Butt Prints in the Sand

Butt Prints in the Sand

One night I had a wondrous dream, One set of footprints there was seen,
The footprints of the Goddess they were, But mine were not along the shore.

But then some stranger prints appeared, and I asked Her, "What have we here?
These prints are large and round and neat, But much too big to be from feet."

"My child," She said in somber tones, "For miles I carried you alone.
I challenged you to walk in faith, But you refused and made me wait."

"You would not learn, you would not grow, The walk of faith, you would not know,
So I got tired, I got fed up, And there I dropped you on your butt.

"Because in life, there comes a time When one must fight, and one must climb,
When one must rise and take a stand, Or leave their butt prints in the sand."

Author Unknown

In Seven Days

In the beginning God made bread and then he said, "MMMMMMMM That is good."

On the second day God got a sense of humor and he said, "Pull my finger!"

On the third day God, in his sick and twisted sense of humor way said, "Thou shall no longer partake in this good thing called bread."

On the fourth and the fifth day God watched me starve and he giggled in his sick and twisted sense of humor way.

On the sixth and seventh day I found my way back into the kitchen and I cooked without bread and I don't care what God said about it.

One week it has been and I have survived. The first two days were hard. Really fucking hard. I almost forgot how to cook. Or to eat. Or to drink. Or to function. How can one do anything without bread? I felt completely lost in the kitchen. The whole idea of cooking became foreign to me. To eat was a chore. It was a strange experience to go through.

There is this commercial (and if I ever find it I will post it here) about quitting smoking. Funniest damn thing I ever saw. Some guy trying to figure out how to do normal every day tasks, like getting into a car, without a cigarette in hand. Keys in hand he is on top of the car, under the car, putting the key into the gas tank. Yep. That is how I felt. Substitute the cigarette with a loaf of freshly made sourdough bread of course. I couldn't function in the food world those first couple of days. A pan was just a large flat metal object meant to be used as a weapon of mass destruction. Food was poison. If that is what an addiction does to a person coming off it, I am glad mine was bread. Holy shit!

I wish I can jump up and down and exclaim that I feel so much better, happier, lighter, healthier blah blah blah. I can't. But I can say that it is easier now. I am cooking again. The pan has been placed back onto the stove. Food has been cooked. And I am adjusting just fine. Until little moments hit like when a neighbor friend reminds me that I will never partake in a chicken fried steak dinner again. The I start thinking of that frying pan becoming a WMD.

"I swear I don't know how my pan ended up in his head, officer."

The Good, the Bad and the Real F*cking Ugly

The never ending search for a healthier me has continued, even though there has not been much said of it. The last post caught me off guard. I did not realize how heavy the feelings were on the whole topic. Writing it all down brings out of the closet some real ugly monsters. The monsters that taunt me from their nooks and crannies in the dark. Always reminding me.................

I want, in the worst kind of way, to delete the post. Delete the past. But since that button does not exist in this world I can not allow it to exist in the written world either. After all, this is all about me no longer running away. But facing it all. Even if it is one small step at a time.

Let's start off by being honest. I never did go back to the allergist. I know that I am allergic to everything that grows in AZ. That was confirmed many many years ago with the first set of tests. I also already know that my lungs are trashed. So why do I need another x-ray to confirm this? I also know that my gut is falling apart as well. So why do I feel that I need more of the same tests? I don't. So I stopped. Until recently.

I finally broke myself down and went to a NMD. "Broke down" because I knew that this would be the final admittance step. There is no turning around on this one way street. This final decision would lead me to the ultimate answers. Answers that would change my life forever. Ready or not. There I went.

He took a blood sample and had it analyzed for food allergens. The bad part is that it only revealed what I already knew but wanted to avoid in the most horrible way. The real f*cking ugly part is that I am allergic to wheat and yeast.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Along with a few other food items that I only need to avoid for the next six month. They do not matter all that much to me. Not nearly as much as my breads and muffins and cakes and pitas and breads and tortillas and gravies and breads and scones and bread and bread and bread..........for the next year to the REST OF MY LIFE.

So on this New Moon I start a new way of life eliminating this horribly yummy killer. What a way to celebrate a New Moon! Oh, I can think of so many other ways to celebrate it right now.

I am on day two of NO BREAD and really, truly, honestly I am STARVING! Because, really, what else is their to eat?

And to end this on a positive note, which is always the best way to end things, I did find out that their is one other thing I covet that I am not allergic to. Thank the Gods above.

I can still have coffee. MMMMMMMMMMMMM COFFEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!