7:30am - lapsang souchong tea - it has a slightly smoky flavor
It's getting close now to seven months of detailing the food I eat. Has it helped any? I still weigh the same when I started. Of course, without all this scrutiny, I might have gained weight. That's the only consolation of all these tedious, boring space filler (tummy filler) ruminations.1:00pm - strawberry-banana milkshakeStill, when I tried on a tan linen size fourteen shirt at Lane Bryant yesterday, and the bottom button pulled tautly across my belly, it occurred to me that I could be doing better. I have a whole closet full of things too tight at the waist. I wear the same few skirts and tops over and over, because they are 'comfortable'.
So what can I change? It could be possible to cut back some without going hungry. Let's see what I can do. It should be some easier, now that I must watch for MSG. For instance, I won't be indulging in ice cream. The roof of my mouth is twinging a little this morning. Those suspicious ingrediants were indeed guilty. I can ignore the four tubs of various flavored ice cream in our freezer. That's a start. Let's see what I can do. I'll take it meal by meal. Maybe I'll even eat more veggies!
5:30pm - mug of 7-up
6:00pm - small bowl vegetarian spaghetti, cup of water
6:30pm - glass of milk, vanilla wafers - I shouldn't have ate the cookies. I forgot to list them earlier.
8:30pm - cup of water
As I was resting, after almost finishing cutting out four pale blue chambray shirts, I looked at the sunlight streaming in through the window. It illuminated this porcelain statue, giving her an almost supernatural glow. It evoked in me a mystical feeling, so I took the lady's picture. As I was formating the tables into which her picture would be set, I tried to capture that feeling in a poem, now at ATTWT.
"Hot On The Trail"
8:00am - one and a half boiled potatoes with two boiled eggs, mug of water
12:00pm - about a mug's worth of water, swallowed in gulps through out the day
2:15pm - Kit Kat candy bar - after our walk at the arboretum, we stopped at a Circle K to refill water jugs. Laura mentioned that a Kit Kat would really taste good. Yeah, I thought dreamily, but had no cash. But I was wrong. I looked deeper in my camera case. In the little channel for spare battery, I found three dollars! Never did a Kit Kat taste so good.
3:00pm - lots of ice cubes, slowly sucked.
4:45pm - a few spoonfuls of Laura's peanut butter ice cream - there's no calories if I don't get my own bowl!
6:00pm - bowl of boiled cabbage with onions, small amount vinegar added
detail of Stiff Leaved Bottlebrush treeAfter a discussion of our cash situation, we needed some cheap entertainment. We're members of the Boyce Thompson Southwestern Arboretum, so going there is free. Never mind the heat, we were off. We'd already decided we'd stick to the 'low' trails, for all the trees provide more shade. Even if we hadn't had chosen that, the 'high trail' was blocked off. Due to the recent rains, the creek that must be crossed via stepping stones to reach it was too turbulent. I'd never seen the paths so deserted. I saw one man at a picnic bench, who appeared to be in serious scientific study. He had a silver box beside him, and was scribbling in a notebook. We met another lady, a blonde haired middle aged woman of about my build, and talked for a while. Being alone, she was glad to see people. She was worried about her blind Australian Shepherd was fairing at home. We told her that dogs are allowed, and how much Max has enjoyed sniffing and 'claiming territory'. However a blind dog might be timid to explore.
I was surprised at how many blooms there were in spite of the August heat.
Laura and Julia rested on a bench, while Shayna and I visited the greenhouse. All of the cacti had really grown in the last couple of years since I last took pictures. Almost twice as tall, they were. The odd shapes of some of the cacti really amused Shayna. I rather like the Turk's Cap, pictured below, even though no Turk would mistake it for his own chapeau.
This butterfly enjoyed the tasty treats of these reddish orange flowers.
Turk's Cap cactus
6:30pm - mug of 7-up
7:00pm - two pieces sourdough toast with olive oil drizzled on it, then heaped with gaspacho sauce - this gourmet blend more 'green' than the last, due to more cilanto, cucumbers and a few olives in the mix
7:30pm - mug of 7-up -oh, it was SO refreshing!
9:00pm - cup of water
"No Entry, Just Food List"
7:00am - cheese omelet with gaspacho sauce
8:00am - glass of watered down grape juice
9:45am - two cups of 'cherry moon' tea - a green tea with subtle cherry flavoring
10:00am - mug of 7-up
12:00pm - 1/4 chicken dark, sliced potatoes, broccoli and carrots, pureed squash, cornbread, weak tea
3:30pm - about a cup's worth of water
4:00pm - one half of a Kit Kat shared with Laura
5:00pm - several cookies, glass of milk I remembered this as a day of hideous consumption, and realized I forgot to list the cookies.
7:30pm - spoonfuls of peanut butter cup ice cream - probably a bowl's worth, a few spoonfuls of avocado dip
10:00pm - mug of water
"May the Forks Be With You"
8:30am - two pieces sourdough toast with avocado sauce, bowl of sliced banana with milk and sugar, cup of waterChampion City has been kept criminal free by Amazing Man. In fact, things have gotten a little dull in the town. What kind of reputation will he have if there are no villians to battle? So Amazing Man, as his be-speckled alter ego, arranges to have one baddie let loose upon society. Casanova Frankenstein has been locked up for years, and now he's out. Frankenstein lures Amazing Man to his lair, and soon has him trapped. Who will save the day, now that the town is helpless to defend itself? "Mystery Men"
Enter the most unlikely band of almost-super heroes you can imagine. Their skills are less than legendary. One has 'gas warfare', the result of a Gypsy curse. Another, The Blue Raja, excells in throwing forks, no knives, mind you, just FORKS and the odd spoon or two. Mr Furious, is empowered by a berserker rage, but gets insecure occasionally. Invisable Man can only become invisable when no one is watching him. One is handy with a spade, but his wife ridicules his world saving efforts. The Bowler has the murder of her father to avenge. Her bowling ball has her father's skull embedded within. She, ball before her, still has dialogues with him, though he's passed on. They enlist the help of a Yoda- like Sphinx to train them. He has sage words of advice such as "Don't doubt your powers, or you'll give power to your doubts" Add the special non lethal tools of a mad scientist, and they are off to save Amazing Man and Champion City.
It was a fun movie, definately worth seeing on the big screen. There's a not so subtle message in it, as well. All of us humans have some small 'superhero' talent. Perhaps by itself, it's not much, but by joining together and pooling our resources, we can achieve 'amazing' results. That's essentially what we've done, in our small community here. Last night, the four of us were speaking of our frailties and our worries. We're an unlikely band of oddies, ourselves. But joined together, our strengths are multiplied. Yes, this movie left us with a very good feeling.
(One of my favorite lines in the movie:)
May the Forks Be With You!
10:00am - some kind of tea, I can't remember what kind, though
2:00pm - spaghetti with tomato and tuna sauce, mug of 7-up
3:00pm - mug of 7-up
7:00pm - dark Dove chocolate bar - Laura got this for me. You know I can't resist it., mug of water
"Sorting It Out"
Yesterday, today, odd dreams tossed and turned me as I slept. I woke from one this early morning. I was back in Joliet (birthplace, where all the disapproving relatives live, as well as my Mother). It was a dark rainy night, and I was in my old Ford Maverick, driving through the streets. Colorful neon signs were blurred through the rain pelted windshield. Where was I going? The town had evolved since I'd last lived there, over twelve years ago. A few familiar landmarks still remained. Where was I going? Was I going to visit my Aunt June and Uncle Bill?Go Forward...Then I woke up with a shiver. What are these dreams trying to tell me?
I sat down, imploring the Muse to see if she had any answers.
Sorting It Out Raw, aching, confusion,
ghosts of fear flit about where I cannot touch them.
All is vague.
Yet in these dark rooms,
are things that matter to me.
Underneath the scrap ends
and dusty remainders of old images,
faded with the years,
lies a smooth, unspoiled hope
that does not want to be lost.
I hear it sounding to me.
I must find it.
JAL, 8-10-99 It's been ages since I even spoke to those relatives. When Gramma died, there was a set-to. My cousins kept calling about some sort of 'emergency'. A mysterious letter had been sent to them years ago, 'peppered' with 'bad' words. They wanted to find out who authored it. I didn't remember writing such a thing. I had sent them a letter apprising them that Laura was my spouse, and to use Lansberry when addressing me. I don't remember any cussing, though. I won't say it couldn't happen, though. It wouldn't take much for them to think it was a'bad' word. Laura yelled at them to not bother us. In retrospect, I think it had to do with a possible inheritance. If I HAD authored the letter, then any inheritance to me was negated.
Needless to say, I didn't get any inheritance.
So what's all the HOPE about, that the poem is referring to? I know, in their eyes, I'm a black, black sheep. The narrow confines of their christian (small 'c' because most Christians won't even claim them as kindred) fundamentalism keeps their minds firmly shut. I guess a part of me wants to hang on to the hope that maybe one or two of them COULD have a change of heart and mind. It COULD happen, you know. Miracles, although rare, have been known to happen.
It's that hope, which I won't reject. I'll keep praying to the hazy Whatever that it happen someday. I won't be expecting it. Their dark fears have been planted deep in their psyche. Uprooting them could literally tear up their worlds. I understand that. Still, miracles have been known to happen.
This is a day I'd rather mostly not remember. Hence, there will be few details of it. Every now and then, everyone has a day like that. I take comfort from where ever I can on such days. Nature often brightens my spirits. And so it did today. When Laura and Shayna returned from swimming, they bought lovely orange flowers back with them. I wasted no time in recording this little beauty.
August 11, 1999
"Not All Bad"
I've been fiddling with the indexes to the two 'books' of ATTWT. I wanted to highlight when the mitosis into two separate journals took place. Also Book One, Something Really There, had as its introductory words:
August 12, 1999
"That Ideology Still Haunts Me"
Joan's Journal of Our Adventures, showing with insight and compassion that life is a joyous experience if you believe in yourself and those you love.Laura wrote those heartwarming words, and the cynic in me wondered if it was 'overkill' and pretentious. I got the urge to change it to:
The chronicles of someone who knew at an early age she'd go a ''Different Way' Bye, bye to all the sweet words. Laura caught me in the midst of the change, and felt a little hurt. She wondered just to what audience I am aiming my writing towards. In truth, I love her words. The gist of life being basically a joyous experience is what I hope the readers are getting. The words are NOT pretentious, so long as the readers know I didn't make them up and write them. I so remember being told as a child, "Self praise is half self slander". I don't really buy into the system that quote comes from, yet that ideology still haunts me.
She just didn't know HOW different.
So the dear words are back, with quote marks, and Laura being given credit for them.
I was thinking about Laura's quote this morning. It is easy to regard life as a 'joyous experience' when everything is going right. You're high on life, and all the world envies you. How they wish they had what they think you have. But everything doesn't always go right. How do we maintain optimism when we're up to our necks seemingly in muck? This, again, is another thing The Ancients Have Studied For Centuries. It's easy to fall into the quicksand of self pity. We can feel those patches near us, tempting us, wanting us. Occasionally we're snared. But do we have the muscle to fight ourselves out of it?
August 13, 1999
"The Untested Life"
THE UNTESTED LIFE It isn't what you think it is,
the sticky tarred night.
It's not the soul's long strain.
It's the way we find ourselves,
piece by piece
getting through each hard step.
The untested life will not train us,
will not force us to learn
just how strong we really are.
JAL, 8-13-99
~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~
Today's been a double hitter! I wrote TWO poems today! The new section of ATTWT has the second result. I felt so splendidly good when I was washing myself this morning, and I wanted to capture the moment. Even though it is a 'capture the moment' poem rather than a philosophical/spiritual one, it still seems to have a mystical quality to it. Was it just co-incidence?
