So What ARE You Eating?

When I've told folks I am on a detox from sugar and all grains, they inevitably ask, "So what ARE you eating?"

Guided by Amy Thedinga www.amythedinga.com  I have eated quite well. I have not enjoyed all the prep and cooking I've had to do, but the food itself has been really good, with one or two exceptions.

Here's a sample:

Every morning I've had either a smoothie or a juice. I've started most with some kind of greens, be it spinach, kale or collard greens. I've had all sorts of veggies and fruits and added a bit of almond butter for protein.

HUGE DISCOVERY - Almond Butter - the kind that is just almonds and salt. DELICIOUS!

Snacks: I've had fruits, veggies and almond or peanut butter. I made kale chips once, but I wasn't THAT impressed.

Lunch: Often I've had leftovers from dinner - but I did make a kale/raisin salad that was wonderful, some quinoa/avocado tacos (in lettuce wraps) that I loved and a carrot/apple/pineapple slaw that was WONDERFUL.

Supper: I've had roasted chicken (my first time to roast chicken,) steak and round steak. I've made spinach salad and have had lots of veggie sides - steamed broccoli, boiled carrots, roasted squash, etc.

So overall I have eaten WELL. I am learning. I'm not perfect but I am doing my best to change our family's eating to be more healthy.

MOST of the recipes I've used have been from Amy Thedinga. She has an incredibly smart and good program to get you and your family eating clean. She is going to have an informational meeting next Wednesday, January 29th at 6:30. To get more information email Amy at info@amythedinga.com

Here's to us!

Observations after Clean Eating for One Week.

"I hated every minute of training, but I said, 'Don't quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.'"  Muhammad Ali

One week of clean eating detox – this means I’ve only eaten veggies, fruit and meat. No breads, no grains, no processed foods. My coach and advisor through this has been Amy Thedinga - her website is SO informative if you are curious about this: www.amythedinga.com

Observations after one week:

 1)  The first 3 days were hellish.

2)   I have no cravings – but my mind tells me that my pattern is to have bread or drink a coke, so I look for them automatically.

3)   To eat clean you need to cook and chop A LOT. I’ve spent more time in the kitchen this week than I have in years.

4)    I had no idea how much I live on processed foods. Simple things like Miracle Whip or Peter Pan Peanut Butter or crackers.

5)    I am learning about lean proteins. I’ve eaten a lot of chicken and I am trying to discover others.

6)    I have found the treasure that is almond butter. And being the food addict I am, I have to tell myself to not sit and eat a whole container at a time.

7)    God’s strength is the ONLY way I am continuing to do this. 

Find Your Swing

“…I have called you by name. You are mine…” Isaiah 43:1

I was next in line. My heart beat fast. I was about to meet one of my favorite writers, Anne Lamott. I approached. She glanced at me and then looked down to write her name in my book.

“Hi Anne, I love your writing.”

“Thank you.” She completed her signature. The next person swooped in and I walked off.

She didn’t recognize me. How dare she not know me? I knew HER.

Fast forward a few years. I was in line to get the newest cookbook from the Pioneer Woman, Ree Drummond. My friend Molly had saved my place in line for 3 hours. We approached the table. My heart beat wildly.

“Hi! I love you and your cooking!!” Uh-oh. I think I yelled.

She looked at me with a tiny flash of fear. Was I a stalker? On drugs possibly?

Molly swooped in and told Ree that she, too, was from Oklahoma. They shared a brief but lovely conversation while I stood to the side.

The Pioneer Woman didn’t recognize me. In fact, I think I scared her. J

Last Friday night I was the author signing copies of my novel, Cecelia Jackson’s Last Chance. The line was long, not like a famous author, but definitely thrilling for me. I knew 99% of everyone there, but those I just met, I made a special effort to greet.

But here is the deal that really surprised me. As much as I absolutely LOVED Friday night, it won’t be my “happy” place. I’m in counseling about food obsession and in one exercise we were asked to envision a place in our minds where we were perfectly happy and at peace. The first thought that came to mind was my swing outside on my balcony. Days I’ve sat there and been still have brought me such inner joy. When I swing there, Jesus is beside me. It’s the perfect place to just be and regroup and hang out with the Lord.

Fulfilling a life-long dream of having a book signing with a long line was fantastic. I thank Jesus for it all. But it’s not my “place.” It’s not where I find the ultimate joy. I thought it might be, but it wasn’t.

Publishing my first novel and all this attention that comes with it is temporary. I get that. And maybe that’s why it took me so long to get here. Maybe God was waiting for me to get the significance of the swing and the insignificance of the book signing. It’s the difference between seeking approval from others and finding approval from the One. He is truly what matters to me more than anything. Don’t get me wrong, I want all of you to buy several copies of my book and tell me you liked it. J But if you don’t, if no one buys this novel and it gets buried in a garage sale table, that is okay.

While someone digs through those books for a quarter each and picks up mine and thinks, “It looks okay for 25 cents,” I will be sitting on the swing with my Lord. And it will be enough because He always recognizes me.

He always recognizes you, too. Find your swing.

(If you want a signed copy of Cecilia Jackson’s Last Chance, order it through my website, www.robbieiobst.com. Otherwise it is available on Amazon. It is a wonderful Christmas present.)

You are invited!! Next Friday, November 15th - Book Launch party for my 1st Novel!

It Always Starts with a Dream!

My first book

My latest book

I’ve always been a dreamer. Back in Van Horn, Texas, my family lived on Summer Street, which in the 70’s was called the New Addition. On Summer Street in front of my house, I would roller skate for hours up and down the sidewalks, dreaming. I had the roller skates that required a key. (Wish I'd kept them.)

In those dreams I was Robbie Walton, John Boy’s wife or Robbie Brady, the 7^th of the bunch. I was the Jacks Champion of the World, when I had time to compete, because of course, I was also the Roller Skating Gold Medalist, narrowly beating the East German competitor.

My dreams were my friends and we hung out a lot.

In all those days, though, I never once dreamed of being a writer. (Speaking is another story – I think I’ve wanted to be a speaker since I was 8 years old.)

Writing was what I did in my diary – the most boring diary ever written, by the way. 

 February 16th - Nothing happened.

But I would write songs for Donny Osmond since I knew it was only a matter of time before he came to Van Horn and asked me to join the group. I’d be ready. Writing was also what I did in making up little skits for our Girls in Action group at church or later on, our youth group.

I just did it and continued to do it in my many, many journals and in writing skits and plays for church and school. But I never dreamed that it would BE anything.

Then came Noah.

I was blessed to be able to stay home with Noah for a while here and there during his early years, but as he grew up and started preschool, my heart starting hurting. I didn’t like him being at after school care for so long and my long rehearsals after school with drama got to be draining.

God was changing my mind and my heart about my chosen vocation – teaching.  During a high school chapel service led by Chapin Marsh, God called me to start dreaming…about writing.

I thought, well why not write a novel? Naively I thought it would be no big deal. I’d taught English for years. Noah was two.

Today Noah is fourteen and yesterday I received boxes of my first novel, the same one I began when he was two. I’ve rewritten it at least ten times and it’s been rejected somewhere around 20 times. And in the last twelve years, I’ve dreamed of opening that box thousands of times.

It all started with dreaming – God-called dreaming. Then came the choice to actually sit down and write. Next the choice, covered by lots of prayer, to endure and persevere, when editor after editor and editor said no.

Today as I looked through my novel, I prayed a prayer of gratitude to the Father. And my mind went back to that little girl on Summer Street. She didn’t dream of writing, but she dreamed. She exercised her imagination which was the foundation for every fiction story or book I’ll ever write.  

Now That's a Knife!

My husband was raised three blocks from the Pacific Ocean in Redondo Beach, California. He is not a surfer or a tree hugging liberal, but he is definitely a Californian through and through. Even though we now live in Colorado, we are still self-proclaimed weather wimps and the informal feel of shorts and a polo shirt could easily be John’s uniform of dress for the rest of his life.

               

When he married me, a Texan, he received some kidding from my siblings and especially my dad. 

“So you’re a Yankee?” My dad asked him with a hint of a smile.

“No, sir, I am from California.” John replied.

“Yankee.” Daddy stated this as if the matter were settled for all time.

                

At my father’s funeral, I am positive Daddy watched from heaven and let go that loud laugh of his. There was one particular moment at the funeral I am positive Daddy watched from heaven and let go that loud laugh of his. 

I have to back track for a minute.

We drove from San Diego, California to Van Horn, Texas for the funeral. On the way I drank Cherry Lime Sodas we had bought in San Diego and put into an ice chest.  I liked them poured over ice in a cup. To finish up this cocktail of choice I would squeeze a fresh lime on top and then put the cut up pieces of the lime into the drink. Just delicious! 

Round about Yuma, Arizona I decided to have my first Cherry Lime. However, we had no knife to cut up the limes. No problem, John indicated he would pick up a knife at the next gas stop.

              

And he did. He bought a 99 cent little pocket knife at a truck stop somewhere in Arizona. The little ¾ inch blade did the trick and I enjoyed my beverage of choice as we traveled through the desert.

Fast forward to the cemetery. We had just finished the short service and people were beginning to say goodbyes to those who had to leave immediately. Lots of hugs going around.

My stepmother asked a question about an arrangement someone had given. It was a welding helmet attached to flowers. (My dad was a welder.) “I would surely love to take the welding helmet home with me.  Let’s leave the flowers but I want to take the helmet home.”

                

A couple of folks proceeded to pick up the helmet. However, it was attached in some way to the big bouquet of flowers.

Loreen asked another question. “Does anyone have a knife to cut this?”

                

My husband is a servant. Of course he stepped up with five or six other men, and he proceeded to proudly pull out his 99 cent pocket knife to help out the poor widow.

As soon as he did, he noticed the other five or six knives. 

Not a 99 cent one in the bunch. Nope, these were knives three or four times larger than John’s lime slicing deluxe model.

Quickly as he could, John stepped back and as inconspicuously as possible slipped his knife back into his pocket.

                

From heaven above I am sure that my Daddy laughed. “Yankee.”

You can preorder my first novel, Cecilia Jackson's Last Chance, today!