Well, here I sit with winter brewing another cup of demon liquor. There’s a blizzard building momentum and by evening there should be a predicted 30 cm covering the ground. In my little piece of the planet, that assures four feet high drifts in the most inconvenient places. I live by the sea and the winds whisk the snow into sculptured waves in various areas around the house, a stark contrast to other spots of wind swept, bare ground. Today I feel like I’m inside a snow globe as Mother Nature shakes the clouds, sending flakes of silvery white to the ground.
The storm is pretty spectacular really and beautiful from a window seat while sipping a freshly brewed coffee, but not so much an outdoor kind of day. It would be nice to feel content, but through the serenity of being in this Currier and Ives painting, I’m feeling annoyed, begrudging this forced day off. I have a list of things to complete with a deadline of the end of this month. I’ve set goals and now there’s only a week remaining so I can’t afford to lounge around in jammies all day and play.
Play…..that’s a poor choice of words…who am I kidding? There is no play for the woman of the house when the dishes are piling up and the laundry is even higher. Being forced to stay home today is bringing on guilt. I have a system that’s been interrupted. I leave the house in the morning and lock the door on the mess; out of sight, out of mind all the day long. By the time I get home at night I’m too tired to care and usually go for a short nap. Then I make dinner, write a blog, watch a show or two and then it’s time for bed. So I skip over the chore duty smoothly, I'm busy so no guilt. But there’s no escape from this Alcatraz today! I’m bound here and the mess is bullying me into feeling badly. I’m foiled! I can’t ignore chores when I have to wallow in the mess. Damn you storm, now there’s laundry and dishes and maybe despised vacuuming calling on me. It’s no secret I’m not a fan of housework, it serves little purpose in my life as there are greater things of importance. I’m determined that my tombstone won’t read, “She kept a tidy house”, I want it to read, “She created beautiful things everyday!”
But….luckily, there’s no one here to chastise my laziness….so maybe I’ll suppress the inner, irritating, domestic voice and play hooky from both work and house. Maybe I’ll just hook. I have a project I’m working on so why not just spend the day having fun. It sucks being an adult and all the rules that ensue and way too many responsibilities. Maybe for today I’ll pretend I’m a teenager with fewer concerns like zits and school work.
Ironically, I’ve got the zit part in the bag, another side effect of menopause. The red and pulsating aftermath from partaking in a rather delightful Zucchini cake brought into the shop by Nancy, our new employee. After tasting a few of her wares I must say she’s an exceptional baker. Her Chocolate Brownies were the best I’ve eaten, so sinful you need to pray to the Diabetes God to spare you. I had to warn her though, I like seafood….if I see it, I eat it. I’ve got the willpower of a cadaver. So if she treats Shane to her homemade goodies it has to be on the sly, not a whiff or a crumb to tempt me, kept away like kryptonite from superman. We both grow weak and lose all powers when exposed.
From that momentary lapse in judgement, I was punished with a colossal zit on my chin, which I might add didn’t need further extenuating. I’m no Leno but there’s a possibility I’m a distance cousin. Nancy drizzled a lemon glaze over the cake and once that hit my taste buds wham….I was a goner. Anything that boasts a hint of lemon is lethal. Within two days I devoured all eight hunks, thank the stars she didn’t bring the entire pan or I might be writing my own obituary today, in preparation for that boney finger rapping on the door.
The fact that eating refined sugar can manifest itself with acne has always annoyed me. A dermatologist once told me that it’s impossible to get problematic skin from food. Bullcrap to that! This was about 20 years ago so maybe they’ve caught up with reality now. Back when I was suffering with Environmental Sickness, I argued with him for years if I ate sugar I got rewarded the next day with a breakout. He wouldn’t believe me and told me it was hormonal. Sure blame everything on hormones, the easy out when they can’t explain why it happens, just take this drug and live with it. For my case, no one could convince me otherwise and now it’s back with a vengeance. Since the onset of menopause, whatever my body is doing or not doing, if I eat refined sugar I get a zit, like clockwork, 12-24 hours later.
So when my skin is clear that’s the reward for abstinence. When you see a little something, I’ve been naughty. I can’t lie, the zit is my Pinocchio’s nose, the more I sneak, the bigger it gets. When a lone pimple reaches its pinnacle, then it separates into two or three with equal ferocity. I’m weak, I break down every now and then because everything that tastes good is temptation and I’ve got a bit of Eve in me. Sweets are like a drug, the yummmmm factor makes you feel good as the heavenly delight passes over your tongue. But, you don’t feel so good after you eat it, the worry sets in and the guilt for being corruptible and knowing the dreaded zit is on its way makes you entertain the idea of Bulimia but that’s a whole other bag of crazy that I don’t plan to practice.
And that brings me back to the weather. Sugar and snow are both bad for us. They are both pretty but deadly. Snow causes car accidents and sugar causes illness. It’s white death from both! During a snowstorm I look out of the window and think of the unfortunate people who will get into accidents, maybe I should apply that philosophy to sugar. The older I get the less I find comfort in food so I am able to sustain longer periods without being seduced by the memory of those comfort foods. Because that’s what it is for me. Memories of my mother and her fabulous pastries and baked goods. Yummmmmmmmmmm! Only certain foods tempt me and they can all be traced back to my childhood.
So I’m in for the day with a big crackling fire in the stove. There’s good and bad waging war in my brain. Housework or hooking? There are a couple of movies taped on the DVR, the dogs are fed, played with and are now napping at my feet while I write. There’s a comfort in the air that begs for relaxing. One of my new Christmas stocking designs is on my frame and I’m swaying toward fun for the afternoon. As long as the snow keeps winter in business, I’ll work on the stocking patterns and put them away in the spring. Snow on the ground reminds me of the holidays so hooking Christmas flavoured designs seems fitting. My goal for this year is to have 50 stocking patterns available for next season. I’m at the 24 mark now, so it’s not an unrealistic ambition. Considering they are only three day projects I hope to hook a bunch as well.
I’m no clairvoyant, but I predict I’ll be holding a shovel sometime today……the winds are bitter at -12, face freezing weather, so I won’t be going out until there’s a lull. And….once things calm down I’m going to make that snow angel!
To Charlene who is currently in Florida…..enjoy sista!
The storm is pretty spectacular really and beautiful from a window seat while sipping a freshly brewed coffee, but not so much an outdoor kind of day. It would be nice to feel content, but through the serenity of being in this Currier and Ives painting, I’m feeling annoyed, begrudging this forced day off. I have a list of things to complete with a deadline of the end of this month. I’ve set goals and now there’s only a week remaining so I can’t afford to lounge around in jammies all day and play.
Play…..that’s a poor choice of words…who am I kidding? There is no play for the woman of the house when the dishes are piling up and the laundry is even higher. Being forced to stay home today is bringing on guilt. I have a system that’s been interrupted. I leave the house in the morning and lock the door on the mess; out of sight, out of mind all the day long. By the time I get home at night I’m too tired to care and usually go for a short nap. Then I make dinner, write a blog, watch a show or two and then it’s time for bed. So I skip over the chore duty smoothly, I'm busy so no guilt. But there’s no escape from this Alcatraz today! I’m bound here and the mess is bullying me into feeling badly. I’m foiled! I can’t ignore chores when I have to wallow in the mess. Damn you storm, now there’s laundry and dishes and maybe despised vacuuming calling on me. It’s no secret I’m not a fan of housework, it serves little purpose in my life as there are greater things of importance. I’m determined that my tombstone won’t read, “She kept a tidy house”, I want it to read, “She created beautiful things everyday!”
But….luckily, there’s no one here to chastise my laziness….so maybe I’ll suppress the inner, irritating, domestic voice and play hooky from both work and house. Maybe I’ll just hook. I have a project I’m working on so why not just spend the day having fun. It sucks being an adult and all the rules that ensue and way too many responsibilities. Maybe for today I’ll pretend I’m a teenager with fewer concerns like zits and school work.
Ironically, I’ve got the zit part in the bag, another side effect of menopause. The red and pulsating aftermath from partaking in a rather delightful Zucchini cake brought into the shop by Nancy, our new employee. After tasting a few of her wares I must say she’s an exceptional baker. Her Chocolate Brownies were the best I’ve eaten, so sinful you need to pray to the Diabetes God to spare you. I had to warn her though, I like seafood….if I see it, I eat it. I’ve got the willpower of a cadaver. So if she treats Shane to her homemade goodies it has to be on the sly, not a whiff or a crumb to tempt me, kept away like kryptonite from superman. We both grow weak and lose all powers when exposed.
From that momentary lapse in judgement, I was punished with a colossal zit on my chin, which I might add didn’t need further extenuating. I’m no Leno but there’s a possibility I’m a distance cousin. Nancy drizzled a lemon glaze over the cake and once that hit my taste buds wham….I was a goner. Anything that boasts a hint of lemon is lethal. Within two days I devoured all eight hunks, thank the stars she didn’t bring the entire pan or I might be writing my own obituary today, in preparation for that boney finger rapping on the door.
The fact that eating refined sugar can manifest itself with acne has always annoyed me. A dermatologist once told me that it’s impossible to get problematic skin from food. Bullcrap to that! This was about 20 years ago so maybe they’ve caught up with reality now. Back when I was suffering with Environmental Sickness, I argued with him for years if I ate sugar I got rewarded the next day with a breakout. He wouldn’t believe me and told me it was hormonal. Sure blame everything on hormones, the easy out when they can’t explain why it happens, just take this drug and live with it. For my case, no one could convince me otherwise and now it’s back with a vengeance. Since the onset of menopause, whatever my body is doing or not doing, if I eat refined sugar I get a zit, like clockwork, 12-24 hours later.
So when my skin is clear that’s the reward for abstinence. When you see a little something, I’ve been naughty. I can’t lie, the zit is my Pinocchio’s nose, the more I sneak, the bigger it gets. When a lone pimple reaches its pinnacle, then it separates into two or three with equal ferocity. I’m weak, I break down every now and then because everything that tastes good is temptation and I’ve got a bit of Eve in me. Sweets are like a drug, the yummmmm factor makes you feel good as the heavenly delight passes over your tongue. But, you don’t feel so good after you eat it, the worry sets in and the guilt for being corruptible and knowing the dreaded zit is on its way makes you entertain the idea of Bulimia but that’s a whole other bag of crazy that I don’t plan to practice.
And that brings me back to the weather. Sugar and snow are both bad for us. They are both pretty but deadly. Snow causes car accidents and sugar causes illness. It’s white death from both! During a snowstorm I look out of the window and think of the unfortunate people who will get into accidents, maybe I should apply that philosophy to sugar. The older I get the less I find comfort in food so I am able to sustain longer periods without being seduced by the memory of those comfort foods. Because that’s what it is for me. Memories of my mother and her fabulous pastries and baked goods. Yummmmmmmmmmm! Only certain foods tempt me and they can all be traced back to my childhood.
So I’m in for the day with a big crackling fire in the stove. There’s good and bad waging war in my brain. Housework or hooking? There are a couple of movies taped on the DVR, the dogs are fed, played with and are now napping at my feet while I write. There’s a comfort in the air that begs for relaxing. One of my new Christmas stocking designs is on my frame and I’m swaying toward fun for the afternoon. As long as the snow keeps winter in business, I’ll work on the stocking patterns and put them away in the spring. Snow on the ground reminds me of the holidays so hooking Christmas flavoured designs seems fitting. My goal for this year is to have 50 stocking patterns available for next season. I’m at the 24 mark now, so it’s not an unrealistic ambition. Considering they are only three day projects I hope to hook a bunch as well.
I’m no clairvoyant, but I predict I’ll be holding a shovel sometime today……the winds are bitter at -12, face freezing weather, so I won’t be going out until there’s a lull. And….once things calm down I’m going to make that snow angel!
To Charlene who is currently in Florida…..enjoy sista!
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