Blood, Sweat, and Tears.

The title sounds a little dramatic. What s’more, it might be marshmallow dramatic. But it’s what came to my mind and I’ll stick with it for now. (If at this point you think I’ve totally gone crackers, click this link: s’mores.)

I read an article somewhere lately. I’m not sure where the article was or even where I was at the time, but the gist of it was that people with type O positive blood seem to attract female mosquitoes when they’re searching for a victim. The insult to injury is the mosquito needs the blood to help her produce eggs (which basically means more mosquito bites for me).  I ran out of time at that point and my response was, “Oh, mos quit.” Or, mos quit o.  Or not. I have O+ blood. I get mosquito bites when other people think there are no mosquitoes around. Those people notice when I leave the area, though, because the female mosquitoes are paying attention to their biological clock as it ticks and they are less picky about blood type when I’m not around.

The type O blood is a bigger problem than that, though. I have been trying to assist some folks with ordering invitations and printed napkins. Type O is coming through there, too.  The invitation typo was easily set straight. The font was easy to copy and the missing letter was an I at the end of a word. For no extra charge (other than a little sweat and almost tears), I was able to add the missing “i” so they wouldn’t look like minion or pirate invitations. And the hosts’ last name was spelled correctly.

The second typo might not be as easy to clean up, even though they are napkins. An errant comma gives pause where it doesn’t belong. After 60 years, they who hesitate too much might not get there. Or they might like a little nap on the way. But it looks a little strange and I may end up ordering more (e’en). It’s not worth it to distract people who know about commas from the main event.

I will cut this post a bit short because I’m on my way out the door to help someone else with some projects in her yard. The forecast is calling for sweat. But as long as I don’t focus on the last three letters between meals, I should be okay.

The tears go along with a decoupage project I’m struggling with. The last decoupage project I did was probably forty-eight years ago (give or take a few minutia). I haven’t cried over this project (yet), but I have torn the paper enough to have to rethink how I’m going to achieve success. I may have to rename the project and try a different technique. I have a habit of doing crafts the same way I cook. (If you’ve read my book, you might remember the Tarragon Chicken recipe I was using turned into Marjoram Pork when I discovered I didn’t have the key ingredients as I was attempting to prepare the meal.)

I’ll leave the rest of the story for when I finish it.  I’m sorry for any typos that may be in this post.

 

Happy Birthday to Me.

Happy Birthday to Me.

I had a lovely day today. Fifty five years of age doesn’t seem as old as it used to.

I made banana chick flips (pancakes made with garbanzo beans) for breakfast and someone cleaned up the kitchen after me.

I  had pan seared sea scallops for lunch at a restaurant. I like to order things that I’m less likely to cook at home. The restaurant was no sugar added friendly (the waitress knew what was safe and offered alternatives).

Supper was grilled chicken and chopped salad prepared by my hubby. I made the cake and ice cream.

I didn’t take a picture of the ice cream, but I’ll tell you how I made it.

1 can coconut milk, 6 frozen bananas, 1 tsp vanilla extract, 1/2 tsp salt, 1/4cup peanut butter, 1/4 cup cocoa powder. Food processor pulsed until smooth. I put it in a container and then in the freezer. I stirred it after an hour. I stirred it again just before serving. It’s dairy and gluten free. And there’s no added sugar. It’s not diet food. But it worked nicely for a birthday party. The “cake” was good, too.

There was much more to my day than food. And it was all good.

 

Things are starting to gel.

Things are starting to gel.

As in the jam jammed, for one.

I went to my exercise class this morning. My new studio shoes are working quite well. I had noticed a bit of knee and hip pain creeping in, but new shoes seem to have taken care of that. Continue reading “Things are starting to gel.”

Comfort. A Peace of my Mind. Better than Fat Her’s Day. 

Comfort. A Peace of my Mind. Better than Fat Her’s Day. 

This morning I did a search for a phrase in my blog collection. I was was wondering if I had ever written a piece about Fat Her’s Day.  For some reason, this post showed up.

Source: Comfort. A Peace of my Mind.

Feel free to click the link and read it. Or just keep reading here. I’m not really sure why that one matched, but I’m glad it did. It helped me recognize that I have been numbing with food for a few days. It’s not comfort. It’s numbing. Just masking discomfort. Continue reading “Comfort. A Peace of my Mind. Better than Fat Her’s Day. “

Whatcha June? Ate? (Written on 6/8/2017)

Whatcha June? Ate? (Written on 6/8/2017)

It’s one of those days. I was making my smoothie this morning. Fresh ginger. Fresh mint (picked from my back yard moments earlier). Frozen mango. Whey powder. Acacia Fiber. Chia (good chia). Baby spinach. Grapefruit seltzer. MCT oil (that’s Medium-chain triglyceride derived from coconut oil). As I poured the green goodness into my quart-sized canning jar, I thought it resembled a shamrock shake. Continue reading “Whatcha June? Ate? (Written on 6/8/2017)”