Sunday, June 10, 2012
Gluten Free...
I will admit it...I read a lot of really different books. My wonderfully sensitive little boy is very challenged in some areas, like paying attention and over active social situations. Anyway, one of the books I have been reading discussed going gluten free as an option for helping, I thought about it for awhile, and how my nephew recently went guten free. My sister and I believe that my Dad had some undiagnosed gluten sensitivities, and my cousin was diagnosed with celiacs several years ago. Turning this over and over in my head I realized one thing all these boys shared was a common X chromosome, from my Grandmother. Tracing the genetics isn't what this is about..sorry if I was distracted.
Anyway, after discussing this idea with my husband, Erik, and even Emily, we decided to give gluten free a try this summer. Attempting this while Erik was still in school wasn't much of an option, and with school being close to ending, we decided Summer 2012 would tell the tale. We took an extra week to gear up, but we started this new plan last Monday. Ok, I'll admit I've haven't exactly been 100%. But, I have de-glutened my kitchen and thanks to the fact that my son is marooned at home he has been gluten free for a week.
The week has been a challenge. I'll admit that finding food for an already picky family that loves bread has been difficult. Some of the recipes have been a hit...a lot have been a miss. However, thanks to a little imagination, the boy hasn't been going hungry.
I know it is a little early, but the results seem promising.
Tonight as we got ready for our Sunday family movie night, Erik reminded me, "Mom, you know the rule, no electronic devices during the movie." "I know, I was just looking for a place with a gluten free menu for you, if we wanted to go out to dinner." I said. "Don't you mean gluten free for all of us?" he questioned me. Hmmm...it was a slip he wouldn't have noticed last week.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Faith of a Child
Last week my sister, Nancy, had a Memorial Day BBQ. She made Scott carve watermelons. It was fun and she had invited quite a few people. At the end of the evening we got to talking with the Everetts about some of our memories from running cows up on the Uncompaghre. Then last Sunday the Dederick family took a ride over the Uncompaghre and we stopped at the cabins for a minute. On the very long ride over the mountain I started thinking more about a memory that had been sparked last Monday.
Up until I was about 3 1/2 I had to ride with my Mom on her horse, Prince. Unlike my sister Ellen, I rode in the front of the saddle (and I didn't get a pillow like my cousin Ed). Anyway, one time I remember at the end of the day, we had just finished pushing the herd through a gate and I got to get on with my Dad. My Dad rode a large pie faced gelding, about 17 hands, named Blaze. Blaze was a big strong horse who knew his job, and his job was putting cows where they belong.
So, we had just finished putting the cows through the gate and I got to get on Blaze in front of my Dad. I loved riding on Blaze because he was so much taller than my Mom's, but just as I had gotten settled in, and everyone was taking a breather and getting a drink, and old cow broke back through the fence just up from the gate (that was pretty common when the herd gets mixed up and cows get separated from their calves and try to go back). Immediately Blaze started to go after that old cow through the brush. In one smooth motion my Dad pulled back on Blaze with his left hand and lifted me out of the saddle with his right. I remember hanging there by my wrist while my Dad yelled, "Harriet! Harriet! Come get this kid!" Blaze was trying to get to that cow, and my Mom was trying to get to me. I distinctly remember looking down and seeing those very large hooves churning up that chocolate brown Uncompaghre dirt, then looking parallel at my Mom trying to get her horse over to a dancing Blaze. I'm pretty sure I hung there for at least 6 hours! But one thing I also remember is never looking up to see if my Dad was going to let me go. I knew my Dad would never let me go. There was absolutely no fear, because I had the faith of a child.
Up until I was about 3 1/2 I had to ride with my Mom on her horse, Prince. Unlike my sister Ellen, I rode in the front of the saddle (and I didn't get a pillow like my cousin Ed). Anyway, one time I remember at the end of the day, we had just finished pushing the herd through a gate and I got to get on with my Dad. My Dad rode a large pie faced gelding, about 17 hands, named Blaze. Blaze was a big strong horse who knew his job, and his job was putting cows where they belong.
So, we had just finished putting the cows through the gate and I got to get on Blaze in front of my Dad. I loved riding on Blaze because he was so much taller than my Mom's, but just as I had gotten settled in, and everyone was taking a breather and getting a drink, and old cow broke back through the fence just up from the gate (that was pretty common when the herd gets mixed up and cows get separated from their calves and try to go back). Immediately Blaze started to go after that old cow through the brush. In one smooth motion my Dad pulled back on Blaze with his left hand and lifted me out of the saddle with his right. I remember hanging there by my wrist while my Dad yelled, "Harriet! Harriet! Come get this kid!" Blaze was trying to get to that cow, and my Mom was trying to get to me. I distinctly remember looking down and seeing those very large hooves churning up that chocolate brown Uncompaghre dirt, then looking parallel at my Mom trying to get her horse over to a dancing Blaze. I'm pretty sure I hung there for at least 6 hours! But one thing I also remember is never looking up to see if my Dad was going to let me go. I knew my Dad would never let me go. There was absolutely no fear, because I had the faith of a child.
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