Chia Fauxgurt

6 strawberries
2 Tbsp chia seeds
1/2 can coconut cream (not the liquid)
1 tsp honey
1 banana

Blend in a nutribullet or powerful blender. Chill.

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Dreams of Egypt

Last night I dreamed that I was a temple priestess. I was in Egypt, wearing soft, white robes and a headpiece or mask representing the head of a black cat. Clearly, I was in the Temple of Bast.

As in all of my dreams, I saw myself from outside my body before flying into it and inhabiting it and then, there I was, looking down at marble stairs descending into muddy water. The top steps weren’t submerged but I could see three or four which were, moving from clear down into golden-green water and becoming darker, siltier, deeper with each descending stair.

Behind me I could feel the temple, tall, brightly painted pillars, a vaulted height that may have been open to the sky, then an interior, cool and dim.

That was all. Priestess in the Temple of Bast looking at stairs leading down into the water. There are many ways to interpret this and I have my own but what I found most intriguing was the possibility that is or was an actual temple of this sort. I called upon my BFF, google.

3D Temple of Bastet from Photobucket, if you clicked that link and had a look around, you may think (as I did) that this is an artist’s rendering of what the temple looked like. It was certainly surrounded by water and so the looking down the steps would be accurate.

It is interesting to know that the temple did exist and is being excavated but even more interesting that the dream images were right on. HUGE DOUBLE RAINBOW! Or something almost as cool.

To read more about the Temple of Bastet at Bubastis click here.

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GAPS, Paleo, Primal Eating and the Challenge (because I did not feel like cooking!)

For 7 weeks I’ve been eating what is pretty purely the GAPS diet. No grains, starches or sugar other than honey. This all began as a way, I hoped, to help my sickies: my husband and my oldest daughter. However, as usual, what has happened is that I’ve been eating stringently, taking fish oil and probiotics, and abstaining from pasta and potatoes and they’ve been, sort of, trying.

What I’ve discovered: I can’t save them. Other than that, I have learned that corn upsets my stomach and that sugar makes me feel like I’m having a panic attack. Potatoes are delicious and pasts is pretty good but I don’t really miss it all that much. I feel perkier but haven’t lost any weight that I can tell, though maybe my belly is slightly less protuberant. It’s also true that I have put much more effort into meal prep and that’s a huge bunch of stress on me. No beans? REALLY?

Last night we went out to dinner at a local stuffy restaurant. Not my favorite. I was angling for something else but was outnumbered so there we went. The food was just okay. But that’s not the point! I ate mashed potatoes and a few french fries. My god they were good! I also ate doughnut holes, coated in powdered sugar, fresh from the frier and served with dipping sauces. They were sweet and hot and crunchy and delectable. And they kept me awake all night. I know this because I’ve done this before sans any other cheats. Sugar is like speed.

Now though it’s holiday time! Fudge and cookies and cupcakes and things. Oh, those wonderful, sugary things. Do I hang in there in spite of being tired of all of the effort or just give up and eat the easy things like spaghetti and that damned Bailey’s Irish Cream Fudge? 

Posted in food, health and well-being | 5 Comments

One Photo of the Inside of Our Red Tent

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Train of Thought: Heavy Cream

It’s 2012. Less than a month before the world ends.

Do I believe that? Well, I’m not sure. Honestly, I am a little bit concerned. I don’t want the world to end. I don’t want electricity to end. I want grocery stores and air conditioning and my van. I love my furnace.

But I’m standing in the kitchen and I think that if something bad does happen, barring a meteor hitting and obliterating the entire Eastern seaboard of the United States, then we might be okay. Because I’m standing here in the kitchen pouring heavy cream into my coffee. Heavy cream that’s pouring out of a little cardboard carton and I’m thinking, “I don’t suppose a little RBGH will kill me today.” (I never can remember which of those letters is supposed to be lower case. Sorry.) So anyway, here I am, separating the whey from my homemade, cultured creme freche with homemade, cultured, raw milk yogurt in the fridge and seven butchered deer in the freezer. We have gallons of pecans curing, quarts (not nearly enough, but some) of canned tomatoes, peaches, pickles, preserves and a lot of dehydrated veggies, too.

We have a fireplace. And lots of wood. We won’t freeze.

And then I think: Tina, you’re batshit crazy. The end isn’t near. The status quo will hold. That little bit of commercial dairy that your husband bought is probably not going to hurt you at all. Just drink the damned coffee.

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Oh wait, there it is, the rage I
couldn’t find the other
night, growling into my pillow, crying
frustration, pain, betrayal but not
rage. The rage was in absentia. Not now.
Here, wishing dead someone who has
hurt my children, someone who physically
attacked my older daughter, ripped her shawl
off of her in the Ladies room, with
an accomplice and then told her that she looks
like a hooker, like streetwalker, like a prostitute
like a whore. Same someone who has hurt both of my
grown sons. Is it okay to wish her dead?
Is it normal? These are not the same
question.

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INoGoToBloNoMo

I’m not going to blog (daily) no more.
I can’t take it. At the beginning of the month I had a couple of interesting things to talk about. Then I felt like a couple of boring posts were okay, because I’m trying, right? Now. I just don’t GiAFu. If you get my drift.
I don’t want to bore you, or myself. I’m done with daily.

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