Archive for the ‘food’ Category

Redirected, Day 16

It’s been over two weeks since I got the news I already knew.

It’s been over two weeks since I decided to be the proof of what I say I believe.

It’s been over two weeks since I consumed dairy of any kind, and my only sugar has consisted of extremely small quantities of raw honey.

It’s been no less than five trips to my cool chiropractor dude in Amarillo.

It’s been no less than 20 cucumbers, 30 tomatoes, 25 avocados, a dozen bell peppers, 10 each cantaloupe and onions, 6 heads of garlic, 3 dozen lemons, and at least four heads of broccoli.

My cutting board and I are having an affair. I see more of it than my sweet hubby nowadays.

Oh….and I’ve nurtured 4 batches of home grown sprouts…

My chickens are making wonderfully nourished eggs from all the veggie scraps.

I have learned that not everything that should be good for me is. It seems food has energy, and sometimes my own energy treats otherwise healthy foods as if they are suspicious strangers.

I muscle check every new food I put into my body. I also keep a food diary and have my chiropractor check for any sensitivities. It’s really fun when he expects me to react to something and I don’t.

It’s not nearly as much fun when I want add something and he says no…..or rather my body says no.

There is no grapefruit, cilantro, cumin, or flax on this adventure. There are also no nuts or seeds….except Brazils. For some reason my crazy self is okay with Brazils, but I can’t handle almonds, walnuts, pecans, cashews, or even sunflower or pumpkin seeds.

It’s sorta complicated.

Why in the world would I go to this much trouble? Because I want to prove that uterine fibroids are a symptom to be addressed, not a nuisance to be yanked out.

And I want to prove that a female body can be nourished back to peak health.

I am cheating a bit, however.

I went to see a naturopath today with my sonograms, blood work, and medical diagnosis in hand. She gave me wonderful things to take with promises of feeling much better soon.

She gave me a prescription for bioidentical progesterone. It seems I have none.  But then I already knew that. So did my husband and children.

She gave me Vitamin D3 drops and Vitamin B6 & B12 drops.

She gave me iodine. (Didn’t know about that one.)

She gave me cabbage in a pill. (Something about extract from cruciferous veggies.)

And she gave me thyroid stuff.

She muscle tested every one of them to determine the dosage. I think muscle testing is so cool.

She told me to stick with the diet and skip all animal protein.

She also nixed any soy. That narrows down the vegan cookbook selections.

She pulled out a little book by Louise Hay called Heal Your Body. I smiled because I already have that book.

She asked if I was familiar with tapping, also known as EFT.

Yes. Yes I am, and we’ll be tapping next time I go to see her.

The good news is this thing appears to be getting smaller.

That makes me happy. I would do a happy dance, but I don’t yet have enough red blood cells to dance without running out of breath.

I will soon, though. I will soon.

Redirected, Day 1

I was up until after midnight last night reading and processing the available information on nourishing my body back to health. It seems there are a number of considerations.

I need to detox.

I need to alkalize my internal environment.

I need to drastically improve my red blood count.

I have to decide what I will put in my body in what combinations and when.

I was awake at 6 AM this morning processing all that information. There were things to be done. There was filtered water to retrieve from the massage center next door. There was lemon to squeeze into said water. There was extra virgin olive oil to swallow.

That last one will make a person question how badly one desires healing.

I decided it was time to add walking to my morning routine, so I put on my tennis shoes and took a walk around the block. It’s actually more like 4 blocks. And with no significant quantities of O2 hitting the cells, it didn’t happen at a super fast pace.

That’s okay. At least it happened.

Then there was the post-walk vinegar-water drink to consume.

Breakfast was next on the agenda. Modified Huevos Rancheros. There were tomatoes to dice, onions to mince, and garlic to smash. A dash of olive oil in a skillet over moderate heat turned my veggie mixture into a warm, juicy topping for two gently-fried, sunny-side-up eggs plucked from the hens nest within the last two days.

The delicious aroma almost dragged my 14 year old out of bed. Almost.

The taste was pretty darn good, too. Why don’t I cook like this all the time?

Oh yeah….I’m a bit on the lazy side.

My flank steak for lunch needed a marinade, so I quickly threw that together, went next door to give a massage, and came right back to start chopping cabbage and shredding carrots for a modified coleslaw recipe. It seems healthy and healing bodies really like raw cabbage.

And yes, I used a cutting board and a knife to shred my cabbage…by hand…my hand.

FYI–I’m accepting donations for a really good food processor if anyone is feeling sorry for me yet.

Oh, and there was celery to prepare for my morning snack. The meal plan calls for almond butter, but my chiropractor indicated my body is not ready for nuts, so I made some hummus instead.

My Asian marinated flank steak was pretty darn good, and my coleslaw was edible.

More reading and information processing plus ordering a bottle of liquid iron supplement from, then my body demanded a nap, so I obliged it.

Post nap found me standing at the cutting board again. There was guacamole to make which means more tomato and onion dicing, lemon juicing, and avocado smooshing. Cucumbers needed slicing. Cantaloupe needed prepping. Squash for the grill had to be scrubbed and sliced.

I was busy.

Supper for me consisted of grilled turkey tenderloins, grilled squash, cucumbers and guacamole, and cantaloupe.

This is actually a pretty yummy way of life, and the chickens are eating quite well off of the trimmings and cuttings.

I’m wondering how in the world this is gonna work when I actually have a busy day and no time to shop, prep, and plan food.

Next up……figure out how to grow and juice wheat grass.

I’m now taking donations for the arse kicking (or in this case wheat grass smooshing) Omega juicer.



It’s funny how things come along in life to serve as a point of redirection.

Yesterday I got redirected.

Yesterday I was given the opportunity to decide whether or not I truly believe what I say I believe….

….about health, nutrition, wellness, medical intervention, and more.

Yesterday I learned that I have fabulous cholesterol levels. I also learned that as far as a sonogram is concerned, most of my internal organs look pretty good.

Most of them, anyway.

And most of my blood work was pretty good. Most of it….except the little detail of my hemoglobin–my almost non-existent hemoglobin. It seems a 6-point-something-or-other is a little low when ideal is 12-16. The doc commented that she was amazed I was even able to get up and walk around. Guess that explains some of the fatigue that’s been plaguing me lately. I just thought I was really out of shape.

Then there is the matter of my “baby”. It seems there is an alien thing growing inside and around my 44 year old incubator.

No, I’m not pregnant.

Thank God.

My diagnosis was basically exactly what I had already self-diagnosed and the reason I even went to see a traditional doc in the first place. I am exhibiting symptoms of a benign uterine fibroid. I had already decided I could manage one of those, although some things might have to change about my diet.

I had purchased the “Living with Fibroids” book, and  I had done lots of research before hand. I was pretty sure I could handle this.

The part I wasn’t counting on was just how big the fibroid collection turned out to be and the unexpected thickened endometrial lining they found. Seems I have 3 mm too much for comfort.

The medical approach in such cases is referral to a GYN for biopsy of the uterine lining and likely hysterectomy due to the size of the fibroid.

I am, after all, kicking out a good solid blood transfusion each month at this point.

And I mean it’s not like I’m gonna need that uterus to make more babies, right? So medical logic says let’s just cut that sucker out and eliminate the problem.

Except that doesn’t solve the underlying problem.

My diet and lifestyle have created this thing. Cutting it out isn’t going to solve all my problems. In fact, it will add a few to the mix. My hormones are already jinked up pretty badly. I’ve known this for a couple of years now, but I’ve procrastinated doing anything about it. I’m pretty sure cutting out an entire organ that contributes to what’s left of the production of natural hormones is probably not the greatest of ideas.

And the synthetic stuff is just totally scary.

I am not a horse.

Besides, where will the alien grow next if we cut out its host and don’t change the environment that’s supporting its growth?

After processing all of the information I have so far and considering things like the expense of surgery, I realized I was being given an opportunity. …

I preach that the body has the ability to totally heal itself if given the right nutritional and energetic support.

I watch people put their eggs entirely in the western medicine model of cut, slash, burn and shake my head in pity.

I am now faced with an opportunity to put my money where my mouth is.


I can totally change my diet and the internal environment of my body, or I can continue consuming things that deplete my body of life force energy.

I can nurture my girl parts back to vibrant health by using food and herbs as medicine, or I can let the whackers take my parts away forever.

I realize some people hit a point at which there isn’t an option left. Cutting the body  part off or out is sometimes the only option for survival. My heart breaks for them.

I, on the other hand, still have time and a choice.

On this fourth of July, 2012, my choice is eating cake and ice cream in celebration of my second daughter’s 18th birthday, or eating homemade guacamole and cucumbers. One feeds the alien. One feeds me. Once creates the acidic environment that encourages tumor growth. One provides the alkalinity to feed, nourish and repair damaged cells.

My game plan includes my MD, my chiropractor, a naturopath, a hormone-compounding pharmacist and quite likely an acupuncturist. Gotta get the iron depletion resolved immediately. I even have a game plan for that. Just gotta run it by the doc and see if she can find a way to make it happen.

It also includes an abundance of raw alkalizing foods….all of which have to be washed, sliced, prepped, and more. Broccoli and cabbage are my new best friends. Dairy, sugar, and anything with gluten are the enemy.

I think I have a new full time job.

Good thing I like guacamole and cucumbers.

Anyone for a big heaping bowl of coleslaw and a cup of herbal tea?


PS: I don’t need your prayers. God didn’t make me eat crap and God isn’t going to fix it for me by some miraculous intervention. I need your encouragement, positive energy, and an occasional batch of organic broccoli and carrots that I don’t have to take time to wash and cut up. I also need your massage business. Eating healthy isn’t exactly cheap. Much gratitude in advance.

Funeral Etiquette Fail

I’m writing funeral thank you’s this morning.

For the record, that’s one of my least favorite chores in any part of life. Funeral thank-you’s aren’t special. I’m pretty much inept at any type of written thank you. I mean, I can write a thank you that will knock your socks off, but odds are it will be so long after the actual good deed event occurred that you won’t even remember what you did to deserve a thank you.

Thank you writing ranks right up there with exercise, cleaning out my closets, and scrubbing my toilet and tub. I know it NEEDS to be done, but it probably won’t happen until the guilt of knowing I SHOULD do it overwhelms the laziness.

And as I write these thank you’s to the nice people who brought food to us in the days following the passing of my hawt man’s  86 year old dad, I can’t help but wonder if there is some sort of funeral thank you etiquette that I am stomping into the dirt.

Of course, this whole process has been an exercise in seeing how many traditionalist boats we can rock, so maybe I’m just an ongoing extension of that.

My oldest brother-in-law actually had some fun with the traditionalists.

I like my oldest b-i-l’s willingness to challenge expectation and tradition, so I’m sorta enjoying the ride. However, my paranoia meter is still pegging the max on occasion.

I think I have a few sista-in-laws right there with me.

Here’s a run down of a few of the traditions we may have smashed in the past few weeks:

1. Open casket. Nope. Not here. I find it funny how obsessed people are with evaluating the handiwork of the undertaker. Hawt Guy’s parents had made it very clear they didn’t want to be gawked at, and the boys did a very nice job of making sure that didn’t happen, much to the chagrin of a few of our older friends.

2. Flowers. My poor sis-in-law who used to own a flower shop kinda freaked when she realized there were pretty much NO flowers. None. Nadda. And yet, it totally worked for this situation. The boys took loads of family photos to the funeral home so everyone who came in could remember the living moments of happiness, energy, and handsome vitality rather than the immediate moment of the many ways age and ill health had taken its toll on the physical body. Those photos rendered the need for flowers completely irrelevant. No mums, roses, or carnations could possibly outdo the beauty of a young couple in love and their amazing family through the years.

Although I have to say, I was hoping to snag a free plant or two for my wellness center.

Fortunately someone loves me and gave me some overflow from their place.

POST BLOG PUBLISHING UPDATE: I completely missed the wreath sent by a guy that loves this family like his own. Fortunately, my hawt honey was paying attention. Thanks, Friend! You are the coolest.

3. Church. Nope. Not this go around. No rosary service. No aisles or pews. No suits and ties (at least none required). Just a few words of remembrance and encouragement out in the beautiful pasture that is Rose Hill Cemetery. Ten minutes from welcome to final amen. That’s exactly what Charlie would have wanted. Exactly.

4. And then there are the thank yous. I have a list of people who brought food to us at some point during the process. Some of them are friends of Hawt Guy and me (my? mine? us? I?) who barely know the rest of the family. A few fed us because they love our children and wanted to make sure the little hummingbirds had plenty of sugar to survive the days of being ignored by their parentals. Some are extended family both on Hawt Guy’s side and my side. Still others are from his dad’s associations and I don’t even know them.

It dawned on me about half way through the thank you list that maybe I should sign the cards with more than just Eric, Angie, & Girls. After all, there are a few other families on whose behalf I am thanking people. I promise we didn’t hog all the food just for our bunch.

Then I happened to notice the little blank space at the bottom of the front of the card and wondered if I was supposed to be writing in the name of our departed loved one.

You know….in case they don’t remember who just died and why they made that cake.

5. Sadness and grief. I think we probably failed miserably at this one. The Kleenex Corporation stock probably dropped for a few days from lack of consumption. I know the guys will have their moments of missing Charlie and remembering the way things used to be, however, this seemed more like a celebration of a life completed: Almost a bit of relief that his struggle is  over, the worry is over, and now we move on. He wasn’t ripped from us. He released us and we released him from his physical container. We get the memories. He gets his freedom. Not much sadness to scrape up when viewed like that.

And for the record, I have learned a lot in the past couple of weeks. It’s all good information, yet not exactly an area in which I want to become an expert. At least we  have some idea what to expect the next time we experience the process.

Maybe we’ll have figured out a few more rules of funeral etiquette we can break when that time comes. ;-)

Going Green—Are They Serious?

Yesterday, number one daughter and I were assassinating a bit of time during our extended lunch break at massage class. We cruised through a couple of stores in the strip mall, and ended up at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.

I LOVE that store. If I had a million dollars,  I could probably blow at least $750K of it right there in BB&B. My all-time best blender came from there. After blasting through and subsequently burning up no less than three of the Wally-World $30 blenders, I finally bit a bullet and plunked down $100 on a BB&B version.

….and I haven’t purchased a blender in two years now.

Of course, I really want one of those $750 blenders that will turn your garden into hot soup with the push of a button, but that will have to wait awhile.

But I digress.

So anyway, cruising the aisles of BB&B I stumbled my way through the small appliances because I love small appliances. That includes coffee makers, although I am having a coffee free summer this time around….except when I get a Starbucks Mocha Cappucchino urge while picking up PowerAdes for the horse camp. Then I have a coffee binge.

So anyway, cruising the aisles of BB&B amidst a sea of coffee makers, I noticed these shelves of cups. Hard, plastic cups. And in front of them is a “green” logo and a sign that says something to the effect that these hard plastic cups are the latest novelty. You can actually wash, rinse, and reuse them and help save the planet.


We are now marketing reusable drinking glasses as a new, green, environmentally friendly, and cost efficient way to consume a beverage.

Why the heck didn’t I think of that?

Oh wait. I did. They are called iced tea glasses and coffee mugs. Unfortunately I wasn’t the first on that deal, either.

Geez!  What’s next? Washable, reusable plates and flatware?

Back off! I called ’em first!

Tree Sex and Nature's Womb

The title might be a little over the top, yet there is something so amazing about a year in which nature outdoes herself in productivity.

This winter saw an abundance of snowfall in our region. The old timers say lots of snow is what the fruit trees love. I’m sayin’ lots of snow is what EVERYTHING loves.

Notice I didn’t say Every BODY. Plenty of people got really tired of the stuff this year. But the outcome of enduring that endless parade of snowfalls means we’ve got good things on the way.

There is a small plot of dryland wheat pasture just east of the Wellness Center. That means the farmer plants it, but its only water comes from the rain and snow over the winter. No wells. No irrigation ditches. No center pivot sprinkler system. Not even a strategically placed waterhose.  I’ve watched it for a couple of years now, and this is the first time since we’ve owned property over there that he’s had any success.

And it is GORGEOUS.

That’s my word for the day.


Saturday I heard the whir of something with an engine outside the wellness center windows. I looked out and someone had a swather in his wheat pasture laying out wind rows of freshly cut wheat hay to cure before baling it.

Mother Nature done good this time.

Then I started thinking about all those beautiful blossoms that had been gracing the trees with their GORGEOUS-ness a few weeks ago.

Cherry Blossoms 2

Cherry Blossoms in Bloom at the Farm

Peach Blossoms

Blossoms and pollination are tree sex, in case you didn’t know it.

I decided to inspect the various fruit trees around the farm and wellness center.

I wasn’t disappointed.

Tree sex and a mild mother nature this spring means we have fruit.

Tiny green apricots are hiding behind big floppy leaves. It’s been several years since they survived the late spring freezes.

The old plum tree next to my in-laws house is proving itself to still be worthy of existence.  Not many plums on there, but enough to make a statement about the amazing bounty we are going to experience this summer. This old tree spirit can say the womb still works. For all you non-scientists out there, the fruit is the womb for the seed. That’s such a fun word. Womb.

My grapevines have tiny grapes peeking out. This is their third year in the ground, and I am very proud that they are showing signs of productivity.

Tiny cherries are everywhere on the collection of cherry bushes that are located around the farm and wellness center. I’m betting they will be the obnoxious sour kind, but they’ll get eaten by something. If not us, then the birds will likely feast this summer like never before in recent years.

My two year old peach trees are popping out all over with tiny peaches, while my apple trees are holding off a bit longer, taking their time, just beginning to think about showing their pregnant bellies.

Yes, this year is shaping up to be one of new life and rebirth in ways far exceeding fruit and veggies. Life itself is being reborn for so many.

An incredible and amazing harvest is in the making.

Time to go plant some zucchini!

We Interrupt the Regularly Scheduled Schedule for a Little Bit of Self Care

I am home today, ditching work/school. Funny thing about it….it was an easy decision. Usually it is an agonizing decision and unless I or a child is on our “deathbed”, off to work I trudge. Sometimes even a child on her “deathbed” couldn’t convince me to use those precious leave days. Often Dad has been relegated to stay home or the kids tough it out by themselves.

You can submit my nomination for Mother of the Year award now. I know….I’m a shoe-in.

But today was different. Yesterday saw some sort of stomach annoyance attempt to derail ME. I was tougher. I ingested my good gut bugs. I drank my kefir. I endured the labor-like waves of muscle spasm that would occasionally slap me into reality. I sat in my corner of the office away from anyone else, answering the phone, answering emails, and making only one out-of-the-office delivery. After all, it wasn’t that bad, just annoying…..all day….and still annoying this morning.

Then munchkin #4 comes stumbling into the living room this morning crying and holding the trashcan. What’s up with this thing? Preying on poor innocent children. Is she dying? No, not really. Same thing….labor pains. They come and go. Those things suck, especially when there isn’t a tax deduction when it’s over.

Then I looked outside. Cold and cloudy. That was all I needed. This would be my day to rest, read, write, cook, and take care of the only kid I have left who still willingly curls up in my lap. Time for some self care. Time for prioritizing appropriately for once. Time to release.

First order of business? Ginger tea with raw honey. Such spicy sweetness on an agitated digestive system. I was never one for ginger snaps or crystallized ginger, but ginger tea is nice. Must be all that other stuff they put in there to disguise the peppery ginger. Munchkin liked it, too.

Second on the list? Clean up the kitchen. Ugh. Unfortunately I’m not sick enough to get out of that one. It actually wasn’t that bad this morning (by our standards), so I was done fairly quickly.

Food? What’s one to eat when everything that touches the inside of your digestive system triggers the cramp from hell? Nothing. But we might as well wash that pesky little bug right out of our gut, right? That means soup. Broth. Maybe some nutritious veggies. A little bit of starch. This recipe. Hope it tastes as good as it sounds. I doubled the garlic. Everything should have double the garlic. Garlic kills bugs…and artery clogging stuff….and cold viruses….and friendships, but only if you forget a breath mint.

Now to find a good bread recipe for the bread machine. Whoever invented bread machines should win a Nobel prize for something. Those things are awesome. I’m thinking my egg bread recipe wins….because I have lots of those…..eggs that is. Thirty something laying hens pretty much ensures that I don’t run out of eggs and egg bread.

I suspect bread is one step removed from Elmer’s glue, but it is so flippin’ good. Especially hot. Especially with melted butter dripping through its little bread pores. Yeah. I’m thinking that’s not exactly on the top ten list of healthiest foods.

That’s just too bad. This is self-care day. The soup is mega healthy. It’ll wash down the bread and butter, and the Herculean peristalsis activity will probably remove them both prior to absorption, so it’s all good.

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