Emily the Cowardly Dog

Today I am going to share a very true story about how big of a pussy I am. Sadly, everything you are about to read is true...

Do you remember my friend Craig, the photographer? Of course you do. You CLEARLY remember every detail of my blogs, right? Of course right! Well, we weren't exactly just friends.We started dating almost a year ago, and live together in a very cozy, absolutely adorably perfect house. It's great, so long as he doesn't leave me home alone...

One night...ONE NIGHT Craig went out with some friends. I had to work the next morning and couldn't go. I told myself I was going to be a responsible adult (I keep trying to wrap my head around that concept) go to bed early, and be sound asleep by the time Craig came home. I should have known better. I should have remembered that I call the police when my heater turns on at night, when I'm home alone and don't recognize the sound. I should have remembered that I hide in rooms, closets, cupboards, pretty much whatever I can crawl into when I hear someone throwing glass into a trashcan at 3am. Yes, my friends, I am that girl. I freak myself out when left alone in a house at night. I'm convinced that the boogie man is out to get me, and in fact laughs at my trembles and increased PG&E bill due to leaving every light on in the house.I think my mother forgot to give me my big girl panties when she gave me my first box of tampons during puberty.

Not 5 minutes after Craig left the house, I heard a noise. Creeeeeeeeek! Squeek. Squeek. Squeek. A slow rolling grocery basket was being pushed along my street somewhere. I text Craig:
"Literally as soon as you left, it sounded like a hobo rolling a shopping cart down the sidewalk, then someone whistling. CREEPY" Craig replied, "I love you baby. We should get you a club." My response, "A club, a shotgun, and mace. And a doberman. Definitely a doberman..."

I avoided all rooms with uncovered windows. Internal battles ensued. I contemplated keeping the porch light off, thinking that if I turned it on, my house would act as a  bat symbol, and every evil doer would appear on my doorstep ready to prove their dominance. Or the hobos crazed off bath-salts would be drawn to the light like a moth to a flame, and begin the zombie apocalypse we ALL know is coming. I contemplated leaving the light on, thinking that if someone were to try and make their way past my castle walls, someone would undoubtedly see and come to my rescue. I kept the light on.

"Maybe I should just take a shower and go to bed..." I thought to myself as I barricaded myself in my bedroom.
"But if  I take a shower I'll be vulnerable.." I settled on bath.

I went to bed.
"Should I turn on my fan? If I don't, I may not hear if someone comes in...But if I turn it on, maybe I can chill out..." I turned on the fan.


I laid there. Staring at the ceiling convinced Craig was going to come home to a scene out of a horror movie. Instead, he came home at 2am to a very scared, very tired girl friend.

One thing I forgot to mention; Craig was scheduled to go on a male bonding back-packing trip with his best friends....for 5 days.....

Good God, someone lend me a pair of big girl panties....

Make that a Gluten Free Cupcake. Hold the Razors.

For several years now, I've suffered from chronic migraines. In fact, last year, I had at least one migraine a day.. As you can imagine, they were a bit intrusive. I mean, how am I supposed to enjoy Glee to it's full potential when my head feels like it's been stuffed into a juicer with a handful of rocks, and a few dozen daggers (you know, just for a little flavor.)  I still get them, but thankfully, I only get about one a week now, if I'm lucky. Their severity, typically causes me to hide away in a dark room with a pillow over my head, hissing like a vampire any time any one attempts to disrupt, or alter my cave like environment. 

6 years ago, my mom was diagnosed with Celiac disease. Basically, Celiac is an allergy to gluten. No wheat, no rye, no barley. Since she was diagnosed, she has urged me to get tested to see if I have the same disease, as it can be genetic, and I exhibit some of the symptoms. The test includes a blood test that searches for an antibody, and if that comes back positive, an endoscopy is performed to fully diagnose the disease. Having an almost debilitating fear of needles, and a long term love affair with bread, I had no intention of getting tested. Until my brother was diagnosed. Within a week, she called me with an appointment set up, and a blood order from my doctor all ready to go to have me tested. I took a deep breath, put my big girl panties on, and had the blood test done. Although I didn't cry, yes, my fear of needles is THAT bad, I did clench my eyes, squeeze my mothers hand, and try to ignore the blood splatters on the wall next to me. 

For a week, I over indulged myself on all things gluten, in anticipation of being told that I wouldn't be allowed to eat it anymore. 

"Enjoy that while you can!" My mother would cackle as I ate a slice of bread. 

Finally the call came. 

"Emily, your test came back negative. You do not have Celiac."

Immediately, I called my mom.

"NEGATIVE!!! I TOLD YOU!!" I screamed. 

"Well, I still think you should try a gluten free diet," she replied.

I am now week 1 into a month long gluten free diet. It's difficult, I won't lie. All I want is to indulge in a slice of cheesecake, dancing in pure jubilation on top of a mountain of gluten injected toast. But instead, I'm trying to find alternatives to the foods I love. It's helpful having a mother who's been living with this for 6 years. So far, I've discovered I enjoy steel cut oats, gluten free pizza, and gluten free french toast. If you have any favorite gluten free recipes, or suggestions, let me know! 

Recipe for Awesome Gluten Free Steel Cut Oats:

Make steel cut oats from scratch

Add Honey, milk, and a decent spoonful of Coconut Oil. 

Stir everything up, and enjoy the gloriousness that you have just created. 

yummmmmmmmmmmmmm