Diet

Nobody seems more obsessed by diet than out antimaterialistic, otherworldly, New Age spiritual types. But if the material world is merely an illusion, an honest guru would be as content with a Budweiser and bratwurst as with raw carrot juice, tofu, and seaweed slime - Edward Abbey

I’m not sure I would wholly agree with Edward Abbey – I suppose it all depends to what extent a person believes that we really do invent our own reality. I personally live in a somewhat shared reality – the one where if I run you over with the Isuzu Rodeo, not only do you get hurt, you likely sue and I have to pay court ordered restitutions, etc. That same reality (or illusion - the fabric of which I think we share), involves a shared understanding various micronutrient and nutritional requirements. I’m not saying bratwurst bad, seaweed slime good - but what I am saying is that the constituents of what we eat is worthy of note, but likely not as important as some diet junkies would contend. It’s a balanced and sane blend of things – not a ridged fascism around what we eat that matters.

Gosh, how ever will I lose this weight, I think to myself innocently. Diets just don’t work for me and generally I eat right and well, I tell you as I recount my daily twelve mile bike rides and five mile hikes with the Honey Bee. And I’ve even added on 100 sit ups, I lament, as I reach for another slab of Scharfen Berger chocolate and load up a plate of left over baked ziti for lunch.

Rural Life

Yes, the meaning of life, the universe and everything came and went and I still haven’t divined the perfect party. But in the meantime I met a small cadre of friends for Mediterranean food (the restaurant was admittedly too loud, and I wouldn’t go back again for a soiree of that nature) and a terrifically valiant attempt at bowling (we were only able to bowl a single game before being casually kicked out of our lane in favor of a league of some sort.) It was fun while it lasted, even though it went by too quickly. My favorite people. Much laughter and happiness. I love my friends. They’re so fabulous each in their own right. Each mightn’t always appreciate the better qualities of the others – that’s not so much a prerequisite in my universe – but I, I see what’s marvelous in each of them and lucky for me, when gathered under a single roof, they remarkably get along just ducky for an evening now and again. Me. I’m blessed.

Beforehand, Ed and I took Secret Agent Dog to the beach for the day. He took the day off on Friday after a much heated argument on Thursday where he contended this wouldn’t be possible after all (after planning and agreeing to it several weeks earlier.) Oh, I think not. So we had a great time at the beach – Ms. Honey Bee ran to the point of exhaustion and slept like a rock. It’s great to see her genuinely tired, not just bored-tired. (With my feet in the state they’ve been this year there just hasn’t been even half the exhausted days that either of us require in order to be truly happy.)

I’d hoped to spend a day lazing in my garden, poking and pruning and the whatnot, but yesterday I felt a bit under the weather and largely just lounged like I rarely do. Sedentary isn’t my favorite position, but yesterday it suited me fine. I think I’m better for it today, but the garden isn’t.

One of the workmen, after a long hiatus, arrived today to continue efforts on the closet for the hot water heater. He’s off gathering supplies. One of Ed’s former co-workers from Petaluma (we went to a party at his house last weekend – much fun was had by all. Mountains of children and Secret Agent Dog with a ball. Singapore Slings. Need I say more?) arrived at the house this morning with his two year old daughter. The lot of them, with Secret, headed to the park so I’m alone in the house with the whir of the appliances – washing machine, dishwasher – hummmmm, buzzzzzzz.

The mother of my favorite twins on the planet rang this morning to announce the arrival of the latest addition to their fabulous family, Buster the brown-haired poodle puppy. She was seeking input on veterinarians and we did a bit of dog-mom chat – including the obligatory complaining about the farmer’s market ruining the lawns in the local town park.

We’re heading to the Peninsula in not too long, to have an early dinner at Ed’s mom’s house – hopefully George will have driven to the coast this morning and picked up shrimp and we’ll be having this amazing barbeque shrimp/scampi thing he does. I start to salivate just thinking about it. I hope, I hope, I hope.

Alright, so this entry ain’t so titillating. I’ll conjure some juicier bits later.

Go Ahead, Make A Plan

I missed the first annual town picnic on Sunday for an afternoon flight arriving in DC at about midnight. The hotel didn’t have a kitchen/room service so I set out for food. Everything was closed. I settled for a bag of popcorn from a nearby CVS and a few bottles of water. I woke up at about 10 am, packed up my shit and headed out to the nearest coffee shop for a latte. Spent way too much time battling security to get onto the campus and missed the opportunity to get to the cafeteria before the meeting began at 1 pm, ended at 5 pm and the taxi met me at the entrance to the building at 5:15, which was perfect – it dropped me at the airport a few minutes after 6 and I was through security and to the gate before 6:30, which was awesome because all I’d had to eat for two days was a bag of popcorn and the airport is filled with such fine culinary fare. Next thing I know I’m calling Ed from my cell phone, on the airport shuttle, as we’re crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, begging him to meet me in Larkspur with a chicken sandwich and a sweater. Eureka!

I arrive home to snuzzle with the dog on the sofa a shy bit after midnight on Monday and ready myself for a 7 am on Tuesday – some five or six hours away from it I drift off and wake up drooling on one of the sofa pillows but/and there’s no coffee in the house. I rouse Ed outta bed to fetch me coffee as I dial in. I not only have to be on the call, which is difficult enough, but I also have to chair the call. Coffee come my way, please come my way.

On the one hand it’s busy, there’s a gazillion deadlines I’ve fallen behind on, at any given moment there are at least three urgent things I should have attended to by COB yesterday and part of that is due to the fact that I reduced my schedule but there’s never been an adequate acknowledgment of how that needed to correspond with a decrease in certain kinds of responsibilities. So things fall through the cracks because there are cracks (gaping canyons even.) But part of it really is due to the fact that I have days that are not perfectly efficient.

Yesterday was a great example. I was just exhausted and I slept through another 7 a.m. call and while I had outlined a day to accomplish some of these gazillion tasks, I maybe only got to three or four of them. It wasn’t for lack of trying, per se, but yeah, maybe it was for lack of trying… Maybe that is the difference between now and what I was willing to do then.

The good news is that I got a call from a consultant who sometimes has my back and she’s been garnering support for a severance package for me. At least yesterday it looked promising – that maybe as early as the first of the year I could roll on that transition. Well, it’s not really a transition, is it? That’s just as it says, a severance, cutting it off, get a tourniquet and stop the bleed, etc. I remind myself not to jump on this roller coaster ride of getting my hopes up. Other pieces have to fall into place, there are other factors to account for.

What will I do with myself if or when I wake up and there’s nothing to do but battle through the thoughts of the day, be alone with myself and my ambition, fears, strengths and thoughts? Partly it’s easy to keep the madness up as a way to hold other kinds of madness at bay. Without the excuses of work, how ever will I busy myself in order to flee my destinies? Ah.. something new to figure out (or maybe something old.)

But all that distraction is a ways off yet. Today I have today – a murder of crows savaging the walnut tree in the adjacent yard – dive bombing my roof with their potential fodder, trying to crack something open (the walnut, you know, or my sanity.) When there’s not an onslaught of thumping walnuts above (the sky is falling?) they are screeching into the crisp pale blue cloudless sky of a later summer morning. Secret is curled up in a sunbeam on her blanket - a festive pink ball perches beside her, pregnant with potential. She’s grown immune to the ruckus too.

I have a feeling that things will not go either how I expect, hope or plan (God laughs?)

Dolphinese

It is of interest to note that while some dolphins are reported to have learned English – up to fifty words used in correct context – no human being has reported to have learned dolpinese. - Carl Sagan

When I tell the above to Ed, he contends I’m entirely wrong about that (or rather, that Carl Sagan is.) He proceeds to cackle out a strange staccato sound and proclaims that it means I want a ball in Dolphinese. Promptly, upon hearing the odd cackle, Secret Agent Dog’s ear perk and she jumps to the quick, runs out the front door, and returns moments later with a Hi-Bounce Pinky ball in her mouth. This proves, we think, that Secret understands Dolphinese and that Ed’s Dolphinese diction is spot on.