Nothing makes me more aware of my gluten intolerance than traveling. Before it was always, “I’ll pick something up along the way.” In fact, it was part of the fun to try something local. Now, it’s “I’ll pack any food I can think of that will get through airport security.” Once, my bags were weighed down by books, maps, sunscreen, lipgloss and a camera. Now my shoulder aches from carrying around gluten free granola bars, nuts, dried fruit and computer print-outs of restaurants’ menus that offer at least one thing I can safely eat. I had given my GlutenFreed app a test drive in Las Vegas but the options were limited and I was able to find several closer locations through Yelp.
Eating safely is a high priority. Just one bad fry (as I sadly found out) can ruin your plans for that evening. And when you can’t afford to waste a night of your two states in seven days trip it can be the saddest and most stressful thing that can happen... outside of losing your luggage or perhaps not being able to fly because of an active volcano (how crazy is that?)
Despite loving Trader Joe’s and their gluten free-friendly shopping experience, I didn’t really need to see what a store looks like on the West Coast. Nor did I want to leave the strip in Vegas just so I could eat something besides Mexican food. Chipotle’s burrito bowl (which is minus the wrap) has been my favorite gluten-free indulgence since being diagnosed. But it was meant to stay as an indulgence and not become a staple of my vacation diet. It’s not that there aren’t some great West Coast eateries where I, in most cases, overindulged. Pizza Fusion, Sammy’s Woodfired Pizza, Cracked Egg and Hugo’s each had easy to decipher gluten free options on their menus, but I had to start each morning planning my day around my meals. There was no enjoying the delight of finding a cute place in the neighborhood of a museum or, you know, Caesar's Palace. With all the walking that comes with exploring, you earn the right to a little treat between meals, but that treat shouldn't take you off your path. The only fro-yo place that could tell me what was safe for me to eat was Pinkberry – which I quickly grew addicted to; therefore, all my paths had to intersect at a little store that served pomegranate and chocolate swirled goodness.
I will confess I found it very difficult and frustrating, but this trip wasn't about the food, it was about the places. I also know I was lucky I could find food and that my dietiary restriction isn't more severe. Except for one slip up, I was able to have a really enjoyable vacation.
Now, if only they would open more Pinkberry’s on the East Coast.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Seeking Inspiration
Inspiration - isn't that the aim of every writer, whether they work with non-fiction or fiction? It's not just a way to keep the reader turning the page until the final chapter or thinking about the words long after the book is back on the shelf. It's a deeper level of communication, a connection, to have your reader see something from another perspective, to inspire them through your experience or a character's story to look at life in a new way. Whatever the genre - romance, mystery, crime, self-help or even cooking, the writer is morphing the reader's world, changing how they think.
Inspiration can be a tricky thing; it cannot be summoned at will, or even found when sought after. It is a spark of magic that can only be seen by those put under its spell. Perhaps that's why some writing falls flat even though it is structurally sound. It's also why some writing - horribly flawed and clearly the work of a novice - grabs you and doesn't let you go.
I'm looking for inspiration, through reading, through life. It's much easier to know when something is not right - when you feel sick at the thought of work every Sunday night, when your ceiling leaks again and the owner of your building is ineffective, and dare I say incompetent, at having it fixed, when your friends are moving away and you discover you have nothing holding you to where you are. Logic lets you know when things are not right, but it's impossible to know what will be right if you can't see the spark. Without inspiration we're directionless, in the dark.
So you open yourself up in the hope that your vision will clear and you will be hit with the equivalent of Cupid's arrow for your life. While you wait, you read, you try new things and maybe you pray just a little bit in the hope of that moment when against all rationale, you know exactly what you need to do.
Inspiration can be a tricky thing; it cannot be summoned at will, or even found when sought after. It is a spark of magic that can only be seen by those put under its spell. Perhaps that's why some writing falls flat even though it is structurally sound. It's also why some writing - horribly flawed and clearly the work of a novice - grabs you and doesn't let you go.
I'm looking for inspiration, through reading, through life. It's much easier to know when something is not right - when you feel sick at the thought of work every Sunday night, when your ceiling leaks again and the owner of your building is ineffective, and dare I say incompetent, at having it fixed, when your friends are moving away and you discover you have nothing holding you to where you are. Logic lets you know when things are not right, but it's impossible to know what will be right if you can't see the spark. Without inspiration we're directionless, in the dark.
So you open yourself up in the hope that your vision will clear and you will be hit with the equivalent of Cupid's arrow for your life. While you wait, you read, you try new things and maybe you pray just a little bit in the hope of that moment when against all rationale, you know exactly what you need to do.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
The Health Challenge
When my aunts and mother were my age the only health concern they had was pregnancy. In fact, they are (roughly) thirty years older than I am, and they have fewer pills to take each morning than my cousins and I do.
As I sat at a reunion of sorts with my friends from college – some married, some with children, most single – we started talking about the one thing we all have in common: our poor health. We complained about doctors, swapped website addresses that dealt with alternative therapies, and offered suggestions that might, if not cure one another’s ailments, at least alleviate some of the inconvenience. I would like to say that this was one of those conversations where I paused for a moment, turned off the sound of the outside voices and thought to myself, when did I get so old that we talk about doctors in hope and disgust the way we used to talk about boyfriends? “I think he’s the one! My whole life is going to change,” and “He doesn’t listen to me. He thinks it’s all in my head.”
The sad truth is, we’ve been having these conversations since we were nursing our boxed wine and cheap beer hangovers with cold pizza and SpongeBob SquarePants. I can’t help but wonder, is it just that there is more awareness of health issues, better detection and diagnosis now, or is it more than that?
“Our mothers were told not to breastfeed us.”
“Our water is polluted and the air we breathe is full of carcinogens.”
“It’s the chemicals in our food.”
“It’s the chemicals we put on our face and body, trying to stay young on the outside while it makes our insides age faster.”
“It’s our collective karma polluted by a deep disconnection from the earth.”
That last suggestion resulted in a mini-bagel fight, proving that we weren’t aging as fast as we felt. It’s then that I had my pause moment as I pulled my plate off the table to avoid my omelet accidentally getting contaminated. What if I tried to improve it? What if I did my best to somehow fix all the variables that may weaken my immune system?
I can’t go back in time to show my mother the breastfeeding pamphlets that bombard every woman within child-bearing age now, but I could swap out the slew of vitamins I take each day for a well-formulated fruit/veg smoothie. Not to mention perhaps adding some organic produce to my packed lunches. I have a water filter, but it might be worth it to look into an air purifier as well. (A few of my friends were eager to give me their recommendations). I’m already buying organic whenever I can afford it, although apparently there is a hierarchy to the level of importance regarding organic fruit and veg that I need to look up. I think the hardest thing, at least at first, will actually be my makeup and anti-aging ‘magic potions’. I’ve already vetted them for gluten-containing ingredients – forced to say a sad goodbye to my favorite department store glosses & lipsticks. Now I have to go back and eliminate parabens and pegs. At least I know what gluten is; no one could explain what a peg was.
As for the disconnection suggestion, despite the food fight or maybe because of it, I think it may just be the most important one to improve on. After all, why did we react so forcefully if it didn’t hit such a chord?
There is a lot of research and there are many changes ahead of me if I undertake this challenge. But as I learned with boyfriends and doctors, only you change your life, not someone else. And like my group of friends, anything I learn, good or bad, I will share.
As I sat at a reunion of sorts with my friends from college – some married, some with children, most single – we started talking about the one thing we all have in common: our poor health. We complained about doctors, swapped website addresses that dealt with alternative therapies, and offered suggestions that might, if not cure one another’s ailments, at least alleviate some of the inconvenience. I would like to say that this was one of those conversations where I paused for a moment, turned off the sound of the outside voices and thought to myself, when did I get so old that we talk about doctors in hope and disgust the way we used to talk about boyfriends? “I think he’s the one! My whole life is going to change,” and “He doesn’t listen to me. He thinks it’s all in my head.”
The sad truth is, we’ve been having these conversations since we were nursing our boxed wine and cheap beer hangovers with cold pizza and SpongeBob SquarePants. I can’t help but wonder, is it just that there is more awareness of health issues, better detection and diagnosis now, or is it more than that?
“Our mothers were told not to breastfeed us.”
“Our water is polluted and the air we breathe is full of carcinogens.”
“It’s the chemicals in our food.”
“It’s the chemicals we put on our face and body, trying to stay young on the outside while it makes our insides age faster.”
“It’s our collective karma polluted by a deep disconnection from the earth.”
That last suggestion resulted in a mini-bagel fight, proving that we weren’t aging as fast as we felt. It’s then that I had my pause moment as I pulled my plate off the table to avoid my omelet accidentally getting contaminated. What if I tried to improve it? What if I did my best to somehow fix all the variables that may weaken my immune system?
I can’t go back in time to show my mother the breastfeeding pamphlets that bombard every woman within child-bearing age now, but I could swap out the slew of vitamins I take each day for a well-formulated fruit/veg smoothie. Not to mention perhaps adding some organic produce to my packed lunches. I have a water filter, but it might be worth it to look into an air purifier as well. (A few of my friends were eager to give me their recommendations). I’m already buying organic whenever I can afford it, although apparently there is a hierarchy to the level of importance regarding organic fruit and veg that I need to look up. I think the hardest thing, at least at first, will actually be my makeup and anti-aging ‘magic potions’. I’ve already vetted them for gluten-containing ingredients – forced to say a sad goodbye to my favorite department store glosses & lipsticks. Now I have to go back and eliminate parabens and pegs. At least I know what gluten is; no one could explain what a peg was.
As for the disconnection suggestion, despite the food fight or maybe because of it, I think it may just be the most important one to improve on. After all, why did we react so forcefully if it didn’t hit such a chord?
There is a lot of research and there are many changes ahead of me if I undertake this challenge. But as I learned with boyfriends and doctors, only you change your life, not someone else. And like my group of friends, anything I learn, good or bad, I will share.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)