I know I like to bake, because I still want to do it even though I almost never want to eat anymore. My appetite, due to my illness I suspect, or maybe my medications? Well-anyway, its almost entirely gone. I rely on cliff bars and ensure to get me through the day because they are easy to get down and offer me some protein. I get sick when I eat other things. I get sick when I don’t eat at all. So this is my “happy medium”.
I went thrift shopping with some of my best friends today. I was looking forward to this so much. I slept 16 hours last night just to make absolutely sure my body wouldn’t crap out on me. I was prepared. I even brought snacks for sustenance. Including the bars I will be showing you in this post.
It feels like I’ve been lit on fire, doused with water, then stung by bee’s, and attacked by bears with knives after which I was buried alive in the cold hard ground at a cursed Indian burial ground. Then, I was dug back up, dressed in a suit of meat and thrown into a pool filled with great white sharks.
I’m sorry to all those waiting for a recipe. I’m at the mercy of my body to some extent and I’ve been waiting out the storm. But I wanted to write this post because its on my heart to make something clear.
I’ve heard, so kindly, from several people that they are amazed at how strong I am, and that I’m so humble and have an inspiring relationship with God. I think it’s so sweet that everyone would say such amazing words, but I feel like I need to explain some things.
I’m aware this is not a popular view, but I don’t understand why the sun gets hot. This summer in Washington has been miserably hot. I could not be more thankful that its finally cooling off now that September has rolled around.
I mean, I’m all for light and stuff, and sunny pretty-ness is great and flowers like it and all. So yeah. I’m a fan of those ideas. But it seems to me that there should be a purpose to the heat other than making humans miserable.