Which, incidentally, has nothing to do with this picture. But it might have to do with being chased by people in Speedos from the Blue Man Group. Wow. Put those away.
It’s amazing how regulated weight control is when you’re administered morphine and you proceed to throw up for the next 24 hours.
On the up-side, I’m starting to feel human again (thanks for the good wishes!). I seriously never thought a person could sleep as much as I did. I’m not even sure what I was taking, but I tell you what– I’m not happy that I had to go to the ER since my Doctor couldn’t see me for a week and since Urgent Care has worse hours than the doctor whose schedule is too full.
I actually walked from the Urgent Care building to the ER down the street because getting in and out of the vehicle was the worst ever.
Things like this TOTALLY make you appreciate health and mobility. Cripes. I miss doing laundry. How sick is that? Laundry! I actually did an invalid’s touchdown dance when I spiked a fork into the dishwasher basket and ran a load of dishes.
That’s right, bad back! You may have made my trips to the bathroom last 2 hours for the hobbling, but my golly, those drugs… ahhh… those beautiful drugs…
I love the doctor and the ER nurses and attendants who didn’t poke me with needles (save for the morphine pokes), who congratulated me on my weight loss and who gave me medications whose names I can’t even pronounce.
I am so happy I can schmootz.
My neighbor called me on the phone to tell me about her friend with a spelt cook book. I’ll be taking the next few days looking at spelt and its role in low-carbing. I am hearing from people now who have written cook books like our friend Sugar Free Sheila and I’m always interested in meeting new people who are also trying to make a difference in the world, through cooking, education and other forms of activism.
A friend in the comments section here asked me if I am gluten-intolerant. I think I would say that while I’m not celiac, I do experience adverse reactions to wheat and rice. I usually end up with ‘crawling legs’ and have a really hard time sleeping that night as a direct result. My nose tends to run, and anymore I don’t have the symptoms of congestion I used to. I have to say that in terms of these things I am definitely intolerant to wheat.
Why the gluten-intolerant markers then on the recipes if it’s not necessarily for me? There seem to be more and more folks who are intolerant to wheat, and as a mom with a son who I thought was gluten intolerant/celiac (before realizing he’s actually autistic), I was astounded to find wheat in everything, from tomato soup to other items I assumed wouldn’t have wheat.
As a result, and because the food pyramid loves itself some wheat, I make an extra effort to try and cater to food intolerances, whether it is wheat or caseins. I am still learning quite a bit about substitutions for cheeses in recipes, but thanks to readers and friends pointing me in the right direction, I’ll be able to write more about this as well.
So, while I myself may not suffer from an actual gluten intolerance to the horrific extremes others do, I still have trouble seeing wheat as a healthy and prominent part of the American Diet. I’ll continue to work to educate people about healthy substitutes for wheat.
Oopsie rolls are only the beginning. Still, isn’t it nice to be able to have ‘bread’?
Today it’s cold, so I’ll be making a cauliflower crust pizza. Planning ahead will help keep me on the path to health. I don’t even like regular bready pizza crust anymore, knowing that the vegetables are not only incredibly healthy, but I don’t notice them.
Funny thing about some people
A different neighbor is an interesting person, but she is really unusually mentally busy (I usually see her, smile and nod, as I’m hurrying along) (rather hurriedly) (for reasons of hurriedness). She really is a nice person (I am sure), and her busybody ways are not necessarily a bad thing (she’s the neighborhood chattychat and the one who feels that if she doesn’t introduce you to everyone else then someone else is honing in on her duty to be in the middle of everything),but she talks a lot, and sometimes doesn’t like listening to what others have to say, unless it’s information she can pass along to others (meaning about you). She talked to me for an hour about herself, how she rescued a dog that then got away, and her family and about her kids playing sports in state tournaments (something I’m proud of them for. They’re great kids.). When the topic momentarily segued, I told her about what I do and how I’ve been successful with my family in our health changes, and she suddenly had to run, and she wasn’t at all interested, as she said, “well, bye!” and the dial tone responded. I could hear the facial twitching on her end of the phone when I must have forced her to endure 45+ seconds of personal happy news which was similar to hers.
Now, I’m not a person who seriously doesn’t brag or talk about myself to my friends because I’d rather hear what they’re talking about, and hello? I’m not that exciting. Mentioning less than one minute of health woohoos for my family on my end and suddenly she had to run after an hour of honestly my listening to her go on and on about everything from her rescuing a dog to asking me about bus schedules to going on and on about her kids and their sports. I mention in passing that I’ve lost almost 70 pounds following a whole-foods eating plan and now enjoy discussing what you’re learning with the world, and it’s no longer about her–so she has to go. Click.
Mentioning healthy, whole eating to someone who is making tortilla soup and is sure she’s right and I’m wrong is like telling Pamela Lee she would be happy with a B-cup.
She’s always been a little peculiar. I used to mess with her (a little) because she was really concerned with what I would do–and would tell me all about it. She was concerned that my 14 year old was home alone for an hour once. She feels badly for one of my kids playing an unusual instrument because it must be hard being different. She would call me about me leaving lights on around the house all night, so I would leave them on in one room for a night. Then I’d change to a new room. And then another. And in the middle of the conversation, when she would ask me why I did something, I’d say, “Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.” Then I’d cover the mouthpiece and say, “No. The body should go over there. The wind blows easterly. Avoid detection.”
I know we can’t pick our neighbors. But they’re good for material occasionally.
Cabinets Mean More Room For Fun
The picture at the top of the page isn’t very sexy, but over 300″ of new linear cabinet space is so exciting I’ve taken to considering alphabetizing ingredients. My hunky hubby spent the last two weekends prepping and hanging more cabinets for me in our older kitchen. Initially, the kitchen was an eat-in, and later occupants added base cabinets and left the walls bare. This resulted in a lot of storage space, but not nearly enough, especially with those piddly little cabinets.
I’d been spending entirely too much time in bed or in the pool trying to remove pressur
e from my back and feel like a total bum for doing nothing to help him out with these, and he did a fantastic job: he matched the stain perfectly by mixing together two colors in separate coats, and re-sanded some of the cabinets at least twice. I felt so badly, but the new cabinets are the best ever!
Notice how the previous owners used floorboards as a backstop for the counter top? You should see some of the incredibly odd upgrades that they were really proud of (like using glue where actual fasteners like screws usually are meant to be).
I’m afraid one morning I’ll wake up to a view of the sky. From my bed.