Well Thank Gawd That's Over!

Whew! After yesterday I wasn't sure I was ever going to recover. I felt horrible.

After stumbling around the house at six o'clock yesterday morning, I got the cat re-settled and then went back to bed until almost nine o'clock when I got up. In the midst of some more stumbling around, I got my coffee and did a few other things. A couple of hours later I laid down again and napped until three o'clock. I hate doing stuff like that because I feel like I'm sleeping my weekend away. But I did and then I woke up, showered, dressed and went out to do the shopping.

Costco was a much happier experience this week. I got into line behind three other carts. The man immediately in front of me looked around just as the person in front of him got to the belt and started laying out their stuff.

"You have just that? Go on ahead."

Wow! Make-up for last weekend's nightmare or what? I thanked him, had my cards ready to go and wham, bam, thank ya Stan, I was out and done. It was a pleasure. I didn't even think about getting gas. I'll do that Monday morning instead of making the same mistake I made last weekend.

In all, the shopping at Costco and PetSmart took me under an hour and I was home in time for the debate.

That was interesting but predictable, although I was thrilled to see Christie step up and make points. I like Christie. I like his moxie and think that he is a good, viable candidate. My dream ticket is Trump / Christie because both are strong characters, both are outspoken and no-nonsense. Trump brings the business acumen while Christie has the political acumen. I think the two of them working together could make amazing changes in this country, building jobs and creating opportunities, getting the borders under control and undoing a whole lot of the economic damage that's been done to this nation in the past fifteen years - since Bush II was sworn in January 2001

We watched that followed by some of the analysis - equally predicable - until about eight-thirty, then hubby insisted on watching 'Wonder Woman'. Oh... My... God... How stupid is that? I ignored it, playing games on my iPad instead. He didn't comment for a change. Then he wanted to watch 'Star Trek'. That, while still cartoonish, wasn't quite as bad. I was a fan when I was a kid, so I kind of watched it between computer games.

At ten o'clock we started watching Svengoolie. It's funky and silly and definitely geared toward teenagers and/or men who haven't grown up entirely because the whole schtick is just... childish. I mean, how can you take this seriously?

But it's campy harmless fun. Dumb jokes, rubber chickens, a flimsy plywood coffin and a mix of 'horror and hilarity'. I wouldn't go so far on either side of that - little hilarity (light amusement) and less horror (sometimes the movies are laughable by today's standard), but it's humorous and sometimes informative - if you happen to have a 'thing' for B movies. Last night's was Bela Lugosi in 'Murders in the Rue Morgue' from 1932. Little better than a silent film and, based on the number of stars (two), a poor adaptation of Poe's original story.

In bed at ten thirty, after half an hour of nonsense (about all I could stomach).

This morning I actually feel human. Coffee didn't hurt that, and I got my quiche made for the week.

How to take the 'joy' out of cooking? Count the calories in what you're cooking. That's what I do because I want to make sure that I know what I'm consuming and what the chances are of losing weight. I sure do need to lose weight and I'm struggling as everyone does.

One thing I've discovered, though, is that it's not just calories. It's how the foods and nutrients interact with one another. Take my quiche, for instance. Full of protein from the eggs and the chorizo sausage (which I cooked before adding it to remove more of the fat / juices), with a reasonable amount of cheese (1 C = 880 calories / eight servings). I added broccoli and ground flax seed. After adding and dividing I found there are 326 calories per serving. Which is good - but there is a lot of fat because of the cheese, so I need to cut back elsewhere. It's important to track that stuff so that I can, and I will.

The one thing I know is that, no matter what you're eating or how 'good' it is for you, it's quantity more than quality. My biggest problem is that I love to eat. I love it and have a hard time slowing down and stopping.

Of all the addictions a person can have, eating is the one you cannot do without.You don't need to smoke or drink or do drugs but you do have to eat, and that's why losing weight, controlling your habits and portion size is such a nightmare.

Traditional diets are a joke because if you 'diet' as the tradition dictates - cutting calories but not changing habit, you are just about guaranteed to rebound once you revert to your regular behavior. That, right there, is the hardest part - making the changes lifestyle changes. Particularly if you're not the only one in the household or the one doing the cooking.

That's where the rub is for me. I have twelve hours per day in which I can be reasonable and reasoned, but it's that evening meal that's the struggle because, honest to God, hubby is a fabulous cook. Not so great in other aspects, but a fabulous cook. So I'm going to try something new.

We'll see how it goes. I've tried it before and I've had some success (thirty-five pounds a few years ago - twenty-five of which haven't found me again). I just need to get back on track, make it a real habit and stick to it. It'll be a week or two before the habit kicks in and I start seeing results - good or bad - and then I'll know what I need to do.

In the meantime, though, I'm going to go finish the laundry and get some other chores around here done.

Have a wonderful Sunday - Go... I still can't decide between the Broncos and Panthers so I'll split the difference: Go the Best Team on Sunday!

Best~
Philippa

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Chicken, Criswell, All Sorts of Good Stuff

I am so glad the weekend is here. Even though it was a short, four-day week because of the Labor Day holiday, it felt long.

Too many days of temps around 100 or so, too many too warm nights that kept me from sleep. I like between six-and-a-half and seven hours. Four doesn't do it for me and I don't think I got more than three hours straight at any given time this past week. The other four were split between trying to get comfortable and thinking "I have got to get some sleep" and just lying there in defeat while I waited to get drowsy. On hot nights it's a whole lot like doing the hokey-pokey all night long.

Put your left foot out, put your left foot in
Put your right arm out, put your right arm in
Turn it all about
Put the blanket on, put the blanket off
Put the sheet and blanket on, put the... You get the picture.

All while tossing and turning, adjusting the covers - too many, too few, they slipped, they fell.  Annoying. Even with the ceiling fan and the table fan running.

I got so desperate this week that I Googled the best way to cool a room with a table fan. Not sure I believe the result. "They" (Gary Larson's guys in the basement) say that you're supposed to point the fan out - so it draws the hot air from the room and vents it outside.

Tried that for two nights. Didn't feel any cooler. If it does make a difference, it's probably no more than one or two degrees, and I can feel that much cooler with the air drawn in from outside wafting over me. I dunno. All I do know is that it's affecting me.

I put the missing coffee canister lid (which was found, by my hubby, on the counter - where I would stake my life I had looked about eighty-eight dozen times the other morning), the fact that I nearly slept through my alarm yesterday, the fact that I forgot my chicken in the microwave yesterday morning, etc. down to sleep deprivation.

Well, I am looking forward to October and the cooler weather. No doubt, as we usually do, we'll get more warm days and nights between now and then, but with shorter days already starting, the cooler nights are worth waiting for.

Oh, and about that chicken. Just in case you're worried about my dietary habits (probably not, but oh well), I don't microwave chicken except to reheat it. I'm not into eating rubber - even though it probably would provide weight loss benefits from the chewing and attempts at digestion.

No, what happened was that we had those steaks on Monday night. I had some chicken defrosting that afternoon and hubby suggested that he toss it on the grill after cooking the steaks. Great idea! Nothing I like better than BBQ chicken, so we did.

Unfortunately, even though the grill was still hot, the chicken didn't cook all the way through. The outside looked perfect but when I got a piece to work for lunch on Tuesday, it was just about raw inside. Thank goodness for my penchant for using knives and forks! If I had bit into it I probably would have had an unfortunate consequence.

So, I cut, it "bled" (not really, but it was really red inside). To make that edible, I nuked the heck out of it and thought I would shoot him an e-mail: 'please take the chicken out of the fridge, I have to recook it'.

Didn't. Tired, lazy, sleep deprived, whatever the reason, I didn't do it. Or on Wednesday, or Thursday. Just carefully nuked the next piece of chicken each day - probably more than needed, but safe / sorry, etc.

Finally, yesterday morning, I got off my lazy drowsy sleep deprived backside and nuked the four pieces that are left for three minutes. Then I promptly forgot the casserole dish in the microwave.

I had thought I'd let the heat work all the way through while I set up the coffee for hubby, and then move it to the fridge. Didn't. I forgot about it, ran around, left for work and it sat there until hubby came downstairs an hour later. He discovered it and nuked it for another three minutes. Then he sent me an e-mail about it.

Well, one thing's for sure, that chicken's dead. And somebody's responsible.

And that, my friends, is an almost blatant plagiarism from Plan 9 from Outer Space by Ed Wood, Jr. - one of the stupidest and unintentionally funniest movies ever made.

If you want to see the original (and I highly recommend you do) - I promise your jaw will drop in disbelief if you pay close attention, listen to and think about what's said in these clips from the movie. It's five minutes long so grab a favorite beverage, your bestest buddy, and spend a few minutes. You (probably) won't be disappointed. Just be prepared for mind-bendingly stupid...

My friends....

Oh! And one other bit of trivia about that opener: Criswell did exist - he's not a made up dude from an over-fevered imagination. He was real and even wrote a book called 'Criswell Predicts' (long story for another time).

Have a lovely weekend!

Best~
Philippa

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I'm Sorry, But It's My Opinion

I know. I'm entitled to have an opinion so I shouldn't apologize, but I know this is going to be unpopular, so I offer the apology before I get started.

It is sincere, by the way, since I really don't want to cause heartburn for anyone.

With that said, I sometimes wonder why men ever gave women standing in anything. Honest. I really do think that sometimes.

We can be so bloody pretentious, so petty and flagrantly childish it makes me want to bring out the paddle and set to. Kind of like the nun in the Blues Brothers. Whack... Whack... Whack-whack... Whack-whack-whack... Whack-whack-whack-whack-whackwhackwhackwhackwhackwhackwhack...

What got me going on this today is that on one of the the sites to which I belong there is a huge knicker-knotting going on.

It's all because one member - a man - started a thread that is set in the 1870's.

It's a role playing game where those who choose to participate are supposed to "dress up" and get in character. Anyone can post. There are no restrictions on who can post or on what is posted - it's supposed to be fun and creative and humorous.

Unfortunately, some of the women (children) took exception to the fact that this 1870's setting calls out 'men's only' in the opening post.

In this day and age, it is offensive, I agree. But, back then, it was the norm - it was accepted by the majority of society and no one noticed.

Now - if this was a role playing game set in present day and that OP was there, I wouldn't like it. It would bother me, but I would shrug and go my own way. I don't get excited about stuff like that because with everything else going on in my life and the world at large, it isn't worth getting upset about things like this. It is one thread in one forum on one small internet website.

It is not starving children in Africa, or people dying of thirst for want of clean water, or the Syrian refugee crisis or the approval of the Iran nuke deal or...

It is a miniscule issue - a bacteria on a pimple on a gnat's ass - yet they seem to be determined to bring it down.

When I pointed that out to one of the militants - politely and in a private message - she said we would just have to agree to disagree. Fine. I disagree with the idea that she has the right to impose her will and her principals on the rest of us, whether we agree or not.

If this was a case where the OP was anything but tongue-in-cheek, I would be offended and I would stand right by her side and agitate to have it removed, too. If, for instance, it declared that women are not allowed to post, or people of any particular race or sexual preference can't post. It would be dead wrong and she and the other few women who are up in arms over this (out of a site of 96 members) would be right. However, it's not. And that's where this bothers me.

We all get riled up about things. Some are big, some are not, some important, some petty, but there comes a time when a thinking adult will step back and objectively ask, 'how important is this, really?'

If it's not important, if it isn't going to cause gross unfairness or societal disruption, is it really worth spoiling the pleasure for others? It's not as if this particular OP states that women aren't allowed to post. It just encourages (strongly) that people post in the role of an 1870's Victorian male.

After thinking about it, I posted in the guise of a man (Colonel Mustapha Muchleigh) arriving on the doorstep of this particular Gentlemen's Club after having it recommended to me by 'ol' Baldy'. Right after that, one of the militant dames posted a picture of a suffragette's march. Now that I don't like. Didn't then, don't now because it's disrespectful and rude - in my opinion.

So, given the umbrage taken over a silly thread in a single forum on a single website, I guess all of us are going to end up with multi-stall restrooms where men, women and children all do their 'thing' without regard to privacy. Because that's how it should be according to a few.

Now, let's all lighten up, shall we? Have a lovely, confrontation-free day.

Best~
Philippa

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I Hereby Declare Myself...No. 5

I had a thought yesterday. More than one, actually, but this one stood out because I had it while walking from office to office and I decided to use it for my post this morning.

Then I tried to decide how to frame it. I picked a word. Then, wanting to be sure of that word's appropriateness for this - would it need nuance? - I looked it up. It's another word to love and I have decided I am number 5 on that Word's list:

From http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/earthy

Earthy

adjective, earthier, earthiest.

1. of the nature of or consisting of earth or soil.

2. characteristic of earth : an earthy smell.

3. realistic; practical.

4. coarse or unrefined: an earthy sense of humor.

5. direct; robust; unaffected:an earthy, generous woman.

6. (of a mineral) having a dull luster and rough to the touch.

7. Archaic. worldly; pertaining to the earth. 

 

I like that: direct, robust and unaffected. Yep, yep and yep, 100% on all counts.

 

Okay, now for the reason of picking that word. It's because I'm going to tread into the meadow. The one occupied for weeks by cows or sheep or goats, take your pick because as a Number 5 I am going for Number 4 this morning - coarse and unrefined (no 'or' available, sorry). I promise, though, to keep it short - get to the point and beyond quickly.

 

Yesterday's post, what led to it, the middle and the end, made me think: 'It'll pass.' And it did. Then I thought of my recent incident with flax. It passed, too. So I thought, 'Hm. It's a bit like constipation. Wait long enough and it'll pass.'

 

And it did. Painful, uncomfortable for a while there, but things worked out and all is well with the world. For the time being.

 

So, a quick recap and then I'll get back to giving the tour of the meadow.

 

What started all of this is that my words became paragraphs. I set them free into the world.

 

Those paragraphs caused a riot which led to someone else releasing their paragraphs, which beat up my paragraphs. My paragraphs were left bloody and bowed so they called in reinforcements.

 

A war was waged and... peace broke out. Terms were reached, hands were shaken (metaphorically. Really, it was an 'I'm sorry' / 'I understand' exchange.) The Respect-o-meter swung wildly for a time but then settled back in the green - near the upper end, I hope.

 

All that it took was time, and words, and more words and a willingness to stand up and say 'hey! wait a minute!', a meeting of the minds, discussion and a better understanding on both sides.

 

More than anything, though, it was the clock winding down the seconds, the passing.

 

They (who, according to Gary Larson in his 'Far Side' cartoon strip, are two guys who work out of a basement someplace), say that 'this too shall pass' and 'all good things come to those who wait' and all sorts of other stuff. And they're right.

 

If you're patient, if you wait, choose not to react and respond and create a dust storm, things pass. Sometimes, as in my situation the other day, a prod or two to wave the dust storm aside helps clear the air. That waving around set this particular situation straight. It helped the matter pass more quickly with less pain that not waving. Even if I had waited, though, it would have passed, eventually.

 

It's one of those things I've learned over the years. The fullness of time is remarkable because:

 

1) if you wait for the blockage to pass, it will; maybe soon, maybe late, but it will;

 

2) if you are patient and calm, what you think you need to know will be revealed, eventually, and you don't have to look like your pushy or nosy by asking or poking; and,

 

3) oftentimes what you think you had to know, over time, becomes meaningless, so you really didn't need to know in the first place.

 

I've lived through Number 1 often enough to know that it's true.

 

Number 2 is a work in progress. Sometimes something is said and I'm curious, and I want to know now. It used to be that I'd poke around the edges, or shove my way in and ask directly, as if it's my business. Now I almost always wait. Usually I'm rewarded with the information that I thought I had to have right now five or six or ten or thirty days ago. I survived. I didn't look like a busybody. All's well. Or, Number 2 morphs into Number 3 and it's moot.

 

So whatever is facing you today, whatever irritations or challenges or pain or frustration, take a deep breath. Hold it. Let it out slowly and repeat, if needed. Let time and the situation pass. After all, it's only constipation, right?

 

Have a lovely day!

 

Best~

Philippa

 

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Whinge, Whine and Other Lovely Words.

When I started writing a few years ago I soon realized how limited my everyday vocabulary had become.

It’s not that I didn’t have the mental thesaurus available. It’s just that I never used it. It was weighted down with dust and inertia – it wasn’t going anywhere because I hadn’t driven it in so long.

Then I started writing. Suddenly I had to find extra words for things – you know, synonyms. Those different words that mean the same or almost the same thing, all so I wouldn’t end up repeating myself all over the place.

Within a matter of months, my vocabulary flourished again and my writing outgrew it. I needed more words (yeah, I’m a greedy slob, but that’s a different subject). So I started looking and do you know what I discovered?

Americans are bereft. We are pathetic in our language (borrowed, I grant you, and then abused).

For instance, when someone complains here we say they’re ‘whining’. That rhymes with wining as in dining and it doesn’t have the same punch as the Brit alternative.

Now, when a Brit or other non-American who uses the proper British pronunciation for stuff, s/he says ‘whinging’ (soft ‘g’ in the middle – win-ge-ing). With whinging, you can picture the snot-faced kid with the tear stained soulful stare and catch in their throat as they tug on their parent's garment – Mommee!

Gobsmacked is another one. What do you picture if I say, ‘I was gobsmacked!’? It's perfect! I picture smacking myself on the cheek, or over my mouth - gobsmacked.

See? You see? It’s beautiful – evocative – and we don’t have it here. We could, but we don’t because it’s Brit. So what do we have in its place? Shocked? No. Stunned? Borr-ing. Surprised? Oh, come on – that’s positively limp.

Foppotee yet another great word. I don’t know that most Brits even know about that one – but it really is a great word. Really great because it’s so far out of common use that if you say it about someone, no one will know what you’re saying (check it out – look it up). It has made it into the Urban Dictionary, but when was the last time you heard it used?

There are others, too. Beautiful words, lovely words that convey meaning and layers of meaning – veritable depths of meaning – and they rarely get used.

Plethora. A word that fills your gob and rolls right off your tongue.

Loo. Quick, succinct, not untasteful – ‘Pardon me, I must run to the loo.’ It just sounds so… so poncy!

Poncy. Great, great, great word! Posh, over the top, snobby even.

Sorry. Oh, the Brit understatement in that little word! It was bandied about on Authonomy a while back, offered up as the most useful word in English English. It can mean anything from an apology to a slur against one’s mother all dependent upon the arranging of the stresses.

SORree – apology

sor-ree – sneer

sor-REE – your mother wears army boots

See? You see what I mean? And there are so many others!

Scintillating and query (another Brit word not used here except if you're a computer geek talking about asking for something from a database).

We do have to careful, though, because we commonly say things that make the British eyebrows go up. Yeah, it's good exercise for an eyebrow, but it's almost always unintended.

Pissed here means angry. Yeah, I know that we all know that, but did you know that in other English speaking countries it usually means drunk?

How about that polite 'excuse me'? Nope - don't say it! Don't! It's the 'pardon me' for unfortunate bodily noises. You say that in a crowded restaurant and you might get a table to yourself, but it will be accompanied by many an aghast stare.

Did you see that? I slipped another great word in there - aghast. Agape. Awestruck (the original meaning, not the watered down modernized weak-as-water variety).

Fanny pack. Uh. No. Don't. Don't go there.

Fanny in England doesn't mean bottom or bum (although it is a diminutive <== [another one!] of Frances and variants [<==boom!]). It means, like... well, turn the woman around 180d (on the horizontal plane, please) and there, her... um... northerly nethers, at the top of her legs, between them.

So if you say fanny pack to a Brit, you're being very impolite. S/He might take offense and you'll be gobsmacked (in a not-a-good way) in next to no time.

Now - grab a thesaurus or hang out with your erudite friends, strike up a conversation and see what fantastic words you come up with today!

Best~
Philippa

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