Gluten-Free · Muffins · Musings · Recipes

Doppelgänger Muffin

Gluten-Free Coconut Almond Chia Muffins

I’m learning to cook gluten-free and frequently end up with dry baked goods. I’m not generally crazy about the flavor either, compared to gluten alternatives, this beauty is moist and flavorful! It is packed with protein, healthy oils, and fiber.

muffin

1/2 cup Coconut flour *

1/2 cut Almond flour *

1 tsp baking soda

4 Tbs Chia Seeds

1/2 cup honey

1 cup coconut, or other, milk

6 eggs

4 Tbs coconut oil or butter, melted

3 tsp vanilla extract

(* you can use a whole cup of Coconut flour or a whole cup of  Almond flour instead of half of each)

  1. Preheat oven to  350 degrees F
  2. Sift the flours and baking powder in a bowl. Mix in Chia seeds
  3. In a separate bowl or blender, whisk honey, milk, eggs, oil/butter, and vanilla
  4. Gently stir wet ingredients into dry
  5. Pour into greased or lined muffin tins, filling 3/4 full
  6. Bake for 25 minutes or until toothpick inserted comes out clean
  7. Remove from tin and cool on rack
  8. Enjoy as is or with a dollop of yogurt or with ice-cream and/or fruit of choice!

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/doppelganger/

Musings

Don’t Rush the Mush

mush

I’ve cared for a 100 year old lady for over 2 years and she’s had “mush” – cream of wheat – every morning. She always says “Don’t rush the mush.” Here’s our morning routine – guilt free…

Hush…

I’m snuggled in my comfy plush

Basking in my coffee flush

When you’re a hundred there’s no rush

Sleeping till noon won’t make me blush.

Take your time, help someone else first

One more snooze then I’ll wash & brush.

 

 

I know it’s my favorite dish of the day,

Topped with brown sugar and luscious cream,

But please my dear, no rush on the mush!

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/guilty/

Acceptance · Aging · Body image · Caregiving · Dementia · Elderly · Humor · Musings · Scripture · True Story

My Body is a Sagging Tent

odometer

A dear friend, 6 significant years younger than I,  contacted me feeling woebegone.

She’s about to turn forty and she feels lousy. Her eye-sight is suddenly failing, her metabolism is on strike, and her children – all under the age of 8 – think they are smarter than her despite her doctorate degree. She’d envisioned running a research department at a prestigious university by this age, but now she sits in a dingy diner trying to make out the blurry menu and not kick her rugrat crawling around under the table who just said, “those last people had weally good Fwench Fwies.” Sigh.

Since I’m about to turn forty five, I laughed my head off at her. I bought myself the sign above at a fun store in Rockaway Beach. Poor baby. She has no idea that she’s living the best times and that it’s downhill, fast, from there. See dear, we are now officially middle aged! That’s a true fact. Read it again.

It’s funny to me how 60 year-olds think they’re middle aged. Anyone that thinks we are not middle aged, is actually old and in denial about their status unless they think they will live to be 120.  Which is not going to happen. Please scoot your walker forward, you’re knocking on geriatric. If you don’t own a walker yet, you can get one at the local senior center for a $5 donation. Go get it. I said, (a little louder, and with hand motions) go get it. You can thank me later. The only exception is my 100 year old resident who frequently observes, with disdain, other residents who are much younger than she, and says, “I hope I don’t act like that when I’m old.” Ha!

Our conversation called to mind these superb words from Ecclesiastes 12.

Remember your Creator
    in the days of your youth,
before the days of trouble come
    and the years approach when you will say,
    “I find no pleasure in them”—
before the sun and the light
    and the moon and the stars grow dark,
    and the clouds return after the rain;
when the keepers of the house tremble,
    and the strong men stoop,
when the grinders cease because they are few,
    and those looking through the windows grow dim;
when the doors to the street are closed
    and the sound of grinding fades;
when people rise up at the sound of birds,
    but all their songs grow faint;
when people are afraid of heights
    and of dangers in the streets;
when the almond tree blossoms
    and the grasshopper drags itself along
    and desire no longer is stirred.
Then people go to their eternal home
    and mourners go about the streets.

Remember him—before the silver cord is severed,
    and the golden bowl is broken;
before the pitcher is shattered at the spring,
    and the wheel broken at the well,
and the dust returns to the ground it came from,
    and the spirit returns to God who gave it.

The “keepers of the house” must be our muscles, “the strong men” our bones. The “grinders” are our teeth. By “fear of heights” the inspired writer means the curb. Be grateful that you can hop right up or down from it today, my dear. A time will come when you will pray that a Boy Scout (who might be a girl- don’t try to understand that) is walking by so it takes you 5 instead of 30 minutes to maneuver getting up or down that curb.

Is the silver cord our hair that will all have fallen off or is it our spinal cord whose reflexes will be calcified. Is the golden bowl our once brilliant PhD brain which will lead us to crawl under the table eating the previous occupants Fwench Fwies? Can you picture carrying a full pitcher and a walker, with shaky hands and a stooped back? Forget about it!

The “wheel… broken at the well” tells you there may be water down there but you ain’t getting it. Just about all you do takes too much effort and creates problems of its own. Or is the spilling, broken pitcher at the spring addressing the deficiencies of our bowel  and bladder functions? Maybe that refers to the female process while the wheel with its defunct rope refers to the male. How annoying to have a bladder full of liquid, move heaven and earth to get to the bathroom, then dribble three drops of urine and be done? That is until you get back to your power recliner and you gotta go, NOW!

But don’t feel bad about this prognosis. There are numerous upsides to the aging process as your youth disappears, the best of which is you can say whatever you darn well please. I can’t remember the rest. But I do remember a brilliant quip some senior citizen came up with that goes something like:

“I can’t walk, I can barely talk, I can’t screw, I can’t poo, I can’t see, and I can’t hear. Good thing I still have my driver’s license!”

So my advice to you is from Ecclesiastes 11.

Light is sweet,
    and it pleases the eyes to see the sun.
However many years anyone may live,
    let them enjoy them all.
But let them remember the days of darkness,
    for there will be many.
    Everything to come is meaningless.

You who are young, be happy while you are young,
    and let your heart give you joy in the days of your youth.
Follow the ways of your heart
    and whatever your eyes see,
but know that for all these things
    God will bring you into judgment.
10 So then, banish anxiety from your heart
    and cast off the troubles of your body,
    for youth and vigor are meaningless.

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/disappear/

Scripture reference from the New International Version

Autobiography · Brothers · Humor · Memories · Musings · Routines · Short story · We've All Done It

Don’t Make me Bathe!

tub

I passionately despised baths as a little kid. It was the worst thing ever. I went as many days as I could without one and considered each day a great personal victory.

Inevitably, it would fall on my brother Michael to get me into the bathtub.  He would start the day off by saying, “Today you’re taking a bath whether you like it or not.” I would squawk and howl, wounded at the affront, and tear off running. In the course of the day, he would trick or corner me, and frog march me to the tub kicking and screaming. The brouhaha left me mad as a hornet and him, well scratched up.

Yet magically, within a few minutes of being in the nice warm water, I would inevitably think, “I’ll be a monkey’s uncle, I don’t ever want to get out of this bathtub.”

After a few minutes, Mick would repeatedly come to the door, on the assumption that I was done, and say, “You need to get out now.”

It would take another hour of haranguing to match my monkey business and get me out. “Not yet. I’m almost done,” I would say, lunging back and forth and making high waves in the tub, and then return to some really bad singing at the top of my lungs.

Mick would finally say, “I’m not coming back to get you!”

“I’m almost done,” I’d say, a little panicked.

Of course the water would unavoidably get cold and I would sit there shivering, my teeth clattering against each other but still not wanting to get out of the tub. I was confident it was freezing out there. As though that wasn’t bad enough, he unfailingly left my towel clear across the room, at least five feet away and traversing that span would be sure to cause certain death. What to do? I listened expectantly for his approaching footsteps. Nothing.

“Mick?”

Was that him breathing on the other side of the door? “Miiiiiiiiick!” I would holler  after I was done with the next song. No answer.

“Maybe I can just sleep in here…” I reasoned looking around resourcefully.

Then I’d start to get grossed out by the ring of dirt around the tub and any accompanying floaties. I’d try flicking them away while ducking from the ones creeping up behind me. I’d swear I’d never let it get this bad again and that not only would I bathe everyday, but from now on I would be in there for no more than ten minutes. I’d also make a mental note not to drench the towel with all the water I splashed out of the tub.

To my consternation, three days later Mick would be saying to me, “You’re taking a bath today whether you like it or not.”

“Nooooooo…!”

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/assumption/

 

Musings · Nature · Painting · Watercolors

Favorites

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Tulips are my favorite flower. I especially like them dark, enigmatic, orphic.  Though often gorgeous in delicate tones, as I painted this particular arrangement, it materialized in these amazing colors that speak to the bold side of the spirit of the tulip.

Caregiving · God's Will · Musings · Prayer · Scripture

Reconciled

2926846-david-hume-quote-the-heart-of-man-is-made-to-reconcile-the-most.jpg

It happens all the time.

Every time they have a medical visit, I send my residents to the doctor with a list of current medications. The physician is to look at the list, reconcile it with their list, sign it, and return it to me with a note on any changes. I then update my list and have it ready for the next visit. This is particularly imperative when the residents see multiple doctors who are unaware of what medications other doctors are prescribing or discontinuing.

As I sat with my tribe’s prayer circle yesterday, I was praying with numerous ladies who are feeling beat up by life or walking through fire. We’d opened the circle with this wonderful invokation:

       ” …We ask God to give you complete knowledge of his will and to give you spiritual     wisdom and understanding.  Then the way you live will always honor and please the Lord, and your lives will produce every kind of good fruit. All the while, you will grow as you learn to know God better and better.

 We also pray that you will be strengthened with all his glorious power so you will have all the endurance and patience you need. May you be filled with joy, always thanking the Father.”

As we went around the circle covering each other’s upcoming surgeries, sick relatives and friends, stressful life circumstances, etc., it abruptly came into sharp focus for me that we needed to reconcile our requests with the Word. People are sick, fretting, discouraged, panicked. A bromidic “bless brother Bob” prayer will not do. It is shopworn and threadbare at best.

Instead of agonizing over Meg’s daughter’s decision, and attempting to arm-twist her into what Meg wants for her, why don’t we reconcile it to say, “give Stacy complete knowledge of your will as well as spiritual wisdom and understanding.  Then the way she lives will always honor and please you, Lord, and her life will produce every kind of good fruit. All the while, she will grow as she learns to know you better and better.”

In this way we can trust that because we are praying according to God’s will, He who sees what we can’t see (now and in the future), will do whatever is best in ways we can’t anticipate. We can also trust that even if she does wrong, He will use that to grow her in wisdom, understanding, and maturity.

Instead of or in addition to praying, please heal aunt Helen’s cancer, why don’t we reconcile it with the admonition to “have all the endurance and patience she needs, and to be filled with joy and thankfulness?” We can’t go wrong with that, and she probably needs a good dose of it at this tough time.

As the axis who collects the ever changing medication orders for my residents, I most likely have the most current and accurate orders. It’s no slam on the doctors. Unless they are all in one streamlined computerized medical system, they have no other way to keep up.  I have had doctors I had to call back and say, “Dr. Reyes changed the Digoxin dose from 125mcg daily to every 2 days, hold on the 3rd day.”

I have it in writing. I go by the book. If this doctor doesn’t like that order he can change it, or duke it out with Dr. Reyes. It’s my job to make sure our records match. It’s also his job but he only had 7 minutes to see the patient, review her charts, listen to her talk about growing up in Oklahoma, do a physical check of the pain in her gut, and prescribe new meds. Sigh.

  1. We have to constantly update and reconcile orders. If you are not praying scripture for yourself and others, you probably have some orders wrong on your list. Do take a moment today to reconcile them.
  2. What issue can I pray with you about today?

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/abrupt/

image retrieved 5/2/18 from: https://quotefancy.com/quote/1246869/David-Hume-The-heart-of-man-is-made-to-reconcile-the-most-glaring-contradictions

Passage from Colossians 1, New Living Translation.