A Life Not Quite Perplexed —

It’s all in the eyes.

by Penbleth on Sunday 29 April, 2012

Tonight is another respite night. You know I look forward to them. The time to not have to make 13 our number one priority is freeing. The chance to go out and relax isn’t bad either.

The hunt for new food experiences took us to a Lebanese restaurant. 17 wanted to know what THAT would be like. I promised her hummus and felafels. She asked for bland. I kid you not, no spices, no flavourings, nothing too much of anything and no chick peas. So we were off to a good start.

I must admit, the food was delicious. Would definitely eat again. Then again, I went in hopeful, Middle Eastern food is one of my favourites.

Below is the totally Middle Eastern Long Island Iced Tea. Brought to me complete with crucified cherry and parasol. 17 asked, “how are you going to get the cherry, there are two things through it?”

I replied, “the day I can’t take a cherry I might just as well give up.”

Then I remembered to whom I was speaking.

I think I might be the mother other people’s mothers warned them about.

Perhaps it was the LICT, perhaps it was the glass of Lebanese red I had before that. Yes, you read that correctly, LEBANESE red. What does it taste like? Umm, let me think, oh, I know, Ribena™. Without the oomph.

In the middle of all this, the chatting, the laughing, the pretending to me normal. The being a sad sod who photographs their food and drink before they consume it because we all know nothing is truly experienced till it is shared on the Internet, everything goes blurred.

No, no, I’m not sloshed. I think they kept the alcohol to an almost non-existent level in their drinks. I have none of the lovely woozy feeling and ALL of the “oh shit, my eyesight has just jumped to worse AGAIN.”

I thought this was supposed to improve. I should have titled this whole shot to blurred so you could see. Glasses or no glasses, everything is soft, like vaseline rubbed on a lens for a cheap soft focus. Except not, so it can’t be rubbed clean so the lens can view again as clearly as ever.

Other than that, a fabulous night. I had fun, which can’t be bad.

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All of the words but not necessarily in the right order.

by Penbleth on Thursday 19 April, 2012

That was yesterday. Yesterday was definitely a, if it can go wrong it will, sort of day. Which sucked.

First 13 woke REALLY early and taunted me.

Then we turned up for an appointment with the neurologist to find out we should have been there the day before.

As we marched back along the corridors to the great outdoors, 13 in full whine, Hub looking as stressed as I felt I got to wondering, who was upsetting whom? Where did the tension originate?

Did 13 start it because she didn’t like coming to see the Dr.? After all, we probably could still have been seen, the receptionist couldn’t have been nicer despite my mistake. She encouraged us several times to wait. Yet the whining began almost straight away.

Did it come from me? Feeling badly about getting the date wrong, having Hub take an afternoon off work just to find out it was for the wrong day. After all, an appointment isn’t like just booking leave, we need these half days because there are bound to be many others during the year. There always are.

Did it come from Hub, thinking about all the things he could have been doing instead? Was he thinking I am getting worse at being organised instead of getting better? He wouldn’t be wrong. There’s not much point putting a date in your calendar if you put in the WRONG one.

It reminded me of those early years with unsettled babies, having some helpful soul point out that Mum isn’t helping settle the crying baby because she isn’t relaxed. No, really? How relaxed would you be trying your hardest to placate someone who can’t tell you other than through crying that they are upset. Then the ignominy of the partner, or even a visitor, coming along, picking up the child and them beginning to beam. Well, yes, you are relaxed because you haven’t been doing it all day.

Then you try the, fake it till you make it. Or, fake it till the kid buys it. Pretend to be relaxed, pretend to be at ease, pretend to be asleep (see the first link above).

Pretend.

But the years pass and the experience is there and you bring that with you.

Sometimes it is good. Second babies aren’t as hard. Sometimes. Fourth should be a doddle. Till they’re not.

This too will pass.

This too will repeat and you will anticipate and perhaps cause?

As Scarlett didn’t say, “today is a another day.”

In the absence of a multi-petticoated gown I shall drink tea.

Admire what is left of the tulips.

And try to get at least some of today’s words in the right order.

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All self-stropped and nowhere to pout.

by Penbleth on Tuesday 17 April, 2012

No, I’m not entirely sure what that means myself either.

Today was jump on the scales and let the people who run the diet know what you weigh day. Always a joy. I approach the scales like the condemned on their way to be hanged. Or the failing stand-up facing the braying crowd, with EXTREME trepidation. Most weeks it moves do at a sprightly rate. Today – not so much. Of course the only answer to this is to have a strop and do a bit of pouting.

What IS the point of denying myself things if the scale is just going to edge slowly downward?

To this end I ate my FULL allotment of food today AND a slice of 19′s pizza.

I tell myself it doesn’t count because there is a whole week in which to shift it because we ALL know THAT’S how it works. Yes, I am rolling my eyes at myself.

Tomorrow back to the straight and narrow. Those pounds wouldn’t just lose themselves, you know. Sadly.

Perhaps it is time to shake things up a little and try some different foods, under that old guise of a change will fool my body into action.

Whatever.

If only the old, broken biscuits have don’t make you gain weight because all the calories have fallen out, was actually true.

Oh – if you are at all inclined to write to me about how some miracle whatsit can make all my weight issue vanish in a trice, save it. I’ve got this covered, thanks. (Aimed at the bots, who can’t read, well done there Pen, and the trawlers of tags who might think they have an easy mark in me. No.)

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If you are going to share is it worth being embarrassed?

by Penbleth on Monday 16 April, 2012

(MILES better than Larsson.)

I know the “right” answer should be NO. If you enjoy it why should you be embarrassed.

Except …

We can be a judgmental bunch, can’t we, humans. Some things are seen as a little more acceptable than others. Mostly things that AREN’T liked or enjoyed by too many people.

Everyone likes it? It must be rubbish. Enjoyed by only a few? Clearly only the cognoscenti, those positively riddled with taste would even KNOW about it never mind have the intelligence to enjoy.

Are you a keen fan of reality television? Please, spare me, so NOT my thing darling.

Oh, don’t you DARE look down your nose at the fact I read crime. No, stop it. I won’t have it at all.

I read mostly, okay, almost entirely, crime.

What I’m trying to say is, I seem to be feeling a little better lately, a little more able to read and take in the sorts of books I used to read so I’m back to posting those books on Goodreads. I have decided to take up the reading challenge again this year, but only 50 books this time as it is already well in to April and goodness only knows what should happen if I have a relapse. I hate starting these things and not being able to finish them. Especially if they are book related.

I’ve read about as much literary fiction as I can handle.

Just ask yourself this, if I’ve been sick since the tail end of last year and unable to read crime but I HAVE still been reading, WHAT THE …?

Say no more.

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How odd.

by Penbleth on Sunday 8 April, 2012

First, today hasn’t been awful like yesterday. Thank goodness. Thank goodness this is often the case, although not always. We can’t go back and alter time so we must go forward and learn from what we have done. That’s about as much as any of us can do.

That said, on to today’s weirdness.

I have the strangest craving – for a cheeseburger.

I know lots of people eat them with great frequency and think there’s nothing weird about wanting one. I don’t.

However, in the middle of diets or even just being careful about what I eat I get an overwhelming craving for a cheeseburger. It becomes the pinnacle of food for me. The sole object of longing. Longing and anticipatory heartburn.

I’m not going to have one.

But I want one.

I can almost taste it. Except the imaged on always tastes fantastic. Rich and succulent and fulsome. The real thing is ALWAYS lacking, no matter where it is sourced. Always.

And the calories!

Dear goodness. All those calories for practically no satiety. If I wanted to eat a load of calories and not feel full I’d eat chocolate. You know where you are with chocolate. It’s a heck of a lot better for you than a cheeseburger.

Yes, it is.

Because I said so.

Some beautiful 90% cocoa chocolate. Now that IS rich and full. AND I can only eat a little till the migraine comes along and starts playing the bongos in my brain so really it IS good for me. I can’t eat enough of it to be a problem. Just enough to think I’ve tasted Heaven and it is dark and slightly bitter – like my heart.

My yearnings have got me to almost 10.30 p.m. without eating anything since lunch so I am declaring them annoying but harmless and going to ignore them.

No cheeseburger for me. I am not a kitty cat. No chocolate either. The Easter bunny didn’t bring any for me. Apparently his agents took a unilateral decision I wouldn’t want any. I might have the huff with the Easter bunny.

This has been your food craving ramble for the delusional mind of a Sunday night dieter.

It really HAD better help my eye problem.

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