January 20, 2013

Chocolate Chocolate Chip Biscuits

Posted in Food, ME/CFS tagged , , , , , , , , , , , at 2:16 pm by Reva

Today I tried to work on an assignment which has a due date that is zooming towards me. I managed my initial 45 minute goal, took my 15 minute scheduled break, and couldn’t get back into it. I took an hour or so to just lay and had another go at the assignment. This just confirmed that my brain is pretty much mush at the the moment so I decided to bake. I’ve had a rocky couple of weeks and baking makes me happy, even if it can use nonexistent energy. I decided to bake my favourite chocolate chip biscuits. Super easy and I had planned to make them for the past two weeks as a part of a (belated) Christmas gift for a family friend.

choc choc chip biscuits

I love these biscuits because they are so easy and I always have the ingredients on hand; coming from a Women’s Weekly cook book, they never fail. The ingredients are also listed in weight so I find that I’m also saved a tonne of washing up because I just just pop the mixing bowl on the scales and add everything straight in.

I decided today to do something really crazy and replace some of the flour with cocoa powder; what can I say? I like to live dangerously 😉

chocolate choc chip biscuits

Overall it was a success. The biscuits were crispier than the original version, but in a good way. They were very cracked on top, so I might have to play around with the recipe or oven temp next time. There was one small almost-disaster where I was trying to unload one tray onto the cooling rack, and load the next tray on my too narrow kitchen bench tops, and the cooling rack toppled off. Fortunately the batch was saved from the floor by my buffet, all but one anyway. And only one third of that one was demolished by Maisie.

Ingredients

250g butter
165g castor sugar
165g brown sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
300g self raising flour
30g cocoa
1 teaspoon bicarbonate soda
300g dark chocolate chips

Method

1. Beat butter, sugars, extract and egg until creamy.
2. Sift in flour, cocoa and bicarbonate soda and stir until combined.
3. Stir in chocolate chips. Refrigerate for an hour.
4. Preheat oven to 180degrees
5. Roll level tablespoons of dough into balls and place on a greased oven tray 3cm apart. Bake for approximately 12 minutes.

supper

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January 10, 2013

To Know It Is To Loathe It

Posted in Crashes, ME/CFS, The Bad Days tagged , , , , at 7:17 pm by Reva

Today I hate ME/CFS.  Not that I usually love it, or even like it, but usually I tolerate it.  It’s there, there’s not a lot I can do about it.  But today I am having a day where I really hate it.

I hate the feeling of waking up tireder that when I went to bed.  The feeling that my eyes are stinging, that I would have been better off staying awake all night because for some reason the idea of having stayed up all night seems less tiring than how I feel this morning.  And the reason I know it’s worse than a normal night is that I slept right through the night.  Usually I wake up at least once.

I hate that the dreams I have during a crash are insanely weird.  I never remember the full story, just snippets.  From last night I remember being in a cooking competition, making “a trio of nachos”. There were appetizer ones that had individual corn chips lay neatly on a tray, each with a dab of tomato salsa and a sprinkle of cheese, grilled until just brown, then drizzled with an avocado sauce in a neat bottle.  There was also a heap of people who I haven’t seen in years, who I was sharing a house with – I think I was back at uni.  There was hiding from someone, in what looked like a storage room with glass windows and open metal shelves – like the ones you see on medical shows on TV.  Then I was at work, in some place I don’t recognise.  And the weirdest, hiding parts of a dead body.  I have no idea what that’s.

I hate that on these days I become so emotional.  The smallest thing sets of the tears.  I had one of most emotional work trips today driving through a small town where a murder occurred since I last drove through, past a road sign to another small town where out of control grass fires tore through homes earlier this week, past the fire fighters out washing down there truck after fighting those fires.  On a regular day these would have touched me but today I welled up.

I hate the way my brain seems to go on strike, the way it stops mid-sentence.   It reaches a point where it not only happens when I’m talking but even in my thoughts.  And if it doesn’t stop it goes off on tangents so often that I suddenly stop with no idea what I was supposed to be saying.  Trying to get back to the point is like treading water in my head…if I keep talking maybe I’ll remember the point and find my way back to it.

I hate that there is so much I need to do and knowing that it’s not going to happen.  Or if it does happen, I’m going to be in even worse shape.  I need to wash my car properly – it has moss growing in crevices because I keep giving in and taking it to a drive through car wash so it’s never properly clean, or dried.  I need to change the sheets on my bed, but making it will probably take me all day.  I need to make a heap of phone calls.  I need to restock my freezer. 

I hate that despite knowing that I need to do all of this I spend all spare time outside of work sitting on the couch, watching bad summer TV.  And that when I get back to work people ask what I did on my day off/weekend, because when I try to come up with something the best I can manage is “watch tv” or “not much” and they respond “oh that sounds so nice, I wish I could do that”. I don’t have the energy to do even the seemingly restful activities like sewing or writing or reading.  Sometimes even watching TV is too much. 

Most of all I hate how negative I become.  I’m sure I’m not like this on the good days.

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January 7, 2013

Posted in Uncategorized at 9:53 pm by Reva

This is a brilliant analogy explaining symptom management in chronic illness and the decisions we have to make just to get through the day, things we took for granted when we were well