Category: gluten free

Short-Staffed and Suds-Obsessed

There is a saying that in life there are no second chances. Luckily, in soap, there are.

I started making soap not so long ago. I never intended to be one of those “crafty” people who makes their own lotions at home; I became one of these soap people quite by accident.

For the last eight months, I’ve worked 12–14 days in a row without a break. Between extreme timelines, a gazillion events, and being short-staffed, I was working with no tomorrow, no extra pay, and no vacation time. I burned out. I was overly stressed and ready to quit without a second thought.

Around that time, a friend hosted a Galentine’s decoupage party. Newsflash: I hate decoupage. Peeling napkins, cutting tiny shapes, and gluing them onto things only made me more annoyed. But that’s when I realized I needed a hobby—something to relax and center me again.

I tried several things, including soap making. I bought a simple kit online and my first attempt was a complete failure. Yet, something in the process made me want to try again. It might have been my brain remembering the chemistry set my parents gave me as a teenager—a set I absolutely loved.

I was hooked. It created a monster.

Now, I’m constantly trying new scents, watching tutorials, and finding creative ways to make beautiful bars. I even keep a notebook next to my bed in case an idea strikes in the middle of the night. I’m by no means an expert, but I am enjoying every moment of the process—even the failures.

With soap, if it doesn’t come out the way you wanted the first time, you get that second chance. You just melt it down and try to create something new and improved.

It might be true that in life there are no second chances—but what if, like soap, we just need to be willing to melt things down and start over?

Confessions of a 58 year old pirate!

At the ripe old age of 58, I finally achieved my goal of becoming a pirate.

Not the sea-faring, world-traveling kind. Not the eye-patch version — my eyesight is still fine. Not the wooden-leg type either, although I did break my leg a couple of years ago.

No, I’m the scurvy kind.

Yes. Apparently my vitamin C levels are low.

I take a GLP-1 medication to control my insulin levels. I should also be following a healthy diet. But me being me — which apparently means modern-day pirate — I don’t.

I forget to eat.

It’s a problem I’ve always had, even before the GLP injections. Being hypoglycemic never helped. The GLP-1 just made it worse.

And if you think forgetting to eat sounds like a good thing — it isn’t. I get severe stomach acid, my blood sugar goes wild, and I feel nauseous all day.

You would think being an adult and a mother I’d know better.

I do know better.

I just don’t follow my own advice.

When I started bruising easily and healing slowly, I finally spoke to my endocrinologist. Now I drink half a glass of orange juice a day and take supplements.

So pirate it is — at least until my levels are back to normal.

The upside? I don’t need to choose a costume for the next party.

It’s built in.

Sobriety Checkpoints and the Curse of an Honest Face

I was stopped at a sobriety checkpoint last night on my way home from an office party.

The officer asked where I was coming from and whether I’d been drinking. I said no. He looked at my face for a beat, smiled, and said, “I believe you. You can go.”

I hadn’t been drinking. I don’t drink alcohol at all. My gastroenterologist suspects I have an alcohol intolerance—alcohol destroys my stomach—and being on a GLP-1 injection only makes the effects worse. So the answer was honest, but the instant acceptance still surprised me.

I found the whole interaction oddly amusing. There were signs well before the stop announcing the checkpoint, so anyone who had been drinking already knew how to avoid the area. Which made me wonder: what was it about my face that made him decide not to look any further?

The amused expression, maybe. It’s gotten me into trouble before. I was once dismissed from jury duty because I apparently failed to conceal my opinion that the defense attorney was an idiot. I forgot my poker face that day.

Gemini says I have an “infectious glow.” My daughter thinks that might be true. I call bullshit.

I thanked the officer and drove on, still amused—once again reminded that my face has a habit of telling the truth before I do.

When My Husband Asked: What’s Wrong with Gluten?

I was asked the most bizarre question today by the Passenger Prince.
He asked me, “What’s the problem with gluten?”

In a regular household, this question might not seem strange. But in our house—where three of us have Celiac disease—it was downright shocking.

I, the Passenger Prince’s wife, was diagnosed when I was thirty-nine, almost twenty years ago. Two out of our three kids received the lovely Celiac gene as well.

I was driving the Prince to work when he asked me this question, and I almost stopped the car in astonishment.

The man saw what I went through before I was diagnosed. He saw our daughter’s health deteriorate until she was a shadow of herself. And yet, he still asked that question.

After I collected myself for a mini second, I asked him where this was coming from. Apparently, Dr. Google had suggested that going gluten-free could help with seizures.

As much as I appreciate Dr. Google’s extensive medical training, I told him he should talk to a neurologist—or at least a nutritionist.

I’ve been gluten-free for many, many years now. But every once in a while, I miss a normal-sized slice of bread, good pasta, and the freedom of eating anywhere without reading labels or worrying about cross-contamination. I still get excited when I discover new gluten-free pizza options at Costco.

So back to his “silly” question: Gluten is great—very tasty, even. But for us Celiacs, gluten is the enemy and even after twenty years gluten-free, the learning never ends — especially in our house.

The Sounds We Forget to Hear

The Sounds We Forget to Hear

Hearing is something most of us take for granted. We rarely pause to notice the sounds that surround us—the rustle of leaves, the hum of traffic, the laughter of children. Instead, we walk through life plugged into headphones, filling every moment with music, podcasts, or phone calls. We wear them when we walk, talk, commute, and definitely when we exercise.

This week, my youngest made crème brûlée. She’s been perfecting her recipes lately and this time offered dairy-free, vegan, and lactose-free options. In our household, that’s not just a nice gesture—it’s a necessity. We are a home full of celiacs, lactose-free lifestyles, and IBS sufferers. My children, poor things, didn’t need a genetic test to prove maternity—they inherited all my “fun” genes: the celiac gene, the IBS gene, and definitely the lactose intolerance gene.

But here’s the moment that gave me pause: as she torched the sugar on top of the crème brûlée, I heard it. The delicate, satisfying crackle of caramelizing sugar. That beautiful, subtle sound was only possible for me to enjoy because I had my hearing aids in. Without them, I’d have missed it entirely. That tiny moment of joy made me think about how much we miss when we don’t stop and really listen.

Take Charlie, our neighborhood squirrel. Charlie is something of a local character—and a sworn enemy of our dogs. (They’re terriers. It’s instinct.) Charlie, bold as ever, hisses at them from his perch on the tree. Every time he does it and I actually hear it, I can’t help but laugh. It’s such a strange, small sound—one I never noticed before hearing aids. But now I hear it, and every time I do, I’m delighted.

When I was younger, my mother used to warn me: “Don’t listen to music so loud—you’ll ruin your hearing!” I wish that was the reason I have hearing loss. But for me, it’s just part of the hand I was dealt.

I remember the day I got my first hearing aids. My audiologist looked at me and said, “Just a heads-up—the world is loud.” She wasn’t wrong. It is loud. But it’s also incredible. Hearing the world—even when it’s loud—is a gift.

So if you can hear the birds in the morning, the hiss of a squirrel, or the crackle of sugar on a homemade dessert—pause for a moment. Take your headphones off. Listen. The world has so much to say, and it’s worth hearing.

“Stress, Guests, and Cinnamon Rolls

Some people are stress eaters. I, on the other hand, am a stress baker.
 When I get really, really stressed—I bake.
Unfortunately for me, I also eat what I bake. And I only bake things I like—like cinnamon rolls and banana bread. (Yes, I baked them even before the pandemic!)

I’ve always been a baker, but when I was diagnosed with celiac disease and had to go gluten-free 20 years ago, I had to change my recipes. I had to adapt to different flours to get the same taste my brain remembered. Luckily, I’ve adjusted. Unluckily, I still eat what I bake.

This past weekend, my daughter got married. It was stressful—but manageable. The family and guests that came with it? Less manageable and much more stressful.

I always have expectations about people’s behavior—maybe because I know how I behave as a guest. And in my foolish optimism, I expect the same from others. I’m usually wrong. But we’re only responsible for our own actions—and that’s where the stress comes in.

It’s stressful enough dealing with all that, but then all the flights back to my guests’ home country got canceled. So now, it looks like I’ll be hosting people longer than I expected—while also going to work, managing expectations, entertaining guests, handling stressed dogs, and just trying to return to my regular routine.

So: stress baking.
I’m writing this while my dough is rising, and I’ll be putting my gluten-free cinnamon rolls in the oven soon. Hoping the smell of cinnamon will calm my nerves.

(Recipe: Ultimate Cinnamon Rolls from Pamela’s Products, for the curious minds.)

Gravity, Weight Loss, and a Really Good Bra

Weight loss is a funny thing, but then again, so is gravity. As we get older, gravity becomes even funnier. Our skin loses its elasticity, our asses start to sag, and if we have tattoos, they begin shifting like the continents. Those perky 90-degree boobs start to resemble a geometric puzzle.

I often joke that one way to combat that is by tying my boobs to my ass, thinking it might create some equilibrium. Alas, I digress.

When you combine aging with weight loss, gravity plays an even bigger role. I’ve lost 30 pounds this past year (yes, I’m on Wegovy), but no, it wasn’t done out of vanity. I have several autoimmune diseases that took a toll on my body. After the weight loss, my blood tests and heart tests are looking better, and surprisingly, even my IBS has improved. All my doctors are happy, and let’s be honest, I live to make my doctors happy.

The 30 pounds are quite noticeable on my five-foot-nothing frame, and gravity noticed it too. Last weekend, I ran into an acquaintance I hadn’t seen in a while. She commented on my weight loss, but instead of saying, “You look great!” she said, “I can tell you lost weight because your boobs are saggy.” I started laughing—not from embarrassment, but because I found it funny.

This acquaintance had a breast reduction, so she’s very observant about other people’s breasts. I think we tend to judge or observe others based on the things we’re most unhappy about, and that impacts how we see people and life in general. She didn’t mean to be rude, and I don’t think she even realized it was.

Yes, gravity has taken its toll on my body, and weight loss has combined with it in ways that aren’t exactly fun. But I accept it with grace—and a really good bra.

#WeightLossJourney #GravityGotMe #BoobsAndButt #AgingGracefully

#WegovyJourney #WeightLossRealTalk #EmbraceTheSag #TalesOfGravity

#BodyPositiveHumor #AcceptanceAndHumor #AutoimmuneAwareness

#LaughingThroughLife #PerkyToPuzzled #SaggyButHappy

Bread Trucks and Blood Pressure: Finding Humor in Life’s Challenges

funny. You see, I’m a Celiac — I can’t eat gluten because of an autoimmune disease. I was diagnosed with it as a “birthday gift” on my 39th birthday, and as a former carb-lover, giving up bread and pasta wasn’t easy. Back in the day, gluten-free options were hard to come by and, frankly, not very tasty. And, let’s be honest, gluten-free bread is still the size of a postage stamp.

Life these days is hectic, crazy, and sometimes full of stress. Lately, work has only made it worse. My cardiologist told me I need to lower my blood pressure. I asked him how to do that when people around me constantly annoy me and drive me crazy. I’m still waiting for a solid answer to that question.

I try not to take everything too seriously — not because I think life is a joke, but because we’re all dealing with serious things. We need to find humor in what surrounds us. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to help much with my blood pressure.

Losing my hearing was tough. I went through the stages of grief because losing such an important sense impacts my quality of life and everyday well-being. But five years later, when people ask how it affects me, I joke that it’s actually a blessing for my husband — I don’t hear any of his annoying remarks anymore.

So, having a bread truck full of gluten following me around was pretty funny. Who knows, maybe it’ll even show up in my dreams tonight.

#GlutenFreeHumor #CeliacLife #FindingTheFunny #LaughThroughTheStruggles
#CeliacWarrior #HealthWithHumor #BreadTruckChronicles #AutoimmuneLife #GlutenFreeJourney #StressAndLaughter

The weird things I like to read in my local newspaper

My local newspaper publishes a  list of restaurants that have had health violations the previous week, each week I think to myself do I check the list or do I not. Do I really want to know? And yet every week I go to that list and read it, hoping and praying that I did not go to any of these places. It’s like a traffic accident that you see is about to happen and you can’t turn your head to avoid looking. 

There really is no point in reading  that a restaurant I went to last week or two weeks ago had a cockroach infestation or no sufficient hot water and yet I still read it. Maybe its a form of self torture, who knows.

There usually have some normal and reasonable closures, but when it said the closed CVS and only allowed prepacked foods at this particular CVS I started to wonder what exactly they sell, we have several CVS’s close by and none of them sell fresh food or ice cream. So I went to the official county website to see if there is any further information but alas there is none.

What should we do with the information about health department closures,do I go to a place that was cited and closed with the belief that it is cleaner now, with immodium in my purse just in case or do I avoid going to a place I like as they frequently have issues. This is going to be a tough decision!

QA and Mishaps

I recently ordered a big bag of flour from a manufacturer that I ordered in the past. I got my box delivered, but instead of getting four 4lb’s of gluten free flour I received 4 O Cedar mops. I have nothing against mops or O Cedar, but this obviously  is not what I ordered. Turns out that the manufacturer uses a 3rd party for fulfillment, and this fulfillment company has no quality measures. The box I received said it contained my flour and that the box weighs 18 lbs, but I managed to pick up this box with one hand and despite lifting weights at the gym, this was not the case, the box could not have weighed more than half a pound at most. So not only did the fulfillment company not have QA that checks the label description of containment with what they put inside. They also do not check shipping on the fulfillment side or from the  UPS side.

So now we have 3 companies with no QA and mistake upon mistake as someone definitely paid expensive shipping costs for nothing.

Beyond all these obvious mistakes and lack of QA, everyone has an upset customer. I was really waiting to bake and now I am upset. I immediately contacted the manufacturing company and they responded immediately and issued me an apology and a refund, but alas I am still without my flour. So despite customer service actually doing good I am still left feeling cheated, unhappy and flourless!