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)”

Mot I’ve ate. Or Motivate.

Mot I’ve ate. Or Motivate.

She who hesitates contracts
A pause trophy can win
Instead of eating up her words
And heading out of thin.
(Impossible turns to I’m Possible
And that’s the start of begin.)

What motivates a mouth to eat
A feeling into numb. Continue reading “Mot I’ve ate. Or Motivate.”

Stressed:dessertS

Stressed:dessertS

The solution to stressed is not desserts. it’s a backwards approach at best. Unless it is simply to back away without caving to the test. Turning to food like a numbing drug is not the answer I know. Give me a run or a paper and pun. ‘Tis a vent so I don’t have to blow. That imag’ry conjures the thought of a whale–the size I approached e’re I’m Possible tale. Ive used AAA to change my attire. From Michelin padded to thin as a wire*. With the Weight Watchers tools and some bright line rules. Awareness, Acceptance, Adapting. No fools.

Stress is a matter of fact part of life. It can’t be knocked out with a spoon fork or knife. Just dealt with: good choices for heart healthy life..

* poetic license. I’m not as thin as a wire, but I wear size small!

I wrote this post with a Weight Watchers prompt. It could seem like it’s all about prose. If you read with a beat, you might find it neat: an amateur poem’s how it goes.

I’m on my way to Denver and then to my daughter’s new home. Where she lives with her hubby, (neither is chubby) in the land where buffalo roam.

I’m leaving New England in winter clothes–landing in Laramie where it still snows.

I’m going to visit a week and a day. I hope to see deer and antelope play!

My plan is to eat three meals a day, drink lots of water, and see brand new hay. I’ll help paint some rooms, shovel some snow and look for spring’s blooms.

I’ll write and take pictures but don’t know if I’ll post. Wyoming’s cell service is scanter than most.

And now it’s time for airplane mode.  I have a 5 hour layover in Denver. Feel ftee to comment. I’ll respond!

Stressed:dessertS

Stressed:dessertS

The solution to stressed is not desserts. it’s a backwards approach at best. Unless it is simply to back away without caving to the test. Turning to food like a numbing drug is not the answer I know. Give me a run or a paper and pun. ‘Tis a vent so I don’t have to blow. That imag’ry conjures the thought of a whale–the size I approached e’re I’m Possible tale. Ive used AAA to change my attire. From Michelin padded to thin as a wire*. With the Weight Watchers tools and some bright line rules. Awareness, Acceptance, Adapting. No fools.
Stress is a matter of fact part of life. It can’t be knocked out with a spoon fork or knife. Just dealt with: good choices for heart healthy life..
* poetic license. I’m not as thin as a wire, but I wear size small!

I wrote this post with a Weight Watchers prompt. It could seem like it’s all about prose. If you read with a beat, you might find it neat: an amateur poem’s how it goes.

I’m on my way to Denver and then to my daughter’s new home. Where she lives with her hubby, (neither is chubby) in the land where buffalo roam.

I’m leaving New England in winter clothes–landing in Laramie where it still snows.

I’m going to visit a week and a day. I hope to see deer and antelope play!

My plan is to eat three meals a day, drink lots of water, and see brand new hay. I’ll help paint some rooms, shovel some snow and look for spring’s blooms.

I’ll write and take pictures but don’t know if I’ll post. Wyoming’s cell service is scanter than most.

And now it’s time for airplane mode.  I have a 5 hour layover in Denver. Feel ftee to comment. I’ll respond!

Chick chick chiladas.

Chick chick chiladas.

I thought about making enchiladas on Wednesday. I didn’t have tortillas but I wasn’t too chicken to try to make some with chickpeas.

I decided to make a thinned chickpea batter with a can of chickpeas, 4 eggs, a teaspoon of salt and about a half cup of water. The idea was to make pseudo crepes and use them instead of tortillas. I got a ceramic coated frying pan heated up and poured about a quarter of a cup of batter in and swirled it around to thinly coat the bottom of the pan. Then I let them cook until the top was bubbled and dry. Then I flipped the pan upsidedown to let the crepe fall flat onto a dish. By the 6 or 7th try. I wasn’t fowling them up too much.

I think I ended up with three pancakes that resembled crepes. I  filled the nice ones with a mixture of cooked chopped chicken breast, Greek yogurt, hot salsa, cheese and chopped green chilies. The rest I layered like lasagna. With more salsa and shredded cheddar cheese.

When our niece arrived, we had supper. I was thinking I could call it scrambled enchiladas, but she came up with the recipe name of chick chick chiladas. We laughed because it was like old Macdonald’s farm with everywhere a chick chick. At least in my kitchen that’s how it is.20170503_181943.jpg

It was fun to laugh together, but it was also fun to eat together and find out that this new twist on enchiladas tasted good, too!

Control.

via Daily Prompt: Control

I’m writing of my own free will
From a prompt that says control.
The thought that popped first in my head
I found a little droll.

On second thought, I sat up straight
And knew I had to write
A little more what’s been said before
Though some might think it trite.

I struggle with this word control
Addiction is a rage
And if I let it get to me
I’m a puppet on its stage.

So, control, I figure. What?
The L. I’ll add another L.
And then I see and say Con TROLL!
Perhaps it’s worth a yell!

A definite, purposeful, bright line yodel.
All the parts in a grand some total.
Or taking a leap, perhaps it’s toadal.

Crashing through a bored in the fridge,
The troll is waiting to offer a smidge
Of something that trips then feels disgraced.
The control that was had—now misplaced.

So yes, I’m against. Completely con troll.
I need to avoid it wherever I stroll.
When I’m hungry or completely full.

My lines can’t be drawn bright or dull in the sand.
Adhering sometimes and then other hand.
If my purpose for health is knocked for a loop
I end up thinking I’m a nincompoop.

But I’m not ‘cause I’m fighting the battle once more
It’s worth the effort and can’t be a chore.
I’m possible still and moving ahead.
I’m present and facing the future–alive and not dead.

Completely. Con troll.

The psychology of addiction is more than a prediction of what will happen if. The substance and psyche (whether you likey) often face off with a tiff. There are triggers and figures and shots and jiggers (although I’m not driven to drink). I must be aware and accept that it’s there and not let it change what I think.

I recently read the book Bright Line Eating. I also watched a series of videos posted by the author, Susan Pierce Thompson, PhD. She has a lot to say about the neuroscience behind food addiction. And I think she may be onto something with her automaticity plan to conquer it. It works for her and a lot of other people. She is passionate about it. And I could feel myself being excited about it, too. Her work explains a lot of what I’ve found to work for me.

I think she sincerely wants to help people. But she also wants to sell her boot camp experience and the things that go along with that. I bought her book, but I didn’t buy her boot camp. I felt a sense of renewed commitment to my plan of not eating between meals. I think I felt a little invincible for a little while yesterday and then realized a choice I had made was a danger signal to me. The issue was that I made a choice to buy a snack food to eat with my lunch. And then I had a bunch. That turned into more than I could handle.

I feel very grateful to know what to do to fix my slip up. I also feel very foolish that I had to enact those procedures again. (I imagine the reader’s response, “Doesn’t she EVER learn?”) But my big lesson right now is. Write now. Not for entertainment. Not because it needs to be a certain way for it to fit into this blog. For me. I’m Possible. It’s a journey. And I’m on it.

Slip ups don’t mean that I can’t fit into my clothes (although they fit better when the slip’s down). Slip ups don’t mean that I can’t run or walk or do yoga or jazzercise or sudoku and I’m totally out of shape and obese in an instant. It’s a journey with some scenic byways and some road construction. AAA (awareness, acceptance, and adaptation) are helping me with planning and also with emergency repairs as needed. I’m working on some safety issues, but I’m going to enjoy the ride.