Taking things in context

I guess I've always known that I have anxiety issues. It's not a fun thing to live with, you know. In college it was my perpetual state of being. The nerves, the sweaty armpits, the flushed face, and last, but worst of all, the stomach tied up in knots. Okay, maybe the sweaty armpits were the worst. Anyway, I would often wake up in a panic because I had another one of those dreams where I signed up for a class and then forgot about it. Of course, I never attended class and on the last day of the semester I'd realize that I was flunking the class! This was terror. An F meant...it meant...well, the end of the world!! That's what it felt like anyway. I'm certain I realize now that flunking a class...or getting a B or C or something like that...wasn't the end of the world. Actually, I'm sure I realize it as long as I'm not taking a class, in which case all reason flies out the window and I'm crazy perfectionist lady.
I guess I'm saying all this because I've been so anxious the last couple of weeks that I can't even sleep anymore. I have never, ever had a problem with this. I'm typically the kind of person who barely remembers their head hitting the pillow. Not these days. Now I'm the kind of person who has anxious energy that keeps them up until the hours of the morning that no one should see and then has them tossing and turning until they just give up and get up an hour after going to bed to do the dishes and attempt a descent gluten free loaf of bread. Yep, that's me. And here I am 11pm the very next night, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Of course, it's in a very miserable kind of way since I have this green anxiety monster eating away at my insides.
I considered staring at the TV. Nah. How 'bout surfing the web? Nah. Truth is, I don't get the whole surfing the web thing. If I have something to research I'm a mad woman...otherwise, I just don't get the fascination. I could always clean. Hah.
So here I am. I'm hoping this will be therapeutic.
I realized this morning whilst walking home from dropping the ladies off at school that I think in terms of stories. It's kind of weird really. See, when I look at someone walking down the street I start to wonder who they are, what's on their mind, where they're going, etc. The fact of the matter is that everyone you see is basically a walking story. I think we have this horrible habit of treating people outside of the context of life, which seems to me as treating them not as people. If we think of them as a life, as a story, we might imagine that the woman who nearly ran us off the road might be mourning the death of a son, or might have just discovered that her husband is having an affair, or maybe just got the news that she's pregnant at 53 years old. She'd be in a state of extreme emotional distress and, though perhaps driving isn't the best activity for her at such a moment, it would obviously cause her to not pay attention and consequently nearly run you off the road. She's not a jerk, a B, or anything else. She's a person. In pain. At this point the world isn't so much about ourselves and what that person did to us, but it's about the interacting and colliding of all these different stories against each other. We could go on and on and on here... We could imagine reasons why that person looks so sad, or why that dude told me off outside of Sainsbury's yelling that I should "just go home." Of course, perhaps these people are really just (insert your own word here), but how often is that really the case? Perhaps a person with extreme prejudice feels that way because they were personally affected by something to do with whoever they are prejudice against (like the country they are from). We can't expect most people, or maybe any people, to be self-reflective enough to think about the fact that their limited experiences are actually just that--limited--and nothing on which to judge an entire race, country, or whatever. I don't guess we can expect them to look past their own issues and self-centered attitudes to see that they're talking to a person with a story of their own, which is probably one that includes pain and hurt (which they are making worse).
Truth is, I'm not trying to make some kind of lovely philosophical argument about why we should treat people better. I'm just trying to describe how I think. A lot of times it's not much fun. Take, for instance, the fact that I'm, like, insanely insecure. Ya, I don't get it. I just am. Anyway, a common scenario would be something like this: Jason and I are at the cafe at our gym. I just finished a kickboxing class and look all sweaty and yucky. He's just (allegedly) played tennis for the last hour. We get up to walk out and the very gorgeous, young, never-born-a-child, made-up, nicely dressed chick with the luscious long brown hair looks up and kind of stares as we walk out. Perhaps some people would think, "what in the heck is SHE looking at?" Not me. Automatically I create a scenario in my head that probably would make some pretty good reading in the pages of a Harlequin. The problem is that these stories I create also get me emotional, so that when it is a story about something personal, I get upset. Ya, not good. Poor Jason.
So tonight I found myself thinking about events in a life, a relationship, or whatever. A lot of times as parents or spouses I think we like to think about doing big and elaborate things to show our love and affection. We want to buy lovely gifts, go to fantastic places, etc. Not that there is anything wrong with such gestures, but it hit me that we often ignore the small, seemingly insignificant daily monotonous and forgettable actions and conversations that are, in actuality, not insignificant at all. When I look back at my childhood memories and think about the specific memories that pop in my head that mean "my parents loved me" they have nothing to do with gifts, or trips, or anything that either of my parents might remember. For instance, I have always gotten really big headaches. One time when we were on vacation in Florida my mom massaged my shoulders and neck for a really long time. It made my headache better and I have never, ever forgotten it. Another one was when I got my wisdom teeth pulled. Man, it was a nightmare. I couldn't sleep then either...because of the PAIN. My mom sat up with me for HOURS, stroking my hair, talking to me. I've never forgotten it. I also remember this one time with my dad when just the two of us went to this sign language class. Afterwards he brought me to Braum's and we got a hot fudge sundae!! I think we did it another time and we went and got a Big Mac. We didn't tell any of my other sisters we'd gone for those goodies. It was just special between us. I think of it often.
So how often do we think about the fact that our children and our spouses and our loved ones will probably love whatever grand thing we do for them, but the only thing that really matters is the context in which that grand thing is offered? The context is that "insignificant" everyday "stuff" that comes and goes without anyone ever noticing. It's the way we treat each other, the time we spend with each other, the way we serve each other...every day...in the small, consistent ways that, if we're honest, are the hardest. It's not so hard to plan a grand vacation or gift. It is very hard to consistently serve in the unnoticed ways every single day. To be the one who, for example, gets up with the kids in the middle of the night without disturbing the other one (or getting huffy because they didn't get up to help). Or the one who does the dishes while the other one sits drinking the latte that was just made for them. These are the tough things. But they are really the things that matter.
I guess there are all kinds of ways we can apply this. I'd like to think my kids will remember me making them pb&j sandwiches and cutting and "plating" them in such a way that it's like "masterchef." Or maybe they'll remember the walks to school with the Hershey's Kisses in my pocket just for them. I hope they'll remember that I tried to always give that extra kiss goodnight even when it was late and I was tired.
Then there is of course what is probably the most important relationship in a person's life. How do we serve our spouses daily? What are the little things that are setting the context for all our other actions to be remembered in. There may be that hot date night I planned that one time, but I'm certain that would pale in comparison to all the times of accusation, or dishonesty, or lack of understanding, mercy, and grace. We could spend all the money in the world on someone, but if we treat them badly in the small, consistent, daily things that we think should slide because they're small, it won't make a bit of difference.
I kind of wanted to branch this out, you know, like to money spending and building houses and growing plants and roots...but I think I'll spare everyone and call it a night.
I'm feeling less anxious. Still not tired though. :/

A Moment of Self-Reflection

A hole. A self-imposed solitude. Hardly. Solitude. HAH!! No, rather, a self-imposed cutting off from outer stimuli. This stimulimitation is what I like to call my "hole," though, upon reflection, I find that "hole" is by no means a fitting word. Being in a hole would make one think of darkness, quietness, sitting around with nothing to do...complete quiet, still solitude.

Solitude is something I only have a vague intellectual idea of. I have no experiential understanding of what this word means. Thus, how can I liken my present state of being as hole-like? Truly, I cannot.

So how then can I describe to the outside world what this intended self-preserving stance toward the world is? How can I adequately describe it's purpose? What would the point of such a venture be anyway?

The point, my friends, is that I would like to know what it is and why I do it so I can get over the intense guilt I feel from "crawling" in my "hole." Oh, and I have my first attempt at gluten free cupcakes in the oven and, to ease the nagging anticipation of the outcome of this frustrating venture (long story), I decided to write. Not to make any readers feel bad, but my first inclination was to call someone. Jason? No...at this point we are just sitting on the phone saying, "I love you," or, "I miss you," now and then with increasingly long intervals of quiet in between. Has everything been said? Hardly. It's just that I've discovered that dudes can only stand so much female hashing and rehashing over the same subjects that plague the female mind. Thus, though I cannot always resist, I do try to spare him this agony. Then I thought about my sisters. Nah. Truth is that I feel pretty pathetic sometimes when I call and want to talk and talk and talk and talk and talk (because they are my sisters and I have lots to say to them I guess) and then realize that they have lives that are on hold while I utilize them to fill the void that is left in Jason's absence. So here I am, cakes in the oven, typing away and realizing that I don't even remember what I was writing about anymore.

....Oh ya, my "hole." See, we've already established that what I've historically referred to as being my "hole" is actually nothing of the sort. I feel better already.

To more adequately describe this psychological shift that occurs, I think I must first delve into the reasons driving this shift. Well, Jason's gone. I'm sad, yes, but more than that I am overwhelmed by everything. Not that there is necessarily more to be done around here because, though I hate to hurt his feelings, he isn't exactly Mr. Clean, but the tasks he does take on are my "dreaded" tasks...like making appointments, going to the bank to make transfers, making any phone calls in general, checking my voice mail (why do I hate that? good question). Beyond that, sometimes my little psyche just has a hard time coping with this world. My man helps me cope. He makes me feel better, protected, like everything's gonna be okay. Having my psyche propped up, if you will, makes social interaction, which is an exhausting (though enjoyable) task for me, so much easier. With my psychological support structure taken away, I feel less able to cope with things while also maintaining some level of sanity and grace in dealing with unavoidable tasks like, say, caring for my kids and keeping up with laundry.

Thus, I withdraw. At first, I try to keep up with everything. That lasts usually a week or two, at which point I realize that I just can't take it anymore. Then, as I look around my disastrous house with an overwhelming sense of, um, being overwhelmed, I withdraw as much as possible and focus on what must be focused on...my kids, supporting my man while he's away, and trying to keep the house up. As time passes, I can slowly incorporate a little outside interaction, but only on a case-by-case basis.

I think, in light of this analysis, I shall stop calling my psychological withdrawal from the outside world a "hole" and, instead, refer to it as prioritizing. My little psyche can only take so much, and my energy only extends so far. Thus, I must prioritize or I'll end up running so hard that I will eventually crash.

Now, I went into this particular time of separation from my man with the outlook that the Lord would sustain me and energize me for the things that needed doing. I pray for this daily. This has led to a fairly drastic look at my calendar to ascertain, then, what things are driven by what He would have me do and what things are driven by what I would have me do because, to be honest, He has not turned me into superwoman or added to the hours of the day. Though this sounds insanely easy, it is not. There are so many things we can do, including volunteering for good causes, etc. that we do at the expense of what God has actually called us to do in the Word. Though I'm sure those things are great and are often based on an actual calling from the Lord, I believe that we all have to discern, prayerfully, what motivates us to do these things and what we sacrifice to do them.

What I find, then, is that, biblically speaking, the primary calling on my life is to be the wife and mother He calls all us wives and mothers to be. For me, that means devoting myself to the upbringing and education (not just academic but also emotional and spiritual) of my children, creating a positive home environment, and supporting the hubster. All this must be done with gentleness, respect, quietness and dignity. Tall order...YES!

As a side note, I just have to say that gentleness and quietness aren't strong points for me at all. He'd better create that spirit in me or just accept me as I am, I guess.

I think that all this flies in the face of what modern culture, to which I have subscribed on some level, would tell me. As a woman, why should I sacrifice my "goals" and "aspirations" to raise kids and take care of some man? Shouldn't I be able to have it all...live up to my intellectual and professional potential as well as have my family there for me when I get home at night?

No, I shouldn't. Because in doing so, I'm actually giving the most powerful aspect of my womanhood to someone else. This aspect has to do with the drastic influence I have on my children (and my husband too, I've found). Us modern women want to take the lead and change the world...all the while allowing institutions to raise our children for us. Well, I'd like to ask this then: isn't the biggest impact we can have to raise and then set free into the world children who have been brought up and molded properly? Instead of this, we are all on this ego rush to obtain high position to make a "positive impact" while we are totally neglecting to impact the most important people in our lives...our children, our families, and those placed around us.

Now I can't remember my point at all. Ummm...I guess that I'm just saying that being forced out of necessity to cut back on activities allows a person to see things in a completely different light. Thus, no holes, just priorities. Or something like that.

Problem is that I still can't seem to make myself check my voice mail or call people back sometimes. Oh well, no one is perfect...

Now, let's go see how those cupcakes turned out.........

Out of the Mouths of Babes...

Setting: Dinner table eating a corn/rice pasta concoction.

Maddy: I hate water.

Mommy: You need water.

Maddy: Water isn't good for me.

Mommy: You need water because your body is made mostly of water.

Maddy: Really, mommy? Why did God make us with water?

Mommy: I don't know. Only God does.

Maddy: Why can't we hear God.

Mommy: Actually, you can hear God you just have to know how.

Jordyn: I hear God.

Mommy: (surprised at her declaration) You do?

Jordyn: Yes.

Mommy: How do you hear God? How does he talk to you?

Jordyn: (thinks for a second) In my head and in my heart.

Mommy: (in awe of her little girl) So God talks to you in your head and heart?

Jordyn: Ya.

Mommy: What does he say?

Jordyn then goes on to talk at length about how when she does something naughty she turns on her head and her heart and she remembers all the things she's been taught. For example, she marked the table with her ruler at school today. When the teacher asked who did it, she admitted that it was her because of God talking to her head and heart. When she does good things, like eating all her salad today, she hears God tell her "brilliant, Jordyn!"

Mommy: Did someone tell you about this or did you figure it out yourself?

Jordyn: I figured it out myself.

Mommy: (amazed, joyfull, humbled) ........

The Onion

Consider for a moment the humble onion.




I can't say that I have any good memories of onions from childhood. Actually, I can't say I have any memories of onions at all, really. I simply remember that I hated them. I think all my sisters hated them as well. This hatred was so severe that my mother--or I at least believe she did it for us rather than for ease, but who knows--resorted to using onion powder in her cooking rather than actual onions. This practice was continued in my own house for years after I married since my lovely husband, Jason, has this amazing ability of spotting even microscopic pieces of onion in his food and picking it out. Is there anything more irksome and disheartening than seeing something you've made with love being nit-picked before your eyes? Not really. Thus, my use of onions has historically been minimal, at best.

I can't really blame it all on my husband, to be fair. When I look back at how onions were, or were not, used in my childhood, it kind of makes sense why I hated them. Not to offend either one of our fabulous families, but when I see how his parents use onions it also makes sense that he'd hate the things also. Typically they have been or are cooked in such a way that the final product yields a clear-ish, white-ish slimy "thing." This means that neither one of us had any appreciation for the true beauty of the onion. Rather, we saw them as stringy, slimy things that tasted bitter, pungent, and generally yucky. These childhood impressions are difficult to overcome, especially when they are severe enough to make one literally wretch if an onion is accidentally missed in the "picking" process. I kid you not. (By the way, that wasn't me)

How sad, really, especially since I think this issue is somewhat widespread. Being dependent on a diet primarily composed of ready-made meals, those of us raised after the advent of Campbell's Soup, and it's subsequent domination of "cooking," have little or no experience using onions properly as the foundation for our meals. Rather, we use these manufactured sauces, soups, and packaged "stuff.". It truly breaks my heart when someone presents something to me that they "made" and I realize, later, that they simply bought a few pre-made ingredients and put them all together. Though there is value in such things (maybe), and perhaps some necessity as well, considering our fast paced lifestyle, I think it represents a loss of something precious and beautiful.

This loss, I believe, is representative of something much, much bigger. Our food is packaged in flashy packaging with copious (and mostly dishonest) adjectives which can be opened in an instant. We can then consume our morsels of immediate gratification in moments, which provides a quick pleasure that leaves in its wake an emptiness and longing for more. How much more do we attempt to package ourselves with flash and describe ourselves with copious (and mostly dishonest :) ) adjectives so that we appear desirable to those around us? How often do we buy into this ourselves, believing that we will like ourselves better if we have or achieve all these things? The same goes for entertainment and pleasure, I believe. We are a society so focused on our moments of "enjoyment" that as we continually seek a better "high" we desensitize ourselves and subsequently find ourselves digging ever deeper into the abyss for the desired effect. One must not look far as prime time television is a perfect example. Increasing violence, horror, sex... I personally think this mentality is more widespread than anyone would be willing to admit. I do not think that any of us are immune to its tempting promise of fulfillment. However, we find, ultimately, that the only thing we've achieved is an increased appetite for more and more as well as an increasing and ravenous desire to fill our devouring void inside.

Though I imagine this phenomenon is something true to both sexes, I find myself relating to this particularly as a woman. The social call (could it also be an obligation these days?) to be the successful working woman, devoted mother, and loving (and, of course, seductive temptress) wife is strong. We want to have it all. We want the independence that we've historically been deprived of. We want to assert ourselves. We want to break through a male dominated, patriarchal social structure that has characterized western history. Granted, history has been cruel to women. Could we, however, be throwing the baby out with the bath water?

Having been fully sold on this concept, I found myself as a college student harboring animosity and distrust of the classic male role. When I married, I saw no reason to change my name and lose my identity. Still to this day I get a bit peeved when I get a letter addressed to "Mrs. Jason Ramm." So now I don't even get my first name?? Am I identified only by this guy I married? What about ME?

I recently read John Piper's book on marriage. He asserts that the institution of marriage is to portray the relationship between Christ and the church, and, to that end, a woman is to be submissive to her husband (as we are to be to Christ) and the husband is supposed to love his wife (as Christ loved the church...by giving his life for her). As I thought on this concept in conjunction with my unwillingness to change my name I immediately thought of this passage in Isaiah: "One will say, 'I belong to the Lord'; another will call himself by the name of Jacob; still another will write on his hand, 'The Lords,' and will take the name Israel." (Isaiah 44:5, NIV) I realized then why I should take Jason's name. The humbling of myself and placing myself under his authority is a picture of how we are supposed to take Christ's name and put ourselves under his authority. Another beautiful picture of this can be found in the book of Ruth when, quietly, she lays at his feet and asks, when he notices her, Boaz to cover her with his garment and be her kinsman-redeemer. Thus, my unwillingness to place myself under my husband demonstrates my unwillingness to place myself under God's authority in obedience to his design. Not very flattering.

Anyway, back to the onion. All this being considered, I want to be more like the onion.

No, I don't want to stink and I don't want to make people cry. The onion is a humble vegetable. It does not adorn itself with bright colors. It doesn't boast. It doesn't assert itself. It simply is what it is with no apologies. Just like Ruth. She was faithful and hard working. On reading Ruth, you'll notice that she didn't go out looking for a man, she didn't dress seductively or come on strong. She didn't try to impress or flatter him. Instead, she worked her butt off to feed herself and Naomi. I like to imagine that she looked and smelled very sweaty when Boaz first noticed her since she'd been working in the fields all day. I don't think she had time for a shower and change of clothes before he invited her to eat with him. Despite this, Boaz obviously saw something very attractive in her. She got his attention. What could this have been?

I think we find our answer in 1 Peter. "Don't be concerned about the outward beauty of fancy hairstyles, expensive jewelry, or beautiful clothes. You should clothe yourselves instead with the beauty that comes from within, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so precious to God. This is how the holy women of old made themselves beautiful. They trusted God and accepted the authority of their husbands. For instance, Sarah obeyed her husband, Abraham, and called him her master. You are her daughters when you do what is right without fear of what your husbands might do." (1 Peter 3:3-6, NLT)

Thus, like the onion, I'd like to have an inner beauty that, though perhaps not flashy, is of great worth. When one learns to truly appreciate the onion, they will find that it is in actuality one of the best flavour enhancers there is. Allowing an onion to saute slowly on low heat allows it to release its sugars and caramelize. When this happens, it adds depth and flavour to food that otherwise cannot be had. There is, also, no substitute. You can't get the effect from powdered onion, dried onion, or just throwing it in at an point while cooking. Not everyone can appreciate this in an onion. It takes too long. There is no immediate gratification here. It doesn't come in flashy packaging. But to the person who does take the time, well, they will indeed receive their rewards. Though their dishes may not be called "Onion This," or "Onion That," the onion is always there doing its job as it serves as the humble and beautiful foundation to a fantastic meal. Not only that, the onion has all kinds of nutritional qualities, like, for instance, a preservative effect. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we also had a preservative rather than destructive effect with our words and actions? I think we should all take the time to recover the onion for our cooking rather than using sorry substitutes or using it improperly. This means we'll have to take the time to learn how to use it most advantageously. Likewise, we should all take the time to recover and cultivate the beauty of our inner selves. This may not be flashy, but it will leave you healthy, desirable, and satiated rather than empty, unsatisfied, and longing for more.

Switching gears a little, I'd like to share with you a lovely pumpkin soup I made last night. I have to give Maddy some credit here because, while we were shopping, she insisted that we get a pumpkin and that we make soup with it. So, I bought a small pumpkin with no idea what to do with it.

I found this recipe online and made a few adjustments. The pumpkin was actually SO easy to work with! It was gorgeous too!

Though this recipe can be thrown together quickly, I took the time to caramelize my onions, which I think made ALL the difference! What an amazing flavor it adds. I would also encourage everyone to please, please, please salt and pepper every layer while you're cooking and developing flavors. Thus, get those onions going with some salt and pepper. Then add some salt and pepper later with your garlic. Then add a little more when you add in the pumpkin and potato. I promise you that layering your flavors and allowing each one to develop in its own right makes a massive difference to the final product. Oh, I also left the chilis out because I knew that the curry paste would be more than enough for the kids' English influenced taste buds.

Finally, I took a couple slices of GF bread and sauteed them in some coconut oil and salt. They were great for dunking!

The girls were very pleased with how it all looked together!

And they enjoyed eating it as well!

Better off without you!

After so many years together, I now realize that all you ever did was drag me down. And for what? A few moments of pleasure? You made me think I needed you...you, with your hard exterior and soft interior, so pleasing to look at and to taste. So many times I felt like I couldn't enjoy life without you. You have been the foundation of so much in my life, though I never realized that there was something so much better out there.

Now you're history and though you do cross my mind from time to time it's only to think about how happy I am to no longer feel like I depend on your goodness. The truth is that you were never really good at all. Though you may have tasted sweet in the moment, you only caused me anguish and pain. I've hurt. I've cried. All this because you never loved me back. You found your way deep into my gut and tore me apart once you were there.

So now when I see you with other people I do not crave you. I walk right by when we run into each other at the grocery store. Though I see you or your shadow everywhere I turn, I'm getting better and better at avoiding you altogether. Soon, you and the pain you caused will only be a distant memory.

Yes, wheat, I've moved on.

No longer will you be the foundation of my pizza or the heartbeat of my bolognese sauce. I know now that I can mop up my olive oil with another. You are not required for terrific toast or for a delectable dessert. These things, in fact, can be so much more beautiful without you.

I don't mean to be harsh. No hard feelings. As I continue to mend from the heartache you've caused I will always look back on our time together so that I can truly appreciate all the beautiful things ahead.

With gluten a thing of the past, I have moved full force into a world of cooking that is unknown and exciting. I've discovered so many new ingredients that I've tried or hope to try soon that there just aren't enough meals in the day to satisfy my curiosity! Whether you're on a special diet or not, I urge you to get out there and try all the beautiful foods this world has to offer. Truly God has created an amazing world for us to enjoy and has given us our senses so we can experience it to it's fullest. Allow yourself to look around, to notice the pink rose in your neighbor's garden and maybe even take a moment to experience its amazing scent or to look at and appreciate God's craftsmanship when you interact with the important people in your life. All these things can and should incite praise in your heart as you realize God's love and kindness in giving us such fine gifts to enjoy.

So let's use our taste buds and our creative power (which I think is an image of God's creativity) to find that this creation is, indeed, very good!

Inspired by the Gluten Free Goddess, I made a quinoa salad the other day following her recipe (pictured above). Though it was very good, I felt like it could be improved upon (based on my own tastes). Thus, rather than using chick peas, as they do not agree with my tummy, I exchanged them for white beans. I do think that pecans give the dish an autumn-like feel, but I felt that using chopped hazelnuts would be better. Thus, I roasted them on low heat with some salt and about 1 tsp of maple syrup. Additionally, I feel that spinach is a little overpowering for the dish, so I opted for a more delicate and neutral lettuce. I chose an Italian baby leaf mix, which worked beautifully! Finally, I decided to change the dressing a tad. I used 4 Tbsp olive oil, 3 Tbsp maple syrup (the real stuff, people. Mrs. Butterworth is not allowed here!), and the freshly squeezed juice of 1 lemon. Whisk that up with a fork until it comes together, pour over your salad, mix, and enjoy. Truly, this salad is the best I've ever tasted and I caught myself going back for seconds...and then thirds, though it was only just a tiny taste. :-)

I would encourage you to try this recipe! Fresh, whole foods put together in a gastronomically exciting and satisfying way!!

On a final note, I'd like to add that cooking quinoa is really no big deal. Please do rinse it well as it may turn out bitter otherwise! I'd rinse it a couple times, just to be safe. 1 cup quinoa to 2 cups water should do it and please ensure that you let it sit for awhile to soak up all the water. Otherwise it's a little too "hard" to be enjoyable, I've found. It has great nutritional value! I told the kids we were eating planets and they ate it all up! We then looked at pictures of Saturn, since it has a ring around it like the quinoa. They ate that up too!

my sweet girls

It's hard for me to believe that it's already October 18th. It doesn't seem like our trip back home last January was that long ago and so, considering we aren't very far from January 2011, I feel like the last year has flown by so quickly that I barely even noticed it. Our lives, the kids--and even me--are barely recognizable when compared to last January. Sure, I look the same, I suppose, but I'm not. Yes, Jason is still more of a nomad than anything else, but he's different too. We are different.

I guess I'm just feeling sort of melancholy since he left yesterday. Maybe more reflective than melancholy.

To keep this reflective mood positive, I guess I will spend a few minutes talking about the girls. Jordyn.... Wow, what can I say about Jordyn. That child has morphed into this amazing bundle of energy since she switched to her new school. Whereas some children would relish a "free" day off, she does not. I came down pretty ill a couple of weeks ago and so, since Jason was not home, I wasn't able to get the girls to school. Jordyn was not happy at all and told me so several times. Bieng who she is, however, she didn't pitch a fit and instead wrote me a sweet note and brought me a Sprite and a banana. Considering how I felt, I wasn't exactly thrilled at the thought of eating, but I appreciated the gesture nonetheless.
The other interesting development in Jordyn's personality is that she is silly! Strange faces, talking in funny voices, crazy dances...you name it, she does it. A lot. She reminds me a little of my sister, Summer, who was silly as well. Hopefully that will paint a little bit of a picture of what she's like to my own family members.
As always, Jordyn is sweet and incredibly empathetic. She's a perfectionist. She's an observer. She has a strength that I don't understand in a child her age as she seems content and happy to play by herself or with other children...any other children. She seems to have no "best friend" or group she hangs out with at school but seems to float from person to person and is totally fine with it. She just seems confident in who she is and doesn't necessarily need to depend on being part of a group of people to define her value and her identity. I realize she's very young, but I think you can tell so much about a child's personality from a very young age.
And, finally, she still to this day sleeps with Elmo every single night.




Moving on to Maddy. What can I say about Maddy? Sensitive, emotional, energetic, honest, open, and confident. Maddy is really quite similar to the person she's always been. She's mostly happy and smiling her big, beautiful smile. However, when she's sad or mad or hurt, you're gonna know it. Actually, everyone within a mile radius is gonna know it. She seems pretty much unable to hold anything inside, even if she desperately wants to. She's been "told off" several times at school already and each time, though she doesn't want to tell us about it, she ends up spilling the beans. A couple of times she so desperately didn't want to tell us that she's told us through tears and threw in every now and then that she didn't want us to know because we would get mad. I feel like the only way to understand Maddy is by telling a few stories about her...
During the summer holidays we went through a phase when Jordyn was having some sort of behavior problem that was getting very frustrating. So one day while I was driving with them I decided to have a little chat with her about it. I made it very clear that I was speaking to Jordyn and discussed what the problem was and then said that we were going to have to solve it. I told her that she had a choice and that we could do things the easy way or hard way. I asked her which way she'd like to do it and Maddy burst out in tears and said "THE EASY WAY." I reassured Maddy that it wasn't about her, but she still felt horribly guilty. It was sad and sweet all at once.
There are of course many arguments and fights around here. Usually Jordyn gets so frustrated (I find that Maddy irritates her on purpose) that she squeezes Maddy's arm really hard or growls at her or something. Sometimes its a little worse. Anyway, usually when tell Jordyn to apologize Maddy begins crying and apologizes to Jordyn instead. Very sweet.
Assuming you have a general idea of who Maddy is, I'll stop there... Oh, I do have to say that the kid has a disgusting sense of humor that involves poo, wee, farts, etc. I have no idea where she got that from!! :-)

I also wanted to share that the gluten-free diet has been totally life changing!! I look different and feel different. I've totally gone off caffeine, artificial sweeteners, pretty much completely cut out sugar, and gone off dairy as well. I know that sounds like a lot, but it's been fine. The truth is that I haven't really felt the need for caffeine like I used to. I was drinking scary amounts of coffee and Red Bull. Scary. I went cold turkey and have had none for nearly two weeks. I feel so much better!!

It's also been a great opportunity to try new foods. Goats cheese, buffalo cheese, quinoa (though I've had this before), polenta... Rice milk has become a staple around here (Jordyn is inhaling the stuff). The girls are gluten-free (except at school) as well as Jason. Jason has been so good about it also, which has been a huge help to me. I never thought I'd see him eat gluten-free bread...but he does!!

I'm really enjoying the experimentation, to be honest... except the sheep yogurt. I'm still having flashbacks to that one. Ick. I've taken to photographing some of my food, actually, because I've found that needing to think so much about what I eat has led to creating much more beautiful things than before. I mean, how often do we eat ham sandwiches, chips, unexciting looking salads, etc. These things don't sound or look good at all. Food, however, is not only artwork for the taste buds but also for the eyes. I honestly believe that you eat with your eyes first and cooking something, for yourself or others, is a beautiful way to love, care, and show how much you value them or yourself. When you think on how food impacts people and how experiencing gorgeous flavors is such a sensual experience, it becomes clear that it really is an amazing gift from God and we ought to take the time to create and enjoy it.

Anyway, here are a few things I've made recently...

My first gluten-free dinner. Not exciting. Simple and yummy Scottish salmon with soft goats cheese on mixed lettuce and garlic and onion wild rice. Yum!

The kids wanted pizza, so I made this for them yesterday. Who wouldn't want to eat that? They devoured it! And yes, it's gluten-free!

My lunch yesterday...mixed greens with quinoa and pesto, white beans, toasted pine nuts, tomato, and a beautiful hard and mature goat cheese. Oh, it was divine!

On the not gluten-free front, I've done a couple of cakes the last week. Here they are for your viewing pleasure...

Ode to Bread...

Oh, bread. Wonderful bread. Beautiful bread. Though I know you've been adulterated lately, with the advent of mass manufactured brands of sugary, chemically yuckiness that masquerade as bread, you, in your most rustic of forms, remain the crusty deliciousness of my dreams. The glorious mopper upper of delicious sauces. The gorgeous foundation on which to build a pesto, tomato, and mozzarella salad. I will miss you...





Now I embark on a bread free life journey. I feel almost like I've lost a close friend. :...(





So what's the story here? Well......about, ehm, 6 years ago I started having stomach pain. A year later, I tested positive for gluten intolerance. I ignored it because a gluten free diet is actually pretty gross. Hold on. Okay, I just had a vomit reflex when I remember back to the short time I tried a gluten free diet. Ew. I'm better now.





Anyway, it's been a bit of a roller coaster since then. I realized a couple of months ago that a lot of the "stuff" I deal with (that makes me feel like a hypochondriac (which means I am not going to tell you about all of it)) can be caused by coeliac disease and that the blood test is actually pretty accurate. Going gluten free was too much to ask, however, and I decided that I needed to wait to have a biopsy of the small intestine first. That hasn't happened.





I realized just today that there is another factor involved that makes it actually very likely that gluten intolerance is my problem. I'm not going to tell you about that either because I don't feel like I'm at liberty to say just now.





Anyway, I'm convicted now that it's time...it's time to make the change. But how?? I'd start with dinner, I decided earlier today. Searching my cabinets yielded very little that I could actually eat, really, and even less (actually about nothing) that could be made into anything resembling a meal. I had oatmeal with raisins and almonds and honey. Afterwards, I decided I should check the packaging. Whoops, the oats were processed in a plant that also deals with wheat. I'll start at breakfast tomorrow. Not sure what I'll have. A trip to the grocery store is in order, I believe.





I'm also wondering in the midst of all this whether I ought to go all the way and cut out dairy for a time. I read that lactose intolerance seems to come along with gluten intolerance about half the time. I wonder if a latte would be good with rice milk. Hm...





Okay, well, I obviously have my work cut out for me. This means that, alas, I ought to go to bed since I have much to do tomorrow. I also have to do Jordyn's homework with her (cringe) in the morning since we weren't really able to get through it tonight. She is supposed to write something about Australia since, I guess, they've been talking about it at school. I guess Jordyn wasn't listening that day. We therefore spent a lot of time looking up Australia info on Google, which then led to looking at pictures of all the scary bugs that live there. Jordyn loves bugs. Have I mentioned that? Oh yes, she LOVES them. She was particularly interested in the spiders...the poisonous ones. Now I'm wondering if she needs to so a psychologist. Nevertheless, we went out looking for spider pic after spider pic. Here's one of the favorites...

Yes, he is looking right at you. I'm sure he wants to eat you. Eeek!

Now I'm certain I will be dreaming of spiders. Plus, I have a brand new memory bank of horrifying spiders to draw from. Oh yay!