Archive for the ‘Food’ Category

this choice

Last weekend, my husband and I had a conversation about choice.

I told him I’m choosing to continue eating autoimmune protocol through the holidays. He replied that I didn’t really have a choice.

I disagreed. “I do have a choice, though. I can eat all the stuff that makes me feel shitty and then feel shitty myself, or I can choose to eat well and feel good.”

He challenged the idea that this represents a genuine choice*, so I elaborated. “It is a choice, and it’s important for me to acknowledge that I have a choice. One way–I can’t eat that!–feels like a prison. The other way–no, thanks, I don’t eat that–feels like a bountiful freedom. No one is forcing me to eat this way. No one’s holding a gun to my head, saying, ‘Eat that walnut. I dare you!‘ Without anyone forcing me, I am making the choice because I want to feel good again.” Read more…


better by the day

A couple of weeks ago, I sent my husband a celebratory text message:

fat adapted.png

“Gratz Deb!!!” he replied. Almost anyone else I texted with such a message would likely have replied with a “???” but Anthony knew what was up.

Me of five years ago sure wouldn’t have gotten it.

I first started eating clean when sustained exposure to specific toxins made me scarily ill in late 2012. After months of struggling to find effective answers or assistance, I finally discovered that I was experiencing chronic inflammation. I searched for ways to ease inflammation and found It Starts with Food, a book that outlined an anti-inflammatory food program.

I dived in, eating a little healthy fat, a little meat, and a bunch of veggies for each meal. Before long, I felt great. Read more…

Needs more snuggles

My family and I drove north on Friday for a Saturday wedding.

Unfortunately, my seven-year-old, Li’l D, had a high fever, so I wasn’t able to attend the wedding.

Fortunately, I was able to spend all Saturday snuggled with Li’l D. I read up on politics while he alternately giggled and walrus-coughed.

(Also fortunately, my husband took video of my two-year-old lighting up the dance floor, so I was able to enjoy that after the fact.)

Reading stark things while snuggling with my son really brought it home for me: my newfound passion for politics is about love.

My big fear is that Clinton wins tomorrow, and all the people I love go, “Phew, dodged that bullet!” before disengaging from politics for the next four years.

What they perceive as a victory will come at some truly terrible costs, a fact lost to those living in the U.S. government’s carefully constructed echo chamber. (One Denver citizen wrote that anyone not reading WikiLeaks is not an informed voter, and I agree; but from inside the echo chamber, I understand it’s impossible to grasp this while gasping, “But I’ve read dozens of HuffPo articles!” (Guess what? Arianna Huffington’s been gunning for Clinton since 2008.))

If Clinton wins and the people I love go, “Phew, now let’s get to work!” I’ll be happy. Why? Because politics shouldn’t be about celebrating who wins an election.

It should be celebrating how we’ve reached out to each other to make life better for each other, 365 days a year, not just when we want our candidate to get more votes in an election.

Fear makes us hate each other, when “each other” are truly all we have in the world.

Come what may tomorrow, I hope the people I love cast their votes with every intention of loving–and lifting–hard afterward.

Because, you know what? Everyone, every single one of us, needs more snuggles.

Prescribing Joy: Gardening hopes and dreams

Heart and Soul posts pictures and images that remind me it’s not only okay but vital to sink into sweet things, instead of letting them fly by unnoticed. Today’s post is no exception, and I’m delighted to share her uplifting words here.

prescribing joy

Gardening hopes and dreams

To feel immense joy a person must be ready for it. Open your heart to small moments. It’s living without blinders on but with a conscious awareness of joy. When you welcome anything that could make life better, a friend’s hug, a thoughtful compliment, a shared smile, a sunset for your viewing, I believe that’s your joy.

Joy means to me…

small moments that may seem insignificant to others but mean the world to me!

Joy means to me…

a quiet moment walking my yard and thanking God for its peace.

The incredible feeling I get when baking for my family and seeing their contentment when biting into a dessert.

Having my morning cup of coffee in peace, while watching flowers adorn our yard, outside my window and through the open screen smelling their very essence.

Picking weeds and digging in soil that a farmer did the very same thing in the early 1900’s, our gardening hopes and dreams the same, all except a passage of time of over a century.

Digging in the soil with high hopes of cultivating food for our family. Food that I know where it comes from and it’s as organic as you can get.

Quietly watching a graceful deer cautiously cross the road, skirting the edge of our running pond. The joy of wildlife surrounding our little abode and the expectations of many more sudden visits.

Seeing people from the past come out of the woodwork and all at the same grocery store. Being outgoing around old acquaintances and connecting once again.

Feeling the social connection that summer brings because warm weather brings everyone out and about.

A walk on the beach gazing at a vast ocean of beauty. Smelling the salty and fishy air while digging my bare toes in the scorching sand.

Listening and and dancing to music at an exciting concert. Seeing flashy colorful lights and appreciating music and it how it affects my soul!

Being with my family and talking, especially laughing! This is so good for the soul!

All my different experiences, the sources of my joy, all have a common factor. They are simple moments, mostly indulging in nature and simplicity. If you don’t know what brings you joy, pay attention. Write down things that make you happy or cause you to laugh deep in your belly. Notice these special people, things or places that cause you to feel joy. Once you know what they are, hold on to them with all your might. Make every effort to experience these joyful moments every single day!

last : Pouring Light | Finding Their Victories : next

Mechanics & medicine

A few days ago, I found a receipt showing it had been three years since a momentous change in my life health.

Oooooh, those are exciting words, right? They don’t seem very exciting in retrospect. They’re matter of fact. All that changed was my finding a book. One little book.

I’d spent six months trying to find a doctor who could help me understand what was suddenly wrong with me, and how to fix it. My search was fruitless. And then, then I found a book talking about how changing my diet could change everything. I was only eating eight foods at that point, so that the book’s direction to remove one of those–rice–didn’t seem like it could do much, but it changed everything for me.

Grains were a problem. Meat was not. Fat was not. Most vegetables were not.

I didn’t have a diagnosis, but I had (mostly) my health … and didn’t care much

about a diagnosis, as long as I had that.

About a year ago, I realized I was having a problem with certain sets of foods. They didn’t seem at all related, until I googled them and found a commonality. Read more…

The coffee need

On the first day of Lent, I committed to giving up the junk food that’s been my bane for the last many months. I usually eat junk food sparingly, but have been dosing it with myself most evenings since I wrote “my bulimia / my beautiful body” after my last Whole30.

“Junk food” means something different to me than it does to many people. For me, “junk food” is anything not listed on the Whole30 Autoimmune Protocol shopping list. It’s food that leaves me feeling crappier after eating it than I did before, whereas eating food on the list leaves me feeling better.

I usually feel like I’m swimming in rainbows a week or two into eating junk-free.

like this,

Like this, but with so many more rainbows

Not so this time. Read more…

Even Amazons weep

Last week I wrote that I feel I’m living one straw away from a broken back.

My littlest one had to go home sick that day, one week after having spent two days home sick. I told his daycare I was 99% certain his spontaneous illness was food related; since he’d just eaten French toast with them, I bet it was wheat, milk or egg.

It didn’t matter. He still had to go home, and stay home the next day.

Since I recently accepted a contractor position to lessen a horrifying commute, each of those unpaid hours distressed me. With all hours put in, one-quarter of my gross income goes to my youngest son’s daycare. One-quarter goes to rent. One-quarter goes to health insurance. With the last one-quarter, I buy groceries, gasoline and pay my other bills. Read more…

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