Is it us or is it them?

Gluten intolerance, Gluten sensitivity or Celiac disease – is it us or is it them?

 When I eliminated wheat from my diet a number of life long health problems vanished. I did not spend money at the doctors office so that they could give me a label. As a matter of fact- I don’t believe I have any special type of disease or intolerance. Now that I have done my own research I have come to the conclusion that humans were never meant to eat wheat in the massive quantities that we now consume – nor were we meant to be able to digest the modern hybrids that make up most of the worlds supply of wheat today.

 But instead of saying that the food supply is the problem the standard approach is to say that the individual is the problem. You now have a disease because you cannot function properly when you eat stuff that is not good for you.

 Millions, probably Billions, of people ingest chemical cocktails (processed foods) every day. A large number of those people do not have health problems or, if they do, those problems are blamed on heredity, lack of exercise, or other environmental exposure --- NOT the food (fuel) source.

  So just because a boat load of people can eat stuff that is not healthy does that mean that if YOU can’t then YOU have a disease?

 So is it you? Do you have a ‘condition’? Do you have a Disease? Is there something wrong with YOU? Or could it be that YOU are not the problem, rather the fuel (food) is the problem?

Turkey on a stick

So I have the turkey baby with the broken leg. Pragmatic Jeanine uses common sense in these situations - plus the fact that I absolutely cannot stand to see an animal suffer under any circumstance.

I take the tiny baby and go out of sight of the poultry area to 'do the deed'. The baby is so vigorous and a little feisty. It is not the least bit lethargic or stressed, more like pissed off or irritated in some way. One tiny but firm claw grips my finger and the little wings flap angrily.

“Don’t do it” my heart says. “Get it over with” says my head. I can't do it. Something unfamiliar tugs at me and for the first time in my life, I can't do it. "Tomorrow" I say to myself and I put the baby down in the shade sandwiched in-between shallow trays of water and food.

Tomorrow is today, I didn't get home until 3:30a.m., barely got 6 hours of sleep and now only a short break until time to go back to work again. But these are excuses - I cannot excuse myself for letting an animal suffer and die a slow death of pain and starvation or dehydration - so I go out to get the baby.

Did you know that a bird can hop around on one leg? Kind of like a pogo stick? Pogo (he/she has now been named) is hopping all over the place. It stumbles a bit in the tall grass but is right back up again with dogged determination and scrambling around along with the other babies. My husband moves the baby to a place in the shade and puts down a piece of watermelon next to it. The baby makes a fussy irritated noise and hops off pogo style, trips and falls, and gets up again to pogo through the grass to keep up with the others.

I am in awe of the fighting spirit; the spirit that won't lay down and cry, but instead grabs at life's ragged edges and enjoys and savors the little bits just as much, or more, than those of us who have the whole big piece.

So you go dude, or dudette! There must have been a reason that I couldn't 'do the deed' and I think I want to keep your feisty spirit around for a while. There may be more that you want to teach me.

Hot wires are not just for dogs anymore - or - Dreaming of Snakes

It’s dark out, it’s just after 1:00am and I have just gotten home from work.  Standing in outside the back door with my ‘evening’ glass of wine I can hear the hot wire popping.  “Damn, something has grounded it out again” and I think that I’ll just deal with it in the morning.

But it nags at me and I go out to have a look.

One of the Lucys’(that is what we call all of the turkey hens) has abandoned her nest and is outside the pen with Frank (the Tom);  “Hussy”, I think to myself.

Then I see another of the hens off of her nest and pecking at something.  There is a snake with a belly full of turkey egg caught halfway in and out of the poultry wire.  On one end a turkey is pecking at it and on the other end it is getting zapped with electricity – not a good day – and it’s about to get worse.

I hate to kill snakes because they are the best rodenticide that money can’t buy.  But now that it has shown a preference for eggs over voles and mice………well it has got to go.

So the snake is dispatched, the hens are back on their nests and I have had three hours sleep.  Think I’ll be taking a nap today.  And if I dream about snakes it doesn’t mean I have been spiritually enlightened, it just means I’m worrying about my Lucys. 

This is a rant - Just because I might look like you...............

This is a rant… Just because I might look like you: and if you don’t like the following comments PLEASE unsubscribe from this blog.

 Please don’t assume that just because my face is white that I want to hear your stupid racist stories about how you stumbled into a Latin neighborhood and you were the only ‘white woman’ around or how you were all by yourself an...d this ‘big black guy’, etc. etc, etc. 

 Now before you start in about how you are not racist think about this: Would you be telling me this story if my face were not white? No, you would think I would be offended – guess what – I’m still offended. So please, could you check to make sure that everyone at the party / office / church is as prejudiced as you are before you start saying stupid sh$# like that?

   I’m am sick to death of this and over the years it seems to be getting worse – not better.

 Oh, and one more thing. If you do happen to find yourself the only white face in a black/latin/whatever neighborhood here’s a tip for you:
You are not special – they do not care about you – they are not interested in you – so get over yourself.

Life on an island - or I want to be the normal one

I propose a 52^nd state for sustainable living enthusiasts.  It appears to me that the large majority of us are living on our own little isolated islands.

  When I talk to the local grocery store developer about foods free of chemicals he says “do you mean organeek?”

  When I try to explain that I am not actually a vegetarian but I do not eat factory farmed meat I get the-deer-headlights look and much rolling of the eyes.

  And when people ask for advice on gardening they totally reject the idea that you NEED dandelions and that you DON’T need to bring in truck loads of topsoil.

In my fantasy 52^nd state (or even town) we would not live in McMansions but rather small easy-to-heat and cool homes that we could reasonably expect to pay off in the near future.  We would trade seeds of locally grown vegetables.  We could go to each others houses to eat dinner without being subjected to Cool Whip and we could get totally wasted on the neighbors’ homemade wine and fattened up on pork rinds raised and cooked up within a few miles of our own back yard.  Someone would always know where the wild mushrooms are and someone else would always have the best pudding recipe made from local raw milk.

No one would shop at the big W but instead we would support our locally owned feed and hardware store – and some of us might even work there.  If I needed soap I could go down to Jans’ house and buy some of her rosemary laced bars and if I needed honey I would walk around the corner to Bobs’ house for a jar or two. 

When we wanted a Pizza night we would gang up on Michelle for a community pizza dinner and for an extra ‘tip’ she might throw in Margaritas.  Delivery would be out though – I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t be cool with that.

In the 52^nd state each house would have its’ own mini food forest and apartments would have larger food forests instead of manicured green grass and rows of pansies.  I actually lived in an apartment complex like this in W. Germany over 20 years ago.

Sure, it’s a fantasy, but it’s my fantasy.  In my fantasy people who are living sustainable lives with a thought to leaving our local community a healthier, cleaner and more sustainable place for generations to come are the norm – and people who just want life out of a box would be , well, not normal.

Grocery store in the back yard.

Busy morning around here.  Nothing goes to waste:  19lbs of turkey in the freezer and bones and assorted parts in the roasting pan – after they are roasted and browned they go in the crock pot.  The cat is hanging around for bits and pieces, feathers and assorted other stuff is charred and goes in the garden.  Seedling tomatoes are outside enjoying some rain and the mint is ready for another cutting to make tea.  And the cycle continues.  It feels good to know that my back yard is my grocery store.

We all work for a living around here.....

Turkey harvesting day is tomorrow at my house.  I sent the four princesses (non-laying hens) an invitation to be a part of this event.  This morning they declined my invitation and sent me an egg in response.  We all work for a living around here.