Slacking

Or, maybe writing would be slacker behavior.  You know, doing this instead of any of the thousands of useful things I should be doing around here. 

I had to get a refill on Charlie's medicine and stayed to chat at the vet clinic.  Of course.  They agreed to take more books, those sweet babies.  Plus, they can take the leftovers to the charity shop down the road who does not want take any more of my crap, even though my personal stuff is really high quality and lots of it is virtually unused.  Seems they like my crap, they just feel that they do not have any more room for any of it for a while. 

Now, they will not know that what the clinic babes bring over was originally mine and I am trying to not be conflicted about this, you know, like in it might be slightly dishonorable if the books were mine to begin with and only passed through the filter of what the clinic babes do not want.  It is not like I am stopping strangers on the street and asking them to pretend that my stuff is really their own, personal donation or anything like that.  Still, it seems a fine point and I suppose that I could collect what the clinic babes do not want and then take it into town to the other charity shop that will take anything.  No hesitation, just pull up in your car, open the doors and they will remove the boxes and send you on your way. 

At this point it does not make any difference, because I am still sick, only slightly, marginally better, but sick, still, and I just do not have the strength to haul anything anywhere.  I should feel good about continuing to rid myself of this stuff, but I thought that I would be finished divesting by this time.  Hell, it has been a year since the first trickles began seeping out of here.  It should be all gone by now.  There should be so much stuff gone that I would be experiencing fairly regular moments of regret that something useful is gone.

Then there is the whole issue of all of the projects that need completing, some of which could bring in some cash.  Yet, I slack.

Just the slacker in me. 
I probably should have named this blog properly.   
Slacker...and too unmotivated to really give a darn.

Tired

Today was too long and I am too old and still not well enough to manage such a strenuous day. 

Keeping in mind that what I actually do is not difficult in the sense of what strenuous really means, but it is within the context of what I am able to do.  In fact, I was going from one errand to another and there was a two-woman road crew that was making small repairs to the road, and I remember thinking, as I was driving past them, that I really do not have much physical work in my life. 

I see and know about so many people who really do physically demanding work and I always feel a little of my inner slacker coming through when I see it or think about it.  I really do not work very hard.

When it comes to mental work, I am right up there with just about anyone you could name, but my best bet is that even those other mental-workers have some aspect of physical activity in their lives.  I know that even T, who spends most of his time in his wheelchair makes time each day to work out at the Y or at home.  Me, well, I do not do that.  Even when I am making art or sewing or messing up a batch of soap, or whatever the heck else that I do around here, it is not hard work in that sense. 

It occurs to me, fairly regularly, that I am not as physical as I should or could be.  I do not because it hurts.  It hurts in a way that pain support cannot help.  I make no apologies for that, but even a day like today simply exhausts me.  Today found me at the dentist, at work figuring out the logistics of how we are going to serve clients within the context of the remodel, visiting the gallery to prepare for the next exhibit, the post office, the bank, and the grocery store.  Once at home I did laundry (up and down a tall staircase), made chicken curry soup...oh, my, will it ever be ready to eat?...and I have to take a rest before I can shower and wash my hair.  This here, sitting at the computer with a fan blowing directly on me, is the rest.

Seriously, that that little effort could bring me down and make me sweat and ache all over is just ridiculous, insane, stupid and astounding.  Heck, even I can see that. 

I do not think that it makes me a bad person or anything, but I really and truly do not work very hard.  Well, maybe it does make me a bad person, but even that thought is not going to have any effect on what I do, you know.  Sad, but true.  Enough of this.

I have to share that giving myself the name of Simpleton is one of the most bestest things that I have ever done for myself.  I have been calling myself that for at least a year or so and I think it completely suits me.  Making it the title of this place was brilliant.  Every time I see it, and my eyes looking back at me, well, it just makes me tingle all over.  It is like a little hug each time I look at it.  Even better than having Jimmy Smits as my fantasy boyfriend, and that is saying some.

The soup cannot be ready yet, but I am going to put in the coconut milk and thicken it up a bit and have some because I am unable to resist that seductive aroma any longer.

Slowing down

I have to begin eating more inexpensively.  Groceries are just too darn expensive.  I have been trying to have a garden here for nearly three years.  I had one, a nice large one for decades, but you know how it is, you get busy with family stuff and then someone plants grass and there you are.  But, I want another garden space.  Interestingly enough, I can plant all the flowers that I want, which I do not want, and that is fine.  I want a food garden, but I need permission.  Those who give permission are not.  Giving it.  I do have this small patch of rhubarb, crowns from my daughter's garden and next summer they will be old enough to harvest.  I am so looking forward to rhubarb preserves.  Lots for me and lots to share.

I tried this year to plant food crops around the ornamental plants in the front yard, but they did not grow and some of them completely disappeared.  We used to have a lovely garden in the back, but the preferred plantings there are turf grasses.

This is not about the darn gardening, but not being able to grow my own food is at the core of the whole grocery problem, or at least part of it.  We have all of this outstanding space and nothing but grass growing there.  I do not get to choose.  Were there a committee who decides these things, I would not be on it.  Actually, I think that there is a committee, but there seems to be room for only one person.  And, that ain't me.

I do have this plan for next year, though.  There is this thing that you can do with pairs of big, plastic tubs that you cut up and put together and use an indirect watering system, like, ummmmm, where you use textiles or ropes or some damn thing to wick the water into the soil.  Damn, I wish I could remember what that was called.

Anyway, if I haunted the charity shops and found suitable containers, I could totally do that next year.  They, the containers, would be on the patio, which no one uses, although I used to when I smoked, so I would not be damaging any turf and I could grow a lot of food in them, maybe even beets and carrots and onions.  Oh, yeah, baby, that could so work.  I would just have to haul in some soil and buy seeds.  I am also thinking that they could look kind of cool and decorative, as well.   Well, that is my hope so that I do not find myself on the wrong side of someone's opinion.  Lordy.

So, anyway, got to save money on vittles.

No more convenience foods, although I do not know how I will survive without my Progresso chicken noodle soup. It is my budget and I can make that exception.  Whew!  That was a close one.

No forgetting to take food with me when I am out and about and then having to grab something at the drive-through.  That does not often happen, but every little bit helps.

I do not think that I can give up Saturday morning coffee with the friends, so that is off the table.

Plus, I am not eating enough flesh.  Really.  I have diabetes and a vegetarian diet is simply not working well for me.  Besides, I am always so hungry and that inevitably leads to extra snacks and meals.

So, I dragged out the slow-cooker and used it on Monday.  Three days later I am still enjoying the lovely soup that I made.  It was supposed to be stew, but it would not thicken, so it is soup.  Really lovely soup, and there is a huge chunk of meat that has not been shredded into the broth.  It was a sandwich this morning for breakfast, but I have to noodle around and find more things to do with it.

I will also be going back to making a week's worth of oats and rice again.  If it is already there, waiting for me in the refrigerator, then I have no excuse for wanting something quick and not-so-great.

I also have to start meal planning.  Man, I am so bad at that.  I used to do it, like decades ago, when my daughter was still little and even later when she was still living here, although I was already slacking off then.  But, it has to be done.  Oh, gods, I am going to be so cranky about this. 

Part of the problem is that I am too busy to make recipes.  Since I retired, I am busier than ever.  I sometimes wonder how I had time for a paying job, but I did, although I was always exhausted after a day of being on my feet and trying to satisfy customers.  I was pretty darn good at that, but it takes a lot out of your energy bank account.  And, I like plain food, like the soup.  I do not like fussing with more than a couple of ingredients or making anything that takes more than a few minutes to throw together.  That is why the slow-cooker will be nice.  You just toss everything in there and forget it for a few hours or overnight.

That is my inner slacker talking.  Well, truth be told, I am a fully invested outer slacker as well for things that do not excite me, get me all juicy and motivated. 

So, food.  Easy and healthy food.  The lovely beefy and vegetable-y soup will last through the weekend, but I am going to have to come up with something to buy for the next go-round.  I am thinking that a nice chicken curry would be nice.  Yum, nice.  And, I have to keep looking on the Internet for more slow-cooker recipes, but ones that do not have soup mixes or salad dressing or other convenience ingredients, all full of salts and sugars.  That would be such a huge step backwards.  There have to be healthy recipes out there, right?

Oh, rats, it just occurred to me that if I am going to do this here, that I will have to, or should, take pictures of the stuff I make, as in keeping a decent visual record in addition to all of the spewing.  I do not know if I should do that.  The food I make is delicious, but kind of ugly.  I do not want to look back on this project and unintentionally disgust myself.   Maybe there is some kind of photo resource that I could join and pay for beautiful food images.  I would not pass the images off as photos of my own food, but could say that this is what my food would look like, were it not so freaking ugly.

Aw, crap, I have to do labels, too.  Man.

Sheesh, already messed up.  Forgot the recipe.  I am too tired.  Maybe tomorrow.