No Wire Hangers

Moving sucks. There are no two ways about it, moving is the worst, most horrific experience outside of being eaten alive by mutant beetles. The never ending cycle of sorting and packing and cleaning and red tape and emails and goodbyes is like giving birth for a month straight. It sucks. People who claim that they love moving are either soft in the head, or liars.

The worst part is the cleaning....

The cleaning, oh the cleaning, it might be the death of me. Now, I run a fairly tight ship here at Chez Lyons. I like a clean house. I don't think I am, normally, insane about this but then again, I don't live with myself. My kid once drew a picture of me. In it, I was vacuuming while wearing jeans and high heels. There was a table in the background with a glass of wine and a laptop on it. If there was a Hashtag 'NAILED IT' moment, that would be it. However, maintaining the level of clean that our house needs to have for this move is beyond overwhelming.

Did you ever see the movie 'Mommy Dearest'? Joan Crawford is depicted in this iconic peep into the mind of the famously crazy.  People quote this movie when they want to share the idea of a controlling, mental, should be locked in a white padded room, detailed level of crazy.

"NO WIRE HANGERS!" Joan yells while she beats a little blond girl in hair rags and pink pyjamas.

Except for the mental, physical, and emotional abuse, fancy mansion, long legs and rampant quaalude use...this is me this week.

Sadly, and I'm not proud to say this, I caught myself hollering, "I'm not mad at you! I'm mad at the dirt!" the other day, which is literally a line from the movie. It was awful. But, things have to be perfect, so the kids are stuck with a watered down, less violent Joan Crawford for a few more days.

You know what isn't perfect? Our food choices. Oh good lord, I think my children may have dangerously high levels of cholesterol by the end of it all. We have to eat out, a lot. There is no point in shopping for a bunch of food that we aren't going to finish by the time we leave. Also, I don't want anyone to cook anything that would mess up the kitchen. Trev tried to use the oven the other day and I leapt at him with a Spartacus level of rage. Make bacon? Are you insane? Did you polish the toaster and clean out the crumbs with a toothbrush? No? Is there a butler around that I didn't know existed? I can tell you that it is very difficult to make lunch out of icing sugar, relish and sunflower seeds.

 Dinner decisions are based on speed and cleanliness, not nutrition, and if my kids don't have scurvy by next week, I will be shocked.

My Celiacs has suffered as well. I have not been kind to my gut as of late. I am eating a lot of crap, like frozen gf meals and preserved food. Remember, just because something is gluten free, that doesn't make it good for you. A TV dinner is a TV dinner and food that has a long shelf life, has a lot of stuff in it to make that happen. Stuff that isn't necessarily good for you. Don't eat it everyday because it will rot at your insides. But right now, I don't have a choice and convenience simply must take precedence over subsidence. And you know what? That's okay. I've said it before and I will keep saying it because it appears as though some of you aren't listening.

Mommy Guilt has no place at the table.

Feed your family the best you can today and get over it.

If my house has to be perfect, nothing else can be. So my kids ate pancakes from McDonalds the other day. Did you feel that? Did you sense the judgment coming from other readers? Notice that I said other readers, not you, oh no, you would never judge me for feeding my spawn McDonalds would you? Never.

The kids  were also sent to the store with three bucks each so I could clean behind the couches in peace and they came home with nothing but gummy candies in strangely phallic shapes dipped in salt or sugar or formaldehyde. I don't know, I don't care. I just needed to clean under the couches....again.

Our adventure is officially underway and with any luck, a vegetable might find it's way into our mouths on the way to Halifax. If not, that's okay. I still have wine and the kids have discovered that Cheetos have protein in them. Hashtag, Nailed It.

I gotta go clean something with a toothpick now....

A Freaking Celiac in Atlantic Canada

Life is a messy business. If you are doing it right, your life should not be boring. That's just the way I like it. I panic at boring. I can't do monotony, I don't know how anyone could. I like the chaos and the last minute crazy that happens to me all the time. Not drama, I don't do drama. Keep your passive aggressive, gossip whispering OMGs to yourselves.

However, I will always embrace the change and the flux of a well embraced life.

My husband, has accepted a transfer to the City of Halifax for one year starting in September. For those of you who aren't Canadian, which more and more of my readers everyday are not ( step it up Canada seriously) it's the same as moving from Montana to Maine or Moscow to Khabarovsk (can I google or what bitches? Могу ли я таращить карту или что суки?)

Halifax is far from Calgary (about a 5 day drive going balls to walls), but it's not the other side of the world. Our two cities are very different in industry and size and I am really excited to have the spawn experience something new. When his company first came to us with this idea, I screamed 'YES'! I love stuff like this. I love shaking life up. However, shaking your life up comes with a lot of shit along with it.

Such as?

-  A To Do List that is taller than my body

 - A house to pack up and feeling like I'm on an episode of Hoarders. "We are all just five bad decisions away from shitting in a bucket." Cory Chalmers, Hoarders. Make the right call people, seventeen chafing dishes is seventeen too many.

 - Mail forwarding, which is a huge pain in the ass -would we expect anything less from the postal service? I might have to train some pigeons or pony expresses or whatever can get my monthly subscription of  'US' Magazine to me. Gotta keep up with those Kardashians (that was a joke -don't stop reading my blog and throw rotten lettuce at me).

 - Property management companies (who look like nice people in golf shirts but they are really just judgy assholes with clipboards)

 - Renters - who are super duper weird sometimes. One guy gave me a 'pet name' during our email exchange to set up the time for viewing. No honey, Poopsey here isn't going to give you her address. The nice ones have some minor reason for not taking it, "Oh, does it have 16 cupboards in the kitchen? Jeez louise darnit all, we were looking for 17, too bad."

 - Two kids who can't decide if they like this idea or not. One minute, it's like we are going to Disneyland and the next, it's like I am forcing them to live in the back of a sketchy carneys semi-truck for 12 months - they are all panic and fear and clutching toys to their chests like tsunami survivors.

 - Insurance companies who seem to be confused about who works for who. Here's how it is, I pay you a shit ton of money, you save that money, and if my house is blown up in a botched meth lab operation by the creepy renter people, you give me all that money and some extra because I am pretty. What shouldn't happen, is you telling me that I can't leave my home or there will be consequences. It's like the mafia has taken over my insurance company, "Yous betta do what we tells ya doll, or Vinny here's gonna get reeeeeeeel upsetted bout it." If my insurance company has the word "CANADA" in it, and I am moving within the country of "CANADA" this should not be complicated. It's not Abu Dhabi, it's Halifax for the love of God, they have a Costco.

 - Trying to find people to take care of my kids shitty pets is like trying to adopt out a rabid, feces tossing, ill-tempered orangutan rather than a fucking hamster. I knew I would regret the stupid lizard that does nothing but watch my son sleep and lick it's eyeballs. Still, people, seriously, foster the fucking fish for the love of all that is holy. I'm not asking you to take one of the kids, which you totally could by the way if that shit's on the table but either spawn comes with a lizard, a hamster, a swimming frog and two stupid fish. None of these things need to be returned alive at the end of the year, or returned at all to be honest. If you wanna pay for my genius kid to go to MIT, giver shit. The other one wants to be on 'Toddlers and Tiaras' and be Jane Goddall at the same time.... have fun with that.

What I haven't had time to think about is my Celiacs. Do they have restaurants there that are Gluten Friendly? Do they have health food stores that carry the weird ingredients I need to make something as simple as a chocolate chip cookie? Do they have gastroenterologists in case this shit (literally there) goes south?

Who knows? I don't have time to research. If anyone wants to be my helper monkey on that, I would give you a gold star and send a midget stripper to your house.

I've booked my flight, which might or might not be taken with a lizard and a hamster shoved in my bra and a frog in my contact case, I've picked out our new home and packed up thirty bulging eyed, smelly stuffed animals for their trek across our fine country.

I will figure it out. At the very least, lobster is gluten free and I can eat that bit of golden love three meals a day if I have to.

Check back here for updates on A Freaking Celiac in Atlantic Canada. All I can figure, is that life going to get messier from here on out....just the way I like it.

Indulgence at Rouge

I have been married for thirteen years as of last month. Am I some sort of marriage expert? Hardly. I feel like my marriage is so personal that trying to give anyone advice on how to do it is silly. It's like asking you how you are a best friend to your best friend, it's not possible. You just DO it. I can tell you though, that my marriage is built on laughter, a...lot....of......laughter. If you have ever laughed out loud at this blog, you would love my husband because he is WAY funnier than I am.

 The main theme of our marriage though, is indulgence. My husband indulges me, incessantly. He has stopped by the side of the road, in a suit, to pick up a rusted old firepit and heft it into the back of the truck because I thought it had charm. Indulgence. He then took the same fireplace to the dump three weeks later because it was so rusty, it started to disintegrate in the back yard causing a volcano like lava to run across the deck towards the kids toes. He saved the children, put out the fire and didn't make me feel bad about any of it. Indulgence. He buys me Gluten Free Chocolates once a month, and reads all of my novels multiple times. He hears me when I tell him we are going to go to Antigua or Africa one day, and he will make it happen, because he indulges me.

The theme of our 13th Anniversary dinner was certainly one of indulgence.

We went to Rouge.

I have been wanting to go to the historic home of AE Cross for a while. Not only has it been ranked number sixty in the top 100 restaurants, Rouge has been a Calgary favorite for years now and after visiting last night, I can see why. It's the indulgence. Plain and simple. Rouge indulges it's guests and truly makes them feel special. Often, with higher end restaurants, even the most experienced diner can be made to feel judged and looked down upon. But Rouge has a way about it that is very unique indeed.

Maybe it's because it's in an old home that you feel so comfortable. Maybe it's the jolly reddish color of the exterior or the lush lawns and gardens surrounding the house in the middle of the urban sprawl. I think it's the people too. Rouge has hired staff that love their job and love the food they serve you and love that you love it. There is a personal touch to everything and it felt both personal and indulgent.

My Celiacs of course was no problem for the fine chefs at Rouge. When informed of my Celiacs, the  server told me with confidence that I could have almost anything I liked and that the chef's would alter my meal accordingly. He offered to get the details of any modifications for my approval but I felt so comfortable that I told him to let the chef's decide for themselves. And they did a beautiful job.

Let's talk about indulgence shall we?

Appetizer was a Risotto 'Carbonara', Poached Duck Egg, Lamb Bacon (LAMB BACON PEOPLE) and Grana Padano. My entrée was a 36 Hour Pork Belly and Atlantic Lobster, Parisienne Gnocchi and Shitake Mushrooms, Spiced Yoghurt - obviously the Gnocchi was omitted from my dish but I didn't notice because someone had put pork belly and lobster on the same plate in front of me. Basically, I just blacked out with happiness at that point. Dessert was a Flourless Chocolate Torte.....self explanatory there.

There were soft palate cleaners, presented without any pomposity, a wine suggestion made without snootiness and a genuine feeling that everyone just wanted you to love it there.

Rouge is easy to love, much like my husband.

After dinner, Trev and I asked to see the gardens and after slipping off my heels and sauntering through the spring grass barefoot, were then indulged and given a personal tour by a server Andrew and one of the Sous Chef's, Eric. Their enthusiasm was infectious and we spent twenty minutes touring the garden and property. Rouge grows as much of it's own produce as it can and indeed, while we chatted, several chefs came out with scissors, selected an herb, snipped it off and returned to the kitchen. Can you GET fresher than that? Hot house tomatoes, micro-greens and fifty year old rubarb plants square neatly in the shadow of this (by today's standard) modest house. It was indulgence at it's finest.

I don't remember ever having a better experience at a restaurant and will certainly be back.

After all, I have many more anniversaries to come. Because I will let you in on a little secret, no one on this planet, would put up with me the way my husband does. No one.  He puts up with my shenanigans, the swearing, the wild manic laughter, the crazy beyond crazy ideas and dreams and on top of all that, he puts up with my Celiacs.
 Now that is what I call, indulgence.

The Only Constant is Change....

I've been a mother for a decade now. Seriously, a decade. I have learnt many things in the last 10 years of this job. Mainly, I learned that there is no mastering the art of mothering. It's a job that changes so rapidly that it is impossible to do it well. No other job in the world requires a totally overhaul of your skill set every few months and yet no training is provided....at all. I have had the same job for ten years and I don't know if I ever went to bed patting myself on the back for a perfect day.

Perfection doesn't exist in the real world and it needs to be far away from the mothering world.

The other thing I have learned is that plans never, ever go as planned. Never. Make plans, then have eight million plan b's then know deep down in your heart that plan c will ultimately play out. Let go of the dream, you aren't in charge. You can plan a schedule of events at Disneyland and need to understand that you might just spend the day waiting in line to ride just the teacups. Plan as many magical moments as you want to but you will learn that the magic only happens when you aren't planning.

All plans will go out the window....own that.

Best example of this was my Mother's day this year. My baby Daddy/boyfriend/husband had planned a wonderful day, including a lunch at Craft Beer Market for my Mother's day. I was awakened after a nice sleep in, given an omelet and bacon in bed and lots of brag worthy gifts. Then I was given as much alone time as I wanted to get ready for a lunch with us and the spawn.

It was all going according to plan until we got to Craft Beer Market.

Now, hubby knows the rules of the Celiac road and had called ahead to discuss my issues. He was told that there would be a great deal of gluten free options for breakfast and lunch and they could always make me something from the regular menu.

When we got to the restaurant though, the hostess didn't seem to know what I could or could not have on the buffet, she went to check with the manager and I was beckoned to go and have a chat with the Executive Chef. Really nice guy, very knowledgeable but not many GF options. There were several tables set up with breakfast and lunch options but out of it all, I could have bacon and an omelet. Seeing how it was 1:30 in the afternoon, and I had already had my breakfast, I didn't want an omelet or bacon. I couldn't even have anything on the fruit and cheese table because there were crackers mixed all in it all. I was very sad when he said that there was no way I could eat off the regular menu. So, despite the fact that I love Craft Beer Market, we could no longer have it as our plan for the day.

So we went to plan B. Anjeo, another one of my faves for Gluten Free food. We gave them a call, and whipped down there for a fantastic lunch. I love all their dishes but really, just the chicken corn tacos are amazing. Add in some gorgeous salsa, fresh guacamole and two double margaritas and you have one happy mommy on your hands. Fantastic service, gorgeous gluten free food and the spawn using a napkin without prompting for once, what more could I ask for? 

Life is better without planning.

I tend to not tell people how to run their lives, but if you are looking for some solid mommy tools to roll with the parental punches, please read the only advise I can give you:
Make sure you always have;

Kleenexes in your purse for wiping faces, bums, noses and shoes. Add a pen for coloring.
A Tupperware container in the car for magical sticks or flowers found at the park, holding a happy meal, digging something or (of course) vomit.
A towel for said vomit, the kid that fell in the fountain, river, peed it's pants or covered itself in ice cream. This towel can be used as a diaper or a cape or a crazy hat on crazy hat day when you forget, because, you will forget.

 Other than that, stop planning. Stop, just stop.

The only thing I know as a mother for sure is the less I plan, the happier everyone is.

Stop planning because they aren't going to work out anyway. Go to plan B, plan C, plan D and at the end of it all... have a margarita.

I hope you had a great Mother's Day...I certainly did.

The Best Living Thing in Drumheller

Let's talk about Drumheller. Never heard of Drumheller? Really? You should Google it because you should know all about Drumheller.

Drumheller is a small town in the province of Alberta. It was founded on the rich mines that spatter the area but in the process of mining, the fine people of Drumheller made an amazing discovery.

They had dinosaurs.....a .....lot....of .....dinosaurs.

Drumheller is synonymous with dinosaurs and holds some of the most magnificent specimens of dino bones in the world. The town has taken a shining to this tourist gold mine and almost everything is dinosaur themed. From Dinosaur statues that line the streets to the fossil stores and the worlds largest dinosaur, Drumheller has something for kids of all ages and will not disappoint. On spring break, I took the spawn on one of our Alberta adventures and since we haven't been to Drum in a little while, they begged to go.

Being a Celiac, my first thought should have been, 'where are we going to eat?' but I'm getting a little tired of that shtick. I'm so exhausted with the worry of it all. I'm tired of panicking about where my next meal is coming from like I am living in a box or I'm Lindsay Lohan. So I have somewhat stopped worrying about it. This is not to say that I throw caution to the wind. I prep, I bring some things for me to eat but at the end of the day, so what if I have a bag of chips for dinner? Won't be the first time. Won't be the last, so I am not going to fret about it anymore.

And with most things in the universe, when you let it go, the answer will come. That answer came in the form of Sublime Food and Wine in Drumheller.

We were making our way through the town to the Royal Tyrell Museum (where the bones are) and the spawn were counting the Dinosaur statues. Well, Julia was counting the statues, Ethan was explaining to Julia the physiological impossibility of a dinosaur driving a motorcycle (apparently their heads were too heavy to maintain a balance, not to mention their mental capacity) and Julia was explaining that she knew that and to not IMPLY (that's her new favorite word) that she was stupid. Ethan said he wasn't IMPLYING anything and to quit acting like  baby. Ethan then went on to discuss the fact that these dinos wouldn't even live at the same time because some were from the Cretaceous period and others were not and the scale was off etc. Julia then looked at him and said, 'I don't think they are going for scientific accuracy because THAT one is polka dotted' Then an entire discussion on camouflage and skin patterning ensued in addition to the value of polka dots in town décor.

...This is my life people....soak in the glory.

Anyhoo, I had resigned myself to eating at (yuck) Boston Pizza when we passed by this delightful converted house with lime green trim called Sublime Food and Wine. I knew instantly that we would be eating dinner there. So, after a long day at the museum, checking in at the hotel and driving the eleven bridges to Wayne (I refuse to explain that one, go visit), I called Sublime and made a reservation.

Delightful doesn't fully encompass this gem of a restaurant. It was cute while being sophisticated and homey without being kitschy. In addition, the spawn LOVED it. 

Charming decor. Please note: spawn photo bombing with her new pterodactyl.

We were served by a lovely lady named Trinity who knew her gluten free and made sure everything was safe. In addition, everything was AMAZINGLY delicious. I had the grilled chicken and it was fresh and gorgeous and so good that I had to restrain myself from licking the plate.

Fresh, local food, prepared with thought and care.

 In fact, everything was so amazing that the kids insisted that we go there the next day for lunch. And so we did, because when my kids want to go somewhere that has an extensive wine list, I agree. When I mentioned that we would like to come back the next day, Trinity leans over and whispers, "Would you like me to pull a bun for you so you can have a sandwich tomorrow?" And the Angels wept with the beauty of it all. Let me make it clear that I was planning on leaving early the next morning. We stayed in town an extra three hours just to go to this restaurant again. I'm not kidding, it was THAT good.

This was my lunch the next day. Prime Rib Melt on a Gluten Free bun. Yeah, this exists.

Ethan had the pulled pork sandwich and Julia had the hot dog Perfect kids food.

 

 The spawn are begging to go back every week. This is how good Sublime Food and Wine is, it wins over the freaking dinosaurs!

So now, thank heaven's, Drumheller has some options for those of us who love road trips but hate road trip food. This Celiac will be back and I hope to see you all there.





 

 

 



 

 



In The Merry Old Land of Oz

Oh Doctor! Oh Doctor Oz. What have you done? Why why why did you say that and in that tone and with that context, or lack thereof? Why? Because now we all have to blog about you. We all do and to be honest, like really honest, I don't want to blog about you. But now I have to. I have to put my feet on one side of the line or the other and I have a sneaking suspicion that Celiacs aren't going to like what I have to say.
Dr. Oz isn't my favorite, I could not imagine a worse fate than getting a pap smear by the yippy yappy medical man. I think his show, although having the intention of being educational, breeds a level of hypochondrial panic that I don't enjoy. If one more person starts a sentence with 'On Dr. Oz, he said....' Ugh, no thank you.
And the other day, he decided to talk about Gluten Free Diets. Bad move my friend, bad move.
So here's the deal in case anyone was wondering. Doctor Oz, went on the Seth Myers Show and publically said that a gluten free diet is total bullshit. He said 'BS' and added 'a scam' for good measure. Sigh. Now everyone is pissed off that a Doctor is calling our lifestyle bullshit. Everyone is raging about the 'Celiac Community' and now we have taken a hit. That Oz had a perfect opportunity to educate the world on Celiac disease and didn't take it, instead he threw us under the bus.

As I am typing this, I am wincing.

I agree with Doctor Oz, the GF diet IS Bullshit.

Someone just threw a rotten head of lettuce at my head and screamed 'traitor'.

I agree with him because everyone is taking this quote out of context. Seth asks Oz about new diet crazes and then specifically mentions Gluten Free diet and gives Oz two options, real deal and bullshit and Oz picked bullshit. I agree.

A gluten free diet is not a weight loss diet, I have said this again and again and again. Stop thinking that you are going to lose weight if you switch out your bread or get gluten free cereal. You won't. I also agree when Oz goes on to say that if you have a problem with Gluten, you should swap the wheat out for other options, amaranth etc. He basically implies that processed gluten free foods are full of crap. Want to know why? Because processed gluten free foods are full of crap, that's why. He's right. Back off the good doctor.
Claiming that he has somehow insulted Celiacs by saying these things is ridiculous. Stop being so sensitive. He doesn't mean Celiacs, he means anyone who thinks that cutting gluten out of their diet will change their lives. He means the people who think that it will cure their child of Autism or ADHD. He means the people who just swap out their bread for GF bread and expect to look like Jillian Michaels the next day. He means the people that start eating gluten free pasta and are under the impression that they will be smarter, more athletic and happier. Gluten isn't making you sad. You make you sad.
Oz made a point of saying that if you want to help yourself, get real foods that don't naturally contain gluten. It's like he can read my MIND!
And no, Dr. Oz's job is not to spread the word about our disease. That's your job. You have Celiacs, not Oz. So represent. Your whinging and sensitivity and bitching and moaning isn't doing a very good job. So toughen up and cut it out. Show the world that we are strong and healthy.
While I seem to be on a roll of pissing everyone off, I will continue by being offended by the fact that other bloggers have said that Oz insulted "The Celiac Community". And I ask, what community? What the hell are you talking about? We share a disease, you haven't helped me move or babysat my kids. Is there a clubhouse I am missing out on? Secret handshake? No? In addition, I don't want to be a part of a community that just goes around complaining all the time. Quit your whining.
No one has to be an advocate for you but you, everyone else is icing on the cake.

So no, Dr. Oz is not my favorite guy on TV but I think in this instance, Celiacs' are being too sensitive and need to get thicker skin.

Cheating Bastards!

I know what they are up to. Yes I do. They think I don't know. They think they have pulled the wool over my eyes. But I am on to them.

My husband Trevor and my friend Natasha have had a thing going for years. They think they've fooled me but they are wrong.

Natasha has been sneaking shortbread to Trevor every Christmas for three years now.

I attempt, every single year to make a GF Shortbread. Every year, I fail miserably. I admit it. GF shortbread fucking sucks. I have tried every different flour and guar gum and xanthum gum and prayer and voodoo tactic that I have come across and every single year it tastes like a ball of shit. Well, no, a ball of shit would stay in one piece, not shatter when you touch it like a pile of snow.

Trevor, being the loving supporting yummy man he is, eats my shortbread. He eats them without fail and without complaint. He even eats the ones I have set aside for the children. That's right, he has thrown himself on the GF sword for his love of our children. That was a tough one to figure out. It took some well placed lights, a sensitive seven year old , dental floss and a Monster High doll named Frankie Stein to get to the truth. I am not proud of the steps I have been forced to take to discover my husband's shady dealings, but I did what I had to do.

Natasha is Scottish and one of my dearest friends. She also makes the best fucking shortbread this side of the English Channel. Bitch.

Every Christmas, she sneaks a container to Trevor and he hides them and eats them when I am not looking. She even has the audacity to throw in some Scottish sausage every once in a while. Selfish bastards. Picture it, it's Christmas time, any time of day really, lets be honest, I lean in for a kiss, Trev tosses me his cheek and I know what has happened. He's been eating Natasha's wares. Dammit.

This year was not an epic fail for the GF shortbread thanks to the progression of Robin Hood Flour but short bread is one of those things that you can't just get close enough. You have to get it just right and it's impossible to get just right. Mine turned out okay, they looked a little grey though which makes them unappetizing. The shortbread was, at best, vaguely acceptable this year, and I'm being generous. Was it as good as Natasha's full of gluten shortbread? Hell No! Will my husband ever admit to this? Hell No!

The thing that I did master this Christmas season was GF Yorshire pudding. I decided to make a roast for Christmas dinner. A choice that caused my Mother to yell, "But we're Catholic!" but still agree to sit and eat. She never clarified why Catholics can't eat beef on Christmas. I doubt she even knows.

The BAD Yorkshire!

 I started trying out the Yorkshire a week before Christmas. It took about four batches and I and ended up melding about three recipes together to get the desired effect. They were good and well enjoyed. I will toss the recipe for those in the recipe section.

The GOOD Yorksire

Don't be afraid to try new things. If you have a craving for something, try it gluten free. What's the worst that could happen? You husband prefers another woman's shortbread? Small price to pay in order to feed your adventurous side. I fail at GF food ALL the time. I'm not going to say that I'm delighted when the buns come out looking like grey hockey pucks that not even the hamster would eat, because that would be a lie. It pisses me off but I keep trying and eventually succeed and I hope you do too.

 If you fail at GF anything that's okay. Pick yourself up and try again. If you are lucky, you will have a husband who is willing to lie to you (terribly) and a dear friend who is willing to reward him for his loyalty to you.