So much for a following.

If I even have any faithful readers at this point, I'm probably risking their association to me by saying the following:  I love how my cats smell.

Ok, that sounds gross out loud;  I realize that.  I probably love my cats too much.  Their fur, especially Tiramisu's, picks up delightful scents from the air.  [My cats are kind of like scratch 'n sniff stickers]  Sometimes their fur smells like chocolate chip pancakes, sometimes they'll smell like banana bread, and other times they just smell like warm sunshine.  I'll always be a cat lady at heart.  [Will you still be my friends?]

And maybe one day.. one day.. I'll have one of these to love, too.  =)

Le fin.

Barely even skipped a beat.

It's so warm down here in Charlotte..  For most of the week it's been in the 70's, and some days have even hit the 80's.  I can't believe how different it is from Vermont.  I constantly check the weather report for my old town in Vermont and it never ceases to amaze me how cold it gets.  Cold weather is fine, but the thing about Vermont is it never seemed to go away.  I would literally get depressed by late April because it was still chilly each and every day.

But things are different down here.  Today it almost feels like summertime.  It's 77 degrees and super muggy.  It's been really nice walking dogs in capris and t-shirts.  I will definitely get used to this.  It's so nice not to feel the need to hide inside and keep warm.  All of our windows are open, and the warm breeze is making its way in.  The cat room is even lit up with warm sunshine.  [The cats are just as happy as I am.]

*PS - Tomorrow, 85 and rainy.

I don't normally spend that much time talking about weather.. it's just a nice change.  I'm glad Scott and I moved down here.  Our lives picked up pretty quickly, so we've barely even skipped a beat.  Scott's working full time, and I'm hoping to get as many pet-sitting clients as possible.  We already have three couples relatively our age that we're happily getting to know.  And four weeks into being here, we found the church we're committing to.  We've already had three meals with church folk, and this Sunday we'll be at the pastor's house discussing membership.  He said he doesn't normally discuss membership "so early in the game", but he sees that we're serious about getting involved. 

Although we're struggling majorly with some things, namely finances, we're really optimistic about this big move we've just had.  Some things are super different than up in Vermont.  Little things like stores all around us, two malls within a half hour, Christian radio stations, black neighbors, and central air.  These were things we longed for while in Vermont, and now they're ours.  And we praise God that sometimes He gives us what we ask for. 

We will have a lot to figure out: I need to assess if the Lord is calling me to finish my Masters of Divinity.  Scott's only working a temporary job right now, so he needs to figure out what God is planning for his occupational future.  There's a lot more that needs sorting out, but those are the main issues we're working on.

 *Totally unrelated.. Tomorrow evening a professional dog trainer is coming to assess Fudge.  
    Is there such thing as being declared "too naughty to teach"?  [S.O.S.]

You don't always needs to paint the town.

It's Friday night.  So what did Scott and I do instead of painting the town?  Well, we watched another episode of Roswell and we ate.  I made Scott whole wheat chocolate chip banana bread.. And well, since it'll probably kill me if I ate that, I made egg drop soup for myself.  

I don't always have the most exciting things to write about, but sometimes it's the banal moments of life that should be remembered.  Eventually I'll lose Scott in this life, only be reunited with him sweetly in heaven..  But I'll remember things like the way he lights up when I bake for him.  And the way he always offers a hand with removing hot things from the oven.  He loves me in a deep, quiet way, and he needs to know that I know.  So this entry is dedicated to the man I devote myself to, and all the quiet things that I love about us.

I was made for another era.

I've been meaning to write on this for a while.  I'm not quite sure if it'll come out eloquently or not, but my point must be made.  *Sometimes I feel like I was meant for another era.*  I'm not saying this in any sort of facetious way, as if God doesn't know exactly what He's doing by placing us in a particular place and time.  I'm just saying that I often feel like a square peg in a round hole in this generation of mine.  Oh sure, I love the lines and shapes of modern furniture and architecture, but my soul longs for tradition and days of old.

I think I would give almost anything to live a day in ancient history..  But not necessarily the obvious times in history, like the fall of Rome, or the day the light bulb was invented.  It's more the quiet times of history that I long for.  The thought of spending a day in the wooden pews of a 17th century Puritan church is intriguing.  Wearing all sorts of somber clothing, bearing not even an ankle is admirable to me.  There was an uprightness about that time.  I also think there was something unbearably enchanting about the Victorian era, where wealthy women wore their long hair in tresses and dresses of the most unreasonable shapes.  There were expectations back then; expectations of dance and etiquette.  Does anyone actually know how to quadrille anymore?

Very recently, my taste has even started to change.  I used to think IKEA furniture was the bomb, but now I find myself at antique stores, reveling in the artistry of a wooden armoir.  I've gotten into gold, too.. which was a total shock to me.  Not so much golden jewelry, but golden furniture and decor.  Large, ornate mirrors and frames catch my recent attention.  I have fallen in love with stand-alone porcelain tubs and tables with lions heads for feet.  If I could decorate my entire home with Victorian decor, I would.  If I could promenade around my house in a dress too big for the door frames, I would.  No Covergirl, no curling irons, no Facebook.  Just the sounds of the birds outside, landscaped courtyards stretching half a mile, and afternoon tea.  Ok, maybe I'm romanticizing it all, but why not?  It's beautiful to me.

As far as I know, there once was a generational reverence for things, like women.  There was a way to go about winning the heart of one's lady love; in courting and wooing.  No pulling up outside, waiting for her to hop in.  Men were taught that women should be treated in a particular way, opening doors, and standing when one entered the room.  These days, I often end up standing at places because men have taken all the seats.  Am I the only one who's disappointed by things like this?  I don't know.  But this is only half the story for me.

I'm also catching myself falling into more traditional roles, like staying quiet and letting my husband speak on behalf of me.  Scott and I are reading an amazing book called "Reforming Marriage", and I'll tell you it's not for the faint of heart.  God designed men and women to be very different from each other, and so our roles are very different.  Women are to bear children, God-willing, and men are to be spiritual leaders and financial providers for the household.  I see the beauty in it.  I see how it all works, and how it honors God.  I don't know, I just know something's brewing inside me.  I want to learn more about how to live in this generation I've been placed in, but still stay true to God's original intentions for me.  I'm ready to commit myself to God, whether I like it or not.

I don't want to sound like the things that once were are better than those that are now, but I think we could all stand to be a little more traditional. 

What do you think?

Gluten-Free is me.

I'm not sure how common knowledge it is at this point, but I'm now living a gluten-free lifestyle.  And you know what?  It's tough.  It's expensive, and it's hard work.  But sometimes we just gotta do what we gotta do.  

I won't get into too many details about how and why I'm now eating this way, but I'm VERY happy to delve at any point if someone asks.  In short, I have a gluten intolerance which simply means I can eat gluten, but then my body has no idea what to do with it.  It's kind of like putting maple syrup in a car for an oil change.  My internal numbers get all wacky and it makes it almost impossible for me to be a healthy weight.  

..But I guess I shouldn't assume you know what eating a gluten-free diet entails.. I didn't, until it became my new reality.  To quote the ever-reliable Wikipedia: "Gluten (from Latin gluten 'glue') is a protein composite that appears in foods processed from wheat and related species, including barley and rye.  It gives elasticity to dough, helping it to rise and to keep its shape, and often giving the final product a chewy texture."  In addition to wheat flour, barley, and rye, oats, spelt, and triticale are also bad for me.  When I eat gluten, I get super-fatigued, my arms get a strange discoloration to them, and sometimes I get sick to my stomach.  Not to mention the unbelievable cholesterol and triglyceride count.  It's crazy how someone can eat something for so many years, and not realize it's poisoning them.  It took plenty of expensive doctor visits, and a ton of trial and error before I realized this sad reality.  

I'd have to say the worst thing about eating gluten-free foods is the cost.  I mean sure, if you want your bread and cookies to taste like hockey pucks, shopping can be pretty inexpensive.. But if you want your food to taste just like it did before this new reality, you'll need to shell out the big bucks.  Example: When Scott and I were on Cape Cod this past summer, a personal-sized gluten-free Margherita pizza cost me $17.. Seventeen dollars!!  A large pepperoni pie at Domino's costs half that.  Most restaurants, if they even offer gluten-free pasta or pizza, will charge you extra.  Now, I understand that keeping pots and utensils and cooking water separate can be tough.. but sometimes I feel like places are robbing us blind.  As if it doesn't stink enough, it's easy to go broke in the process. 

King Arthur has the best line of gluten-free baking products that I've come across, so far.  It's such a painful irony that I moved from the very location of their distribution center to 1,000 miles away.  An order was just placed to their online store for $135, courtesy of Scott and Christina Amado.  And no, I won't be receiving some high-end baking apparatus, simply an assortment of GF flour, GF pancake mix, and the like.  It's tough to know that regular mixes would cost half that at the local grocery store.  

I hope I don't sound embittered about all of this.  I'm certainly grateful that I don't have full-blown Celiac's.. which is a disease that renders it impossible for people to ingest gluten of any sort, lest they end up with horrible G.I. issues.  And I know that this is a walk in the park compared to a lot of diagnoses that people receive every day.  I also know that staying away from gluten can help with infertility issues and a HOST of other health problems..  

I guess a silver lining to my day is finding out that a local pizza place now offers my favorite GF pizza crust.   And THAT is exactly where you can find me later this evening.  

Gluten-Free Blog

Chocolate Bar

I promised an explanation about yesterday's chocolate mishap.  So here it is.

I'm sure you've heard it a hundred times that chocolate is bad for dogs.  Truth is, milk chocolate and white chocolate are no big deal.. but anything containing 70% cocoa or higher can be lethal.  Straight baking chocolate WILL truly kill a dog.  It's no joke.  Perhaps if Fudge our Newfoundland had gotten to it, the situation would have been less concerning.. but our 8 lb. dog discovered it first.

In short, yesterday I found Crumb behind the couch polishing off a chocolate bar still in its wrapper.  At first I was in total shock because the chocolate had been up on our coffee table.. It's still a mystery as to how Crumb got the chocolate,  but that really isn't important.  The focus is that he ate twice the amount of dark chocolate that a dog his size should ingest.  So I knew it was bad as soon as I snapped out of my disbelief.

I emphatically ripped the chocolate bar away and ran to the computer.  Funny how my first thought was "Google", and not.. "vet".  But regardless, I found plenty of hits on how to get your dog to vomit and expel any toxins that are sitting in his stomach.  Hydrogen Peroxide?!  Not wanting to burn a hole in Crumb's esophagus, I frantically phoned the vet for a second opinion.  It seems I wasn't being a psychotic individual, the vet was just as concerned as I was.  Apparently dark chocolate contains "theobromine" which for dogs acts as a slow, caffeinated toxin in their veins.  In toxic doses, a dog's heartbeat can become elevated to the point of heart attack and death.  I was NOT going to lose Crumb to a chocolate bar.  Two months ago we had a bad pancreatis scare that left him in the animal hospital for days.  $400 later we had a dog who now has chronic sensitivity to food and needs to be on a bland food diet.  So needless to say, this chocolate was neither bland nor healthy for Crumb's little system.

Anyway.  I was instructed to pour hydrogen peroxide down Crumb's throat until he puked profusely.  What a terrible thing to do to your baby.  Within minutes he was barfing uncontrollably.  He vomited upwards of twenty times.. and if there was any doubt that Crumb had eaten the chocolate all by himself, there was no longer a lingering doubt.  Chocolate vomit all over our floor and rugs proved that his stomach was being emptied out quickly.  After the puke fest ended, I called the vet for further instructions.  In the meantime she had done research to see how concerning the situation truly was.  Crumb ate at least 2 oz. of pure dark chocolate, which is slightly larger than a Hershey's bar; this was twice the amount that his system could handle.  Even though his stomach was emptied, the concern was how much had already been absorbed into his bloodstream.  Cardiac arrhythmia was still a possibility.  In tears, I rushed a miserable, exhausted Crumb to the animal hospital where they pumped his stomach full of charcoal.   What scared me the most was when he showed signs of being over-caffeinated and he couldn't stay still.  It appeared that his mind was racing, but his exhausted little body couldn't keep up.  I wasn't ashamed to cry in the waiting room.

There's more to the story than that.  Basically I rushed him twice to the vet because of recurring symptoms.. It was horrible to watch him vomit up charcoal sludge.  The cherry on top of the evening was the black sludge that slimed out of his bottom after dinner.  By bedtime, he was so doped up on pain meds that he couldn't walk in a straight line.  Now it's the next morning and he's sleeping peacefully next to me on the couch.  The vet gave him a Halloween bandanna, and he's back to being my little boy.

The vet said that if I hadn't been home or hadn't gotten him to the vet, the chocolate ingestion could have been lethal.  Enough freak accidents happen in this world.. I'm not going to lose my little boy to a chocolate bar.  So seriously, don't shake a stick at a dog eating chocolate.  Milk chocolate?  No biggie.. White chocolate?.. What the heck is that anyway?  Certainly not real chocolate.  It's the dark stuff you need to worry about.

I now feel like I need to put my dark chocolate and baking chocolate under the sink with the cleaning supplies.. because to little guys like Crumb, they're just as poisonous.

I'm back.

I go through seasons in my life where sometimes I write, and sometimes I don't.  Those of you who followed me faithfully through my Xanga period know that well.  

I always know when it's time to write again; I'll know because I get a static-y feeling in my fingers and my mind will go over something once, twice, three times.  Almost like it MUST be told out loud for it to be of any importance.  That, and it can't just be forgotten; it would be such a waste.  

So I'm going to dive right in.  Just like I've done recently with my diary.  I won't go into lengthy detail trying to catch up about life and all its details.  I'll just start telling things that need to be told.  So you'll feel like you're opening a book half way through, but I'll make it easy on you.  Most of what I'll be writing about won't rely on chronology or explanation.  They will just be good ol'fashioned stories that need to be told.  

The first story to come is how my Pomeranian ate a 70% dark chocolate bar and needed to be rushed to the vet this afternoon [twice].  $130 later, we have a miserable little dog who was barfing up charcoal sludge all day.  But the story in detail will come a little later.

Thanks for reading.