Gobsmacked

The British have the best words for everything: "crisps" sound so much more delightful than potato chips, "knackered" conveys more exhaustion than American words for tired, "washing up liquid" seems cleaner than dish soap, and the list goes on. My favorite Briticism of all describes exactly how I am feeling today--

Gobsmacked.

It means stunned, astonished, slack-jawed with disbelief--as if some plonker jolly well smacked you right in your squidgy gob.

Monday night, things went decidedly pear-shaped between Romney and I.  As shared in my previous post, I was too bewildered by the skidding halt of our relationship to really process much.  The Tuesday that followed was one of the most incomprehensible, grief-filled 24 hours of my life. Evidently, it was no picnic for Romney, either.

We got together last night to talk over what he had been going through since our break up.

What he shared totally took my breath away.  To sum up, the sense of crisis he felt Tuesday after our break up led him to spend all of Wednesday seeking God, who came through dramatically with life-changing epiphanies.  Many things were revealed to Romney, including that he and I belong together, that our relationship is worth fighting for, and that--perhaps most miraculously--Romney really is genuinely in love with me.

There was much he shared that will remain just between the two of us, things for us to treasure and pray about and thank God for as a couple.  I can share this much with confidence: because of Romney's encounter with God, the specifics of what he shared and how he shared it, I know beyond all doubt that our relationship is deeper, stronger, and more blessed than it could have been without the heartache of its demise and the soul searching that followed it.

I'm beyond stunned, more than overwhelmed, and brimming with unspeakable awe.  It's been a roller coaster, these last 72 hours. I know it's probably overreaching, but I wonder if the 3-day time period could be more than a coincidence. I can't keep from thinking about the theme of resurrection.  Monday our relationship flatlined, Tuesday it was dead and buried, and Wednesday it was revived to more life than it had ever had. God can take something beyond hope and so breathe Himself into it that it not only comes back to life, it transcends its former state and rises to a more glorious level.

It's too bad that Godsmacked is already taken by the band, or I could claim I came up with the term to describe that feeling you get when God totally tonks your life and straight away your sixes-and-sevens are transformed to smashing brilliance, you spawny blighter!

I will close out this post with the scripture that has been ringing in my head like a beautiful bell all day...

"Behold, I make all things new."

Woman loses 170 pounds overnight!

So Romney is gone.  He is leaving Tucson tomorrow, but he has already left me behind.
I have been through break ups before, and this one was perhaps the least dramatic as far as emotional discharge.  Our year-long relationship simply vanished with one brief statement, zapped into oblivion by this little incantation:

"I love you, but I'm not in love with you.".

I can share this here, confident that Romney won't see it.  To illustrate his statement, Romney loved me enough to encourage me to start a blog, but was never interested enough in my thoughts to ever bother reading it.  There are many other examples. In fact, I knew the truth of Romney's statement before he did.

Of course this is for the best, and I don't harbor any bitterness toward Romney.  He needed to come to this realization, and he needed to be brutally honest with me--and most of all himself--about his lack of passion for me.
Even so, I feel like shit.  One year down the toilet, so many sacrifices and dreams and affection brought to nothing.  And all because I'm just not...enough.

I know there is nothing to be done for it.  I'm not what his heart desires, and there is no helping that.  But I will grieve in my own way.  I don't even know what that will look or feel like. The analysis will undoubtedly come later, but for now I'm just stunned, standing here bewildered and blinking.

I left Romney with my blessing.  May God grant him the desires of his heart.  Amen.

And here is another day, morning coffee and planning my activities and yammering away on my little blog.  I will keep going through the motions.  "Just keep swimming."

Feasting and Forgetting

Thanksgiving always reminds me, as it is designed to, that I am one incredibly blessed person.  I have a wonderful family and amazing friends and the most ideal boyfriend I could have dreamed up for myself-- my privileged, well-fed American self.

Now, just a few days past Thanksgiving with all of its bounty and grateful reflection and people I love, I feel so...blah. Dispassionate.  Not sad exactly, but like there is nothing much to be happy about.  This, I know, is a lie.

It's funny how we human beings can be so prone to short-sightedness.  How frequently we need reminding of all the good things in life, our history of being blessed and of bad things turning around for the good.  No matter how great and glorious and consistent our past triumphs, it seems one small setback can so cloud our vision we can't see any blue sky.

Or, like the crowds that were following Jesus in John 6, sometimes we're just blind.

Here we have the familiar story of Jesus miraculously feeding the hungry multitudes that had been following him.  With just His blessing, a few loaves and fishes became a feast so abundant that the disciples collected twelve baskets of leftovers.  I can't help but be reminded of our fridge groaning under the weight of all the Thanksgiving leftovers we crammed into it a few days ago.

In John 6, after the crowds had feasted and witnessed Christ's outrageous provision, they are naturally pretty impressed:

¹⁴ After the people saw the sign Jesus performed, they began to say, “Surely this is the Prophet who is to come into the world.” ¹⁵ Jesus, knowing that they intended to come and make him king by force, withdrew again to a mountain by himself.

Here's where it gets crazy.  Just a few measly verses later, this is what that very same crowd asks Jesus:

³⁰ So they asked him, “What sign then will you give that we may see it and believe you? What will you do? ³¹ Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written: ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’^[c]”

Are they really this stupid?.  John 6 mentions that this conversation takes place one day after the miraculous feast.  There is much to be gleaned from the handful of verses that contain the entire dialogue.  In fact, the conversation Jesus has with this crowd marks a dramatic turning point in His ministry.  What strikes me most about it now, however, is just how blindingly forgetful we followers of Jesus can be.  Lord help us in our spiritual dementia.

The sun doesn't disappear when it rains.  Yet it still seems our nature to feel orphaned in a storm.  Just a little drizzle on my parade is all it takes to shake my faith sometimes.

Two days into my new job with the Red Cross, they fired me (although I am eligible for rehire they tell me).  It appears there was a failure to communicate about my Christmas travel plans, and upon clarification I was promptly told to grab my things and leave.  It was a stunning development, but also an answer to prayer.  I didn't want this job if it would detract from the bigger plan of resuming my dental hygiene career. I prayed that if this job wasn't right, then the door would shut.  They couldn't have slammed it much harder than that!

My quest for a dental hygiene job has been disappointing, but not fruitless.  I was hired for an on-call position, they just haven't "on-called" me yet.  I have some dental hygiene temp work lined up for next week which will pay my bills (thank GOD!), so I already know I am going to be Okay.

It just doesn't feel that way.

But then, I'm not feeling much of anything right now.  In my mind I know life is good and God is great.  My heart, however, seems to be on lithium--it's beating, but not with much enthusiasm.

So I'm praying for some anti-lithium, or anything to reignite some passion.  Maybe I just need to watch Annie again to be reminded that the sun'll come out...tomorrow.  Or Gone With the Wind..."tomorrow is another day."  I could use a dose of Annie meets Scarlet O'Hara tenacity and hopefulness.

Maybe that's where I'll start--with Netflix :0)

Caveman Salad

Here is how our Paleolithic/Caveman ancestors assembles their salads:

Spring greens, avocados, grape halves, olives, walnuts, diced red bell pepper, salmon, dab of mayo, dablets of Sriracha  hot chili sauce

And I'm pretty sure this is how
they made their pumpkin pie:

Notice that there is a rather large piece missing.  I tried to take a picture of the whole pie but I had to fight my way in there so by the time I could snap the photo this was all that remained.
As you might gather, no one in our household seems to be suffering with this adjustment to our diets.  Just to remind you what we are doing, we have removed processed food, grains, legumes, and dairy (for the most part, but more on that later).  So we eat meat, seafood, eggs, fruits, veggies, nuts (but not peanuts), seeds, and healthy oils.

It's easy to imagine a salad coming together under those guidelines, but the pie took some creativity.
For the crust, I spread about a cup of unsweetened shredded coconut on the bottom of the pie tin and up the sides as much as I could.  I made the pumpkin custard more or less the traditional way but with two main differences: no dairy, and no sugar.

Rather than milk, I substituted canned coconut milk (the really thick, rich kind).  Instead of sugar, I used about 3/4 cup Organic Blue Agave Syrup (this was for filling for two pies).  In addition to being an unprocessed plant product, Agave syrup has a really low glycemic index.  This means it doesn't spike your blood sugar like other sugars do.  It's that spike in blood sugar that releases insulin, and insulin that makes you pack on fat.

The pies, kind of surprisingly, tasted like heaven.  I suppose they would keep well when refrigerated, but they weren't around long enough to find out.

I'm having a lot of fun taking the "bad" stuff out of good recipes and finding out what happens.
Here is an experiment that went over as big as the pumpkin pie:

Seafood and sausage stuffed red bell peppers with mild Italian sausage, swai, celery, onions, minced garlic, cilantro, hemp hearts, shredded cheddar*, and seasoning

This recipe called for milk and breadcrumbs.  Instead, I used that same coconut milk and some delicious little hulled seeds called Hemp Hearts, which you can buy at Costco or health food stores:

They taste for all the world like ground pine nuts, and have a soft texture that melts in your mouth without crunch. I put them in or on everything within reason.  Here is how they look out of the bag:

Hemp Hearts--so yummy!

They're crazy high in Omega oils, so you can't eat too many.

Now about the dairy.  Here is why there is that asterisk* by the cheddar cheese listed under the stuffed peppers:

Dr. Oz has suggested that people trying to get rid of their belly fat eat an ounce of cheese at every meal.  I'm not entirely sure why, but it stands to reason that it would help balance insulin levels.  When I was in home healthcare, I know many of my diabetic patients were counseled to eat cheese as a snack to help keep their insulin levels stable.  Works for me, so that is the main way we are deviating from the hardcore, knuckle-dragging and club-wielding version of the Paleo diet. Plus, I will eat sausage or bacon now and then, which you could argue is a "processed" food.  But I wouldn't listen if you did ;0)

In addition, Dr. Oz recommends daily Garcinia Cambogia supplements,
(See Dr. Oz's video about Garcinia Cambogia here:
Dr. Oz Garcinia Cambogia)
which I have been taking faithfully for the past week while I have been eating the Paleo/Caveman way.

While implementing these changes, I have eaten exactly how much I have wanted, when I wanted, with no thought to counting calories or limiting portions.  I eat until I am satisfied, and stop before I'm stuffed.
The final verdict is how I feel, and how much weight I've lost.  I feel better than I have in months, and this past week I have lost a total of (drumroll)...

SEVEN AND A HALF POUNDS.

Just FYI, I am also doing very moderate cardio but just started adding free weights to the mix yesterday.

This may not be for everyone, but boy am I glad I got with the Paleo program!

Inspiring photographs that made me LOL

I KNOW you're gonna love these!

Click HERE for some weird, wild, wacky stuff :0)

Pumpkin Bread, Kristi Style

The Finished Product

 

 

Sure you can find a recipe and follow it to the letter, but how boring!  Where is the adventure in that?

Here is how you make pumpkin bread the sporting way:

For starters, I recommend making this in someone else's kitchen if you have the opportunity.  This makes it more like one of those reality cooking competitions where you don't know what you've got to work with until the last minute.

If you can help it, don't look around too much in the cupboards beforehand.  There is probably flour or a flour like substance around.  In my case, I got by with pancake mix and some leftover blueberry muffin mix.

Now, quickly glance through a few online recipes to get the general gist of what should go into the batter.  One thing I already knew I would need for pumpkin bread: pumpkin.

I knew I would also need eggs so I bought those at the store along with the pumpkin.  I was pretty sure there was oil and sugar in the house, and I figured everything else I needed would either be available or improvised.  For me, that is the best part of cooking--seeing what the recipe evolves into based on what I discover in the kitchen.

Preheat the oven to whatever feels right.  In this case, 350 degrees seemed like a safe bet.  Find whatever cooking pans you are going to bake the bread in.  I found a small disposable loaf pan and a muffin tin.  Make sure to grease them before you put the batter in.

Start by dumping the flour or flour-esque ingredients into a mixing bowl.  Since I started with pancake and muffin mix, I didn't need to add leavening.  But if you're using plain flour, add around a teaspoon each of baking powder and baking soda.

Now start adding the pumpkin, and see what else is around to throw in there.  I found applesauce and several pumpkin-friendly spices like ginger, clove, nutmeg, and cinnamon.  Don't bother measuring any of this.  Use your sense of smell to gauge how the batter is coming along.  When it smells yummy, taste it a bit to see what else is needed.  Of course you're going to need loads of sugar, and a bit of salt.  I also added chopped walnuts because I had some handy.  I thought about adding raisins, too, but somehow this felt wrong.  I then mixed in three eggs, because that was what was left in the carton that was already in the fridge before I bought more.  Then I added some oil and mixed it all up to make sure it wasn't too dry or too wet.  It was perfect, smelled amazing, and had a nice orange pumpkin-y color.

If you're eager to take a sneak peak at how your batter will bake up, you can try my little trick:  Put about a quarter cup of batter in a coffee cup and microwave it for about one minute.  This will give you a general idea of how the flavors will bake together and how the consistency will be when done.  Plus, you get to enjoy a great snack :) When I did this, I discovered the batter still needed a bit more sugar, which I dumped in liberally.  After the second coffee cup test, I could tell I had it right and was ready to bake. 

I don't usually time things, but again I use my sense of smell to determine when things are getting close to done.  When the kitchen started smelling like a bakery, I used the toothpick test to determine that the muffins were done.  I could see that the loaf, however, was still gooey in the middle so that was left to bake a bit longer.  I will probably check it again in about 15 minutes unless things start to smell too cooked and take it out before that.

The muffins are cooling now, and I'm finishing my coffee cup of pumpkin bread.  That, my friends, is how I usually whip something up in the kitchen--Kristi style :0)

Tomorrow I start my Paleo diet, so I'll be sharing some of my kitchen adventures with that, too.

Un Plato de Nirvana

Not this kind of Nirvana...

THIS kind...

 

Oh. My. Heavens.

 

No need for a to go box this day.  My plateful of bliss was provided by chef Susana Davila of Café Poca Cosa, possibly the coolest place I have ever eaten.

 

 

 

When I say cool, I mean elegant, trendy, and too hip for a menu.  Rather, the wait staff come by with a handwritten chalkboard listing the available fare.  This isn't a conceit, but a necessity.  Chef Davila isn't constrained by a menu but rather flows with her imagination and what ingredients are currently available and of the highest quality.  Therefore, the chalkboard needs to be updated every two hours or so.

Our server recounted the ins and outs of each menu item with an almost surgical knowledge of ingredients, preparation methods, and other unique features without coming across as unctuous or snooty.  In short, she was really selling it.

And we were buying it.  My girlfriends and I each went for the famous Plato Poca Cosa.  This offering is legendary: Three surprise entrees of the chef's choosing arranged as beautifully as any floral bouquet.  Each of us had a uniquely crafted plate with completely unique entrees.  Here was mine:

 

Starting a 6 o'clock you have a perfectly seasoned shredded beef taco in a handmade corn shell baked in roasted salsas and topped with fresh pico de gallo.  In the center you have a delicious salad of spring greens and shredded beets garnished with a fresh pineapple wedge.  At 12 o'clock is my favorite entrée because it was so surprising: a sweet corn masa tamale pie garnished with stewed plums.  Incredibly delicious and rich.  Then rounding out the plate at 4 o'clock you have a melt-in-your-mouth breast of chicken in a hearty red mole sauce.

 

Dang, Chef Davila.  I wanted to kiss her by the time I was finished.

 

So if you come to Tucson to visit me, you know where I'm taking you for lunch!