Growing up, there were two sides of food taste in our family. There were those that sided with my mother, that meant you liked stir-fry, ethnic food and lots of vegetables. There was my father's side, where you liked meat and potatoes, meat and potatoes or MORE meat and potatoes. I resided firmly in my father's camp. Feed my boiled potatoes and baked chicken for weeks on end and I was a happy, happy girl. Feed me stir-fry and I wanted to curl up in a sobbing little ball. I could never understand WHY we couldn't eat potatoes and meat every night. It was so TASTY! And heck, it was so CHEAP. This was a slight source of tension to my parents when my father would sit down to a meal he considered to be "rabbit food". I would not so quietly side with my father.

Somewhere in life, where I am not exactly sure, I crossed over to the dark side. I became a lover of sprouts, weird vegetables and trying strange and mysterious foods. Of course, I married someone in the opposing camp. He's getting to be quite good at trying new things, but is at first glance, quite opposed to all things new. Let me be fair, it isn't so much the trying of new things as it is change. My dearest darling husband loathes change, paticularly in food.

While at first I found it beyond frustrating, I now find it exceedingly amusing. Things do come full circle. And all the grief I gave my mother, I am almost regretting. But not quite, because if I hadn't, I wouldn't be so prepared to deal with him.

Compromise is a beautiful thing.

Labels: food, husband, life

I find tears leaking out of my eyes whenever I think about work.

This does not bode well.

Labels: job, life, saddish

I was raised by a mother who had our entire family on the Fit For Life diet. I was eleven, I dropped ten pounds. Our mother was obsessed with healthy eating, alternative medicine and generally being the crazy mom. Since the tender age of eight, I've known that cows milk was "cow puss" (the theory being that cows expelled all their waste and dead white blood cells through milk) and that the only thing even remotely allowable was goats milk. I've had goat cheese, goat yogurt and warm goats milk. I've been the kid, who for snack time, brought seaweed for everyone to munch on. I've had grilled cheese sandwiches snatched out of my fingers by the well meaning friends of my mother. It was POISON! How could they let us eat POISON?! She tried to get our whole family to do the Hallelujah diet, but we had to draw the line somewhere.

The ally in our rebellion was our father. A solid meat and potatoes kind of guy, who groaned at coming home to dinners of meatless stir-fry's and mountains of salad. Give the man a piece of boiled chicken and a cold potato and he couldn't be happier. Whenever I got to eat "normal" food, I'd eat with gusto. So I trained myself into the bad habit of eating allot of what I liked, when it was available. Similar to, say, a survivor of the Great Depression. Gobbling up whatever was in sight (and tasty!) as to assure myself of my momentary happiness. I swore up and down I would never be a "crunchy" health lover. (I also held a special place of loathing for all those people who wore Birkenstock's and valued substance over style.)

So, now that I've moved out of the house, eaten every thing I could possibly want and gained thirty pounds past my ideal weight, I've rather fallen in like with the idea of eating healthy. Possibly even trying to eat Vegan. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely adore good food. Adore it. And dairy will be the hardest thing for me to give up. I love, love, love dairy. Seriously, I could exist eating only cream cheese smeared on crackers piled with onions. Or really, cheese and crackers for life.

But lately, I've been gravitating towards the idea of healthy eating. Entertaining the idea of at least venturing to go vegan for a month. However, given my extremely bad eating habits and my propensity for making sweeping proclamations that I promptly break, I think I'll start of slow. Cut out meat, then eggs, then dairy. Slowly.

This is strictly for health purposes and has nothing to do with saving animals. I believe, firmly, it is perfectly fine to kill animals for meat, leather, decoration and/or sport. I will happily continue wearing leather, keeping my dog on a leash and entertaining the idea of mounting a deer head on my wall.

I do, very much, want to see if improving my diet improves my general sense of well-being, energy and waistline. As it is, I normally kick off my day with a cup of tea and then probably don't eat until I get home that night, where I make up for my lack of eating throughout the day by inhaling whatever I can lay my little paws on.

Really, tragic.

This whole "resolution of health" makes me laugh simply because life really does come full circle. (I am not, however, brave enough to yet tell my mother. She will impress upon me tofu recipes and the incessant nagging that really I'm not completely healthy until I eat only raw fruits and vegetables.)

Labels: dieting, family, life

Yes, well, me and the boys in blue down at the station are becoming fast friends. First, there was the break in at the office, where the ONLY thing taken was my laptop. Then there was my arrest. Then there was the drawn out process of getting my gun/car/cookie sheet back from the police. Then there was the thievery of my wallet.

It's almost comical. But I still feel strangely violated. A stranger rifling through my car looking for money, upending my purse, ripping through my glove compartment. I would rather enjoy curling up and whimpering like a puppy.

Labels: life

This past Sunday I voluntarily went to church for the first time in a very, very long time. I was rather excited, simply for the reason that I have never wanted to go to church and this stage in my life is a very long time coming.

It wasn't that I wanted to go to church to feel better or to atone for my sins, but I wanted to go to church to learn and to meet other believers with the same questions.

I went, but almost left immediately. I didn't realize that Sunday School followed the morning worship and felt frightfully out of place. I didn't know where to go, didn't know anyone to sit with. I was awkward and uncomfortable. But I persevered, had a lovely time and afterwards met the assistant pastor. I vowed to go back for the next few weeks, because I think it's unfair to judge the church on a singular Sunday.

I tried going to the Wednesday night Bible study, but apparently it wasn't held at the church. So I showed up to a cold, dark church.

This morning, I was picking up a book that I had recommended to my sister, when checking out, I got to chatting with the cashier about John Piper and how he had changed my understanding of grace. She looked at me slightly quizzically and asked where I was going to church. I mentioned I was trying out a church, and said the name. She delightedly exclaimed "I go there! Why haven't I seen you?!" Because I just started?

She scribbled down her number, took mine and declared I must sit with them this Sunday. Or, if I fancy a cup of coffee, to call her. She'd love to discuss Piper with me.

I felt so welcomed. I hope I can do the same for a newcomer in church someday.

Labels: faith, life

Why I'm here sometimes. Or what life is all about. Or why it's so damn frustrating.

I'm tired of being strong and independent. I want to be vulnerable.

I might as well say I want a million dollars in gold doubloons.

Labels: job, life