Saturday, March 30, 2019

Oh no, oh no, oh no!






Last night something happened to me that seldom happens.  I was sick, painfully sick.  I was going to say sick as a dog but I’ve noticed that dogs are hardly ever sick.  They can eat a decaying hotdog out of the garbage, lick some slurpy liquid off the sidewalk and still dance around and chase a stick until your arm comes out of its socket.

I was in such discomfort that I begged God to help me.  I writhed in pain  - how do you writhe in pain?  You turn hither and yon and rub where it hurts and stretch out and do it all again - and then I said, “Oh God, oh God, oh God.  Help me.”  Why would I think that after months, maybe years of no direct communication, God would drop everything at 2 a.m. on a Friday night and say, “Rise, take up your pallet and walk”   But you know what?  God did help me.  I took three sequential baths and walked around and got out my hot water bottle and did a few other things that are too gross to mention.  Finally, soaking wet from my third bath, I wrapped myself in a big towel and got in bed.  I tried my breathing technique and finally fell asleep.  When I woke up four hours later, the pain was gone.  I still felt very tentative about my stomach but I could manage it and I could walk around without wishing I was dead.

The takeaway here (besides God) is that sound, as in SOUND, even whining sound is very helpful when you are in pain.  Feel free to talk out loud about how much it hurts.  Oh, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Groan and say oh, no, oh, no. oh, no.   Fortunately, I live alone.  

I thought I should write this all down in case you are ever in that situation.




Wednesday, March 27, 2019

Suborning: that's when you have your baby in a submarine.




We hear these new awkward words every day.  Our drunk uncle tells 
us what they mean.


Collusion:  This is when I’m driving and a dentist in a 
Range Rover crashes into me.


Perjury:  That’s where you go to throw up when you have an 
eating disorder


Suborning:  That’s when you have your baby in a submarine


Subpoena:  That’s the green soup I don’t like. 


 Delegitimize:  That’s when you try to delete something by resizing it 
in a minescule font so nobody can read it.

Dossier:  That’s when you can't stay awake during Roma.


Fisa!   That stands for Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act   
That’s some serious sh*t.

Thursday, March 7, 2019

Oh, Will, wherefore art thou?

This morning I showered early took my ipad into the kitchen and listened to a YouTube meditation while I tidied up.  I felt calm and in control.  I was going to fast for the next ten hours.  I was a grown up with will power to spare.

AT 8:45, hunger began to knock. Ping, ping, ping.  I made this to protect me:
No kale but avocado and red cabbage

I wrapped the bowl to keep it fresh.  It sat on the counter undisturbed.


Around 9:05, moving robotically, like The Manchurian Candidate, I opened the freezer and found this.
48 ingredients,40 of them not food




I microwaved it, cut it into dainty sections and ate it while moving around the room. 

Around 10:35, I was surprised to find this on the shelf and then in my hand:
How did you get in my house?
It held seven three inch tamales stuffed with a smidgen of ground beef in mild chili sauce
I ate four of them michrowaved and three straight out of the can. 

It was barely 11 a.m. and I had been taken out.  AFTER UMPTEEN ROUNDS OF THERAPY, TAPPING, EMDR, HYPNOSIS, DEVOTION TO ECKHART TOLLE, DEVOTION TO MEISTER ECKHART, OPRAH AND DEEPAK'S 21 DAY "HEAL YOUR ENTIRE SELF" CHALLENGE, THE SEVEN DAY CELERY JUICE LIFE CHANGING CLEANSE, FOURTEEN DAYS TO A TEENAGE  LIVER, HARNESS YOUR HORMONES, GET YOUR GUT IN GEAR, GIVE THE BOOT TO BAD THOUGHTS, SAY HI TO YOUR GENIUS MIND, BEGONE BROWN FAT, HEAL YOUR ASS, why was I not armed against the ambush by a posse of bad hombres? 

Is life, as one of my children puts it, just one long act of de-assholefying yourself and then you die?

It is 6:00 p.m. and here's the good news and the bad news.  The good news:  After the last tamale and a thorough tooth brushing, I forgot about food for the rest of the day.  I answered my e-mails.  I wrote this post for my blog after which I de-cluttered the lower kitchen cabinets.
   
You're going to miss me
 For the "home exchange area" at the local recycling center.
 
And the bottom drawer of my dresser.
I'm going to miss you
For BigBrothersBigSisters.

The bad news:  there is no bad news. The same robot that made me eat also reclaimed the day and got hold of it.  Maybe learning that I could do that was the lesson here.  All is not lost over a 6-inch pizza and seven three inch tamales.  Somebody gave me a shove and said, "Get over it and keep going."