Day 3- Sick of fries already.

I want bread.  Bad.  Or at least something breaded and fried.  Hell, fried bread dipped in batter sounds like heaven to me right now...

Took my boys out to lunch today.  Were were just going to get something quick and fast-foody, but what can I eat on that menu?  Fries?  I was never really all that crazy about them to begin with.  And you need the bun on a burger to disguise the little bits of gristle and crunchies that inevitably end up in my food.

It was even slim-pickins on the menu at Logans.  I ended up with steak, steamed broccoli, and you guessed it, fries.  I am not a voracious consumer of red meat, I prefer chicken or turkey, but when going to a restaurant the last thing you want is something you could just as easily fix at home.  Grilled chicken fits that category for me.  Now, I would have LOVED a plate of chicken fingers with some honey mustard to drown them in, but they are breaded. [Insert exasperated sigh here]

I am so annoyed by my ban on breading that I am shamelessly annoying the cat and poking his tail with my toe while he tries to nap.  He keeps twitching it at me and giving me that look.  The one that says, "bitch, you do that again and I will cut you." Maybe I should stop.

Dinner promises to make up for some of my culinary annoyances.  I'm making teriyaki shrimp stir fry with bok choy, carrots, and mushrooms.

Day 2 -For Want of an Onion Ring

So I'm still hanging in there -no gluten has passed my lips, although an onion ring incident today just about sent me over the edge.  

My son and I went to Hardees after his counseling appointment.  It amazes me that nearly everything on the menu worth passing my lips and enduring intestinal discomfort for has wheat something in it or surrounding its juicy goodness.  He ordered a cheeseburger and onion rings.  I ordered the only thing I could find that was not breaded or bunned.  French fries and a milk shake...

-shit, my shake had like 4 bits of cookie dough!  I have been tainted!  Does this mean I have failed?  I really didn't realize...  I'll have to be more careful.  That gluten is a sneaky bastard.  Mini fail.

Anyway, our food arrived and one of his onion rings slipped saucily from its little paper pouch.  It rolled to a stop atop his grease-stained bag and looked at me.  It whispered tendrils of oniony aroma and dared me to take a bite.  My son wouldn't mind.  He loves to share with his momma.  I looked at my basket of limp fries, a poor substitute for the golden rings singing to me from across the table.  I could see in my mind reaching for it: that wayward, rebellious little O.  I could see my mouth opening to invite it in, the explosion of flavor intensity swirling around my tongue. And then I could see the possibility of me running for the bathroom, bloated and groaning.  I scowled and shoved a fry in my mouth.

Dinner was blah.  The boys got to eat chicken cordon bleu mini bites, brussel sprouts, and an orange.  I got Activia and an orange.  I'm hungry again already.  Damn, I wish I had an onion ring...

Day 1 -Probable Fail.

Day 1 of my gluten-free trial.

Small victory for me! I have had absolutely NO gluten today so far! (Please neglect to notice that is only 6:51 am). VERY small victory. I did manage to resist the toast I made for the boys so I guess it counts.

I will ignore the fact that in my mind I have already failed. I have already given in and stuffed my face with breaded chicken or a tuna fish sandwich, dripping with cheese and onions and lettuce and, OK, I'll stop now. Or breakfast will end up being a delight of carb-induced deliciousness. Desert could inevitably be the intestinal fireworks that have been plaguing me since childhood.

So I have decided that I will try to avoid these little composites that give bread products their chewy goodness. For 2 weeks. I will rebel against the urge to rebel as my nature dictates that as soon as I tell myself that I can't have something my cravings get all military and march right through my resolve. My will-power is covered in muddy boot prints.

We'll see how this goes.

Reflections on a Lone Flower

I took a walk in the woods today. And as I picked my way across the occasional strewn boulder or exposed root, I contemplated new beginnings and new life -and my life. I do this every spring. I know, cliche. Hardly the topic for riveting reading.

I looked for something in nature to express how I have been feeling lately. I pondered a stream that wandered through rocky banks and half-exposed trees. It gurgled contentedly at me and swirled a wayward leaf.

I paused and photograhed a bald, lanky tree that had fallen into a neighboring sapling, causing it to grow crookedly, accomodating the dead weight. The friction of tree-on-tree groaned at me with a passing breeze.

Then I noticed something in my path. I almost missed it, actually, almost stepped on it, crushing it with my size sevens. Upon further research I found it to be Houstonia serphyllifolia, otherwise known as Thymeleaf Bluet. This dainty wildflower is everywhere in the woods, but never alone. It always has the company of many others of its kind. Seeing a solitary bloom thrust through a carpet of moss caught my attention.

This miniature invasion to the worn footpath sums up nicely how I have been feeling of late. A unique creature, surrounded by a different species. Separated from others of its kind. Blown by the wind to an isolated location, left to thrive in a spot where it can be stepped on, kicked over, crushed by a wayward passerby.

I resisted the urge to claw into the moss and underlying soil to free it from its precarious location. Would my interference save the delicate bloom or cause its demise? Will the inevitable foot traffic snap the stem, cutting it off from its water supply? I told myself I was being rediculous, it's only one of thousands, an insignificant weed.

I trekked on, conflicted, but not looking back. In hindsite I should have saved it and transplanted it alongside its family. Maybe that would give my situation some hope, myself some anticipation of survival. But I am being rediculous. After all, I am no delicate flower.