In Search of a Salad

About a year ago, Sean and I went to a delicious vegetarian Indian restaurant in Buffalo.

Today, we tried to go back.

Palace of Dosas is now a comics and games shop. They sell costumes for cosplay. If we had more time, I might have checked out the Dr. Who section that I'm sure they had. As it was, we were already about 30 minutes behind our plan. After calling 2 more veggie restaurants, one with no answer and one closed on Sundays, we headed into the (not yet) sunset in search of a salad.

It turns out that a salad is much harder to find than one would think. Gone are the days when very restaurant was seeking to attract newly health-conscious clients with delicious salads and expansive salad bars. No more is there a page of salads in the menu.

No.

Buffalo is loyal to it's self-titled, deep fried nosh, the Buffalo wing. Healthy, fresh food is not a priority. It is home to the Anchor Bar, apocryphally the birthplace of the buffalo wing, and to Duff's, the supposed best buffalo wings anywhere. Salads are simply NOT on the menu. If any were to be found, they were either a Greek salad, a mix of iceberg and romaine lettuce with a bit of pepper or cucumber thrown in, or a salad heavily laden with treyf.

With hunger growing we searched, seemingly in vain. At the third place we tried, the hostess remembered there was a place with a salad bar not too far away. "I was just there. It's called Steak and something. No, that's not it..." "Sirloin," I asked, "on Maple" (Maple is the street). "Yes that's it!" We had passed Scotch & Sirloin, writing it off as impossibly treyf and unlikely to have what we needed since it looked small from the outside. A bit dejected, we decided to give it a try, stopping at one more location on the way.

Finally, at our fifth restaurant, the hostess replied, "Yes. We do have a salad bar." "Really?" we asked incredulously. "Table for four." We opened our menu.

Appetizers:

• Clams Casino
• Clams on the Half Shell
• Deep Fried Onion Rings
• Stuffed Hot Banana Peppers, with sausage and cheese stuffing
• Deep Fried Shrimp
• Escargot
• Jumbo Shrimp Cocktail
• Bacon-wrapped Scallops

Every soup was meat based. There was one vegetarian option and 3 fish options not 100% treyf. The (extremely nice and helpful) server came to tell us the specials. When she described a steak seasoned with "kosher salt" it was all we could do not to burst out laughing. We were in the House of Treyf.

It turns out, not only does Scotch & Sirloin have a lovely salad bar, it costs only $9 for unlimited servings. Clearly this is not their big money maker. Plus, I think the restaurant is bigger on the inside. Dr. Who fans will know what I mean.

The Universe Conspired Against Me: Missing the End of an Era

I'm catching up on drafts. I listed a few planned blogs throughout the pain of the past months, but many were never finished. So here I am, finishing the ones I most cared about.

I am an Islanders fan. I grew up in Merrick, a stone's throw from Nassau Coliseum. Officially the Nassau Veteran's Memorial Coliseum, it was also known as the Old Barn. It was a beloved old arena, but sorely outdated. For 43 years the Islanders played there. The Old Barn was spartan. Seats were uncomfortable. The noise echoed in an ear-splitting din that made the building shake. But through it all, the Old Barn was beloved. Not only close to the Coliseum, I grew up in Islanders' heyday. Four Stanley Cups and 19 post-season series. Islanders' players also mingled with fans. I remember seeing players at public rinks. They spoke to us from the tunnel. They'd smile at us from the benches. We felt they were our team. We lived and breathed blue and orange. Even now, I have an Isles' jersey in my closet and a mini hockey stick on my office wall.

This year the Isles played their last game (maybe) in the Old Barn. (Rumor has it they may play a few games in the future). For all of its drawbacks, it was wonderful. Small and intimate, it felt like we were all a family cheering together.

December was the last time I was in the tri-state during hockey season. My last two Isles games were here in Toronto. This trip, my brother and I were planning a trek back to the Coliseum for a game. It was a bad idea. I was suffering from sciatica. Russ was good and sick. Neither of us was up for a two-hour trip to Long Island. Still, we were hopeful. Unfortunately for our plans Russell took Dad to a doctor's appointment. That ran late and into traffic on the way back. They arrived home way too late to start the drive to Uniondale. Simple fate prevented me from attending that final game.
Hindsight, even as it was happening, told me it was for the best. Neither Russell nor I belonged in a car that night. We would have driven 3 1/2 - 4 hours sick and in pain. We would have sat in cramped uncomfortable seats. We would have paid for it dearly in the days after. Still, I wish I had the chance. For the first time in a long time the Isles were playing great. It was a pleasure to watch. Reading the stats raised my spirits. After getting so used to disappointment, I didn't know how to react. What I do know, is it was the way the Isles needed to say goodbye to the Old Barn. In the words (slightly edited to the first person) of Joe Delessio, a writer for Sports on Earth, "it might be a dump, but it was our dump."

The Most Canadian Thing We've Ever Done

This post was meant to be posted in February. I typed the title, then got sidetracked. Driving to Ottawa turned out to be a setback, and between that, work, and life I never finished.

Each year since the first Family Day weekend we have traveled to Ottawa for Winterlude. The first year was accidental. I was trailing on business to Montreal and Ottawa. Sean came to join me in Montreal for Shabbat, and then onto Ottawa. We met up with friends there. My family enjoyed the new Family Day while I had meetings. We returned with those friends the next year.  We stay in a suite hotel near the canal, sharing Shabbat. We walked to the downtown synagogue. Saturday night we'd tour the ice sculptures in Confederation Park. Sunday, we'd head to Gatineau. We ate Beavertails and maple taffy. We drank hot cocoa and scotch.

As the years have passed, the group has grown, and so has the popularity of Winterlude. The children are old enough that we travel with our own minyan. One family in the group owns a Torah, and we share the responsibilities for t'fillot and reading. The crowds also grow each year as Family Day has become ingrained in our calendar. This year, motzei-Shabbat we headed out to see the ice sculptures as usual. We were greeted with rope lines to control the crowds. While standing on line (Yes, I know. If I were really Canadian, I'd say "in line.") one of the teens (also American by birth) described our actions as "the most Canadian thing we've ever done." Here we were, standing on line, in the freezing cold, politely without any pushing. There was an occasional jostle, always followed by "I'm sorry" or "Excuse me."

At this moment our friend shared a story. In a class, with a professor trying to illustrate the differences in regional dialects, the professor asked the students "if you were waiting for a bus, what would you be doing?" Generally there were two answers, "standing in line" or "standing on line." One student, a New Yorker, responded differently. To the question, "if you were waiting for a bus, what would you be doing?" He replied, "Pushing." I'm a New Yorker. To me, and to our American friends, this was an unusual scene, but as we looked on we realized, this was the most Canadian thing we've ever done. In true Canadian fashion, we waited patiently. Took in the sculptures, snapped pictures, and headed over to the Beavertails booth.

Moments With My Daughter

Okay, I shouldn't be typing this. I should be sleeping. But then so should Keren, who is sitting next to me. Why? Because we just finished watching Sleepless in Seattle. We'll go to be in a few minutes.

On Friday we were talking about the movie. Before we could watch it, Keren had to see An Affair to Remember and The Dirty Dozen. We did watch An Affair to Remember, but she only saw the grenade scene from The Dirty Dozen. Then Sleepless in Seattle.

Yes, I will regret this when I wake at 8-ish tomorrow morning, but it was so nice to share this time and laugher with my daughter. Even though I know I should be sleeping more, I hate to sacrifice these special moments. They fly by just too quickly.

Nighty night.

Pain & Perspective II

It's been 4 1/2 months since I've been blogging. When I last wrote about this I thought I was back; if not totally well, then better. What I learned was better is not enough. In many ways worse was actually better. When I was worse I could focus solely on getter better. As I healed I returned to regular activity, but I wasn't better. Regular activity left me sore and achey. 10 months later there are still things I can't do. I've resumed driving, but too much leaves me in pain. Long trips are almost unbearable, but no longer unavoidable. My garden is a disaster, with not hope in sight. After five years it was finally at a point where I could control and build it. Next year will be like starting over. Working two days in a row causes me pain. I simply can't sit at a desk that long. Looking at a computer screen, whether at work or at home is a problem. By the end of the day I can't bear to spend more time on the computer, whether email, Facebook, or blogging. Shopping is impossible. I keep trying, but pushing a shopping cart, packing bags, or loading and unloading groceries mean days of painkillers.

There are still adjustments. Mornings are longer and later . I need to do my stretches each morning, but earlier wake up times leave me exhausted. My sleep still isn't what it used to be. For the kids, this meant they were still getting to school late, even on days when I drove them. I've learned to automatically turn by body in bed and slide my legs straight off instead of swinging them down. Two days of swinging my legs causes pain in my right knee (my so-called good knee). I remind myself to change my position often. When cooking, I try to remember to wear crocs and stand on a pad. The floor is simply too hard.

I'd like to think the pain will still go away, but I'm beginning to doubt. I've learned the interconnectedness of my body. I tore cartilage in my right knee. That will never heal; beyond occasional pain it's not debilitating. So, no surgery. I understand and agree. Unfortunately this caused me to walk oddly. That caused the sciatica, which led me to to meds and lack of aerobic exercise, plus (admittedly) some stress eating (more on that later). This led to weight gain, causing more problems with the back and the knee. I've also noticed what I think is arthritis in my big toe. My entire right side now needs replacement.

I've also realized that the worst of it all is exhaustion. It's all I can do to get through a day. I move slower. Tasks take twice the time, and my days are longer. On Shabbat my body shuts down. My body knows, subconsciously, that Shabbat is a day for rest. It's not unusual for me to fall asleep early Friday night, followed by 6-7 hours of sleep on Saturday.

Of course this isn't all, but that is another entry. For now, it's time I took more time for myself, more time to relax, to shut down, to sleep. I need to get back to exercising. I need to revamp my diet, no more grabbing whatever's easy. I have to plan menus making sure the right foods are in the house. Sean and the kids were wonderful, but in the end, if I don't make my meals (at least breakfast and lunch and plan dinner) the are inevitably things I shouldn't eat, leaving me hungry and needy. I need to sleep enough each night, difficult due to pain and the piles of papers and projects that have built up through the past ten months.

Most of all I need to try to put me first. I'll let you know how that goes.