Bringing things into balance

As many of you know, I've struggled with my weight and my self image for years. It has been a long and arduous journey, to say the least. However, it has been, above all else, a blessed walk toward self acceptance and physical health. The trip is not over, but I can see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.
One of the most frustrating parts of this journey has been a lack of progress physically. Emotionally and spiritually, I'm feeling better than I ever have. Despite the fact I've improved my eating and exercise habits in various ways over the last few years -- my body has not kept up. It's entirely discouraging.
I do not believe in weight loss surgery but in only the rarest of circumstances. I have tried dammed near every weight loss plan, fitness routine and several medications. All with short term losses and long term disappointments -- most often followed by long, long bouts of deep, dark, depressions.
A few months ago, in desperation, I returned to my therapist -- a specialist in eating disorders. She had discharged me several years ago, but it was clear I needed more help. We were making fairly solid progress but I was still feeling lost.
My therapist and I looked into several options, including a stay in a rehab unit. We opted for a check of my hormones. (Rehab is in Arizona -- who the hell wants to be in Arizona in August? Yuck. Plus, being away from my kids 3 weeks or longer doesn't sound like fun..)
So last Friday, I drove to Boise to meet with a women's health specialist. Now, I've read most of the Suzanne Somers books. I watch Oprah. I've heard about this. I've asked my doctors about it with varying, mostly negative results. I come from a long line of women who died of heart disease. Something's got to change physically --
The woman I met with was about my age, I'd guess. Southern accent -- dressed fashionably

. I noticed a Monster energy drink on her desk.
"You're talking to me about health and yet you're drinking that swill?" I asked.
"It's my only vice. I allow my self one once in a while. I've been nursing this one for a day or two now."
Well, good. She's human. Excellent.
She tells me what I already know. Most people are under educated about their hormones; the purpose they serve and what happens when hormones are out of balance.
How do you know if you're out of balance?
Fatigue, weight gain, dry skin and nails, depression, elevated cholesterol, memory loss, decreased concentration... shall I go on?
At this point, I was about to cry. Wasn't she going to tell me I have to lose weight and all those problems would go away? Wasn't she going to scold me? Patronize me? Tell me science doesn't support my belief that something is wrong within me and it may or may not have anything to do with my weight?
"As long as you're out of balance, none of these things will change."
This isn't my first rodeo. I've heard all this before along with "all you'll need to do is purchase $500 worth of vitamins every month and make your weekly appointments and we should have it cleared up in a year or so."
My blood pressure was increasing. Please God -- don't let this be a scam.
So I took the blood test and came back to the office a few hours later for the results.
I've had a full hysterectomy, so I knew there would be some sort of imbalance.
There was.
According to these test results I'm vastly short in 3-different hormone areas. My thyroid in under active. The numbers were so low, she described my current hormone replacement regime as
"Spitting in a bucket."
She suggested trying 4-new therapies in high doses. In 60-days, I'll check back and we'll see how it's going.
Here's what I know so far: I typically feel like I've been drugged by 3p.m. I must take a nap. I haven't needed a nap. I did today, because I didn't sleep well last night because I stayed up late farting around on the Internet. In general, I sleep like a baby.
I have no idea what the next 60-days will bring. I'm terrified, this will be yet again, another load of bull shit.
I figure it can't hurt to try and I'll keep ya'll posted.

Say Cheese!

I had big plans for this post. It was going to include beautiful photos outlining not only the activities for the day, but provide instructions in the event you wanted to duplicate said activities.
Well. Hmmm. How do I say this?
I.
Forgot.
Mostly.
You'll see the ones I remembered to take.
My kids started school today. Did I remember to take the "first day of school pictures?"
Nope.
I had a three-hour lunch with an old friend. It was wonderful. Simply joyful to be in her comfort again. We created a beautiful memory, but it will not be preserved in photos.
Noticing a trend, I decided to make cheese -- since, clearly, no one has had a chance to say "cheese".
I use recipes and supplies from http://www.cheesemaking.com. I found the site while I was trying to figure out how to make cheese. Since I have several thousand dairy cows in the back yard, it makes sense to make cheese, right?
The easiest to make is mozzarella and since I had a pizza date for later in the evening, mozzarella was in order. Again, I had planned a step-by-step instructional post. I forgot to take pictures. Here's one of the curds just as they started to separate from the way.

Homemade mozzarella is delicious. Wrap up a leaf of basil in a little hunk of fresh, still warm cheese -- it's spiritual, really. I had fresh-from-the-garden Roma tomatoes today -- really, there just aren't words.
I whipped up some tomato sauce, using the last jar of tomatoes from last year. Used the whey to make pizza dough then carted it to my friends house 45 minutes south of here in the big ol' city of Twin Falls, Idaho. (Again, I forgot to take pictures.)
My friend Shelley is teaching my daughter, Patti, and I how to make and use pin-hole cameras. First we had to eat. One needs good nutrition for creativity.
We grilled the pizzas and Shelley had made an amazing green salad featuring some heirloom tomatoes so we had quite the feast.
Shelly got started making pin-hole cameras a few years ago after visiting with a particularly inspiring artist. She's done some incredible work with them. Patti and I saw several of her pieces hanging in the coffee shop of the student union building on the College of Southern Idaho campus last summer. We went home and tried to figure out how to do it on our own, but without a good dark room I couldn't figure out how to get it done without making a horrid mess.
I called Shelley, a CSI professor and friend and asked for a lesson. That was in June. Between her schedule and mine, this is the first time we could get together.
Shelley, her daughter Emma, Patti and I gathered around her dining room table and began crafting our pinhole cameras. They were using a cardboard cylinder formally used for containing raisins. Patti and I brought a rather large shoe box.
Since Patti did most of the work, this might have been a good time to take pictures.
I remembered to do a few, but like your instructional cheese recipe, you'll just have to wait for the "how to make a pin-hole camera" post.
We have the cameras constructed, but will wait until we have time next week to shoot and develop the photos. Shelley has dark room in her basement. I'm pretty sure I will be living there sooner than later. I really have always wanted a dark room.
It's a school night, so Patti had a late night -- but it was great fun to spend time with Shelley and learn something new.
We came home and still needed to close up the chicken coops. A mountain lion has been seen in the neighborhood, making doing chores in the dark, well, creepy.
The bonus is I figured out why there were three or four chickens sitting outside the coop when I went to open the doors this morning. I couldn't figure out how this happened because it really appeared to me that all the chickens were on the roost.

Tonight I looked up and saw the hens roosting in the trees.
It would have made a great picture.

Hmmm?

It appears some of you are having difficulty posting comments. I have no idea why. I also can't get any "hot links" to appear.
So please be patient as I try to figure out why it works on every other blog I keep, but not this one.
Grrrr

Have a blueberry, honey..

I found a great deal on a case of blueberries the other day at a farmer's market in Boise. I've been tossing handfuls of the purple treats in about everything. Yummy!

Remember that box of books, "The Complete Book of Small - Batch Preserving" by Ellie Topp and Margaret Howard I told you about? Well, they have bunches of recipes for blueberries, so I tried one today. It did not disappoint.
This book is well worth the investment for those of you who like to can. It has easy canning recipes , plus serving tips and meal suggestions. It is available at Amazon, but I'd also recommend checking out the publisher's web site, http://www.fireflybooks.com. I just requested the entire catalog as they have a good number of books I'd like to check out. Your local library, I'm sure, can get it for you as well.
This afternoon I did 6 1/2 pints of "Spiced Blueberry Honey Jam"

SPICED BLUEBERRY HONEY JAM
2 1/2 cups fresh or frozen coarsely chopped blueberries
2 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1 cup liquid honey
1 TBSP lemon juice
1/2 TSP Ground nutmeg
1 pounce liquid fruit pectin.

Place blueberries, sugar, honey, lemon juice and nutmeg in a large stainless steel or enamel saucepan. Bring to a full boil over high heat and boil hard for 2 minutes, stirring constantly. Remove from heat and stir in pectin. Ladle into hot jars and process for 10 minutes as directed. Don't forget to add your altitude adjustment!!

Kids can easily help with this recipe. My 10-year-old daughter chopped the blueberries and then helped me fill the jars. We share a small corner of our farm with a local bee farmer and he provides us with beautiful raw honey -- as in about 15-20 gallons every year! (I love a good barter). ...

This was simple, quick and the jars look gorgeous!

I can't wait to drizzle it over a scone or spread it over fresh baked bread
Guess you know what I'll be doing tomorrow!

Common sense health advice (Rant warning)

I've been reading The White House Cookbook I told you about the other day.
In the back, there is a section titled, "Health Suggestions".
There is quite an essay about "How Colds are Caught".
"The fact is, and ought to be more generally understood, that nearly every cold is contracted indoors, and is not directly due to the cold outside, but to the heat inside."
I always thought that was true.

Here's one of my favorite sections:

LEANNESS
"Is caused generally by lack of power in the digestive organs to digest and assimilate the fat-producing elements of food. First restore, digestion, take plenty of sleep, drink all the water the stomach will bear in the morning on rising, take moderate exercise in the open air, eat oatmeal cracked wheat, Graham mush, baked sweet apples, roasted and broiled beef; cultivate jolly people, and bathe daily."

I LOVE THAT -- practical, reasonable and you don't need to by $500 worth of magic pills or go to meetings for it to work.

Here's another good one:

HOW TO KEEP WELL

Don't sleep in a draught (I'm guessing that means draft)
Don't go to be with cold feet
Don't stand over hot-air registers
Don't eat what you do not need, just to save it
Don't try to get cool too quickly after exercising
Don't sleep in a room without ventilation of some kind
Don't stuff a cold lest you should be next obliged to starve a fever
Don't sit in a damp or chilly room without a fire
Don't try to get along without flannel underclothing in the winter.

Again, good common sense. I read in a book somewhere that at no other time in our history have we known more about how to take care of ourselves and yet, at no other time in our history have we be LESS healthy. We've put too much attention, I think, on taking care of our outsides, when we should be taking care of our insides.
I had a long conversation with a friend today. She told me how she hides in the house and avoids going out in public because she's too fat. I've been there. I've done that.
Here's what I've learned. Life is too short to live in fear of a negative comment. As much as negative comments hurt, I've found a way to calm that hurt: I live my life.
I stopped hiding. I am who I am. I look how I look. If I just hid I'd miss out on so much. So I jump in with both feet.
I do the things I enjoy with people I love. I eat foods I love and that nourish and strengthen my body.
Have I lost weight? Well, no. I will, when my body catches up to my mind.
In the meantime, I refuse to sell my soul or my health for a pants size. I'm not sedentary. I stay busy and "cultivate jolly people".
I am beautiful because I was created that way and because I have a strong and healthy body, not because I can fit into some piece of trendy clothing. I'm well.
Afterall,some of my favorite underwear is flannel.

Holy cow! Look at this

My friend Claudia sent me an IM tonight regarding the author of my new cookbook and sewing sample collection!

Look at what she found:


That's her! The lady at the estate sale gave me those same dates!

Treasure hunting, treasure making

I was driving through Boise last Friday when a large pink sign jumped out in front of me and forced me to pull into an estate sale.
Clearly, it wasn't my fault. That sign was big and pink, for heaven's sake. What was I supposed to do? Drive past and just ignore it? I think not.
I was looking for an old cake plate, maybe. I'm always on the prowl for hand embroidery supplies. I wasn't going to buy anything more than $20. I was just checking it out for bargains. I DON'T need anything. Right. Right?
The previous owner of the home did a lot of hand weaving. So the first room was filled with lovely fibers. I stood my ground. Didn't buy. The second room was more difficult. Someone in this home collected vintage clothes perhaps? There were lovely dresses, blouses -- clearly hand made by someone who knew what they were doing. Normally, I would have jumped at these pieces -- but I was trying to be fiscally responsible. Stick to the plan.
In the kitchen I found a cake pan. Nice with cover. Little expensive -- so I decided to cart it around a little bit to see how it feels.
It was at this point I walked into the living room. Spread out on a long table were letters and clippings -- a few old photos. The women in this family had quite a history. Leadership -- scholarship -- longevity. I'm always looking for ephemera to work into something -- never know what kind of art I might create here and there.
I found two old books on the table. I had been careful to not look at any of the books in the house -- I'm a junkie for old books and again -- I must stick to the plan.
The first book, had a title page: "Sewing Models with Instruction used by Agricultural College, Logan, Utah, department of Domestic Art, 1905"

Within it's pages, examples of each type of sewing technique -- "basting", "hemming", "darning" -- all with pristine samples of each technique along with a description of how to complete each stitch. WOW. I bet those vintage clothes in the other room were made by this woman. My sister is a seamstress and I know she would love it. Christmas is just around the corner. It's not on my list, but it simply would be a lovely gift. Right?
The next book, dark green, bound in burgundy - was like opening a treasure chest. I'm sure light was reflecting on my face as I opened the cover.

"Kate McDonald 1904-05." - Inside - hand written recipes. Hundreds of them. Tucked in: clippings of recipes. Booklet from an ice cream maker, the 8th grade class song from Salmon Public School (Idaho).
Notes, scribbled on scratch paper.
Receipts from the Agriculture College of Utah. "$3 cooking fee - 1901"
It was beautifully kept. Spectacular. My hands were shaking.

Apparently the woman who kept the book, Kate McDonald, died of tuberculosis a few years after starting the book. Her daughter went on to be a leader in education and live past 100. This estate sale was apparently that of Kate's grand daughter.
It broke my heart to be paging through something that should really be a family treasure -- but families fall apart, bills mount and family heirlooms become added weight to an already heavy burden. And sometimes, a 100+year-old cookbook means nothing.
Perhaps that pink sign was indeed calling me. Maybe the cook book knew it needed to be in the hands of someone who would appreciate it. I'll be cooking my way through it, and yes, I'll journal that here. I also plan to look around and see if I can find any more information about Kate. If she grew up in Salmon, there might be information there -- and a trip to Salmon would be beautiful this time of year.
The day got even better! I stopped by the antique store in Shoshone to show my new treasures off to the store's owners. It was late at night, but their car was still there. They had been out with friends checking out part of the wagon train trail. My plan was to just stop in quickly, but then the trail boss stopped in along with another member of the Cowboy Poetry Gathering committee, Lanita.
I had heard about this woman from a few friends. She was raised near here, but spent most of her life in the Midwest. After retirement, she moved back here and has quickly become an essential part of the community.
She saw me drooling over the cookbook. I wasn't really paying attention, but I did hear her say, "I'll be right back." In the meantime, the trail boss was telling me stories and we were all laughing and getting to know each other. The woman came back with a book in her hands. She showed it to the others and I was continued to take in the stories and the silliness of the evening.
She handed the book to me. "The White house Cook book; cooking, toilet and household recipes" 1887. It is old and well used, but fascinating. It contains instructions for using the cuts of meat on every breed, recipes for sauces custards and for cure for the sick.

I'm fairly sure, for example, I'd feel much better after having "egg gruel".
I'll be cooking my way through it as well.
As if the above mentioned books were not enough, a few weeks ago another box of treasure arrived on my door step. As many of you know I live on a large dairy so each day there are multiple shipments of dairy supplies. Tucked into a pallet of animal pharmaceuticals was a box of canning books. "The Complete Book of Small-Batch Preserving".
There was no shipping information on the boxes or tucked inside. Dairy employees brought the box down to the office and my husband his brothers assumed it was mine as I'm always up to something with canning and they figured I'd ordered the books to sell at a class.
While I certainly might have ordered the book, I doubt I would have ordered a case. I would have also had it sent directly to the house and not dropped off at Barn 4.

There is no way to describe how unique and delicious these recipes sound and look in this book.
I'd like to believe these books ended up in my lap for a reason. Maybe the Universe is trying to tell me something -- that I'm supposed to be in the kitchen creating treasures for my own family? That I need to tell Kate McDonald's story? I need to connect with the publisher of "Small Batch Preserving" in order to find the true owner of these books?
Who knows?
These books are all beautiful and I'll be treating them as treasure -- and in the process -- I'll create some new treasures for my family.

Wagon's Ho!

Sometimes, things just happen for a reason.
No, really.
I have come to believe when you're on the right path, doors just fly open. Most of the time, when I've felt like this, I've just turned around and just walked, no, run away. This time, I'm determined to walk -- maybe even barge -- right through every door.
There is a group of people in town working on getting a Cowboy Poetry Gathering rolling. They kicked off the event last year and had a good turn out. This is the 2nd year and, once again, they're bringing in top names in the business to our town of, what 1500 people? I like Cowboy Poetry, and think it's a good thing for the community, but never got involved with the event.

The other day, my brother-in-law came over about 9:30 at night a dropped a pile of paperwork about the event on my lap. He doesn't do stuff like that very often so I figured I'd pay attention. Turns out, a wagon train is happening to kick off this year's gathering.
"You can help these people," my husband's brother insisted. "They're doing a good thing, but they need your help to get the word out."
I no longer write for the local paper and I wasn't sure what I could do to help this group. But, what the hell? I figured I could check it out.
The next day, I gathered more information. The trail ride would leave the center of town and head north to a ranch about 3 miles from my house. There would be a campfire there, where everyone will eat and circle the wagons for storytelling and supper. The next day--a trip to a local tourist attraction. Then back to town where a square dance will welcome the Cowboy Poets and their fans.
Well, all I could say was, "You had me wagon train."
Then, I started to paniic. What I know about horses would only get me in trouble. I don't own a wagon. How am I going to charge my phone, camera and iPod on the trail?
I figured if it was meant to be, it would work out. Maybe I could "hitch a ride" -- see I'm already using trail humor.
Oh, and there's this pesky little fear of horses I need to handle before the wagons pull out in a month.
The next day, I was chatting with my next door neighbor at the coffee shop where she works. I told her I wanted to go on the ride, but wasn't sure how to make it happen.
"You should talk to my step-dad. He has a wagon and he loves that stuff."
Within seconds of her giving me his number, guess who pulled in the driveway?
I presented my plan to her step-dad, Dick.
He was interested, but had a few questions for the trail boss. Would the fees cover the cost of feeding the horses? Will we be traveling on dirt or pavement? Apparently traveling in a covered wagon with wooden wheels isn't fun when traveling on pavement.
"But don't worry, I have a rubber-wheeled wagon we can pull," he said. "I'll throw a couple of straw bales on the back to sit on and it will be real comfortable."
Three days of riding on a straw bale does not sound comfortable, but what the hell? I'm game. If my great-grandparents could come west on the Oregon Trail, then I could handle 3-days on a straw bale. Maybe.

I tracked down the trail boss. Yes, the cost of feed was included. We would be on dirt trails.
Dick was in. I now had a ride. In a freakin' covered wagon! How cool is that?!
I told the trail boss I'd like to chronicle my ride. Update from the trail. I'd help promote it as much as possible.
I figure I'll post it here and on my Facebook and Twitter accounts. I'll also probably post it at Southern Idaho Living's website.
Tonight I stopped in at the local antique store. (this is where all the cool people hang out around here). While I was there, the trail boss, Lundy, (perfect name for a trail boss) came in.
He was just as interesting as my brother-in-law had described the night he came by to tell me about the wagon ride. Lundy is a kind and generous soul. He values history and hard work. He's a cowboy singer, an artist, teacher and builder. In an hour of discussion I learned the basics of his life story, laughed until my cheeks hurt and he sang two songs.
Perfect.
And here's the most important thing: he's bringing a nifty little gadget on the trail ride -- one that will charge the batteries on all my electronic story telling necessities. Bonus!
So, off I go on this grand adventure and I'll hardly be 10 miles from my home!
Looks like it's meant to be...

The Queen enjoys a good peach

One of the great things about life in the Magic Valley of Southern Idaho is that pretty much everything grows here. I hear about people going on one of the "100 Mile Diets" and have to laugh. Within 100 miles of my house, the only thing I couldn't eat would be citrus and coffee I think.
Along the Snake River, there are 100s of gorgeous orchards. My favorite is Kelley Orchards. I went to school with Jason Kelley and he's since passed away so I shop there for sentimental reasons.
Yesterday I stopped by the Kelley Orchard fruit stand and picked up a box of peaches.
I grew up canning with my step-mother. We made several trips to River Road in Buhl, Idaho each summer where Kelley and the other orchards sold their fruit. We spent summer days peeling peaches and getting them in jars so we could enjoy the summer freshness all year long.
Peaches are easy to can and the rewards are great. Yes, it's a lot of hard work. Yes, you could buy something at the store. I prefer the taste of home-canned produce. It's fresher and it tastes sweeter after all the hard work you've put in!
I'm sort of a canning junkie. I'm a "Master Food Preserver" through the University of Idaho Extension Service. In typical Karma fashion, I probably read more about it than do it. I really enjoy canning and when I do it, I find it very rewarding and peaceful.
I have the luxury of an extra kitchen in an old farm house about a city block in distance from my house. To get started, I fill a water bath canner with water and place 7 clean, empty jars in it. (I use quarts for peaches) This allows you to boil the jars to sterilize them a bit and keeps them hot, which is important.
I have another pot for the hot sugar syrup and one with boiling water for scalding the peaches.
I set up my canning area so I have everything I need within arms reach.

For this process, I follow the recipe in the Ball Blue Book. (It's important to follow updated recipes). I do make one slight change. The recipe calls for slicing the peaches, treating them with an anti-oxidation agent and then draining the peaches.
I don't do that. I slice the peaches directly into the jar and put the anti-oxidation agent in the syrup. I don't drain the peaches. I like the juice.
But more on that in a minute.

To get started, you need to soak the peaches in boiling hot water for about 30 seconds and then plunge them into cold water. That will loosen the skin to the point you can just pull it off with your fingers.(I just give it just a little twist and the skin with come off.) Once the skin is off you can then cut your peaches. My kids love to help with this.

If you're going to cut them all and store them in a bowl until you have enough for your jars, you should treat them with something to prevent them from darkening. I think the easiest is "Fruit Fresh" available at grocery stores. You can crush vitamin C pills (I think that's too much work) or you can use lemon juice. Your canning books should have a recommendation for you.

I slice my peaches directly into the jars. I have a hot sugar syrup (water, sugar) ready and I put the anti-darkening agent in the syrup following the directions on the bottle of Fruit Fresh. I pour the hot syrup over the peaches, again according to the Ball recipe. You have leave a certain amount of head space at the top of the jar in order to get a good seal. Once filled, there are 2-piece canning lids. (Again, follow instructions on the box of lids) It's also important to remove the air bubbles from the jar. Do this with a smooth plastic spatula or something similiar. Do not use metal, it could chip the glass.

I use an old spatula, but they make special bubble-getter thing for canning. I've lost 3 or 4 of them, so I stopped buying them.
Adjust the lids. One of the mistakes people make is over tightening the lids. You tighten to the point of friction and then just a bit more. I set the jars in the canning rack until I have my canner filled.

Once I have my canner loaded, I lower the filled jars into the water. There should be an inch of water over the top of the jars. I wait for the canner to come to a full boil and then I start my timer.

Water boils at different temperatures at higher altitudes. It's important to remember all recipes are written for sea level. So if you don't live at sea level, you have to adjust your canning time. The recipe calls for a 25 minute process for my quarts of peaches and at my altitude I need to add 10 minutes. I realize I'm starting to sound like a broken record here, but again, there are instructions for adjusting processing times in reputable canning books. Follow them.


After the process time ends, turn the heat off and leave the jars alone. Let them sit for a good 5 minutes. (I let them sit a bit longer) After the rest time has elapsed, take the jars carefully out of the canner and set them carefully on a towel. (Don't forget to use your jar grabber -- tongs specially designed for lifting jars) Make sure there no air conditioners or fans blowing directly on the jars. They need to cool down naturally. As they cool, they'll seal. You might even hear a cute little "pop". The lid will suck in toward the fruit and you won't be able to push it down.

If you have a jar that doesn't seal you can re-process immediately or put it in the fridge and enjoy the peaches for dinner.

It's a slow process. My six jars took the better part of 2.5 hours to finish, plus more time for cooling. When I open these peaches in January, those hours won't seem too bad.

Adventures in Karmalot

My Queen name is Queen GivemeBeer. I live in a castle complete with an enchanted forest. I like it people bring me lollipops and I make my own marshmallows.
I'm always late, only moderately organized and am consistently inconsistent.
Join me here as I chronicle my adventures in -- well, just being me. Sometimes, that will mean I share a silly story. Other days I might share a recipe or notes from a road trip. Maybe I'll even turn introspective or write something thought provoking.
If Camelot is that mythical perfect place, then Karmalot is a real place filled with happy and sad, triumph and failure and silliness and stupidity.
Feel free to move into my Queendom for a few minutes each week or so. I have a lovely pub, the Dork and Otter. We serve only my favorite beverages here: beer, Arnold Palmers, beer, Cosmopolitans and Mojitos. Don't like what I have to offer? Bring your own, but you must share as it pleases the Queen.
Silly and preferably large hats are required. I like people that I can burp and fart in front of so feel free to do the same, but for god's sake don't get carried away.
Occasionally, I forget to go to sleep.
I've chosen, after many years of doing the opposite, to accept myself as I am. I am Divine by Design and I think you are too. Let's hang out in Karmalot's Courtyard of Contentment and share a dream or two.