Gift of finest wheat?

Wheat Sheaf
Photo by John-Morgan

I shouldn’t use that hymn as a post title. It is actually my least-favorite hymn of all time, thanks to some over-enthusiastic members of the choir in my youth. Still, I have wheat on the brain today, and it is lodged pretty firmly in there. I should go on record as being so tired that I am very likely to make no sense at all tonight, but I wanted to post. Forgive me in advance if I am completely random.

Thanks to a friend’s Facebook post, I picked up a book yesterday with the catchy title, Wheat Belly. I started reading it last night, and I am fascinated. The author – in this first part, at any rate – is going into how wheat has been transformed by man in the last half-century and how many people’s bodies are reacting negatively to it. In many cases, the body sees the wheat proteins (glutenin or gliadin) as invaders and mounts an offensive against them… and against any cells in your body that might resemble them.

If my body is going to repeatedly attack itself, it behooves me to find out why. (And also to use the word “behooves” whenever possible.) Multiple Sclerosis is an auto-immune disease, which makes me pretty darn interested in anything that could have an adverse effect on my immune system. Graves Disease (aka “BigEye”) is an auto-immune disease as well. Coincidence? We shall see.

I’ve barely made a dent in the book, but I am looking forward to the research.

Daily Check-In:

  • I’m grateful! for a good and kind husband, and for a great big win over the San Antonio Spurs. (By 40.)
  • I’m lighter! by giftwrap and ribbons and bows and tissue paper.

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