Category Archives: Odds and Ends

What’s Eating Up My Blogging Time?


Photo kindly from Molly Green Magazine, as part of a membership.

I wanted to tell here, at The Homeschooling Doctor, my story.  What is my story?  Well, it’s about a woman leaving behind an ordinary medical doctor career to stay home and homeschool her children.  It’s a story about her leaving behind expected medical doctor ideas to unearth new ideas (new to her anyhow) for health and healing.  And it’s a story of a struggle to align expectations with a gracious acceptance of reality.

I haven’t written for at least a couple of weeks for two reasons.  One, I’ve been following a new, interesting experiment to help put an end to my search for “complete health.”  You see, I’m pretty darn healthy.  But over the years, I’ve had intermittent headaches, foggy brain, vertigo, strange joint pains and swelling, abdominal distention/bloating, and chronic constipation.  I’m diligent, and I’ve visited the appropriate doctors.  The work-ups are really, overall, quite unremarkable.  So, I’ve chalked it up to stress or food or wear-and-tear and I’ve simply moved on, trying not to ruminate for too long on any of it–although I keep reading and reading because I love to learn and think about how this stuff may help myself or others.

By self-experimenting, I’ve found that if I eat a certain way, which coincidentally aligns fairly well with a vegetable-rich autoimmune Paleo diet, I can control about all my symptoms.  But to eat this way for life as a mother of four young kids who loves to travel, well, it’s pretty discouraging.  So, although I haven’t had time to write on it, over the last couple of years, I’ve been trying to budge off of “my diet.”  I mean, eliminating grains, nuts/seeds, dairy, eggs, legumes, chicken, and coconut is, in my own words, about stupid.  I’m not saying I’m stupid.  Or you’re stupid.  I guess I’m just saying that to eat that way long-term is almost, not quite, impossible.  Which means for people who have to follow this way of eating, makes feeling good day-in and day-out about impossible.  I’ve tried many of the leaky gut protocols.  I’ve considered Lymes and heavy metals.  I’ve fasted.  I’ve done broths.  Meditation and yoga.  I’ve sent love and acceptance to my gut and body.  Probably my first mistake was to pray about it–I think God thought it would be good for this run-of-the-mill, proud medical doctor to get shaken up a little.  Anyhow, I think the autoimmune diet protocols are awesome at controlling symptoms quickly, but somehow I can’t keep wondering if some of us who follow these protocols can’t move on.

(Please remember, this is all my story.  My opinions.  My thoughts.  I haven’t even organized my thoughts well in my own head.  So anything you read here, you need to read about more and ask your doctor about anything that you may want to try.)

Well, my blog posting and reading has been replaced since my last post here with reading a medical doctor’s work by the last name of Sarno on a syndrome he calls tension myositis syndrome and trying his techniques.  He suggests that lots of symptoms and syndromes in medicine are able to be overcome by some pretty simple processes involving reading his books, daily journaling, and daily introspective thinking.  He writes a lot about back pain and other musculoskeletal disorders (carpal tunnel, tendonitises, herniated disks, etc.), but I’ve decided to apply his techniques to my food sensitivities, which commonly cause me headaches, fogginess in my head, and bloating.  I cannot yet give a definitive answer to how it’s going, but I am broadening my diet.  I do not suggest that you try Sarno until you’ve hit the wall and tried “everything” or unless you’re a very open-minded person.  (And of course after you checked with your doctor about whether or not it’s safe to eat these foods or do these activities you avoid!  I’m not talking anaphylactic allergies here!!!!)  I’m open-minded, but I would not have even considered this man’s work at all when I started this journey in 2012.  His explanations seem bizarre to us doctors trained to look at X-rays, MRIs, and use known science to explain pain.  I’m early on in trying his techniques, but I think that the brain can override most processes in the body:  vascular, gastrointestinal, immunological, pain sensation, and so on.  Perhaps his methods are one way to achieve this end.  Bottom-line–I just wanted to let you know that the extra reading and journaling that are required daily have eaten up my blogging time lately.

The second thing that has cut into researching and writing for my blog is the time-constraints placed on a mom by, hmm, how should I say this–being a mom.  Ha!  I had completely forgotten how time and mom-consuming toddlers are!  I keep playing with our schedule and routine to find a way to write more, but success keeps eluding me.  I enjoy reading, summarizing this health stuff, and encouraging others so much, though, that I plan to persist on finding a way to keep in the game.  This week, we’re going to try having my daughters each pick meals to cook to see if I can’t decrease my kitchen responsibilities.  Maybe this will open up some more writing time.

That’s what’s been happenin’ here lately.  I didn’t link to Sarno’s work.  I figure if you’re at the point to try him, you’ll open a new tab and type his name in.  And I want to make it clear I don’t agree with all I read in his book, but so far with his methods, I’ve been able to abort most headaches, fogginess, and inappropriate tiredness as I move off of my autoimmune-style diet.  The methods stir up a lot of emotions and past family trash–so fair warning.

Happy Monday.  The day where we leave our rest and go find some good work to do.

And thank you, Molly Green Magazine Membership, for the lovely photo and quote to use at the beginning of this post.


Christmas Greetings From Our Family

Christmas greetings

This little light of mine, I’m gonna’ let it shine.

This little light of mine, I’m gonna’ let it shine.

This little light of mine, I’m gonna’ let it shine.

Let it shine.  Let it shine.  Let it shine…

I hope you are somehow blessed today, even if you’re hurting inside.

Thank you to those who have touched my life and the life of my wonderful family.

Eat right.  Eat real.

Live right.  Live real.

Be strong.

Merry, merry Christmas.







Bad Pancake Days

PancakesYou can usually tell what kind of day it’s going to be by your response to the breakfast pancakes.  I can remember watching my sister flip pancakes for the first time and how irritated she got.  Sometimes, it’s just not as easy as it looks.  The first pancake is usually sacrificed to heat and oil calibration.  It’s so ugly, nobody will eat the first one.  Then, on a good day, you get the temperature adjusted or add a little more oil, and you’re good-to-golden-pancakes go.  But some days, none of those blasted pancakes want to do anything right.  They fold and they burn.  You step away from the kitchen for a moment (or ten), and they’re scorched.  Toasted.  These are bad days; you can always see it coming.  The whole rest of the day is usually just trash.  All because of those stupid pancakes.  So much easier when everybody just eats bananas for breakfast.  Why do kids think they need pancakes?  Why?  They’re not even that healthy for you.

Today, I was having a bad pancake morning.  The kind where you wham your spatula into every single pancake in the pan to help it along on its destructive journey.  Wham.  Wham.  My first two pancakes wouldn’t flip and I was about to wham them.  Then, an unseen force held my arm in high swing: “Turn this day around.”  Hmmm.  Can I?  I stopped.  I critically analyzed the situation and decided to do three very logical, productive things:

  1.  Turn up the heat a little.
  2.  Make sure there was oil distributed where I poured pancake batter.
  3.  Get a bigger spatula.

Beautiful golden pancakes that my daughters adored all the way to the last bit of batter.

I’m busy.  I don’t want to make pancakes.  My heart isn’t in it. 

The pancakes know it, and they mirror that and self-destruct.  I’ve decided–those darn pancakes are simply an early day self-reflection of my attitude.  If I can turn my attitude around and analyze the situation early, my day will go a whole lot better.

Is there too much heat?  Too much stress.  Too much going on.  Maybe I need to turn it down.

Is there not enough heat?  Maybe I’m lackluster.  I’ve blowing things off that need me.  Maybe I need to get on the ball and throw myself into a situation.

Am I rushing in to flip too fast?  I’m too impatient.  Thinking I can hurry things along which just shouldn’t be hurried.  I need to back off, killer.

Am I filling up the time with other stuff, not flipping thus in time, and burning the pancakes?  I don’t seriously know why I think I can shower and make pancakes at the same time.  Why do I?  Why do I think I can take on so many things and then get frustrated when my family seems to implode?

Am I making them too big?  Sometimes, the stairway and mantle Christmas decorations need to be kept in the storage box for the year.  Or the tomatoes need to not be canned.  There are simply times to scale projects down.

Do I need more oil?  Sometimes, a little down-time and pampering are needed.  A little self-TLC (not THC).  If I don’t take care of myself, I won’t be caring for others.  And everybody needs me in their problems–you know, right?–ha!– so I’d better take care of myself!

Do I need less oil?  Sometimes I can drown in self-pity and self-entitlement.  Oh, me.  Oh, my.  Why-oh-why?  Probably days I can let that go.  Pancakes don’t do well with too much oil drowning them, and neither do I.

It’s not the pancakes.  It’s me. 

Slow down.  Speed up.  Lube life up a little more or a little less.  Turn up the heat.  Turn down the heat.  Stay focused on the pancakes and life will be golden.

Did you know that making pancakes could be such a challenging and thought-stimulating production?  This stay-at-home gig is better than a paid college course in psychology.  I never do know why colleges charge so much per credit hour.

What activity in your daily life is trying to tell you something?

What mundane activity in your life commonly reflects your inner mood?  Have any?  Care to share?


Keeping Busy With Small Steps

The Homeschooling Doctor logoI’m studying here now for my medical board recertification exam and teaching anatomy and physiology to our homeschool group’s middle and high schoolers.  I kept thinking I’d get a post typed, but reality is telling me I won’t be writing much until those things are wrapped up in mid-November.  Thanks for reading, and I can’t wait to write more on fats, slow transit, getting started on a food journey, another butyrate post, and more!

I wish you joy, peace, and contentment with what you have or what you don’t have, where you must go, or if you must stay, where you must stay.  Be brave and bold to do what must be done.  When life seems confusing, take small steps, always moving toward your goal.  Then, if you never stop taking those small steps, you will succeed.  Grand, sweeping efforts seem appealing and lovely, and are at times needed, but usually it’s our small steps that change our lives most and longest.

I look forward to writing again here as soon as possible, and I’m still fielding comments and questions as they come in here.  So, if you think of one, I’m still game to answer it!  And it doesn’t have to be “on the right post.”  They all come into the same in-box to the same person.  Take care.


Is That A Pebble In My Shoe?

Wittelsbach_diamond,_before_beeing_recut_by_GraffToday I went for a walk down an asphalt covered path.  It was a lovely day.  The late summer sun was bright and strong, yet the impending autumn season imparted a crisp coolness to the air.  I felt strong.  I felt good.  I breathed deep, receiving a fresh, renewing nourishment.

To my right, I saw a dirt path and decided to leave the asphalt, as the path was surrounded by more trees.  More natural quietness.  A creek.  You know, more real.

The first thing I noticed was more bugs.  Tons of fall-hatched grasshoppers hopping my way.  More mosquitoes.  Swat.  Swat.  Then, I noticed some dirt and pebbles slipping into my shoes.  I never can tie my laces tight enough to keep the dirt and pebbles out of my shoes on a dirt trail.  Ah.  But still!  What a lovely day!  Fill those lungs deep then a little deeper still.

But darn.  There’s a pebble too large to ignore.  I don’t want to stop and pause.  I want to keep going.  Niggle.  Niggle.  Perhaps if I shake my foot around I can dislodge the pebble to a better spot.  Shake.  Shake.  Step.  Step.  But no.  The pebble feels to be growing larger with each step.  This must be addressed.

I bend down and pull the shoe off.  I tilt the toe box up and over and drop the stone into my open palm.  A brilliant, beautiful diamond shines up at me, reflecting the beams of sunlight directly to my heart.

A lovely, easy path.  A more real, genuine path with some flaws.  A pebble that makes you stop.  A diamond.  Even diamonds can give you blisters.  But life’s diamonds bring you joy.

Who, or what, is your life’s diamond?  How could this story apply to your life this moment?  Or could it?

Me?  Yeah.  Definitely the kids.  Todays thoughtful post was brought to you by a screaming toddler in my house from the hours of 3 a.m. till 4:30 a.m.  Teeth?  Who will know.

But seriously.  Have a joyous day.  Go for a walk.  Swat some bugs.  Hug those you love.  Bask in something you worked hard to accomplish.  Did you walk too long on your diamond before taking it out to appreciate it?  It’s okay.  Find some Band-Aids.  Feel the warmth of life in your heart.  Give and smile.




Can You Still Make Kombucha From One You Buy At The Store?


A couple of months ago, kombucha frenzy was getting out of control in my house.  An inclination that just started with me escalated to the whole darn family.  That’s an expensive habit.  Even if it be a good one.  I mean, better than a Starbucks latte.  But who happily pays for five people to drink a coffee shop latte?  Not this mama.  Man.  You KNOW how expensive those things are.  Do you ever wonder why we pay those prices for that vice?  Because they make us beautiful?  Because they make us skinny?  Because they make us happy?  (Mmmm.  Got me on that one.)

I had to contain costs.  I like to go on vacation, and as much as my yahoos were drinking, they were going to dip into my vacation kitty.  Time to make my own. Why not just use the store brand?   I Googled it.  Our store carries GT’S brand of kombucha.  Somewhere it said you couldn’t start kombucha from GT’S brand anymore due to some changes somewhere in the recent decade.  Skip that thought.  Won’t waste my money on trying that way.  But I wanted to do this.  So, one day, I had five minutes to try to order a kombucha SCOBY or in real words, symbiotic colony of bacteria and yeast.  That’s the disgusting thing that floats in kombucha.  It’s alive.  Of course, there was a glitch and I couldn’t get PayPal man to do the deal.  So the deal blew up.  Over.  The window of opportunity missed.  Money kept flying out the window.

Who cares what the internet says?  Who cares what anyone says for that matter?  I marched into that big tall refrigerator at the store, and I bought myself the original, unflavored kombucha bottle with the biggest, nastiest looking floatie in the case.  I looked through them all.  That was the one.  If it was going to blossom, this was the bottle to do it.

I brewed up a gallon of green tea, because well, you know green tea is supposed to be super good for you.  And in a glass jar because you know plastic is bad for you.  I had some leftover sugar from my childhood.  I poured a cup in there to feed the beast.  I let my brew sit till it was room temperature so I didn’t kill that big nasty.  Then I realized I poured in too much tea and had no room for my kombucha.  So I dumped some out, getting sticky all over the counter.  Nothing I hate more than sticky floors and counters.  But now I had just enough room for the store’s kombucha and poured ‘er in.  I covered it with a paper towel and rubber band.  Perfect.  And let it sit.  It went through some ghastly changes, requiring me to Google “mold on kombucha” and “kombucha looks bad.”  I sat it out.  Apparently, some scoring action was going on in there and it was just making baby SCOBYs, which are uglier than their mothers.  Since it was cold still here on the tundra, I let it brew a long time till the SCOBY looked good and healthy.  No less than three weeks.  Then, we drank it.  It was good.

But there was fear from within my crew.  Are you sure it’s safe to drink?  (As safe as your germ laden tooth brush growing colonies in the dark medicine cupboard.)  Is it okay?  Why isn’t it bubbly?  It’s too sweet.  It’s too sour.  I don’t like the floaties in it.  I like it best carbonated.  Geesh back to the bubble thing.  Guys!  Come on!  Stop the mutiny!  No wonder it’s so hard to save money in today’s world.  Spoiled brats.

So I strained out the floaties.  I poured it into a GT’S bottle.  Put a little more sugar, lemon juice, and ginger in there.  Capped it tight.  Let it sit on Store klmbuchathe counter a few days to see if the thing would bubble in its new package.  Then stuck it in the fridge.

Mmmmm.  That’s good the family all says.

Thank you.

So, the moral of this story is that you CAN make kombucha using the SCOBY in GT’S brand still.  Maybe not consistently.  Maybe only from the original flavor.  Maybe only if you’re patient enough.  Don’t know.  But it can be done as of June 15, 2015.

Aside on kombucha:  I like the taste of kombucha.  I appreciate how many B vitamins are in there.  The B vitamin content is darn good.  I love the byproducts the probiotic Saccharomyces boulardii makes which helps us and our GI tracts.  However, all things must be evaluated on an individual basis, especially in people who are pretty immunocompromised.  Really would be best for these people to talk with their doctor before using it.  Personally, I just don’t feel tops drinking kombucha regularly.  I don’t know if it’s a cross-reaction between the yeast and something my body doesn’t like.  Or if it’s too much B vitamin activation going on for me.  Or changes in my bacterial flora as an effect of the kombucha.  Or if I’m just a crazy woman who thinks food can make me grow wings.  Or toxify me.  Anyhow, my family likes it and seems to do well with it.

Do you want a little science on this matter?  Here’s a link to an article about Saccharomyces boulardii (usually the main yeast in the SCOBY) helping mice reduce weight and inflammation:  Saccharomyces boulardii Administration Changes Gut Microbiota and Reduces Hepatic Steatosis, LowGrade Inflammation, and Fat Mass in Obese and Type 2 Diabetic db/db Mice. 

This is only a personal anecdote and not a how-to on making your own kombucha.  Go elsewhere for that!  But, for the record, growing your own SCOBY from a bottle of Original GT’S can be done.  Anyone else try their hand at making this stuff?  How’d it go?  Anyone die?  Anyone cure leprosy?

Today is Monday.  Mondays can be hard.  Hope yours is a good one!





What’s A Cat Who Can’t Hear?

Click here to listen to some music.  It’s Indiana’s (United States) state song.  A song from my childhood.

I was standing at our homeschool association’s annual track and field day event, chatting with another mom that I don’t know too well.  We got to talking about how both of our families had moved a lot, mine around the United States and hers around the world.  How we were both raised on family farms and had never moved until our college years.  How much we adore our childhood homes and families there.

She plied me with questions.  I’m usually the one full of questions, very intense, always hearing my mom’s voice in my head, “Terri, your questions scare people off…”  But there’s just too much to learn.  I can’t help myself.  So I was tickled when she began asking me thinking questions. Here is one she asked.

She said, “You’ve moved around a lot like we have with your kids.  How do you create HOME for them?”

How do you create home when you move around?  This girl and me, we’re Midwestern farmers’ daughter (..wehome make you feel alright..).  Home is the house.  Home is the land.  Home is the smell of the lilac tree at Mother’s Day.  The fields after a rain.  Your elderly neighbor Mabel sending you home with walnut laden cookies.  And you hate black walnuts but you love Mabel.  Your mom at the kitchen sink.  Your dad and his muddy boots.

Yes!  Yes!  That’s home!  For us, it’s scary to move our kids around.  Are we ruining them?  Robbing them of the stability we both experienced and treasured?  We talked together, she and I, and I thought I’d share.

How to create home when you have no home.

Work MUSIC into your lives:  My mom sang to me, lullabies, hymns and silly songs.  Her singing was angelic despite her tone deafness.  Her arms holding me.  Her vibrating voice against my ear on her chest.  Her rocking.  Her going about life with a song, in the car and doing dishes.  Oh, but it wasn’t just my mom!  Dad played music

all the time in the car.  Different music than Mom’s music.  Loud music.  Bob and Tom.  Q95.  ZZ Top.  Jethro Tull.  Always with his silly jokes tossed in.  “What do you call a cat who can’t hear?”

The music of home.  Music creates memories of home that travel through the years and spans all distance.

The comfort of ROCKING:  My husband and I debated this one out.  Is it the actual chair, or is it the action of rocking?  We decided it can be either.  But definitely the secure, strong, loving arms of mom, dad, or grandma rocking you feels good.  When pain in life arises, sometimes you look back to the haven of that time when you were secure, loved, and protected in the arms of a special adult who rocked your cares away.

If your kids will let you, rock them to provide them a memory of home nobody can steal.  If the chair can travel with you, take it.

Share MEAL TIMES AND SPECIAL FOODS: No matter where we live, we have to eat.  We’ve struggled a lot with food intolerances in our house, and it has taken away a lot of our old, favorite recipes.  I was afraid it would take away our “special foods.”  But it hasn’t.  We don’t sit around the table anymore with a pizza box in the middle, but you will find us sitting around the table eating together the work that our hands created.  New foods.  New combinations.  New favorites.

Eating together and sharing food has to be one of the top memories from home, and it’s easily transferred to any location!  Nothing stirs memories of home more than being greeted at the door by a home cooked meal.

Spending TIME TOGETHER OUTSIDE OR BEING ACTIVE:  Being together is home.  And to walk and be outside together in each environment you live in, appreciating it together, creates lasting memories.  I know in the future, my kids will say things like, “Do you remember how hot it got in South Carolina?”  “Do you remember how windy it always was on the prairie of South Dakota?”  “Do you remember that little park we always walked to in Lexington, Kentucky?”  I once remember the time my mom played tag with my dad, my sisters, and me.  She never played much with us, but this evening she played tag.  I remember it.

Home truly is people being together, in harmony with each other, doing things together.

in the fieldsVisit the FAVORITE PEOPLE WHO DON’T MOVE:  Although we’ve moved a lot, my parents have never moved.  There is something reassuring about this.  When we say we’re going home to visit them, my kids know exactly what that means and what they’ll be doing.  They know when we’re getting close by the landmarks.

Some people, some places are constant.  And sometimes, constants are nice.

No discussion is complete without RELIGION:  I have a young woman who helps me and feels like a part of our family.  She has lived in 27 different places in her less than 30 years of life, from Colombia, South America to Israel to New York.  Her religious background is pretty diverse too, but she relates to me that getting ready for synagogue together was important to her sense of “home.”  It was a constant in each place her family lived.  Getting ready each worship day together and going all together to the same place provides a sense of togetherness–a sense of continuity.  Discussing the lessons learned (or disagreed with) in the car on the way home further fuels that sense of family.

Years will pass, but we often (usually?) draw on the religious experiences of our families.

Celebrate HOLIDAYS:  Festive foods.  Festive activities.  Together.

Holidays travel with the calendar, not the location.  Or maybe they travel with your heart and you can celebrate the holiday any day you wish.

Have a favorite VACATION spot:  Even though we move around a lot, we often vacation to the same place each Black Hills, Roughlock Fallsyear to a treasured vacation spot.  Years from now, my kids may travel back with their families to see if “it’s the same.”

Home is where the heart is.  And vacation is always a good place to be.  Eh?


What do you think?  I hope my blog is found to be a place to share ideas and thoughts.  I would love to hear what you think about home.  Are people who move around a lot better at change?  Are people who don’t move more stable?  Does it probably not matter either way–and people just are who they are?  Is it important to instill a sense of “home?”  What instills a sense of “home” best?  How do you create “home” for your family?  Is home an “energy?”  If home is an energy, then are we all being called home?

And lastly, what is a cat who can’t hear?  Careful, it bites.

Happy June!


I Remember You, Mr. Bremler

wpid-IMAG0463-1.jpgHe was 89, and I was 18.  But I followed the tinkling tune of a piano, oh I was homesick for my piano.  I was homesick for anything that reminded me of home, six hours away.  I followed the tune from 8659 Apt. C down the stairs to 8659 Apt. B.  I knocked, and he let me in.  A little bald-headed man.  In a cardigan.  Yes, yes, do come in.  Oh, you must play for me, he said.  You must be much better than I.  His little gray-haired wife sat there, smiling, nodding.  Do come in.

I came into their lives that day, and they came into mine.  I received matzah bread spread with jam each Passover.  And halva.  I loved chocolate covered halva.  I received books on German and books in Hebrew.  I received rights to a piano any time my pharmacy studies would allow.

He a German Jew.  She a Russian Jew.  She giggled when we talked about eating pork.  She’d never eaten pork.

He fled Germany when Hitler was rising to power.  He left his family behind.  They had a little shop.  His family, they were all killed.  He told me you must forgive to move on.  One time our apartment complex’s newsletter listed the famous people born in the month of April.  Hitler was one of them.  Mr. Bremler was not pleased at the inclusion of Hitler as famous.

In America, he entered the Army.  He became a translator, fluent in German.  He ate pork.  You eat pork in the Army or starve, he told me.  Letters kept us in touch as I moved around the country.  I always remember the large black and white photo of Mr. and Mrs. Bremler, too large somehow for the walls of their tiny apartment.  Their faces young.

One day I was pulled up out of sleep sobbing.  This I have never done before.  I’m not privy to the supernatural.  But this night in my dream, Mr. Bremler died.  Mrs. Bremler had died years before.

Today is our American Memorial Day.

Memory requires you to look back.  But it is what allows you to move successfully forward.

Look back.  Move forward. Treasure and learn.

Keep Those Herbs at Hand


Keep the Herbs Handy

I like to use fresh herbs. But there’s been many a time that I’ve let them squander in the refrigerator drawer, wasted. I’ve taken to buying the two herbs I use most, parsley and cilantro.  To avert their tragic end, I now promptly wash them, cut off their ends, and put them into a cup of water. They sit cheerily on the counter, where I remember to snag some as I am cooking. Where do I use them? All over the place!

Parsley loves to be chopped or cut for soups, spaghetti sauce, baked cod and salmon, and on top of salads. If you serve potatoes and rice as side dishes, add some chopped parsley. Wherever you think the taste won’t interfere, add some! It also helps the kids get used to flecks of green in their food.

Cilantro gets cut and stirred into mashed avocado or served on top of cubed avocado. It accents soups. It adds a touch to a can of sardines. It, too, can easily be cut into a salad without overpowering the taste. Serve along side shrimp and other seafood.

In alternative circles, these two herbs are known for “detoxification.” They are reported to help with glutathione production (one of the most potent anti-oxidants in your body and made BY your body) and heavy metal chelation (like mercury). I’m not studied up enough to write on those factors yet, but I like these herbs and I know they offer anti-oxidants, calcium, vitamin C, vitamin A, and vitamin K.

I thought you might like to know how I make sure and incorporate a little of them into my diet and my family’s diet each day–and not let them waste in the fridge.

Preparation at a good time helps keep your perfect diet in motion at a bad time.

Did I mention that if you are in the midst of changing your diet to eat mostly fresh, whole foods, “YOU CAN DO THIS!”?  Don’t stop now!