Today I’ve been dreaming about food. Well dreaming is probably the wrong word, lusting is probably more accurate. I have been lusting after food today. No don’t misunderstand dear friends, I love good food and I love sharing it with people I enjoy so it’s not unusual for me to think about food. I’ve been known to plan whole menus as a means of pleasantly passing time and I’ve no shame in this either.
However today I’ve been running on the see food, think food, desire food sort of cycle. I blame my medications partially for this shift in my food relationship. I also blame people sharing delicious ideas and placed with me all in a very short period of time. This sharing lead me to feel like I need to try it all, right now. Not that I’m complaining about people sharing these things with me; whether we break bread together or separately but shared experiences I think is a wonderful thing indeed.
The thing is, though, between my medication, my lupus flare and the insane hamster on the wheel that is my brain, I fee exhausted just trying to figure out what to do and try and when. And of course this makes my health teeter totter a bit more. Again I am not complaining for I am blessed, truly blessed to have wonderful people to share food with and more importantly to not having to worry about where the next meal comes from. I just need to tame the lusting of said food into something more manageable so food isn’t falling off my plate!
When I was younger, I used to feed animals bits of crackers and such. If you were a duck or a goose, chances are I would throw the cracker your way. If you were a squirrel or a chipmunk I would place the bit of cracker somewhere near me for you to come and nibble on. I might also have nuts or seed grass pieces to hold out to you if you were cute and fuzzy.
My all time favorite to feed was chipmunks, you see I loved how they would pack all the offered food into their cheeks which would get chubbier and chubbier. I guess back then I adored chubby cheeks, and to a degree I still do, just not on me. And unfortunately as part of my lupus treatment I take a steroid called prednisone which just happens to give me chubby cheeks. Well actually what it does besides giving me chubby cheeks is an incredible appetite, which results in the desire to eat all the time. Eating all the time can lead to more than chubby cheeks. And chubby cheeks on me are not cute, not like they are on chipmunks. Thankfully I do not stay on prednisone all the time!
I’m always torn this time of year; I love all the colours and smells as nature uncurls her beauty, but I dread certain things. Mostly what I dread are the stinging flying insects as well as the bloodsuckers that seem impossible to avoid. And this time of year I must deal those suddenly alive and very hungry mosquito mommies as well as what seems like a lab sheet of required blood work that’s several miles long.
I can at least protect myself from the insects that seek my blood, unfortunately for health reasons I cannot avoid the lovely folks who let my blood for various lab tests. It’s part of the deal I made when I started treatment for my lupus.
Well to be completely fair and honest, had I know how much blood I’d be donating for lab tests and such I may have hesitated a little more about my treatment. I’m not a fan of needless and yet lupus have meant more needles than I had ever thought possible.
I have needles for blood draws, needles for treatment, needles for tests and on and on he list goes. I call myself a human pincushion at times. And yes I do call my Phlebotomists vampires. Hey you have to find fun where you can at times because laughter helps.
Now I just wish the mosquitoes would get the message that I’ve already donated my annual supply of blood.
When I was growing up we had a neighbor who spent every moment she could in the warm sunshine with as much skin exposed to the sun as possible. The minute it was warm enough she’d be sunbathing top-less for hours on end until she reached a golden color I related to well cooked French fries! 😊
I myself did not sunbathe as per say, but I also wasn’t afraid of the sun. I would acquire a decent tan from playing outside regardless of how many layers of sunscreen my mother slathered on me. I’m pretty sure I simply out-wore the sunscreen during that time, nothing deliberate and no thought of getting a tan.
After getting diagnosed with lupus and being placed on a variety of medication which made me sensitive to the sun I tend to avoid bright sunlight as if it were the plague. This means that I am starting to match Beloved glowing white color. No, actually what it means is that I never go anywhere without wearing sunscreen and having the stuff with me at all times. It also means wearing sun protective clothing with long sleeves and legs. And yes a rather large hat.
I didn’t start my lupus journey with such avoidance skills. As a matter of fact I flaunted my exposure to the sun, because what could really happen? In case you are wondering what could really happen is that my hands and feet were swollen to twice their normal size. My skin was sensitive, itchy and a blotchy reddish-purple color. And yes friends, this had to happen more than once before I clued in that the sun and I have a different relationship.
Now id like to say that since those days I’ve never had a run in with the sun again, but there have been the odd times when it starts off overcast and somehow while I out walking or whatever the sun plays peek-a-boo and I get caught not exactly prepared. Thankfully those times are very rare. Also thankfully I don’t run and hide from the sun either. We just have a different relationship now as I said before, and I still enjoy it in different ways.
There is nothing like the tang of salt in the air from the ocean. On windy days like today, the sea air is brought to us without having to hit the beach. And on windy days like today, the sea birds don’t seem to be as talkative, perhaps it takes more concentration to just stay in flight during these days. Since I don’t fly, at least not like the birds do, I’m not really sure if it’s harder to talk and fly in the wind or not.
The four-footed one doesn’t like the strong winds that kicked up today, although she seemed intrigued to smell the salty air without going to the beach. It mingled with the scent of the juniper and cedar not to mention the flowers popping up everywhere. She rolled around in the grass, her wee nose twitching so quickly I thought it would fall off. Then she would suddenly pop up and go running around the garden again to follow a new smell, until she was distracted once more.
The sea air even fills the house on days like today when you open the windows. It’s as if you are living on the beach without the sand getting everywhere! Days like today remind me how special it is to live so close to the water without being right on it. It is the of everything because I can enjoy the salt air when it comes without taking it for granted because it’s always there.
Toes. Those little digits on the ends of your feet. Small little things that have a habit of getting in the way or striking objects. Toes are marvellous things when they are wiggling in the warm sand of a beach. Toes are wonderful for squishing in mud or letting thick carpet fluff up between them.
Of course we use our toes for walking and balance, but that’s only when you look at them from a practical vantage point. For some people another practical aspect of toes just happens to be this neat ability to pick items with them. Kind of like our cousins the monkeys. And yes some folks can use their toes for climbing trees or rocks.
I don’t normally consider my toes, unless I’ve smacked them into a table leg or put a chair leg on top of one of my toes. But these days I’m thinking a bit more about my toes because of the four-footed one. You see she has taken to going for longer walks, specifically in the hillside areas. My toes are paying the price for her love of adventures during the day. The price is increased pain, probably from all the times I cracked or broke them in the past. My toes are not made for hill walking it seems.
At first I thought my toes hurt because of my shoes. I thought my feet were sliding around and banging into the ends of my shoes, but that doesn’t appear to be the case. As best the professionals can tell I’m just continuing to make smaller jig saw puzzle pieces with my bones, specifically my toe bones.
The four-footed one is a bit like a tank in that no terrain is safe from her paws. Grass? She uses it as a pillow. Dirt? Bring in on. Mud? She is an expert in the stuff. Rocks? If there small she will walk in them, larger ones are meant for climbing on. Sand? She exfoliates her paws with the stuff. She loves the feel of damp moss and isn’t fussed by the texture of twigs. She washes her toes in puddles and glides on the snow and ice.
Her owner on the other hand is not a tank. Her owner does not always enjoy the terrain we encounter on our walks. Snow and ice aren’t so much a glide as a slide or slip! I’d prefer not to have my toes squishing in the mud or damp moss. Damp sand is acceptable if we are walking along the beach. Rocks and twigs aren’t my thing; I don’t mind grass, just not with bare feet.
So why am I telling you this? Because dear friends today’s walk started with cement which gave way to dirt and grass. The dirt and grass gave way to rocks and sticks on hard packed dirt. And all of that stuff led me to realize that my companion, the one I thought was a dog, is in fact a tank of sorts. While I was struggling with the terrain she was having a ball. While my feet were less than thrilled her paws were in paw heaven. Somehow this doesn’t seem fair. And I wonder how I got to where I am. So it a case of too many hours in shoes or is this why early humans perhaps were more nomadic, to get away from things which were unpleasant underfoot? Did I mention I’m in awe of this sweet dog of mine? That is when my feet aren’t suffering from the path she chooses for us!