Squaw Valley Ski Bums

I have not written in a long. Long. Time. (periods added for emphasis, not grammatical correctness.)

That's the biggest problem with procrastination: the longer you put something off, the harder it is to do. However, there is WAY too much to say, so I am going to attempt to throw off writer's block and put down some of these memories.

March has been the best month of my life. I am prone to say things flippantly, but I am serious and thoughtful about this. Never have I felt so much peace and contentment, been so fulfilled and productive, or so happy about the future. I can't really pin point an exact reason, but I am just soaking up this blessed time--aware that trials won't hold off forever.

As some of you know, we left the last week of February to Tahoe City--two cars, a trailer, tons of snow gear and a bunch of die hard skiers. Due to snow conditions, we hadn't skied much the past couple years and we had kind of forgotten how much we loved to ski . . . we did remember that it was something to be excited about. We forgot it was addicting.

The first couple days, snow fell slowly and surely--4'' here, 8'' there.

 Despite Tahoe's horrible snow year, we managed to have 6-7 powder days (which totally made our passes worth it). When the snow stopped, we practiced synchronized skiing, like Daddy used to do with his siblings. Total blast. Since we wear matching jackets, people kept asking if we were a team, and soon we knew every regular on that mountain!

It was awesome to feel like a local.

We eventually tried the park. Can't believe we left it alone for so many years! A bunch happened there that I cannot put into words.

My feeling of ecstasy as I landed my first 360. Karaline's excitement at making the landing on her first 25 foot table. Kelsey's terrified face as she watched the large landing fade away before she dropped 20 feet onto hard snow. Daddy and Kimmy's grins as they learned the rails. Kyla's rapid fist pumps after her successful grabs.

And then, there was my stomach churning as Baylor launched upside down and . . . stopped. He learned a lot from the mistakes he made on his first backflip attempt and his broken collar bone reminds him to pick a better jump next time.

It was such a blast to ski hard in the morning, rat packing down chair lines and trying to follow Daddy's lines down "bump runs."I don't know what it is about skiing with your family, but it's amazing--a feeling I don't ever want to forget.

"This puts life into me!" Daddy shouted.

Anything for Daddy… ;)

In the afternoons, the older kids, Daddy, and Mother would ski with the younger half. I felt like a proud parent (actually, more like a proud sister) as I watched Bentley laying down carves and Barrington and Kinsey race down the hill. Those kids have no fear.

That scares the rest of us.

Our time was even more rad when our longer-than-life-friends (our parents were friends before they were married), the Williams, came to Tahoe for their ski races. These guys are the real deal and skiing with them made us feel that all the skill we had gained was nothing. As always, we had a great time learning from them and fellowshipping. Our Uncle Tim, Aunt Brenda, and all my darling red-headed cousins stopped in as well and we had a wonderful Sunday strolling by the lake, building rock sculptures and chatting while eleven kids splashed like crazy in the small Jacuzzi. When Brendan Stevens came and hung out we had a blast skiing, snowball fighting, and sharing a massive burger (that fed 14 of us) . . . the "GNAR BURGER." Good times.

Okay. So just one more highlight: the moonlit snowshoe trip with my parents and us four oldest. It was quite the trudge on the way up a small ski mountain, but on the way down we flew. Bay discovered that by sitting down we could haul down the freshly groomed runs.

The problem was stopping.

Screaming and laughing we'd race until it felt like our snow pants were melting, then we'd dig in our ski poles for all we were worth--and keep going, and going, and going. As most of you know, Daddy is a dare devil (with wisdom) and he lets us take risks, but I had never seen him get mad about us doing something crazy until we skidded out of control down that hill. It was thrilling, terrifying, and memorable all in one. We enjoyed counting our bruises the next day.

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Before Tahoe helped us understand helmets are a crucial part of one's ski gear. 

Wow, guys. So this is the fourth weekend in a row I have tried to post this. If this seems disjointed, that may be why. =)

To sum up, our ski trip was pretty much--no definitely--the best thing that ever happened to me. Our family drew SO much closer as we learned new skills together, challenged each other, and pushed each other to new heights.

Family is amazing ya'll.

I am beyond blessed to have parents that leave the status quo in the dust, and beyond beyond blessed to get to live with my best friends every single day!!!

Entrepreneurial Escapades (by: Kelsey)

So, some of you guys know my sister Kelsey is an amazing musician. Some of you know she is stellar at ping pong. Some of you know she's a great cook, has fantastic humor, and is a killer athlete.

But did you know she is an extraordinary writer? (I know, she's good at everything. . .)

This past year, I have had the privilege of being Kelsey's English teacher. It has been so rewarding to watch her grow and develop her skills in written communication. Full of raw talent and humor, Kels makes my job super easy and makes me look like a pretty good teacher.

 Anyways, last week, I asked my class to write a 500-800 word story about an experience they had. When Kelsey read hers I just knew I had to share. I laughed when she told me about her experience last summer, and I laughed even harder when she described it on paper. Below is her finished draft, along with some insight  from Kels on being an entrepreneur.

She's hilarious.

 Entrepreneurial Escapades 

            “Today is the day I go from being a pauper to a prince!” I announced at the breakfast table one sunny summer morning.

            By this, I meant that today would be the day I would start my milk business. I was as confident as David facing Goliath and as inexperienced as a bird that has not yet left the nest. After breakfast, I eagerly went “all out” and made some of my world-famous-Kelsey-original-chocolate-chip cookies, determined to make the day a success.

            “Load up!” I called to my two little siblings, whom I recruited for the sole purpose of adding the “cute factor” to my operation.

            Rummmmmmm. Our truck engine rumbled to life and off we roared. I was prepared to conquer the world—so I thought.

            Thump, Thump, Thump.

            I boldly gave the door three hearty whacks with the dingy, brass knocker. Impatiently, I waited with pitcher in one hand and a plate of uncovered cookies in the other. My two siblings stood timidly behind me. The whole idea of selling milk to strangers was still a little daunting to them. Finally, someone opened the door.

            “What do you want?” crabbed an overweight, pajama-adorned woman.

            I noticed the cupcake design on the flannel pajama bottoms.

           

            “I’m here to offer you some of the best raw cow’s milk in Wasco County. No hormones, Klarabelle is grass fed, non-GMO, not treated with rBST and the best thing about it is it’s 100% organic. Good for you and good for the planet!” I crowed.

            The lady appeared unmoved by my thrilling speech even though I offered her my most salesman-like smile. She must have been kind of interested though, because she grudgingly called one of her grungy children to come taste it.

            “Here you are!”  I said enthusiastically, thrusting a half filled paper cup of the liquid toward him. I watched as he took one swallow of the milk and made a face like I’d given him poison. He muttered one word “Yuck!”

            His cupcake-clad mother grunted, “Not interested,” and slammed the door.

            Needless to say, I didn’t make the sale.

            Stop number two, three, four, five and six generated similar results but my hopes were still as high as a soaring eagle. I comforted myself with the saying that “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” or in my case, fortune was not made in a few hours.

            Sticky summer smells wafted to my nose, reminding me of a hamburger cookout. Flies buzzed around my head, and the now warm jug of milk, as I approached my seventh house.

            Knock, knock, knock! I was cordially greeted by a woman who looked like she was attempting to be Ms. America—forty years too late. She was all sparkles and glam—the full package, complete with face-lift, hair extensions and fake nails. I knew at first glance the idea of raw cow’s milk would sound a little too natural to this fine specimen of cosmetic confection . . . hmm, I mean perfection. Nevertheless, I gave her my sales pitch.

            My suspicions were confirmed when she replied in a sugar coated voice, “Not today, honey.” The flutter of her long, false eyelashes and gushy smile made me sick. It was my turn to mutter “yuck” as I turned away.

            Six discouraging stops later, I was beginning to wake up to reality. Things weren’t working out the way I had hoped. As I marched down Main Street to my last stop, a friend drove by and waved. I felt kind of dumb trudging around town with my cookies, milk, and two siblings. Especially when all I had to show for my effort were some tired children, a few less cookies, and what I thought at the time: wasted sweat and energy.

           

            However, I was still persistent. A little too persistent. I’m sure I knocked on some back doors when the front ones didn’t open. I also applied my knocking abilities at one unlucky individual’s door for at least a minute and a half before a very disgruntled old man answered my call. He looked as big and angry as a bear that has just come out of hibernation.

            “Would you be interested? ” I asked sweetly before giving him my spiel.

            What a spiel it was! I had it down by this time and it rattled off my tongue as smooth as butter.

            “No thanks, kid!” was the angry reply.

            He slammed the door and I imagined him ambling back to his den to finish the nap I had obviously interrupted. Slowly, I trudged back to the truck discouraged, and broke as ever.  In the truck cab, my two weary followers and I sat in stony silence, mourning the loss of prosperity.

            Suddenly, I shattered the silence with an explosive laugh.

            “What’s your problem,” muttered Barrington sullenly.

            Grinning at my surprised siblings I chirped, “No worries guys. There’s always next time. Wanna cookie?”

             As I thought about the day’s events, I decided I could look at my first entrepreneurial escapade in two different lights. I could see it as a complete failure, or I could see it as a learning experience (the later being the wiser of the two options.) Even though I didn’t succeed in recruiting one customer to my cause, I learned many wonderful life lessons such as putting my best foot forward, investing in presentation, and putting myself in a larger market where I had a better chance at being accepted. This little adventure has just added more fuel to my entrepreneurial fire, and only deepened the desire I already had to succeed.

Happy Valentine's Day!

What do you think of when you think of Valentine's Day?

Love, chocolate, roses?

For me, many images pop into my mind. I think of those over-achieving grade-school years, where Kyla, Kelsey and I decided to make valentines. The first three took about four hours--glittery, lacy, works of art. The next five minutes were spent haphazardly hacking out twenty-seven construction paper shapes (faintly resembling hearts) and writing "Happy Valentine's Day" till my hand was forever cramped around my pen--desperately wishing I didn't have so many friends.

Then, of course, I think of love. An overabundance of love.

I picture waking-up, expecting a normal day, to notes with Mother's handwriting and treats posted where we do our chores. Sleepy-eyed, wandering into the kitchen and seeing a cheerful banner, our infamous red table cloth, fancy breakfast, and a sparkly valentine at each plate. Mother's handiwork.

I picture the giant bouquets of roses Daddy buys Mother. The unique cards, sweets, and experiences he surprises her with. Then too, the many years of valentine cards I have received from the one who has my heart. Daddy has always made each of his girls feel so loved on this special holiday, right down to the roses or chocolate bar we share.

But this year, something was missing.

Here I am, the recipient of devotion, yet how am I sharing the love I have to give? I am a girl brimming with grace and God's love, so why am I not sharing it?

Forget that. This year, I decided, was going to be different.

It was different! Oh, how delightfully, beautifully different!

Getting Ready to "Show the Love." (We have so many pictures in front of our staircase. It's just so picturesque you know? (Side note: Kinsey has turned smiling into a science…apparently she has the same feelings about that subject as I do.)

Valentine morning was spent in a whirlwind of glue, glitter, stickers and the smell of something chocolate wafting through the air. By the time Kelsey slid the melting fudge brownies out of the oven and I had completed my duties as scribe (yes, my hand had a cramp), there were five fat stacks of carefully crafted valentines.

Let's just say, that in this case, beauty was in the eye of the maker.

Bentley's valentines looked liked the remains of a third World War. He was so pumped about his chaotic mess of black and red. Kinsey's had every sticker in the neighborhood overwhelming one small heart, and a couple of the older girls could not get enough glitter.

Later that afternoon, cellophaned plates of brownies, valentines, and ukuleles in hand, ten of us piled into our six-seater truck ready to embark on our "Show the Love Tour." At our first stop, we piled out looking like a lost circus or carolers that forgot what time of year it was.

Creak. The door slowly opened.

"Happy Valentines!" We chorused.

Ah. I fear we startled our poor elderly neighbor. After quickly explaining our presence, the kiddos swarmed through the door and crammed into the mobile home's tiny entry. All except Bentley, that is. After shoving his valentine into Violet's face, he ran into the living room and plopped himself on the couch--watching TV.

While Kimmers and Kloe played and sang a duet on their ukes, I had flashbacks to Mother and Daddy making us older ones sing at random times  in hotels or restaurants. Now, here I was, pushing the younger girls outside their comfort zones. Funny how time changes things.

Our little tour was short and sweet. We visited three widows and a few other neighbors who have blessed us a lot over the past few years. It was such fun parading around town surprising neighbors and reminding them they are loved. There are very few things more enjoyable than making someone's day, and this was one of the best Valentines I have ever had!

To all my siblings…Thanks for being the most gung-ho troopers ever. I know wearing an itchy dress and tramping around the rain isn't everyones' idea of a good time. I know it's hard getting woken up from your nap and being told to be a cheerful ball of love. I know jumping on every bandwagon your  sister tells you is "a great idea" isn't easy. But you guys do it! I am so grateful we find joy in squishing into cars and breaking out of our comfort zones together. I love you.

Happy Valentines!


Kathryn Joy

Happy 2014 From the Johnsons

Just another Sunday in Dufur.

Happy 2014, Dear, good friends,

It's that time of year, where we take out our pens.

And in effort, to share a bit of God's grace,

We've penned a fine poem, (rather long, in this case).

Livin' in Dufur has not been a bore,

We've been traveling so much we're barely there no more.

From CO to AZ and all in-between,

"Jump in the van! There're things to be seen!"

All of us Kiddos are still growin' strong,

Even Kordelia is comin' along.

She toddles, and teeters, tells us what to do,

Comin' June, she'll be turnin' two.

Bentley's up next, that little scamp,

At four-years-of age he light's our world like a lamp.

With smiles abundant and yackative mouth,

He cuddles and jabbers, and does school with Kels.

Kinsey's a wonder, at six years old,

She's confident, smart, and tremendously bold.

Helping, and playing, an inquisitive mind,

"Can I smother, Kordi in love? Would she mind?"

Who is the boy with the freckles and grin?

Playing the fiddle and feeding the hens?

Barrington, Barrington, Baylor's right hand,

At the ripe age of 7, he's becomin' a man.

Kloe's the artist, the rest of us try,

Nine in November, boy does time fly.

She delights us with twinkly eyes and sweet face,

Serving and loving with fairy-like grace.

Kimberly Paula, keeps us all on our toes,

Climbin' 100 foot trees (no joke)…goodness knows.

Slacklinin', rope swings, athletics galore,

Piano and schoolwork, busy with chores.

Who's the queen, slender and tall?

That'd be Karlaine, 12, knitter of all.

With schoolwork in hand, she organizes the day,

Everyone loves her creative way.

Who's the man? Runnin' the farm?

Chadwick Baylor, 14, buff arms.

Protecting us womenfolk, raising cattle,

Chopping wood, everything aeronautical.

Just like Daddy, Bay was born to fly,

With all his study, he'll soon be up in the sky.

Sixteen-year-old Kelsey, where to begin,

She's cooking and driving, and racking up wins.

A volleyball hitter and ping-pong fanatic,

She works hard, plays piano, and is superbly spasmodic.

Kyla is seventeen going on twenty,

Baristain' it up and is bringin' home money.

Cello's fantastic, so was being a setter,

Takin' third at State has never been better.

Katie's 19, still pluggin' away,

Lookin' forward with joy to graduation day.

Writing papers and music, an idea machine,

Teaching Math, English, and Fiddle and lots in-between.

As for our parents, well, they're doin' fine,

Goin' to Hawaii, then Arizona for some special time.

Daddy is flying, and bringin' home dough,

Learning to relax and slow down. You know?

Filling each of our love tanks is never easy,

But we think he's first rate (at the risk of sounding cheesy).

Mother's still vibrant and full of life,

Loving her children, being a supportive wife.

Taking cooking classes to improve her already amazing skills,

She still loves singing, and spending time with her girls. (and boys)

All in all, 2013 has been grand,

Best wishes to each of you, Woman and Man.

May this year be filled with blessing and fun,

Praise be to Jesus, GREAT things He hath done!

Love,

The Chad Johnson Family

Kathryn (19)  &  Kyla (17)

Kelsey (16)

Chadwick Baylor (14)

Kimberly (11) Karaline (12) Kloe (9)

Christian Barrington (7) Kinsey (5)

Conrad Bentley (3)

Kordelia (Kordi) 18 months

Chad and Jenise (ages N/A)

**Copyright. All rights reserved by "Kathryn & Kyla Creative Genius Inc." 2014.

Back to Blogging! =)

Hey, it's me again--Katie.

Yes. The Johnsons are still alive.

It goes without saying that I have not felt much inspiration to write, recently. To be more specific, I have not been inspired to blog. This is partially due to experiencing memories instead of writing about them. In part, a result of all my "writing time" being spent filling up journals as I sort my thoughts.

To be sure, I have had plenty of those. As the New Year rolled around, I watched blogposts pop up right and left, detailing inspirational goals and strategies for this fresh new season in our lives. I tried to write my own, yet I just couldn't find the right words.

As I looked back on December, November, then this whole past year, thoughts swirled through my head like a churning, Midwestern snowstorm. Still caught up in the flurry of 2013's ups and downs, mountain-top experiences and dark valleys, I could barely see clearly to make decisions in this bright, clean New Year. So, I set blogging aside and wrote in a more private fashion.

While I processed and examined life in general, I read through this blog and was so encouraged by God's faithfulness. I am still quite unsure about what this year holds, but I now have the clarity I so desperately wanted at the beginning of this year. God is in control and I cannot wait to see what He has in store for me!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes a New Year can be kind of daunting, you know? Like a fresh sheet of paper, void of words, just waiting for thoughts to overflow into inky characters. Sometimes we cling to what we know, where we are comfortable. In an effort to not "mess up" we never take those first steps.

But this year, like many of you, I am challenged to break the ice in some fresh ways.

As the oldest child, ice breaking has not been optional. I am an ice breaking machine. And often, anytime I am breaking the ice for ten cheerful followers, my parents are breaking the ice alongside me. It's been a position that I wouldn't trade for the world but, as can be expected, there have been a few frigid moments.

All that to say, I don't just want to break any old ice, I want to be purposeful about what I am putting my hand to do. 2013 flew by. 2014 will be gone before I know it. What do I really want when this year is done?

Obviously school is a priority. It's time I finally put my hand to the wheel and finish what I started. But, life is more than a degree. I want more than a sheet of paper at the end of 2014. Why do I want my degree anyways?

Working out, stretching, eating right, these are all good goals. But why? So I can pull out the splits at some opportune time, or know that I have a six-pack?

Finding creative ways to make money. Well, that's a necessity…if I want a car. Why do I want a car?

Why am I doing what I'm doing? Why am I pursuing these goals? Why am I spending this year's precious moments in these particular ways?

Eventually, the Lord opened my eyes to why each of these things are important. Not because I need to feel smart, or look good, or have a fat wallet. It is because each one of these areas provides me with a key.

Invaluable keys.

Keys to open the only two doors I really care to open. Keys to the only things that really matter in this world.

Experiences and Relationships.  

At the end of this year, the only things I will hold in my hand and heart are the experiences I have had, and the people I love. That's why I do the things I do. So I can expand my horizons, and have unique memories with the ones who color my world.

How simple is that?

However, it's a tougher goal than it sounds. So often I can get hopelessly caught up in groping for a key, that I miss the doors of opportunity already opened to me. I can't go on a bike ride with the kiddos because I am working out. Are you kidding me? That's why I need to stay in shape. I can't help the girls with math because I am busy studying to be a teacher. Really?

This year, I challenge you. Slow down. Take time to revel in those sweet moments and treasure those fading sunsets. Don't forget why we do the things we do, or what really matters in life. Because, after all, we never know how long these moments will last.

A Week Without Parental Supervision

This Sunday when we walked into church without our parents, the greeter asked, "Who's crazy enough to babysit eleven kids [for six days]?"

Kyla laughed, "We are!"

Yep. Daddy pulled off an amazing surprise for our parents 20th anniversary and flew Mama (and him, obviously) to Hawaii without her knowing it. I mean, she figured it out. Eventually. Anyways, that left eleven of us home! (the term "home alone" does not apply for obvious reasons).

All dressed and curled for church. Ky and Kels are regretfully absent due to Kelsey helping lead worship. 

What a bonding experience this past week has been! Not only was this our longest time alone together, but it was the first time one of us girls was out of the home a lot. You see, Ky got a job working at Grinders, an awesome coffee shop. During her days at work I realized just how much she does when she's home!

During our week, Ky planned a hilarious and creative treasure hunt for us all!

Baylor: "We made some sweet bow and arrows that shoot about forty yards. Katie wouldn't let us shoot them inside the house which was kind of lame. But she let us drill each other outside if we wore paintball masks."

Before the afore mentioned weapons were exiled to the outer regions. 

Overall, our time went smoothly and we had a blast! However, there were "those moments." And, as usual, God used "those moments" to teach me and bring me face to face with my inadequacy and dependence on Him.

As I corrected math, listened to reading and gave out spelling, I realized how responsible parents are for making sure their children are equipped to succeed in the "real world."

As I washed loads and loads of laundry (a little boy managed to wet 12 blankets/comforters and 2 pillows in one night...no joke), cleaned the house, and made sure chores got done, I realized how responsible parents are for for creating an environment that is cared for and inviting.

As I cooked dinner (yes, I did cook and did not burn anything...which shouldn't be that surprising but it is), worked-out and made sure the kiddos played outside, it dawned on me that parents are, in part, responsible for the health of their children.

As I solved squabbles, tried to fill "love tanks" and meted out punishments and rewards, I realized how responsible parents are for the emotional stability of their children.

As I drove to music lessons, practiced singing with the youngers, and watched the baby during "art class" I realized how responsible parents are for the overall development of their children.

On the 5th day, it hit me. The weight of responsibility crashed down like a wave.

I can't do this LORD! There is so much to do, so much I am responsible for, so many needs to be met. How can I make sure everyone feels loved? I am not patient enough for this. I cannot fill Mother's shoes for one week...how has she done it for 18 years?

"You're right, Katie. You can't do it. You are too impatient--too impulsive. You could never ensure that any child will do well in business. You can never guarantee any child vibrant health. Even with all your effort, you could never fill a child's emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual needs.

But I can.

Just be a vessel I can use. Follow where I lead. These children are mine and I am responsible for their souls."

THANK YOU, JESUS!

Like every other aspect in life, ALL we have to give is never enough. But Jesus Christ is more than enough! All we have to do is be attentive to His voice. He will shoulder the responsibility of the rest.

Circus time! The show WILL go on!!!

"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.

For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." Matthew 11:28-30

Ke Akua pu a hui hou!

Kathryn Joy



**This post was written about two weeks ago.

Think you're healthy? You're NOT!

How does a family go from eating whole wheat flour and doing Insanity to eating egg whites and doing Pilates?

I'm not certain, but two things I am sure of. #1: It happens fast. #2: It's happened to us.

Now, I have always been told I am an extremist, but where food's concerned, I consider myself pretty straight up. I like things whole--natural. You know, whole raw milk, whole wheat, raw honey, lots of fresh food, a high-protein diet.

In fact, I even went so far as to think we were a "healthy" family. My motto was "eat a lot, work out a lot." With a steady rejection of sodas, limited processed sugar, and our regular work-out regime I thought we were safe from the kaleidoscope of health crazes hitting North America. After all, what needed to change?

Turns out, no one is SAFE!!! (even way out in Dufur)

Kyla and Kelsey got their hands on a book that I think is awesome if you want to be a trim, healthy, Mama. However, the thing is, twelve of us in this family are NOT Mamas. That seems to make no difference, so here we are eating like we have 50lbs to lose and allergies to every good thing God created. They say you don't have to be a Mom to eat so you feel better and have more energy but...

Whole, raw cow milk? I know that is good....but for some reason Almonds seem to have something on Klarabelle's sweet cream.

Whole wheat? (I mean, it's NOT white, and none of us are glucose intolerant) Nope. We must grind our own oat and almond flour. (I never did like almonds, but now they are taking over my diet!)

Okay, so honey is a great alternative to processed sugar, with a TON of health benefits. I HAVE BOOKS THAT SAY SO!!! However, while I pull my hair out over their purism, Ky and Kels continue to Stevia, Xylitol, and otherwise sweeten their food. Shaking their heads at my "spiking insulin levels."

We eat only egg whites in our pancakes. And only egg yolks in our muffins. Am I going crazy here, or is that the equivalent to a whole egg if I eat one muffin and one pancake?

Of course, I cannot complain (here, I am simply stating the facts). When you hardly cook, you have very little weight to throw around. I am very thankful to have sisters who have not yet found a substitute for our home grown ground beef, or a cure for my vinegar craving. I am sure, given enough time, they will soon find all those hidden faults of what I once thought was "good" for me, but until then, I shall munch on bananas...oh wait, I forgot...according to a San Francisco health company's info-graphic, banana's are just as bad for you as a cookie or french fries.

On second thought, I'll have some french fries.

For all you likeminded, health enthused individuals, it goes without saying that I have done very little research on this subject. I merely look up the unique food products being brought into our home to see what the side effects are...aside from an empty wallet. Surely, if it has no carbs, no fats, no proteins, your blood stream has no reaction, and you don't even know you ate it, something has to be wrong!

I realize that my whole foods model is flawed and although I am still unable to see the benefit in eating my jam separate from my bread (apparently to avoid "fermentation in the gut"), I'll hand it to you guys. I love your passion. I love your dedication. And I appreciate the endless hours you spend in the kitchen to grind your own almond flour, make your own almond butter, strain your own almond milk, and create almond flavored, flourless, gluten free, dairy free, carb free, fiber dense, egg-white-only, stevia-sweetened, skinny-minny, Mama cookies. You deserve every benefit this lifestyle has to offer. Seriously.

For me...I will pat myself on the back that for once I'm NOT the extremist. And I'll eat my oatmeal-honey cookies with whole eggs.

Love,

Kathryn Joy

**P.S. Take this post with a pinch of salt (unless you've already had your 6g allotment for the day).