the melting pot one

currently, i'm phasing out refined sugar. it's part of an inner quest for peace.
peace from pain. (other recommended fasts are from coffee, red meat, and dairy. who are these people? and why do they hate joy?)
anyway.
i didn't know why chef ramsay calls this a hot chocolate "fondant" cause that's like, fancy cake frosting. i looked it up and it means melting in french. ahhh. i can see why he renamed it. it sounds much more neato.
regardless of what it is called, i do know it had sugar in it. i know cause i made it. duh.
but i am allowing a nice dessert once a week, so this was this week's from Gordon Ramsay Makes it Easy.

and it's so ridiculously easy. it's almost wrong. you melt two things together, whip two other things together, and add some other thing. it bakes for 12 minutes and you flip it over. like i  said. ridiculous. oh. and delicious. though next time i'd use 72% cocoa instead of 60%, and add liquer for sure. just to make it even more ridiculous.

especially when paired with peet's uzuri blend. mmmm....

the book says "100 sophisticated but simple recipes." sophisticated. read: never heard of unless you when to a culinary school in france. but truly simple. which i can get into. it's like, a minimalist's approach to diabetes, really.

(but to cancel it out, my sis and i made this beautiful roasted butternut squash soup. very wintery of us. i know. but that's what happens when it gets in the 70's here. we go a bit crazy.)

green things that are not reused, recyclable or reduced

so extremely excited about what i purchased at the farmer's market this morning. the small one (in her owl pouch) and i got there at 8 am. it was cloudy. in the upper 50s. i do not take this for granted. it was a lovely rare morning. the like will be far and few between in the coming months. as in, only when i leave redding proper. 

i've really enjoyed the astonishing number of days that are overcast here. especially after a few days of 90s. it also makes me dread the future. like, when is the summer coming? why won't it come? it's messing with my mind.

from a very kind lady (who helped my rid by bag of a half a dozen very plump and active earwigs) i snatched four of the first apricots i've seen this season. at various other booths i gleaned a couple very squishy and perfect peaches, some free range eggs hatched in some adorable ladies backyard (some are greenish. very cool.), thin leeks with gorgeous blue-green stalks, frizzle-haired drunken lady lettuce (really? yes.) and a silvery something tomato plant that's supposed to be good for the upside-down growing thing i got from a dear friend for my birthday. the tomato plants leaves are delicate and light-colored. i've never seen anything like it. 

eating two of those unconventionally hued eggs microwave soft-boiled with a dash of kosher salt and freshly ground pepper, i can taste the appeal. the romance of home grown and local fare. (i should've put some minced leek in this. dangit!)

but then i sensed the fear. without deliberation certain thoughts popped into my head. what did that lady do to the chickens? are these eggs okay? i mean , they came from a stranger at the market.  

heartily i rebuke such thoughts. because there are a bunch of money-grubbing strangers in charge of eggs at the winco. why is it easier to assume sinister motives to the local private farmer than a corporation? what's wrong with me? again. rebuke!

sidenote: they're from an americana hen. i found a cute video about these guys on flickr. they are like all the chickens you've ever seen in those hokey/i mean antique paintings.

in other news today, i've started taking liquid vitamin and other nasties supplements. this furthers my quest towards caffeine independency. fm patients are given the no-no on caffeine yet are some of the most fatigue-stricken folks. so not fair. 

i've tried this stuff before and it seemed to help the energy level. all in my mind? we will see. it tastes like the worst medicine ever, but strangely less gagging then the vanilla flavored powdered form that goes in your juice. it doesn't really dissolve and... i'll spare the details. assume a tragic method of wrecking juice.

free tip: eat protein with fat soluble vitamins or you will be a sad puppy. take it from a vitamin a and b poisoned veteran. blech.

anyway, this round, i'll take a shot of it and wash it down with juice. even if the juice has aloe vera in it. that doesn't have much of a taste anyway, and i'm used to what little it has.

and that donkey is the raddest thing ever. see his little aloe plant pack? he's a hard working little ass.

fibro blog

this entry is for you. because chances are, if you're a human, you know someone who has fibromyalgia or chronic fatigue syndrome. (both are very similar. in fm, the pain is more pronounced, in cfs, the fatigue is.) their life is a journey of realization and acceptance. of what one can and cannot do. should and shouldn't try. what once was possible, but now impossible.
all because of how it would make them feel.

i’m realizing i spend much of my subconscious energy wishing i felt better. rather hedonistic.
wishing there was an escape from the dull pain throughout my body. a fix for fatigue. i also realize this is the mentality of a drug addict. now there’s a new perspective. can’t judge. i understand the need, the desire to be without. though not at the expense of others and one’s own body. well maybe the latter is understandable, albeit not commendable.
what a waste of thoughts.
been reading about the work of deception in our lives. i’ve been working through it slowly (it’s a brain bender) and it’s making me sharper about recognizing the lies. catching incorrect thinking. like the aforementioned. does it really matter if i don’t feel good? really?
pain and suffering don’t have good synonyms. (let me know if i’m wrong on this.) which is a shame. cause i’m especially done with hearing the word “pain” in my head. “hurt” is emotional in my mind. so that won’t do. (plus, phonetically, it leaves much wanting. i don’t think i like any words with a “bossy ‘r’”.) anyway, the difference between p & s is that the latter has no end in sight. a hopelessness is attributed. i refuse to be hopeless! i rebuke it. fight it. feel it. am plagued by it. and then weariness turns my thoughts to mush. (there's an actual term for this: fibrofog. ridiculous sounding. but scarily accurate.)

the conclusion? it has something to do with the facts: a. Christ cares for me in a way i can't describe, but fully rely on. b. His grace really is sufficient. if i'd pay attention to it. and c. it doesn’t NOT matter what i’m feeling. it matters how i respond. i can’t wish pain away. i can waste away wishing. it’s really insignificant in the scheme of God’s great world aside from the goal—of somehow reflecting the Lord’s glory, “being transformed into His likeness with ever-increasing glory…” which is…
… pretty significant.
p.s. i used to think i needed a therapy dog, but now i’m sure i don’t. i have a therapy daughter. inexpressibly better. like i said. grace.

cyclobenzaprine, acetaminophine, the pool, and me

chronic muscle and joint pain meet your nemesis. the dynamic trio, so to speak, has been found. 'cause apparently gaining a pound a week affects your joint somehow... it's like ultra-light backpacking your way through every moment of life. even the die hards get to take the pack off when they rest. and they get to carry it on their back. mine's right in the gut.
i've found the secret to sound sleep in the third trimester of summer pregnancy. it's not a/c. weird? it's a walk in the pool, 20 mg of flexeril, and 650 mg of tylenol. just wanted to share the wealth.