Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
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| Like The Queen Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content. |
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2 Comments:
Sweets,
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We CAN hear your heart, dear. Which is why we like to keep it humming by feeding it our love.
By Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom] Sunday, April 24, 2005 The Crash CamethAs I probably knew it would. I was in the grocery store yesterday, something I do once a week anyway, but this time with a longer and different list, when a wave of such overwhelming exhaustion swept over me I nearly fell out on the floor. Thank goodness I was holding on to the cart - and I was standing in the check out line too. I had intended to do some other chores, but decided that they can all wait till Monday. So I hurried home, put all the stuff that might otherwise spoil into the refrigerator and crept up into bed, where I slept for 2 hours. When I woke I was shivering as if I had a fever, so I hopped into a very hot bath and let my favorite medicine do it’s work. I am a compete believer in AquaTherapy of all sorts. Drink it, soak in it, shower beneath it, listen to it tumble in fountains or waterfalls, and gaze at it. I know that Virgo is an earth sign, but water represents healing to me. Warm at last I fixed some dinner and was back in bed at 8:30. Slept the night through, in spite of the full moon beaming it’s light into the bedroom. BD and I had a wonderful long discussion yesterday about how to organize bottles of pills for a man who has never been sick before. We came up with a simple identifying system. (color coded caps for the different times of day, on a shelf with nothing but his stuff on it) We talked a lot about food also. And about purchasing and setting up a new file box just for his health info. And about the to-do lists he’s going to have to keep for a while, as he tries to remember all the appointments and Drs. and things he’s got to do in this early stage. It was a very easygoing discussion and it reminded me that when he has to, BD can be the most sensible, open minded and wisest of fellows. All I had to do was ask a question or two and he would open up that fabulously creative mind of his and come up with some truly useful answers - that were, in effect, commitments to the right living he really has to do now. Where I can pour out all my need to "mudder my poowah widdle baybeee" is into meals - dinner especially, which I would have cooked anyway. I know the greatest enemy to eating right, and eating well, is eating fast. Eating as if it were something to hurry through so you can get on to better things. I know this is the message in the French Women book. Of course, right now, doing things the right way is a mighty high priority. Still, we are having fun making a big deal out of our meals. I hope we can keep up a high level of interest in dining and continue to pay it the proper respect. Breakfast is not a problem because I have always been a breakfast eater and I love all the good things he’s supposed to eat. Dinner is pretty much the same. In fact, it’s going to be a lot easier, because for 2 years I’ve cooked 2 different dinners every night. I do have to laugh, though, because last night I made a chicken stir fry over brown rice - which is one of my all time favorite dishes - and BD exclaimed over it in delight. My dear friends, this is almost the very dish he has rejected at least 20 times with a sighing "I don’t care for those chicken things on rice. There’s just no flavor!" He also had 3 meals and 2 snacks yesterday, that all came to a pretty nutritious total. And for the first time since I joined Weight Watchers, I haven't felt like I had to ...hmm...how to put this... pretend I wasn't really enjoying myself. There had always been a subtle disapproval from BD that I wasn't eating what he ate. And he was begining to eat in defiance of any pleasure he might get, stuffing himself with food long past the point where he was uncomfortable, insisting that he could still eat like a teenager when he was 62. I think there really was some slight resentment that translated into "you may have slimmed down but I am eating stuff that tastes good." It wasn't true and I realize now that I had begun to either retreat into a sort of hurried, hidden eating or just gone along with his diet. (Though I have not been able to eat into the pain zone for years.) Dinner last night was really fun. We talked and we savored and we took our time. At the risk of turning everything into something about me and while I am not looking for personal benefits from these changes, I am glad to get them if they come along. So far, so good, is the verdict so far. So. Good. Needless to say, I didn’t get the Spring Fling bag finished. First off, it didn’t rain til late in the day, when I was napping. And second off, LD came over and puttered about the house with us, helping me haul out the screens and wash them off. Usually BD hauls them up to the house and I scrub them, so this was a bonus. They are dreadfully shabby looking, though and LD, with a kind of courteous scorn, prompted us about painting them. They aren’t heavy and we could set them up on the porch, on saw horses, and BD could quietly sit and paint them all next week. So we didn’t hang them and this morning I’ll run it past the boss man. He doesn’t really like to paint but these don’t need scraping - he used a white stain when he made them. We have lots of paint left over from last spring (when he should have paid the professional to paint them - what was he thinking?). It’s funny how the separate household of TheDarlings is peopled by two souls so powerfully bonded to, yet totally independent from us. Often enough I feel like they have expectations of us that are way too high. I could never really be the paragon my son thinks I am. (Or once thought I was) Yet having someone think so highly of me does inspire me to live up to that height. But when I fail - as with the shabby screens that I’ve put up year after year, though they’ve looked like crap for decades - it’s almost funny to hear the disapproval in his voice. And to hear the gentle way he tries to urge me to get back up on the pedestal. They have offered to go pick up the puppy for us today. It’s a long drive and we haven’t been able to get in touch with the breeder. I suspect her school was holding it’s Prom and she’d told me she was in charge of it. If that is so, I suspect, also, that she’d commandeered her entire family as chaperones. But whatever the reason, we couldn’t raise them on the phone and I am not sending TheDarlings on a 300 mile trip to find nobody home. I’ll call in an hour or two but if we can’t get them, we’ll just have to wait till next weekend. This is not nearly the disappointment it would have been last week - but then we are not where we were last week, either. We are in a NewPlace. So - I hope to knit today. I can’t think of anything else I have to do. I may play with beads too. That is almost as much fun as fiber play. I am officially NOT going to enter anything in the MSW contest. I like to work to deadlines, but I don’t like to play to them. And I suspect I could get really addicted to felted bags. Especially with KnitPick’s $1.79 worsted weight wool. If MSW wasn’t so close I might even place an order. But I can do so in the summer. Again, my dear wonderful friends - thank you SO SO SO much for the emails and messages. I feel almost greedy for them. They seem to validate me and cocoon me and open doors for me all at the same time. ALL your ideas are good - even if I’ve already had them - because they remind me and make me think and even praise me. This enormous web of support from the world of friends has truly sheltered me through this whole thing. Thank you is such a tiny thing to say with text - but if you could hear my heart you would know that it’s being sung by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and has golden sunshine rays shooting out from behind it. posted by Bess | 7:13 AM |
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