Mystic Monk Snickering Monk Candy Bar Review

Today, I celebrated 9 months without any seizures. One of the tricks I like to use, to keep me going, is using a reward for each month, called a squeaky pig, which has consisted of a copy of Winnie the Pooh's adventures in Latin- AKA Winnie Ille Pu (complete with original illustrations, which is lovely for learning verb tenses... "he climbed and he climbed, and he climbed...") Sometimes, it's helpful to ask for help. Sometimes, you need to kick your own butt. And sometimes, you need to give yourself encouragement.

My treatment plan since January has consisted of medication and the keto diet. This has been tough, because I've always had a sweet tooth. (I have tried a sip of soda here and there-and 7 Up, after a small procedure to correct issues with my jaw- injuries during seizures had left it off kilter, and grinding my teeth had left me a few broken ones. I spent about a week after on soft foods. It is a weird experience-at first, and yet, I find that I'm not as tempted to cheat, because I feel better- and sodas and sugary things can taste ODD when you're not used to them. But, I've been craving a candy bar for a while.Luckily, I came across Mystic Monk Snickering Monk Candy Bar.
I received my bag of coffee beans just yesterday, and had to restrain myself so I could taste test to celebrate being nine months entirely seizure free, (75% of my goal to be one year seizure free... DONE!)
It is not overly sweet, but is absolutely reminiscent of a Snickers bar. It is absolutely marvelous, and I am over the moon and doing my best to save the beans for celebratory reasons. My usual coffee has become Marley Coffee's One Love blend, which is also marvelous. I highly recommend the beautiful blends from Mystic Monk. If you'd like some lovely, smooth coffee with that hint of chocolate, caramel, and peanuts, act now, because it will be gone at the end of the end of October- to be back next year. They've definitely made a returning customer. Warning: Does contain essences of peanuts. Five stars! *****

Lovis Tacitus

Mama's Got a Brand New Bag

New opportunities have arisen. Now adding to my teaching gig, I've added features writer, designer, and brand manager at Epiphanies Magazine to my bag. Because of a death in the family, and because I don't want to make myself sick and screw up four months without a tonic clonic seizure- or make my smaller staring spells, which I'm trying to correct, worse, I'm attempting to take it easy, ask for help when I need it. I've managed to learn HTML coding, studied up on RSS on the train to visit friends, (I'm thinking I'm meant to write a travalogue, but I'm still recouping... travel is never never a good time to learn about a death, sudden or not.) and did off-season Latin homework for my courses, in which I cannot converse vebally, unless I'm asking a question, accidentally slipping into it, doing a translation, or catching bits of Spanish or Italian (I did manage to translate a short conversation from a British show that sounded more like, "How long can we keep this up?" "Well, with my liberal arts degree...") but hold a solid 96% in class work. I'm ensuring that I celebrate the good, too. And look forward to more of it.

As brand manager, I know getting the design as simple and memorable as possible is the best way. I had one particular design I liked, but it ended up being too much blank space, so I took the basics and simplified, after asking select people to take a look for me.

I also tried my hand at an app for Epiphanies' social media presence, and learned how to build the basic template for those. Thankfully, Como did the QR code, although that should be a cinch to learn.
Below: A QR code for the Epiphanies app, a lazy 2 hours in the making. Compared with learning Wordpress, HTML, attempting RSS, and some odd dreams from this endeavor, this was a lazy chunk of time!
I will be looking around and improving as time goes on, and am grateful for the responsibility.

On Triggers, On Remedies, and All That Jazz

The first answer for many people when asked, "What are your triggers?"- when it comes to epilepsy, that is, is stress. While a full blown- episode might not develop, a tendency to do a blank-stared wander about (if I'm getting lost, I mean to do so purposely!)
-might develop. It's always funny- in fact, hilarious- later!
I guess I've learned this: my humor is odd and is very healthy!

Still going strong... No tonic-clonics for 12 weeks now. The minis can go... preferably somewhere in the deep south with a rather hot and arid climate!- and the "I can't brain" moments where every action is done like an automaton... I can look dear friends in the eye, have no freaking clue who they are, but do something like wave or smile because part of me says, "This is expected, act normal and no one will notice." It's a lie!


But I got myself together... and will pray for no repeats of that particular move... in the meantime, time for quiet, for comfort foods, for happy music.

I also enjoyed a wonderful and glorious performance by Cecile McLorin Salvant at Albright-Knox Art Gallery, and was delighted, stunned, and taken aback. And stress melted away. I can over- think another day! (Or, work on NOT doing so!)

With jazz, with scatting and a free, open, lyrics and flourishes, I can sit back and let myself get caught up... and no one worries if I'm enraptured, transfixed, or swaying. :-)

Note: at Saturday's concert, the ultimate line in "If This Isn't Love..." was, "if this isn't love... I'll kiss your ass!"

Thank you, to a dear friend for taking me, her children not liking jazz (You poor loves!) and 2 sets of people having to pass tickets on! I'll take it as a Godsend.

As for ass KICKING, it's my turn. I'm beating this, and sorting out! To... a state where I'm not worried about, "Oh, gosh, something's going wrong..."
Time for joy!
Cecile McLorin- Salvant: If This Isn't Love...

Lente, Lente

Lent has been upon us since March 5th. The idea is sacrifice.. as in, if you choose to not eat sugar, or fatty food, don't do it for those hot jeans.

I tried- am trying to give up anger, to be more patient. Anger has both just and unjust reasons: is someone being hurt? That's just. Are you being hurt? Then you MUST say something. I like to use the wholly unholy phrase, "Grow some big, hairy balls of steel." How to reconcile that... well. It's a headscratcher, and I'm afraid I don't have the answer.

This is no time for a perfectionist streak.

Put away needs for perfection, from yourself, from others. It's not happening. And human perfection is an illusion, normal is an insult.

How to reconcile lean diets when you have health conditions? Well, if, for example, you have an illness, are elderly, a child, you might not have carte blanche to either gobble down any glutton-y amount you might like, but fish and veggies aren't a sticking point. What can you have, besides meat? Tomato soup and grilled cheese (Dairy, broths- the taste of meat, without the substance- A-OK.)  Pizza. Pasta with almost any sauce.
But with health conditions, you may have chicken, meat, with no shame. What would I consider not limiting diets for? Children, the elderly, those who are ill- they need energy, not restriction, those with trouble maintaining calories, those recovering from eating disorders.

You are asked to put self behind you. You are not asked to make a martyr of yourself.

Remember that temptation is normal- indeed, we derive Lent (Funny how in Latin, you get the word, "lente" for "slowly"- but keep going!) From Jesus being tempted by Satan for 40 days.
There's a test, and oh, goodness, I'm feeling it! Above all, be careful what you pray for!

Books in the Running Brooks, Sermons in Stones, and Good in Every Thing

It can be easy to enjoy the silence, to work on goals, when things are easy. But what if the chaos gets too loud and, much like an experience I had listening to Beethoven in an MRI machine, the Fifth Symphony becomes distorted in your memory even as you listen to it... into "Thunk, thunk, thunk, whiiiiiiiiiiir..."

It's time to remember the sweet things, the small things. The way things are hushed on a winter's night. The smell of the cold air, sweet in your nostrils. 

Sweet are the uses of adversity, 
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; 
And this our life exempt from public haunt 
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
Sermons in stones and good in every thing. 
I would not change it. - William Shakespeare, "As You Like It", Act II Scene I

Focus not on the huge things, the pressing things. It's not a good time, or a good idea, to attempt to change the huge things in a single gulp.
Go easy on yourself.

Dear Mom, Have The Happiest of Birthdays

Dear Mom,
Happy Birthday. In honor of you, I hope the sun shines strong, the birds sing sweetly, and you have a chance to just enjoy. A break from the usual craziness and busy-ness of life, and a chance to know you truly are loved.
In the only true way we know: Happy Birthday, Ma. Na Zadrovie!
For you, a song about simply enjoying. Know you're loved. You make a difference in this world.

Thank you.
Love,
Beth

...And a Pickle In A Pine Tree

I don't know WHY this looks wrong to me.

Gather 'round, dear children, and I'll tell you a tale.
First things first: true celebrations should only begin with murderous intent in mind, not lead to it, but here we go.

German tradition is rife with tales of Bishop Nicholas, now Saint Nicolas. Also, tales that might make the Crypt Keeper's hair stand even more on end on Tales From The Crypt.
Three little boys leave home in the cold of winter, bringing with them gifts for the now-sainted Bishop, savior of would-be prostitutes and someone who still has me all these years later, still checking my shoes before I put them on.
They stay at an inn (All good Christmas tales start in that century's version of a Holiday Inn.)
The inn keeper is a nasty, greedy man and decides that he will keep the Sainted-Bishop's gifts for himself. So he murders our tiny travelers and pickles them in brine. (Another Christmas story with a bit of cannibalistic intent, check!) The Sainted-Bishop finds out and steaming, he goes to the Inn himself. Where he resurrects (with God's help & grace) the wee pickled tots. Now, many centuries later, fun-loving Germans remember the tale with the hiding of a glass (I hope) pickle hidden in their Christmas trees. (Which was another tradition we got from the Germans, courtesy of Queen Victoria, who surprise, was more German than she was English.)
The finder receives a gift, or a year of good luck.
Considering the shape of pickles, this one might be best for the Feast of the Circumcision ... of the Young Frankenstein.

A Very Special Thanksgiving Taste Test

She is a little beauty.

This week, not only am I taste-testing (remember: nothing gets served, to anyone, unless it passes MY inspection first) but I am breaking in a new crockpot that is not dollhouse sized! And I've craved turkey noodle soup for a while now!

• Ingredients: 
• First up: about a container and a half of turkey stock. Buy extra. 
• To this, add: 
• Baby carrots, 1/2 package to a package
• 3 celery stalks

• Pepper, salt, and oregano to taste. I am a "By feel" cook, but about 1/2 tsp of each ought to do it.
• 1/2 an onion
• A turkey breast. Whichever turkey sported this had about a D cup!
• 1 small onion
• Package of noodles...add last, about 3-4 hours in. 
• 
  
• Cut turkey into edible chunks.
• Chop onion and celery, just toss in baby carrots.
• Place all in crockpot. Except the noodles.
• Cook on low for 4 hours. 
• Add noodles
• Cook for half hour on high
• Or Until Noodles are Soft
• Eat!

Happy Birthday, Mom

Dear Mom,

You hate any pics of you, but I worked hard on this one. I love you. Shut up, you're beautiful.
Happy Birthday, you stubborn, stubborn woman. I thank you, for life, for fighting for me, for teaching me resilience. I may sometimes disagree with you, but you are feisty and stubborn.
Now, take care of yourself. Yes, YOU TOO. You take care of everyone else. Even if its' just for your birthday, take care of you. Eat something nice (I will be treating you, and you can't say "No." It's not allowed.) Remember that if you need to talk...a lot of pain in the past year alone, you've got me. I love you. Happy Birthday, Mom.