Breaking It With Cake

Some days you need to break the rules and have cake for breakfast.  Heck be bold and have it for all of your meals for a day if you wish.  Although I recommend if you do that you change it up with different types of cake for each meal.  That way you don’t get bored with one flavor.  That is if you happen to be someone who likes variety.

Today was a break all the rules day.  All of them.  It was eat cake whenever you want, as often as you want.  It was drink way ever you want, when you want it.  It was wear your comfortable clothes and enjoy your cake kind of day.  Basically it was a do whatever you want kind of day.  Because the rules suck.  And there are too many of them.

The best about breaking the rules is when your partner also is in the mood to break the rules.  To be honest Beloved started it this time,  only wasn’t for the whole day.  Just when he came home in the afternoon.  And yes, he was home shortly after one.  I didn’t make it home until after three.

So when the urge hit him, he walked down to the bakery and bought a few slices of cake. A small tart or two.  When I got home he was setting out the cake, frothing milk for lattes and wanting to talk about anything or than work.  Or rules.  Or the government.

So we enjoyed cake.  And tried a tart.  And decided we really needed to walk that off and headed no where in particular.  And yet ended up at the market where Beloved bought pastries for later on.  Because it was one of those days.  The kind where bedtime doesn’t matter.

Come the next few days there will be a horde of vegetables in this house.  And that’s about it.  Because sometimes you need to follow and exceed the rules.  Especially after you’ve broken them.

Medical Mania or My Crazy Medical Mind

I have at least three terminal illnesses and a few rather exotic ones as well.  At least according to my research.  On the Internet.  Which of course is always the best way source of diagnosing oneself.  Especially if you allow yourself to go to the most extreme measures.

For instance, I have no clue how this happened, but I have a small area on my finger tip that feels as if something is embedded in it.  Now there is nothing visible to the naked eye, so after some research it’s rather clear that I have only a short time left before my finger falls off.  Hey it could happen.  Perhaps.  But I hope not.

I had developed a strange pain the area of my ribs so that’s clearly a collapsed lung.  Has to be right?  At least something serious because a strained muscle is umm not the fun stuff the Internet brought up.

Even better is that friends will use the Internet to help me solve my concerns.  So when I mentioned that I was feeling more exhausted than usual, it was determined that I must have terminal cancer.  That was from a close friend who was trying to help me.  She struggled trying to break the news to me.

Broken toe?  Hardly.  My toe wasn’t broken, the bone was dissolving and the foot would clearly eventually fall off.  So that’s going for me too.

And I know I’m not alone in this fun.  And that’s kind of what it is, I mean I obviously have some serious health issues with lupus, but it’s also amusing in a strange way.  It wouldn’t be if my bones were dissolving and my foot was going to fall off.  It wouldn’t be, if I took this as my only form of diagnosis.

Of Cows, Wind, Fish, and Dogs

Where I grew up it wasn’t uncommon to see cows passing by in the air if the conditions were favorable. Okay so you really didn’t’ see them passing by unless your bathtub happened to have been picked up in the same swirl of the tornado. If you managed to get into a storm shelter, well those had no windows for a reason and frankly seeing a cow flying while you were in a shelter dug into the earth meant you were on the good stuff and should share it. Why keep flying cows all to yourself?!

Where Beloved grew up, they don’t have flying cows. Ever. They do however having flying water. Lots of it, in a variety of travel directions and origins. Let’s just say that there are times the wee bit of damp decides it can fly too. I’m not a fan of this.

I’m always just a wee bit worried that with this flying water there will be a bit of ocean life or river life in it. Now I have heard of flying fish, I’ve even seen the odd one, but they are designed for a purpose. I have images of a whale getting caught up in a huge wind gust that has pushed the sea water to my door and there is this whale peering into my house. Worse would be if it was flying over head. I mean whales are heavy. Gravity makes everything seem a bit more heavy. The attraction of a nice roof to land on and flatten is surely too much for a whale to pass on while its making it’s mid-flight decisions. Then again, the poor whale may be wondering what the heck is happening!

When they said we were getting some gusts of wind I was ready. I’ve been through gusts of wind. I’ve been through tornadoes and hurricanes. I figured I was good. Since these were just supposed to be gusts, I was positive it would be nothing more than a few broken branches here and there. Not that I’d see it because the two four-footed ones insist that I spend my storm time with them. In the closet. Way at the back. Now a word here about the back of the closet with two dogs that happen to be afraid…it’s not a pretty sight. Nor is it all that comfortable. And one of the poor dogs has a bit of a problem. When he gets scared we all know. We can smell it, for miles. Imagine being trapped in a small, dark closet with two dogs, both panting out waves of doggie breath and one also releasing gas every two to three seconds. Lovely isn’t it?

But maybe, I reasoned, since it was only gusts, I could sit outside the closet. Just outside, where they knew I was still there. They could see me, even touch me. But I’d be a bit out of the doggie perfume! The dogs had different ideas. Ideas that included the back of the closet and creating a puppy pile of sorts, using me as something to both be on and have over the. And I say I can’t do yoga! 🙂

So the gusts came, gusted and left and I figured a few broken branches, the odd knocked over pot and all the leaves blown out of our garden would greet me. Certainly no whale would be caught up in a mere gust. And yet when I emerged from my time with the dogs that’s not what greeted me at all.

At first I thought I may have inhaled too many fumes and was hallucinating. Surely that could explain what I was seeing. But after several deep breaths of fresh air, the view did not change. And what I was looking at was astonishing, at least to me. Keep in mind that I’m a city kid; one that likes things to be in their proper places. A fish, one I had never seen before was on my patio, just sort of flopping around amid some branches and puddles. There was a fish on the fence too. My neighbor had some fish and a few bricks in her yard. Neither of us have ponds. But we now have fish. I have no clue where they came from or even what to do with them. I mean there are puddles for them right now, but I don’t’ know if the puddles have the right kind of water for them. I don’t’ know if the puddles are deep enough either. I’m pretty sure this is all because I was moaning about having to go into the closet with the dogs. Nature’s way of making my fear of flying whales a little more close to reality.

Cures, Quacks and Crazy

If  I had a nickel for every time someone told me they knew exactly how to cure my lupus, I’d be a wealthy woman.

I’ve heard everything from fresh, crisp mountain air to the dry, hot air of desert.  I’ve heard how organic food will heal me with its miraculous properties.  If only I’d cut out gluten or sugar then id be cured.  Ionized water was another suggestion.  Then there was the full oxygen therapy.  Oh and mud from the Dead Sea area, plus some salt for drawing out all that ails me.

Rest in a well purified room will do wonders.  Rest under the stars and out in the open will cure me because I will receive the best sleep ever.  Hmm pure organic cotton should be something I rest under.  Wool from pure, virgin llamas will save me.

And on and on it goes.  Whatever the latest craze is, or whatever strikes someone’s fancy seems to be exactly what will cure me.  The more exotic, the harder it is to obtain the more quickly I will be cured.

I wonder if these well-meaning people think my doctors are inept or something.  Surely if this would heal me, my doctors would have heard of it.  There would be studies being run on this.  Just, you know, so the doctors would understand.

some of these suggestions come from well-meaning people who want me whole and better again.  And some of these suggestions are from people who are throwing darts at a target.

this kind of stuff used to drive me up a wall. I mean it seemed everyone knew someone who knew how to cure lupus.  Now, however, it amuses me.  And who knows, at some point one of these crazy ideas may hold the key to removing lupus rm my life.  And then what shall I do without my trusty sidekick?!☺️

Present Touching Past

“It’s the energy you see,” he said as he spun n a circle, his arms held out to his side.  “More like the altitude,” I muttered to myself “that’s made him off his rocker”.

We’d spent the better part of two hours climbing this hill, man-made to be sure.  It isn’t that it was a steep climb, but at one time it had been terraced, now it was just uneven and seemed to be waiting for a misstep.  He had also insisted that we stop at “key” areas  where “energy flows bubble up”.

I couldn’t see or feel any change in these spots, even though he claimed he felt lighter and full of calmness.  I had decided he just arbitrarily came up with reasons why he wanted to stop and rest.  It was the only thing that made sense to me.

Now that I was standing at this high place I couldn’t help but marvel at the amount of work and determination that would have been required to be this huge hill.  I had to remind myself it was much smaller today than when it was in its hey-day.  Wind, rain and time had all eroded much the height and  sharp lines of the terraces.

Faith, desperation, belief, fear or what, I wondered, had led humans to create this special place.  A place that not all would be allowed to climb.  What deity demanded this kind of place?  Wha else did this deity demand to hear th requests, prayers and dreams of the people wh who came here to worship?

While he continued to marvel in the energy and the power he seemed to be picking up from everywhere, I wondered what made people suddenly abandon this place and perhaps this deity?  Could we even know for sure if this was a place of worship or could it have been some type of palace for a ruler?

Was he , in his modern garb and strange ideas of how to communicate with the energy here, creating some sort of link between the present and the past or was he just foolish?  Is there every a way to prove something like this?  Or for that mater, disprove it?

I took in the view and wondered what it would have looked like all those years ago.  I know trees had once been in the now barren fields below the mound.  The ancients from here and used up all the wood, cut down and destroyed all their trees and none seemed to have ever grown back.  Was that a sign of this place’s power or was it a reminder of how complete human footprints can be in nature?

We were silent on our trip back down to the car.  He was lost in whatever it was he had contacted up there and I as left pondering how much we haven’t really changed as a species.  We still seek power, powerful places.  We still leave our lasting mark on nature and believe the higher power will give us our desires.  We still alter, change and destroy as we see fit.

Despite Annoyingw

Sometimes, like now as he sits there clicking his pen and bouncing a leg, I wonder about us.  How is it that two people so different and yet so similar be together?  I’m sure that just as his pen clicking drives me batty there are things I do that drive him crazy too.

Of sure there are things we have in common, a love of books, words and debate for example.  And yet it is those very things that drive us apart at times.  We each get lost sometimes in whatever we are reading, completely lost to,the point of not hearing the   other person.  Anything and everything is open for debate for the mere sake of debate itself.  And words can be used to skewer each other in moments of hurt, rage or fear.

then there is his insane belief that tea will fix anything.  Foolish man, anyone knows that coffee is the answer.  Just as a civilized person knows to put the  sections back in order after it’s been read.  He leaves it in a jumble and says it’s not rocket science to figure out the order.

there are days I wonder how he gets through life without people looking after him.  He can become so engrossed in something that he misses meals or appointments and then other days when he seems impossible to be entertained.

I’m sure he has those moments where he wonders what he got himself into as well.  My need for coffee upon waking causes him to groan.  My ability to stick stubbornly to something rather than admit defeat have led to missed appointments and unnecessary stress.  My inability to enjoy he beach in the rain means outings on his own.  Land while he professes to love it, I believe he actual has grown weary of my constant complaining to the television about something I saw in a show or commercial.

He adores  and chips, pretentious wine and  ballet.  I much prefer not to have fish and chips, don’t put much on pretentious wine because it’s the flavour that counts and cannot for the life of me get into watching ballet.

I drag him to graveyards, sporting events and put-of-the-way places that require long drives.  He hates sporting events, long drives can wear on him and he says he doesn’t need to see graveyards before he is in one, for good.

Sarcasm drips from my words frequently, I’m pretty sure this is a disability, where as he tends save sarcasm and use it sparingly.

Perhaps it is because we balance each other that it works.  And perhaps it’s just a dear of a murder charge that prevents us from reaching that point.  All I know is despite all of those annoying things it works!

Mindful Loss

Well I officially lost my mind. I’m not  sure where it went.  I have no clue if it will come back.  The only thing I know is that I’ve lost it, as in its gone.  As in it’s no longer here.  As in how else can you explain me willingly agreeing to spend a week, a whole week, unplugged and disconnected?  Yep that’s right, a whole week.

Now let me lay this straight out for you, not only are we talking a whole week without technical devices and connections, but a whole week in a place with Beloved and the dog.  No other distractions, well other than books.

And this my dear friends is where the problem begins.  You see Beloved can’t stand not knowing what’s happening in the world.  He struggles to not be constantly in the know.  And suddenly we will be faced with just each other for conversation, entertainment and frankly not much for diversions.

If we lived in earlier times we’d have worked hard, physical labor mostly, for the day and then be stuck with each other at night, but too exhausted to need to worry about much.  Now we will have a full seven days and nights with no diversions.  It’s a make or break type deal for some people.  For us it’s a what were you thinking?

So yes friends I’ve lost my mind because I’ve readily agreed to this idea, knowing what’s in it.  But what adventure doesn’t begin with someone losing his/her mind?  The best stories seem to start with a what were you thinking moment.  At least that’s the story I’m  sticking to. 😉