Glorificus

At the beginning of the summer, a dear friend invited me to share in an organic 'share' from a local farm. I thought that this might possibly be quite awesome, and signed us up.

Since that time, it's become clear that I don't really know what to do with a wide variety of organic vegetables (especially since it seems that the wide variety is really mostly greens of one sort or another.) My tries to interest the family in these greens, usually by stir frying them in sesame oil and adding soy, are not well accepted.

So much that when picking up last week's share, Husband tried to convince my dear friend to keep ours. Dear friend's husband offered to help him carry it to the car. (heh. sounds like the greens are equally welcomed at her house.)

This week's share included beets. Which, to be honest, I first unsucessfully tried to roast to make delicious beet salad. (I know, right? So yummy!) It did not work out.

So imagine my happiness in having been introduced to Glory Bowls. "No, seriously", I said, putting on the rubber gloves to peel the beets (and changing after getting juice on work clothes, dammit to hell) "You're going to love it!"

"It's a Glory Bowl! It's gonna be glorious!!!" Husband looked askance at that. I mean, I guess I can understand his hesitancy.

"It was created in BC! I took out the tofu and added left over turkey!" Not better.

In fact, until I finished. And put it on the table.

MlleL declared it yummy. MasterP agreed. And so did Husband. In fact, he went back for seconds, and had so much that we barely have enough for lunch tomorrow.

Make this. Make it. You'll be thinking how awesome it is - healthy and super tasty. No gluten, for wheat haters, and if you don't want to use all that oil, well, then, don't!

Then? You too will be sitting around thinking about making this for a dinner party. Too informal? Perhaps. It's a rice bowl, after all.

Maybe, like me, you'll imagine your guests donning black robes and serving your every whim. I mean, it looked great for the first half of the season, right? Focus on that. And look out for a spunky blonde with a fake 'little sister'.

(yeah, that's right. I linked to explain the joke.....)

Changes....

Perspective is the weirdest thing.

It's so variable, so biased.

It has, in the months immediately following the half, become harder and harder to see my accomplishments. My waist is once again covered with layers of sloth and pancakes.

And so I return to the pavement, at an hour I have only previously vaguely talked about (5:30). Husband laughed at me when I've mentioned it before. I am not known as a morning person. But it's before the heat of the day, and (mostly) before the after work fatigue hits. It allows me a morning that is of my own choosing - and the time to wake up before I am hit by the demands of the day. It is a remarkably peaceful thing, but also, apparently a rather busy time of the day for other runners.

I love it. It gives me time to get the work out out of the way. I can listen to my podcasts and have lunch again, with others, and not feel guilty for having not done what I should have.

That said, these runs are affecting my perspective. Where once the distance was (a little) easier, they are difficult again. The early morning sun at my back strikes me in such a way as to cause my shadow to resemble a giant fertility figure - a tiny head and giant bottom waggling along the road. No wonder this is so difficult, I think, look at the size of that!

Mrs. Maiden has told me the story of her comeuppance as a 40-year-old. She was wearing her blue bikini and feeling rather proud of herself for doing that at her age; "not too shabby," I remember her describing herself. However, after laying on some sun warmed rocks in the North Channel during a cruise on the Maiden family boat, she sat up with a squelching, sucking noise. Her back fat had sealed her to the stone.

I remember thinking that was hilarious. Ok, well it kinda was, until the fertility figure thing.

And until I raised my arm to wave goodbye after having spent the weekend with awesome friends from my youth and most of our kids, doing really great beachy cottage type things, and caught a glimpse of the bottom of my arm waggling away in it's own fond farewell.

An AWARD!!!

Hey y'all!

So, look what I won!!! Cause' I'm brilliant in honest content!!

Awesome! Cause' look. I know I'm not here very much right now, and it's not that I don't love you, it's just that Mummy's a little busy right now. No, look at my eyes, I'm talking. No, I'm not CLAZY!!, nor am I LUUUDE!, and I will not have a TIME OUT!! I'm talking and I'm the mama.

My very good friend Wondermom gave me this. I think it might have been to inspire me, and it worked. Thanks very much, honey, it means a lot!!

But, as always, there are rules to follow, my dears, so...

1. Brag about the award.

2. Include the name of the blogger who gave you the award and link back to that blogger.

3. Choose a selection of blogs that you find brilliant in honest content (umm. This is hard. I kinda read like, four blogs, and one of them gave it to me, and I'm also really bad at tasking others, so..... You're all fantastic, and I mean that!!)

4. List at least ten honest things about yourself:

1. I frequently write everything I eat in a little book. It somehow clears my head of food clutter and allows me to do real work.
2. Sometimes I feel completely unprepared for parenting. I usually lock myself in the bathroom when that happens.
3. I'm really, really bad at telling lies. Pretty much, what you see is what you get.
4. I am always, always exhausted. I can't remember a time when I wasn't.
5. I'm also incredibly old. My American birth certificate says I was born in 1917. Heh. Which must be the reason I drink hot water before bed time, love cherry imperials, and drink Bristol Cream Sherry.
6. I am also very forgetful. (must be the age.) I write lists of everything everywhere. I've even left myself sticky notes on the dashboard to try to remember errands on the way home from work.
7. I am a perfectionist, but also a bit lazy, so my house always looks cluttered.
8. I am a number 6 on this crazy-assed personality test. My type is called the loyalist, or the skeptic, depending on which site (or book) you're forced to read. It would appear that I have (as I may have mentioned before) inherited Mr. Maiden's tendencies. Except I'd like to think that I might be a bit less on the umm, concentrated side as Mr. Maiden tended to be. If not, please feel free to drug me through my morning coffee. Which brings me to Number 9.
9. The number 9 has always been my favorite number (it's so neat and tidy - 3 sets of 3), and I was once responsible for helping family members secretly drug other family members to ease awkward social tensions during a very important family event. Ask me sometime. I'd be happy to tell you ALL ABOUT IT.
10. And one last, aching bit of honesty for you tonight before bedtime. This past month has made me wish more than anything I can explain that I had hugged my dad before he died. It is one of the biggest regrets of my life - We kissed, and held hands, and I rubbed his shoulder, but I did not hug him. We did not have that type of relationship. We loved each other terribly, but he wasn't able to be very comfortable with physical affection when I was an adult. Instead, I hug and kiss my father in law every day I see him. Stroking his now almost silent noggy in the hospice before he drifts back to sleep.