childhood, Uncategorized

I’ll never diet because… I was always hungry

One thing that seems to be a constant reoccurring memory is being hungry.

The first seven years we ate twice a day. Once at 7 am after worship and again at 1 pm. How that was enough on a vegan diet is beyond me. I must have been allowed snacks when I was a toddler for I was a cute chubby little thing. The diet I believe is part of why mother couldn’t conceive again for years. She had a miscarriage and then that was it for years. Raw vegan diet while working the farm just doesn’t jive with what we know is needed to sustain and provide energy to us. I still remember her paper-thin skin. The yellow jaundice tint to it when she was fasting and juicing bouts breaking up her regular diet of vegan, yeast free, primarily raw food. Under a 100 lbs and 5’5″. Images of her. Memories of the diets for health and religion keep me free of ever dieting or subjecting myself to the newest or reintroduced diet of the month.

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All three photo’s span about 15 years. Prior to religious diet and after years of it.

I recall as a little girl standing on tippy toes trying to reach the table salt and honey hidden in the very top corner shelf. I would alternate dipping my finger in the honey jar and shaking salt on my palm to lick off. Too sweet then too salty never satisfying my growling belly. One time I tried the soft heart shaped cat treats. Trust me on this – just don’t! I sat on the floor next to the water bucket in the pantry ladling water into my mouth for all I was worth. No matter how many ladles of delicious cold water I drank I couldn’t rid my tongue of that terrible taste. The soft treat had disintegrated into all the corners of my mouth filling it with that awful flavor.

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For as long as I lived at home I remember being hungry. Sneaking food whenever I could. At meals, we would stuff ourselves as much as we could. I remember food eating contests where mom would undo her belt and jump up and down to make more room. Still makes me giggle a little. Other times we would have contests who could put the most plums, or popcorn into our mouths at one time. Or who had the biggest mouth enabling them to fit the entire serving ladle into their mouth. Mom and I always won.

Now years later I try to stay active and eat healthily. I see my body and metabolism change as I grow older. The social media onslaught of eating plans and diets for various reasons and easy weight loss are everywhere. One thing is for sure. I’ll not diet and be hungry again. I will love and savor each bite of delicious food not taking it for granted.

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She looks much older than I at almost the same age.
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lifestyle, Uncategorized

My parents’​ lifestyle change

Our lifestyle was determined by an author who wrote many books explaining what Gods meaning was in the Bible. What we ate, wore, the age men and woman could marry, social interactions, our daily schedule, our seclusion from society. Her word held in high esteem and studied daily.

Our diet was a big change for many. For many coming from a meat and potatoes, butter flavored mash, desserts, fast food, and other mainstream diets. Well, it was incredibly hard to adjust. The diet consisted of two meals a day, primarily raw for the first few years.  It’s no wonder that my mother couldn’t conceive after having me for years. I can only guess at how much weight she lost those first few years. It’s a wonder I was such a chubby cutie. I must have been fed more often although there are not many left to ask.

My mom had a story that they laughed about. When she and my dad were driving to the community after they were married she had a list of all the things she would need to set up the house for them. When I heard the story I would imagine them driving along in the forest green international pickup with its log camper on the back. The road curving and twisting as they kept driving farther north. I can feel the excitement she must have felt inside going to see the home they would share together. Starting a life with the man she loved above all others. Holding her list of all the things she needed to start life as a housewife.Shopping-list-coloring-page

Photo used from

Turns out mom knew very little about the lifestyle she had married into. Dad had disappeared for a year and then called her up and asked her to marry him. He had found God and country living in the year he was gone. He was no longer a computer engineer for a well-known railroad company. He was now a member of a self-supporting community that lived by the good book and the books explaining the good book. She had no idea the life she had signed up for. On that first drive reviewing her list of things and finding only TWO items were approved. Yes, that’s correct only two items were approved for their new lifestyle and diet. Salt and flour.  Yes, that’s correct salt a flour!

She would laugh as she told the story. It makes me sad for I remember her 5 foot  5 inches  95 pounds. Her skin often yellow tinged as though suffering from jaundice. The stress of her God-fearing husbands’ judgment causing her eczema outbreaks to worsen. Her appearance as a 40-year-old woman was a far cry from the photo’s of her as a healthy dimple-faced 22-year-old from the wedding photo.

Over the years the diet had changed. Things like adding yeast, sugar, oils, baked and cooked foods. Even a light supper was added. Working the land, being active and outdoors tends to burn a high amount of calories. Eating vegan three times a day or less would make it difficult to intake enough calories.

childhood, Uncategorized

Gardening of my childhood

Gardening was a very big part of my childhood. We grew and bought enough food to keep us thru the winter. We had orchards, vineyard, and a huge garden the size of most suburban yards. We froze, canned, and dried fruits and vegetables in four digit numbers. Our dehydrator was the size of a refrigerator with sliding screens from top to bottom. We even made fruit leather. We had two deep freezes, large army containers filled with beans we had grown, and a cold room filled top to bottom with single and double quart mason jars. And don’t get me started on our canner. It was a huge square metal tub on legs in the yard. It had wooden wracks on the bottom to keep the glass jars from touch the bottom and shattering from the heat. We built a large fire beneath and kept it burning all day for weeks on end. Canner is pictured below behind the jars of pears fresh out and cooling from their session. Thousands of pounds of peaches, apricots, pears, tomatoes, and home made applesauce were processed each summer.2272_139595780496_3427_n

We planted beans, corn, broccoli, brussel sprouts, you name it we grew it. No sprays or pesticides were used. All natural methods only. One particularly gross therefore memorable thing mom used was cannibalism. Okay maybe an explanation would be enlightening. These weird worms were eating the brussel sprouts so mom took a few cups of them and blended them up with a few other ingredients. Then she poured them around each plant. Apparently the worms wouldn’t eat their own kind. That memory is burned into my brain. Every time I use a blender I think of it. It was until recently when I got a margarita maker that I began to have slightly happy feelings for a blender that didn’t remind me of worms!

The first picture I posted on here was of me barely 3 years old. I was holding giant potato that I had helped to plant that spring. I was so tiny that the way mom taught me was one two potato. You see my feet were so tiny I would take two toe to heel steps then drop a potato. Rows upon rows of them.

We grew giant fields of corn, delicious sweet juicy corn. On the way back up the mountain for lunch the others in the car would be husking them tossing the husks out the window as we drove. The pot of water would be boiling and ready for the husked cobs when we arrived.

My cousins came to visit once when I was about 10 or so. They had never scene a lifestyle like ours much less a garden. They had no idea that corn came from a plant in the field. I remember feeling quite sad for them to not know this. Running thru the rows of vegetable, sneaking a pea off the vine or a carrot from the earth and eating it to me was as important to my childhood as breathing air.

One taste I remember clearly once coming to the world is the taste of tin. Yes, I meant to say tin! I had never had processed or canned food from a grocery store really. The first time I tried peaches from a can I was so disappointed that I never bought them again. They didn’t taste sweet like a peach, they were hard almost with a crunch, after the sugary sweet of the glucose the tang of tin long remained on my tongue. When I had my children I canned peaches to use for baby food as I didn’t want to use the sickly sweet fruit and baby food available at the time.