. Seriously, who the hell gets hit while in a parked car…at a gas station? Again with the language. Sorry. This vocabulary is such a strange concept. I have been known to reprimand my close friends who speak foully. I even discussed with Brian, ‘B’idney’s previous owner, who replied, “What?! Perhaps I should have mentioned that might happen.” Can I retrain a 34 year old kidney? But of course. Baby steps. I must admit as shocking as it was for me, it was kind of liberating for a moment.

So, although the incident…sucked, I guess the bright side is that ‘B’idney wasn’t injured, and neither was I. That’s the important thing. Could have been worse. Much worse.