Tag Archives: avocado

Hero

Not having a great deal of food in the house paired with the fact that I’m trying to limit cow’s dairy can be lame sometimes.

Or inspire creativity.

Yesterday I packed a quick breakfast to eat at my desk.

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Blackberries, blueberries, and pomegranate swimming in light coconut milk, with the last of my Uncle Sam cereal mixed in at the last minute. It looks grainy because it kinda was (my leftover bag of coconut milk had seen the microwave  a few too many times). Didn’t taste grainy, though, so I guess that’s all that matters. 😛

I stole an idea from Courtney in creating my lunch. The other day she tweeted about having a goat cheese, avocado, and red sweet pepper quesadilla, and I decided that was way more fun than a peanut butter sandwich.

I used some corn tortillas I had on hand and loaded them with goat cheese, avocado, half a red pepper I carefully haphazardly roasted over my gas range, grilled chicken, and spinach.

I have a problem with overloading my quesadillas. I always feel the need to increase my veggies.

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Mmm. My photography needs serious work.

This was so good that I’m making this for lunch again tomorrow, only I’m putting it in a pita instead!!!

For dinner I ate some pan-fried chicken, steamed drowned-in-sea-water broccoli, and some roasted delicata squash I seasoned with rubbed sage and salt.

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Yum. Frying anything is a rarity in my house!

But dark chocolate isn’t.

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30 Day Challenge
Day 5: A time you thought about ending your own life

I mentioned in my previous 30 Day Challenge entry that I had a dark period in my life in early high school. During that particular year I had all the classic signs of depression: couldn’t sleep, couldn’t concentrate, was always tired, lost interest in things I usually loved, was involved in a codependent relationship with someone who was far worse off than I was, had a general dark and bitter outlook on the world, felt hopeless and misunderstood (ah, 13 year olds), was emotional and didn’t know how to express myself constructively. I don’t remember having much of an appetite, but I gained quite a bit of weight that year. But I was never suicidal. I never remotely believed that death was an answer to anything. Maybe it was my upbringing; maybe it was my faith; maybe it was my common sense, but suicide wasn’t an option.

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(A blurry picture of my sister, Holly, and me during an end-of-semester program for my homeschool group back in December, 2002, right as my depression was setting in)

In a way I’m thankful for that year. I’m thankful in the “you know light because you’ve known darkness” way, but also because that experience made me a little more aware, a little more sensitive, a little less naïve about the world we live in. Something in me permanently changed as a result of that year. Peers who were dealing with issues much deeper and darker than I ever had were drawn to me, even though they knew nothing of my prior struggles and I wasn’t depressed when they met me. I became unspeakably approachable to them, in part because I was never part of the “in” crowd anyway, and that year helped me (even if I went overboard in expressing it at age 13) in being confident in my individuality. I tended to (and still often do) move against the mainstream. It was easy for me to empathize with the darkness I saw in others, but I was also grounded in reality and in my faith. I was a constant for many people who came in and out of my life. I was someone they could talk to without judgment. I was someone who could relate to what they were feeling, if only distantly. I was someone who would try to understand and care about them as a whole soul, a whole human being, instead of passing them off as “weird,” “messed up,” or a “punk kid.” I had friends dabble in Satanic worship, and I was there for them when they came out of it. I’ve had friends struggle with eating disorders, self-mutilation, promiscuity, self esteem issues, physical abuse, drugs, rape, prostitution, abortion, mental disorders, and yes, even attempted suicide. On one occasion, my friend Brandon had me to talk to a friend of his who was having self esteem issues. I became friends with this particular person, and a year later he told me that he was about to attempt suicide (for the third time) that night we first spoke, but something I said stopped him. It’s been seven years and he hasn’t attempted suicide since.    

I don’t say all this to toot my own horn or anything. I share this because even though I’ve never considered attempting suicide, I’ve known what it’s like to feel hopeless, alone, and misunderstood. I can clearly see what drives people to get involved in questionable activities and sometimes even attempt suicide. The people that deal with these issues usually look just like you and me. They look “normal.” They often blend in. We’re all human beings with souls and a purpose, and we all struggle. The difference is experience and how we deal with them. And we all need to open our minds and our hearts to those whose perspectives we might not understand. It just might save somebody’s life.

 

I could share many different songs that deal with this subject, but I’ll leave you with two of my favorites:

 

Have you ever been a hero to someone?
Who has been a hero to you?

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Bacon and Avocado go together like Peanut Butter and Banana. Plus! The Question of Alcohol

 

Speaking of bacon…

It makes the perfect salad.

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I’ve said before that I’m not big on salad, but just like I prefer nutty/fruity/cheesy salads, I LOVE avocado-y/bacon-y salads!

This baby had romaine, spinach, a boiled egg, BACON, avocado, some bits of deli turkey, parmesan, and some pomegranate arils for a sweet crunch.

I guess some would call this something of a cobb salad. Or a turkey club sandwich. I call it an awesome lunch. Fo shizz.

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30 Day Challenge
Day 3: What are your views on drugs and alcohol?

Hmm, well this being a healthy living-oriented blog, I would imagine my response to drugs would be pretty cut-and-dry. Obviously anything illegal I’d consider a no-no on many levels.

I also try to limit any other pharmaceuticals. It’s not that I have a moral issue with them, but I don’t think they should be the primary fix for a problem. I’d rather address health issues by natural means than pop a pill. Plus, (and I’ve heard rumors that it’s because I’m a redhead) I build resistance to medications VERY quickly. If I take ibuprofen three times in one week, by the third time, it doesn’t really work anymore. And acetaminophen and asprin have never really worked on me. I like to look at pharmaceuticals as “last resorts” or “supplements” when natural means (nutrition, rest, etc.) aren’t enough.

When it comes to alcohol, I see things a little differently.

I grew up in a family that didn’t drink ever. And that’s alright. I never felt the urge to drink growing up. I don’t believe that drinking is a sin, but drinking can be a habit that spirals out of control quite easily. It can be controlling without really taking on the title of an “addiction.” Just like I easily go overboard with sugar and “dry carbs,” someone else can go overboard on occasion with alcohol. Or just like someone who eats emotionally, one can drink to drown their sorrows. Neither of which I recommend.

C.S. Lewis wrote a book called, The Screwtape Letters, which is entirely written in the form of one “head demon” (Screwtape) writing letters to a lesser demon (Wormwood) as to how he can successfully derail a particular man away from God. When I first read the book, this particular passage struck me as uniquely profound, and I still refer to it when explaining my stance on the use of alcohol:

“You are much more likely to make your man a sound drunkard by pressing drink on him as an anodyne when he is dull and weary than by encouraging him to use it as a means of merriment among his friends when he is happy and expansive. Never forget that when we are dealing with any pleasure in its healthy and normal and satisfying form, we are, in a sense, on [God]’s ground. I know we have won many a soul through pleasure. All the same, it was His invention, not ours. He made the pleasures: all our research so far has not enabled us to produce one. All we can do is to encourage the humans to take the pleasures which our Enemy has produced, at times, or in ways, or in degrees, which He has forbidden. Hence we always try to work away from the natural condition of any pleasure to that in which it is least natural, least redolent of its Maker, and least pleasurable.”

I had my first “drink” while visiting an Episcopal church while in college. They held communion every Sunday and always used real wine.

I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to “swig” wine, and my throat burned for quite a while.

Besides that time, when I first started getting interested in cooking I decided to start experimenting with cooking wine. Yes, the vile, sodium-laden abomination toward grapes. But hey, we start somewhere, right? I didn’t care to drink before the age of 21, and when I did turn 21, I make it my personal mission NOT to go drinking to celebrate my birthday, simply because I think that’s overrated and cliché. I did have my first “real” drink about 2 weeks before my 21st birthday while hosting a fancy roast beef Sunday dinner with my roommate. I used a Cabernet Sauvignon to braise the meat, and we also served it with dinner. I could barely drink it. I forced down four tiny sips and gave the rest to Edgar! The roast was amazing, though. 😉

Since then I’ve had and enjoyed various different types of wines and tasted a few weird beers (pumpkin ale, anyone?) more out of culinary curiosity. I have developed a bit of a taste toward some wines, but I usually can’t finish a whole 6 oz glass, and that’s perfectly alright with me. I think I prefer cooking with it, but I do enjoy it occasionally as a drink when the mood strikes, which happens maybe once a month. And in the spirit of my C.S. Lewis quote, it’s only when I’m enjoying relaxed merriment with a very small group of very close friends or in the comfort of a cozy evening with Edgar. If anything, having to sip a drink slowly helps me slooooow dooooown and enjoy the moment instead of being a spastic hostess. Hah!

 

Did you grow up in a house where alcohol was tolerated? Encouraged? Discouraged?