The Five Things I Remember About Elementary School

1. Oregon Trail.  WHAT IS UP original computer game!  No, children of the 90s, I do not mean "video game," I mean computer game - and not World of Warcraft.  Oregon Trail was this amazing invention that was not an invention at all because it actually happened once in America's history.  It was both educational and wildly entertaining.  What I learned from this brilliant game was that their were some people that moved north with carts carried by oxen.  The highlights of the game were when fires broke out destroying all 80lbs of your food and your fictional sister broke her arm. Usually when the broken arm screen popped up, your elementary self was all, "I have a sister?"  Most of the historical accuracies included that hunting was the most entertaining part of the journey, and everyone died of dysentery.

In this screen shot, you are obviously about to die.  But you should still press the arrow keys to "look around."

2. Time Out.  I used to get put in time out frequently in elementary school . . . or whatever version it was back then. Sometimes I just had to move my flag from the green "safe" zone to the yellow "warning" zone.  What was I doing that was causing me to be so wildly disruptive in class? Punching? Kicking? Swearing? Oh no . . . I was singing.

3. Boys sucked.  This knowledge was not exclusive to elementary school.  It followed me for most of my life.  But boys in elementary school can be pretty cruel.  As a girl they wouldn't throw me the football. Actually, as I am typing this and reflecting, I am realizing maybe that wasn't because I was a girl. Perhaps it was because I lacked any athletic skills.

4. Re-enactments.  One year, this teacher wanted us to get an idea of what it was like to hunt for food.  In order to do this, she took us outside and separated the class into the hunters and the "wildebeests."  She then told us that the strategy used by tribes was to find the weakest and slowest member of the heard, separate it from the pack and then take it out with your bow and arrow.  She then proceeded to duct-tape a bag of candy to me and gave the "hunter" half of the class water balloons.  I'm not kidding.

5.  Power Rangers.  Every day of lunch in the third grade I pretended to fight the janitor who came to empty our trash under the guise of being the pink ranger.  I KA-RA-TE chopped and kicked and said lots of "hay-yas."  To this day I can still remember all 5 original characters and who replaced them.  I also have all the McDonald's power ranger happy meal toys and their zords.  I was told not to brag about this today by my co-worker.

Billy, Kimberly, Jason (later Rocky), Trini (later Ayesha), Zach (later Adam)

Fruits of My Labor

Well as a follow up to the other night's baking extravaganza, I feel I owe the interweb a review of my masterpiece.  Note that the recipe was courtesy of The Wheat Belly Cookbook.

It does not taste like cardboard or twigs as I imagined.  It did, however, try to kill me.  Now, you may be thinking, "Morgan, we all know you tend to have a flair for the dramatic," which, you know, is true.  But this was real LIFE.  My mouth did not have enough saliva produced to move the bread from my teeth to my belly without pausing for awhile at the top of my esophagus.  For those of you without a medical degree, this means I was choking.  Badly. Like grabbing my throat and scrambling to a glass of water, so I didn't drop dead on my kitchen floor with the entire loaf of bread still to eat.  I have an ongoing theory that it was a density problem.

When I took a second bite, saw my life flash before my eyes again, and then really tasted my creation, I thought, "It needs peanut butter."

I will obviously need to proceed with caution, always making sure I have a trained supervisor who can perform the Heimlich around during consumption. But overall, I feel that I have made one small step towards a healthier lifestyle, that won't kill me . . .like the vegetables* attempted to. . .

* Look I am making a foot note for the vegetable story . . . is this how you make footnotes?
June 16, 2014: So last week I purchased some healthy snacks and put them in the fridge at work. Today, when I pulled out my pre-packaged celery and carrots with a hummus pack on the lid, I noticed the bottom of the pack bulging a little. Being curious, I poked the bulging carton only to be greeted with a noise like a gun shot, a tiny hummus container launched into my face and the general explosion of vegetables and their filth all over me and the table. Shocked, I looked up to see the 3 other people in the kitchen staring at me in horror. It just proved what I have always known. Given the chance, vegetables will kill you

Saturday Night Date

Tonight (Saturday) I spent the evening with the love of my life.

Usually presented to married couples by people who love them most, I was given my Kitchen Aide mixer two years ago for Christmas (I guess nobody was feeling overly optimistic on my marriage prospects).  Though we don’t spend copious amounts of time together, when we do see each other, it’s usually delicious.

This particular night as I whipped egg whites until they became fluffy (this was news to be BTWs) I contemplated life’s biggest mysteries.  Like why are carbs so delicious and does Lea Michelle work?  The first though was brought on by my recent venture into the world of gluten-free living.  5 days in, I don’t hate it, but I also haven’t been staring down the barrel of a large pizza.  When that day comes, my commitment shall surely be tested. 

The second I contemplated because I follow(ed) her on Instagram, and I’m 100% certain all she does is travel to exotic places and have people take pictures of her from behind.  

I'm just saying, I count four "casual shots from behind," and two different trips in one screen shot.  But I digress.

I have started The Wheat Belly Diet by . . .well I can’t remember who it is by.  Anyways, in an attempt to have some semblance of an enjoyable life, I am currently whipping up a batch of essentially carbohydrate-free bread.  I am almost 100% certain that is will taste cardboard and small twigs.  But after laying on the couch for 10 hours straight today, I decided there was nothing more exciting than dirtying every single pan and appliance in my kitchen at 9:00 at night.

I just pulled this bark loaf out of the oven, and we are having a staring match as it cools.  Who will blink first?  What will it taste like? Why does it look a little like wet dog food?  The adventure continues. . . 

This is how I think when I am left alone for too long.