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Hi Dear Readers!!!

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Thank you for reading!!

XOXO
-Michelle

Chocolate Chocolate Chocolate Mint

When I received my email for this month’s challenge I was excited by the words assigned to me. I felt motivated to do something really special with them. Then I saw who submitted them. Karen of Baking In A Tornado, the mastermind and ringleader behind these fantastic challenges. I knew I had to try something new.

Summer has settled in here in the Northeastern US. The warm days outnumber the cool ones for the most part. The unending and bitter cold days of winter have faded and my yard has sprouted all sorts of goodies.

One of those goodies is chocolate mint. My best friend had gifted me a single plant a couple years ago and I planted it outside my kitchen door and, if we are being honest, showered it with an amazing amount of neglect. It did not seem disturbed in the least bit as a matter of fact it has flourished. I was determined to actually do something with it besides stopping to inhale it’s chocolaty minty goodness.

I have always preferred to cook with fresh ingredients, cooking from scratch over anything processed from a box. My husband’s multiple food allergies and Celiac’s shifted our eating years ago. I found that my four-month battle with morning sickness had left me lacking in motivation to create delicious foods for my family. This mint that perfumed my yard from my door all the way to my maple trees was a constant reminder that I should look as close to home as possible for inspiration.

As I picked the hundredth leaf of the season and rubbed it between my fingers, releasing the tummy soothing scent, it hit me. Gluten free brownies. Chocolate mint gluten free brownies. I had everything I needed so I got to work.

The biggest trick with gluten free (gf) baking is moisture/tenderness. GF goodies can quickly become dry and crumbly. I scoured the internet and no one had the recipe I wanted. I decided that I needed to create these brownies completely. I took guidance from a handful of recipes, my own experience with gf ingredients, and that amazing green mint growing feet away from me.

As I mixed and measured I felt my mind settle into the rhythm of baking. I no longer thought about my nausea or our impossibly tight budget. Instead, I thought about each ingredient and how they would work together to make a (hopefully) delicious treat for my family. I realized how much I love being in my kitchen and how much I had missed it. I was able to appreciate my family’s rejection of living a faster-is-better lifestyle and instead focusing on slower, simpler approach. As I stirred the batter and scrapped it into the pan I felt a sense of calm, a sense of deep gratitude for the little things.

Once the brownies had baked and cooled I called my family to come have a seat. It was the moment of truth. When someone you love takes a bite of something you made just for them and silence takes over, you know you succeeded. The reviews came pouring in after a quick chug of milk.

“These are some of the best brownies I have ever had!” My husband declared.

My daughter smiled at me when I asked her what she thought. “They are so good!” Her smile grew wider, “can I have more, Momma?”

Can’t argue with those reviews.

_________________________________________________________________________

 Chocolate-Chocolate-Chocolate Mint Gluten Free Brownies

Ingredients:

- ½ cup gluten free all purpose flour blend

- ½ cup unsweetened coca powder

- ¼ teaspoon gluten free baking powder

- ¼ teaspoon salt

- ¾ cup PLUS 2 tablespoons granulated cane sugar

- ½ cup softened unsalted butter (1 stick)

- 2 large eggs

- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

- 1 cup chocolate chips (I used dark)

- ¼ cup chopped fresh chocolate mint

Prep:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F/ 176 degrees C for metal pan or 325 degrees F/ 163 degrees C for glass pan

Grease 8x8-inch pan with butter or coconut oil

Batter:

Sift together gf flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, salt and sugar. Set aside.

In large mixing bowl combine butter, eggs, vanilla and chocolate chips. Mix until well combined.

Slowly stir in dry mixture. Batter will be thick and fudgey. Gently mix in chopped mint leaves.

Scrap batter into greased pan.

Bake for 22 minutes, making sure you do not over cook as brownies will become hard. Cool in pan for 15-20 minutes before cutting and serving.

_________________________________________________________________________

My words were: wider ~ faster ~ disturbed ~ unending ~ motivated ~ trees

They were submitted by:  http://Bakinginatornado.com

This post is part of the Use Your Words Challenge. Participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words are to be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knew who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.

Check out the other fabulous participants here:

http://bakinginatornado.com                                Baking In A Tornado

http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com/                          Spatulas on Parade

http://stacysewsandschools.blogspot.com/                      Stacy Sews and Schools

http://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com/                      The Bergham’s Life Chronicles

http://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/                    Confessions of a part-time working mom

http://www.someoneelsesgenius.com                     Someone Else’s Genius

http://batteredhope.blogspot.com                      Battered Hope

http://www.healingtomato.com                         Healing Tomato

http://www.eviljoyspeaks.wordpress.com             Evil Joy Speaks

http://thesadderbutwisergirl.com                       The Sadder But Wiser Girl

No More What-Ifs

Imagine you have to undergo eye surgery. Unfortunately there is a chance it won't be successful, and you'll go blind. To make up for the risk, the insurance company is paying for a whole month of soaking up memories. What do you want to see and do?

 __________________________________________________

This prompt left me asking so many questions. First was, why would I be having eye surgery? Is it elective? In that case, this whole hypothetical situation is a moot point. I do not do elective surgery. But, what if it was medically necessary?  What would it be treating? What could it possibly be correcting with such a high risk? If I opted out of surgery, what would be the worst case scenario? (Blindness seems like pretty much the worse thing to happen as far as your eyes go.....)

If I take this prompt at face value, not asking any further questions, I end up with a pretty quick answer.

I do nothing. I continue on with my life as usual. Trying to cram in memories leads to disappointments and more heartbreak. Instead, I would continue on living the way I do now. For every moment.

Simple, easy.

But, if I was to elaborate, I would say that I refuse to give this scenario much thought. Life is full of what ifs. Moments that could go wrong and alter your future forever. Worrying and pondering will not change the outcome but it will interfere with the moments you still have.


This prompt was a challenge in many ways. I wanted to write more, post something I really loved. But the reality, the truth is, I don't love this prompt. I don't like "what ifs." I have no time for them, I allowed them to rule my life for way too long, years ago. I am done worrying about what may be, what could be, and am focused on what is.

I have way too much to be thankful for to waste time worrying about the things I cannot change.

________________________________________________

This post is part of a Secret Subject Swap. This week, 15 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.My topic was submitted by, Confessions of a part-time working mom

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts.  Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:

http://www.BakingInATornado.com                          Baking In A Tornado

http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com/                          Spatulas on Parade

http://stacysewsandschools.blogspot.com/                      Stacy Sews and Schools

http://dinoheromommy.com/                                    Dinosaur Superhero Mommy

http://morethancheeseandbeer.blogspot.com           More Than Cheese and Beer

http://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/                          Confessions of a part-time working mom

http://www.someoneelsesgenius.com                     Someone Else’s Genius

http://sparklyjenn.blogspot.com/                        Sparkly Poetic Weirdo

http://www.crumpetsandbollocks.com                    Crumpets and Bullocks

http://fbxadventures.blogspot.com                      FBX Adventures (In Parenting)

http://elleroywashere.com                                  elleroy was here

http://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com                  Climaxed

http://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com                The Bergham’s Life Chronicles

http://www.eviljoyspeaks.wordpress.com               Evil Joy Speaks

Love Of Four

This is a piece I had previously posted. I love it so much I thought, in honor of our twelve year anniversary, I would rework it and re-post.

__________________________________________________

I grabbed his hand as though his weight alone would anchor me to the ground we stood on. “It is beautiful” he said, eyes fixed on the millions of stars that illuminated the sky above us.

It was, indeed, beautiful. All those tiny pinpoints twinkling against an endless velvety dark blue void. My pulse quickened. My head felt weightless. I held onto his hand tighter. Between feeling so incredibly small, falling in love, and my extreme fear of all things huge and unknown, I wasn’t sure if I was going to lose consciousness or vomit. Maybe both.

When I was a little girl I would proudly announce that I was going to be a ballerina and an astronaut when I grew up. I wanted to dance on the moon. I absorbed every book I could find about the solar system. I would recite the planets (in order from the sun, of course), to anyone willing to listen. The idea of something so big that we hadn’t found the end to yet, fascinated me.

My curiosity-filled innocence slowly faded and in its place stood anxiety, fear, and panic. These things, at times, consumed me. I no longer looked at the sky in awe and amazement. I avoided looking up at all out of fear of what may be, of what I didn’t know. I would glance at a harvest moon and momentarily forget that I was fearful. Then a wave of panic would awaken me from my daydream and anxiety would settle in once again.

Then I met him. We spent our first summer under dark and moody skies. Thunderstorm after thunderstorm rolled through. We would watch from my truck as the sky changed from clear blue to steely grey to black. Together we watched lightning rip through the clouds. Claps of thunder echoed in my ears along with the pounding of my completely smitten heart.

Warm nights filled with star gazing and storytelling. I started to forget my fears. As long as he was beside me, I could do anything. The unknown was a beautiful place to be.

Four years later, we married on a beautiful October day. The sun warmed my bare shoulders and made his blue eyes sparkle brighter than the sky. Later that night, we surrounded ourselves with friends and celebrated our union. I found myself looking up at the stars. The infinite unknown didn’t seem so scary. It seemed hopeful, promising. Maybe not knowing was better after all.


Another four years and we were holding our first child in our arms. She was born on a summer day, one just like when we fell in love eight years earlier. This time, we were falling in love with a brand new little person, one we created. I held him, afraid that if I let go, I would float away and awake, finding that all this was just a dream.

Our daughter is nearly four and we have a baby on the way now. She asks about the sky and the stars. I gaze up, feeling the new life we created gently roll and kick while a small hand grasps mine. Together we look at the night sky. I hold my family, to keep me firmly on the ground. I still feel those rushes but I know that I have them to hold me. I have him. 


I have moments where I find myself looking at the sky, in awe of all that I have. I am overwhelmed with gratitude, for us, for our life, for him. It is in those moments that I still reach out and grab his hand, hoping that his weight alone will anchor me to the ground.

He looks over at me, his eyes still sparkling like that clear October sky, his voice the same as it was on those warm summer nights so many years ago, “It is beautiful”, he says.

Yes, my love, it is beautiful.

I grabbed his hand as though his weight alone would anchor me to the ground we stood on. “It is beautiful” he said, eyes fixed on the millions of stars that illuminated the sky above us.

It was, indeed, beautiful. All those tiny pinpoints twinkling against an endless velvety dark blue void. My pulse quickened. My head felt weightless. I held onto his hand tighter. Between feeling so incredibly small, falling in love, and my extreme fear of all things huge and unknown, I wasn’t sure if I was going to lose consciousness or vomit. Maybe both.

When I was a little girl I would proudly announce that I was going to be a ballerina and an astronaut when I grew up. I wanted to dance on the moon. I absorbed every book I could find about the solar system. I would recite the planets (in order from the sun, of course), to anyone willing to listen. The idea of something so big that we hadn’t found the end to yet, fascinated me.

My curiosity-filled innocence slowly faded and in its place stood anxiety, fear, and panic. These things, at times, consumed me. I no longer looked at the sky in awe and amazement. I avoided looking up at all out of fear of what may be, of what I didn’t know. I would glance at a harvest moon and momentarily forget that I was fearful. Then a wave of panic would awaken me from my daydream and anxiety would settle in once again.

Then I met him. We spent our first summer under dark and moody skies. Thunderstorm after thunderstorm rolled through. We would watch from my truck as the sky changed from clear blue to steely grey to black. Together we watched lightning rip through the clouds. Claps of thunder echoed in my ears along with the pounding of my completely smitten heart.

Warm nights filled with star gazing and storytelling. I started to forget my fears. As long as he was beside me, I could do anything. The unknown was a beautiful place to be.

Four and a half years later, we married on a beautiful October day. The sun warmed my bare shoulders and made his blue eyes sparkle brighter than the sky. Later that night, we surrounded ourselves with friends and celebrated our union. I found myself looking up at the stars. The infinite unknown didn’t seem so scary. It seemed hopeful, promising. Maybe not knowing was better after all.

It has been nearly 12 years since our first summer. We have a daughter now. She asks about the stars and the moon. Together we look at the night sky. I hold them both, to keep me firmly on the ground. I still feel those rushes but I know that I have them to hold me. I have him.

He looks over at me, his eyes still sparkling like that clear October sky, “It is beautiful”, he says.

Yes, my love, it is beautiful.

- See more at: http://www.juiceboxconfession.com/2014/01/love-in-sky.html#sthash.t62HjVZb.dpuf

I grabbed his hand as though his weight alone would anchor me to the ground we stood on. “It is beautiful” he said, eyes fixed on the millions of stars that illuminated the sky above us.

It was, indeed, beautiful. All those tiny pinpoints twinkling against an endless velvety dark blue void. My pulse quickened. My head felt weightless. I held onto his hand tighter. Between feeling so incredibly small, falling in love, and my extreme fear of all things huge and unknown, I wasn’t sure if I was going to lose consciousness or vomit. Maybe both.

When I was a little girl I would proudly announce that I was going to be a ballerina and an astronaut when I grew up. I wanted to dance on the moon. I absorbed every book I could find about the solar system. I would recite the planets (in order from the sun, of course), to anyone willing to listen. The idea of something so big that we hadn’t found the end to yet, fascinated me.

My curiosity-filled innocence slowly faded and in its place stood anxiety, fear, and panic. These things, at times, consumed me. I no longer looked at the sky in awe and amazement. I avoided looking up at all out of fear of what may be, of what I didn’t know. I would glance at a harvest moon and momentarily forget that I was fearful. Then a wave of panic would awaken me from my daydream and anxiety would settle in once again.

Then I met him. We spent our first summer under dark and moody skies. Thunderstorm after thunderstorm rolled through. We would watch from my truck as the sky changed from clear blue to steely grey to black. Together we watched lightning rip through the clouds. Claps of thunder echoed in my ears along with the pounding of my completely smitten heart.

Warm nights filled with star gazing and storytelling. I started to forget my fears. As long as he was beside me, I could do anything. The unknown was a beautiful place to be.

Four and a half years later, we married on a beautiful October day. The sun warmed my bare shoulders and made his blue eyes sparkle brighter than the sky. Later that night, we surrounded ourselves with friends and celebrated our union. I found myself looking up at the stars. The infinite unknown didn’t seem so scary. It seemed hopeful, promising. Maybe not knowing was better after all.

It has been nearly 12 years since our first summer. We have a daughter now. She asks about the stars and the moon. Together we look at the night sky. I hold them both, to keep me firmly on the ground. I still feel those rushes but I know that I have them to hold me. I have him.

He looks over at me, his eyes still sparkling like that clear October sky, “It is beautiful”, he says.

Yes, my love, it is beautiful.

- See more at: http://www.juiceboxconfession.com/2014/01/love-in-sky.html#sthash.t62HjVZb.dpuf

Bowl

We have a bowl made by some pretty amazing local artists called a Home Bowl. It was given to us before the birth of first child. After her birth my husband photographed her in the bowl. What better representation of our home than our daughter.

Image copyright Zachary Stephens 2010

These days our Home Bowl holds treasures lovingly gathered by the hands of our now nearly four year old. As I sit here looking at it while I feel our newest child roll and kick in my belly, I am overwhelmed with memories and love.

Something that others may perceive as a simple, beautiful bowl is so much more to us. To us, it holds more treasures that anyone can see.

Words and Image copyright v noelle 2013

Perfectly Imperfect

I have been seeing a lot of posts and memes swirling around the internet stating things like, “No mom is perfect,” or “No one's life is as perfect as it is on Facebook,” or “Perfection is impossible.”

It is making me a little sad. Has “perfect” become a four letter word? Do we truly believe that perfect is unachievable? That our lives will never be perfect? Have we collectively given up?

Except, I don’t agree with any of this. I believe that people need to redefine perfection. All of us. I see perfection everywhere. Perfect isn’t a straight line, like we have been led to believe. Perfection is that squiggly line our toddlers draw across a piece of paper for the first time. It is in their smile, their pride in their creation. It is in our darkest moments, in our frustration, in our weaknesses. It is in the hope for the future, in the kindness of strangers. It is in simplicity and complications. It is the details, the moments in between the milestones.

My life is chaotic and messy. We have ups and downs, dark hours and hours of joy. The noise is deafening, the mess is maddening but, you know what? It is perfect. Even when my daughter is ignoring my words and I am trying my best not to vomit with morning sickness, it is perfect. It is perfectly imperfect and just the way I want my life to be. Every choice, every mistake, every moment has brought me to this place in time. To my family and my life. To me, that is perfection.

I don’t want a house out of a magazine, the ones all white and shiny and untouched. I want my 50-year-old house, with peeling paint and messy kitchen table. I want a sink full of dishes and a hallway that works as a megaphone for laughter. I want the mess because it shows that we are living our lives. We are having fun. We are not so focused on this crooked ideal of the “perfect home” that we loose touch with our dreams. We know that sometimes the perfect day is saying no to chores and yes to outside. Sometimes, it is saying no to outside and yes to chores. Either way, life fills these walls and no interior decorator could replicate that kind of perfection.

I don’t want the children with perfect hair and clothes. I don’t want pressed dresses and a scrubbed clean sheen. I love my dirty, happy, smiling child. I love her grass stained knees and her elaborate stories.  The smell of dirt and fresh air in her wild hair is tangible proof of her adventuring spirit. A spirit we nurture in the name of our own version of perfection. Not one we quash to achieve the ideal kid. To us, she is perfect.

Maybe our perfect is different than yours. I actually hope it is. That is the beauty in it all. There is no one-size-fits-all ideal for perfection. YOU make it what YOU want it to be. Maybe you want the magazine home and children. Maybe, to you, that seems impossible. But to me, perfection is achieved the moment your life takes your breath away and is renewed with every breathless moment thereafter. Every tear that is shed is an opportunity to relish the joys in life. How perfect is that?

Please, do not stop talking about how happy your life is. I will not stop sharing photos of the chaotic love we share, of the moments that make me melt into a pile of sobbing gratitude. Please do not look at a smiling mom or dad and think, “There is no way their life is THAT perfect,” because, to them, it may just be. I promise to also share in my challenges and my frustrations. I will give them the attention they need so that when the storm passes, I can see the rainbow with that much more relief.

With so much sad in the world, so much anger and hate, I choose to redefine perfection. I choose to see the opportunity for lightness on the other side of the dark. I choose to balance the good with the bad. I choose to live a life filled to the brim with gratitude and if it comes across as unbelievable perfection, I hope you choose to believe it. Believe it because I fought for my perfection. It is built on years of struggle and tears, disappointment and fear.

Believe it because it is mine, I made it. I believe in yours. This is our perfect, it is perfectly imperfect and messy as hell, let’s not change it for anything.

Adventuring

Adventuring is what we do. It is how we spend our time. The past few months have limited my ability to adventure much further than my own back yard. Now that the days are sunnier, the air is warmer, and I am having a few nausea free days, the adventures have resumed. 

Here is to a Summer of many adventures.