Tag Archives: Featured

The ER: It’s nothing like on TV

October 21, 2013 Jennifer Dorsey 2 Comments

Just under 130 million people visit ERs every year, complaining about everything from earaches to broken bones to severe pain. I, myself, have visited the ER more times that I would like to admit, due to some chronic illnesses that love to become acute at the worst of times, combined with a tendency to twist joints in directions they are not meant to go.

Photo by Meaghan Morrison

If you’ve never been to the ER, it’s good to know what to expect in advance, because the stress of the situation can easily overwhelm you.

Bring your ID and insurance card: While paperwork is often the last thing you want to think about when dealing with a health crisis, it’s important that you have the necessary documents so that the hospital can easily get you into its system. Without them, it can be a nightmare in the following weeks to play middle man between the hospital and your insurance company—trust me, I’ve been there. That’s why it’s one of the first things you’ll be asked for: while you’ll never be denied care, insurance or not, having all of your information up-front will save enormous headaches down the road. Usually, registration is quick, and in big emergencies where you can’t really chat with the hospital staff, they’ll get it from a family member or friend as soon as possible. I keep my ID and insurance card with me at all times in my wallet, and I make sure at least one other person can access it: in college, my roommate and I had copies of everything organized and accessible—it saved the day at least once.

Know your medical history: The first thing you will do after registering in the ER is go through triage, whether you arrive by ambulance or walk through the front door. This is a short process in which a nurse or nurse practitioner will measure your vitals (blood pressure, pulse, oxygen levels, and temperature), find out what symptoms you are experiencing (always be as descriptive and honest as possible—unlike hospitals on TV, they aren’t likely to spend hours and thousands of dollars worth of tests figuring out what you are hiding: drugs, drinking, sex, all of it is important), ask for your pain levels (scale of 1-10), and get your medical history. This will include information like what medication you take, including any vitamins, your drug and alcohol use (again, be honest!), medical conditions, and any past surgeries. If you are female, you will also be asked if there is any chance you could be pregnant and when your last menstrual cycle was (it’s as awkward as it sounds at first, and often I forget—I hate this part). All of this information is key to helping with diagnosis, so it’s important to keep it handy. If you have a few things you need help remembering, keep a list on your phone or somewhere else handy so that the stress of being sick doesn’t cause you to forget the dose of your daily medication or the name of that surgery you had years ago.

The wait: ERs are notorious for their wait times. This is most common in big-city ERs where life-threatening traumas are more commonly experienced. I’ve experienced wait times as short as ten minutes and as long as five hours. It’s a toss-up as to when these times will be the worst, but I’ve found that nighttime is definitely the longest wait. There’s less staff on call, tests take longer, and there are more accidents coming in.. In the end, your wait depends not only on how many people are there but also how ill you are in relation to the other patients. If you are having a long wait and your symptoms change, make sure you let the triage nurse know immediately.

Getting care: Once you are seen, don’t expect there to be a private room: it’s often simply a curtained-off area. This can be extremely awkward at times, because you can hear everything around you. Sometimes it’s difficult to overhear, especially if someone is very sick around you. Other times, you’ll hear the wackiest conversations: I once heard someone find out that they were pregnant with their mother there, and her reaction was hilarious. In the ER, people watching is one of the few forms of entertainment available.

A different nurse will probably take your vitals again, will likely take some blood, and will ask you many of the same questions you were asked in triage. They are required to do this: it’s annoying, especially when you’re stressed and worried, but it ensures that they are getting the right information. Depending on your symptoms and complaints, they may also put you on an IV immediately. An IV is a tube inserted into a vein, most often in the arm where blood is taken, which facilitates getting fluid into your body (often saline) and medications for pain or nausea. It only takes a minute to insert and, though it’s super uncomfortable, it no longer hurts once it’s in.

After the nurse has seen you, a doctor will follow. Sometimes this wait can also be a bit lengthy, depending on how many people that doctor is covering. He will again ask you about your symptoms and conditions, and may have more extensive questions than you have experienced previously. Depending on your situation, he will then likely order medications or tests to figure out what is going on. Those tests can vary from blood work or urine analysis to an ultrasound, X-ray, or CT scan. Every trip of mine has varied because it really depends on what the issue is. The worst by far for me was when I was in a severe amount of abdominal pain. Seven hours later, I had gone through three rounds of blood work, an ultrasound, a CT scan, and an EKG. Other times, I simply had one test and was out within an hour or two. No matter what, they try to get these done as quickly as possible, but there can be a long wait even when you are in a room.

Leaving the ER: Once the doctor has the results, he or she will either order more tests or, if they’ve found a diagnosis, will get you the right medication or care. Remember that the ERs are for acute care (for sudden and often moderate to severe issues). I’ve always left the ER with a prescription for pain medication or other temporary treatment, with the direction to follow-up with my doctor as soon as possible. Usually, once the major issue is solved, my regular doctors are able to get a better idea of what is wrong and find a long-term solution so that I can avoid acute issues down the road.

If the condition is serious enough, it may warrant admittance to the hospital. I’ve been admitted three times in my life: once right after an emergency surgery, and twice when I spent six days in the hospital before solutions were found and solved by surgeries. Those were expensive, scary, and extreme cases, and I am definitely an exception to the rule: in reality, only about 13% of ER visits result in hospital admissions. Likely, admittance would occur for something like heart trouble, breathing issues that can’t be resolved, severe pain that can’t be managed, dangerous blood pressure, or serious infections. Hospital admissions are expensive and the beds are in high demand, so it requires sound medical necessity. However, if a doctor wants you to be admitted, know that it is in your best interest and they will aim to have you better as soon as possible. It’s always been worth it for me!

Otherwise, it’s back home you go! You will be discharged by your nurse, which, like everything else, can take anywhere from ten minutes to an hour, in my experience. Discharging includes home care instructions, information on your diagnosis, and any prescriptions you might need. Be sure to also request records of any tests you received, so that you can show them to your primary doctor and have them added to your medical file.

ERs are overwhelming places. Sometimes fear of them will keep people from going at all. However, if it could be a medical emergency, you need to make sure you get it checked. It’s never silly to go if you are unsure of a severe pain or of a mystery symptom that concerns you, especially if your doctor is unreachable. And if it’s a critical emergency, never hesitate to call 911 and get an ambulance, as it is always the safest and fastest way to get to the nearest hospital. I’ve arrived at the hospital by ambulance and by my own transportation: sometimes, it was out of my control entirely as I wasn’t the one calling the shots, but other times when I could make my own decisions, I never hesitated to go by ambulance if it was my best bet. Don’t be afraid to call one, despite the possible expense, because it can make all the difference in your situation—some counties even cover the cost of an ambulance for this very reason (mine does!).

Hopefully, you will never need this advice. But if one day you do, you now know how to be prepared and make it just a little bit easier.

Home

Suing Your Landlord (aka Beating The Man: Part II)

October 18, 2013 Alyssa Kurtzman Leave a comment

We’ve all experienced a landlord, employer, contractor, etc., who has not held up their end of a bargain—withholding money from you simply because there’s no real incentive to pay. It’s frustrating, and once you’ve exhausted the VERY PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE EMAILS, there’s not much to do besides take legal action, which can seem more daunting than it’s worth. But if you have the stamina and sufficient proof for it, and especially if you have an ongoing Beating the Man blog series, suing someone is a surprisingly navigable—and if I may say so, awfully satisfying— adventure.

Let me begin by saying that I adored my wonderful little tenement apartment in the Lower East Side since early 2009 when I (and UE contributor Emmy Yu) moved in. It was a tiny place with a huge private patio, on what is arguably the best block in Manhattan, not that I’m biased. My long-term plan was for my boyfriend to move in with me, turning the two-bedroom into a one-bedroom with a living room. Then we would live there probably forever, eventually befriending the owner and quietly purchasing the entire 5-story building from him/her for a scandalously low rate.

In December of 2012, my building was sold and my dream along with it: the new management company told me they were going to raise my rent $850 (36%) per month, and no, they wouldn’t budge on that. This is legal, by the way, if you live in a non-rent-controlled or rent-stabilized apartment in New York, and the raise remains below the designated market rate.

I made preparations to move out and got my things in order, including taking care of some shady “late fees” amounting to $770 that had been thrown onto my account. This is something the former landlord used to do for kicks—a few hundred dollars would accumulate on my bill, then I would call them to protest and they would quickly say “Oops!,” tossing their hair impishly (I imagined), then drop the charges. But because the old management company was pretty much checked out in anticipation of the sell, I couldn’t reach anyone regarding the bogus charges—known as arrears in real estate-speak—and when the building was sold, my arrears were transferred to the new management company without any documentation (because there wasn’t any to begin with).

A months-long series of conversations and emails of bank statements (to prove rent payment) with a representative from the new management company ended with her CFO not budging on returning the $770, and it was withheld from the security deposit that they finally sent me. “Looks like I’ll be taking you guys to court,” I said, without any idea what that really entailed. “My boss says ‘go right ahead,’” responded the rep. Not wanting to back down, I was determined to follow through on whatever it was I had just threatened to do. So I did what any grown-up would do: I Googled “suing someone.”

My reliable friend the Internet led me to this helpful site, about filing small claims suits in New York State. I planned to go to the District Court on Canal Street one morning before work, but the night before I intended to file, I discovered some fine print on the District Court site that said I had to file in the county of the defendant. And since the company is based out of Great Neck, NY, that meant filing in the Nassau County court…. in Hempstead, NY. I realized then why the CFO had called my bluff. This was much farther than Canal Street.

Not to be intimidated by inconvenience, I woke up around 6:00 the next morning and headed to the train station, where I hopped on an hour-long Long Island Railroad train to Hempstead and walked to the District Court building from the station. I made sure to save all of my travel receipts so I could amend the final amount on my court date (which you can do, or at least request, on the day of). Inside, at the small claims office, they handed me a very basic form to file a small claims (under $5000) complaint. I handed it back, paid the $15 filing fee, and was assigned a court date for about a month later. Easy peasy. I walked back to the station, jumped on a train back to the city, and headed to work.

My court date was ultimately pushed back another month when I realized that I should have included the LLC associated with my particular building in addition to the management company. Typically, when you mail a rent check, it’s to the LLC for your particular building and not to the larger management company that handles the buildings it owns. That way, it’s easier for the larger company to avoid liability (“We didn’t know! We don’t deal with individual tenants!”). I was able to amend the complaint over the phone and the small claims office pushed the date back so they could send an updated summons to the now-two defendants.

I called my aunt and uncle (both lawyers) to ask their advice regarding court and to gauge my chances. They told me that New York courts tended to be tenant-friendly, but I should bring everything just in case. And fortunately, having inherited the hoarding gene, I had everything: the original lease from 2009 (detailing the late policy), the original inspection form, proof of every rent payment in the form of bank statements, and photos of the apartment, in addition to every email correspondence I’d had with the evil management company.

On the day of the court appearance, I brought my small mountain of documentation with me on the train, and I showed up at 9:00 for my 9:30 summons. From the crowd of people milling around a signup sheet outside my assigned courtroom, I gathered that there were about 30 cases all scheduled for that morning. I took note of the number listed next to my name and grabbed a seat in the courtroom, which looked pretty much like a conventional courtroom: 10 or so rows of benches, a long desk in the front, and a judge’s stand behind that. I realized then that the people filling the seats in all those Law & Order court scenes are just pending plaintiffs and defendants, listening patiently to Detective Benson’s gallant summations until their turn to see the judge. I looked around for my defendant.

A clerk took attendance by number. If the defendant and plaintiff were both present, he sent them down to a mediation room, where an arbitrator would help them come to a settlement. If both sides couldn’t come to a settlement, then the case would be sent back up to the judge to decide after each pled their case. When the clerk called my number, I raised my hand, but no one from the management company was there, so he pushed my case to “second call” and moved down the list. I had an in-case-of-boredom novel I brought open in front of me, but hardly glanced at it; there’s something bizarrely intriguing about hearing the various disputes people have with each other. The clerk was patient but clearly trying to move as briskly as possible through the cases, occasionally (to my suppressed glee) sniping at someone for talking out of turn or not answering his question properly.

He assured us that we would go through the second call before having to sit through trials of failed mediations. This meant that if a rep from the management company didn’t show up by the time my case was called again, the case would be called an “inquest” and the judgment would be defaulted to me provided that I could prove the amount owed. Sure enough, my name came around again and no one had showed up. I can’t say that I wasn’t a little disappointed not to open a can of dossier whoop-ass, but I would get a chance to present to the judge nonetheless. I handed the clerk a paystub listing the arrear amount, which he passed up to the judge. Because they were trying to get through all the inquests before the lunch break, neither inquired any further into my case or asked for any additional proof. So I wasn’t sure how understanding they would be, especially because I didn’t get a chance to really explain my case, but when the clerk handed me an envelope to self-address for the judgment, he commented, “You have a lot of enthusiasm, young lady.”

A week later, I received a judgment in my favor for the full amount, plus interest and travel fees, and I did a little jig. But it would be another month before I actually saw any money. The company tried to delay paying me in every way possible; first telling me they were trying to reschedule the hearing because their rep had to go to a funeral, and then just flat-out ignoring my calls. Too stingy to hire a marshal, I conjured up that ingrained skill of all youngest children—the great power to annoy. I began calling about once an hour every day, often repeatedly until I could hear the gratifying click of them manually hanging up on me. It took them a week to realize that they would rather pay $800 than deal with me any longer, and when they did, a check appeared in the mail.

… And you can, too! By now, you’ve realized that anyone with Internet access and the willingness to be a total thorn can file a suit if they feel financially wronged. I highly recommend it, as nothing feels better than sweet, sweet justice, except maybe depositing an $800 check. Here’s some advice if you do take action against a company: Save everything— receipts, forms, leases, take-out napkins. Be vigilant. Be very, very, very, very irritating. Bullshit your way to the finish line (everything is Googleable), and remember that confidence—even if preemptive—will help sway the powers that be onto your side. And always bring a book.

Stay tuned for the next installment of “Beating The Man,” in which I try to sneak into the bathroom at The Four Seasons.* Succeed… or die!!

*JK

Travel

Rob Me

October 16, 2013 Kyle Martirez-McIntosh Leave a comment

There are certain aspects of my life where I’ve been pretty lucky. I’ve managed never to break a bone or have a cavity, I went to a great university despite being an unapologetically lackluster student in high school, and hell, today I flew cross-country for a job interview only to find myself in the TSA screening line behind the very person I was traveling to meet. But there is one place that luck seems to elude me (and it’s not my dating life, for those of you who read this site regularly)—it’s that people love to mug me.

Photo by Meaghan Morrison

That is not a statement you can write if you’ve only been mugged once. I’ve been pickpocketed in Manila, held at knifepoint in New York, and punched out in both Baltimore and Los Angeles. Having been mugged or otherwise robbed four times means, clearly, I’m doing something wrong. Word to the wise: if you don’t want to get your ass kicked and become intimately familiar with the practice of replacing the entire contents of your wallet, don’t be named Kyle. I hear that works pretty well.

MANILA

The Philippines, beautiful as it may be, is insanely dangerous. In the south, there are al Qaeda–affiliated terrorist groups who like to kidnap tourists; in the north, there was a military coup three weeks after I left town. Before college I was there visiting my great-uncle, and near the end of my trip he pulled me aside and told me I needed to “truly experience Manila.” My options were to go with him to a brothel so he could “make sure I left as a man,” or to go see what is regarded as a cultural hallmark of the Philippines, a cockfight. Telling my girlfriend back home that “it’s not cheating because my uncle made me do it” was not a thing I wanted try, so I figured watching chickens fight to the death was slightly safer.

We were dropped off at what can only be described as the shadiest arena ever built: this place looked like a dilapidated tennis stadium coated in a centuries worth of grime and chicken shit. Inside, all the seats had been removed and a crowd of nearly a thousand men (no women allowed) surrounded a fighting pit the size of a boxing ring. About halfway through the third bout, I felt something rubbing against me and looked down to see a hand stealthily trying to slip my wallet out of my pocket.

Looking back, I realize I made a few mistakes: aside from going to what is without a doubt the most dangerous place I’ve ever been in my life, the bigger mistake was the spectacle my uncle and I made upon our entrance. Two people getting out of a chauffeured car and leaving a bodyguard at the door is a bit conspicuous. Add in the fact that I’m a head taller and significantly paler than the rest of the crowd, and it starts to make a little sense why I was targeted. When traveling, it’s wonderful to get a true sense of the local culture, but if you stray from traditional tourist destinations, be careful not to bring the tourist vibe with you. There is something to be said for the theory that you’re safer when you blend in with the herd.

NEW YORK

In the fall of my first semester at NYU, the oppressive summer heat had started to give way to the welcome crispness of autumn, and it felt like a great day for a walk around my new city. There I was, minding my own business, listening to a mixtape from my then long distance girlfriend (yes, the same one I didn’t want to piss off in Manila), when a guy started yelling at me that I had bumped into him and broken some glassware he’d just bought.

I can be oblivious at times, but even in my own world listening to some awful Feist mashup that I thought captured the depth and complexity of “love” at age 18, I was fucking positive that I wasn’t responsible for the random shards of glass that this guy was claiming I broke. I protested, and that’s when he got more aggressive and flashed a knife at me. Bear in mind: this is mid-afternoon on 14^th Street, and somehow I happened to be on the one block that was completely deserted. For those of you not familiar with Manhattan, finding a deserted stretch of 14^th Street at any hour is like winning the lottery three weeks in a row—except, instead of becoming a millionaire, I lost the money I’d intended to use on a fake ID.

The lesson was to not fight it. At the end of the day, nobody robbing you really wants to hurt you: it’s just an intimidation tactic. While it sucks, giving up a little cash is the easiest way to ensure you stay safe and get the whole process over more quickly. That being said, if you plan on walking or taking public transit a lot in a major city, it’s best not to carry large amounts of cash on you. Most places take cards nowadays and paying a few extra ATM fees is better than getting stabbed or losing a hundred bucks in one fell swoop.

LOS ANGELES/BALTIMORE

One of the dumber things I’ve failed to learn in my life is that bad neighborhoods are bad neighborhoods for a reason. That’s not meant to seem like this privileged half-white kid from Malibu is afraid of minorities (after all, I am one); it’s more to point out that walking down a block filled with burned-out buildings in a sketchy part of Baltimore or trying to score some tacos at 3 am in a park known for LA’s May Day Melée is probably a really stupid idea.

Both of these instances have one major thing in common—drinking. An analysis of my drinking habits would likely necessitate another article, or bloat this current one past a length my editors would be willing to publish, but the thing to glean from this is that having one too many makes you an easy target. When sober, I’m pretty vigilant, but while drinking (and I don’t think I’m alone in this) I tend to get a little more reckless. Typically, this means I make ill-advised decisions with my phone or possibly earn some “constructive criticism,” but other times it means I go to iffy areas and mistakenly think everything will work out fine.

The easiest way not to get mugged is to not put yourself in a spot where that is likely to happen. If you wouldn’t go to a place during the daytime, you certainly shouldn’t go there at night, especially alone. Exploring new neighborhoods is often exciting, but what might be intended as a night of edgy fun can quickly take a turn from hipsterrific-dream to manic-pixie-nightmare. If you’re going to an unfamiliar place, don’t make it even less familiar by over imbibing. Nothing screams “rob me” like a drunk person who won’t remember the street corner they’re on in the morning, let alone their mugger’s face.

The brutal reality is that if you live in a highly concentrated urban area, you have to deal with the dangers that come with it. There’s nothing I can impart in this article that will ensure you never get mugged. While the act itself does feel violating, the key is to remember it could be worse: if you manage to get out unscathed physically, it’s a win. Usually nothing in your wallet or purse is irreplaceable, and it certainly isn’t worth putting yourself in danger. For those of us who feel that inexplicable draw of the big city, a hefty dose of common sense and responsibility goes a long way. And if that fails, just avoid hanging out with me at night.

Brainfood

Help Me Understand: The Government Shutdown

October 14, 2013 Remi Coin 1 Comment

The government’s shut down (well, sort of). From politicians to pundits, everyone’s squawking, but no one is doing a particularly good job explaining what the heck actually happened. I hear “continuing resolution” and “debt ceiling” being thrown around, and apparently they’re not the same thing? I took American Gov and I paid attention, but this thing is just a mess.

Photo by Elise Walsh

In my attempt to be a decent citizen, I figured educating myself was the least I could do.

The Plan

GOP conservatives never liked Obamacare, so they held a meeting shortly after Obama was elected for a second term to see what they could do about it. Led by former Attorney General Edwin Meese III, he and other high-profile conservative leaders signed a coalition letter declaring their intent to defund Obamacare before it was “too late.”

This plan finally came into effect on Friday, September 20^th, when the House, led by Speaker John Boehner, voted for a “continuing resolution” (more on this in a minute) that included a provision to eliminate all financing for the Affordable Care Act (Obamacare’s legal name). A couple days later while the bill moved through the Senate, we got to hear Republican Senator Ted Cruz talk for 21 hours and 19 minutes about how Obamacare “takes our freedom away,” with some side anecdotes about White Castle burgers and Dr. Seuss’ Green Eggs and Ham. Then, a week after the House vote, the Senate having “considered” the bill, threw it back to the House with the defunding provision removed.

They went back and forth a couple more times, the House tacking on a defunding measure, the Senate sending it back without the defunding measure, and then it was October 1^st, and the government shut down.

So what’s a continuing resolution and why is it important?

A Continuing Resolution

While it’s the President’s job to submit a budget proposal by the first Monday in February, it’s up to Congress to actually agree upon said budget and then spend the money. Theoretically, each year both houses must pass a dozen appropriations bills by October 1^st that the President agrees to sign.

But this is Congress we’re talking about and it’s hard to agree on things, so a continuing resolution basically allows the government to keep funding its departments, agencies, and programs for a limited time in the amount that was already agreed upon from the previous budget. This way, representatives can work out their differences and pass a “real” spending bill. It’s kind of like two-step verification: Congress has to vote on the budget and agree to spend $620 million dollars on the Department of Defense, but then in order for the DoD employee’s (AKA most of the military) to actually get paid, Congress needs to specifically “appropriate” the funds. And just to give you some perspective: Congress hasn’t passed a balanced budget since 2001. We’ve had almost 50 CRs since then.

There are those hoping that the House will pass a “clean” CR—which essentially means a continuing resolution without an added policy change (like the provision defunding Obamacare)—but I’m not gonna hold my breath.

So, then what the heck is the debt ceiling and why does it feel like the same thing? Well, it turns out that it’s just one big coincidence and some really bad luck that our current budget expires on October 1^st and we will hit the debt ceiling on October 17th.

The Debt Ceiling

The debt ceiling (or the debt limit) is basically a cap on the amount of money issued by the Treasury. First used in 1917, the idea was that a limit would help keep the President accountable for the money he spent (which in practice may not be true.) Raising the debt ceiling simply allows the government to borrow money from itself to pay for the things it’s already bought.

The key thing to remember is that the government has already spent the money. It’s like having a $200 credit card bill and only $187 in your bank account. The government gets to borrow the extra $13 dollars from itself by “raising” the debt ceiling. If we default (AKA we don’t raise it), it means we’re not paying our bills.

But this should not be confused with the budget deficit: the budget deficit subtracts the cost of running a country from the revenues it brings in each year. In 2013, the government spent $3.803 trillion, but only made $2.902 trillion leaving us a deficit of $901 billion. Our nation’s debt takes into account the previous deficits, which currently amounts to about $16.7 trillion.

To Sum Up

The GOP wanted to take a stand against Obamacare and, according to New York Magazine, they were originally going to do this with the debt ceiling, but switched gears after Ted Cruz’s stunt and went from threatening a default to shutting down the government instead. The government is shut down (which costs money) because the House and the Senate could not pass a continuing resolution and this display of “non-bipartisanship” has, thanks to bad timing, put us on the precipice of defaulting as well.

And that, my friends, is politics.

Extra Credit: While January 1^st used to be the beginning of each fiscal year, in 1842 for reasons unknown, they changed it to July 1^st, a date that was again moved in 1974 to our current due date of October 1^st.

Health

My Emergency Pap Smear

October 11, 2013 Anonymous Leave a comment

Pap smears suck. It’s ingrained in women from the time they even hear such a thing exists. “They’re gonna do what, to that?!” Admittedly, I put off getting my first one done for a long time; I figured I’d think about it when I became sexually active. But, then again, I wasn’t quite expecting that my first one would be in the ER.

Photo by Meaghan Morrison

One day during the summer a few years ago, I had come down with really bad abdominal pain on the right side. Like excruciatingly bad. It felt like someone stabbing my ovary from the inside. Based on location, I figured it was some kind of “female issue,” so I went home, took to my bed with a heating pad, and popped a couple Advil. Thankfully it went away after a few hours. Just in case, I still called my local hospital’s advice nurse the next day and, after being asked in six different ways if I could be pregnant (“Not unless it was an immaculate conception.”), she said it was most likely an ovarian cyst. She instructed me to go to the ER if the pain came back, in case she was wrong or it burst. I didn’t bother making an OB/GYN appointment and the pain stayed away, so I assumed the cyst had shrunk on its own.

A few months later I woke up to the exact same excruciating pain. This time it wouldn’t go away so my poor dad—being the only other person home—drove me to the ER. After much waiting (the usual ER fun) and not one, but two different nurses going “OMG, you’ve never had sex! Never?!” (thankfully my dad was in the waiting room), I got to see the doctor. A male, of course. He proceeded to poke and prod the painful area, “Does this hurt, how about here, what if I do this?” Um, yes to all of the above!

I don’t remember the exact order of events but he did an ultrasound and at some point decided I needed a pelvic exam (because obviously all the poking on the outside of my abdomen wasn’t enough). Cue the remaining nurse gawking at me, saying “OMG, you’ve never had a pap smear?!” Yes, thanks a lot, lady. But then she did take it down a notch and attempted to comfort me by saying it wasn’t a big deal, I was actually the right age to get my first one. So the sadist doctor proceeded to poke around from literally both angles, which hurt much more than just poking on the outside. Between that and the slightly terrifying-looking black spot that showed up on my ovary during the ultrasound, he determined that it was a cyst. But, just in case, he decided that he still should do an actual pap smear. Best part? His attempt at consolation: “Well at least down here we use the plastic tools, they’re much better than the metal ones the OBs have!” Really?! How does he know what is more comfortable down there?

Luckily, the actual pap smear itself was quick and easy (after you’ve had a cyst poked at from all sides, everything is easy). I left with a prescription for painkillers and, oh joy, an appointment with an actual OB/GYN for yet another pap smear a week later. Fortunately, the cyst shrank significantly in that week. I found out later that when cysts don’t shrink on their own, they can burst and/or surgery is needed.

My second pap smear was as fine as a pap smear can be, I suppose. And here’s a fun fact: metal and plastic tools feel pretty much the same (or at least, to me they did!). I haven’t had a cyst since my gynecologist prescribed birth control, and hopefully won’t ever need another emergency room pap smear. But the one good thing that came from this experience? Pap smears no longer intimidate me. Take that, obstetrics!

Career

The Job I Love & the Job I Lust

October 9, 2013 Meggyn Watkins 1 Comment

I love my 8-to-5. Seriously! I work at one of the coolest companies in California, and my coworkers are hilarious, genuine, brilliant people. I’ve been nothing short than excited and thrilled to be going steady with my job (even though it didn’t get me flowers or chocolate on our recent anniversary). I can’t believe how lucky I am to be 23 and recently graduated with such a great place to work every weekday.

Photo by Andy Sutterfield

But I’m having an affair on the side.

It started with wandering eyes; a dangling participle would catch my gaze and pique my interest, a misplaced comma could so easily distract and entice me. Editing has always been my passion and, without my fix, I start to go into withdrawal. My obsession with grammar was born from my love of organization, mathematics, and rules—the sheer act of breaking down something as complex and nebulous as language and literature practically makes my mouth water. It’s like math with words!

When I started my day job, however, I was not tasked with meticulously grooming the text in a document but rather shaping its look and feel instead. This focus on document design has taught me so much in the areas of layout and graphic design (an area I’d previously only dabbled in, buried somewhere in an elective I took for my degree). But while my design skills flourished, my editing chops lagged, and I found myself missing semicolons and subordinate clauses.

And then I found the UNDERenlightened.

Our editor-in-chief, Anastasia, recently published an article chronicling our pitfalls and successes since we started operating UE a year ago. She was a complete stranger to me back then: a friend-of-a-friend who was cashing in enough favors to get an idea off the ground. I emailed her and set up a phone interview, eventually signing away my evenings and weekends in order to get a hit of that sweet, sweet grammar.

My original commitment of editing one article a week instantly exploded when I stepped up to managing editor at the beginning of this year. Our editing team dwindled to two: I edited every article twice, with Anastasia doing a final read before posting. Thankfully, our staff is expanding once again (though we always love more help).

It’s a lot of work and even more time, but teaching myself the professional skills that I want is a priceless opportunity. I’ve maintained and improved my concrete skills: I haven’t forgotten the important bits from my grammar courses though I still have my textbooks handy (I wish the same could be said for my French minor), I’m developing my ability to edit for tone and content, and Anastasia has guilted me into writing more articles than I ever would have volunteered. I’ve also discovered some invaluable resources: for example, the Chicago Manual of Style allows a free trial, which is quote/unquote unlimited (as long as you don’t mind making tons of fake email addresses—I’ll pay for a real subscription eventually, I swear!).

When my friends complain about their struggle to find fulfillment at work, I ask them why they don’t just make opportunity for themselves. However, I realize how tough that can be. I have to remind myself that my schedule is not for everyone: it is literally a job on top of a job. But if you’re committed to learning a new craft, I believe that you will make the time, even if you’re not a self-admitted workaholic like I am.

I’m incredibly lucky to have this outlet for my passions. I have the benefit of a day job that supports me enough to devote my evenings and weekends to editing. I even have family, friends, and strangers on the Internet who help this blog run, allowing me to fulfill my personal interests.

For now, I get to keep both the job I lust and the job I love. It’s exasperating sometimes, but it leaves me energized and optimistic for the future. I am confident that I can sow the seeds of personal development now, and reap the rewards of a grammar-filled 8-to-5 at a great company later.

Food, Money

Food on the Cheap

October 7, 2013 Theresa Dee Leave a comment

Once upon a time, I made a rash, but good, decision. I decided that I really wanted to live near my university instead of commuting four hours every day. But, I also knew that getting a job there would be hard without a local address. So, I did the fairly irrational thing: I moved there without having a job lined up. I had enough savings to pay my rent for a few months—except, oops, I totally forgot to budget for the other costs of living! Like food.

Photo by Sara Slattery

Food is kind of a big deal so I did some research, looked at basic nutrition, and then bought what was the cheapest. This was not at the “nice” grocery store with the nut bar and open bins of nutritional yeast and gluten-free oatmeal. This was at Grocery Outlet or Food Maxx. This was the “ethnic” Mexican, Vietnamese, or Indian market. This was the last half hour of the farmer’s market when the person behind the table wants to get rid of the last bag of oranges.

I took a notebook with me and, over a couple of shopping trips, saw what was cheapest and weighed that against my personal needs. For example, I find large grocery stores very overwhelming, so I get some stuff at Trader Joe’s that is the same price almost everywhere: milk, eggs, butter, bread, frozen vegetables—even organics, if I wanted them. I’m not including prices because they vary widely, and the best thing to do is compare prices at whatever is local to you!

In an attempt to balance my nutrition, I tried to have a carb, protein, and vegetable or fruit with every meal. For breakfast: hot rice pudding and fruit, or toast and an egg with frozen sautéed spinach, or just some oatmeal and brown sugar if I was feeling especially lazy. The oatmeal packets at the store are ridiculously easy to recreate. Lunch or dinner was maybe Spanish rice (rice, spices, canned tomatoes) and bean tacos, lentil and rice soup, black bean burgers, homemade French fries, pudlas, or stir-fry.

The Staples for a Cheap Kitchen

When I was living on the cheap, I filled my pantry with basic staples in bulk because they will spoil the slowest!

Dry rice
Dry lentils
Dry beans
Other dried goods (oats, bulgur, etc.)
Large bagged spices

I found that the following brought a lot more variety into my meals, so I bought as much as half my freezer and cupboards could hold! Discount and bulk stores, for the win!

Flour
White/Brown Sugar
Pasta
Potatoes
Frozen, dried or canned fruit and vegetables
Olive oil for cooking
Bouillon Cubes
Tofu
Eggs

Since we all have our own preferences and dietary restrictions, don’t feel limited because you can’t follow my examples above. There are a lot of cheap alternatives for you to consider when stocking your own cheap kitchen:

Bulk Tea (instead of soda)
Corn Tortillas (instead of flour tortillas)
Bread ($2 for 12 servings!)
Fresh vegetables (when in season!)
Coffee (because everything is cheaper than Starbucks)
Mozzarella and Feta (the cheapest cheese I’ve seen)
Bacon Ends or Ham Hocks (great for flavoring soups and stews)
Meat and Fish on sale (throw it in the freezer if it is about to expire!)

Did you notice what’s not on here? I considered dairy, meat, and pre-processed foods “special items” because, when comparing price-per-ounce, they were way more expensive than other protein and carb sources like beans, rice, flour, and frozen/canned produce. Except for the occasional cheese wedge or free pizza, I didn’t see a lot of meat or dairy. It’s weird, but I was so into making affordable stuff actually taste good that I didn’t even miss meat. The key to cooking deliciously on the cheap is spices, spices, spices. I experimented with what I liked and started to add it to everything!

All this dried food requires a lot of cooking. I learned that it’s best to soak beans overnight to soften them, lessen gastrointestinal issues, and decrease cooking time! I just put some beans in a bowl, cover with water, and let them sit overnight. The next day, simmer until soft. I then discovered that it’s prudent to invest in a rice cooker if you like rice, and a crockpot if you hate standing over a stove. These meals usually come out to be cheaper per serving than frozen or boxed meals, and way more nutritious. It makes sense to try to safeguard your health when you can, because hospital bills in the future are definitely not frugal!

If you do like farmers’ markets, vendors usually lower their prices or are much more willing to haggle during the last half hour. They often don’t have long-term storage for their produce, so it’s better for them to get rid of it before it spoils. If you can pick from multiple markets, try them all, especially the ones in the less swanky parts of town: honestly, I’ve found the prices are much better there. I’ve seen the same vendors at multiple locations, and their lowest prices are usually in cities and more working-class parts of town, not the suburbs or the ladies-who-brunch neighborhoods.

I hope this article gives you some insight into eating cheaply without resorting to McDonald’s and Top Ramen! Some great resources with tips and recipes I’ve found include Budget Bytes, Broke Ass Gourmet, and Poor Girl Eats Well. If you’ve got any of your own suggestion, share them in the comments. Bon appétit!

Career

Defending a Liberal Arts Degree

September 27, 2013 Lily Henderson Leave a comment

A few years ago, I was at a party for my mom’s work. I was chatting with one of her coworkers when my recent graduation came up.

Photo by Michael Cox

“Well, what did you major in?” her coworker asked.

“Linguistics!” I said, perky as can be, proud of my hard work.

“What will you be doing with that? Waitressing?”

What a jerk, right? Apparently not. I soon learned this soul-crushing kind of snark is pretty widespread: a classmate of mine once had someone turn to him shortly after graduation and say, “Know how to get an English major off your doorstep? Pay him for your pizza.” Ugh, makes my heart sink.

There exists a fairly common belief, for some reason, that a humanities or liberal arts degree can’t get you anywhere. People often struggle to defend the degree. Many say that it’s worth it because the humanities are “mostly about finding yourself.” However, in my opinion, “finding yourself” is a tough justification for that insanely expensive college tuition. If you really want to find yourself, you can travel, join WWOOF (Willing Workers on Organic Farms), volunteer, or really do anything that allows you to interact with a wide range of different people. You’ll still be faced with situations that force you to grow emotionally and cognitively. However, if you want the added bonus of concrete skills and the college education to attract top-tier employers, a humanities or liberal arts degree could be a better fit: the advantages are worth the expense and time commitment of college. I currently work at a large, urban public institution, encouraging students to consider Linguistics, English and Philosophy as beneficial, lucrative areas of study, and these are the reasons I give them when they ask if it’s really worth it.

In the vast majority of classes one can take as a liberal arts major, there are several key questions that are constantly asked:

“Why does this matter?”

“Is this truth?”

“How does this actually work?”

“What are the layers of meaning?”

“What is this consciously trying to tell us, and what does it tell us unintentionally?”

Getting into the habit of asking those questions can make you a really valuable asset in any job because you have the ability to suss out how to prioritize, how you fit into an organization, and ways you can use your role to improve processes and relationships. Following through with the answers will make you a more efficient and impressive worker. Asking these questions before you’re asked to do so is super valuable. You then make intentional choices about how you want to interact with the world, and you understand how your choices affect not only yourself, but also the people around you.

In order to succeed in the humanities, the papers I wrote—and I wrote a lot of papers—were not about reporting the facts but about convincing the reader that my point of view held water. This means I had to learn to carefully gather my information, and present it in a coherent and digestible way. You will need to do this in every job you have: being able to do it well will impress your supervisors, but more importantly, it will make it easier for you to articulate what you want to do. As a result, you can achieve your goals more easily.

Because a liberal arts degree requires you to learn about a wide range of topics, you will likely end up being well-versed in a lot of different areas. This makes you an asset because you can connect with a wide range of people, you can speak articulately about a lot of different things, and (most of all) you can easily learn about things that you don’t already know about. If you need to build a new skill for work, the tools to do so are already in place! Learning how to learn is an oft-used catchphrase for liberal arts, but it’s the real deal.

College is about your ability to make more money and do more challenging or interesting things over the course of your life, not in the first job you get. Yes, it may be harder to find your first job if you major in the humanities (unless you use your career center at school, which alumni are also able to use for free and network like hell), but over the course of your life, you are in a better position to make interesting career choices and are more likely to continue on to graduate education. You have the training to think critically about what you want and the contribution you are making to the world. Many of the critics who say that humanities majors can’t find jobs are flawed because they only look at data from students’ first jobs, not at the arc of their career. When longitudinal studies are done, it’s clear that liberal arts and humanities majors have more varied career paths, and make the same amount of money as or more than business and STEM majors 15 years out from their degree. In fact, a huge amount of the talk in the media about the struggling humanities is due to the fact that it is incredibly difficult to measure the success of anyone, let alone people who studied a particular field. There are too many variables, and not enough data, to even do things like measure the change in enrollments of a field. So, then, take the hysteria around how “no one can make it” with a pretty serious grain of salt.

Most likely, if you studied something in the humanities or liberal arts, you did it because you loved it. Goodness knows, it wasn’t because you wanted to come up with snide and snappy answers to “Why would you care about that?” When you have a genuine desire to learn, you pore through more books, ask more questions, are more likely to be BFFs with your profs, and ultimately, get more out of your studies. All the skills you acquired are magnified because you were honing them in an environment that brought you joy.

It’s important to think about your humanities degree as a springboard for the rest of your life. So boo to all the naysayers. If you love the humanities, they are worthwhile to study. Whether you dug deep in your early modern literary studies, investigating gender portrayals in botanical novels or, like me, you spent your undergrad career looking at miniscule acoustic differences in vowel systems and their development, flaunt it. It was, is and always will be worth it.

Sex

The First Time I Ever Had to Buy Condoms

September 25, 2013 Liz Kerin 2 Comments

Let me tell you people, it was terrifying. I was seventeen years old, in high school, giving myself the pep talk of a lifetime as I sat in the parking lot of the CVS in the next town over. (Obviously, I wouldn’t dare make this purchase in my hometown, where a humiliating encounter with an über-gossipy friend-of-the-family was way too risky.) I had driven an extra twenty minutes out of my way just for this purpose. Just to buy condoms. For the first time ever. Holy good god.

I so wish the purchase of protection wasn’t such a humiliating process, especially for teenagers. What’s worse: buying condoms, or not using them at all? We shouldn’t have to ask ourselves that question! It has an easy answer. But here in the United States of Slut Shaming, a stroll to the CVS to buy condoms can feel like a long walk to the gallows in an old Western movie. And that’s not even exclusive to teenagers! I still feel that way, every time I have to do it, and I’m (mostly kind of) a grown woman.

That afternoon, I felt as though everybody’s eyes were glued on me as I finally mustered up the courage to get out of the car, walk through the door, and head to the “Family Planning” aisle. I told myself that if I wanted to do the deed, then this came with the territory. But when I got to the section where the condoms were stocked, a horrible surprise met my eyes: THEY WERE LOCKED IN A GODDAMN CASE. I would have to ask somebody to open it up for me! Apparently, a lot of pharmacies do this. Several years after this particular ordeal, I casually asked a pharmacist why the condoms were sometimes locked up. She explained that it was because they often had a problem with teenagers stealing them. Well, obviously they’re stealing the condoms! Our culture has made it humiliating to purchase them! It’s a vicious, awful, slut-shaming cycle.

So there I was, deer-in-headlights in the family planning aisle. I knew I had to get out of there fast before somebody tried to make eye contact with me. I’d have to formulate a plan. I also realized, at that moment, that I would need to purchase additional items. God forbid I give the cashier the impression that I’d come to CVS just for this very special, sexy occasion.

I stormed through the store, filling my basket with sunblock, deodorant, a diet coke, and a pair of socks. I needed none of these items. I only needed one item: the one I had yet to put in my basket. But I felt spending the extra cash would be worth it for the sake of my fragile, fragile pride. I feel it’s important to mention that I still do this, every single time I need to buy me some rubbers. It’s always hidden among several unnecessary items in my basket, lest I be judged.

Finally, it was time to re-approach that evil, monstrous locked case. I walked by it, eyes narrowed—Fine, bitch. Let’s dance. But my courage pretty much drained out of my every pore the second I timidly approached the pharmacy counter. My conversation with the (thankfully, female) pharmacist went a little something like this:

Me: “Hey. So. There’s this… locked case. Over there.”

Her: Silence

Me: “I was wondering if you had a key for it.”

Her: “Locked case of what?”

Me: (really, woman?!) “Uh… condoms.”

Her: “Okay. I don’t have the key. Jose does. Hang on.”

Me: (completely re-thinking all of this now) “No, no, it’s okay, wait—”

Her: (picks up the goddamn intercom) “Jose! Can you bring the keys to family planning, please?”

Beet-red, I grumbled something that was probably meant to sound like “thank you” and awkwardly shuffled back towards the locked case. No turning back now. We’d come this far. Jose was on his way, after all.

Well, Jose took his sweet-ass time getting there, or at least it felt that way. Every minute was agonizing. Finally, he showed up with a key. He purposefully avoided eye contact with me, lest he be judged for judging me. Oh, what a tangled web! But I took some comfort in the idea that he was probably just as embarrassed as I was.

So, now the case was open—oh, boy. I waited a moment for Jose to walk away and let me do my thing, but he was still standing there, waiting to lock the case again when I was done. But I’d never bought these things before: I had no idea what I wanted! And all Jose wanted—and all I wanted—is for this to be over! NOW!

And so, I took the most logical action I could take: I swiped like… five different boxes. Without even looking at them. Just casually tossed them in. Ribbed, Her Pleasure, Ultra Thin… who the hell even knows. I would try ‘em all! I’d try ‘em all and never have to come back here again.

Squirming like a fish on a hook, I bolted towards the checkout line. I probably didn’t even thank poor, awkward Jose. My purchases totaled up to something like $75, which was way more cash than I had in my wallet. I had to charge it to my parents’ credit card, the one I was only supposed to use for gas and emergencies. But obviously this was a justifiable emergency, as long as they never saw the receipt, which I would conveniently lose as soon as possible.

My boyfriend at the time had a pretty good laugh once he saw the haul I was stashing, and I realized pretty quickly that I hated all of the textures. Every single one of them. I also realized that I was slightly allergic to latex. But that’s how you figure out what you can and can’t use: buy a bunch of different varieties. Despite the enormous price tag of the ordeal, I’m glad I tried several different brands. If you’re new to this, that’s the only way you will figure out what you enjoy. Every person’s body is different! And if you are indeed allergic to latex, a latex-free option does exist.

So if you’re about to embark on this journey for the first time, heed my warnings, but please go purchase your condoms regardless! Be prepared for a locked case. Purchase additional items if it puts you at ease (just don’t max out your credit card in the process). Bringing a friend might make you feel a lot more comfortable. I wish that I had! Or better yet, make your partner buy them! Or at least make him/her do it next time. After all, it takes two to tango. Or… y’know what? HAVE SEX. Enough with the euphemisms: they only contribute to the awkward slut-shaming of it all. If you’re about to go buy condoms for the first time, then you’re ready to confront not only your own sexuality, but also that wicked locked case in the family planning aisle. Be brave and go forth! It’ll be so worth it in the end!

Photo by Meaghan Morrison

Food

Adventures of an Aspiring Chef: The Produce Challenge

September 22, 2013 Anastasia Heuer 2 Comments

A couple months ago, I wrote an article about figuring out how to cook chicken. Since then, I’ve been challenging myself to become a better chef. This past month, the challenge was to purchase five produce items that I wouldn’t normally buy and figure out how to cook them:

a turnip
an eggplant
a spaghetti squash
a bag of Brussels sprouts
two pears

Let the games begin.

THE TURNIP

Okay, so first I’ll admit I didn’t cook the turnip. But I tried to! Do you know how hard it is to find good turnip recipes? I wasn’t in the mood for anything in the soup variety, anything involving mashing, or anything remotely close to fries, so I settled on a nice cheesy turnip gratin—which sounded delicious until I realized a modest-sized block of Gruyere cheese (only enough for this one recipe) was $12. Yes, I know good things cost money, but $12 worth of a cheese I don’t even know if I like? Suffice to say, the neglected white and purple ball of guilt is still sitting in my refrigerator… fine, I’ll get some Gruyere at the store tomorrow.

EGGPLANT PARMESAN

I’m pretty sure the only thing I’ve ever eaten with eggplant in it was eggplant parmesan. I figured that was a good place to start. I found this seemingly easy, highly rated recipe (two criteria I always look for) and got to work.

Ingredients:
AllRecipes.com	What I Used	My Commentary
3 eggplants, peeled & thinly sliced	1 eggplant, sliced	I probably should have peeled the eggplant, but I forgot I owned a vegetable peeler, and peeling without one… not so easy. I also didn’t “thinly” slice my eggplant, but I’ll be better about that next time. The thicker pieces didn’t cook as well and ended up being a bit tough and chewy.
2 eggs, beaten	2 eggs, beaten	I don’t know how this lady thought 2 eggs would cover 3 eggplants. I needed both just to coat my 1 eggplant. In the future, with even thinner slices—meaning more sides to coat—I will probably need 3.
4 cups Italian seasoned bread crumbs	A container of Italian seasoned bread crumbs.	Have enough to use “as needed.”
6 cups spaghetti sauce, divided	A jar of spaghetti sauce.	This is what “divided” means in cooking. I just poured from the jar, again, “as needed.” I ran out of sauce really quickly, though, so I probably should have used 2 jars.
1 (16 ounce) package mozzarella cheese, shredded and divided	A ball of mozzarella that was on sale at Ralph’s.	I think it was 16 ounces…
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided	Poured from my Costco jar of pre-grated Parmesan.	Clearly there is an “as needed” trend going on here.
1/2 teaspoon dried basil	…	Oops.

Directions:
AllRecipes.com	My Commentary
1. Preheat oven to 350°F.	To reduce potential bitterness, the comments suggested sweating the eggplant by sprinkling them with salt, letting them sit for 30 min, rinsing with cold water, and patting dry with a paper towel. I did none of this and did not notice, but I still might try it next time.
2. Dip eggplant slices in egg, then in bread crumbs. Place in a single layer on a baking sheet. Bake in preheated oven for 5 minutes on each side.	Add foil to your baking sheet for easy clean up. Bake for 10 minutes on each side, as suggested by the comments and my own experience.
3. In a 9×13 inch baking dish, spread spaghetti sauce to cover the bottom. Place a layer of eggplant slices in the sauce. Sprinkle with mozzarella and Parmesan cheeses. Repeat with remaining ingredients, ending with the cheeses. Sprinkle basil on top.	I did this until I ran out of sauce. Then I just kept layering eggplant and cheese, it all worked out in the end. Forgot about the basil, which might have been a nice touch.
4. Bake in preheated oven for 35 minutes, or until golden brown.	I had to bake mine for at least 45 minutes and most of the comments suggested something in the 40-60 minute range. Be your own judge of this. Undercooking might lead to tougher eggplant: I wish I had cooked mine even longer.

All in all, this turned out to be a success. I’d do it again with thinner slices and a longer baking time. I ended up serving it by itself with some salad, but next time I’d serve it over some plain spaghetti (which is what I did with the copious leftovers and it was delicious). The breaded eggplant was definitely the best part so now I’ve got big plans to make these breaded eggplant sticks with my next eggplant.

BROWN SUGARED ROASTED BRUSSELS SPROUTS

Emily Knight did a whole piece for UE on the excellence of Brussels sprouts. She also dazzled me with them in person a couple years ago and wrote up the recipe on her blog. I tried to replicate to her success with my bag of Brussels sprouts.

Ingredients:	Directions:
Brussels sprouts	1. Preheat the oven to 400°.
Olive oil	2. Prep the Brussels sprouts by cutting off the icky end bit, slicing them in half, and then rolling them around in a bowl with some olive oil.
Brown sugar	3. Sauté the Brussels sprouts for about 5 minutes with plenty of brown sugar and more oil so they can get soft and sweet.
	4. Spread the Brussels sprouts out on a baking tray and cook for 30 minutes.

This seemed so easy that I’m actually impressed that I screwed it up. See, when Emily said “plenty” of brown sugar, I channeled all my childhood memories of horrible boiled Brussels sprouts—and put in a copious amount of brown sugar. So much brown sugar, there was in fact a caramelized liquid to drizzle over the sprouts before I baked them. Sounds like a recipe for awesome, right? Not so much. Unfortunately, and I can’t believe sweets-loving me is saying this, this made them too sweet and not nearly as good as Emily’s. But this will definitely not be the last time I attempt this side dish.

SPAGHETTI SQUASH SPAGHETTI

I’d been intrigued by spaghetti squash since my neighbor first introduced me to it. As a lover of noodles, I’ll admit, I was a little skeptical. But after hearing several friends repeatedly rave about the dish, I was ready to give it a try.

Before you even get to making the spaghetti sauce, you must first “prep” the spaghetti squash:

Directions:

1. Cut the squash in half (AKA hack the shit out of this tough squash until it splits in half).

2. Remove the seeds / pulp. Pumpkin carving flashbacks are optional.

3. Douse with olive oil, salt, and paper and then turn flesh side down on a foil covered baking sheet and cook for 30-40 min at 450°F.

The “spaghetti” comes out like buttah when scraping it with a fork and has the consistency of angel hair noodles. I may have overly enjoyed this step, but noodles are being created from squash, it’s meant to be enjoyed.

Making the Sauce:

Spaghetti is one of the few things I’ve actually been able to cook for years, though it’s really not that hard when you are just cutting up vegetables and stirring in jarred tomato sauce. This time I decided to add ground beef, which I’d only ever cooked once before.

For anyone who, like me, feared ground beef, it’s actually even easier than chicken. I put some olive oil in a frying pan, added the garlic and onion first, gave them a minute or two, and then added the ground beef. Brown the ground beef (until you see no more pink) and add in the zucchini when it’s almost done. Continue cooking until you see no more pink in the meat, then add the jar of sauce. I usually let the whole thing come to a boil and then simmer for a few minutes. But really, you can eat it as soon as it’s hot. I also usually add in the chopped tomatoes last, so they retain some of their original consistency when I serve. Seeing as how I made this entire recipe up, it’s really a use-what-you’ve-got-and-go-with-it situation.

Serve your sauce over your spaghetti squash “noodles.” I added some grated Parmesan cheese and had to salt and pepper my “noodles” a bit more (so I’ll probably add salt and pepper to the squash post–baking-and-forking next time), but otherwise I’d say this was every bit delicious as I had heard. I barely noticed that I was eating squash, in fact, I might have even liked it more than pasta but don’t tell anyone.

FRUIT CRUMBLE

With all the use I’d been giving my oven, I’d yet to bake a dessert in it. This was clearly not okay! I decided to rectify this with my pears and some remnant raspberries I had left in my refrigerator. I Googled pear and raspberry crumble, found this, and went to town.

Ingredients:
CanadianLiving.com	What I Used	My Commentary
FILLING
4 cups sliced peeled pears	Two sliced, unpeeled, pears	I didn’t even notice the skin, but now that I’ve found my peeler, I might peel next time.
2 cups frozen raspberries	a handful of fresh raspberries	Unfortunately, when I went to get my raspberries, I realized many of them had gone to the other side and I found myself with far fewer than I’d anticipated.
…	a nectarine	To compensate, I added in a nectarine.
…	a couple grapes	This is where I went a bit off the rails, but I was bolstered by this grape and pear crisp recipe (and I was still lacking fruit!). You’ve got to work with what you’ve got!
1/3 cup packed brown sugar	1/3 cup packed brown sugar
2 tbsp all-purpose flour	2 tbsp all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp nutmeg	…	Yeah, I don’t keep nutmeg on hand. Probably should.
TOPPING
3/4 cup all-purpose flour	3/4 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup packed brown sugar	3/4 cup packed brown sugar
3/4 cup quick-cooking rolled oats	3/4 cup quick-cooking rolled oats
1/3 cup butter, melted	1/3 cup butter, melted	Melted in the microwave.

Directions:
CanadianLiving.com	My Commentary
1. In large bowl, gently toss together pears, raspberries, brown sugar, flour and nutmeg. Spread in 8-inch square glass baking dish.	I did this with my fruit additions and omitted the nutmeg.
2. In separate bowl, stir together flour, brown sugar and rolled oats. Drizzle with butter; stir until crumbly. Sprinkle over fruit.
3. Bake in 350°F oven until golden and bubbly and fruit is tender, 45 to 60 minutes.	Watch one episode of Breaking Bad, then eat.

I served this warm with some whipped cream and had to hold myself back from going for seconds.

Cooking used to be so daunting to me but when I remind myself of these simple rules/guidelines, it’s just another tasty challenge:

More Meals = More Practice

Make dinner every night. Even when I don’t feel like it, I cook. By doing this I learned (1) cooking is not nearly as hard as I thought it was, (2) it is possible to do it both well and quickly, and (3) it’s a great, fun way to switch gears after a long day even if it feels like a chore when you first start.

Improvise AKA Get Creative

Don’t make cooking harder than it needs to be, follow the instructions, but don’t be afraid to switch ingredients or adapt recipes to your equipment/time/skill level. I usually combine several recipes and look closely at reviewers comments and see what their experience was like.

Don’t Skimp on Essentials

Substituting and improvising can be a wonderful adventure, but skimping on essentials like oil, butter, eggs, milk and cream can severely effect the taste of a meal (and not in a good way). If it says it wants A WHOLE CUP OF ACTUAL BUTTER, put in a damn cup of ACTUAL butter! Not margarine, not half a cup, not anything else. I could start linking to all the articles and arguments about butter being better for you than all of its substitutes but I’m going to go with this line from Michael Pollan: “Eat food, not food products.” Or this line from me: “It tastes so much better.” Eat in moderation, exercise, be smart, and put down all the junk food before you blame butter.

Leftovers are your friend

Always make enough to take for lunch the next day and, if possible, even more to keep in the freezer. If you don’t eat it for lunch, it can be there for another dinner. There’s nothing better than coming home from a long day and turning some frozen leftovers into a new 15 minute meal.