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Purple Cabbage & Sunbutter Soup

Alexander Allrich in New Mexico
Alex in Ojo Caliente, New Mexico

The visit with Alex and his girlfriend was thick with conversation, food for the eyes, and dreams for the soul. As always, in the wake of my son's absence I am struck dumb by the restless silence of the desert, finding it difficult to steady my post-maternal footing. It's not the letting go thing. Letting go of your children is the easy part. Their beauty is astonishing and too big to keep for yourself. You miss them, yes.

But the space between you is precious, too.

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Sticky Notes (on an anniversary)

Misty arroyo, near Abiquiu New Mexico
Mist on the mesa- toward Abiquiu.

We choose our partners with a secret eye seeking the twin. Not the twin in the mirror, but the lost twin in shadow. The discarded, smothered twin we poked and twisted and kicked under the bed of childhood. The Other. The Everything We Are Not. The Abandoned One.

Forgotten in order to please.

If the stars are kind and align just right, you choose well. And The Chosen shimmers with your own potential, reflecting not what you have found but what you seek. And basking in their soul mate glow you grow- just a little. You stretch and you risk- just a little. With time and fledgling self awareness you notice a glint sparking back at you and you reach to claim it, knowing, This belongs to me. I am this, too.

And you take it back.

This unburdens your partner, piece by shining piece- who is, by design, if you have not done the work of reclaiming, either bored or chafing beneath the yoke of your golden-hued projection. Or worse- wandering off in search of eyes that see something new, or more authentic.

When people ask, What is the secret of a good marriage? I usually answer, Chemistry. And good manners. Especially when it comes to the toilet seat. And then I laugh. Because it's true. But only a slice of the truth. The more complicated truth (and one you don't share at dinner parties) is a messy, juggling, wrestling wrangle with the aspects of two separate selves discovering two mysterious twins in the marriage bed.

You see, it's not always safe to integrate.

The squelched and sore parts of you can knock apart your coupled equilibrium. Don't kid yourself. It's not ever easy to bid for wholeness. To grow. Growth means change. And change is challenging. Even in the best of circumstances. So some days it's frighteningly tempting to believe that the dust balled fragments skulking in the shadows are not worth the effort of excavation.

Denial and distraction can smell pretty good at first.

But one cloudy day when your mending hip is aching and your desert skin is itching, you glance up from the kitchen counter cluttered with sticky spoons and banana peels, and you meet a clear gaze that sees you for who you really are- not some projected angel in the house, not some idealized muse, or nurturing mother stand-in. But who you really are in all your unadorned, quirky, burnished glory.

And you thank not the stars, or luck, or even fate. You know better. You've done your homework. So has he. So you smile a slow smile and crack, What are you looking at?

The love of my life, he says.





Happy 13th Anniversary, Steve.




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Cranberry-Banana Smoothie

Vegan cranberry banana smoothie #glutenfree
Lip-smacking cranberry banana smoothie.

Here's a quick and simple cranberry infused recipe for breakfast that is refreshing, tart and food allergy friendly (around our humble casita, anyway). It's dairy-free, soy-free, egg, corn and nut free. And naturally, it's you-know-what free. Spring is around the corner, Babycakes.

Are you ready? Are you feeling a little bloated and pasty? Do you crave something light and refreshing?

Something to wake up your winter saturated taste buds?

I knew it. Pucker up.

Cranberry-Banana Smoothie - A Dairy-Free Recipe 


You don't have to be a vegan to appreciate this quick and easy breakfast. Cranberries make it tart- so please taste test and adjust the sweetness to your liking.

Ingredients: 

1/2 cup frozen organic cranberries
1 small ripe banana, peeled, sliced (frozen bananas rock)
1 cup cold non-dairy milk
A splash of cranberry juice
1 tablespoon raw agave nectar, to taste
1-2 tablespoons vanilla rice protein powder, to taste

Instructions: 

Combine the ingredients in a blender, cover and blend on a lower speed to process the cranberries. Add an ice cube or two if you like it super cold.

Rev it up to high till smooth and frothy.

Grab a straw.

Sip.

Feel the cranberry love.

Serves 1.



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Irish Potato & Cabbage Soup with Soda Bread


Irish potato and cabbage soup- rustic comfort in a bowl.

Put on some Irish music and grab your apron. Here's a recipe pairing to celebrate St. Patrick's Day- whether you're a dyed in the wool Celtic lass, Scott-Irish, or only mostly Irish in spirit. Irish Potato and Cabbage Soup and gluten-free Irish Soda Bread.

Slainte!

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Gluten-Free Main Dishes + Comfort Food


Sorry- this index has moved to:

Gluten-Free main Dish and Comfort Food Recipes
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Roasted Tomato Soup

A tomato soup recipe to cure all ills. Roasting is the secret.

When cabin fever hits, I am not a pretty sight. My hair has a static-inspired halo decidedly unholy. My chin breaks out (zits? At 53?). I pace and fidget. I am not the serene goddess you think I am.

I am itchy and creaky and sick to death of pilled winter sweaters- not to mention winter temperatures. You folks in Ohio? My thoughts are with you, Babycakes. Here in northern New Mexico I don't have much to kvetch about. But you? Oy. All that snow? It might crush me. Seriously. I'd be done.

So to celebrate the return of Daylight Saving (three weeks early, no less) I made a life affirming taste bud tingling pot of soup this weekend. See if this doesn't help quench your cabin fever.

Just a little.

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Sexy Spring Pasta- with roasted asparagus & tomatoes

A simple and romantic roasted vegetable pasta dish for two using gluten-free pasta
Simple and romantic: pasta with roasted asparagus and tomatoes.

Today's recipe is a romantic, sexy spring pasta sauce with balsamic roasted asparagus and tomatoes. Because it's snowing. There's a foot of the white stuff. Ridiculous. Our morning appointment with our real estate broker was canceled. Oh, did I mention? We're putting our house on the market. Los Angeles beckons.

Aside from my husband's screenwriting momentum, these ole bones of mine (not to mention, my spare parts) are too creaky for winters with snow. Two years ago, when we planned our big move west, I was naive enough to imagine kinder temperatures. A January with no snow shovels. February afternoons sunny and warm enough to peel off your apple-green cardigan, roll up your sleeves, and drink in vitamin D old school style. Maybe south, in Las Cruces.

But not here north of Santa Fe. And so I find myself once again turning toward the new, welcoming change. Packing away family photos and books to simplify rooms and coax potential buyers into imagining their own conversations and meals and lovemaking in this space.

This space in the desert that has been my shelter- and my tabla rasa. Where I have shed old skins and birthed a new sense of self- in startling and unexpected ways. Interesting, isn't it? Living here has been so different than I imagined. Difficult, even. And yet. So good for me. It's been all about the process of change.

And lucky for me- I think change is sexy.

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