Do you eat wheat?
Almost a year ago, on a whim, I decided to quit eating wheat. I was tired of feeling tired, and I thought Why not? Maybe it will help. It did. I’ve gone from taking iron supplements every day to never taking iron supplements (with the exception of a few days this past summer–that old familiar heartbeat-in-my-ears-low-bp-fast-pulse-ugh). I don’t know why this is. And I don’t feel like dissecting it. Does white flour impede iron absorption? Was I not eating enough of other things because I was filling my belly with flour? Do I have an intolerance to wheat? I don’t know. All I know is that, for me, no wheat = so, so, so much better feeling. And I don’t really miss it, not much at least. I miss pumpernickel bread. I miss The Donut Friar. It’s OK, though; I have a brilliant strategy for that one. I’m just never going to go to Gatlinburg ever again. See?
Holiday get-togethers can be awkward, though. Mac & cheese, stuffing, gravy, rolls, pie, cake, breaded anything…can’t, won’t, not worth it. And I’ve decided that instead of developing a permanent pastime of watching people eat whilst I fidget with my hands, I’m going to attempt a new strategy of preparing stuff I can eat and trying to peddle it. It might be an epic fail.
And the mac & cheese with the bacon for the freckly blue-eyed guy. Sigh. I think I have a quarter cup of flour in the house. Somewhere.
And that will be Thanksgiving.
I’m looking forward to Christmas at my parents, though!! My mom makes breakfast! She makes me as many sunny-side-up eggs as I want, and I sit and eat my delicious plate of runny yellow goo and I’m so deliriously happy. Those eggs are like the best part of Christmas for me. I like the dark, joyful, desolate ride home after Christmas Eve worship, and then that plate of goo the next morning.
And then I’ll start thinking of Passover…quail, herbs, honey, oh my goodness…now that will be a wonderful meal, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Happy Thanksgiving. E-mail me if you’re going to be alone and sad, and I’ll see what I can do about that.
My husband’s going to be not happy that I just wrote that.