I have really enjoyed becoming part of the gluten-free blog community with my sister-in-law Melanie. It's been so fun to get emails from people newly (and not so newly) diagnosed celiac, answer their questions, and generally hand-feed them recipes we have found to be tasty for The Celiac People.
I have also loved becoming part of a community of niche bloggers that are joining the same cause of sharing their findings for the sake of just sharing. We have found friendly commenters and sidebar linkers generous in their blog-friendships. I am so glad I take a little time out of my personal life to snap a shot of some food and post it on a regular basis. I am most glad for Melanie's contributions because she actually knows how to cook and does it well. Thanks to her, we don't have to have tacos for dinner every night.
That said, this post is for Gluten Free Gobsmacked who tagged us to write about eight things you might not know. Here is my list:
1) As a kid I refused jelly on my PB&J, loved to drink the pickle juice from the jar, and put ketchup on my mashed potatoes.
2) I crack my knuckles when I am nervous. And tuck my hair behind my ear when I blush.
3) I am more comfortable entering a room/group full of men than I am a room/group full of women.
4) I was a lot more fun to be around before I became a mother.
5) I have never been drunk.
6) I always wished I had brown eyes (mine are blue) and knew my whole life I would marry a man who had them.
7) I love the scent of rubber cement, a perm, gasoline, fresh box of crayons, film development chemicals.
8) Someday I am going to have the time available in my life to dedicate myself to a band and we are going to record something awesome. I will be the drummer. I hope my husband will be the bass player.
8.31.2007
8.30.2007
we get to live our lives now
I was not even an occasional reader of Erma Bombeck, but there was a list that crossed my desk at work once via email I have never forgotten. It was a piece she wrote after she found out she had cancer. She essentially beat that, but later died due to complications with a kidney transplant.
Her words below remind me to not worry about the little things and enjoy life more.
Her list is why I was able to invite a friend over for brownies this week even though my sink was filled with dirty dishes and my kitchen floor still needed to be mopped.
My day was much better spent visiting with a friend instead of cleaning the way I do (almost) every day.
If I Had My Life To Live Over
by Erma Bombeck
I would have gone to bed when I was sick, instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for the day.
I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.
I would have talked less and listened more.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.
I would have eaten the popcorn in the ‘good’ living room, and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television – and more while watching life.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn’t show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I’d have cherished every moment, and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.”
There would have been more “I love you’s.”. More “I'm sorry’s”.
But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute ... look at it and really see it ... live it ... and never give it back.
Her words below remind me to not worry about the little things and enjoy life more.
Her list is why I was able to invite a friend over for brownies this week even though my sink was filled with dirty dishes and my kitchen floor still needed to be mopped.
My day was much better spent visiting with a friend instead of cleaning the way I do (almost) every day.
If I Had My Life To Live Over
by Erma Bombeck
I would have gone to bed when I was sick, instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for the day.
I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.
I would have talked less and listened more.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.
I would have eaten the popcorn in the ‘good’ living room, and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television – and more while watching life.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn’t show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I’d have cherished every moment, and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.”
There would have been more “I love you’s.”. More “I'm sorry’s”.
But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute ... look at it and really see it ... live it ... and never give it back.
8.29.2007
i really need to write about something else already
You know when you are in line for a roller coaster ride, a huge one, and you wonder why you got in line for it. The people you are with are all playing it cool and chatting it up while your stomach is twisted in knots and you want to puke. You hear the people screaming as the cars whiz past you at lightening speed, but you still stand in line talking your lunch into staying down and trying to relax and pretend it's going to be fun. Even though you are still trying to figure out how the hell you got in this line to begin with.
It's finally time to pick a car, you choose blue and pull the safety bar down. Now that you committed to riding this damn thing, you actually find yourself excited. You can't sit still from jittery nerves, you tap your toes and can't stop smiling as you hold tightly to the bar over your lap.
Then it starts to move and you think of going down that big drop, how you will scream and smile and throw your hands up in the air with sheer exhilaration while having the piss scared out of you.
You hear the click, click, click as you are going up. Seems a lot higher than you imagined, but you're totally stoked. At this point the excitement has far outweighed the fear.
Then the ride stops before you get to look down and see the drop. The car starts creeping backwards, slowly, to the starting line. You have to get out of the car and get back in line while other people take your place who were waiting in line behind you.
Like the sweet Indian family who rode the elevator up with me to the labor and delivery floor last night. She got to be induced yesterday and I got to go back home to wait in line. Again.
***
I just know when I finally get admitted and settled for the long haul it will be 1966 again, a love as big as Wembley. I will have my fists in the air shouting GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!
It's finally time to pick a car, you choose blue and pull the safety bar down. Now that you committed to riding this damn thing, you actually find yourself excited. You can't sit still from jittery nerves, you tap your toes and can't stop smiling as you hold tightly to the bar over your lap.
Then it starts to move and you think of going down that big drop, how you will scream and smile and throw your hands up in the air with sheer exhilaration while having the piss scared out of you.
You hear the click, click, click as you are going up. Seems a lot higher than you imagined, but you're totally stoked. At this point the excitement has far outweighed the fear.
Then the ride stops before you get to look down and see the drop. The car starts creeping backwards, slowly, to the starting line. You have to get out of the car and get back in line while other people take your place who were waiting in line behind you.
Like the sweet Indian family who rode the elevator up with me to the labor and delivery floor last night. She got to be induced yesterday and I got to go back home to wait in line. Again.
***
I just know when I finally get admitted and settled for the long haul it will be 1966 again, a love as big as Wembley. I will have my fists in the air shouting GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!
8.27.2007
tick. tick. tick.
Me and the milk share the same due date today.
So...I know many of you reading have either been through the transition to two + kids or have watched other people (friends/ relatives) make the transition. I would love your advice- it's completely solicited today. But only today.
The best I have heard so far (thanks Peyta) is that your first is always your first. It's the only role they have known, so take care of their needs first, where possible, and then tend to the next one. I hear it also cuts down on that two kids crying at the same time bit.
So...I know many of you reading have either been through the transition to two + kids or have watched other people (friends/ relatives) make the transition. I would love your advice- it's completely solicited today. But only today.
The best I have heard so far (thanks Peyta) is that your first is always your first. It's the only role they have known, so take care of their needs first, where possible, and then tend to the next one. I hear it also cuts down on that two kids crying at the same time bit.
8.25.2007
doomsday
I wish I had the energy, time, and resources to start a positive news website. I hate checking CNN every day because it reminds me this world is burning to oblivion and the end is near. Which isn't necessarily the case, awesome things and miracles happen all the time. I want to hear about those, too. The uplifting things that make you smile, not the tragic stuff of people burning in hot air balloons. While that sucks for the dead and their loved ones, and while it's a random twist of events that doesn't happen so often, it doesn't need all the coverage it's getting.
There have to be other stories more amazing to report on. I am sure there was a little baby somewhere who survived a major surgery and recovered in ways that can only be explained as a miracle.
Perhaps there is a Hollywood couple madly in love and celebrating lots of years of marriage with no suspicion of infidelity.
A new family moving into a home built by Habitat for Humanity.
A major medical discovery that will bring hope to a disease that needs a cure.
A child adopted into a loving family.
Teenagers making right decisions and participating in the community.
We really do live in a place where lots of things are going alright and not falling apart. While I am aware it is important to have an awareness of the world around me, especially some of the bad, the negative doesn't need to dominate the headlines every single day.
I know, I need to shut it and just watch Oprah.
There have to be other stories more amazing to report on. I am sure there was a little baby somewhere who survived a major surgery and recovered in ways that can only be explained as a miracle.
Perhaps there is a Hollywood couple madly in love and celebrating lots of years of marriage with no suspicion of infidelity.
A new family moving into a home built by Habitat for Humanity.
A major medical discovery that will bring hope to a disease that needs a cure.
A child adopted into a loving family.
Teenagers making right decisions and participating in the community.
We really do live in a place where lots of things are going alright and not falling apart. While I am aware it is important to have an awareness of the world around me, especially some of the bad, the negative doesn't need to dominate the headlines every single day.
I know, I need to shut it and just watch Oprah.
8.24.2007
SS
If I was a boy I would totally have the biggest crush on Sarah Silverman and pretty much stalk her until she agreed to marry me. Or at least agreed to be my best friend. Good thing I am not a boy or Mike would be so screwed taking care of the 2 kids while I took on a new identity as a stalker. And boy would he have one hell of a time trying to nurse the new one.
She's just hilariously inapprorpiate.
Note to my mother and mother-in-law, you will probably not find he movie clips available at this website very funny. Fair warning.
She's just hilariously inapprorpiate.
Note to my mother and mother-in-law, you will probably not find he movie clips available at this website very funny. Fair warning.
New season starting October 3rd at Comedy Central.
8.23.2007
cheers!
So....I have been thinking a lot about this whole breastfeeding situation. How reluctant I was to the idea of me doing it initially. No, sicked out is the more accurate description.
I will never forget leaving the parking garage from the hospital with Mike after we attended their breastfeeding class during my final trimester with my first pregnancy. I burst into tears of guilt for feeling so awkward about the idea of using that certain area of my sacred body to feed another person. An area that truthfully lured my husband's interested eyes into dating me (I swear he is not a perv, he liked a lot of other things about me too!). It's just that it's a section of the female frame that, whether we like it or not, is a sexual part of our lives as women.
And while I understood the best thing for my baby to drink would be breast milk and the class did a great job of emphasizing this, it still felt like we were a bunch of strangers sitting in a room watching soft-core porn. DOZENS of boobs openly exposed on the t.v. left me feeling rather uncomfortable. Because when else in your life do you sit in a room full of men and women you have never met and watch boobs? Um, never. So all of a sudden it's alright and normal, natural? I didn't think so.
It wasn't until my final weeks of pregnancy that I began to feel maternal and imagined my chest as just a couple of straws. I would have to trick my brain if I really wanted to give nursing a shot. This was what helped my mind prepare myself to becoming a feeding machine, nothing short of a human with udders, I mean, straws.
It went smoothly, not too painful and not as awkward as I thought. I even became that mother who nursed in public without a second thought. As for the videos, I was immediately reminded of each technique demonstrated when I was trying to figure it out with my baby. I admit that it was helpful to have seen the women in that video latch and unlatch. The advice from that class was probably the most beneficial of all received for my transition to Mommy.
When I have been around others who are nursing their newborns I have come to realize it still feels strange to the me who isn't actually at a nursing stage of my life. The idea of someone's exposed chest just makes me want to escape. It's just so bizarre to the non-nursing person that boobs are okay to be pulled out when a kid is involved, right in the middle of conversation. Now I guess I know how non-nursing people feel when they were/ will be around me during a feeding. Hey, what was I saying cos your boob is out and I really don't want to see it and now someone is eating from it and this is strange.
And I am about to become that lady in the conversation busting out a straw for my kid and thinking not much about it. And that's strange to me in my mind. Even though I know it will feel all natural and normal and necessary in the moment. I guess the best way to describe the transition is like all of a sudden they are just like our elbows. Or temporary prosthetic attachments (i.e. the straw idea works well this way). Completely unsexual in nature and thoroughly available for nonstop baby feeding. Which leads to excited visits to the pediatrician letting you know your baby is thriving. Then you feel like a rock star cos no one else can make that baby thrive the way mama's milk can.
I will never forget leaving the parking garage from the hospital with Mike after we attended their breastfeeding class during my final trimester with my first pregnancy. I burst into tears of guilt for feeling so awkward about the idea of using that certain area of my sacred body to feed another person. An area that truthfully lured my husband's interested eyes into dating me (I swear he is not a perv, he liked a lot of other things about me too!). It's just that it's a section of the female frame that, whether we like it or not, is a sexual part of our lives as women.
And while I understood the best thing for my baby to drink would be breast milk and the class did a great job of emphasizing this, it still felt like we were a bunch of strangers sitting in a room watching soft-core porn. DOZENS of boobs openly exposed on the t.v. left me feeling rather uncomfortable. Because when else in your life do you sit in a room full of men and women you have never met and watch boobs? Um, never. So all of a sudden it's alright and normal, natural? I didn't think so.
It wasn't until my final weeks of pregnancy that I began to feel maternal and imagined my chest as just a couple of straws. I would have to trick my brain if I really wanted to give nursing a shot. This was what helped my mind prepare myself to becoming a feeding machine, nothing short of a human with udders, I mean, straws.
It went smoothly, not too painful and not as awkward as I thought. I even became that mother who nursed in public without a second thought. As for the videos, I was immediately reminded of each technique demonstrated when I was trying to figure it out with my baby. I admit that it was helpful to have seen the women in that video latch and unlatch. The advice from that class was probably the most beneficial of all received for my transition to Mommy.
When I have been around others who are nursing their newborns I have come to realize it still feels strange to the me who isn't actually at a nursing stage of my life. The idea of someone's exposed chest just makes me want to escape. It's just so bizarre to the non-nursing person that boobs are okay to be pulled out when a kid is involved, right in the middle of conversation. Now I guess I know how non-nursing people feel when they were/ will be around me during a feeding. Hey, what was I saying cos your boob is out and I really don't want to see it and now someone is eating from it and this is strange.
And I am about to become that lady in the conversation busting out a straw for my kid and thinking not much about it. And that's strange to me in my mind. Even though I know it will feel all natural and normal and necessary in the moment. I guess the best way to describe the transition is like all of a sudden they are just like our elbows. Or temporary prosthetic attachments (i.e. the straw idea works well this way). Completely unsexual in nature and thoroughly available for nonstop baby feeding. Which leads to excited visits to the pediatrician letting you know your baby is thriving. Then you feel like a rock star cos no one else can make that baby thrive the way mama's milk can.
8.22.2007
potassium salt of tartaric acid
Still here, even after a little false alarm that provided an opportunity for us to do a full-on dress rehearsal that landed us back at home. With that, I will share a little memory that made me laugh to/at myself this week.
----
It's no secret I am not so talented in the kitchen. He knew this going into the courting experience as I attempted several botched meals he choked down with a smile or even helped me salvage to an edible state. We are okay with my lack of cooking skills, it has given us much opportunity in our marriage to laugh.
Early in our marriage I once was attempting to try a new recipe from a cookbook, something I had not tried to do before. It called for several ingredients I did not have, some I had never used before. I wrote these ingredients on my grocery list in addition to the rest of our regular needs. I felt excited for the planning and prep I normally didn't spend time doing before shopping, I felt like a successfully organized wife!
Upon my return Mike perused the bags and commented eagerly on this snack and that, little suprises he would be excited to eat throughout the week. As I put things away he got REALLY excited about me getting shrimp. With our food budget at the time, that would have certainly been a big luxury. Confused, I asked what he was talking about. I had not put shrimp in the cart, nor did I bag it or place it into the car. I saw he was holding up the jar of Tartar Sauce I did buy and assumed I got shrimp for it.
I replied, "No, it's this new recipe I am trying out this week. It calls for Cream of Tartar but the closest thing I could find was tartar sauce. Same thing, right?"
----
It's no secret I am not so talented in the kitchen. He knew this going into the courting experience as I attempted several botched meals he choked down with a smile or even helped me salvage to an edible state. We are okay with my lack of cooking skills, it has given us much opportunity in our marriage to laugh.
Early in our marriage I once was attempting to try a new recipe from a cookbook, something I had not tried to do before. It called for several ingredients I did not have, some I had never used before. I wrote these ingredients on my grocery list in addition to the rest of our regular needs. I felt excited for the planning and prep I normally didn't spend time doing before shopping, I felt like a successfully organized wife!
Upon my return Mike perused the bags and commented eagerly on this snack and that, little suprises he would be excited to eat throughout the week. As I put things away he got REALLY excited about me getting shrimp. With our food budget at the time, that would have certainly been a big luxury. Confused, I asked what he was talking about. I had not put shrimp in the cart, nor did I bag it or place it into the car. I saw he was holding up the jar of Tartar Sauce I did buy and assumed I got shrimp for it.
I replied, "No, it's this new recipe I am trying out this week. It calls for Cream of Tartar but the closest thing I could find was tartar sauce. Same thing, right?"
8.21.2007
fuzzy
I need some warm fuzzies today, so I thought I would spend a moment highlighting some recent happy moments.
1) For my birthday present this year I told my husband I want 24 hours to myself outside of the house where I would not be in charge of making or cleaning food for anyone else. I wanted to have 24 hours of no responsibility. Nothingness. I didn't care if it was a 24 hour round-trip train ride or solitude confinement. I just wanted a calm before my pending storm of changing life. We worked together on a plan and landed with my sister and I in an awesome hotel in Union Sqaure in San Francisco. I would recommend such a break for everyone.
My sister flew out to take my mommy break with me in July. We slept in, shopped, ate food prepared by the hands of other people, and tended to ZERO children. Not only was it an awesome break, but we got to have uninterrupted sister time to laugh and talk in ways we have not had the opportunity to do in years.
2) My friends. They rock. They took me out for a yummy Thai dinner and delicious diner dessert to celebrate my unborn baby. We laughed the night away and shared stories about everything. I got a special arrangement of bright flowers and a generous gift certificate to H&M. None was expected or necessary, so it all made me feel so loved and supported. I love that I don't believe any of them shop at H&M, but they knew me well enough to know that's where I like to get my baby clothes and even suggested that I splurge on myself after I have the baby. It feels good to have friends to laugh with, that know me, and are thinking about me. I hope I am just as good of a friend to each of them; and to my far away friends as well.
3) Two friends I rarely talk to called me to check in. My friend Debra in FL and my older neighbor across the street (who was a bit nuts about my lemons earlier this year, but I forgive). It just felt so good to be thought of randomly when I least expected a call. On both conversations we shared stories and laughed and just checked in with each others' lives. I need to initiate those kinds of calls myself more often.
I don't know why, but waiting to give birth has been such a lonely feeling lately. I guess because no one else can do it for me or really tell me exactly how it's going to go. It's nice to remind myself lots of people do this, hey we all got here by being birthed! It's no big deal, right? Then why am I so scared.
8.19.2007
waiting for guffman
Here are various photos I have collected from different months this year. It's a sad wardrobe collection for the most part.
===
===
Early December: Not aware yet that we are expecting. I can't wait to get back into those jeans.
*
January: The only photo of me the whole month is my nap with Zane.
*
February: This was my favorite regular shirt, we miss each other terribly
*
March: Loved H&M shopping in larger size. Hated them for not having maternity in CA.
*
April: What would become my fav maternity shirt, even after it got a hole in it.
*
May: My favorite skirt ever- cjane will know the love.
*
June: Comfort officially takes precedence over appearance. My shirt is like 3x too big.
*
July: Oh, how I wore this shirt thin.
*
August: Stick a fork in me, this kid is done cooking.
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