Food

I like food, who doesn’t? I am no Betty Crocker, but I sometimes take pictures of my food. I sometimes cook awesome stuff and take pictures of that, too. Mostly, I try to make sure I feed my family at least once a day.

A life worth putting on chicken salad…..

As I may have mentioned before, I tend to overload my plate at the buffet of life. I mean, everything just looks SO GOOD! How can I not volunteer for this thing, or cook something for that person, or take just a SMIDGE of that evening with friends with just a dollop of work, school and kids? I mean…YUM. Right? Ugh…but then I get the side effects of a life too piled high and that’s never good. I have not been blogging for quite awhile but felt the tug to come back. I like this place, it’s nice here and I didn’t want to waste the awesome graphics a lovely, talented friend made for me. So here I am.

The KidsThe children are bigger. That tends to happen over time, whether we want it to or not. They’re still cute and I’m still keeping them alive. Mostly.

Girl Child is 8, and terrifying. The Boy Child is 2 and terrifying in a completely different way. They are funny and smart and hate having their picture taken. I prefer to film them being “bad.” Don’t want to give the impression that things are always smooth and easy, ya know?

So, speaking of smooth and easy, let’s get to the point of why I’m here today. What brought me back to ye olde blogge. (What?)

It probably started with the “food experiment.” It was not a diet it was an attempt to get back to feeling human. Many of you have probably heard of the “Whole30” food plan? Maybe not. It’s pretty awesome, now that I’ve made it through unscathed, I can say that. I did the extreme (EXTREME!) autoimmune elimination variety of the plan in an attempt to cut the inflammation in my body, banish my arthritis pain, shed some pounds and some fatigue and get back to some kind of starting point from 10, maybe 15 years ago when I maybe can remember feeling even moderately human. Story of your life, right? Long story short, I did it and it worked (for me). I feel oodles better and it also yanked me out of a cooking rut where a can of Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom soup poured over anything and cooked was good enough to call “dinner.” Bonus points if I could put it in a tortilla (to fill diversity requirements). So, of course, being me…my newfound energy and better health had me piling things back on my plate. I’m running more (we loves the running) but I’ve moved into the woods and stick to more trails than pavement. It’s quiet and soft there. But that also means I’ve put my toe in the world of ultra running – anything longer than a marathon distance. What’s that you say? I need meds? Maybe. I’ve never even run a marathon? Maybe not. I’m not worried. I’ll let you know how that all turns out in February (yes, February who wants to run in the HEAT, bleh).

So, again, what’s the point? Why am I blogging today? Emotions. That’s why. Another thing I learned through doing my food experiment (not a diet, that food was delicious and plentiful!) Was the emotional hold I let food have, that we all pretty much let food have on us. It’s so strong! Anytime I had to write a paper or stress-grade a pile of papers or finish a big project on deadline, I made sure I had a GIANT ASS bag of Halloween candy beside me and I made sure I ATE THE WHOLE DAMN THING. Yes – all of it. IT’S MIIIIIIIINE!!!! I’d hide it from the kids, I’d raid their old Halloween

I don't care how bad they are, they're goooood.

I don’t care how bad they are, they’re goooood.

stashes because they never eat it (because they are smart, good little children and Momma puts the buckets on top of the fridge to be forgotten by tiny people). So, today upon receiving the news that my dissertation data collection had failed for the SECOND TIME and my light at the end of the tunnel was promptly stomped out and blown to bits, I wistfully looked out my office window toward the nearby Starbucks and imagined myself in the alley behind the cute little tudor-style building, guzzling pumpkin spice lattes (they’re out TODAY – all you PSL haters just SHUSH UP) and devouring their Frappuccino sugar cookies like a coked out Cookie-Monster-Golem-beast. MY PREEEEECIOUS!

But think about it. When something goes wrong I typically react with “I need a beer/wine/cookie/SUGAR.” Whoa, did I just create a new thing? Beerwinesugarcookies? Ok, that’s for another post. Let’s get back to the matter at hand. I don’t think it’s wrong to want to comfort with food, but I am definitely seeing the downsides to

Pretty Food

Pretty Food

it. For me (not for everyone) it means I can’t control the inflammation in my body and I have to rely more on things like steroids and other medicines to control my autoimmune disorders. Again, this is not the case for all. I found that picturing myself as the Cookie-Monster-Golem-Beast helped to dissuade myself from giving in. And really, isn’t this food so much prettier?!

Made some mayo.

Made some mayo.

The moral of the story. Make your own mayonnaise. Because even if it’s gross, it was fun and you can take selfies. And now for the “whoa” moment. Why mayo? Because mayo is all about balance as should life. You have to have the right amount of everything, you have pour slowly and everything has to blend. Emulsify your life! Go slow and blend well – if balanced you will have a life worth putting on chicken salad. 🙂

Why don’t I know how to cook meatloaf?

I know a lot of things, but I cannot remember how to make meatloaf, or mac and cheese (yes out of a box) or that really yummy rice and cream of mushroom soup or anything simple and of the comfort food variety. Ok, I can make spaghetti without looking up a recipe, but that’s about it. Why? Why can I not remember how to make meatloaf? I mean it’s meat, in a loaf, that’s about it. EVERY. TIME. I have to look up the recipe, every time. It’s the same with

Not THAT Meat Loaf

making hardboiled eggs. I am convinced things like everyday recipes, social security numbers, children’s birthdays (yes, don’t judge) and the time you scheduled for parent teacher conferences are never going to be remembered or stored conveniently for recall because at least for me, I know the words to every song every played on the radio. This amazingly useful skill (if you happen to be a bar singer), I’m convinced is why I cannot remember anything actually useful in life. I have to text my mother every time I want to cook meatloaf, or chili (it’s just a bunch of cans, dump in crock pot, viola! Seriously, WHY?) or the cornbread she makes with her chili. Yes, I’ve written them down but while recalling the awesome lyrics to an obscure Fleetwood Mac song, I have forgotten where I put the damn recipes. I cannot download these lyrics, I can’t seem to file them in archives in the back where I can forget about them for awhile…just hasn’t happened. Someday, someday it will be useful. I am convinced someday I will get on that show with Wayne Brady, which is probably not on anymore (we don’t have cable) and I’ll totally win. I always won at home. The kicker? I can’t sing for beans. I can’t even sing in the key of Me. It’s bad. My sister-in-law actually threw up in her mouth a little while on a road trip with me and my daughter as I croooooned away to our awesome road trip playlist. I still haven’t forgiven her, everyone in her family is grotesquely musically gifted. I married in, it didn’t transfer. My husband now at least allows me to sing at church, as politely as he can. He weakly claims I am “getting a little better..”