Thursday, July 19, 2012
I chose to take the dog on a nice long ramble this morning. The hay was cut and taken out last week, so the farm is like a 100 acre lawn, albeit a brown and stubby one (we could use some rain here, please.) We went into all the corners and she had a lovely sniff, I just looked around happily, then we started for home and our respective water bowls and glasses. The I noticed...
...the Brush Hog was gone.
A Brush (or Bush, depending upon brand, I think) Hog isn't a small thing. It's like a 4'x4' single blade lawnmower that hooks to a tractor, made of metal and probably weighs...I'm guessing here...400 pounds, with sharp edges. In other words, you don't just drop it in the truck of your car and leave. I rooted around in the underbrush and tall weeds, but sure enough, no Brush Hog.
I usually don't think of this as being the sort of place where things get stolen - most folks don't even lock their doors (being a city kid, I have to - it'd drive me nuts otherwise.) But it was looking like someone had, in fact, stolen the Brush Hog.
So I got in the car, mentally loaded for bear, and went off in search. I'm pretty liberal about lending tools and machinery, but the borrowers always at least have the courtesy to mention it to me. I checked the farms of the guys who cut the hay - no dice. (And no Brush Hog.) I checked the grounds of one of our local known thieves - no Brush Hog. Asked a neighbor. No Brush Hog.
Finally it occurred to me to call the other neighbor - a good friend and generally a really good guy. I didn't see why he'd take my Brush Hog, but I was running out of options. Sure enough, he had it. Not only that, he apparently told me he had planned to take it. He'd borrowed it and not only used it, but oiled it and straightened it and whatever else one does with that sort of thing. Apparently I *cough* forgot.
So, having spent the better part of the day running all over hell and gone looking for something that I should have known was across the street, I've decided to start my new life tomorrow instead of today. I shall take a lovely, soaky bath, have a cocktail, a BLT (*with* mayonnaise, although not too much) and go to bed early. Apparently I need a little extra rest.
And when I start my day tomorrow, #1 on my list will be something about not jumping to conclusions.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
I don't know about you all, but I tend to lose weight in fits and starts. I lose five or six pounds, then slack up on my efforts. I don't think it's because I falsely feel like, "I've got this" - more like something else comes along that captures my attention. Since I've gotten some good habits in place, I don't gain back the weight, but I totally stop losing, and I just cruise along like that for a while...sometimes a really long while. Mayo on the sandwich here, extra beer there, too hot to exercise the next day....and on it goes.
I'm about half way through my weight loss journey (although when I get to the end, I may decide to do another ten pounds...it's sort of a "see how things are when I get there" deal), but like the project of the upstairs bathroom, which has been half done for over a year now, I'm tired of the project and I want it finished.
I've not only been "dieting" (let's just call it that, okay?) for years, I've been widowed now for a year and a half, been stuck with house projects for that long or longer, just generally stuck.
I think it's time to pull up my big girl britches and finish a few of these projects. Finish the !@#$ bookcases, paint the upstairs bathroom, and lose the remaining thirty-odd pounds. I'm ready for the next chapter in my life, whatever it may be, and I don't want to be carrying around the "house that grief built" - I want to head into it healthy and happy, and to do that, I need to shed a few more pounds. Not because I'm not okay the way I am, but because I know I can be better.
So instead of resting on my, um...laurels...I'm going to reboot my efforts. I'm mostly living on what the CSA feeds me each week (did I mention how shockingly good raw kohlrabi is? Sliced thinly with a sprinkle of salt - YUM) so that part is easy. The hot spell is supposed to end tonight or tomorrow, so there goes that excuse - I've been walking and lifting sporadically, but I think I'll make a plan and stick to it, what the hell, even track it here in SP.
I've learned so much from the challenges in my life - not just weight and grief, but basically the whole buffet table of setbacks and craziness - and I want to share that with others. To do that, I need to dress that part, and to do *that*, I need to shop in a smaller size.
I suck at self-discipline, so I figure the only way I can achieve these goals is to show up here and use the tools SP offers. You guys are my community, if only virtually. I've come to believe that if we can lean on one another occasionally, we can beat this weight beast.
So let's go. * knuckle bumps several Spark Friends, with shouts of WooHoo in the background*
Sunday, July 15, 2012
(Sorry. Couldn't resist.)
I actually like beets, even the canned ones. One of my favorite salads is sliced beets with oranges. Heck, I'll even eat the dreaded Harvard beets, although it's not my favorite.
Here's some more beet info and a couple recipes from NPR:
Saturday, July 14, 2012
I sure don't - have heat tolerance, that is. it was a little better when I was working full time as a landscaper, but now...pffft.
One of the reasons I moved to Central New York was that I'd had enough of Philly's "triple H threat " - hazy, hot and humid. I distinctly remember, as a child, thinking that if I could use a knife, maybe I could cut a hole in the air to breathe through. And now (thank you, global warming) it's like that here.
I don't have air conditioning because, since I live on the top of a hill, I almost always have a breeze - I pay for it (literally) in the winter, but in the summer, it's a blessing. Plus, it takes a couple days for the house to warm up inside, and I learned young how to open and close draperies and windows in a house to make the most of cooling breezes and shut out hot sun. I also know how to get up early and do all the cooking for the day before it gets too warm.
Still, this has gotten to be a bit much. It's too humid (because the temperature is close to the dew point) at 5:00 a.m. and too hot later, so I'm having a hard time finding a way to exercise.
Anybody got any suggestions?
I've heard of them, sure, but I never knew what to do with one. I belong to a CSA, and whenever they'd present me with a kohlrabi, I'd put it in the "swap" corner, where it usually had lots of company.
(See the article in the Huffington Post, entitled WTF, CSA?)
So this week I took the things home. I did a little online looking and discovered that one could eat this ... thing...raw. Perfect, since it's too hot to cook. I sliced it thinly and salted it sparingly, and, lo and behold, it's EXCELLENT! It tastes sort of like a very mild radish (I've read that it tastes like broccoli stalks, but not to me.) It's crispy and juicy and really very pleasant. I can definitely see it as part of a relish tray - crudites, to you fancy folks - maybe with a creamy yogurt dressing.
Anyway, even if you don't belong to a CSA and are therefore pretty much forced to find a way to enjoy the thing, try one. I was pleasantly surprised - maybe you will be, too.
Monday, July 09, 2012
We need to talk about where this phrase comes from. And it has nothing to do with cats.
In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, doctors believed that ranting and raving and carrying on - in short, "hysteria" - was caused by female hormones getting out of balance. Forgetting their places, as it were. The cure for this was to remove the uterus.
Yep, "hysteria" and "hysterectomy" both come from the same linguistic roots. "She's just a hysterical woman." Take her uterus out and she'll behave better.
I don't want to get into whether it worked, or the whole sexual politics of the thing. I just want people who choose this phrase to know what kind of his-tory (different linguistic root altogether) they're dredging up. Personally, I wouldn't use the phrase "hissy fit" at gunpoint.
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