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GANE Empowered Wellness
with Kim Jorgensen Gane

Welcome to GANE Empowered Wellness: GANE Possible. Through blogging, I've built much of my upcoming book. My first GANE Possible publication is described as prescriptive nonfiction. Beating the Statistics: A Mother's Quest to Reclaim Fertility, Halt Autism & Help Her Child Grow From Behavior Failure to Behavior Success, is soon to be released.

My "Gramps" lived to be 100 years old.  At his table, Vegetables were friends, portions were smaller, abundance was celebrated and family and laughter were plentiful. For these reasons and because of his appreciation for life and the people in it, my grandfather observed the world in three centuries. His spirit touched everyone he met, me especially. I always felt safe, cherished and nourished at his table, and his legacy has helped me keep my family well. 

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Making #MOREin2014 Veggies Taste Great: Honey Balsamic Vinaigrette Recipe

4/21/2014

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Maybe I’m weird, but I love most veggies, and I’m passionate about making them taste good to everyone. If you haven’t already, making your own dressings and marinades is a great way to embrace vegetables. It’s super easy, you can make them taste however you like, and you avoid unsavory ingredients, like MSG and preservatives, found in many “over the counter” dressings. Why embrace vegetables? Because they represent an absolutely necessary whole, clean source of micronutrients, including antioxidants, vitamins, minerals, phytochemicals, and trace elements the Standard American Diet (SAD!) commonly lacks. 
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Learning to love them and setting a positive example for our kids is a key component to helping our families achieve and maintain overall wellness—especially important for kids as their bodies are building and growing. Fake foods simply don’t fuel that growth at the cellular level. 

I could easily eat spinach for every meal, no lie, breakfast included.  Not recommended for a  #MOREin2014 lifestyle that encourages VARIETY, first and foremost, but I’d be in my own crazy kinda Heaven. Kale I’m still learning to love—it’s a texture thing. Cut the leaves in a chiffonade (remove ribs, stack leaves, roll them into a tube and slice perpendicular to the length of the tube into narrow ribbons), however, and massage this delicious dressing thoroughly into them to help break down the fibers, and I bet it would be delicious. I’ll have to try it. Maybe tomorrow. Right now “I needs to eats me spinach! Toot-toot!”

<--This spinach is sautéed, but I equally enjoy a breakfast salad. Just look at that beautiful farm-fresh egg with its vibrant yolk! 

PictureBeautiful greens from UprightFarms.org!
What you will need:

1 Tablespoon Dijon mustard

1 Tablespoon Honey, preferably raw & local

Salt/pepper to taste

¼ cup balsamic vinegar

Extra virgin olive oil in a vessel that allows for drizzling

Place all but the olive oil in the bottom of either your immersion blender measuring and mixing container or a regular blender. You might want to double this recipe for a regular blender. And I would start with a few grinds of fresh cracked pepper and ¼ teaspoon salt, you can add more later if you like. Blend these ingredients together, then keep the blender going and sslllooowwwly drizzle in olive oil. Once you’ve added between a quarter- and a half-cup, turn off the motor, allow it to come to a complete stop, taste to adjust for balance of acidity with your particular vinegar (some are more tart and acidic in flavor than others) and your own taste. Keep whizzing and slowly drizzle in more olive oil if needed. Too bland? Add a spash more vinegar, maybe a pinch more salt and pepper.

My favorite salad with this dressing consists of a variety of organic micro greens like the ones pictured from Upright Farms (a delightful little startup for which I'm director, communications & media--keep checking the website, there'll be more to see soon!), with chunks of buttery red pear (I check the current Dirty Dozen and Clean Fifteen and do my best to buy what I can find and afford accordingly, with a strong emphasis on local when available), shallots, chopped pecans, and either crumbled goat or blue cheese. YUM! It also lends itself very well to a strawberry walnut spinach salad, as strawberries and balsamic vinegar go beautifully together! I bet it would make some rockin’ kale chips, too, which I do love. Or why not just dip your #MOREin2014 VARIETY of raw Veggies right on in? Awesome on asparagus, green beans and more—coat evenly and grill or roast (400° for fifteen minutes, more or less, depending on how thick your veggies are). Whatever you do, don’t cook them to a limp, tasteless death—sample when you think they’re close but retain a bit of crunchy perfection. ENJOY! And tell me in the comments, what are some of your kids' favorite ways to enjoy their veggies? If you've got some great ideas, we'd love to hear them!

Yours in wellness,
--Kim Jorgensen Gane

© 2014, All Rights Reserved 

*If you're newly visiting from Listen to Your Mother, thank you & welcome! I hope you'll stick around! 
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Flash! Friday: #Flashversary Top 10 and Becoming...a WRITER

12/10/2013

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Via Flash! Friday Fiction|Micro fiction contest: Dragon of Halong Bay (Vietnam). Photo by LoggaWiggler.
AUTHOR UPDATE 12/15/13:  I'm so grateful to have received permission from the authors to include my two favorite stories from the wonderful #Flashversary competition that took place recently over at Flash! Friday.  Yvonne Rupert's story, which received a well-deserved Honorable Mention, "Clara's Dragon," suits the empowering message we hope to inspire with the January 2014 Launch of GANEPossible.com, to a T!  Von's story is about a little girl battling nightmares and cancer who chooses a dragon statue in the hospital gift shop, after her "Gramps" told her about them.  Little Clara's dragon proves more than something interesting to look at!  

And I'm equally delighted to introduce my readers to Jacki Donnellan, the WINNER of the #Flashversary competition!!  Jacki's wonderful story of the mysteries of Loch Ness resonated deeply with me.  It brought to mind my maternal grandfather, whose Michigan nickname was "Scotty."  He was English, from the north, and very proud of his feisty Scottish grandfather (lived to be 108--died when he was kicked in the head by the horse he was shoeing--according to family lore).  Though my Gramps would have told his wee lass the boldest of tales, nudged me, and whispered to look up, he was the kind of man who would have fiercely protected the legends, too.  He was born in 1899. Died in 2000. 100 years old, which was precisely his story all along.  It is my grandfather's model for living well that inspires everything I do.  It's what I hope to share and inspire through GANE Possible.  Please enjoy Von's and Jacki's inspiring stories posted below.

No, I'm not a top 10 finalist.  But a dear online friend of mine is, Yvonne Rupert, so I couldn't let the moment pass without recognizing and expressing my gratitude for this weekly contest and what participating in it from time to time has done for me and does for so many others.  Sometimes it's the only creative writing I do all week, which has become so important to my mental health.  This is something I gift myself with when the prompt of the week inspires, as I've posted before.  And btw, Von is also one of our #JudyBlumeProject contributors!  So send her some love & luck!  We sure are!

The beautiful photo prompt that inspired the #Flashversary competition, above, chosen by Rebekah Postupak--our Dragon Lady of Flash!--inspired me, particularly because the very thing that keeps us from writing is so often referred to as our dragon--the roars or whispers that tell us we're not good enough.  It's so difficult to overcome.  But it's important to acknowledge that I've communicated with a LOT of writers over the last two years, and no matter how prolific or profound their writing, WE ALL STILL DOUBT OURSELVES!  Which is why it's so very important, win or not, to try, to learn, to take part, to WRITE.  

I cannot believe the amount of work Rebekah and the judges put into this each week.  My sincerest thanks and congratulations go out to them on how huge it's become in a short year.  It shows how powerful flash fiction is as a writing medium.  What a level playing field it is.  How appealing it is to read.  And I believe it is essential for writers to find contests like this to give ourselves the mental exercise.  To break away from projects we're working on (even if they are creative, sometimes we need a shift), and for me, to dabble creatively, while most of the writing I've been doing lately doesn't feel terribly creative.  

Here was my post in the competition, which had to be 350 words exactly:

Becoming

The dragon becomes the crags in rock, the bow that cuts through still waters, the eagle that soars, the dolphin as it dives, the murderer, the protector, the villain, the hero.

What the dragon can never become is real.

It’s blood will never run, it’s heart will never beat. Conquer it, and it morphs to dust before you. Lest you momentarily forget your vigilance, and it returns for yet another go. To badger, to impale with doubt, to grasp you in its talons and drop you from the clouds to land with a thud and a roll in a cloud of grit that coats your teeth.

The weapon that will momentarily do the deed is ever-changing. What once worked, becomes Excalibur in Uthar’s hands. Fire becomes ice, rich becomes poor, complete becomes a dream that cannot be attained. Only the ruthless survive. The tireless, the bottomless, the feet that continue to climb despite the bloodiest blisters, the hands that feel for the next hold, the next crevice, the next root. The heart that beats with the thump of belief, with rhythm of tides, or flutter of wings.

The weary will try to hide, behind employ or enfant. But the stories will need to be told, the words will sway and swim, creating chaos of mind and of making. They will one day erupt in torrent or tale, in flash or in song, reaching for the page in a shower of sparks against the black of sleepless eve.

When first did you meet your dragon? In a closet of fear? In a classroom of shame? On a field of loss? Or perhaps in a home of desertion? Who’s voice does it own?

Yours must be louder. Yours must ring truer. It is your voice, and yours alone that must own the stories that bellow to be told. For only the life you give your words can silence those of the dragon. Only your imaginings, your make believe or your truth can stop his coal hot breath from stirring the doubt at your nape.

Only your words set free can become Arthur.

350 @KimGANEPossible (Whew!)

To Dream of Legend
by Jacki Donnellan

No matter what happens, they never look up.

The water draws them downwards, without our help. It mesmerises them, with the flipping and flicking of a tail here, a rising head there.

And if ever the water should break and thrash, they may glimpse what they swear is reptilian skin, gleaming and rolling beneath the foam.

And they chatter of the rising and surfacing of what must have been the Monster, picturing her surging up from the deep for a brief, playful gasp of pure Scottish air, and then submerging, to swim once more along the murky loch bed.

They do not look up. They don’t pause, for a moment, to replay in their minds that strange, swift javelin of wind, moments before. They fail even to imagine an invisibly fast, joyful dive, straight from the clouds.

We play our part, of course. It is in our interests, too, to keep their attention focussed on the loch. We gather them around it and sell them our tartan landscape, woven of underwater caves and elongated prehistoric necks. And we take them out onto Loch Ness itself, where they clutch binoculars, and shortbread, and a growing hope, staring down into the opaque black water as if persistent eyes might penetrate what light does not.

Back on land, we’ll add soda to their Scotch. Water onto fire. Beside roaring flames, we’ll bid them relax, and think themselves brave- to contemplate an animal that has swum against the tide of evolution!

But we will not feed them the courage to dream of legend.

We will not carve her pearled, glistening scales on the wet, smooth skin in their minds, nor paint the glint of talons and the arc of wings onto clumsy flippers.

And we leave, uncorrected, the convenience of “Monster.”

We will look up, always, when her soaring presence circles and scorches the skies. And we will forever distract the crowds with weak, watery myths, whenever she desires to plunge and swirl her fiery form through the cool, onyx waters of Loch Ness.

She is more magnificent than this world could ever bear.

Jacki Donnellan is from England. She currently lives in the Netherlands with her husband and two children, where she has begun to fill in all the little spaces in her life with fiction and poetry. You can find her on Twitter @Donnellanjacki
Clara’s Dragon
by Von Rupert

Clara’s mother found her in the gift shop. “Sweetie, you know better! Dr. Lou says you’re not strong enough to leave the floor.”

“Gramps told me about the dragons. I needed to see them.”

The dragons watched from a shelf. The tiny amethyst one spoke first. “I want her.”

The tallest dragon, carved in jade, shook his head. “You’re too young, and she’s far too gone.”

“Don’t say that. I see much life in her eyes.”

The black onyx dragon replied last. “The child will choose. We shall comply.”

Clara studied the figurines. She wished she could hold each of them, but her fingers trembled, and the dragons were too precious. “I want the purple one.”

“Are you sure? Its face is frightening. You’ll have bad dreams.”

Clara’s hands fisted. She had nightmares every night, but her family didn’t like to hear about them. Skeleton wolves ravaged her dreams. Their razor teeth ripped skin from her bald head and tore the veins from her arms. “I want the purple one!”

Her mother grumbled, but bought it for her.

#

After everyone had left, Clara snuggled in the blankets holding her dragon. It purred with warm static. “You’re magic, aren’t you? I’ve smelled toasted marshmallows since I met you downstairs. Will you help me? I can’t fight them alone anymore.”

The dragon glittered to life and filled the room. Clara was not afraid. Dragon wings caressed her scalp, a lullaby encircled her, and she fell asleep. For the first time in years, the wolves were gone.

The next morning, Clara’s family surrounded her bed. The doctor explained, “She’s sleeping so deeply, I wanted you here. It might mean something. “

Clara’s dragon cradled her to sleep every night. In one final dream, the skeleton wolves returned. Their bones fell to the ground like rotted limbs. Clara crushed them beneath her feet.

One month later, Dr. Lou spoke to the family. “Take Clara home for the weekend.” When Clara’s mother began to cry, he hugged her. “Sometimes it happens like that. The immune system suddenly grows stronger. She’s definitely turned the corner.”

Von Rupert is a wife, mom, writer, and podcast producer. She's a writing mentor at Writer's Village University and a member of Write1Sub1.  She blogs at yvonnerupert.blogspot.com.  You can also find her on Twitter @VonRupert.

I am blown away by the power in these beautiful stories, and deeply grateful to Jacki and to Von for allowing me to share them here (and to Rebekah for brokering the deal!).  I hope they, and the stories of so many others, inspire you as they have me, to battle your writing (or any other) dragon if you have one.  I can tell you from experience, it opens up worlds of possibilities and potential.  And I'm only getting started!  Stay tuned....!

If our stories or the photograph prompt above inspired you to recall a memory, to write a story or essay, I invite you to share it in the comments below.  GO!

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What I'm Thankful For: Failure, Redirection & Perfect Harmony

11/30/2013

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I’ve written often about my fear of failure, and my equally daunting fear of success.  These fears have sat equally sour in my belly since high school.  I’m afraid to be nothing, afraid of not fulfilling my purpose, but I’m equally afraid of how my life might change if I do succeed in doing what it is that same gut keeps niggling at me over and over, telling me I’m meant to do.

If only that gut spoke plain English.

But it doesn’t.  It speaks in code.  It speaks in hieroglyphics, in tongues at which I’m left to decipher and guess.

I know it’s always a mistake when I ignore my gut.  Lord knows, ignoring that flip in the hollow of my stomach before I got into a car with a guy I didn’t know when another guy I did know asked his “friend” to give me a ride home was a big mistake.  Did my “friend” know this was his bud's M.O?  I was too ashamed, so I never told.  How many girls had the bud done this to?  Had anyone else ever reported it?  Had there been some kind of secret handshake that passed between them?  Was my friend possibly in on it?

It was the 80s.  We chalked it up to a bad date—a bad choice, my own damn fault (which is complete and utter bull$hit, if you wondered!)—and we moved on. 

But you never really do.

You just learn, time after time, to question and question again your own intelligence, your own abilities.  You question your own gut’s messages about right or wrong, its whispers about do it or don’t do it, its twinges and twists and which way they mean for you to go. 

Speak English, damn you!

Just tell me, please.  What is it you want me to do?  Which answer is the right one to help me feed my family?

“Girgle, girgle,” crickets….

—sigh--

Somehow, when it's about your own life, Intuition can be a bitch, and Doubt, her master.

Then something I spent an entire weekend berating myself over for yet another failure, with perspective morphed into opportunity, into action, an honest to goodness aha!

I made a phone call.  I felt certain.    

What I thought I felt certain about became something else entirely.  A lunch turned into a three-hour meeting, into a tour, into another impromptu meeting, into a follow-up meeting next week.

I’m in awe, I’m awakened, and I have a vision that has never been clearer.  

Everything in my life has led up to this presentation next week, to this moment.  The dots connect, the failures make sense, every moment of the last two years of hard work and educating myself, the odd job, the “gifts” that seem not at all related, slip effortlessly together with a clang of realization.

All of this is to say that, my cooking demonstration planned for The Box Factory on December 11th has met with some challenges that make it impossible to pull off in the time-frame I’d allotted myself (so we'll do it in late January, likely that week before the Super Bowl).  

But please stay tuned for something that could be, that will be, bigger and better and incredibly exciting!   

I’m working on the presentation of my life this week.  So don’t think I’ve buried myself under a bush to lick at my wounds…I’m strategizing, I’m pulling it all together like never before.

I’m listening to my gut and writing down its every note, because for once its intentions are clear and beautiful as perfect harmony.  Which, when I remember what it felt like to sit in the middle of a choir of voices, brings me to tears, each and every time.  Heck, maybe one day I'll incorporate that into this little project of mine, too.


**If you didn't already, check out http://www.supportacappella.org -- who needs instruments?! Music ed for FREE!**

Just Write is a weekly writing exercise sponsored by Heather of the Extraordinary Ordinary, WHO ROCKS! Hadn't participated in awhile, but this reflection definitely fits.

You're going to want to stay informed!  Do subscribe-------->

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    Kim Jorgensen Gane

    Author|Award-Winning Essayist|Freelance CommercialWriter|
    Empowered Wellness Advocate, Facilitator, Speaker

    Kim is a freelance writer, living and working on Michigan’s sunset coast with her husband, youngest son, a standard poodle and a gecko. She’s been every-mom, raising two generations of kids over twenty-seven years. Kim writes on a variety of topics including parenting  through midlife crisis, infertility, health and wellness, personal empowerment, politics, and about anything else that interests her, including flash fiction and her novel in progress, Bluebirds.  Oh, and this is happening!

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*GANEPossible.com is an anecdotal website and in no way intends to diagnose, treat, prevent or otherwise influence the medical decisions of its readers. I am not a doctor, I do not recommend going off prescribed medications without the advice and approval of a qualified practitioner, and I do not recommend changing your diet or your exercise routine without first consulting your doctor. These are merely my life experiences, and what has and hasn't worked for me and my family. You must be your own best medical advocate and that of your children, and seek to find the practitioner with whom you have the best rapport and in whose advice and care you can entrust your health and medical decisions.


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