Wednesday, February 10, 2016

I need to learn to cook...without sugars, beans, gluten, vinegar, dairy, most salt, or processed foods

What is left when you delete sugar and other sweeteners, beans, gluten, vinegar, dairy, most salt, and processed foods? Meat and broccoli, that's what. And it all takes cooking. And spatulas. And spoons. And turning on the oven. And finding the least burnt hotpads.

This whole Paleo (but I'm not calling it Paleo) regimen means cooking, and I've never felt less like cooking -- and all the washing the dishes, drying the dishes, putting away the dishes, and wiping the stove/counter/floor afterwards -- in my whole life.

I just want to buy hot pizzas from the deli at Hyvee. No plate. No utensils. Throw away the carton when I'm done. Dinner over.

It's just so pointless, dinner.

And then there's lunches. Thought. Thought has to go in them. Don't cook, then you have nothing to put in your lunch bag for tomorrow. Can't just buy some crap food at the Kwik Trip off the roller bar -- which would be quick and cheap and uncomplicated -- because everything quick and cheap and uncomplicated is full of sugars, salt, gluten, etc.

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Dog was ill; seems to be doing okay now

I came home Monday night to find blood and diarrhea in the kitchen, dining room, and living room. Nothing upstairs, which is carpeted. I'm assuming it was the beef marrow bone he had Sunday night. He seems fine now, albeit subdued, and accepts his temporary diet of a bit of white rice and some plain Stonyfield yogurt that has the probiotics. I asked for some help and the downstairs is all cleaned up now. I had to put up with a lot of "you should" and "you're too sensitive" and "this is nothing to get upset about" and "this is nothing; you can tell you've never had kids" to get the help, but I did get the help. 

I don't think anybody quite understands that I no longer seem to know how to roll with things. It's partly that I don't seem to have shaken off the fear that I developed during the bad times. It's like the ground is still not solid under my feet. And then, or perhaps they're related, I'm simply not physically well right now. I'm so tired of not being able to breathe and having to nebulize. Anyway, maybe I am a wimp now. All I know is that something difficult or unpleasant happens or someone yells at me at work or there are layoff discussions like there were yesterday and I feel like I've been hit by a truck. Everything seems to be a physical blow.

Buddha seems okay. I'm keeping a close watch on him. The floors are fine. I think a couple of my throw rugs won't come clean and will have to be discarded. 

He will never get another beef bone as long as he lives. 

Monday, January 4, 2016

The Tibetan girls visit

Lilly and Bella paid a short visit and joined Buddha on the couch, keeping a safe distance from his wagging tail. I'm sorry to say that Ginger, the third Shih Tzu, had to be euthanized NY eve. She was the charming little dog who would stop on a walk and run up to a parked car to admire herself reflected in the doors. If a car was too dirty, she moved on to a cleaner car. I will miss her. She was only 9. 

Thursday, December 24, 2015

Going for Christmas Eve

I've decided to go. I suspect it's not the office bug, but a combo of Mr. Asthma and allergies. I started the crisis prednisone and I'm going. It's an hour's drive to Hanover, MN. We had wintry mix yesterday, but the roads don't look too bad and temps will be very warm, 29F - maybe 32F.

I will be leaving Buddha alone at home because Karen's daughter and son-in-law are not dog people and their garage isn't heated. Karen is not bringing her dogs, either, as far as I know. It will be a long day into evening for him, so I was worried about it, but I counted on my fingers and it really isn't any longer than when I'm gone for a work day + 1.25 hour total commute + stop for an errand. 

I am driving myself so I can leave when I think it's time. It would be cozier to ride with Karen, sister, and adult son in Karen's car, but I like my independence.  
Also, her electrical system has gone wonky and her windows no longer roll down. For some reason, that makes me nervous. 

Speaking of nervous, worries are:

--Everyone will know each other except me 
--I am wearing casual clothes and they will all be dressed up. Or, the other way around.
--I will have a fit, cardiac arrest, stroke, or asthma crisis and embarrass myself in front of strangers
--I will eat something weird and fart
--My hair is falling out
--I will need to use the bathroom more than is considered normal for a person
--Road conditions there
--Road conditions back
--No one will like me
--I will have no presents to open and so will sit there remembering my theater work and trying to present an air of jollity and smiling when actually I was the youngest child of my family and have never lost the expectation of the biggest heap of presents is mine because it always was. It was the one good thing about holidays in my family. (I have bought bakery cookies as a hostess gift, and gifts for Karen, adult son, and grandchildren, and dog cookies for sister who owns dogs. I'm also bringing two gifts I received in the mail last night so I can have something to open. Also, I'm 50 years old, for god's sake, get over the pile of presents thing already, Katie John!)
--I will be driving home in the dark for an hour. As the years go by, I am less comfortable driving in the dark. But it's only an hour. I will have no passengers, so I can stop without embarassment. Gas stations will be open.
--I will come home and feel that lost, alone feeling I usually feel after my rare ventures  out to humanity
--Buddha will become an elderly dog between my leaving at 2 today and coming home at midnight or 1 am, and so he have to pee sooner than usual and he will (a) burst his bladder trying to hold it in, or (b) lift his leg on my teal chairs. 
--I will spill something. Karen's daughter and SIL are not dog people and they decorate in colors like Gray Mist and Faded Cream. I feel more comfortable with dog people who, in my experience, are more blase about messes. And I like color. What the hell is Faded Cream? 
--I will look weird
--I will talk too much about dogs. I hear myself doing that. Fat lady who lives alone, reads a lot, and has a dog she talks to like he's a person. (Actually, all of that is true, so why pretend to be someone else?)

Anyway, I'm going. God, this is so out of my comfort zone, though. 

Maybe I could put an extra shirt in the car in case I do spill on myself?