Unblocking the Pipeline

I've been chewing over the same bit of my book (the one I'm writing) for weeks now. I'm bored, and certainly anyone reading this bit would be bored. It's like looking across a gorge. I can see where I need to go, but I'm damned if I have the tools to build a satisfactory bridge. It got so bad that I was deliberately refusing to think about how to fix my problem. I would remind myself, "You know, you really ought to have a good think about that scene. It needs to go somewhere." Then I would stick my head in the proverbial sand and think about something else. Finally, a couple of nights ago, into my head popped what it was I needed. It was nothing exceptional, just a bit of bridging dialogue to move it forward. I needed to wait until the characters had something to say, I guess. It's not spectacular even now, but it's moving again. After struggling with this (or avoiding it) for so long, today I sat down and discovered I'd written 800 words in very little time at all and finished the segment of the chapter I needed to nail down. I can hear the creaking noises of the behemoth train which is my wee potboiler as it rolls on at last.

Moment of Panic

I don't exist. My email doesn't exist? Who am I? What is my password? What do you mean it doesn't match my email addy? Who knew the internet could pose such a plethora of existential dilemmas? When you can't log in to something, do you not experience a moment of pure panic? Is it the same kind of panic as being locked out of your house? Or is it more closely akin to fearing you actually no longer exist? If Da Big Screen doesn't want you to play, are you locked out forever? Must go back to wringing my hands and checking my driver's license...

Just Do It

That's an ambiguous phrase. I would quite like to see it linked to another phrase, like: "Learn to make seal flipper pie -- Just Do It", or "Get into that closet with those firecrackers -- Just Do It". But, alas, it always comes with that monolithic image of someone doing something nobly athletic.

So, today, after working at my university for ten years, I Just Did It. I darkened the doors of the athletics building for the first time and bought a membership to the fitness club for a semester. No more whiny excuses about going for a run. "It's too cold. It's too wet. It's too snowy. My nose will fall off." (This is, after all, the prairies.) I will have an indoor track and treadmills galore less than a hundred metres away. I will look like a right shnook for a while, until people grow accustomed to me and, rather than laugh, are moved to see me as bravely soldiering on despite having been born with all the natural athletic grace of a wounded water buffalo. "Bless her, she's really trying," they will say, and then look reassuringly down at their lean young spandexed thighs. Insert crying smiley here.

Munich

I finally watched Spielberg's Munich tonight and was very impressed, both by the film's balancing act and by Eric Bana's and Michel Lonsdale's performances. Spielberg seemed critical not of the Israelis or the Palestinians alone but of the violence which destroys the human soul. The script made clear (if it was not already clear from the many references to kitchens and food) that home is the central hearth and heart of human existence, and that home is not a country but the people you love. Avner gives everything to his country, "his true mother', only to lose his very self in the process. Only the love of his wife and child can bring him back from the abyss. Ultimately he is betrayed by his country's politics and healed by the profound, non-verbal things that those ideologies mask. Spielberg has equally compelling speeches about the importance of a home from both a Palestinian freedom-fighter and Avner's mother, and leaves the audience with the sense that both -- and neither -- are right. Spielberg's argument is that violence begets only more violence. One of the most interesting scenes takes place in a safe house which has been (deliberately?) overbooked for the night -- given to the Israelis seeking to avenge their country for Black September at the same time as it is given to a group from the PLO. The possibility for violence is present, but it is mutually decided that the house will be neutral ground for the night. I watched this, thinking about the current situation between Lebanon and Israel, wishing all political divisions could be solved so easily. In the safe house, a Palestinian tunes in Arabic music on the radio; Daniel Craig's Steve replaces this with his own choice of music. This goes on, back and forth, until Steve finds music which pleases both and a compromise is reached. It is a brief moment, but Golda Meir's early speech about compromise at the beginning of the film demands that it be taken seriously. For one moment, if they choose to, enemies can make peace. Sadly, the film also recognises the ephemeral nature of such a possibility.

Idiot Proof Pie

I am sporadically a good cook. I was an excellent cook for some years (except when my parents were visiting), and then went through two years after my daughter was born when I found I became unable to read and comprehend a recipe. Fortunately, my husband is an excellent (and careful) cook, so he took over until my neuropathways cleared and I could think again. I have had a certain crisis of confidence in my abilities since then, and am now universally known in our family as the "One Pot Queen": stews, soup, pasta, roasts. If it can be made in one pot, I will make something fantastic. Two pots gets a little dicey. If the meal involves having three things on the go at the same time, call the fire department and order out. As a result, I am always on the lookout for simple recipes that don't tax the frazzled brain. (I mean, I've got a fucking Ph.D. -- it's not like I can't read the bloody recipes. I just get ... distracted.) So here is an idiot-proof recipe for a pie courtesy of our friends at Jell-O.

Creamy Lemon Pie

1 3/4 c. cold milk
2 pkg. (4 serving size) Jell-O Vanilla Flavour Instant Pudding & Pie Filling
1 can (6 oz) frozen lemonade concentrate, thawed
1 sm. tub (8 oz.) Cool Whip Whipped Topping, thawed
1 prepared graham cracker crumb crust (6 oz.)
lemon slices (optional)

1. Pour milk into large bowl. Add pudding mixes. Beat with whisk 30 seconds. Add lemonade concentrate. Beat with wire whisk 30 seconds. (Mixture will be thick.) Immediately stir in whipped topping. Spoon into crust.

2. Refrigerate 4 hours or until set. Garnish with lemon slices, if desired. Store in refrigerator. Makes 8 servings (caution -- rich!).

For me there is a third step.

3. Step away from the pie. Do not touch the pie. Watch others enjoy the pie.

The Big Cold Empty

The space before you is dark, crowded with objects, but in the distance you can obscurely see a light squinting between these objects. Many of the things before you are unrecognisable, possibly remnants of a former civilisation. You move forward, uncertain, trembling.

You have entered the world of ...my fridge.

But tonight -- victory is mine! With a summer party imminent, I have excavated its vast tomblike space and discovered Assyrian pickled asparagus, Sumerian cottage cheese, Mesopotamian apple butter and Minoan something-or-other in a jar I never plan to open. And with a flick of the arm (using an excavation technique that would make Heinrich Schliemann gasp with its audacity) I have tossed the lot. I can now see the light at the back of my fridge. It is no longer obscured by unused bottles of wheat germ, apricot jam, or unidentifiable "gift" jellies.

If I was hoping to find anything of value -- like a 4.5 carat diamond or the keys to a forgotten 5-series BMW -- I guess I came up short. I did find the two pieces of our wedding cake (circa 1995) that we keep meaning to eat on our anniversary. It's a good thing we come of maritime stock because Maritimers put a hell of a lot of booze in their fruitcake. (If the Americans knew, as we do, that fruitcake is merely a device for transmitting massive amounts of alchohol they wouldn't mock at the stuff they way they do.)

I may spend the rest of the evening peeking in my fridge periodically, just enjoying The Big Cold Empty.

Salad Days

^&*_@%^&!@!!!!!!!! If I have to eat another bowl of goddamn salad I am going to burst into tears. Lunch is now a rained-out beach party of misery. I watch my daughter and her friend Olivia consume hot dogs with the watery eyes of a half-rabid animal.

South Beach blessed me with a piece of whole wheat toast and light swiss cheese for breakfast today. I was in heaven. The half a grapefruit and Splenda wasn't half bad either.

Dieting really sucks. Extended dieting sucks even more. What do you mean, it's only been a little over three weeks? I feel like I've been dieting since Hitler's annexation of Austria.

It is worth it, I suppose. But I need more variety soon or my tastebuds are going to secede from the rest of my body and set themselves up as an independent carbohydrate-led state.

Current Reading: Terry Goodkind's Faith of the Fallen (2000).

Undaunted!

I did it! I did it! By George, I did it!

No, I'm not going to burst into a bad imitation of Rex Harrison in My Fair Lady. I am, however, thrilled because I made it through a 6:1 run of nearly 2 miles!!! And I kept a steady pace to boot! I was certain I would never be able to make it. Run for 6 minutes straight? Yeah, right. But I did and I am completely amazed. It may seem like small potatoes to more experienced runners, but it's more than I ever thought I'd manage. (Potatoes? Did I say potatoes? Small round new potatoes swimming in butter and chives...mmmm. Slapping self.)

Sleepless in Saskatchewan

I love my husband. Really, I do. However, between 11 pm and 12:30 am I believe he ought to be strung up by his thumbs and tortured until he stops snoring, or breathing -- or both.

I belong to a subset of society known as the undead. We are the spouses or partners of repeat offender snorers, doomed to walk the earth in a state of barely alert somnolence, hoping not for peace on earth or an end to cancer but just to get a decent night's sleep.

I spend night after night waiting for my beloved to stop snoring so I can try to go to sleep. I stare at the ceiling and sometimes even close my eyes in the belief that he's stopped but then -- ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ -- there it is again, and he's off and snoring. Usually after an hour I get out of bed, go downstairs, and either turn on the computer (hence the many late-night posts) or watch television if there's anything worth looking at. Usually by 12:30 he's reached whatever sleep phase inhibits snoring and it's safe to go back upstairs and close my eyes without being startled awake by noises which imitate an angry rhino on the attack.

He says I snore in the morning, and I believe him. By then I'm so exhausted by his snoring I wouldn't be surprised at anything I might do.

Taking a Breather

Taking a breather from reading anything serious. Just going through hordes of magazines that have been piling up in the meantime. If I didn't, I'd never have a clue about breast cancer, brie and pear salad or how to have great sex. (Note: Sarcasm light is blinking.) When I'm done going through some past issues of Chatelaine and old alumni magazines from U of T and the UK, I'm going to treat myself to catching up on the last three Terry Goodkind fantasy novels in paperback. Excuse me, I have to go back to reading about the links between diet and breast cancer ...

As I write this I can hear the wonderful carillon bells from the local Catholic cathedral ringing out a lovely tune. It's Sunday morning and I am still feeling uncomfortable about the extended breather I have been taking from church for the past year or so. The ragging and whining going on in the Anglican church about the same sex marriage/blessing issue and the endless infighting it inspired made me depressed about going to church. I then started reading some John Spong books and realised I wasn't the only liberal, free-thinking Anglican out there. I stopped going when the sense of depression at being in church became too great for me to enjoy what I had once loved. I look forward, however, to returning soon, probably to a different parish where I feel less inundated by reactionary thought. The hard part is not going back, but making sure I'm clear about why I left and why I am coming back. I want to return to churchgoing with joy, not merely guilt. I take some encouragement from the fact that if my relationship with the church is complicated, it means at least that I am doing some real thinking about it. As Philip Gosse said to his son, the critic and writer Edmund Gosse: "If you weren't worrying about whether you are a good Christian, it would mean you weren't trying to be."

See "Jane" Run

I managed to make it through another run today and went further than before. This time I made it through the three 5-minute sets and went 2.02 miles!!!! I could have got another set of 5 in but since I'd gone running yesterday made a conscious decision not to and walked for 6 minutes at the end. Still, I'm pleased as punch about going this far, given that I thought I'd never manage it. This running thing is actually improving, I think! The instructor who got me started in January is offering another class in the fall, but I really prefer running alone rather than in a pack (where I am inevitably last), so I think I'll skip it and just keep plugging away on my own. My first long-term goal is to run 20 minutes non-stop. I imagine that will take me all year.

Weekend Weigh-in 2

Starting weight: 172.5
Today's weight: 163.5

That's 9 pounds. Yay! I'm aiming for 10.5 pounds, so I'll suck it up for another pound and a half and then move to phase 2 of South Beach. Another run today should help.

Lousy Day, Good Run

Today was a hard day personally -- I had a strange sense of depression I couldn't shake and was less than pleasant to my family. Took my daughter to see Barnyard in hopes of laughing it away. It would have worked too if she hadn't thrown a hissy fit about not getting yet more snacks in the cinema (on top of what we got to start with). Sigh. As a friend of mine says: "Remember the mother's mantra: 'Good mothers put holes in the box before they mail their children to Tuktoyaktuk. Good mothers put holes in the box before they mail their children to Tuktoyaktuk. Good mothers ... " You get the idea.

The sky was black when we came out of the cinema at 4:30, but even now, eight hours later, no sign of a rain storm.

However, grumbling aside, the day improved by evening. My husband took the DD out to try to cajole her into learning to ride her bike with training wheels yet again and came back crowing that they had finally had some measure of success. Hurrah! We were beginning to think she was going to grow up without ever discovering the obverse side of inertia: "A body in motion has a tendency to stay in motion." I live in hope now that one day we will all go for a family bike-ride together.

While they did that, I opted for a run, working on the theory that going for a run is socially more acceptable than firing up the chainsaw and dismembering people. (Did I mention I was feeling a little ragged and tense?) I am now up to 5 and 1 in my training schedule and was amazed to find I got through 3 rounds of 5 minutes running (with a minute walking and rehydrating in between). I ended up going 1.59 miles which is, I think, my furthest yet. My runs are only between 15 and 20 minutes: today I went for 19 minutes. I didn't even feel too bad and am feeling very encouraged. Anyone who knows me must see how absurd it is that I should like running, but it is giving me a real sense of accomplishment -- even when my writing is languishing or being a mother is feeling less than thrilling. Someone said to me once, and they were right: "No one ever came back from a run wishing they hadn't bothered."

As far as the diet goes, I am still plugging along. I weighed 164 today. I may scream if I have to eat salad again...I'll scream, but then I'll eat it.

Another Day, Another Salad

Spent the morning with my friend L. at the local indoor playspace discussing the Lamb novel. Pleased as punch that she commented I looked thinner. Ordered the chicken caesar salad for lunch (NO MORE SALAD -- I BEG YOU!), and wasn't too thrilled to find the chicken was breaded. It was a kids' playspace after all -- probably the chicken pieces were chicken fingers in a former existence. Ate it anyway, since I've been pretty good so far and lunch is lunch. I ran over a mile this evening anyway, so it all comes out in the wash. (Yeah, you big-ass runners are laughing your butts off at that, I know. But for me, 1.13 miles is just fine.)

I am almost finished The Four-Gated City (or Fifty Ways to Nod Off While Reading). Only 8 pages to go! Might as well be 80 as I drag myself through this soporific wankfest. Sorry, Doris May. I'm sure you're a wonderful woman and a deep thinker and all that, but I would rather chew off my own leg than read a seventh book of yours. I've done my time in Lessing Prison.

Back from the West

We just returned from 5 days in Edmonton, Alberta, where we went to attend the wedding of a cousin of my husband's. I did my level best to stick to the diet, and even made it through the wedding itself, cracking only to have a few sips of red wine to join in the toasts. I even passed up a scrumptious sweets table. Inwardly preened and fluffed my feathers when my sister-in-law noted she had never seen me without a full plate before and was impressed by my restraint. I know that sounds lame, but it was nice to have some encouragement! The next day I didn't do so well. We went to the bride's family's home the next day for the traditional Chinese tea ceremony (really a second wedding ceremony) and ... I cracked! The fabulous Chinese and Malaysian treats laid out proved too much for me and I indulged a bit too much. But I can't say it wasn't worth it! I don't think I actually did that much damage, but I was fearful of the slippery slope, as it were.

I was at least pleased to have got a couple of runs in on the treadmill at the Hotel Macdonald, one after walking for 5 hours at the West Edmonton Mall! I do so wish we had room for a treadmill at home...

We stayed with the in-laws a night on the way home. I skipped the muffins for breakfast and ended up being stuck having a grilled chicken salad at McD's on the way out of town so I didn't puke in the car on the long ride home...I can't say caesar salad is even remotely desirable at 10:45 am. Had a bunless veggie burger at a Saskatoon Harvey's for lunch and I think it fair to say that it was easily the most revolting veggie burger I have ever had the misfortune to eat. Burger King makes the only decent fast food veggie burgers in my experience.

Today was meant to be the last day of the first phase of the South Beach diet, but this weekend I haven't had as much control over what I ate as I would like, so I have decided to stick with it for another 5 days to compensate. I don't know exactly what I weigh since I am competing for truth with the worst period I've had in months, car ride bloat, and the wedding glitch. So I will weigh myself in a few days when I feel more normal. I am not being a chicken about this -- but neither do I want to burst into tears in disappointment due to an artificial weight gain that won't last.

Let's Not Get Physical

I was supposed to have a physical exam at my GP's today, but everything feels so tender that the idea of being poked and prodded was just intolerable. If anybody came near me with a speculum right now I might have to be very unpleasant to them. A speculaas I could handle (a delicious spicy Dutch cookie, for those who wonder)...
So I postponed the physical for another week and a half when I am less likely to want to throttle someone for touching me. (That said, my GP is an absolutely lovely, gentle woman whom I consider myself very lucky to have.)
Spent the day running around doing errands, including getting more insulin for one cat and anti-constipation medication for the other. Ka-ching! While I was out I bought March of the Penguins "for my daughter". I don't know which of us loved that movie more. I have a soft spot for penguins.

Heat Wave

Back it has come - 34 degrees yesterday and not much better today. I was meant to live in damper, rainier climes, I'm sure of it. I should have gone for a run yesterday but it was just too damn hot. I had visions of myself keeling over on the side of the road -- best to avoid that. Spent yesterday with my dear friend L. and her two daughters -- went to the splashpad and attempted to have an adult conversation while the kids played. We are reading the Wally Lamb book and had hoped to discuss it but it wasn't easy amidst the screeching and laughing and "Mommy!" every ten seconds...
And with the heat back have come the extra pounds. Between PMS and 34 degree weather, I don't expect I'll have a proper idea of what I weigh until the weekend when we are in a nice air-conditioned Edmonton hotel for a cousin-in-law's wedding. I have to admit the cravings that come at "this time of the month" have made sticking to South Beach more painful than usual. I held off with a few handfuls of sunflower seeds and a DQ Fudge Bar to help me out yesterday. What godlike being at DQ invented those things? They are absolutely delicious!!!!!
I am two thirds of the way through The Four-Gated City -- very up and down. Now that she's back into the political observations about the '60s I find the book more tolerable than the endless psychiatric wanking in the middle section...

Battle of the Bulge

Went for a 2.71 mile walk this afternoon. That's about 4.4 km. The pounds are still dropping. I laid awake last night trying to calculate how long it might take to get to my goal weight. This is a futile exercise since you can never tell really. I decided I will go back to phase I in late November before the Christmas bulge.

Damned on the Run

I am giving myself an enormous pat on the back for going for a run two days in a row. Friday was fairly pathetic, only 14 minutes with 8 minutes of running and six of walking and thinking how the only thing keeping me from dying was the fact that I was too bloody exhausted to "go toward the light". Saturday, however, though I only went a mile and a quarter, I ran for 12 out of 14 minutes. I'm still in "training mode", running 4 minutes and walking one (lather, rinse and repeat). So I got through another "set" of 4 minutes today! And felt much better at the end of it -- not completely ready to meet my maker. I've been doing this (with one big hiccough in the spring) since January, and though I would be embarrassed to run alongside anyone else I am fairly pleased that a sedentary asthmatic in her mid-40s can manage anything at all. At no point in my future do I ever envision doing a marathon! I do at least now run during daylight. For a long time I ran only at night so that I wouldn't have the neighbours pointing and falling down laughing. I know I run like a 90-year-old git with emphysema. But I keep on trying, and as my husband always tells me (in a complete different context, mind you) enthusiasm is everything...

Starting weight: 172.5
Loss: 3.5 lbs

Weekend Weigh-in

169 is a beautiful number. South Beach is good as its word regarding targetting belly fat. Even losing a few pounds is making a difference to my waist size. I got a big hug and kiss from the DH for my achievement -- he makes it clear he is very proud of me, though he never wants me to feel unattractive. He's a pretty good guy all round...

South Beach update

For me 170 pounds has been as daunting as the Berlin Wall, but today the wall has fallen! I stepped on the scale this morning to see 169 pounds (in my jammies) for the first time in 19 months. I put on 6 pounds over Christmas of 2004 and have been carrying them around ever since. I was 160 lbs in May of 2004. It would be nice to be able to squeal with joy upon seeing 160 again -- even better if I can do it by the end of August.

In Pursuit of Rolling Stones Tickets

I think it's one of the signs of Armageddon. The Rolling Stones are doing two concerts in Regina in October. I reckon we only have so many more chances to see them if Keith Richards keeps falling out of trees, so I am hustling my butt trying to get tickets. I tried a few days ago when the first set went on sale and was a victim of the internet's simultaneity -- thought I'd got a couple, only to find someone's keyboard in Timbuktu was a nanosecond faster. They have put a second show on due to demand here in the Back of Beyond so I have tried again this morning. Time will tell if I have succeeded. I wanted to go with the DH, but he's unwilling to mortgage the house for tickets, so we have decided that I will go with my sister-in-law (who's as keen as me). Fingers and toes crossed!

Update: Got 'em...!

Thunderstorms

I have always loved thunderstorms - the noise, the charged atmosphere, the changing sky. Who has not waited to see yet one more lightning strike somewhere? I wish I could convey to my daughter the "friendly" atmosphere of thunderstorms. We are experiencing one tonight and she says the growling thunder sounds like an angry beast. I've tried the scientific explanation and I've tried telling her why I like them, but I think she will be a slow convert. I couldn't bring myself to trot out that tired old chestnut about "the angels bowling".

Present Friends

Spent a lovely evening visiting with friends who have moved to deepest, darkest Ottawa. So few people we know from out east ever come to the Prairies to visit so this was a special treasure.
Wondered if I would manage to stick to the diet (as prescribed by South Beach) while out to dinner, but I did. Eschewed wine (only for two weeks!) in favour of San Pellegrina water (which I like) and with sadness gave up the garlic mashed potatoes in favour of a few more grilled vegetables (which were lovely anyway). No dessert, but that wasn't a problem for me, not having an omnipresent sweet tooth. So -- YAY! Victory is mine. For today.