Everyone seems to be rocking gorgeous, light turquoise nails this summer. Reminds me of beautiful vintage things, kissed by the (sometimes literal) sands of time.
Here are some options if you’d like to try out this trend:
Turquoise and Caicos by Essie $8.50
Turned Up Turquoise by China Glaze $7.50
Turquoise by Pop Beauty Nail Glam $10
Maybe it’s the nomenclature of the second color but I’m feeling this song (even though the video is super weird)…
This is my beloved Ragdoll cat, Wink. He is named as such due to blindness in his right eye and he’s been my love since 2008. He enjoys nesting in cardboard boxes, sunbeams and quilts (see above). His brother, Garcia, lives in California. He loves ice cubes, plastic and bounding down the hallway at very random times for no particular reason. He is keen to be involved in various apartment activities including cooking dinner, living room floor yoga practice and Netflix binges (although whenever a character in a movie or show rings a bicycle bell he gets rather startled. This happens more often than you would think.). Feel free to ogle his cuteness. What a prince.
Over the last few years, working at my local co-op, I’ve encountered a lot of different fad diet do-ers, food restrictors and meticulous meal plan monitor-ers. No special dietary disciple, however, has picked up steam quite like the folk who believe going gluten-free will be the answer to all life’s troubles. Now I’m no virtuous eater. You gotta do you and eat what makes you feel good, I get that. I’ve just found it highly interesting to track this trend. I find it fascinating, when analyzing sales, that there are certain gluten-free products (english muffins, cookies, certain crackers, etc) which FAR outsell their gluten-filled counterparts. Now, a new study has presented evidence that non-celiac gluten sensitivity may not even be “a thing.”
From the article:
“30% of people want to eat less gluten. Sales of gluten-free products are estimated to hit $15 billion by 2016. Although experts estimate that only 1% of Americans — about 3 million people — suffer from celiac disease, 18% of adults now buy gluten-free foods.”
The study:
“The subjects cycled through high-gluten, low-gluten, and no-gluten (placebo) diets, without knowing which diet plan they were on at any given time. In the end, all of the treatment diets — even the placebo diet — caused pain, bloating, nausea, and gas to a similar degree. It didn’t matter if the diet contained gluten.” (Read more about the study.)
Could all the self-diagnosed gluten-sensitive sufferers just be one humongous example of the nocebo effect in action? I know this could be a touchy subject for some but, absolutely no judgement, I’d love to have some folks weigh in on this debate!
Here, Michael Pollan weighs in. And I rather agree with him. Some of the highly-processed, gluten-free foods just look like a nightmare to me. Too many ingredients that I can’t pronounce!
In the end, my hypothesis about all the hot diet trends is as follows—
Fad diets often work because they force you to cook and prepare your own food with actual ingredients. So, my advice…MAKE IT YOURSELF. KNOW WHERE YOUR FOOD CAME FROM. THE LESS INGREDIENTS THE BETTER. CUT OUT PROCESSED NONSENSE. …and if you still don’t want gluten soiling all the other stuff then by all means. 🙂
Did your parents read “chapter books” aloud to you when you were little? My mom would pick my sister and I up from school and drive our mini-van over to wait a half hour or so for my brother’s school to let out. In those little time slots, which could have been filled with whines of boredom, we were transported by way of Little Women, Little House on the Prairie, Pippi Longstocking, Heidi, Five Little Peppers and various Maria Von Trapp biographies to lands far away from parking lots on Price Road in Lexington, KY. Lands where little girls can live in houses dug out of a hill, lift horses clear over their head and play the piano beautifully–even when dying of scarlet fever. How lucky we were to have such stories float through our brains and imaginations as we climbed into the backseat to sneakily tug on ballet leotards. How lucky to hear stories of strong, intelligent, resilient and kind women and girls–real OR imagined.
What books were you lucky enough to hear as a young pup? What stories invoke your reading nostalgia? Do you feel they shaped who you are today? Or at least what you enjoy reading?
(Book cover photo via here.)
What are you up to this week? I’m hoping to spend as much time outside as possible (and maybe find time for some margaritas and a trip to the dollar theater to see…the Lego movie : ). Summer break have you twiddling your thumbs already? How about some stay-cation inspiration or a vicarious adventure through this great book! Have a wonderful week. Here are some links for you to check out…
A fun and informative biology lesson.
This school thinks leggings are lowering boys’ test scores.
How to set up a little free library in your ‘hood.
Baby seals just wanna snuggle.
Seaworld’s whales are struggling with mental health issues.
Should we get rid of deceptively precise SAT scores?
This story made me laugh. (and reminded me of something Adam and I might do.)
Could these be the hardest languages to master?
A ship sailing through loopholes in international law.
Just stay home.
Happy National Vegetarian Week! Here are 15 simple recipes if you’d like to celebrate by going meat free. : )
…and now it is time to rhythmically move your hips in celebration of the upcoming 2014 World Cup. Nothing says “We Are One” like J.Lo and flags!!!
On a recent Delta flight from Lafayette, LA to Atlanta, GA I happily partook in two of my most beloved air travel customs during the in-flight drink service. One, ginger ale and peanuts. I am utterly convinced that nothing tastes better while hurtling through the sky in a giant metal tube. And two, hard-core and unabashed people watching. After softly placing my requisite order with the flight attendant (Or was it loudly? Volumes are very hard for me to ascertain at such altitudes.) he handed over my rations while simultaneously inquiring “Something to drink?” Already on to the next row. “I’ll have a vodka tonic.” Glancing across the aisle, the lady ordering was the absolute picture of poise. Certainly in her late 70’s yet dressed and coiffed not a day over 65. Her pearl earrings were clip-ons but the glamorous kind. Her posture the product of what I can only imagine as equal parts privilege and determination. Out of her handbag she produced a drink ticket and offered it to the flight attendant as payment for her plastic cup cocktail. I wondered what else was tucked inside. If she, like me, had come prepared for a long day of travel by hoarding trail mixes and novels. The man pushing the drink cart and pulling in stale airplane air sputtered out in his Georgia Peach voice, “Delta hasn’t even had this logo in over a decade, hun! I think this ticket may be a bit too old.”
“I think you’ll find there is no expiration date on this ticket. You will, of course, have to honor it.”
I turned my head to let out a giggle so I failed to see the attendants reaction. I hope it was more admiration than anger. He, nevertheless, found an issued on date and read it aloud to all of us within ear shot, remarking in a somewhat belittling tone, “I hope this wasn’t the last time you went anywhere!”
“Absolutely not! This is simply the first Delta flight I’ve flown after 5 p.m. when it has been appropriate for me to have a drink.”
With that she took a sip and thanked him in the politest way possible–the sort of politeness one can only reach when wearing pearls and flying coach in the 7th decade of one’s life. The sort of manners born of equal parts privilege and determination.
(Photo via here.)
I’ve been fighting a summer cold the last few days. Getting things done in the 45 seconds in between when I have to blow my nose has been a struggle. Gross but real. To help, my friend Jarred brewed me the tea he and his girlfriend have been utilizing as an allergy elixir. I decided to tweak his recipe a bit and add some (medicinal) bourbon. The result? The most delicious and soothing hot toddy I’ve ever poured down my throat! This version adds a few components to the common equation HOT WATER + LEMON + HONEY + BOURBON (or whiskey) = HOT TODDY. Namely, lemongrass and elderberries. Lemongrass can be used to treat cough, fever, exhaustion and general symptoms of the common cold. It is anti-bacterial, anti-microbial and has powerful pain-relieving properties. Elderberry can be used for sinus pain, hay fever and immune system boosting. And they make teas and toddies taste DELIGHTFUL!
Now, it’s no secret that I love the prairie. So, in my heart, this hot toddy is a representation of what I believe pioneers may have turned to to treat symptoms similar to my own. Lately, this sort of approach to alternative medicine has been my go-to–ie) I wonder how they would have done this on the prairie (or some other interesting place and point in history)? And my own health and body make a great test subject. The results for this test were certainly positive. Sore throat soothed, sinuses opened, slept like an angel. Sometimes I wonder why I spent my early twenties on a constant cycle of Dayquil and Nyquil. Makes me shudder in retrospect. The solution could have been as easy and awesome as BOURBON! Oh Young Beth, how much you still had to learn back then.
Feelin’ a bit under the weather yourself? Never fear! Brew up one of these babies—
What you’ll need:
-tea kettle
-mug
-water
-1 tsp. dried elderberries
-1 tsp. dried lemongrass
-1 tbsp. local honey
-1 shot of bourbon
-½ a cinnamon stick
and how it all comes together:
-Put your kettle on to boil.
-Place elderberries and lemongrass into a tea infuser ball or reusable tea bag.
-Place ball/bag into mug along with bourbon, honey and cinnamon stick.
-Once water has boiled pour it over everything in the mug and fill to the top.
-Give it all a good stir and stick your nose right over top of the mug and deeply inhale while it cools to an appropriate drinking temperature.
Other, less prairie-approps, antidotes to my current summer cold/allergies: binge watching Call the Midwife, ramen with LOTS of sriracha (the lemongrass was fantastic in this as well. And ginger!), yoga inversions and twisting, and POUNDING WATER! Stay healthy, y’all! ❤
(Top photo via here.)
The other night, I watched the documentary “Mortified Nation.” A film about the stage show “Mortified” which, if you haven’t heard of, is basically a platform for adults to share their childhood writings with an audience of strangers. “Mortified Nation” combines performance footage from various shows with details on conception, implementation and production. In the opening scene, a teenager talks about her own private writings in her diary. She discusses this sacred book with reverence and questions; why would ANYONE want to read journal entries out loud to a room full of strangers? And you might be thinking the same thing. Yes, the stories shared by various performers throughout the film were embarrassing but they were also hilarious, deeply relatable and a gentle reminder that no matter who we become, when you get right down to it, we all came from the same place. A childhood where everything that happened was of grave importance when funnelled through a limited life experience.
After reading “The Geeks Shall Inherit the Earth,” this documentary really resonated with me both as a reminder of how we should be relating to teens and the emerging geek chic culture which Robinson discusses. As adults, it is easy to brush off the feelings and worries of children as unimportant. But “Mortified” literally spotlights some of the most important moments in these young lives. The performer embodies the younger version of themselves where first kisses, crushes, hatred were BIG. They grapple with emerging sexuality and conflicts with parents and we can relate. Yet, too often, put a real live teen in front of us with these same struggles and we think “you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, kid.” Young adults are starting to celebrate themselves (and the dorky childhoods that begot them) and serving as perfect examples for Robinson’s “quirk theory”–the characteristics that make your life terrible as a teen earn you accolades as an adult. For participants of “Mortified” these accolades are real, quantifiable celebrations like applause and laughter. Unsurprisingly, people go to these shows and leave wanting to participate. They want to share the shame. And I’ll be honest, watching the documentary made me want to do the same.
I’m much too flighty to have ever kept extended written accounts of my life. I’m always jealous of the people who have boxes full of nostalgia hidden under their bed. (The mormons are the best at this, aren’t they? Shout out to y’all!) Unfortunately, I’ve moved a lot and every so often I just get an unquenchable urge to throw shit away. I would also rather tell people my secrets then keep them under lock and key. Even an old online journal, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the internet, is gone. Kept for over four years, it would have made some great “Mortified” fodder. My account of every teenage first has disappeared into the ether of now defunct websites from the early aughts. To be real, thinking about it bums me out…more than it maybe should. Of course, I am me –I should know how I felt during those years (which were BIG years: I lived abroad, went to proms, had a couple boyfriends, got into college, won some speech things…lost my dad) but going back to THE exact moment where the emotions, good or bad, had bubbled up to a boiling point so dire that you had to get them out or risk implosion–is different. And I think it’s ok for those of us who didn’t set out to be great life historians to be a little sad we can’t go back. At least not in the same way our peers can who were and are.
I also wonder what “Mortified” would look like in subsequent generations. Now, more than ever before, we are all curators of a very public scrapbook of our own lives. Key word here being public. The “Mortified” performances are so raw because they ARE those secrets we once thought we would die if anyone uncovered. As one performer noted, “ If you’ve got something you feel like you would kill yourself if people found out, there’s no way you can hold on to that.” The advent of social media has completely turned this on it’s head. We are a culture who shares everything–and our youth are not excluded from this practice. We also adapt our accounts for audience. Admit it, we are all guilty of this. Myself included. When I look back at the online scrapbook I’m creating through Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, etc. in say, 10 years; will I see various vignettes of the most important moments in my life? Or will I see the moments I thought others would believe were the most important? The moments which would gain me instant gratification through immediate and public peer approval? Perhaps THIS is the very thing that will mortify us in the future. Only time will tell.
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Do you have embarrassing journals, letters, song lyrics from your past? Would you ever read them to a room full of strangers? If you’re in the mood for a hearty laugh with a shot to the arm of empathy, I wholeheartedly recommend this documentary, which is now streaming on Netflix.
(Picture of my high school via here. I love that it looks like a faded postcard. Embarrassing high school photos via Facebook by way of Rachel and Matt. : )
As you may have noticed, Finding delight. and writing in general have taken a bit of a backseat for me these last few weeks. Long work days, with long play days (I’m trying to enjoy Summer to it’s fullest while it lasts : ) interspersed as well, fill up my calendar to bursting. I figured this step away would be a great time to reflect on my writing. I strive to continue to grow and remain, as ever, a life-long learner. Here is a current assessment of my writing–
I’ve always felt an intense need to know the stories of others. Perhaps due to some innate, busybody quality so deeply ingrained in my curious person I seek them out without a moment’s hesitation. Or maybe, and this is certainly the more forgiving explanation I tend to hope is true, it is within these narratives I collect that my own story gains meaning. Yet peering down a dark, forgotten alleyway in someone else’s story in search of clues to create your own is troubling. I once saw a newspaper cartoon sum up the marketability of our stories rather aptly. Two bookshelves were shown in the memoir section of a bookstore–one labeled “People with lives way better than mine,” the other “People with lives way worse than mine.” As a reader, these subsections are comforting. Escapism and reassurance. Self-help and self-congratulation. But as a writer, I end up wondering; how can I tell my own life without touting my privilege or weighing the tragedy I’ve encountered against others’? Will anyone peer around a corner in my life and, startled, run right into themselves?
As I’m seeking to incorporate my own story into my writing much more than ever before, not always as the subject of- but at least the framework for-, I find this familiarity with the stories of others to be both a strength and a weakness. I know how to tease emotion to the front of the page. I have an understanding of what readers find compelling. I am honest. But I worry about relatability. I worry about form and length. And most detrimental, I still believe I can make the words and thoughts of another more beautiful than I can make my own. The reader is my best friend and my greatest enemy. I concern myself with people’s perceptions and approval before the first word hits the page. I’m not going to bullshit and say I would write for no one, that is a lie. I want everything I write to be read. I write FOR readers. In the end, I believe this audience awareness is an asset.
All of this being said, there is no particular aspect of my writing which keeps me awake at night. Yes, I could stand a refresher course in grammar–specifically commas, my writing teacher brother so sweetly pointed out. (I can’t help that I love them.) I have a penchant for writing as if my words will be spoken not read. Sometimes my style is anything but succinct. But I’m not losing sleep over any of these assessments. I know they can be rectified with practice and patience. What keeps me awake at night are my ideas and brainstorms. I lie in bed going over all the directions a topic could go, the sentences that could snap, the sources I could pull from. Even the perfect wording to an email comes to me as I settle in and keeps me restless in the dark for hours. For far too long these thoughts were overwhelming and resulted in little more than daydreams and conversation fodder. But more and more, I am learning to just wake up and write.
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In the coming weeks I shall explore what this assessment means for me as a blogger and will attempt to work towards regaining some consistency with my posts. I am working with a Writer’s Group for accountability purposes (which is super nerd-alert exciting for me) and camaraderie. My current goal for the next week is not just to WRITE but to work towards a more organized process. Any writers out there? What are your favorite organizational tips? I’d love to try my hand at some of your ideas or discuss them with my new writer’s crew. : )
Easter Sunday Chet and I set out on an all-day adventure in my neighborhood and finished the holiday with an Easter feast. You may be picking up on a pattern…one of my favorite budget-friendly activities is just walking around a given area. Stop where you want, eat what strikes your fancy, take pictures, enjoy the weather and the scenery–it’s as easy as that. You know that awesome feeling you get after you get home from a day at the beach? You’re all sunshine tired and bursting with happy endorphins, exhausted but alert, and food tastes amazing? Yeah, you can totally get that feeling not at the beach. Just go outside and explore your neighborhood! Here’s how we got it…
We needed fuel in the form of eggs in a basket brunch (Wink was photo-bombing the shoot)…
…”Ashland” Estate is gorgeous and just a few blocks walk–historic buildings, gardens and lovely paths abound…
…the blocks surrounding Ashland are great for ambling–we stop for pretty trees…
…stumbled upon a renovation of a home on the Historic Register and we found our way inside…
…love these blurry pictures because we look like ghosts…
…how perfect is this scenery?…
…after a trip to Starbucks for iced coffee and banana bread, stop and smell the tulips…
…soaking up the last of the sunlight before a delicious Easter dinner, including a rhubarb pie made by the master baker you see below. ; )
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Thanks for tagging along! Now go on a quest of your own and get cray sunshine tired…it’s totes worth it. ❤
Finding delight. 