On Prescriptions and Chocolate and Quinoa

Part of the problem with being sick . . . (and for those who have been following this, yes, I'm feeling a little better, but I'm still coughing more than I should. The allergist said I tested negative for all local allergens. He also said that he and many people he's been seeing in his office for the last month have had this kind of bronchitis that lasts for weeks and won't go away. The fact that this is how I always react to a cold he, like me, suspects might be related to my sleep issues -- which I'm taking up with my doctor in my general check-up sometime soon. Nevertheless . . . )

Part of the problem with being sick is that I end up spending a lot of time at Target waiting for prescriptions to be filled for me. (I still haven't figured out why it takes them quite so long to fill a prescription. When I give them the little piece of paper, they immediately go to their drug stash and find the big bottle of that substance to make sure they have it, and it's in their hand when they tell me, "It'll be about twenty minutes, okay?" How can it take them twenty minutes to move pills from one bottle to another, print a label, and tape it on? Whatever . . . )

The reason it's a problem is because my wandering the aisles of Target to kill time is a bad idea. Particularly because the pharmacy is right next to the extensive candy section. (Who planned that? Seriously. We'll put all the stuff we sell to make you healthy right next to the stuff we sell that is the biggest culprit in making you so sick. If I was inclined to such thinking, I'd see a conspiracy lurking in there . . . )

This is even more of a problem when I am sick with a cough, because for the bulk of this illness, the only time I didn't cough or have the powerful urge to cough was when I was sleeping or eating -- which meant I wanted to sleep and eat all day long. (Again, this is improving. Thank you for your concern.)

So, I would turn around from the pharmacy counter, trying valiantly to stifle my never-ending cough, with a monumental urge to EAT SOMETHING because it would calm my throat and lungs for just a little bit and give me a break . . . and there in front of me are the dark-chocolate-covered blueberries that are downright irresistible to me even in a healthy state. And I have nothing to do for twenty minutes.

Who can blame me for buying the chocolate blueberries and devouring the whole bag before I get my prescription? Nobody. Don't even try. Nobody knows the trouble I've seen.

However, on my last trip, I sucked it up and determined that if I was buying food, it was going to be something healthy. It was right before noon, so I looked for something I could take home and eat for lunch. (As I said, the cough's getting a little better, so the urge to eat IMMEDIATELY wasn't as strong.)

So, I wandered over to the frozen food section and found this meal: Amy's Light and Lean Quinoa and Black Beans with Butternut Squash and Chard. Hmm. I tried some quinoa once. It was okay. Black beans are okay. I like squash generally. Chard I've never had. I have no idea what drew me to this meal -- maybe the attractive photo on the box. (Having a husband in the food industry, I know the work that goes into those photos. Crazy.)

I bought the quinoa. I had it for lunch. Surprisingly tasty. I'm not sure if it was genuinely really good or if I had such low expectations that it didn't have far to rise to meet them. In any case, I bought another box the other day. We'll see if it satisfies again on my second try.

Because, as you'll recall, I'm trying to get rid of the white stuff. And apparently, quinoa doesn't count as white stuff. Boo yah. Go, Amy.

Food, Glorious Food

Here is evidence of a loving God: food tastes good.

God didn't have to make food taste good. He was not beholden to us in that way. Just because the intake of nourishment is required for our survival does not mean He had to make this intake a pleasant experience. It could have been accomplished with something as dry and boring as popping a pill. Or with something as uncomfortable as an IV -- or even more painful than that. Our food that we eat could be tasteless and bland, or even foul and distasteful, something we have to force ourselves to consume to continue to live.

But God didn't do that. He made food, and he made food delicious. He made the nourishment process one that not only satisfies our stomachs but also satisfies our tongues. He made food taste good.

Now, I know what a lot of you are saying, because it's what I would be saying if I clicked on a random post and read the above paragraphs. "Yeah, but it's all the food that's BAD for me that tastes good. The healthy food sucks!" But that's not necessarily so. That's only because of what we sinful little boogers have done to our taste buds. You can't fault God for that.

I have a friend who grew up in Albania. She craves vegetables and fruit. Seriously. LOVES them. When I give her my customary gift of a bag of caramel popcorn at Christmastime, she thanks me graciously and puts it out for her American husband and children to eat. Not that she doesn't like sweet stuff (she makes a mean baklava), but she can only eat so much of it. And she doesn't have the craving for it, or for the fatty stuff, that we Americans do. Her taste buds were trained well from early on. She eats like we were meant to eat (and you can tell by looking at her).

So, yeah, believe it or not, healthy food tastes good if we eat like we're supposed to eat.

God was also good to make the nourishment process something that satisfies not only our bodies but also our souls. Case in point: we have to sit to eat. I mean, yes -- it's possible to shove food down our throats while running around doing laundry, diapering babies, and responding to emails (and many people do). But we all know that eating on the run is not good for us, digestively or otherwise. Eating requires at least one free hand to do the shoving, and it is much more efficiently done with two hands and in a seated -- or at least stationary -- position.

So, this need for physical nourishment also requires us to take two or three breaks during the day. Which are also good for us.

And since those breaks are required of every human being, and since they tend to come for all of us at similar times during the day, those breaks tend to become a social time. The standard practice in most cultures that I'm aware of is to eat with other people. Meals are for feeding our spirits with social connection as much as for feeding our cells with nutrients.

Again, God didn't have to make any of this work the way He did. Feeding ourselves could have been a lonely, miserable, even painful ordeal that we had to endure on a daily basis. Instead, he made it very pleasurable -- pleasurable enough even to be tempting as an idol in our lives. He was willing to risk that potential competition for our hearts to give us something that gives us joy.

He doesn't NEED to be that kind to us. He just is. It seems He wants us to enjoy our brief stay in this world. We should probably be more grateful for that.

Gluttony

My name is Gwen, and I am a glutton.

gluttony (n.): an inordinate desire to consume more than that which one requires

I could have said something like "sugaraholic", because my problem is actually not necessarily with the total amounts of food I eat, but with the amount of sweets that I eat. But the term "sugaraholic" (which I have used to refer to myself many times before) has a bit of the same connotation that alcoholic does, implying some helplessless in the matter. And while yes, I believe I have created a physiological "dependency" in my body to some extent, the fact is, I'm not at all helpless about this.

This is a choice. And it is a sinful choice. You all are my "priests" today that I am confessing to.

I read an article recently that asked the question, what would happen if we, in the church, treated the sin of gluttony the same way we treat the sin of homosexuality? And goodness -- seriously, what would happen? Imagine how offended people would get! There's no denying that gluttony is probably an epidemic in our society and even in our churches. There's hardly a toe in the Body of Christ that wouldn't get stepped on.

But we gloss over gluttony. We make light of it. We even glorify it in some contexts. (How many over-eating Christians out there are livid about the sexual sin running rampant in our society and yet engorge themselves on a daily basis without a second thought -- even thanking God for the food He's provided for them to engorge themselves with?) I can think of friends right now who I know will think it is ridiculous that I am concerned about this problem of mine as a sin. A health issue, yes, but a sin? Come on, girlfriend -- if that's the worst you got, you got no sin problems . . . let me show you my rap sheet.

But anyone who knows their Bible knows that sin is sin is sin. And this is the sin God has been convicting me of for a long time now. It's not a small thing, at least not in my life.

Eating so much sugar makes my body weak, which hinders me from doing the work God has called me to.

Eating so much sugar affects my moods, which hurts my relationships, especially with my family, and keeps me from loving others in the way I am supposed to.

Eating so much sugar probably affects my sleep, which is already an issue and which affects everything already mentioned.

But even more so, eating so much sugar gets in the way of my relationship with God. I eat sugar for comfort, to feel better in a rough moment. I eat it for energy, to pick me up when I'm crashing. And God has already provided something to meet those needs in my life: Himself. HE is to be my comfort; HE is to carry me through difficult times. When I consistently turn to something else to play the role that God is supposed to play in my life, I'm breaking one of the Big Ten: that's idolatry.

It doesn't matter than I'm not obese or diabetic or anything like that. I'm not as intimate with my Father as He and I want to be -- and He's made it quite clear that this is one of the things standing in the way. Simply because it represents a choice I'm making that denies His being who He is. And there's no intimacy with God when you're denying who He is.

So there's my public confession, which I decided was necessary for me to actually lick this thing. First John (a favorite book of mine) tells us that "walking in the light" is necessary for fellowship with God, and fellowship with God has become my top priority. So I'm taking this problem out of the darkness and putting it into the light, where it can actually be dealt with. Feel free to pull your own sins out of darkness and join me in the light in this New Year, friends.

Mommy/Daughter Time

Hubby has been traveling a lot on business lately, so I'm spending a lot of with my daughters. And as much as we miss Hubby, I'm enjoying some new things with my girls. For instance:

- Once Upon A Time -- Oh, my goodness! This is, like, our new obsession. I remember when this TV show premiered, I read a review and thought, Hmm. That sounds interesting. But not interesting enough to add another weekly required viewing activity to my life, so I forgot about it. But as the girls get older, we have a much more difficult time finding TV shows that are entertaining for all of us that are also appropriate age-wise for all of us . . . and "Once" hits the spot.

We're watching the first three seasons on Netflix, and I'm so glad we are. It would drive me insane if I had to wait an entire week (or more) for the conclusion of each episode's cliffhanger. This show is FASCINATING. How fun would it have been to write this! Figuring out how to tie all these different fairy tale characters together. We are loving, loving, loving this show.

- Dance class -- This is a brand new one. The eldest and I have been bouncing around the idea of checking out adult dance classes at a dance school a couple minutes from our house. So this week, we finally took the plunge. We got to sample all the class in one week for $20: Hip Hop on Monday, Jazz on Wednesday, and Ballet last night. Walking is painful today, as you might understand. It's been a long time! I didn't realize until last night how much I miss my Sioux City dance class friends.

I think we're going to stick to the Ballet on Thursdays. More our speed (even my daughter preferred it, to my surprise). And the nice thing was, last night, we were the only students there, so we get basically a private lesson.

- New homemade dishes -- My eldest has taken on the duty of cooking some of our family's meals. And this has been an adventure because she is trying to eat more healthy stuff, so we're all having to eat her new experimental healthy dishes. But a few have been hits. She discovered a veggie burger recipe that just isn't that bad . . . I would almost call it good. She made a veggie fajita that I really enjoyed. But the best one yet: she found a recipe for homemade lo mein that is just like what you get in restaurants. Oh, my! SO good!

-Walking the dog -- Now that some semblance of fall is falling on southern Texas (some semblance . . . kind of . . . I miss fall . . . ), it is getting cool enough that the family is more interested when I say, "Who wants to go with the dog and me on a W-A-L-K?" (The spelling is for the dog's benefit; the minute he recognizes the word, he dances like a maniac with impatience until we're out the door and it makes us nuts.) These days, the neighbors have fall decorations up -- lots of scarecrows and ghosts -- and it has been a hoot to watch the mutt staring these creatures down, trying to figure them out.

Sigh! We won't have both girls with us for these moments for too many more years. Gotta treasure these days while they're here.

A Taco By Any Other Name

The girls and I ate dinner at Taco Cabana yesterday. Taco Cabana seems to be the taco joint of choice among most San Antonians. They have a salsa bar. This is to their credit.

Aside from that, the girls and I feel that . . . well . . . Taco Cabana is . . . not Taco Bell. And most San Antonians would find that fact to be to their credit, but we don't.

Really, a taco should be a taco should be a taco, but it is SOOO not. Taco Bell has been our taco joint of choice for a good many years, and our taste buds are accustomed to its peculiarities. And it took me some time to adjust to Taco Bell -- when I grew up, we ate at Taco Tico. Taco Tico! Any other Wichita folks remember Taco Tico? I wonder if it's still around. I miss Taco Tico.

Just like I miss Sub 'n Stuff. Again, Wichita friends -- Sub 'n Stuff? When they when out of business and I had to resort to Subway for my submarine-type sandwiches, it was truly a sad day for me. There was simply no comparison. I still have moments when my mouth experiences a flashback to biting into a Sub 'n Stuff pepperoni sub and it cries a little for the treasures time takes from us. Sigh.

Didn't I just write about how the variety of food available to us has contributed to the obesity problem in America? I did. But I'm going to ignore that convicting bit of information as I return to my original subject . . .

Taco Cabana. It's not Taco Bell. Salsa bar notwithstanding, it just doesn't quite do it for us.

Furthermore, a trip to Taco Cabana never fails to stir up our linguistic pharasaic tendencies. Yesterday, my youngest ordered an item that consisted of a flour tortilla filled with beans and cheese and folded in half. It was labeled a bean and cheese taco.

No such item exists in our world.

Tortilla folded in half = taco. I get that. But once beans are included, we have left the taco family. Beans = burrito.

I understand that for many folks, tortilla wrapped around innards = burrito. And that has generally been a part of our understanding, too. But in reality, when you receive said Taco Cabana item on your tray, it has been wrapped up much like a burrito to fit into the aluminum foil wrapper they use to keep it warm. It looks like a burrito.

But the wrapping is a secondary matter. Once you add beans to a tortilla-filled item it has been born into the burrito family. And beans with no meat? = NO DOUBT ABOUT IT BURRITO.

It is probably a sad commentary on my family that the label given to our fast food entree can disturb us enough to spoil the pleasure of the dining experience. Even with a salsa bar.

Surprised in San Antonio

Our family has lived in San Antonio for a little over a year now. Last night, we were discussing some of the more interesting or surprising things we have discovered about our new hometown during that year:

- The need for layers -- in the summer. As incredibly and consistently hot as it gets here during the summer months (and lingering into the fall), if you are leaving home and going to be entering another building and spending any significant time in there, you need to take a wrap of some kind. Church, grocery store, restaurant, Target . . . it doesn't matter. They keep their indoor temperatures at refrigerator levels around here during July and August. Good heavens.

- Mediocre BBQ -- We have yet to find a BBQ place that knocks our socks off . . . or even one that just makes us really want to have BBQ for dinner tonight. They're not bad, just meh. Which is really a bummer when you're in Texas, for Pete's sake.

- The RiverWalk -- I expected it to be pretty. But seriously, every time I'm down there, I'm struck all over again by how truly lovely this stretch of land is in the middle of a major metropolitan area. SO pretty. And so well-kept by the city. It's enough to make me wish I lived downtown so I could just spend all my evenings wandering along the river path.

- The 90s are liveable -- It's not as humid in San Antonio as we expected; I guess we're far enough south and west in the state to miss the sweep of moist air that floats up from the gulf as far even as Kansas (where hubby and I grew up with hot, humid summers). And because it's relatively dry, the heat is relatively tolerable. If you're not exerting yourself too much, and if you're in the shade, and particularly if there's a breeze of any kind, you can be outside quite comfortably for any length of time. I enjoy sitting in our courtyard even in the middle of the day (well, I would if I wasn't a veritable feast for every biting insect in the county).

- Fireplaces still have value -- It actually does get cold enough in the winter to light a fireplace indoors. Once in a while.

- The taco vs. burrito thing -- This has been a controversy in my daughter's class all year. A certain taco chain in town has an item on their menu: beans and cheese wrapped in a tortilla. They call this a bean taco. And my daughter cannot bear this. That is a burrito. That is, in our experience, practically the definition of a burrito. And I've already written about the breakfast taco/burrito question. Yeesh.

- Spursmania -- Okay, admittedly, this may have only been a surprise to me because I don't follow NBA basketball. But good heavens, this place is Spurs-nutso. Especially when they are doing well at the end of the season, which they usually are. After watching some of the championship game they won this year, I understand the loyalty and excitement now; I may even get swept up in it myself pretty soon.

- Long ballots -- I think I already mentioned how I was surprised at the offices I had to vote for in the primary elections this year. Railroad commissioner? Seriously? That's an elected office? And one of the hot contests as well! And all sorts of other minor positions were on the ballot, too. I'm kind of bracing myself for the November ballot which I assume will be more thorough than the primary election ballot was.

- No basements -- Having grown up in tornado alley in Kansas, and having heard all my life about tornadoes ripping through cities in Texas (also part of tornado alley), this one threw me. Apparently, the ground is too rocky in San Antonio to dig deep enough for a basement. Nobody has them here. However, most of the houses we looked at (and the one we bought) have decent-sized "game rooms" on the upstairs floor. "Texas basements", they're called. Only they're of no use to you if a tornado comes.

- Texas pride -- Yes, we knew Texas was about being Texas. But sometimes it feels like Texas is ALL about being Texas. Lone stars everywhere, folks. If the state were to secede someday, it should surprise no one.

. . . And probably our biggest surprise . . .

- No cowboys -- Nor any southern accents. At best, I have one friend I can think of who has a bit of a drawl that she will exaggerate for effect on occasion. This is Texas, people! Where are the ten-gallon hats and big-hair ladies? Where is the country music and line dancing? Where are the cowboy boots? (Well, you do see some of those around.) Where are the "y'alls" and "ain'ts" and the "yee-haws"? I wasn't expecting to live in the midst of a hoedown, but come on, friends. We're in TEXAS!

Yes, but we're in San Antonio. Tamale country. More "holas" than "y'alls" around here. And that's fine. We like San Antonio. But I'm going to have to throw out a "y'all" once in a while.

There's a Mystery Afoot!

We've done a variety of interesting birthday parties over the years. The Peter Pan party with the bouncy-house so the kids could "fly". The chef party -- did that one twice. The Blue's Clues party collecting food for the local animal shelter. The overnight makeover party. The arts and crafts party. The backyard carnival party. The Hawaiian luau party. The scavenger hunt. The improvisational film-making event.

Some flew; some flopped (well, they sputtered anyway -- having a good group of friends over makes it hard to flop a party altogether).

But tonight we trek into new territory. Our youngest is all about mysteries, specifically Nancy Drew computer game mysteries. And it occurred to us that the group of friends she was inviting (her class) consisted of three boys and three girls, exactly like the characters in the board game Clue. When is that likely to happen again? So, we try a new adventure tonight: the mystery party.

Each kid was assigned a Clue character with their invitation -- Colonel Mustard, Miss Scarlet,
Professor Plum, Ms. Peacock, Mr. Green, and Mrs. White. To our delight, they seem to be getting into this. They're hunting down costumes and have been finagling all week trying to figure out who everyone's character is (I didn't instruct them to keep it a secret, but they decided to do so and are having fun with that).

We have the whole scenario laid out tonight, with secret information they receive at designated points in the evening, evidence they reveal, questions they need to ask, secrets they want to hide . . . I tell you, this was a complicated ruse to pull together. I'm just praying the mystery works out in the end; my first attempt at something like this, you know.

Last night, we were all about the food. Kiddo wants to have "elegant" looking food, as if this were a fancy affair. But then, we are feeding a bunch of teenagers. So, we have a freezer full of appetizers (mini quiches, potstickers, mini quesadillas, shrimp -- ooh, probably should pick up some cocktail sauce today -- bacon-wrapped scallops, friend mac-n-cheese squares) . . . we'll come up with some fancy French names for it all and set them out on the china in the Formal Dining Room. Cocktails when they arrive (Coke, Sprite, and juice in wine glasses offered on a silver tray). Desserts in the Courtyard toward the end of the evening (mini cheesecake bites, mini cream puffs, and strawberries with chocolate for dipping).

Yeah, we surely have far too much food. I expect to be eating this junk for the next week. But then, they're teenagers. You never know.

And once the mystery is solved and the culprit revealed, they'll play a rousing round of the Clue DVD game . . . and finish up with the Nancy Drew movie if there's time. This party screams my daughter's name, and they'll all know that.

But they will have fun just because they are fun kids and they genuinely enjoy each other's company. What a blessing this class is.

Longing For the Snake Oil

So, my neighbor invited me to an event to hear about these wonder products she has been using for about a year from Genesis Pure. I don't need to go into detail about it all with you. Health and nutrition stuff. Juices, supplements, super fruits -- you know the drill. I went mainly because I thought it would be nice to spend some time getting to know my neighbor a little more. I had no intention of buying a bunch of expensive nutrition products.

But as I sat there hearing all these people talking about the health problems they had and how this stuff took care of everything . . . how much energy they have now . . . how they're not having to take medications anymore . . . how they haven't been sick for months . . . and yeah, I felt myself getting sucked in.

I mean, the premise sounds plausible, you know? That we have all sorts of toxins in our body that need to be cleaned out. And we don't get the vitamins and nutrients we need from the food we eat, even if we try to eat healthy. Clean out the bad, pour in the good, and you have to feel better, right?

So, yes, I was tempted. And I still wonder if I shouldn't get a month's worth or so and see if it makes any difference in how I feel. I wrote recently about all the health issues (minor health issues, but pesky ones) that hubby and I deal with that doctors can't seem to fix for us. The promise of a daily juice or pill that would fix everything is quite alluring. And I believe these people are sincere in their testimonies – it obviously works for some folks. Then again, it also sounds like a bunch of snake oil. I mean, how many different companies out there are making claims like these? How many similar wonder products and diets and such have swept the nation and then faded into obscurity over the past several decades?

When I was struggling with all my sleep problems, I went to about nine different doctors, I believe, looking for help. General practitioners, neurologists, sleep specialists, psychiatrists, and yes, an alternative medicine kind of guy, too. I was given all sorts of medications and all sorts of herbs and all sorts of advice. And every new thing I tried was a moment of hope: maybe this was the answer!

That was the familiar, heady feeling I had at my friend's meeting: maybe this is the answer . . .

And then there was the familiar, heavy feeling: no, there is no answer.

Hope is so essential to life. I wish God hadn't made it so fragile.

Killing Ourselves in the Name of Happiness

My daughter was watching an episode of “Sam and Cat” on the Disney channel. Sam and Cat's favorite soft drink, Blue Dog, was declared illegal in the state of California because it had too much sugar in it and "some people drink too much of it." Folks from the Federal Bureau of Interference came to confiscate all the Blue Dog soda out of the store they were in.

The Federal Bureau of Interference. Yes, the producers had a statement to make here.

Interestingly, my daughter thought this was a spoof on Prohibition. Glad to see she's been paying attention in history class. But her dad and I filled her in on the current issues this was about.

Here's the thing, folks. Is there anybody out there who doesn't know that drinking too much pop is bad for you? Really – anyone?

Okay, maybe there are a few clueless folks. Eliminate them from the discussion here. The bulk of us are well aware that drinking too much pop is bad for you. Too much sugar. Leads to obesity and diabetes. Rots your teeth. Messes with your blood sugar. We know this.

So, why do we keep drinking so much pop?

Indeed, why do we continue to consume all the crap out there that's bad for us? Coffee, candy bars, refined sugar, transfats, red dyes, beer . . . how many times do we have to hear this stuff? How many dress sizes do we have to increase . . . how many illnesses do we have do endure . . . how many drugs do we have to be prescribed . . . how many premature deaths of the one we love do we need to witness before we understand that we are literally killing ourselves with the way we eat?

Those aren't really rhetorical questions, either. As I've mentioned before here, I am a hopeless carb and sugar addict. I'm well aware of how bad this is for me, but I continue to eat this way. A few weeks ago in BSF, the teaching leader said something on a completely different topic, but the Lord turned the words around to say to me, in my heart, how many times do you need to hear that all the sugar you eat is keeping you from the life I have for you?

Uh . . five more?

The unfortunate answer is that hearing the truth and knowing the truth doesn't always result in acting on the truth. We eat crap (and smoke, and watch trash on TV, and gossip, and . . . and . . . ) because it makes us feel good. And feeling good has become the purpose of existence in our modern times, the thing that gives meaning to life. A book I'm reading talks about how in past cultures, people found meaning in life through honor, or community, or "leaving a legacy", or even through enduring suffering well. In this age of technological advancement, comfort and happiness is our idol of choice.

Which, as this book discusses, gives us no "spiritual" resources for dealing with the inevitable suffering of life. The only salve our god can give us is escape through more overdose of comfort and happiness . . . and thus we have a nation of addicts.

It's crazy, isn't it? We know that doing this stuff in excess is bad for us. We know that continuing in this path will ruin us.  We know that what gives us pleasure today will eventually take us captive and end all real pleasure in our lives. But we keep doing it.

What pitiful saps we are that we require laws to force us to do what we know will make us truly happy. Sad.

A 7-Food Fast . . . Wow

I'm reading a book by Jen Hatmaker called 7: An Experimental Mutiny against Excess.  I expect to write about this book several more times, so you may as well go out and buy it for yourself.  It's a pretty amazing book.

The premise is, Ms. Jen decided to do some radical fasting in seven different areas of her life for a month each.  The first was food. For one month, she ate only seven foods:

- chicken
- eggs
- whole wheat bread
- sweet potatoes
- avocadoes
- spinach
- apples

She did a bit of research ahead of time to be sure that these foods would give her a good balance of the nutrition she needed. She allowed herself salt and pepper for seasoning and a little bit of olive oil for cooking in when necessary.  But nothing else. Only water to drink.

Like I said, radical.

This was difficult for her because she's something of a foodie. I think it would be difficult for me because I'm not at all a foodie. I'm a rather picky eater. I can eat all of these foods, but only when served just right. I like my sweet potatoes fried. I like my avocado with salsa and chips. I like my spinach doused in dressing -- or if it's cooked, layered between lasagna noodles and tomato sauce. Each of these foods are fine, but to eat only these foods would be awful.

So, why did she do it? Well, as I said, it was a fast. And she got all the benefits out of it that one gets from a fast, particularly a recognition of how much excess there is in her life (note again the sub-title) and the freedom of surrender and submission and giving up idols. She also commented on the extra energy she had . . . that her allergies were gone . . . that her skin was so much cleaner and brighter.

It reminded me of when I changed my diet a few years ago. I was seeing a holistic kind of doctor for help with my sleep issues, and he got me changing a lot of things about how I ate.  I blogged about it at the time (here). About how I was trying to eat more variety of foods, more natural foods, etc.  (I also immediately blogged about crashing and burning on it all one day. Hubris.) I lost a good amount of weight during that time. Felt a lot better. Looked a lot better. (Didn't sleep a lot better, but I guess you can't win 'em all.)

I've been aggravated at myself for what my eating habits have become again. And something about Ms. Jen's 7-food fast appealed to me . . . but then I know if I actually tried to do that, I would want to shoot myself within a couple days. That was for a month -- I need to make changes that I can sustain for the long-term. Changes like I made before.

Sigh. Why can't the lessons I learn stay learnt?

International Snack Fest!

In case you haven't heard, the Olympics have started! Hubby is a big Olympics fan, so I expect to have them up on our TV most of the next two weeks. (Personally, I fear we're not going to get through this round of competitions without something ugly going down security-wise. Guess I should start praying now.)

But tonight is the opening ceremonies (well, yes, I realize they actually happen this morning, but they are broadcast in the U.S. tonight), and I hope nothing happens to disrupt that because we have a new family tradition that I'm looking forward to.

International Snack Fest!

I came up with this two years ago for the opening ceremonies in London. We wanted to have a family night around the television enjoying the event, but I suspected my girls would get bored. So, I brought out a different food item every twenty minutes or so:

- Fortune cookies from China

- Ravioli from Italy

- Pretzels from Germany

- Bread dipped in olive oil from Greece

- Croissants from France

- Bacon from . . . Canada (Mm-hmm)

- Swiss cheese (yes, really)

- Cinnamon buns from Sweden (kinda stretched a bit there)

- Empanadas from Panama (because we'd just been to Panama – although the closest I could get in Siouxland was Totino's pizza rolls)

- Lettuce dipped in Russian dressing (REALLY stretched for that one)

- Sweet potato chips from Zimbabwe (just cuz the internet said they have a lot of sweet potatoes in Zimbabwe)

- And, of course, chocolate chip cookies from the good ol' USA.

This year, I'm going to look for some Swedish meatballs and some real empanadas (I think I've seen them here – we're in Texas now, after all). I'll replace the fortune cookies with crab rangoon and leave out the Russian dressing (even though it's in Russia this year . . . that was just kind of lame). There's a Pasha Express in the local HEB, so I might look for something better from them. The other big change we're making this year – we're not eating dinner ahead of time because by bedtime we were stuffed.

I can't tell you how much fun this was! And how much we're looking forward to it again this year!     U! S! A!     U! S! A!

Transformational Tomatoes

I know that I have friends (and perhaps other readers I'm unaware of) who are very conscious of where they spend their money. Not only are they concerned about getting the most for their dollar for themselves, but they are concerned that their dollars are making a difference. That the companies they support with their business are behaving responsibly in the world.

Allow me to introduce you to my husband's new company: NatureSweet Tomatoes.

NatureSweet makes the small, little tomatoes that you put on salads -- three varieties of them. When I started telling people who hubby was going to be working for, I couldn't believe how many of them said, "Oh, NatureSweet! That's the ONLY kind of tomato I'll buy." They're not the cheapest tomato in the store, but they're really that much better.

They are grown hydroponically, which means the product is more consistent since they aren't dependent on the ever-changing weather for the right conditions to grow. They're unique in another way. I don't know the technical side of this well enough to do it justice with my description, but their particular product is the result of grafting together (a painstaking process done by hand) two different types of tomato plants: one for its strong root system and another for its sweetness.

Really, some consistently tasty tomatoes here. Folks out there eat these things just by themselves, for an afternoon snack (which I would never have considered trying before). But there's more. Let me tell you the behind-the-scenes stories hubby has learned in the last few months, the stuff that isn't necessarily trumpeted to the public.

The guy who owns NatureSweet is a billionaire from previous business ventures. He had a ranch in Mexico and fell in love with the people there. But his heart broke for them because they lived in such poverty and had no hope of changing that where they were.

So, he went and bought this tomato company and turned it into what is now NatureSweet . . . with the specific goal of providing work for the poor in Mexico. They have five facilities in the Guadalajara area. The workers there make two or three times the going rate for agricultural workers in the area (the website states that 82% of their Mexican workers are paid above the living wage). This means that they have money to spend . . . which brings businesses into the communities . . . which results in increased economic stability for the area. (Again, from the website: home ownership for their Mexican employees increased by 20% in 2012.)

What's more, NatureSweet actively invests in adult education programs for their employees -- from primary school classes on up (and that tells you how low a lot of these people start from). These people are empowered. The grip the local drug dealers have on the community is lessened. And the need to leave home and travel north (legally or illegally) to find a way to make money and support the family is alleviated.

And the owner makes no money on this. All of his profits go back into the company to increase sales, build more facilities, employ more people.

All this to say, when you purchase NatureSweet tomatoes at your grocery store, you are not only getting a high quality product, but you are participating in the transformation of lives and communities.

AND . . . when you talk up NatureSweet tomatoes at the restaurants and club stores you frequent ("Are these NatureSweet tomatoes on your salad? Oh, NatureSweet tomatoes are the best. I'd be much more likely to buy a happy meal for my kiddo if you offered NatureSweet tomatoes as a side option . . . "), you also contribute to the economic future of your humble correspondent and her family.  :) 

Christmas Ugh

One week 'til Christmas Day.

If you've read my blog for more than a year, you've surely picked up on my frustrations over the holiday season. I get so aggravated at the commercialism . . . but I also get aggravated at the secular anti-commercialism, especially when it is spouted by religious people and sources. If you're a believer, Christmas is NOT about "family", "giving", "the kids", or any of that stuff. Christmas is about a specific historical and spiritual event -- an event of profound significance that is worthy of deep and joyous worship on our part.

But the way we celebrate Christmas in America these days makes it almost impossible, it seems, to remember that event in any meaningful way. Try as we might, our efforts to "put Christ back in Christmas" really are so shallow. We have special programs at church . . . but in the end, those are usually just about putting on a show (often "for the kids"), eating holiday food, fellowship (the churchy word for socializing), and perhaps a single poignant moment seeing the manger scene portrayed once again -- then back to more food and fellowship.

We do some volunteer work one night with the homeless or a group of needy kids ("giving") . . . but what does that have to do with Christmas, really? We should be doing that all year long. And from what I hear, most of those organizations would actually be more grateful if we stopped by to help in January when everyone suddenly forgets about them again.

We listen to the traditional Christmas carols on the Christmas music station in the car . . . and get a momentary emotional rush from the power of the music and the memories it invokes (rarely, if we're honest, to the ideas behind the words), and then immediately turn around and start bouncing to "Rocking Around the Christmas Tree."

We maybe read a brief "Advent devotional" each morning during December . . . another thing on the full to-do list for the month.

We send Christmas cards and letters and make sure they have a scripture reference in them and make mention of Jesus somewhere . . . but we're really just doing this to keep in touch with folks.

On the big day, we read the Christmas story from Luke 2 and say a quick prayer . . . just touching base with the heavenlies before the orgy of gift-opening.

Putting Christ in Christmas kind of feels like putting bunko in the neighborhood bunko night: it relieves our conscience by giving us a legitimate excuse to put time and energy into doing all the things we REALLY want to do.

I have a dream of a Christmas one year where there are no presents, no decorations, no Christmas specials on TV, no fattening Christmas goodies -- where I spend the Advent season with me and God (and occasionally with the family of believers corporately) worshipping and studying and praying and meditating on the amazing fact that the God of the universe chose to take on human flesh and become one of us. And to wake up on Christmas morning genuinely overwhelmed with the joy and awe that such a truth should inspire in humanity.

Because that's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.

Thoughts While Playing Bunko at the Neighbor's House Last Night

- How do you play bunko again?

- Dang, women are loud.

- The evening's theme is PJs and breakfast food. I think this is the first breakfast event I've been to in San Antonio that didn't include salsa.

- And I've never drunk wine with my breakfast, either, but that and water are the only beverages available this evening.  Oh, wait!  Someone just brought in a pitcher of orange juice.  Awesome!  I love orange juice.  Wait . . . this isn't just . . . sigh! Glad I walked here.

- I got a bunko and a boobie, both in the first round before I had any idea what I was doing and understood the significance of either.

- Our new neighborhood seems to have a nice mix of ages.  We haven't had opportunity to meet many folks yet, so this is nice to see. All lily-white, though -- which is surprising in a town where anglos are in the minority. And a little disappointing to me, because part of the appeal of coming to San Antonio was that I might hook up with someone willing to talk Spanish to me and help me learn (Panama is still in the back of our minds).

- I love breakfast food. I wish my tummy wasn't acting up so much. What did I eat for lunch that's coming back to haunt me . . . ?

- Bunko's an interesting phenomenon. A friend in Sioux City invited me to a bunko night, so this is my second go at it. The game seems to be created simply as an excuse to mingle and chit chat. Frankly, it almost feels like speed dating.

- Dang, women drinking wine are LOUD.

- And these drinking women are not fond of Obamacare. One lady just found out their insurance is being cancelled -- the suggested replacement policy will have an $8000 higher deductible and cost them $3000 more a year.  Three women in the group work in healthcare (one's an occupational therapist, don't remember about the other two, if they said). They all say they knew this was coming from the moment Obamacare started being discussed. And they all say they are losing doctors at their places of employment (I want to ask if those doctors quit or were let go, but I'm not drinking enough wine to be loud enough to get a word in).

- Finally starting to remember how this game works. Not that it matters -- there's no skill involved whatsoever. But at least I can keep up with the competitive ladies who are really into this, of which there are a couple.

- A former first grade teacher in the group (who's expecting her third son in a couple months) and a mom of a first grader are talking about money and math. The mom's daughter is anxious to learn how to count money, but the first grade teacher tells her she won't learn that until second grade. That was her biggest frustration teaching, she says; she had some kids who were ready to move on to counting money and beyond, and then other kids who couldn't even name the coins. So many levels she had to accommodate . . . and the ESL kids mixed among them.  Yep. We give public school teachers an almost impossible job.

- And the hostess decides she's done with bunko after eleven rounds; time to stop and just drink. (These women aren't drunk or anything, I should clarify; it's just clear that some of them are really only here for the wine and the talk -- maybe they had rough days.) So, I end the night with six wins, five losses, one bunko and one boobie. Which wins me nothing out of the $5-a-lady pot. Oh, well. I didn't come to win money. Or to drink wine.

I came to meet my neighbors. And that's why I'll be back in December . . . with a $15 white elephant and a plate of hors d'oeuvres. Maybe I'll bring the salsa this time.

Mexican Breakfast Dishes for $400, Alex

An imaginary conversation with your standard Texan:

“What did you have for breakfast?”
“A breakfast taco.”
“Ah – I've had breakfast burritos, but breakfast tacos are new to me. What's in a breakfast taco?”
“Eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, cheese, salsa. That kind of thing.”
“Same stuff that's in a breakfast burrito, huh?”
“But it's a breakfast taco.”
“So, the tortilla is folded in half instead of wrapped around the filling.”
“No, a lot of times it's wrapped around it all.”
“Like a burrito.”
“Yep.”
“But it's a taco.”
“Yep. A breakfast taco.”
“Not a breakfast burrito.”
“Nope.”
“Why isn't it called a breakfast burrito?”
“Sweetie, you're in Texas now.”
 
The Lone Star State – where you can call a burrito a taco just 'cuz dat's whut it is, y'all. Sometimes, it seems that Texas is just all about being Texas.