Day 17: Nitty Gritty Dirt Blog

One of my all-time best friends emailed me today:

"Ok, so give me an update. And I'm not talking about the censored version that's in your blog. I want the nitty gritty, dirty reality!"

Well, I thought I was doing pretty good in the honesty and openness department. But, I know when I read "Animal Vegetable Miracle," by Barbara Kingsolver about her family's quest to eat only what they could grow themselves or buy locally from farmers they knew, I felt like I wanted the whole story. Like there must be something she's not telling us. I kept waiting for the undoing.

Oh no. You are not waiting for my undoing... right? Right?! Okay. You are. It's okay. I understand. I suppose we all want to see the train wreck sometimes. You sickos. But you're going to be disappointed.

So, for you, my friend, and for everyone else, here it is. The nitty gritty dirty reality.

I wake up, and I want to throw up at the sight of another apple and handful of almonds for breakfast. I put my nose so close to my children's bowls of Fruity Cheerios that I probably absorb some sugar through my nostrils. I eat my... "breakfast" and begrudgingly admit that an apple is one of God's most delicious creations. And then realize that I'm probably going to need another TMJ surgery after eating almonds and apples for breakfast for 40 days.

Lunch time rolls around and I fix PB&Js, carrots, string cheese and juice for the kids, and have to fight the urge to lick the PB&J knife. I mean, really, PB&J? It's sandwich awesomeness. But I resist. Confession coming in 3... 2... 1... I robotically popped a baby carrot in my mouth the other day. I was on like the fourth crunch when my mouth finally sent messages to my brain. NEW FOOD ALERT! NEW FOOD ALERT! So I stopped, mouth half open, walked to the trash can and spit out the carrot. And then choked back a silent cry. Over a carrot. Sad. So every day, I scoop out one cup of my precooked brown rice (I cook it a bag at a time), and pile some edamame on top. One minute in the microwave.

This meal always trips me out for some reason. I put a bite in my mouth. I look down to make sure it's my Pick Five food -- (This is a new development. Everything goes through the wait-am-I-eating-the-right-thing-here-or-have-I-totally-lost-it-and-accidently-shoved-a-donut-in-my-mouth filter.) -- Then I eat. I eat the edamame first, because... well... I haven't quite recovered from the whole I Hate Edamame thing. I am not choking it down anymore, but let's just say that by the time this whole thing is done, I better be able to speak Japanese for all the edamame I've eaten. Then, the rice. I am so not sick of brown rice. I love it. I would eat it in a boat. And I would eat it with a goat. And I would eat it in the rain. And in the dark. And on a train. And in a car. And in a tree. It is so good, so good you see! (Really. I love it. No, seriously.)

Afternoons usually bring another half an apple and handful of almonds along with a tank of water. It's Texas. And it's brutal. I dream of Sonic slushes and iced mochas. But, not for too long. Discipline is knowing how to stop entertaining temptation.

Then, I make dinner. I think it's God's timing that my husband is working the night shift right now. I only have to cook the "real" dinners for him a couple of nights a week. For the kids, I end up just balancing their plate with a protein, one or two vegetables, a complex carb and a glass of milk. Sometimes it's pretty motley, like some chicken, leftover spaghetti and a pile of peas. But they don't seem to mind. I sit down with them, and eat my rice and edamame. (Rinse, repeat.) My kids know not to say, "Is this it?" when I put their plate in front of them. They haven't fully connected it to my rants about children in other countries and even a few kids here in Austin who don't have enough to eat, but they sure know that they have to go to their rooms for a couple of minutes if they say it, and they want to avoid that. It's a start.

But then, after they go to bed, I break out the goods. Oh yeah. I open the freezer, get out my bowl and spoon, and my mouth already begins to water. I start to think about this time of day at around 3 in the afternoon. I look forward to it. Nobody's around. And I get to enjoy my daily delicious bowl of... chopped spinach. What? What did you think I was going to say? I swear to you, this is heaven. I love spinach. And it just melts like butter on my tongue. Oh, butter. I miss butter. Spinach would be so good with butter. Focus. Focus.

It's weird, because in the evenings I always used to watch TV and eat during EVERY COMMERCIAL. Something salty like cheese or buttered bread. Then, something sweet like saltwater taffy. (That has 'salt' in it. But it's sweet. Funny.) Salty, sweet, salty sweet. It went on for hours. But I'm not really watching TV anymore. It's like one went with the other. Hmm.

Then, I go to bed and start over. I can compare this whole Pick Five time to when I was pregnant (40 WEEKS, not days). I used to have quick little freak outs. Get out of there. Get out of my skin. Out of my belly! But then I calmed myself down and reminded myself that I was in it for the long haul. I prayed for God's patience in place of my impatience. It worked then, and it's working now.

The hardest times, when I want to crawl into a hole and cry, have been when I am in the company of other people who are eating delicious food. This is hard. I've managed to blend in pretty good, and try not to cause any vexation to the omnivores. But then I get in my car, have a quick and silent pity party, and try my best to pay attention to what I'm supposed to be learning from the experience. This is where I know God meets me. These times, I know, will make a difference in my life.

Over all, I am at peace. I know that it's not over until it's over. I know that there is much more ahead. I'm right smack in the middle of it, and I'm trying not to plan out what I'm going to eat on day 41. (Except for coffee. I'll be setting the timer on my coffee maker.) I'll save thoughts about other food for the last couple of days. I can't go there yet. I don't know what's next when this is all done. Day by day. Breathe in, breathe out. Brown rice, edamame, spinach, apples and almonds. And the hand of the Lord to sustain me.

(Picture: Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. "Down by the river in the full moon light, we'll be fallin' in love in the middle of the night, just moving slow..." Thanks to Tom for gifting this song to my sister when I was an impressionable 13 years old. Good tune.)