Garlic, onions and tomatoes make it easier for you to "eat your spinach."
For the sake of health or some weird diet, I have eaten foods that – while good for me – didn’t taste great. Weird? Yes. Salmon with dried seaweed, protein drinks with chia seeds, protein bars that tasted like oily sawdust, diet chili that had no taste at all or that juice recipe that called for spinach, raw beets and – something else grown in dirt – oh, carrots. It tasted like dirt.
So, New Year, new healthful eating plan. Focusing on lean proteins, vegetables, little or no starch and in the past week I’ve tried a couple of kitchen experiments, which, fortunately, are keepers. Continue reading
From guardian news.com, "Italian navy divers approach the cruise ship." Photograph by Gregorio Borgia/AP
Have you ever “accidentally” jumped ship?
Your doctor told you to lose weight, so Monday you committed to “low carbs and cardio.” But it only lasted until your co-workers talked you into making lasagna for a potluck. And you make the best lasagna and there were chips and cake and …
You let down a friend. Told her you had a headache. Headaches happen, for real – much of the time – other pains too. But we can make ourselves sick when we’re caught between “said we’d do” and “rather do.” I’ve done it. Continue reading
Dung, dung, dung, dunng …
That’s it. I’ve done all I can. Sold the house. Packed up the dog and desk to relocate to the homeland. I’ve knitted a sweater, made Mexican food for family, driven in daylight and darkness to visit loved ones. Last night, I painted my nails pink. Today, I’ve responded or deleted every last email, including dozens from “Write to Done” – giving me loads of tips on writing to done. I can’t put it off any longer. It’s time to write.
Who cares where I write. At least my nails are pink.
Yes, write. I’ve been having too much fun.
WordScarab has been an good outlet. A place to post thoughts du jour, or, umm, du prochaine (of the week.) Now it’s time for my life’s calling – some slick magazine articles and the book.
Ughhh. The book. If only I hadn’t deleted 20,000 of the 26,000 words written more than a year ago. It was that instructor at the DePaul Writer’s Conference. I thought the book was half full.
“Uh, no. I’d say, based on today’s works, you may be a quarter-to-a-third of the way there.”
I should have stayed home from school that day.
Then this. Continue reading
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Growing up in Whiting, Indiana– just eight blocks from the lake – spending almost every summer day on the beach and in the water, I didn’t realize how much Lake Michigan was becoming a part of me. It wasn’t until … Continue reading