Author: Jana

  • the kind of person I am…


    That last quarter of a killer brownie that’s still sitting in the pan from dinner the other night. The one that just keeps getting smaller because everyone else isn’t selfish enough to eat the last brownie…

    I eat it for breakfast. No guilt whatsoever. Because that’s the kind of person I am.

    Killer Brownie recipe

    Really, these are the best brownies. Crispy on the edges, fudgy in the middle. Rich, rich, rich with no fantsy-pantsy chunks or caramel or rice crispies. Just pure unadulterated brownie.

    8 oz of unsweetened chocolate (use organic or fair trade so you can eat your brownies sans guilt)
    1 cup organic butter (I use unsalted, but if you use salted butter, cut the sea salt to 1/2 tsp or less)
    5 free-range eggs (meaning that the chickens are free range, not the eggs themselves…)
    3 cups organic sugar (get this fair trade, too, if you can!)
    1 tablespoon vanilla (I didn’t use organic, but will when I use up all the vanilla I already own. I’d recommend the special vanilla* for any Mormons trying this recipe)
    1-1/2 cups organic white flour (though next time I’ll try a mixing in some whole wheat flour just to see what happens)
    1 teaspoon sea salt
    optional: 2-1/2 cups chopped pecans

    Preheat oven to 375 degrees

    Melt chocolate and butter in a saucepan over low heat, then set aside (do remember to lick the spoon on this one–it will send you to all kinds of happy chocolaty places). In a stand mixer, beat eggs, sugar and vanilla at high speed for 10 minutes. Stir in chocolate mixture, flour and salt until just mixed. Add the nuts. Pour into greased 9×13 pan.

    Bake for 35 min.

    *Growing up in an LDS home that eschewed alcohol, “the special vanilla” referred to the vanilla beans soaking in a mysterious bottle of dark rum that we used for our extra-special recipes

    photo by yum9me

  • pilgrimclassic: Casting Faith

    This post originally appeared on Nov 19, 2006:

    On Thursday during my casting appointment there was a group of four people involved in the process—two prosthetists and two interns—each taking a different role in wrapping my residual limb in a flexible fiberglass shell, then shaping that shell into a form that will both conform to my anatomy and will also best contain the tissue, muscle and bone as I walk. This is an intimate process, as the socket of my prosthetic leg interfaces with the major bones of the pelvic girdle—holding in the ischium and pressing against the ramus.

    It is an odd feeling to have two male prosthetists shaping the casting material between my legs and around my hip. Realizing that they are interacting with the most personal spaces of my body. Knowing that it is their job and this is a necessary process for getting a good fitting socket. Me, trying to remain a bit aloof and distanced from the process, yet at the same time having such high hopes that they will get a good fit—that the socket will work well and not cause pain and the suppurating sores that I’ve suffered with for the past few years.

    On Thursday evening I experienced a different form of intimacy. I gathered around the kitchen table of a Friend, holding hands with three Quaker women who agreed to serve on my Clearness Committee. We sat in silence, in prayer, until I felt moved to speak, to tell them of the turmoil in my heart in the process of leaving Mormonism. I spoke hesitantly, nervously. Their role was only to ask open-ended questions. Not to judge. Not to guide. After 90 minutes of speaking and silence, they mirrored what I had spoken back to me. They told me what they had heard me say. They discussed how my body language revealed the truths of my heart. Most of all, they shared their concern for the burdens that I am carrying.

    Perhaps ironically, the Clearness Committee experience was far more discomfiting and intimate than the casting for my prosthesis. For I don’t readily share the thoughts of my heart. Yes, I do this daily blogging, but I speak primarily of mundanity here. I’ve only very hesitantly shared the steps of my spiritual journey with anyone. I suspect that most just can’t understand. Within the Mormon community I feel censure and distrust. I have few friends who can empathize with the loss of faith. Who can grieve with me through this process?

    Outside of Mormonism, I am flummoxed by trying to explain what leaving the church means. That it is a complete change of worldview. Is it, perhaps, like having to relearn to walk?

    There is a popular LDS song called “I Walk By Faith” that I sang often during my teen years. I identified with this song as a young Mormon who was developing faith in Christ and as an amputee, because each step involved trusting my prosthesis in hopes that it would support my weight. So now on my spiritual journey away from the LDS Church I am learning what it means to walk by uncertainty, to walk by doubt, to walk into completely unknown territory as my heart leads me onwards. Ironically, this seems the biggest leap of faith thus far.

  • pilgrimclassic: my glowing cemetery

    Originally published on June 23, 2006:
    Explanatory Note: In this post I refer my and John’s old podcast, which is no longer available for download. We have plans to resume podcasting together soon, and the first order of business will be to reinstate the old episodes. I’ll let you as soon as that actually happens!

    I was all set to write a quick post to tell you about my & John’s first-ever podcast where I read a short creative nonfiction piece about the Magna Cemetery [Note: this cemetery is typically called the Pleasant Green cemetery, as this was the name of the town in the late 1800s. After the copper mine came to the area the town’s name was changed to Magna, the name of the mine’s biggest smelter. I suppose the area was no longer pleasant and green after Kennecott came to town] and as I was googling the cemetery in hopes of finding a good picture to add to the post, I found this juicy tidbit:

    “Hauntings at Magna Cemetery: Much like the town of Magna, the Pleasant Green Cemetery reflects a sad history related to the settlement and hardships endured by the pioneers and immigrants who moved there to work in and live near the mines. Most of the people buried there did not have long lives, and mining accidents sometimes claimed multiple lives at once.

    It is a fact that the Pleasant Green cemetery glows green during certain times of the year. For a long time, people believed this was due to unsettled spirits haunting the place, though now it is understood that it’s due to the mineral luminescence from the soil. This doesn’t make the cemetery any less eerie. From the toppled headstones to the overgrown bushes and weeds, it’s hard to believe this cemetery is being used and/or that the ghosts of those buried there aren’t feeling slighted by the lack of upkeep and respect.”

    The two images I found of the cemetary are evidence of its forlorn-ness. One is from a Utah ghost site and shows an aerial view:

    The other photo shows the front entrance gate:

    It’s funny to me that I want to be buried in a place that’s so barren and ugly. But I also feel a deep connection to this space. It’s where some of the family oddballs are buried, and I think I would fit in better there than if I were interred in the perfectly-green lawns of a more typical Utah cemetery. And, it seems weirdly fitting to know that I would be buried in a place of legend, of mystery, of great sorrow, and of ‘luminescence.’

  • pilgrimclassic: a photo tribute to a well-traveled limb

    Originally published on December 13, 2006:

    Bidding farewell to most of my leg today as I upgrade the socket, cosmesis, stockings, and so forth. A pilgrimgirl first: a photo essay tribute to a well-traveled limb.

    As I put this together I asked myself why I wanted to take pictures of my leg, why this was important to me. And I realized how much I wish I had similar photos of my real leg before it was amputated. To help me remember.

    Update: here is a ‘key’ to the photos for those that are difficult to identify
    1) both feet
    2) my worn-out heel
    3) a tear in the covering at my knee
    4) the valve that seals my suction socket
    5) my big toe w/a shredded nylon over it
    6) looking down the back of the leg starting at the heel

  • pilgrimclassic: I, robot

    Originally posted on 3/1/2007:

    Sometimes I make jokes about being a “bionic woman” or a “cyborg.” Having a prosthetic leg with a computer-controlled knee joint lends itself to such comparisons. Truth be told, the first thing I’d reach for if there was a house fire in the middle of the night and we needed to exit quickly, wouldn’t be the family photo albums. I’d reach for my robotic leg. It would make sense, given that the leg cost as much as a luxury car. And, of course, because it’s essential for my mobility.

    I’ve been robotic for about three years. When I first heard that my insurance would pay for a computerized knee joint, I was thrilled to adopt the technology. I knew that it meant more stability, fewer falls, and a more natural gait. My prosthetist duly warned me not to get it wet, to charge the battery every night for at least three hours, and to notify him at the first sign of any malfunction.

    My kids were thrilled with my leg and its robotic possibilities. We wondered what might happen if an evil genius reprogrammed my leg and forced me to rob banks or steal diamonds? We giggled long and hard about that scenario. The first time my battery started running low, I was standing in a grocery checkout line with my son and daughter. We heard the telltale beeps and I felt the vibrating sensation like a cellphone ringer, notifying me that I had 10 minutes to get my leg plugged in or I’d lose power altogether. We raced home and made it just in time. The adventure was more thrilling than a car chase scene in a spy movie.

    Some days, however, I feel guilty about owning a leg that cost more than fifty thousand dollars. I think of my limbless sisters and brothers in other circumstances and I realize that dozens—if not hundreds—of low-tech limbs could be purchased for the price of my computerized leg. And I contemplate the thousands of new amputees returning home from Iraq, and those people throughout the world who live in daily fear of loss of life and limb.

    Last year my leg malfunctioned while I was traveling in Asia, perhaps a result of using a faulty power adapter for charging my leg. Though there was no way to get the computer repaired during my trip, I was able to continue my travels with my knee stiff–walking as if wearing a cast. Despite the impairment, I carried on with typical tourist activities: scaling the Great Wall, strolling through the markets, touring gardens, and do forth. Nearly every place we visited there were beggars, many of them amputees. I knew I needed to avoid giving handouts or I would be besieged by dozens of people asking for the same. So I kept my hands in my pockets and looked into their eyes and felt heartsick and smug. Contemplating the price that bought my mobility. Feeling my own betrayal.

  • making progress

    This past few weeks I’ve been steadily working on all kinds of projects. But I feel like I’ve been spinning my wheels and not really getting anything done. So to prove to myself that I have been working hard, here’s my grant/fellowship tally (my 12/19 tally):

    HU done 12/15
    WH done 1/2
    SC in progress–due 1/14
    PF done 1/7
    MH decided to wait until next year to apply

    I’ve also nearly finished the rough draft of my dissertation prospectus (due tomorrow). So I haven’t been a slacker. And I am getting things done. I just have to keep telling myself that…

    On a completely unrelated note: We had our bathroom light fixture fixed today. So no more fumbling with the odd lamp in the darkness (yay!). We also replaced the burnt-out bulbs in the fixtures above the sinks. What was a dark cave is now LIGHT. Light is good. Really. Happy light.

  • making history


    Episode 3 is posted, in which Prof Jeff Wasserstrom makes a strong case for why we should all be caring about China (and reading his latest book). It’s good stuff, people–not that I am at all biased in the matter….

    So take a moment to tune in.

    Oh, and for my next podcast I’ll be interviewing Pulitzer-prize winner Laurel Thatcher Ulrich. Stay Tuned!

  • pilgrim classic: a crazy quilt


    Crazy quilt, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    CatGirl assembled this quilt a few years ago with the help of Aunt Suz. She and I collected fabric bits for several years for this colorful creation.

    It reminds me of CatGirl herself: full of whimsy and color. And brilliant in every way.

  • resolve


    This may well be a resolution worth keeping.

  • gardens


    IMG_3605, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    A photo from the Japanese Gardens in Portland. The best Japanese gardens that I’ve ever been to, no contest. We visited on a rainy day so we had the whole area nearly to ourselves. It was a magical day–I loved the drizzly rain and it brought out all sorts of unique colors and textures in the foliage. Back then I hadn’t learned any photography (I suspect that John took this photo because it’s rather artfully rendered, but I’m not sure). Even two years ago I actually disliked taking photos because I felt so awful at it (the pics never turned out well-framed or in focus).

    Now I’m still just barely learning how to shoot pictures, but I have enough knowledge under my belt to make it enjoyable. I love how I can relax as soon as my camera is in hand and I’m strolling through a garden. Though I haven’t been able to take any pics for awhile now because with my cheap little camera I need a lot of natural light and it’s been overcast everyday–I’ve been dreaming of the days ahead when I’ll be back behind the lens again.

  • my loves


    dark carnival boookstore, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    John and books, books and John. What more could a girl ask for?
    (note: the kidlings were upstairs at the bookstore, searching for ways to spend their Christmas money…)

  • cozy


    ellykitty, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    She likes to be lazy and sleep in with me.

    Meow! :)