I was diagnosed with Celiac a few weeks ago.
This means I can never have gluten again.
Gluten is in many of my favorite things: macaroni and cheese, pasta alfredo, beer, raisin bran, crunchy oat flake cereal, Twix, pizza, etc.
Actually... I can have those things, I'll just have diarrhea all my life, never absorb nutrients, have unhealthy bones and blood, and eventually die of stomach cancer. But I won't die IMMEDIATELY. Indeed, if I take my grandfather's route, I won't die of stomach cancer until well after my 85th birthday!
But I'm going to try to be gluten-free anyway. From what I understand, it will cure my neuropathy (I get really crazy itchy after showers or salt scrubs or shaving), my anemia, and some of my attention span problems. Plus my stomach will be really happy with me.
I've started grocery shopping as a gluten-free person, and it's a giant pain in the ass. But great strides have been made in food production and I can get bread and pasta and cereal at my local grocery stores, which is way better than those before me had it. Really, I can survive just fine at home - aside from baking.
Yes, there's the real problem.
I bake when I'm stressed out, and also when I'm feeling good. I'm often one or the other. I've gotten a few gluten-free baking cook books - the best one is from Babycakes, a bakery in NYC. But they call for bizarre ingredients, some of which I haven't been able to find. (Potato starch? Seriously? Even the people at Whole Foods don't know what that is.) Most of the breads I've tried so far have been for shit - it's like eating a loaf of sand mixed with cardboard that crumbles if you look at it wrong - so I'm going to start baking my own, and testing recipes. I've found two good cupcake recipes so far, and I'm going to try a new one (with pumpkin!) in the next few days.
Tonight I tried out chicken and dumplings, because I was craving it hardcore. The dumplings were fine, if a bit dense, but the broth was all wrong. I suspect the issue was how long I cooked the chicken, which is to say, not long enough. Not enough simmering. I know you're all shocked that I tried to hurry something along. Tomorrow I'm going to try chicken noodle soup.
Anyway - the real issue is eating out, or at parties, or at weddings. Gluten is in pretty much everything, and people have no idea. Not that I blame them at all - I had no idea. But recently I was at Sonic, and I was horrified to find that the only thing left on the menu for me to eat is tater tots. And that's only because I'm not so sensitive that I can't eat things that were fried in oil that also fried battered things. (some people would be sick for days, just from that) So it's all large tater tots and cherry Limeaids for me. Not that that's a particularly bleak future.
I'll update more as I learn more. I'm still phasing gluten out of my diet and out of my pantry.
Velveeta Mac and Cheese, I've always loved you. And I'm going to miss you terribly.
Same goes for you, dark German beer.
P.S. - there are other things going on in my life, too. I'll think them over and update more soon.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Thinking about bed
Going to bed is one of my favorite parts of the day. Sometimes it's the best thing that happens all day.
My bed is very important to me, and very carefully designed around my preferences - and no one else's, because I'm very selfish. And also because no one else tends to be sleeping in the bed. More on that later. Here's a detailed description:
The bed itself was made by my greatgreatuncle, or some variation on that theme, in upstate New York. It's clearly handmade, and most of it was turned on a lathe. I had to drill new holes into it so that a modern mattress would fit it, because it was made before mattress standardization. On the bed frame sits a boxspring and a mattress, both full size. While I can appreciate a giant bed, I prefer full size beds - better for snuggling. More on that later. On top of the mattress is a down mattress pad. On top of that are usually jersey sheets, although I have a set of flannel for the winter time. I HATE flat sheets, as I find they lead to getting tangled up and frustrated, so I don't use them. Next comes my down duvet, which I'm thinking of replacing with a thicker one. (Not that I need a thick one, living in warm climates...it's just a puffy-ness issue) And finally - the pillows. I have a least three - two puffy and one flat. The flat one always has the blue pillowcase with the stars on it. There's also a body pillow against the wall, although I'm thinking of retiring it. Sometimes there's one of the quilts I've made on there, too.
And now, the pitiful parts.
When I was a freshman in college, a friend gave me a giant stuffed sheep (Sheepy), and I'm ashamed to say he's still in the bed. When I was a senior, I started having recurring nightmares about aligators (which I still have, sometimes), so my boyfriend at the time gave me a giant stuffed aligator, and now I can't sleep without it. Finally, there's usually a small black terrier sleeping on my toes, which is actually really handy, because they get cold.
The problem is this: even with all of this nonsense in my bed, I still like it best when there's another person. Preferably a warm boy. I don't know how the boys ever manage to fit in there, but I guess they find room somehow.
The real problem with being between relatioships is that suddenly there's no one else in my bed. (well that, and the lack of sex) This is why I sometimes consider hiring someone to sleep in my bed. I've had this conversation with many people, but I've never figured out how much I'd have to pay. Basically, I want a man to sleep in the bed, take care of scary noises, kill the occasional spider, and snuggle. That's about it. I'm not even talking about sex. (this is where most men tune out) There's a minor issue with the snuggling part, though: I've been told I'm a very aggressive snuggler. I'll snuggle somebody right to the edge of the bed if they don't stop me. I've actually snuggled men off the bed before. It's a problem.
And now you know more than you ever needed to know about my bed. It's late, so I guess I'll go get in it.
My bed is very important to me, and very carefully designed around my preferences - and no one else's, because I'm very selfish. And also because no one else tends to be sleeping in the bed. More on that later. Here's a detailed description:
The bed itself was made by my greatgreatuncle, or some variation on that theme, in upstate New York. It's clearly handmade, and most of it was turned on a lathe. I had to drill new holes into it so that a modern mattress would fit it, because it was made before mattress standardization. On the bed frame sits a boxspring and a mattress, both full size. While I can appreciate a giant bed, I prefer full size beds - better for snuggling. More on that later. On top of the mattress is a down mattress pad. On top of that are usually jersey sheets, although I have a set of flannel for the winter time. I HATE flat sheets, as I find they lead to getting tangled up and frustrated, so I don't use them. Next comes my down duvet, which I'm thinking of replacing with a thicker one. (Not that I need a thick one, living in warm climates...it's just a puffy-ness issue) And finally - the pillows. I have a least three - two puffy and one flat. The flat one always has the blue pillowcase with the stars on it. There's also a body pillow against the wall, although I'm thinking of retiring it. Sometimes there's one of the quilts I've made on there, too.
And now, the pitiful parts.
When I was a freshman in college, a friend gave me a giant stuffed sheep (Sheepy), and I'm ashamed to say he's still in the bed. When I was a senior, I started having recurring nightmares about aligators (which I still have, sometimes), so my boyfriend at the time gave me a giant stuffed aligator, and now I can't sleep without it. Finally, there's usually a small black terrier sleeping on my toes, which is actually really handy, because they get cold.
The problem is this: even with all of this nonsense in my bed, I still like it best when there's another person. Preferably a warm boy. I don't know how the boys ever manage to fit in there, but I guess they find room somehow.
The real problem with being between relatioships is that suddenly there's no one else in my bed. (well that, and the lack of sex) This is why I sometimes consider hiring someone to sleep in my bed. I've had this conversation with many people, but I've never figured out how much I'd have to pay. Basically, I want a man to sleep in the bed, take care of scary noises, kill the occasional spider, and snuggle. That's about it. I'm not even talking about sex. (this is where most men tune out) There's a minor issue with the snuggling part, though: I've been told I'm a very aggressive snuggler. I'll snuggle somebody right to the edge of the bed if they don't stop me. I've actually snuggled men off the bed before. It's a problem.
And now you know more than you ever needed to know about my bed. It's late, so I guess I'll go get in it.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
The move, continued
So then I had a week before classes started.
I was exhausted and grumpy and really grateful to be left alone.
I spent most of the week eating Lucky Charms, reading Harry Potter, and sleeping. (excellent alone time activities)
I figured out how to ride MARTA and where the closest stations were. Then, after much research, I found the closest bus to my house (4 blocks away) and how often it runs (once an hour, which sucks).
I found the campus, the sociology department, and the bookstore. I signed all the official documents to become an employee of the school.
And I hung out with Katie and Nick a lot.
Coming up soon: further adventures in ATL and the first two weeks of class.
(right now I have to go read for class tomorrow)
I was exhausted and grumpy and really grateful to be left alone.
I spent most of the week eating Lucky Charms, reading Harry Potter, and sleeping. (excellent alone time activities)
I figured out how to ride MARTA and where the closest stations were. Then, after much research, I found the closest bus to my house (4 blocks away) and how often it runs (once an hour, which sucks).
I found the campus, the sociology department, and the bookstore. I signed all the official documents to become an employee of the school.
And I hung out with Katie and Nick a lot.
Coming up soon: further adventures in ATL and the first two weeks of class.
(right now I have to go read for class tomorrow)
Thursday, August 20, 2009
The ATL
I've been in Atlanta for a week and a half and haven't posted yet. I apologize to anyone who may have been waiting for an update. I didn't post because I STILL don't have internet.
Getting internet in my apartment has been the battle I never expected. Everyone wanted to set an install date two weeks away, or else had phantom bounced checks on my account (if my bank can't find it and I can't find it... it doesn't exist) or else their wireless couldn't function in my tiny half-underground apartment. My walls are two feet thick. I like that. Wireless networks do not. Tomorrow I should finally achieve internet, with the help of the slowest and most expensive provider around.
So anyway. Atlanta.
Two weeks ago the moving started. My dad brought a moving truck home and we loaded everything I had at my parents' house into it. This included a couch that looked like it was going to be physically impossible to move. That part made me nervous. The next day we drove to Knoxville to get even more stuff. First we went to the POD, where Jessica and her dad were already unloading. Jessica and I put our shit in the POD last July and haven't seen it since - opening it was kind of like Christmas. There were things in there that I had forgotten I owned.
And then it was time for the scary part.
In Knoxville, I'd been living in a loft in the very heart of downtown. The loft was up two sets of stairs, and my furniture was up another set of spiral stairs within the loft. Getting it in was bad enough - it took myself, three strong men, and a lot of swearing. Getting it back down was made much easier with the aid of two of my favorite boys from the Grotto: Pet Barback and Tony. Thank god for them. There were a few moments when I thought either my furniture or one of the boys was going to die, but it worked. After living here for a few days I remembered the stuff I left in Knoxville: a microwave, my nightlights (don't laugh), and a wireless router. D'oh.
My dad and I stayed in a hotel outside of Atlanta that night, and on Saturday it was time to move in. Moving in is always better than moving out.
My new apartment is a hole. Seriously - it's half underground and it's about 400 square feet. But I love it so much. It's in the greatest neighborhood and it's part of this really amazing building from the 1920's. It's small, but it's as much space as I need, and I knew my furniture would mostly fit. Plus, it's about all I could afford in this town. And I can barely afford it.
Cousin Zach, the DePalmas, my dad, and I unloaded the truck pretty quickly. (Cousin Jason showed up right when everything was unloaded...suspicious...) (and yet so clever) The couch was a major disastor all over again. Katie and I watched and tried to make thoughtful and supportive faces while her engineer husband helped make a plan for forcing it around corners. Then we all went to lunch at Mary Mac's, which was brilliant.
And that's about as much update as I feel like doing. We've gotten to moving in, and I'll update more later.
Getting internet in my apartment has been the battle I never expected. Everyone wanted to set an install date two weeks away, or else had phantom bounced checks on my account (if my bank can't find it and I can't find it... it doesn't exist) or else their wireless couldn't function in my tiny half-underground apartment. My walls are two feet thick. I like that. Wireless networks do not. Tomorrow I should finally achieve internet, with the help of the slowest and most expensive provider around.
So anyway. Atlanta.
Two weeks ago the moving started. My dad brought a moving truck home and we loaded everything I had at my parents' house into it. This included a couch that looked like it was going to be physically impossible to move. That part made me nervous. The next day we drove to Knoxville to get even more stuff. First we went to the POD, where Jessica and her dad were already unloading. Jessica and I put our shit in the POD last July and haven't seen it since - opening it was kind of like Christmas. There were things in there that I had forgotten I owned.
And then it was time for the scary part.
In Knoxville, I'd been living in a loft in the very heart of downtown. The loft was up two sets of stairs, and my furniture was up another set of spiral stairs within the loft. Getting it in was bad enough - it took myself, three strong men, and a lot of swearing. Getting it back down was made much easier with the aid of two of my favorite boys from the Grotto: Pet Barback and Tony. Thank god for them. There were a few moments when I thought either my furniture or one of the boys was going to die, but it worked. After living here for a few days I remembered the stuff I left in Knoxville: a microwave, my nightlights (don't laugh), and a wireless router. D'oh.
My dad and I stayed in a hotel outside of Atlanta that night, and on Saturday it was time to move in. Moving in is always better than moving out.
My new apartment is a hole. Seriously - it's half underground and it's about 400 square feet. But I love it so much. It's in the greatest neighborhood and it's part of this really amazing building from the 1920's. It's small, but it's as much space as I need, and I knew my furniture would mostly fit. Plus, it's about all I could afford in this town. And I can barely afford it.
Cousin Zach, the DePalmas, my dad, and I unloaded the truck pretty quickly. (Cousin Jason showed up right when everything was unloaded...suspicious...) (and yet so clever) The couch was a major disastor all over again. Katie and I watched and tried to make thoughtful and supportive faces while her engineer husband helped make a plan for forcing it around corners. Then we all went to lunch at Mary Mac's, which was brilliant.
And that's about as much update as I feel like doing. We've gotten to moving in, and I'll update more later.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Look out, armadillos
I spent the last few days in a place called Dadeville that has two very important things in common with hell: there is no internet connection and there is no real coffee.
On the other hand, there are fried things. I ate a whole meal composed of fried okra, fried shrimp, fried crawfish, fried alligator, and sweet tea. In retrospect, I should have had the tea fried. Oh, and there are armadillos, which are pretty cute. But that's about all I can say for Dadeville.
I went with my parents because my grandfather was holding a golf tournament for his 85th birthday. The tournament only consisted of men from my extended family, but it was pretty hotly contested, from what I hear. The weekend was both good and bad. I hardly ever see members of my mother's family, so it was nice to see my cousins. I'm about to live near three of them for the first time, so it was good to reconnect with them.
On the other hand, there was my grandfather.
My mother's father has never particularly liked my siblings and I. Not only did none of us play football, we all inexplicably failed to go to Auburn. And then we didn't become conservative Republicans. And we aren't good Christians. So! Basically he has nothing to say to us. I mean, it's not like he's mean, he's just completely baffled by the lot of us and has never bothered to take an interest in anything we might be doing.
Lately he's taken on two hobbies that I found extra disturbing. The first one is making loud disparaging remarks about anyone who happens to be nearby (neighbors, servers, cash register attendants, family members, etc) and the other is killing small animals. He shoots any squirrels that try to eat from his birdfeeder and any armadillos that come into his yard. Actually, he doesn't get the armadillos much, because they come out and night and he doesn't like to stay up anymore. But his most recent wife (from whom he is separated) likes to shoot them from her deck, and he tried to get my dad to run over one that we saw on the road.
But none of this compared to the bizarre speech he made on the occassion of his birthday dinner. It was sort of a telling of his life story, but with interesting additions and omissions. Most of the speech focused on how much he loves football, his oldest son, and his deceased first wife. He spent a lot of time on how talented his oldest son is, made some half-assed remarks about his other son being technically proficient, and left out my mother entirely. Seriously. Never mentioned her. He also failed to mention his second wife but did include an imaginary relationship with a Broadway star. It was seriously weird. It made me wonder if some day I'll tell a heavily revised version of my own life story that includes embarassing details about other people.
So that was upsetting.
But I suppose there were some good parts of the weekend. I've always been afraid of babies, but my cousin Abby has two that seem pretty cool. I even took one of them in the pool, and not only did he not break, but he seemed downright tough. He's at a phase in his life where he enjoys hitting, throwing, and splashing - or is that a phase? Maybe he's just a boy and that's a life-long thing.
In other news:
Before I left, I spend a delightful evening with someone else's husband. Thanks for the loan, Val. (Why oh why isn't there another Kelly brother for me?)
Right now my parents are keeping the neighbors' dogs, which means we have a whole house full of terriers. I love it. Lots of chaos and barking and snuggling.
I made the mistake of looking at expensive handbags, and now I'm getting a little lustfull for a Coach Addison briefcase.
I'm approaching finishing my brother's wedding present.
Almost time to move!
On the other hand, there are fried things. I ate a whole meal composed of fried okra, fried shrimp, fried crawfish, fried alligator, and sweet tea. In retrospect, I should have had the tea fried. Oh, and there are armadillos, which are pretty cute. But that's about all I can say for Dadeville.
I went with my parents because my grandfather was holding a golf tournament for his 85th birthday. The tournament only consisted of men from my extended family, but it was pretty hotly contested, from what I hear. The weekend was both good and bad. I hardly ever see members of my mother's family, so it was nice to see my cousins. I'm about to live near three of them for the first time, so it was good to reconnect with them.
On the other hand, there was my grandfather.
My mother's father has never particularly liked my siblings and I. Not only did none of us play football, we all inexplicably failed to go to Auburn. And then we didn't become conservative Republicans. And we aren't good Christians. So! Basically he has nothing to say to us. I mean, it's not like he's mean, he's just completely baffled by the lot of us and has never bothered to take an interest in anything we might be doing.
Lately he's taken on two hobbies that I found extra disturbing. The first one is making loud disparaging remarks about anyone who happens to be nearby (neighbors, servers, cash register attendants, family members, etc) and the other is killing small animals. He shoots any squirrels that try to eat from his birdfeeder and any armadillos that come into his yard. Actually, he doesn't get the armadillos much, because they come out and night and he doesn't like to stay up anymore. But his most recent wife (from whom he is separated) likes to shoot them from her deck, and he tried to get my dad to run over one that we saw on the road.
But none of this compared to the bizarre speech he made on the occassion of his birthday dinner. It was sort of a telling of his life story, but with interesting additions and omissions. Most of the speech focused on how much he loves football, his oldest son, and his deceased first wife. He spent a lot of time on how talented his oldest son is, made some half-assed remarks about his other son being technically proficient, and left out my mother entirely. Seriously. Never mentioned her. He also failed to mention his second wife but did include an imaginary relationship with a Broadway star. It was seriously weird. It made me wonder if some day I'll tell a heavily revised version of my own life story that includes embarassing details about other people.
So that was upsetting.
But I suppose there were some good parts of the weekend. I've always been afraid of babies, but my cousin Abby has two that seem pretty cool. I even took one of them in the pool, and not only did he not break, but he seemed downright tough. He's at a phase in his life where he enjoys hitting, throwing, and splashing - or is that a phase? Maybe he's just a boy and that's a life-long thing.
In other news:
Before I left, I spend a delightful evening with someone else's husband. Thanks for the loan, Val. (Why oh why isn't there another Kelly brother for me?)
Right now my parents are keeping the neighbors' dogs, which means we have a whole house full of terriers. I love it. Lots of chaos and barking and snuggling.
I made the mistake of looking at expensive handbags, and now I'm getting a little lustfull for a Coach Addison briefcase.
I'm approaching finishing my brother's wedding present.
Almost time to move!
Friday, July 10, 2009
In which Dorothy and Toto abscond to an island
I had a pretty big week.
I went on my first solo road trip.
I went on my first solo vacation.
I found and signed a lease on an apartment.
I mastered docking the boat all by myself.
Toto had a big week, too. He learned about riding on boats, jumping through marsh, rolling in the sand, how not to eat crabs that are still alive and pinching you, and that waves are dangerous. Here's a video of his new hobby:
So here's the long version of what I did all week: I drove to Atlanta Friday morning, looked at the apartments Friday afternoon, and signed a lease. I love my new apartment. It's in a brick building from the 1920's, and it's a tiny tiny hole. Seriously. I stayed with Katie and Nick, who were very sweet about showing me around. We went to little 5 Points and on a mini driving tour of downtown Atlanta. Plus our dogs got along really well. I'm looking forward to living right next to them.
On Saturday I drove to Charleston (specifically, to my uncle's island house which can only be reached by boat), and spent the 4th of July on an island, just like in the Band of Horses song. I climbed up on the roof of the gazebo with Phineas and I could see three different fireworks displays - it was amazing. And also kind of sensory-overload, because I could never decide where to look.
I spent several days by myself on the island, which I think is the farthest away I've ever been from other humans for an extended period of time. I really liked it. I did some fishing and some crabbing and some pointless cruising around in the boat. And then I got sick and spent some time sleeping and puking and sleeping and puking. But still! A nice place for it.
Then I drove home, stopping in Knoxville over night. I had a nice dinner with Mike, drinks with Kaitlin and company, and even got to stop by the Grotto. I really missed getting petted on by my pet barback. And any night spent laughing with Jamie and Palm is a good one.
I'm back home now, and I think I've finally washed all the sand off me. Time to get back to normal life.
I went on my first solo road trip.
I went on my first solo vacation.
I found and signed a lease on an apartment.
I mastered docking the boat all by myself.
Toto had a big week, too. He learned about riding on boats, jumping through marsh, rolling in the sand, how not to eat crabs that are still alive and pinching you, and that waves are dangerous. Here's a video of his new hobby:
So here's the long version of what I did all week: I drove to Atlanta Friday morning, looked at the apartments Friday afternoon, and signed a lease. I love my new apartment. It's in a brick building from the 1920's, and it's a tiny tiny hole. Seriously. I stayed with Katie and Nick, who were very sweet about showing me around. We went to little 5 Points and on a mini driving tour of downtown Atlanta. Plus our dogs got along really well. I'm looking forward to living right next to them.
On Saturday I drove to Charleston (specifically, to my uncle's island house which can only be reached by boat), and spent the 4th of July on an island, just like in the Band of Horses song. I climbed up on the roof of the gazebo with Phineas and I could see three different fireworks displays - it was amazing. And also kind of sensory-overload, because I could never decide where to look.
I spent several days by myself on the island, which I think is the farthest away I've ever been from other humans for an extended period of time. I really liked it. I did some fishing and some crabbing and some pointless cruising around in the boat. And then I got sick and spent some time sleeping and puking and sleeping and puking. But still! A nice place for it.
Then I drove home, stopping in Knoxville over night. I had a nice dinner with Mike, drinks with Kaitlin and company, and even got to stop by the Grotto. I really missed getting petted on by my pet barback. And any night spent laughing with Jamie and Palm is a good one.
I'm back home now, and I think I've finally washed all the sand off me. Time to get back to normal life.
Monday, June 29, 2009
A couple of pictures
Ok - I stole a couple of pictures from Ryan and from Anna.
Monica and the Irish boys - Adam and Karl, respectively.
Erika in her stunning dress and awesome hair.
Erika and Timmy at the altar, promising to love each other and stuff.
Jessica, me, and Kaitlin, watching proudly.
And my kickass dress and curly hair.
Monica and the Irish boys - Adam and Karl, respectively.
Erika in her stunning dress and awesome hair.
Erika and Timmy at the altar, promising to love each other and stuff.
Jessica, me, and Kaitlin, watching proudly.
And my kickass dress and curly hair.
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