100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 21

Breakfast:  Eggs, steak, fruit, freaking bran muffin
Lunch:  Lobster, cauliflower, yogurt dip
Dinner:  Cauliflower, yogurt dip

So, anyway, Saturday is coffee and breakfast with my friends.  It used to be just coffee, but we ran out of just plain coffee shops and started going to places where they serve more than muffins and bagels and stuff like that.  I think that I am quitting the group because two of them are so rude to the wait staff and all complainy and generally being pains in the ass. It is uncomfortable all of the time, and downright embarrassing some of the time.  No one will say anything to either of them, and I am no exception, mostly because I do not want anyone else to call me out on any of my crap.  One of them is late for everything.  Really, everything.  Yet, each week she complains to us and sometimes to a waiter about how long it takes for her to get her food.  This one makes me laugh...a lot...because she groused about how it took ten minutes for her to get her pot of tea, even after the waiter shared with her that it was taking a little longer to be prepared.  Yeah, she is mostly amusing; so is the other woman.  I like them so much, but really, the Universe does not revolve around any of us, particularly in a busy restaurant.  Yes?  Aw, more likely I am being too critical, to judgmental, to much of a bitch.  Either way, staying home will be better for everyone.

I guess that will eliminate the muffin issue I faced today.  The place they chose does not have any à la carte items.  You have to order a whole, pre-designed meal.  You can try to ask to not have some of the items, like fried or hashed potatoes, toast, English muffins and regular muffins, but they sometime bring them to the table anyway.  I am guessing that bringing everything eliminates any fuss from their customers about paying for a whole meal and not ordering all of it's components.  So, they give you everything and you get to decide if you want to eat it.

Yeah, great solution to bartering customers, but there is that toast or some kind of muffin sitting there, a little glossy on top, raisins poking out from the branny and delicious smelling goodness.  My goodness.  I offered the muffin to the table, but because all of them got their whole meal, there were no takers, not even to take it home for later.

I ate my eggs and the tiny, rare, tender steak.  I nibbled at the sliced and diced fruit, then ate most of it.  I drank cup after cup of coffee (easy to do as they leave pots of it at the table), hoping to fill myself up so that there would be no room for muffins.  Man.  There was room for muffins.  I ate nearly half of it.  It was wonderful, nice and crumbly because of all the bran, just enough raisins.  But, it also had sugar in it, and some regular flour to hold it all together.  No bliss there.

Even worse than eating half is that I brought the other half home and ate it mid-afternoon, although I am counting it as breakfast.

Why, after three weeks of this do I have such a ridiculously low amount of self control?  I suck.  Really.

Alrighty, then, the lobster.  I have been tossing out too much food that has gone bad waiting for me to cook it.  I could pack those things away in the freezer, but I have only a small, bottom of the fridge freezer and it is already full of food that I never cooked and have socked away in there so that I would not have to throw it in the garbage.  Now, if I would actually thaw some of that crap and cook it, there would be room for more potential garbage, but I do not thaw and cook for the very same reason that all of that stuff ended up in the freezer in the first place.

I run out of energy to do much actual cooking.  For a while, I was buying frozen meals when they were on sale and eating those.  It was great.  They start off in the freezer and they eventually get eaten and there is no waste.  But, then I decided to eat more healthy food and that is why the freezer is at full capacity.

My solution is to shop for just a couple of days at a time.  So far it is working fine.  I have thrown away only some leftovers and some greens that went all wonky.  It means more stops on the way home from work and stuff, but that is not a problem, except when my energy fails and it is too difficult to stop, shop and haul my sorry behind in and out of the store.  For those days, I have filled a small shelf with canned soup, microwave popcorn and crackers.  There is iceberg lettuce, apples and some kind of hardy vegetable in the refrigerator almost all of the time, just to give the healthy food thing some credibility.

Got all my bases covered.

The  larder here was pretty empty.  Condiments, sugar-free syrups (for making plain water more appealing), pre-cooked bacon, and some cilantro is what was in there.  So, I stopped at a market on the way home from coffee this morning.  They were having a sale on lobster.  You paid $10 for one, about a pound each I guess, they cooked it for you in these huge cauldrons in front of the store, chilled them in ice water and you were set to go.

It was really good, that poor dead creature.  It was perfectly cooked and I ate everything edible, including the coral, which I really like.  It was a late lunch, after 3:00, but so filling and satisfying, juicy and, like, perfect.  So, not hungry much at dinner, and more cauliflower and some yogurt with ranch dressing powder was fine.

I have to take one of my ss women to lunch tomorrow, but for the next few days I am all set.  I have individually portioned, frozen beef patties, a couple of smoked port chops, green beans, the rest of the cauliflower (a bit more than half), peaches for breakfast or dinner tomorrow, 2 dozen eggs (some of which I will hard cook), celery, a tomato, asparagus, lemon juice for making rosewater lemonade, plenty of yogurt, blueberries, and the iceberg lettuce.

You know, I do not want to eliminate all sweets and other pleasurable foods from what I eat.  I do not want to make this about sacrifice so severe that I am afraid to enjoy myself and what I eat.  I have several trips scheduled for next month, August and October, and I want to eat the meals they provide and not get all angsty about what I am eating or not eating.

What I am doing now has to be a way of eating that I can comfortably follow for the rest of my life.  That is supposed to be the path to healthful eating that can last a lifetime.  Anything else will not work, and I have decades of proof that drastically changing to only certain foods is an exercise in failure on a grand scale.  I have already lost enough weight to notice it.  My clothes feel slightly looser and there is a reduction in the bulge-age in a certain area.  My bra is too big and some of my big girl panties are in danger of dropping when I least expect or desire them to do so.

So, this is working, and I would like to keep it that way.  I do not want to deprive myself of yummy and delicious alternatives to the junk and carbs that have been the mainstay of my diet for so long.  I am spending more money on groceries, but the quality of food has dramatically increased.  So, it is all good.  No one knows how much longer they will live, I am no exception to that, and I would very much like to spend the remaining time that I have not being fat.  I would like that very, very much.

Maybe every incidence of slippage in the whole will-power failures has been an opportunity to examine what food means to me beyond something that keeps you alive.  Maybe I need to pay closer attention to those incidents.  Not let them discourage or define me.

There are moments when this seems too difficult.  A month ago I would have sworn that I was not a person who ate in response to emotions.  An emotional eater?  Not me.  Now I know that I eat according to how I feel, particularly when I am feeling frightened, threatened and lonely.  That is such a difficult thing to accept.  Yet, if this is going to work this time, I have to find a way to deal with this, understand and resolve it and then get rid of it, once and for all.  Oh, maybe not completely, I know myself fairly well, but I would dearly love to leave most of that baggage behind me, along with the flab.

That would be so lovely.  Finding a way to care about myself enough to make choices that are truly in my own, best self interest.  I help my clients manifest that in their lives, perhaps I can do it for myself, too.  I had no intention to get all serious about this process. I wanted it to be easier than that, more like, well, just easier.  I am avoiding the scale, which has never been my friend.  I am not measuring and weighing portions, allowing my tummy to alert me when it is full, or at least satisfied.  I am still walking without my cane.  I lost count of how many days, but is is more than a week.  I did too much last Tuesday and took it in to work with me, concerned that a twelve-hour day at two locations might prove more than my knees and hip could handle on their own.  I will admit that I am taking more pain medication, but I think that cane made it possible for me to walk with less energy and certainly much less assurance.  By the end of the day my knees are not too bad, but my hips are, only sometimes, an agony.  This, too, will pass, yes?

All of this, the entire process, just seems right.  I am not stressed about it, well, except for my problems with the damn sweets.  I always believed that I was not a fan of sweet stuff.  Given a choice, I would always choose something salty, crunchy, and if you could put sour cream on it, that was even better.  I am simply going to trust that this works out the way it is supposed to and that this weakness for sweet stuff will pass.

I have three new GPs.  This is one of them.  It is named, Karma-O-Whirl:

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 9

Breakfast:  2 corn dogs, 2 mugs of instant cocoa/no sugar
Lunch: Nothing
Dinner:  2 cans of chicken soup, 2 slices of whole wheat toast, buttered, 2 mugs of decaf green tea, 3 RS sugar-free chocolates

It was a slow day, although it began at 2:00 a.m., when I woke gagging on mucus and then kept up by hunger.  I finally gave in and had the corn dogs and cocoa because they were the most quiet and least scent-creating things to make at that hour.

Went back to bed and slept until eight, back to rest, read and mostly doze at eleven.  Finally got up at 3:00 p.m.  Ate dinner at, around 7:00 and am ready for bed again.  I was not hungry, even after not eating, but made myself heat up the soup.  Then, heat up another one and have toast with it.  On a roll for twos, I guess.  The Russel Stover chocolates were for medicinal purposes only.  Honest.  The sugar alcohols are slightly, ummm, well, they help you, well, I just have to say it, poop, and with so little fiber in my body today, my colon will thank me tomorrow, fersure.

It was nice to sleep so much today.  You just cannot discount the benefits of naps.

I am taking all of my meds.  I have stopped with the antihistamines because I think they are blocking the fluids in my middle ears from draining.  Just popped a couple of generic decongestants, and hope that works.  I really am not fond of waking up with the whole mucus gagging thing.  Enough fun already.

Off to bed.

Oh, og, oog, I called yesterday's friend.  As assertive as I was with her at lunch about making a big freaking deal about who pays, she is just the same old person today again.  We have an agreement that we each pay our own whatever, lunch, snacks, beverages, stuff.  And still she creates a little scene each time, dragging in whatever poor, hapless clerk, waiter, salesperson is stuck taking care of us.

So, yesterday I took a stand, one that I have taken twice before, but she is such a backslider about this stuff.  The stand is that if she fusses about paying for my meal, that the meal (or snack or whatever) about which she is fussing and making a scene will be the last one that we have together.  Today I had to make the same standard for telephone conversations.  Lordy.  It is too much.  My guess is that, from her relating familial things, this is the way they all do business.  Everyone having a long, torturous scene over who pays for whatever.  Same thing for where to go or what to do together.

It is too much.  I cannot have this keep happening.  I just cannot.  And, it is not because I am feeling so crappy.  Hell, even when I am well, this just wears me down all the time, all the long days that she needs for all her stuff.  I am certain that this makes me a selfish, opinionated freaked-out brat.  So be it.  Fuck.

Today's GP (You know, I think that making one of these is the highpoint of each day.  How sad is that.):

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 8

Thud.

That was me falling off the health wagon.  I made a nice splat.

Interjecting here to say that I just read this and whilst it might not seem to be strictly about food and all that, it really is about the process of becoming not only healthier, but closer to the person that I want to be, which can only be a good thing.  If I do not change some of the other stuff in my life, then just eating well, exercising (yes, I intend to do more than think about that...eventually) is not going to mean anything.  Have to work on being healthier in body, heart, soul, spirit and in relationship all at the same time.

Breakfast:  Nothing
Lunch:  Salad, lemon wedges for dressing; scallops, broiled, 6; baked potato, butter & sour cream, ate half; fresh roll, ate half, with butter; grilled vegetables, ate all; 6 oz. glass of wine, yep, all of it, approx. 1 cup creamed rice and chicken soup, sigh, all of it, with lemon.
Dinner:  2 ears of corn, butter, salt

In my defense, if you spread out everything that I ate for lunch over the entire 24 hours of today, it does not seem so bad.

This friend is the one from yesterday.  Last evening's phone conversation went well and then today's conversations went all to hell.  It is like a toddler testing you.  She gets all agree-y and then goes back full force and then some.

So, anyway.  I pick her up and she immediately begins with the weird stories, which I love by the way.  She either has known everyone on the North American continent, or reads enough of the tabloids to know just enough about everyone famous or infamous to weave stories about them.  I quail to know what she would know if she had computer access.  Past chats have included surprisingly intimate details about the Macy dynasty (or any other large, industrial or business enterprise) and all of their paramours and extended families, the movers and shakers on the entire Eastern seaboard and most of the players  cooks  chefs  celebrities on the Food Network, including the one who lives just down the street from one of her sons in the Hamptons and who was rude and selfish as a pig about helping out a Make-A-Wish sick kid.  Hmmm, I always thought that pigs were extremely generous, especially when it comes to their bacon.  Yeah, but what do I know.

Oh, and there are those stories that she keeps telling me about some diet doctor who was killed by his mistress, who was sent to jail and my friend just happened to be her cell-mate.  All right, I am making up the part about the cell-mate, but the story is very long and detailed about all kinds of other stuff about those people, whoever the heck they are.

It just occurs to me that she does not seem to know anyone or about anyone west of the Mississippi.  Ooooh, that was fun to type!

Anyway.

Big Picture-wise, none of this matters.  Really.  Except that she keeps asking for my opinion about what one of these famous people did and when I eventually am forced to reply, she brings in some other information that nullifies my opinion, you know, like it really matters anyway, but it is tiring to constantly be told that I am wrong about everything.

So, I keep asking myself why I spend time with her and it is because I like her and most of the time her stories, true or not, are amusing, but only if I manage to avoid replying.  So, for the past month or so, whenever she mentions anyone or anything I just say that I know nothing about who or what that person or thing is.  She then throws up her hands, literally, and says something like, "Oh, why am I asking you, why would I think that you would know anything."  I just smile and offer her a french fry.  It is mostly working.

Except for today.  Today she would not be denied.  I kept smililng and she kept insisting and I had trouble not letting any giggles leak out.  But, by the time our waitress finally came over, I was worn down sufficiently so that I ordered a meal like the ones I used to order before I decided to get healthyier.  Alrighty, let me be honest and rephrase that...before I decided to get healthy.  Yes, it is true.  I have no backbone or will power.

This is a small family restaurant, where you can order just about anything, but they have these meal things that include appetizer (like salad or soup course), entree, sides, wonderful homemade breads, dessert and wine.  I ordered.  Whilst I always refuse the alcohol, I asked for a glass of red today.  My friend asked me if I would drink her wine, I said "no."  She asked if I would eat her soup, I said "no."  She asked if I would eat her dessert.  I said, "No."  So, she ordered soup, wine and dessert right away, and then told the waitress all of the other things that she did not want, finally ordering the lamb.

I ordered my favorite.  I got the most wonderful scallops, perfectly broiled, which she criticized because they were not brown enough on one side, her lamb because it was too salty, her soup because she forgot between the time she ordered and when it was brought to the table that it was a cream soup and it was too salty, and on and on.  I called the waitress over, asked her to bring a bowl of the other soup for my friend and to put it on my bill.  It is a tiny place, with excellent accoustics and she patted me on the shoulder before she dashed off to bring the other soup.

The entire meal was complaints and stories and more complaints.  I ate every morsel of my meal, which was very healthy, by the way, but should really be a meal and some taken home for a light dinner or breakfast.  I did not lick the plates, but I did think about it.  I drank my entire glass of wine.  I ate nearly an entire roll.  I ate the scorned cream soup, which was amazing, especially when drizzled with the fresh lemon our sweet waitress brough for me when she saw me eating it.  I ate nearly half of my baked potato.  It had butter and sour cream on it; not a lot, but it should have had none.  I ate my entire salad, very healthy, lemon instead of salad dressing.  I did leave something, though, a 75% tip.  Well, she earned it.

However, since I have been eating so reasonably this past week, it was way to much, which I would have realized had I been eating more slowly, you know, like a normal person.

I was exhausted.  Can you deplete your adrenals in an hour?  Even if you cannot, I think that I did.  At least I declined dessert, although I am kind of wanting it right now.  Alas.

I also had an upset stomach from eating all of that stuff and barely made it to the restroom, where I left most of it behind.  Literally and metaphorically.  Was not so funny then, but it makes me laugh now.  

My friend wanted to go to the mall.  I declined, but had earlier agreed to take her grocery shopping and we did that.  An hour and a half later, we loaded the car and started for home.  She wanted to go out for coffee, which she kept talking about all day, saying that she could not have any because her doctor put her on a special diet.  I declined, reminding her that we both had fresh meat that needed to be refrigerated soon enough.  The ride to her house was punctuated by her thoughts that it really was not that warm out and that raw meat could be left out for hours without danger.  I kept driving.

Today's lessons are many.

Do not think that you have learned or relearned something about how you want to be in relationship with someone, because you might be closer, but you are not fully there and the Universe will bring you back to that lesson as many times as is needed.

It is in your best interest to not use food to self-medicate unpleasant feelings or uncomfortable interpersonal issues away.  If you do, you have to buy a bottle of Imodium and take some right away so that you can finish shopping for groceries.

If you are already feeling like crap, allowing yourself to get all tense about anything is not going to help you feel better. Even when you try to make it appear that you are playing 'nice', if you really do not have your heart in it, the other person might never notice or know, but you will and you will feel guilty and ashamed for not being your best self.  Although, acting all nice and everything is certainly preferable to acting as bitchy as you feel.  Truth be told, acting like a nice person is never a wasted effort.



Sometimes you just have to accept someone for who they are and get over yourself.  And, that means accepting the other person.  You can accept yourself for who you are, but that sounds like a very bad habit in which to indulge; it is much better to try to be a better person.

I cannot tell if I feel better, infection-wise, or not.  I guess that is a good thing, though.

And, speaking of guilt, another pleasure for the day:

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 7

Goodness.  A week.

I am better today.  Feeling more sick, but with a greatly improved outlook.  Maybe a better attitude, as well, not sure.  But, more hopeful, at any rate.

Breakfast:  2 eggs, over easy; 3 strips of well-done, although not too crisp, bacon, fat blotted off; tiny bowl of fruit, small cubes of cantaloupe, watermelon, 2 slices of some kind of red apple, not the crispy kind and two red grapes.
Lunch:  Pho, with the works, flank, brisket, tendon and tripe; 3 spring rolls; can of diet coke.
Dinner: The spring rolls leftover from lunch.
Lots of water.

Today was morning coffee with my friends.  It began as coffee and maybe someone would have a roll or a muffing or toast or something like that, but it has morphed into actual breakfast.  So, breakfast was at a restaurant, the second time we have been there.

The group likes to try new places.  Some are worth a return visit, some not.  This place, today, is kind of weird.  The staff runs hot and cold and you would think that you could not tell such a thing from only two visits, but apparently if the staff is just weird enough, you really can tell, even on the first visit.

The first time there, I was the first to arrive.  Another woman and I live way south of everyone else, so we get to drive the longest distance.  We live on opposite sides of the county and cannot ride together, but we are always the first to get wherever we are going.  So, I get there and the hostess welcomes me and asks something like how can she help me and I reply that I will be dining with five friends.  She stares at me.  She looks down at her desk/counter.  She looks back up at me and asks, "Do you mean now?"  I mumbled something like, "Ummm, yes."  However, in my head I was saying, "Nah, I was thinking sometime in August, maybe on a Thursday.  And, maybe you could pick me up, because this is a heck of a long way to drive." 

Anyway, she huffed and puffed and tried to blow my house down, but my house was in another county and she failed, which did nothing to improve her mood.  She did, however, lead me to a table that would accommodate five people and said to let her know if all six of us showed up and she would find another chair for us.

Today was slightly better, but just as amusing.  So, anyway, I had this great, hardly carby breakfast and then went shopping for stuff to do with my mentee and stopped in for fat quarters and some other fabric at a friend's store.

Then, I went for pho.  Oh, man, I love that stuff.  A huge bowl of steaming broth that cooks the meats and the extras, pure and unadulterated bliss.  Comfort food of the highest order.  The noodle shop I visited today (one of three that are my favorites) tosses in a couple of perfectly crafted meatballs, fine textured, strangely spiced.  Ahhhh.  Just one more reason to visit Vietnam.

It was too long a time walking and doing and looking and talking to my friend.  She sent me home with a Michael Cox book; I think it is Glass in Time, but I cannot really remember.  I took the book and myself to bed, got 21 pages read, then the drowsing cat beside me drew me into my own nap.  Waking, I felt much better, still do.

Feeling too ill to do much of anything useful, I checked all the computer stuff and one was a link to the Peace Pilgrim.  I read the article Steps Toward Inner Peace.  You know how things come into life, awareness, just when you need them?  This was one of those occasions for me. 

One area with which I have been struggling is one of the older (than me, even!) women for whom I provide social contact.  Actually, I consider her a friend, but that is how our relationship began, gosh, maybe eight years ago.  Wow.  Anyway, she has her own special personality and I have been feeling drained and weary the past dozen or so times I have taken her out.  She does have another friend, and is close to her family, even though they live far away.  They talk on the on the phone and her sons are always sending her photos via their cellphone.

But, I am the one who takes her for most of her shopping, particularly to the mall.  This mall is a near-hour drive from here and the days we do that are long, often ten or twelve hours.  It is great and we have a good time, but the days are just too long and I am guessing that it is because I have not been feeling well for a long time.  I feel stressed just thinking about how a simple lunch turns into an eight hour ordeal. 

I mean, how selfish can I possibly be?  Yeah, that selfish.  However, reading that article, well, it was like a reinforcement of all of the stuff that is important to me, stuff that I have not been practicing very effectively.  Anyway, I called my friend and had the nicest, and shortest, conversation I think that we have ever had, at least since the early days of our friendship.  I had the opportunity to be exactly what she needed.  Man, that feels nice.  We can go to lunch, walking in the mall and get her some groceries tomorrow without me feeling all ashamed of myself.

I am hungry, so I will have a couple of snap pea pods and go to bed, to read and more dozing with the kitty.

I even felt well enough for more guilty pleasure:

And, what the hell is wrong with the label function?

Simple thoughts

Did you hear the one about the old babe who had a PVD/Posterior Vitreous Detachment and then had a second one four days later?  Well, it seems that having that little heart thing a month ago, plus the joint pain, plus the nerve damage, and the high blood pressure was not enough to help her see (pun coming) that she needed to regain her healthy body and the general health that comes with it.

She needed to be faced with the risk of having the remains of her sight lost due to the little bleed-outs in her retinas and the detachments and the flashers before she was able to take all of this crap seriously.  Lordy.

The simple things in a life are what seem to matter the most.  Forgetting that is just a darn shame.  Big problems are reduced when a client keeps thanking you over and over and keeps asking to shake your hand just because of that little thing you did for them.

When the next client does a little of the same and tells you that you are a nice person and that you are the first person with whom he has felt comfortable in a very long time, well, that is the icing on that cookie and that cookie is one that you can safely enjoy without further assault to your vision.

It is a lovely thing when the person who felt most threatened by your volunteering has become one of your most ardent supporters, which is important in an increasingly uncertain, local government, economic environment.

That he has a larger pole up his ass than you do is an opportunity to mind your own hubris before it can come back and bite you in the ass.  Frankly, it is a blessing, and you get to be grateful not only for his transformation, but for the gentle reflection he offers to your own attitudes and behaviors.

So, anyway, there is this guy who comes into the library on a fairly regular basis.  I do not know who he is, but I see him there all the time.

Today he has a new haircut.  I see him walking towards me and I think, "Man, that is so cool...he is manifesting his inner Beatle."  The mop-top bowl cut is actually quite cute on him.

Then, we pass and I turn to look at the back of the new haircut and I think, "Man, do you not have any friends who are good enough friends to share with you that, from behind, your head looks like a furry penis?"

It is very sad, very, very sad, when a local organization, one dedicated to the needs of veterans, accepts the help of a good person in utilizing a significant part of their facility to bring in much needed funds, and then after learning from him, decide to eliminate him from the program he designed, built and successfully ran.

It would be fine if the reason for dumping the good person was other than intentionally using him to develop the program so that they could take over and run it themselves.  Had they been upfront about their plans, no one would have been surprised or hurt in the transition.  But, seriously, to use someone like that is just plain shameful.

I am dedicated to that organization and when I heard what had happened I went to the source, where the suspicions of the dumped, good person were confirmed.  Bad enough to do that, but how much worse to be so blasé, so matter-of-fact and unashamed about it.  I could not be more shocked if it had happened to me.  I am hoping that writing it down will help me to process what seems like a complete betrayal of principles, beliefs and honor.   I am stunned and see no future time when this is not going to bother me.  I have also severed my connection to them, which makes me more sad that I can even think about.

I want to be light-hearted about this, you know, how breaking up is so hard to do (feel free to sing along), but I thought that I could do my little, peripheral stuff there and it could be a sort of connection to my brother, and there just is not any reasonably light aspect that I can find, which is another disappointment for a positive view girl like me.  Heartbroken and a little scared that such a thing could happen.

I get to play with the babies and their mommy tomorrow.  She, the mommy, was ill last week and I could give her only one day.  Maybe she will feel well enough to play outside with us.  More likely, she will use the time to catch up on all the stuff that was put aside so that she and her babies could play outside every day.

She is a lovely mom and I adore her.  I think that we will surprise her with home-made pizza for lunch.  One of her favorites.

I am a big girl.  I can pull up my big girl panties and get on with whatever needs getting on.  Still, today's disappointment and subsequent split with one of my favorite organizations is so sad.  People get to be human.  I get to let them do that.  I get to accept people for who they are, because, you know, we are all simply doing the best that we can, here on this pretty, little planet.  I get all that.  But, if I really do, then why does my heart ache so much about something that did not directly happen to me?

I have to release this.  Holding on to it serves no one.  Besides, it feels as though I am giving some of my power away to them, and they do not deserve to have anything from me.  This totally and completely sucks.

New process, first batch, fresh lesson

You know, when I poured that soap yesterday, I knew, like really knew in my heart, that I had stirred it too long.  I tried to pretend that it was going to be fine, and if I had stayed up all night with it and kept testing to see if the loaf could be sliced, well, I might have gotten actual bars out of it.

But, I did not pay attention to how long I was grooving on the while stirring thing.
I did not pay attention to the environment in which I was making the stuff.
I did not stay up all night.
I did not test it for slicing.

I waited until this morning and got this.

It gelled beautifully, I swear.  But, I stirred it too long.  I also think that standing out there in the cool and lovely afternoon distracted me and I clearly remember that there was nothing between the bottom of the rockin' purple pan and the open-work wrought iron table.  Rats.

It is find to enjoy the lovely Autumn day, especially the sky, which totally knocked my socks off, but you have to pay attention to what you are doing, for crying out loud.

I did more things wrong than one would think to be humanly possible.  It is, however, a lovely soap, lathers beautifully and has that nice, fresh scent that only new soap can give your nose such pleasure.

It seems like the only thing I did right was to not have enough lye to make all three batches.  So, anyway, when I get back from the dentist and the bank and work, where I have to check out the newly remodeled workspace and find out how tomorrow is going to go, I will take my new 1.5 quart crock pot out of the box and slowly rebatch this crumbly mess. 

Well, off to chop up the corpse so that it melts down more effectively and then to brush my teeth so that I do not totally gross out my dentist.  She likes me a lot and I would like to keep it that way.