This morning I juiced a small bag of carrots, one orange, and an apple for Basil. Poor thing. He’s got the flu. I had a bunch of pulp that looked too good to throw into the compost heap, so I got creative and made these little carrot cake bites.

Ingredients in The Bites:
carrot pulp from juicing
raw honey
raisins
dried cranberries
walnuts
slivered almonds
cinnamon
nutmeg
salt

Ingredients in The Frosting:
coconut water
coconut oil
honey
JICAMA!! (Now this was really creative)
cinnamon
walnuts

I mixed the ingredients for The Bites, and then rolled into balls and put in the dehydrator for around 6 hours. Then made The Frosting (with JICAMA!) and put The Frosting into a pastry bag in the fridge for about an hour. Then I frosted the little carrot cake bites, and garnished with a dried cranberry.

They didn’t taste exactly like carrot cake, but were super yummy. Basil even ate a few when he got home from work, and complimented them without being prompted!

My neighbors across the street hung a Confederate Flag on the front of their house, and pointed a bright spotlight on it over the weekend.

I’d like to believe that this flag was hung as a symbol of pride in Southern heritage. Maybe if either of the people living in the house were from the South, I’d be prone to look on the bright side and believe that they were embracing an “American by Birth, Southern by the Grace of God” attitude. And while I believe that personal expression is extremely important, and that we are lucky to have the freedom to express our views and beliefs as freely as we are in America, I wish that ignorant rednecks would stop highlighting the hatred that this flag has come to represent.

Hanging the flag was bad enough. I wouldn’t be so bothered by it if I only had to look at it for 12 hours a day. But non stop racism out of every window in my house? There goes the neighborhood.

Beckett was pretending that he had me locked in jail when I took this photo. I told him that my cell was a little stuffy, and that the food was horrible. He is stabbing air holes into the wall of the imaginary cell here to give me a little more breathing room. But he stood firm on the grass clippings and water as my lunch.