Home on the Range.

Home on the Range.

Well, actually, we’re just visiting.

The picture is of my supper the other night. It was cooked on top of the range, because there wasn’t a microwave. Leftover roasted veggies with two over easy duck eggs on top. I sprinkled a bit of shredded cheese on top and that was my version of a Denny’s skillet.

Tonight we’ll be processing antelope. I’ll let you know how it goes. (When they’re alive, they can run 70 mph. But this one won’t be running anywhere.)

That’s all from the edge of the Rockies today. Sugar free. Life is sweet. And sometimes tweet.

Western bluebird. Picture taken by my daughter in her front yard.

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Oh, hello!

Oh, hello!

The road passes through Ohio! A greeting between two hugs. The road is quite smooth with a stop at a booth and not a whole lot of bugs.

We made it through the east midwest quicker than we thought. A weather forecast full of storms helped our trip to plot.

I owe a debt of gratitude to my Iowan relatives. We had a visit and a restful night in the lovely home where they lives!

We had a stop in North Platte–a place that is mostly flat. There are rail tracks galore and during the war, they rolled out a welcome mat.

But now we are in Wyoming. For a while we are stopping the roaming. Our cells are often off ’cause the service is a laugh and the data charges cause moaning.

I’m eating just three meals a day. Keeping addiction at bay. Using my tools with my PNP rules. And writing on here when I may!

PS. These rhythms and rhymes may not make sense–I’ve been adding to this all week. Posting this while I have a chance to speak.

Duck, duck, goose.

Duck, duck, goose.

It’s been long enough since I played that game that I really don’t know how it goes. And there’s the start of another rhyme–I just can’t leave it to prose.

I thought of a joke or maybe a yolk as I got myself going this morning. I can’t quite remember (e’en though it’s September) but I’ll try and that’s enough warning!

A duck walked into bar one day–perhaps ’twas a goose instead:

It forgot to duck and laid an egg, not behind, but on top of its head.

The news from my girl in Wyoming: the ducks laid two eggs today. So in my scramble to write something down, this is what I can say.


Addiction can be rather tricky. It slips in things unaware. But I’m writing my thoughts with no ink blots and I’m showing myself that I care!

Three meals today. Two on the road. I brought my dinner and lunch. There’s no cause to snack, so I didn’t pack anything else to munch!

No sugar added and life is sweet. And that’s enough of this rhythm and beat!

Not too Chicken. Actually, I Can.

Not too Chicken. Actually, I Can.

I set out to accomplish a task (bake fried chicken, in case you don’t ask). I put in paprika–that is the tricka–and now in the taste I can basque.

Well, I don’t really think this is Basque style chicken. I could ask my nephew who is walking across Spain right now. But maybe I’ll just leave it at this. It was really good. I’m basking in the memory of it.

I don’t usually buy chicken with the skin and bones. But last week I had lunch with an old friend of mine (she’s turning 99 soon) and she made oven fried chicken.

There was something quite wonderful about the crispy chicken skin. When I write it like that, it doesn’t sound so wonderful. I’ll let the picture finish the thought.

Chicken thighs were on sale last week. I quickly rushed to the store. ‘Cause I wanted to try the oven bake fry–though it’s loaded with cal’ries galore.

I used Betty Crocker’s recipe, but went a little nuts. Instead of wheat, I used almond flour–no gluten ands or buts.

(Speaking of gluten free and buts, I went to a yoga class yesterday and we did a glute free pose. I don’t actually have a sensitivity to gluten, but processed grains are like sugar to me.)

In the process of baking my chicken, I made a new batch of jam. This time it’s a peach of a traffic jam and I did it ’cause, simply, I can.

I grew the little hot peppers in a pot in my little back yard. I won’t even try it–the sugar’s so high it would make my life very hard.

Detox from sugar is simply a pain when a voice in my head screams, “Eat more, again!”

This writing seems silly, and not very smart, but it’s what I can do with my head and my heart

To keep free of sugar’s addictive control and lighten my load as I journey in goal!

In the process of writing my blog posts, there’s an option to pick categories and tags. I’m still in learning mode for that (instead of a la mode). If you landed here hoping to learn something about addiction recovery, this is it. I am a recovering sugar addict and I write as part of my sugar management program.

If you want to know more, I simply implore you to take a look at my book. Peek inside, free, or buy it and see–in paper or Kindle or Nook!

The I’m Possible Journey: Learning to Live with Sugar Addiction.

Best wishes to you.

Accomplish-meants.

Accomplish-meants.

I was thinking about accomplishments and what I meant to do. (That sounds like the start of a rhyme to me–does it sound like that to you?)

I’m not known for following directions well. When I start out cooking dinner, I never really can tell…what we’re going to eat.

Tonight I meant to make oven fried chicken, but instead we had ginger mango chicken stir fry with spinach. I accomplished making supper which is the thing I needed to do.

Continue reading “Accomplish-meants.”

Grand can yon.

Grand can yon.

In my quest to manage sugar addiction instead of it managing me, I’ve found it fairly easy to be in control while I’m traveling hither and yon. It’s something I can do and it’s pretty grand. Until, yawn, I get a bit tired. Grand can, yawn.

Seriously, though, for the sake of folks I travel with and also my own sanity, it’s totally worth it for me to pack food and read labels to keep sugar out of me.

This past spring, my newly retired (from work–I didn’t retire him) husband and I took a five and a half week road trip. I got a little weary of the no sugar drill. So I convinced myself I could eat some tempura shrimp when we were having supper in Page, Arizona. Flour pretty much equals sugar in my body.

My husband said we could just find another restaurant, but I didn’t want to. I just wanted supper without any hassle. The owner of the restaurant was trying to figure out how to accommodate my food needs and said he could do gluten free. I grabbed onto that and said I would try it. My husband asked if I was sure. I said I would find out if it affected me and go from there. I was just tired of the hassle.

Reality was that I was actually just delaying the hassle. I will spare you the details. It wasn’t worth it other than the reinforcement that it wasn’t worth it. The following pictures are nicer memories of that day.

I recovered and discovered that I’m Possible still. Sugar addiction feeds a bitter pill–after it’s given a treat. I’d rather be more run of the mill and feeling life is sweet.

It’s possible in the desert for the flowers to bloom. And it’s possible for me to say I’ve no room–for things that are simply not good for me. I stay in control. Sugar free.

I’m reminded just now of a few years ago when someone was offended by me talking about sugar addiction so much. I’ve learned to not speak of it in certain circumstances, but I’ve also learned that staying aware of the consequences is a good strategy for me to stay in control of the addiction.

Sometimes speaking and hearing are the reinforcement I need in the moment. It’s that or suffering in silence until the consequences hit.

My recent recapture of Weight Watchers free lifetime etools while being at home is a big deal. It’s much easier for me to stay in control on road trips. My pattern at home hasn’t been as good.

But I feel like I’m going in the right direction at home again. And its partially because I’m going in the write direction. Because I can.

I’ll be headed out on the road again soon. My suitcase isn’t packed yet, but my food supply is. We’re not going to the Grand Canyon, but I’m taking my can yon. It’s grand.