- 1 cup frozen blueberries
- 1 cup coconut water
- 1 cup ice
- 1 Tbsp honey
- 1/8 tsp Himalayan pink salt
Place all ingredients in blender. Chop until the mix is of slushy consistency.
Servings: 2, or 1 big gulp! 😀
Place all ingredients in blender. Chop until the mix is of slushy consistency.
Servings: 2, or 1 big gulp! 😀
As I cleanse my body of more chemical junk, my body seems to be more sensitive to the junk. One of the latest casualties has been the electrolyte drinks like Gatorade or Propel. I reviewed many blogs and recipes, but none quite had the flavor I wanted. So after a trial or two, here’s the best flavor imitation of a sour apple slushy I can create.
Although I could discuss why you use Himalayan pink salt and coconut water, I won’t. So many of my fellow bloggers in the ether have already done it quite well.
Put all ingredients in 2-quart pitcher and mix it together. Serve over ice.
Replace 1 cup of water with 1 cup of ice. Place all ingredients in blender. Chop until slushy consistency.
I love treats. All kinds–big ones, short ones, round ones, long ones, bone ones, even the bizarre dry and chewy sweet ones.
However, my mom does something very mean to me. I don’t understand why. Every now and then, without any warning, she goes to the cupboard and gets me two treats. She acts all excited like I’ve done something really good. I take them, and then I’m done.
They taste so bad. They are worse than cat poop. I don’t know what they really are, but there is no way they could be treats.
Lately, she’s putting on them that brown stuff that makes my tongue stick in the top of my mouth. It’s so good, but then I can’t push those fake treats out for anything.
My mom’s whelps need to learn to listen to me. I don’t like the indoor rain room. I hate the indoor rain room. They take me there too much, and then I don’t smell like I should. I smell too human and clean; every cat around makes fun of me.
Then, that one whelp that looks like the other whelp wraps me in a cloth. She takes away all the water so I can’t give those whelps an indoor shower of my own.
I really hate these special bones my mom and ‘On have. They hold those bones and point those bones and sometimes put those bones over their weird ears; they won’t put those bones down to hold me and touch me and point my face at them.
So, I’ve found a new game, but again my family doesn’t like it. I hide their special bones. It is so funny when the sun is just starting to shine. I scoot those special bones under my body before they come out of their rooms for their sleeping couches. Then they get their artificial fur changed–sometimes it would be better if they kept the old fur because the new fur doesn’t smell right–and start to gather their books and bags.
They look through their bags and a funny look crosses their face. They start to smell… well, not happy… and they run all over looking for something. By my tail I believe if they had tails they’d chase them.
After many wags of my tail, they get a different look and start to show their teeth and smile. They come over and they scratch me and move me and find their special bones. They get all happy and move my face around and pay attention to me.
Good humans. Lesson learned.
Author’s Note: Not sure if this one works or not. It makes sense in the deep recesses of my quirky brain. Let me know what you’d do with this piece (and deleting it isn’t an option).
Previously, I mentioned that I had been studying Mandarin from a company named for an archeological artifact. I’ve started to go afield and try for literature, religion, culture, music and even recipes.
My latest recipe is for tea eggs. Even before starting, I had to modify the recipe for all the food issues we face. As I’m working on standardizing the recipe, I’m seeing little life lessons I can’t wait to try to share with my kids.
Each egg has a similar shape. Each egg began in the innards of a hen. Each egg is cooked for the same amount of time. Each egg gets cracked. So in that way, all the eggs are similar.
However, there is a uniqueness to each egg. Each egg is different based on what the hen ate and what her body chemistry was at egg creation. Each egg cracks differently depending on how and where it is cooked. The patterns of lines and pockets of flavors differ depending on cooking and spices used.
We are all human. We all have 23 chromosomes from each of our parents, one male and one female. We all typically began in the womb of a female. We are all born. We all live finite lives.
However, there is so much diversity. We have different patterns of unwise choices (or cracks) depending on how we were raised, what we were feeling, and what we’ve learned. We also have different gifts and abilities (pockets of flavor) that we can use to help others.
When I googled recipes for Tea Eggs, I found tons of recipes. And when I tried to google the contents of Chinese Five Spice blend, I found the blend varies from region to region and sometimes from neighborhood to neighborhood.
With the exception of Eternal Truth, we all have our own truths to perceive, express, and interact with in our own way. My style of parenting may not be something that would work in the environment of your home; in the absence of abuse, it’s okay to accept that I am different, and my difference is not your difference; we don’t have to be the same to get good results (or dinner).
The recipes calls for three sessions of boiling, each with increasing time. The first session is just enough to set the egg white. The second session is a little longer at a very high temperature, presumably to force some of the juices into the cracks as well as kill any germs that would love to dine with us. The finally session is the longest at a very slow temperature, probably to ensure the flavors are sealed and enhanced.
In life, all things take time, from the development of a personality to recovery from abuse or addiction. We cannot shortchange the process and expect to have the kind of results that are best for us. Each experience we have that is negative can be filtered in a way that allows us to see that when we suffer we learn to persevere, to survive.
As we persevere, we learn that we have to be the kind of person we would others around us to be even when no one is looking, and so we develop character. As our character grows, we start to feel a “lightening,” like things aren’t so heavy and like we can do what we need to do with joy and vigor; this “lightening” is hope. And hope will carry us through every trial of life.
When the eggs are done cooking, you let them sit in the juices until you’re ready to use them. They can sit and look pretty, but you can’t eat them. You have to peel the shells so you can taste what was infused into the egg through the cooking process.
As you succeed and achieve perseverance and survival, you look pretty. But if you don’t peel off an exterior that keeps people at a distance, you can never let people in to see the unique patterns of lace that reveal your strength and abilities, and people can never taste the sweetness of your survival and the spiciness of your lessons learned the hard way.
And for an egg to go through all that and not be appreciated is a terrible waste of an egg.
Gang, I warn you here and now, this isn’t going to be my usual feel good post. It’s going to be something you will need cheese and crackers to eat as you read.
Halloween has never been my time of year.
Autumn is a season that looks like the whole world is dying with no hope of resurrection. In my head, I know spring will come (good Lord willing and the creeks don’t rise). But my heart, my achy muscles, and my stiff joints swear unto the entire universe that it is a time of death.
I wrestle because I remember those in the neo-pagan tradition no longer in my life. I remember the life and times we shared, and I feel the darkness and heaviness because I had to walk away. After all, they couldn’t offer me a god who sacrificed himself for his people. But I still miss the light in their eyes and the quirky humor (and a graceful waltz or two).
I don’t enjoy the idea of being something I’m not and wearing costumes (outside of drama). After years of struggling to become what I am and what I’ve been called to be, it just seems less than honest.
With the food issues, it is even less happy. Usually, my kids don’t get to go out for Halloween. My former denominational pew (where they still live) always had a special service. This year, though, the area towns decided to have trick or treating on a different night than Halloween. Because my ex-husband has struggled with health issues, he asked (quite politely and in an undemanding style) to take them. And I’m just a gal who can’t say no…
Enter Exhibit A. See the featured image. They returned all chatty with three bags of candy. They agreed to have a common pot as long as Child A could have some. I began my mommy sleuth tactics… two hours ago.
As you can see, there’s not much that she can have. The bowl for waiting for ingredients list is a little fuller. And the bowl for what she can’t eat due to allergies is larger and the fullest.
Yeah, I’m locked and loaded. I have just emailed every product manufacturer that had an email address. And, since I don’t have the bucks of a Trump, I never expect to hear from them again.
But maybe, if we all would work together, we as consumers could do a boycott and a boycott. We buy only from those companies that provide wholesome, organic, allergy-safe products. We do not buy if a company takes a hard line. Working together, we should have the bucks of a Trump.
Maybe I’m just a dreamer.
Meanwhile, until this nightmare plays out for another year, I advise you to refrain from approaching the momma bear.
Should you choose to approach, bring coffee.
And whatever you do, don’t bring an item from the bowl labeled Child A CANNOT eat 😦 !!!
This is a nice breakfast cake. The recipe originally appeared in a cookbook for food allergy sufferers, but since we didn’t like (or have) all the recommended ingredients, we put this version together instead. I especially like that you sneak a half serving of fruit into an unsuspecting teen or child. In addition, if the proper type of molasses is used, you can increase the intake of calcium in a lactose intolerant individual.
Recently, we had lactose intolerance thrown into the mix as a food issue in our home. Yeah, I was real thrilled…not! But I love the child, so I started looking into non-dairy sources of calcium, and I started reviewing our favorite recipes to see what we could modify.
This recipe is one of our favorites, and its modification ranks right up there too. The trick is to leave the bones in the salmon.
Usually serves six with extra servings for seconds or brown bag lunch later in the week.