Day 10 -An experiment

A few days have passed since my last update.  They weren't very interesting and I am not one to write just for the sake of having a daily update.  My writing needs purpose.  It has purpose today.

I have not been craving bread or crackers.  I have been craving breaded chicken.  I haven't wanted anything else as bad ever -not even as a pregnant woman craving sausage biscuit sandwiches with mustard and pickles.  Every time I eat all I see in my mind, marching across the fabric of my imagination, is a chicken breast patty coated in flour and fried golden crispy.

I gave in today.

A friend and I had completely good intentions as we exchanged my grill tank at the little corner gas station.  Braving the creepy, bearded man at the counter was the least of my concerns as I anticipated a grilled chicken dinner smothered in teriyaki sauce.  

Got the tank home and threaded it up to the grill.  Started it.  Waited for the flame and heat to burn the remnants of the last meal I grilled.  I went to check on it with 2 chicken breasts in hand and was greeted by the smell of gas.  No flame.  Try as I might I couldn't get the thing to stay lit.  

So I tried again -shut it off, rethreaded it, turned it on, pressed the little clicky ignitor button.  It roared to life.  Good.  I placed the breasts on the grill and was greeted with a satisfying sizzle.  I walked back into my house, entirely pleased with my mechanical genius.  

I checked on them a few more times, and while they were cooking a bit slowly for my taste, they were still cooking and the flame still danced in the bottom.  The next time I checked, however, I was greeted with that ominous, farty smell of gas again.  Sure enough: no flame.  Crap.  

I was not about to heat up my non-air conditioned house, which was already resembling an oven as it is, so we decided to hit up a local bar for some good old-fashioned, wholesome bar food.  It's not like there is much of a choice in this itty-bitty town anyway.

I already knew I wasn't going to be able to resist the crispy chicken sandwich even before stepping foot into the blissfully chilled recesses of the bar.  I went anyway.  Maybe I could just try eating the chicken and order it sans bun.  Then if my intestinal tract goes all mutinous I will know for sure that it is the gluten making me feel blah.  In the name of science and experimentation I would do it.  This is what I tell myself.

It took forever for the food to arrive.  But when it did.  Oh, when it did, it sang to me.  There it sat on a mound of shredded lettuce, onion, and tomato (the tomato was passed to my friend, pinched between 2 disgusted fingers...  tomato = ewie).  The golden halo around it sang in angel choir voices and it glistened like the dew after sunrise.  I pushed the intruding french fries to the side and went to work.  Bite after bite rolled around on my tongue, a waltz of flavor and ecstasy.  Until it was gone and I was left with that feeling you get at about 2 o'clock on Christmas Day, when all of your toys have been played with and you know that it is a whole year until you experience joy again.  And there was that other feeling.  The faint rumblings of the storm to come and the sensation of knowing what it feels like to be a birthday balloon.  Damn.

Guess tomorrow I go back to dreaming about breaded chicken while I bitterly munch rice crackers.

Day 7 -Results, anybody?

I have to admit I am a bit discouraged today.  I have yet to ingest gluten to my knowledge yet last night I woke up in the worst pain I have been in since childbirth.

It was about 1:30 am.  I had gone to bed about 2 hours prior.  Out of no where my eyes shot open and I sat straight up in bed.  I was on my feet and dashing to the bathroom before I even knew what was going on.  I won't go into detail about the next agonizing half hour -I will spare you your apetite and at least a shred of my dignity.  It was torturous to say the least.

The rest of the day was spent deciding whether eating was worth the abdominal upheaval or not.

It didn't help that it was hot as hell today.  The highway glittered in it.  Still wasn't as Hades-hot as North Carolina got even in April, but I had air conditioning in NC.  Nothing I own has it now.  Not my car, not my house.  Only the place I work.  I'm too hot to be inspired to write.  I think I'll read and go to bed.

Day 4- Riding the coaster

Well day 4 a success as well as 1-3 (except for that little mini-fail when I unrealizingly consumed 4 little cookie dough balls).  No gluten today.  And it wasn't so hard, except I am a bit hungry more often.  It could be that I just kept myself busy and quivering in anticipation of the LOST finale.

The morning started out like any other Sunday.  Boys up early, jolting me out of sweet slumber with agonized whines of hunger and requests to play the computer.  Went back to sleep for just a bit until Johnny Test annoyed me out of my craved coma.  Sometimes Netflix is more of a pain than it's worth.  Got up, fed the munchkins, and forgot to eat breakfast myself.

Went out to my partially finished garden and beat the crap out of some more grass clumps.  If mostly dried clumps weren't enough of a pain in my ass, it rained yesterday.  So I wrestled sodden clumps from the saturated soil.  Managed to spear myself a few times on the army of spikes fortifying the rose bush.  Wrestled with the coil of garden edging -I swear it laughed at me as it jumped out of the trench every time I shaped it around the garden curve.  In the end I conquered, sweaty, covered in mud; and the front of my home is much prettier as a result.

I discovered something for lunch!  Tuna fish on rice crackers hides the little crunchies that I ALWAYS find (yes, for some reason little crunchies end up in most of the food I eat -hot dogs, tuna, hamburgers...).  I even sliced up little discs of string cheese to garnish the top.  It seems that with my ban on bread I am destined to eating hors d'oeuvres for lunch.

The rest of the day was a sweltering, melty combination of waiting for LOST and putting out the fires of my younger son's temper.

Then LOST came on.  I have never watched a TV show where I have physically sat on the edge of my seat one moment, pumping my fist in victory, and the next I was curled up in a fetal position crying like a grieving widow.  I ate my customary bowl of popcorn (because that is one food love I haven't had to give up) and rode the roller coaster.  

Had a Pepsi.  

Now I am not tired.

And my water heater isn't working again.  They just "fixed" it.

We'll see what tomorrow brings.

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.

Obituary for My Car

Pontiac Sunfire, 14, died in his home on January 9, 2010 of natural causes.


There will be no service.


Sunfire was adopted from Sundance Chevrolet on June 14, 1999. He was well-loved by his owner all the days of his life. He enjoyed long drives through the country and sitting idle while waiting for his family. Sunfire lived in Michigan, working in private transportation, until 2006 when he relocated his family to North Carolina. He enjoyed a low-roadsalt life there until 2009 when circumstances led him back to Michigan. He continued 6 faithful months of daily driving until his health began to fail in November of 2009. It wasn't long after an extensive radiator replacement that he just couldn't hold on any longer. He died in his sleep from a broken head gasket. Doctors did not recommend life support.


Sunfire is survived by his owner, her 2 children, and her cat who will all miss him terribly.