Tag Archives: self help

The Sourdough Loaf

6 Jun

Since I have declared myself to be living a gluten-free life, I have craved (almost daily) a slice of sourdough toast.  Oh to have the crunchy texture of the bread dripping with butter, smothered with a slice of white, cheddar cheese, and crowned with a cool, crisp arrangement of sliced bread-n-butter pickles on top…  The thought of this particular concoction has been calling to me.  And while I’m sure there are sourdough recipes out there for the glutenless, I cannot fathom that the texture resembles the San Francisco style treat to which my memory calls.  Even to have an elongated slice from an SF round, with only butter, is a treat in and of itself; add in honey from a local hive and Utopia is found–(not that I’m so interested in such a place, but the commonality of the phrase is a useful idiom within the context here).

Sourdough bread is such a favorite of mine that when I was in need of a new toaster, I took careful pains to ensure I only purchased a unit whose slice holders were long enough to support my particular love affair–the long slender slice of a crunchy on the outside yet soft on the inside–loaf.  Thankfully Cuisinart provided the match to my specifications.

My Toaster

Why talk sourdough?  Truly it is not the bread I am interested in discussing in this moment.  It is the longing.  The longing for something I have decided is off limits.  Now under normal circumstances, or let’s just say within groups where topics of discussion are probable, my desire for buttered toast and my self denial of it would incite the scoffer to aim his or her malice my way.  Understandably.  It is not as if I suffer a physical or psychological addiction to the favored munchie.  No, I am getting along just fine without it, though I smell and touch the loaves as I pass by them in the aisle of the supermarket.  I even pause to contemplate purchasing the two large, sliced loaves sold in Costco…but I keep walking, leaving them for another customer to consume.  But honestly I have to say, that having the desire for something that is ‘forbidden’ for whatever the reason, just plain stinks.  To make matters worse, tonight for dinner I made an old recipe from Bisquick called, “Chicken and Broccoli Impossible Pie”.  It is a favorite dish of my son and husband.  But tonight instead of using the, ever faithful, I substituted the flour mixture with a new, gluten-free, product.  And guess what?  My impossible pie was certainly that…impossible to eat!  It was awful.  And to make matters worse, or add insult to an already bad scenario, my potholder slipped and I burned my hand on the 400 degree, cast iron, pan.

So here I sit longing for something else, something like a real piece of sourdough toast…with butter.  But instead I am writing this meaningless fluff while applying and reapplying aloe vera plant to my wound.  Aaaahhh, the longing!

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The Normal Translation

22 May

I have spent the majority of this day and last night’s eve contemplating my feelings of exhaustion.  Especially as I have had the good fortune of receiving more than an adequate nights sleep, several nights in succession.  Mind you, I am continuing my ‘full function’ of the days activities, but all the while dealing with the feeling of needing a nap.  The ideas I wrestle with are as minimally invasive as ‘do I need to take vitamins?’, to the more intrusive, ‘perhaps I have cancer’, thoughts.  To which I answer in the following manner; ‘if I do need vitamins I’m out of luck because I never follow through with taking them–yuck!’ AND, ‘if I do have cancer eating away at some part of my body, then I guess I’ll be dead in about a year.’  I know, I know, not exactly the type of “proactive” mentality I normally purport having.  I assure you, however, I examine my answers utilizing the most lighthearted thought process even though what comes forth resembles a rather melancholic tone.

At any rate, tonight I have discovered the source of my sandbags, the dip in my dew, the dent in my hull…otherwise considered the cause of my fatigue.  My new “normal” lives cautiously afloat the fragility of the health of my son, Cole.  And in my constant attendance to his well being, whether that attendance is in thought or deed, I see that I shoulder an amount of emotional stress which translates to–or manifests as–the demise of my stamina.  For instance, the fixed appointments of the day had to be cancelled due to Cole having had a hard night, last night.  His hard night was a result of severe nausea and abdominal pain.  And today, he tells me he has back pain and his symptoms increase when he lies down–the upset stomach symptoms.

Now in families where there has not been the trauma of a brain tumor thrust into their “normal”, nausea and abdominal pain equates to the flu or food poisoning…or quite possibility, appendicitis.  But not in my normal.  In MY normal, severe nausea and abdominal pain with an increase of symptomatology upon prostration means….need I really point it out?!

Entonces aqui estoy sentado al lado de mi hijo tratando tener confianza, fe, y esperanza en lo que no debe ser mi ‘normal’.  Espero que el tiene el gripe y nada mas.  Pero aqui estoy sentado, mirando, esperando, finjo tranquilidad pero con la sabiduría que quizas mas tarde o mañana vamos tener que visitar un doctor.  Y con ese normal, es dificil sentirme tranquilizo.

Did you catch that?  If not, the base of the meaning (though you can cut and paste into an online translator if you so desire), is that my norm is in constant motion.  And though I sit here on my couch wearing the appearance of docility, I am actually a good example of Newton’s laws of motion…perpetual and constant.  Which can quite possibly have a draining effect.  And being I have this new realization or epiphany (choosing to use the word wrapped in religion vs. simply derived from the French language), I will stop my ignorant complaints, for knowledge has filled the void of ignorance and to go about my days in wonderment as before, would be to act the fool.  ‘Oi Vay’… a tired fool is the worst of its kind!  And we don’t need a translator for that–she looks the same in any language! 😉  No, that will not be me.  I will attempt to embrace the fatigue and contemplate it no more.

“the sweet surrender to Norm”

**for those of you receiving this update on iphone or through email, I do have a youtube song attachment included.  …Enjoy!

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Who’s That Girl?

19 May

I have found myself, of late, with some extra time on my hands…actually, in my schedule.  Periodically I will have one day in the week, sometimes two back to back, where the square box on the monthly calendar is literally blank.  Now mind you, there is ALWAYS work needing to be done even when the scheduler is devoid of listed appointments.  Such as papers awaiting an organizational interlude, laundry (not just clothes, linens and towels too) in need of soap and water, walls so smudged they are doubling as finger-printing devices, dust bunnies multiplying as often as their animalia counterpart, weeds, weeds, and more weeds always awaiting their demise (though they are, more often than not, winning the battle), windows and mirrors longing, begging, aching for a nominal assertion of ‘spit and polish’, AND many more perfunctory tasks that if I don’t stop listing them now will, I fear, cause me to lose my reading audience.  For the mere listing of them will remind one, perhaps two-three-or four, readers of a mundane chore awaiting their attention as well.

Yet regardless of the ever present occupations, the ones that call to me regularly, there are days when the outside forces, which pull me from my domesticity, are quieted.  And when I come upon one such day, and in choosing to ignore the aforementioned “to do’s” , I find myself wondering…Who am I anymore?…

  • Do I still like swimming in the ocean?
  • Why am I not wanting to go rowing?
  • Why am I enjoying the quiet so much?
  • What do I ‘enjoy’ eating?
  • Do I like swimming?
  • Do I still like roller coasters?
  • Am I interested in finishing my undergraduate degree?
  • Where would I like to work if I had to go out and get a job?
  • Am I going to be able to handle old age?
  • Do I like gardening?
  • Do I still like hiking?
  • Should I keep my hair short, or grow it out long again?
  • Am I inspired?
  • If I didn’t live where I am living, where would I want to live?
  • Why am I not motivated to get my bicycle tires fixed?
  • Why do I always want to get lost in IKEA?
  • How do I avoid using words such as: so, all, got, and, but, etc.
  • When will I again be ready to read a novel, short story, or play?

The contemplations above are nothing compared to the strange phenomenon that comes over me when I spend the first part of the day piddling around the house.  The phenom being, I lose ALL motivation to leave it (it being my home).  In fact, I have had to drudge up some serious creativity just to execute a proper meal for my family–as a result of forgoing the trip to the grocery store because leaving the house was too daunting a task.  Additionally, I have had fantasies of visiting varying friends, on my ‘calendar-free’ days, only to lose the ambition when the day actually presents the opportunity.  And yes, I realize this past year has been a full spectrum run of events; but don’t you think I should be higher functioning by now?  Especially as I have been given several days of rest from time to time?  Especially as Cole is more capable and independent (in his self-care)?  Well regardless of your answer, I personally feel I should be at a higher level of energy…at the very least I desire a higher level of functionality.

Even so, with bereft vigor, I do what I must and is necessary to keep order and semblance of a productive life.  All the while unable to evade my own introspection…who’s that girl, running around with you?  And though I share my ruminations, you need not trouble yourselves in attempt to procure for me a resolution.  I assure you, I will find her.  She is not far off I think, only slightly derailed…perhaps a bit exhausted. 😉

P.s. My musings are inward focused and not to be projected, in any manner, toward any one individual outside of myself.

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