Pressie!!!

Or to be honest, not really a present, but it feels like one, so there. What actually is happening is that a friend of mine and I exchanged "work" - She had a quilt top she just couldn't seem to get "into" putting together, and I have this problem with small-scale crochet - but coveted this tablecloth for years.

Mind you, I love antimacassars and doilies and table-runners, but I simply cannot maintain an even thread-tension when using tiny hooks and crochet thread. (I do fine with bulky wool and anything over an "E" size hook)

So we swapped. She mailed me all the ickle bitty pieces of the quilt and directions on how to assemble, and I mailed her the instructions on how to make the tablecloth and a bit of money to buy the thread with. I finished the top and sent it back to her - and today she is going to mail me THIS!!:



Swoon, covet and admire to your heart's content - just do not DROOL on my beautiful new tablecloth!!

Tropical Depression Nears Storm Strength

Ok, well, that was the headline on a Yahoo news item.

Kind of hit me though... sounds like me. Suburban Chicago Depression nears "Storm" strength. And then... Chicago Storm Sewmouse reaching Hurricane force...

Yes, it definately sounds like me.

Maybe that's why I enjoyed standing outside in the wind and rain while Jeanne drove over Florida 2 yrs ago?

They demoted Pluto

Apparently some Astronomers in Prague, Czech Republic have unilaterally decided that Pluto is no longer a planet.

I've always thought that a planet named after a Disney cartoon dog was a bit stupid, but I've accepted it and it really hasn't affected my life to any great extent, one way or the other.

This, however, this GHASTLY decision by a bunch of ALMOST-POLLACKS leaves the next-to final planet in our Solar System - the penultimate planet - the planet at the REAR END of the system... as... Uranus (as opposed to the TAIL end - Neptune).

Oh for the love of mike.

Another day, another number.

Ok, so this makes no sense.

Yesterday night, I took the stupid test, and the number was 125. The ONLY thing that I had to eat was the tilapia fillets. 100% protein, no carbs. Just water to drink. So why the flying fardleschnocker was the number 135 this morning? I'm NOT HAPPY® about this!

I need to buy a kitchen timer for at work. Perhaps today at lunch when I go get another "mega-salad". I want to walk for 15 minutes 3x per week. This is not a lot, and I'm fair certain I could manage it. Even if it's more like hobbling for the first while until I get stronger. So why the kitchen timer? Simple! I set the timer for 7.5 minutes. Walk as far away as I can during that time, then walk back when the timer goes off. Voila! 15 minute walk. If I can convince myself to do this at lunchtime at work, it keeps my evenings free for cleaning, gaming and couch-potatoing.

Headaches, and insomnia, though. I think the headaches may be related to the lower blood-sugar. They FEEL like the ones I get when I forget to eat (or get caught in the middle of something and CAN"T eat.)

Called Dad last nite and told him about both the Diabetes and the tilapia. Spent a good hour trading recipies and test numbers. *grin* I think the trip will be in October. He's already making plans for what all we will do and eat when I get there. Amazingly, the man finds it in him to tell me he loves me now. Still chokes me up every time that he says it. I work to remember to tell him that I love him right before I hang up every time. If for some reason it's the last words he ever hears from me - so help me, they will be that I love him.

I talked to him a tiny bit about how angry I was at St. Paul the Lutheran Minister for telling me to stop stroking Mom's arm near the end. Dad wasn't happy that Paul had said that to me (he didn't hear it at the time). I wish so much that I hadn't listened to that pompous little git. It's hard to reconcile all the mistakes I made with my memories and feelings about Mom. The more that I think about all this, the angrier and more hateful I feel toward that self-righteous prick.

I don't have a brother. There is just some interfering busybody self-righteous religious prick with no brains who insists on kibbitzing between me and my FAMILY.

I wish he would die in a fire.

Improvement

So... The cheesecake is gone (Capt. Jack Sparrow: "But...Why is the Cheesecake gone?!!") and this morning after having a salad thing for lunch and a salami sandwich for dinner - 128.

That's 20 numbers lower than the first time I took it on Sunday. So I guess that is improvement. I don't want to eat Salad all the time however. It's ok once in a while, but Wabbit food is for Wabbits, Doc.

So I'm only 18 to 28 numbers from "normal".

The salami sandwich on oat-bran bread was tasty. I can do that. Will probably be ALL wrong for the cardio issues, but.. *shrug* I can only do so much at one time.

Tonite I shall have Tilapia fish. Dad showed me how to cook it. I hope it turns out even 1/2 as good as his was. Perhaps with cauliflower. (And white wine to keep with the "all white food" theme? Probably water, tho.)

I think I have some sugar-free Jello mix. Maybe that would be a tasty treat...

CLUNK - OWIE.... *sigh*

Ok, still in the process of moving into "acceptance". Without question I have bypassed the "bargaining with God" phase. That asshole NEVER keeps up his side of things.

But the rebellion is fading. In small steps, true, but fading. The chocolate cheesecake is gone, so that's no longer an issue. At lunch today - or maybe on the way home from work, I will get healthier food from the market.

I need to find the ADA diet - my nurse friend says it is a good thing and not "impossible" to follow. (Of course, medical professionals have been telling me for EONS that a 1500 calorie/day diet is not "impossible" to follow, so we shall take that with a tablespoon of ... umm.... CRAP - can't take it with salt (heart), can't take it with sugar (diabetes).... ok - we shall take it with a FUCKING PINT of sarcastic cynicism!!!) If naught else, it should give me some ideas of what is ok and what is not ok.

Insert the pointy thingy - twist off the protective cap - puncture thumb with pointy thingy. Squeeze out red thumb juice. Push button for testing tab. stick testing tab into red thumb juice. Wait for test thingy to give you number. Write down number. Throw away testing tab and pointy thingy. Meh.

So like... I need to call the Dadster and tell him about this. I'm not overwhelmingly looking forward to that. Then I need to figure out how soon I can haul arse down to Florida, stopping in Tennessee and (as demanded by Anonymous G/Friend from GRADE school... *grin*) in Georgia. At least doing it that way, I break up the 1200 mile one-way trip into more manageable chunks. I just wish someone would move Kentucky out of the way. It's bad ENOUGH that I have to drive through freaking INDIANA (the state that spawned Dan Quayle & the Moron Roscoe, and where they worship orange traffic cones).

Maybe October.

Rebellion

I am angry. I am angry and I don't give a shit. Ok, I'll take your fucking pills, and I'll prick my goddamn fingers and smear blood on little tabs of paper - but goddamn it, I'm gonna eat Godiva Double Chocolate Cheesecake too.

Fuck this disease. Fuck this life. Fuck this bullshit. I am who I am - and I don't need some neophyte Dr. trying to tell me what, how or when to eat. Fuck this shit.

Fuck the notion of eating only bland, disgusting fish or oatmeal.

Fuck it.

Fuck life.