Unexpected item in the bagging area

One of the many things I miss from Ireland is newspapers, or more specifically the weekend newspapers.  I never had the time or inclination to read a daily paper but I did like the weekend papers, even if it usually took me the full week to finish them.  Newspapers here just don't compare and reading the Irish papers online doesn't have the same appeal.  I especially like the Review section of the Saturday Independent.  It covers a good range of topics and introduces things I would not otherwise stumble upon in my everyday life.  

My parents kept a stash of Reviews for me to read when I was home in July but a combination of jet lag and late nights meant that I didn't have the brain capacity to read them then.  I brought them back with me and put them in my to read box.  I used to put my to read stash on the bookshelf in the sitting room but the pile would look at me reproachfully when I was in the throes of a Netflix binge so I moved it to a box under the side table where it was out of sight but close at hand.  

Yesterday I was dusting (a rare enough occurrence) and whilst giving the lid a wipe, I opened the box to see how much was in there.  The excitement!  I had totally forgotten about the Reviews.  So what if some of the stuff is old and the events have already happened.  There are book reviews galore, recommendations for shows that will hopefully make it to Netflix here and articles that help paint a picture of what Ireland is like beyond the front page headlines.  I am beside myself with the unexpectedness of it all.    

The Fear

You know that feeling when you have to do something that you really don't want to do and it's not even that you don't want to do it, it's that you're scared.  Stomach churning, heart thumping, s**t scared.  It may defy all logic and make sense to no-one but you but still it persists.  The fear.  

Last week I faced a fear that I have been avoiding for quite some time.  I could have dodged it again but I thought "No. I need to get over myself.  How bad could it be?".  You're probably thinking "Well done you, good woman yourself".  Well before you get carried away, you should probably know that even though I did the thing that scared me, it only served to confirm that it was definitely as scary as I thought it would be and I should never do it again.

Let's just say that me and steep driveways where you feel like you are plummeting to your death on the way down and all you can see is sky when you are driving back up, are not ever going to see eye to eye.

Doppelganger

A while back I was in a shop I had never been in before, in a shopping centre I had never been in before, in a city three hours from where I live.  A woman came up to me and started chatting to me.  Like full on chatting as if she knew me.  After a moment's blind panic thinking, wait do I actually know this woman and I've just lost my mind, I realised that no, she was a complete stranger.  

I interrupted her gently and suggested that maybe she was mistaking me for someone else.  I figured my accent would quickly tip her off to the fact that I wasn't who she thought I was.  Apparently not.  She was adamant that we had met previously and my two daughters went to the same school as hers.  I explained that I only had one daughter and I lived in Rotorua not Auckland.  She didn't seem convinced.  

So if you are an Irish woman who lives in Auckland, has two daughters and looks like me and now the school gate Mums think you are rude because you won't talk to them in Sylvia Park, I do apologise.    

Like Inktober but sort of not

So there is this cool thing called Inktober which is a month long art challenge where artists are given prompts and are challenged to produce ink drawings based on their interpretation of the prompts.  I thought this was an interesting way to encourage people to be creative whilst exploring subjects they possibly wouldn't normally consider.  

All very inspiring but other than stick people, I can't actually draw so that could be a slight issue.  Never fear, Pinterest has thrown up a writing prompts version of Inktober so I'm going to give that a go.  This is really just a heads up that there may be some random posts coming your way in October but don't worry, I haven't completely lost the plot.

Read Me

I'm a great woman for lists.  My favourite being my to read list.  I used to write it in my diary/notebook but a couple of years ago I started using www.goodreads.com as not only can I add in the books I would like to read, I also now have a list of books that I have already read.  Especially helpful when publishers decide to change the cover of a book and thus trick me into thinking that I haven't read it.  

When I head to the library I usually have a quick check of my to read list to see if  anything is available.  Today was the perfect storm - 5 of my to read books were available.  Considering I am already in the middle of a book, I should probably have opted for moderation and just taken one or maybe two, but moderation is overrated so I took the lot!  

For the foreseeable future my catchphrase is going to be "I'll just finish this page....".

Anchor Me

As a child I remember getting a diary one year for Christmas.  Full of eagerness, I cracked it open and busied myself filling in all the birthdays of my family and friends.  The first week or two were filled with thoughts and happenings of the day.  Then as time wore on the entries became more sparse.

"Ate breakfast.  Went to school. Swimming lesson after school.  Had chicken for dinner".

Rather than a reflection on how my day had felt, it became a list of things I had done.  I was reminded of my childhood diary today when I wrote a list.  This was not like my normal list of things to do, this was a list of things that I had already done.  None of the things I did were on a to do list so I didn't even have the satisfaction of crossing them off.  So why bother?

The why stems partially from a need to justify my existence, partially from the hope that on days when the list is lacking, it will spur me on to get off my ass and do things.  It's also a way to give some sort of definition to my days.  You know on police dramas when they ask the suspect "Where were you on the morning of April 23?".  I would scoff to myself, "like any normal person would have a clue how to answer that question!".  Then I realised that I couldn't remember what I had done on Monday.  And it was only Thursday.  Of the same week.  And I literally hadn't a clue.  

Eventually I pieced together some memories and sort of remembered how Monday had gone.  Now I don't think I am in danger of early onset dementia just yet, it's more a case that my days lack a huge amount of structure so they tend to blend together.  If nothing significant happens then there are very little distinguishing features to identify one day from the next.  

When you go out to work you normally have a routine.  A rough schedule that may differ slightly from day to day but ultimately forms a framework to how your week looks.  When you are at home without any little ones to take care of, the possibilities are vast and endless (as long as they can be done by school pick up time).  But vast is an overwhelming thing to face down every morning.  Especially when you are also trying to figure what the hell you want to do with your life. 

Some days it would be easier to just bury myself in cleaning because it appears there is always something in this house that needs to be cleaned.  If only I didn't detest cleaning so much this could make for a fulfilling day.  Remember when you were supposed to be studying for an exam but instead you would make your bed and tidy your room and do literally anything you could find to do rather than study?  Well that's me with cleaning.  The only reason I ever iron is because then I can justify watching Netflix in the middle of the day.

Much as I like structure and order, I don't want to become the sort of person who always bakes on Monday and does the grocery shopping on Tuesday and has a set task for every day of the week.  I do like the flexibility that I have at the moment but some days I feel like I need to rein it in a bit.  There's a fine line between planning a project and losing 3 hours to Pinterest in the name of "research".  

  

The Little Things

There has been a whiff of the martyr about me of late.  A faint hint of "woe is me" in the air.  When offered dessert, I politely decline with a rueful shake of the head.  Bakeries are swiftly passed with only the occasional wistful backward glance.  Restaurant menus have become a minefield of delicious downfalls.

Bread rolls warm from the oven, wheaten bread with lashings of butter and jam, chewy sourdough, spongy focaccia, oozy garlic bread - you are a fond but distant memory.

But why?  Why would I intentionally deprive myself of such tasty treats?  Why would I choose to avoid so many things I like to eat?  Because dear friends, I have been betrayed by what I love the most.  Damn you gluten and your delicious elastic proteins.

When your belly is so bloated after eating that you look like you are 5 months pregnant and the noise your stomach makes while trying to process your food sounds like that creature from Alien is about to burst forth, something has to change.

After about a year of feeling not quite right and having ruled out anything sinister, I went to see a dietitian to see if we could figure out what was going on.  I kept a food diary for a couple of weeks before I went in and as she read through it there was a lot of head nodding and aha-ing.  At last I thought, an answer to the question of what was causing the problems.  Well everything apparently.

Ok that's probably a slight exaggeration but it definitely felt like it at the time.  The dietitian suspected that Irritable Bowel Syndrome might be the culprit and yes it is exactly as much fun as it sounds.  I had to do a four week elimination diet where I ate a very limited range of foods to try to reset my system.  Imagine the most boring bland things you can eat - no bread, no pasta, no fruit.  The first week was spent in a hangry haze.  The second week felt like I ate rice for every meal.  The last two weeks were more of the same.

After the four weeks were up I started reintroducing various foods to see how I reacted to them.  Badly seemed to be the general consensus.  So goodbye gluten, onions, garlic, apples, pears and cherries.  Farewell bread, pasta, noodles, couscous, wraps, crackers and greasy food.  Hello to the weird "free from" aisle in the supermarket.

I was not a happy camper.  Most evenings when cooking dinner, onions and garlic were the first things into the pot.  Not any more.  Staring into the cupboards all I could see where things I couldn't eat but really, really wanted to.  Breakfast was fine, I just ate the muesli I usually ate.  For lunch on the go I could grab some sushi.  Dinner and snacks were where I really struggled.  No more grabbing an apple and a quick sandwich.  Sure you can get gluten free bread and it is fine when toasted but it's stodge city if you use it for a sandwich.  Plus the slices are tiny and it costs three times the price of normal bread.

So began months of trial and error, a bit like moving to a new country and trying out different brands and foods you've never seen before.  Some things worked, some not so much.  Quinoa was better than I thought it would be, once I figured out it needs to be made with stock to have any semblance of flavour.  I found a nice gluten free pizza base and a ready mixed chocolate brownie pack.  I have officially given up on GF wraps as they taste how I imagine soggy cardboard would and as for konjac noodles, they had the consistency of an elastic band and were binned after the first mouthful.

I have tried to minimise the impact of my change in diet on my family.  Dinner now involves a lot more washing up as my pasta or sauce is cooked in a separate pot.  We eat way more rice and potatoes than we used to.  Mostly I have accepted the changes with good grace as I do definitely feel better but sometimes I still feel a bit hard done by.

Last week taught me to get over myself and appreciate the little things.  I had a stomach bug so had  nothing for three days apart from 7 up and re-hydration sachets.  Once I was over the worst of it and starting to feel hungry again, I decided to chance some toast.  The unbridled joy of a piece of warm toast (even GF toast) dripping with melted butter.  It was a gastronomic delight after three days of a gurgling empty stomach.

Maybe it's time to leave behind what I can't have and start focusing on being grateful for what I do have.