I’m about to say something I’ve been hoping to say for the last 25 years: I am no longer allergic to raspberries! I realise this might seem like trivial news to most of you, but the memory of just how sick raspberries made me when I was little, still makes me shiver.
Most people who know me IRL, have likely heard me ask: what’s this red stuff in this desert? What’s this made of? I hadn’t had a raspberry since I was 7 or 8 years old. My mother discovered I was allergic to raspberries when I spent a summer eating raspberries out of my great-uncle’s garden and subsequently spending the rest of the day with a horrible migraine and vomiting. I was so scarred of raspberries when I was little that I didn’t even eat a raspberry flavoured gummy until I was an adult!
I had always wanted to see if I had outgrown the allergy, but there just never seemed to be a right time to block off the day for a potential migraine. Then, a few months ago, I accidentally received a raspberry crepe instead of the strawberry crepe I had ordered. I realised the error the instant I took a bite, but it was too late. Obviously I didn’t eat the rest of the crepe, but it was too late for the single bite. I waited for the killer migraine to hit, but it never came. In the last month I started experimenting: raspberry yogourt… nothing, cottage cheese with field berries… nothing, frozen raspberries in a smoothie… still nothing!
This news brings a world of opportunities: new desserts, variety packs of yogourt that include raspberries, blackberries or field berries and of course, fresh raspberries. Yay!
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Monday, August 24, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
I’ve paid my dues – now give me a break.
My Mom is an interesting character. Since my father passed away 16 years ago, she has depended a lot on her daughters. In her mind, children are there to take care of their parents as they age, entertain their parents when need be and basically tend to their parents every whim and need. Since moving back to the city three years ago, I’ve been fairly good at tending to my daughterly duties. I was single and could easily call her most days and see her a few times a week. With the exception of not always inviting her when I went out with my sisters (which apparently is a big daughterly no-no), I’ve been mostly on the ball.
The Mr. Perfect dreamily walks into my life. Did I drop everything in my life to be with him 24/? Of course not! I still call my mother every other day and make sure to see her at least once a week. Sure, it’s possible I might have gone two days without calling, but I do have sisters who also call her. Plus, she’s the most social person I know – she has tons of friends.
A few weeks ago I called her on a Sunday and she went on and on about how she was all alone Friday and Saturday night and how she called everyone and no one was around. It was a lot of poor me whining. Even though I had lots to do around the house that afternoon, I folded and asked if she wanted to do something. So I ended up spending the day with my Mom rather than cleaning my house.
Last night she pulled the same stunt again. I had spent Sunday with her and had called her at least three times. Mr. Perfect had come over for supper and we were making a BBQ. Around 5:00, my Mom showed up. She wanted me to go over to her place for supper. Obviously she saw that I couldn’t as the BBQ was already fired up and our supper was on its way to being done. Even though we were going to eat soon, I invited her in. I even invited her to stay for supper but she said she couldn’t because she’s on this new fan-dangled diet (that’s a whole other post). She sat there for 15 minutes or so, complaining about all the food she had to eat on her diet and how difficult it was to eat all that food. I pasted my most sincere fake smile and nodded at every word. Finally she slowly got up and said, “Well, I better get going since I’m going to have to eat alone, since you’re having supper with your boyfriend again”, and then she laughs just so we know how passive-aggressive she’s being. I smile and remind her she can stay for supper, but she declines again.
As soon as she left I smiled at Mr. Perfect and he could just tell it was dripping with sarcasm. He responded with, “Holy guilt trip!” Yup. That’s my Mom. I was kinda happy he was there to see it for himself. I sometimes feel like I complain a lot about my mother, but to have someone confirm her silliness was reassuring.
...
The Mr. Perfect dreamily walks into my life. Did I drop everything in my life to be with him 24/? Of course not! I still call my mother every other day and make sure to see her at least once a week. Sure, it’s possible I might have gone two days without calling, but I do have sisters who also call her. Plus, she’s the most social person I know – she has tons of friends.
A few weeks ago I called her on a Sunday and she went on and on about how she was all alone Friday and Saturday night and how she called everyone and no one was around. It was a lot of poor me whining. Even though I had lots to do around the house that afternoon, I folded and asked if she wanted to do something. So I ended up spending the day with my Mom rather than cleaning my house.
Last night she pulled the same stunt again. I had spent Sunday with her and had called her at least three times. Mr. Perfect had come over for supper and we were making a BBQ. Around 5:00, my Mom showed up. She wanted me to go over to her place for supper. Obviously she saw that I couldn’t as the BBQ was already fired up and our supper was on its way to being done. Even though we were going to eat soon, I invited her in. I even invited her to stay for supper but she said she couldn’t because she’s on this new fan-dangled diet (that’s a whole other post). She sat there for 15 minutes or so, complaining about all the food she had to eat on her diet and how difficult it was to eat all that food. I pasted my most sincere fake smile and nodded at every word. Finally she slowly got up and said, “Well, I better get going since I’m going to have to eat alone, since you’re having supper with your boyfriend again”, and then she laughs just so we know how passive-aggressive she’s being. I smile and remind her she can stay for supper, but she declines again.
As soon as she left I smiled at Mr. Perfect and he could just tell it was dripping with sarcasm. He responded with, “Holy guilt trip!” Yup. That’s my Mom. I was kinda happy he was there to see it for himself. I sometimes feel like I complain a lot about my mother, but to have someone confirm her silliness was reassuring.
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Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Roommate Rotation
I’m thinking of renaming my blog to Roommate Rotation because that’s all I seem to be talking about lately. My roommate, formerly known as B.R.E. (best roommate ever) has given her notice for the end of the month. From here on in she will be known as N.Q.B.R.E (not quite the best roommate ever). She moved in on July 1. *sigh*
It’s probably for the best anyway as she has a very annoying habit of leaving doors open; front door to the house, back door, kitchen cupboards, closet doors, etc. At one point the front door was open and all my kitchen cupboards where open when I got home from work. For a moment, I thought I had been robbed.
I really shouldn’t judge her... maybe she has some sort of physical disorder that makes it difficult for her to close doors. Maybe she had a brain injury and is suffering from a form of hemispatial neglect... but instead not being aware of one side of space, she’s just unaware of open doors. Hmmmm.... interesting...
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It’s probably for the best anyway as she has a very annoying habit of leaving doors open; front door to the house, back door, kitchen cupboards, closet doors, etc. At one point the front door was open and all my kitchen cupboards where open when I got home from work. For a moment, I thought I had been robbed.
I really shouldn’t judge her... maybe she has some sort of physical disorder that makes it difficult for her to close doors. Maybe she had a brain injury and is suffering from a form of hemispatial neglect... but instead not being aware of one side of space, she’s just unaware of open doors. Hmmmm.... interesting...
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