I’ve been bored with my gluten-free diet and all the best laid plans of trying something new were subverted by working a 3pm-11pm work shift. I kept things predictable and easy. But today, I had Tuesday off work and I wanted adventure!
This was my first attempt at gluten-free pizza. It was made easier by the fact I recently re-introduced eggs and dairy to my diet.
This pizza had less than an hour prep and cooking time. I used the Gluten-Free Bisquick Pizza Recipe on the box with organic Canola Oil and local eggs. I topped the pizza with Muir Glen tomato paste, Applegate Natural Pepperoni, and diced red pepper and onions. After some research on my checkbook balance, and mainstream grocery shredded cheeses, I decided on Kraft Mozzarella.
Normally I am a little more of a non-GMO, natural foodie. But a recent dent or two to my budget has me making compromises.
I have to say both Mike and I were happy with this pizza. The crust was light and crisp. It did not fall apart and the taste was good. I would use more sauce in the future.
Next Pizza attempt I want to use a dough that is more whole grain and promise something my co-op friends might enjoy!
30 days Hath November!
Today the golden light played off the willow trees along Highway 41 near Grove Street. The slate sky over the lake, bits of sun dancing like leaves in a brisk wind. I was shopping for the ingredients for my first ever gluten-free pizza.
I tell people living this lifestyle is hard–but I’ve decided to make it artful, creative, and discover new ways of looking at my life. Out with the hard! In with the Play and Discovery!
Abundance and making things happen. All around me have been signs of an abundant life and sometimes I am lucky enough to take notice. Like yesterday when discovered the grapes withering on yellow grape vines in my own backyard. At first, my mind went straight to how we had wasted an opportunity. Then I looked for that unseen benefit and the birds jumping around the yard and I thought my little tweeting friends were happy due to the abundance in our yard. These grapes would keep songbirds happy and well-nourished. And the textures and color opened my eyes, brought me to a pause and centered me.
River sitting, a new pastime. Saturday I attended the Farmer’s Market and bought potato soup from Dancing Crane Cafe. I took my tiny carton of soup out to the woods at Songbird trail and sat in a third world crouch, back up against a tree, camera slung over my shoulder, sipping soup and watching water flow. I could hear the roar of the waves at the delta. Lake Superior was a force. She was making herself hear. But I took refuge under pine. Wintergreen with red berries hinted of winter. It was Devil’s Night. Michael’s Birthday. I was coming to terms with working a weekend, working the 3pm to 11pm shift, missing Michael’s Birthday, missing Halloween and my Grandson, missing Mike.
I looked at my refection in the water and I thought it is a good time for change, my body is healing from Celiac, and I now have the strength to move forward. The sky is not always blue like on this Monday morning where I write from the sofa in my living room. Some days are gray and raining drops fall on the river. But we have soup. We can create and choose inner warmth and we can still appreciate the day. These are the steps I am taking. This is the courage to change.
This morning the frost on the coal piles at the Shiras Steam Plant looked like snow. Could the frost really be that thick?
“People ask where do you live. I bet it’s beautiful,” they say.
I Live in South Marquette up the hill from Lake Superior. I have an almost romantic view if you hold up your right hand, squint and block out the power plant.
When students realize I walked to school in order to sub-teach they ask, “Where do you live?
Less than 10 minutes away.
They ask, “In the rich area?”
This was about 2 weeks ago and we were having some class discussion on the lack of sidewalks in this neighborhood. How walking in the dark before school is dangerous and how people are in such a hurry with cars they don’t even bother to look for skateboarders, walkers, and people on bikes.
But we do value our bikes in Marquette.
And I’m glad for the paths I walked on this morning as I hoofed to Michigan Works and a training recertification.
But I arrive and find out I was sent to a training that happens next week and I am out 8 hours of pay for today. So I make lemonade, or applesauce, it is fall. I sit my butt in a chair, wait for my boss to pick-up her phone and start looking for that next job.
I think me like unsweetened applesauce, chucky, with cinnamon and that apple orchard taste of the cider mills in northern Oakland County. I am thinking Yates. I am thinking hayrides. I am thinking of crisp walks and the crunch of leaves. But this is the Upper Peninsula and here we have no cider mills, just corn mazes and it’s no wonder I look for work so often.
I’ve renewed my commitment to walking and reducing my carbon footprint. It’s a commitment that fuels my art in such green ways. It is awesome to be blooming when the leaves get crunchy. Juxtapositioned, I am.
Pockets empty and light –abundance can fill me up—I’m ready.
Apples still hang from every tree even though the limbs are bare. Orbs. Rotting. Shrinking. Waiting for the bear on his journey to winter. We all have our journeys and the trip isn’t cold if you jog the path. I am speeding toward my next stop. I am sure with all this walking and running I will arrive breathless and with rose-apple cheeks.
I was on the run yesterday, Monday. Literally, running with early morning appointments, a run after work, a meeting to 9pm and running cross-town home. I never took the clothes off the line on Sunday. I hung them at 2pm on a day, cooling fast. But the dryer was not cooperating.
These photos were taken Tuesday morning. Chill. Somewhere around 28 degrees. I left them to thaw and arrived home tonight after dark. Yes, they are off the line. Still damp.
Fall leaves me short on time too often.
You can view these images (full size) and more of my Art Every Day set at Flickr.
It gets dark very early, now! Darn the time change this weekend. I had mere minutes to snap photos on my way home. Teal Lake was rough and snow clouds were blowing in. The sun was dipping fast behind the Negaunee hills. My hands were chapped and beet red before I returned to my warm car. I had to let them thaw out with heat blasting before I could drive and I was only out in the wind a short while. In my fumbling with numb fingers I changed the settings on my camera to only 640 x 480 drat! Mistakes happen to all photographers.
To Do List:
- NaNoWriMo–Write 50,000 words in the month of November.
- Art Every Day Month–Create art every day this month.
- Great Race @ YMCA–Log 300 minutes of exercise each week for 8 weeks.
- Holistic Health Fair–Prepare presentation and display for Saturday November 7.
- Turkey Trot 10k–Train for race on Thanksgiving morning.
Today my art for Art Every Day Month came easy. I took photos before my run this morning. It was a beautiful cold morning with clouds clearing to sun. I came across a tree that has been very creative. It had formed a tight bundle of growth, like a nest. Does anyone know why trees do this?
Like this tree I am trying to create something and make it grow very green and thrive. I am inviting change into my life. I am forming the habits that a creative entrepeneur needs. I am committing to huge acts of creation over the month of November. Let’s take a closer look at that tight bundle in the tree, eh?
If you are taking part with NaNoWriMo I am “CreatewithKim” and I am part of the United States–Michigan–Marquette and the UP, Region.
I am finding my focus too narrow, projects fall to the wayside, and I need to spurn my growth beyond the lines. Be on the Verge! Stretch past the Contoursof who I am and reach toward who I long to be. Tonight’s project was a regroup. playing with markers I took a look at what I might want to do for the coming months. I am not locking myself into this schedule–it is a guide–an inspiration. Tomorrow I might do a word bubble.
It was so good to have a whole day off work. To watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade brought a bit of melancholy as I remember the excitement my children had as they watched each year. Traditions have gotten a bit lost.
To keep upbeat, I worked on my new blog A Winter Journal, Notes from the Upper Peninsula. I made a post and then added webcams links and other links to help people understand the wintry place in which I live. I am going to like this blog, especially once I catch a sunny day to take photos on, or a day when I have freedom while the sun shines (seems I am working more than usual).
I am also starting research for an article on Seasonal Affective Disorder. I am going to focus on natural and organic approaches to fight the affects of S.A.D., perhaps looking at diet adaptations in societies that function in low light for extended periods of the year.
As artists and writers, how do you motivate yourself in winter? During the Holidays?
It’s all very strange, each year I get a bit older. I end up working with women who were once in my Junior Girl Scout Troop or working along side students I have had in class. This January I will be forty-five years old. I am a mother of three wonderful adult children and grandmother to two.
I live my life very open and it sounds cliché but I tell everyone I am an open book, everyone knows my life. But, I am becoming more cognizant of the secrets I do have. There are simple statements of joy that I repress as they may cause others pain. So in the respect of those people I keep silent.
That silence reminds me of the days of abuse. My life prior to becoming an adult was a life of fear. I was a runaway to avoid my own home. I did not tell teachers, law enforcement, or counselors of that abuse until I was safely beyond the abuse. I dealt with the truths of my childhood years later after having children of my own.
So, yesterday, I was asked where a woman could turn to for help–No insurance–Not on welfare–But in need of counseling. I thought of the weekly headlines announcing cuts to mental health services in Marquette and Alger County and I knew that odds of finding services were very slim. I had to give some hope so I suggested the Women’s Center.
As my hands age, lines become deeper. As my hair grays, and wrinkles around my eyes fan out, they suggest wisdom. As I enter the next phase of my life, I am getting more outspoken of secrets. I don’t want to live contrary to my own cliché, “My life is an open book.”
This has been a year of taking photos, and in many ways photography is easier as my writing has always been a bit autobiographical whether poetry, fiction, or memoir. Even non-fiction articles have a strong “I voice.” The words that would rise to the surface felt like words I could not say, write, or share. I avoided my writing. I picked up a camera.
In the coming year I will write more. It is not that I regret picking up a camera-I love digital photography and I will be pursuing that strongly, too. But it is time to return to the page.