My digestive track and I have been having some problems lately. I’m gurgly more often than not. So, what’s a girl to do what change up the norm and see what works and what doesn’t.
First Experiment: Paleo
I’m still on the fence about this as a long-term option. A part of me can’t help but think of Atkins. But that’s why I want to give it a shot, explore it and make a decision for myself. I have a dear friend with gut issues who swears by it (and her doc does not fuss at her, either). I’m definitely okay with the idea of less grain. I will not lie though, wine, cheese and a baguette is a treasured summertime pleasure. And beer is going to be tricky. I’ll try to rock out to cider and wine for a bit. Or I could always drink less, there’s an idea.
I don’t think the husband will mind the influx of meat into our home (I was working carefully to avoid a Malorie Archer moment there. But I will still make him grains to have on the side of his meals. (Duder cannot have pasta without a piece of bread or there would be a revolt).
Last night’s dinner was a home-run for the Paleo/Not Paleo Team¹:
We came home late after house viewing (!!!) and have drinks at our local. Normally if I have a little buzz I will quickly suggest takeout since my lazy factor rises at a startling curve. But with Paleo, the takeout options are few and far between at best. So, I heave-hoed into the kitchen and veered off-course of our scheduled meal. Instead of Sweet Potato & Chicken Salad (there were a few grocery errors¹ I discovered) I baked off two chicken breasts, one sweet potato (halved) for myself, cooked off enough rice to last James for two meals, wilted half of a bag of spinach and reheated the leftover ratatouille from Saturday night.
And before I say that it was delicious and all were happy I want to say that I’m very thrilled that my husband likes ratatouille (and goat cheese)! Also, obnoxious photo of said deliciousness to follow — I’m less afraid judging from the current rankings of the NPR Food Porn Poll.
¹Baseball jargon just for the hubs.
I’m reading The Hunger Games. Now I can make fun of it (or not) based on an actual opinion and not just hearsay.
It’s usually pretty slow at my bookstore on a Saturday morning. I’ve grown accustomed to sipping coffee and catching up all of my internets. I do the usual slough, Facebook, news, Tumblr, comics, and then resist the urge to watch “Midsomer Murders” on my phone.
It’s such a teeny store, a niche market for sure, but the subject matter is still quite foreign to me. I was never raised with Christianity but here I am recommending books for Confirmation gifts — nothing too dogmatic, not complicated writing, friendly, etc.
It’s a teeny place in terms of square feet, too, but we are jam packed with texts! I had to draw myself a little map of all the sections (Church History, Monastic Studies, Theology, Justice & Peace and so on). It’s nice to feel like I’ve gotten familiar enough to suggest things and point people in the right direction. I guess it’s as close as I will ever get to being a librarian, har har. My new responsibility is to input books into the inventory which I find to be really fun (nerd alert!)
Well, it looks like the hubs and I are going to have to move. Sigh. Our landlord has decided to raise our rent, which, after five years I can’t speak a word against. He is a very sweet guy and although its a little sad it may be time.
It’s harder for James than it is for me. This was his “first place”. His bachelor pad straight out of college. It’s where he came home after his first day teaching, not just subbing anymore, the first day of his career. It’s where he checked the internet for dates and left, hoping to meet the girl he would marry. It’s the house he slumped back to when he <I>did</I> meet his future wife - who, at the time had a boyfriend. Across the street, and visible from the front window, is where we had our first kiss. It’s the house I moved into and he lived with a girl for the first time. It’s where we came home after our wedding. It is, our first home, as much as a rental can be.
I’ve moved so often in my life that it’s like water off a duck’s back. In the last seven years I have lived in five places in this neighborhood alone! The only really difficult aspect of leaving our house is memories of my Dad. The last time I saw him before the second stroke was when he came to my birthday party last year. There is one little spot in my living room where I picture him sitting, talking to the dog and I still dissolves into tears.
But, it’s time to start fresh and new. We are newlyweds, afterall, this is part and parcel I guess. And now I get to envision other floor plans and kitchen organizing — everyone knows how much I hate that!
I’m planning my own “retirement” party. I have been working in the same cafe for 8½ years. I was getting exhausted and burned out anyway, and when I lost my father, had the store sold on a day to a new guy, got pregnant, lost the baby and then got married, I figured it’s time.
My last day is slated to be on “Star Wars Day” (May 4) and I cannot tell you how thrilled I am. I’m ready to move on in more ways than I can say!