I did it. I had fruit for breakfast and no bagel.
I wish I could claim extreme virtue but I can't.
I got up late this morning. Why?
BECAUSE MY TOWN WAS HAVING RAIN, THAT'S WHY. AFTER WEEKS OF INFERNO HEAT AND DRY-AS-TINDER CONDITIONS, WE HAVE RAIN.
Excuse me. I got a little excited there...We had a thunderstorm (a REAL thunderstorm, complete with lightening and all sorts of good stuff) in the middle of the night that continued into rain this morning. Nothing heavy - just a nice, soaking rain. We desperately needed it.
My sanity needed it! I was going nutso with too much heat and blazing sun. This is a major respite right now. Major. May. Jure.
So...I lay in bed until almost 7, me and big Fat Cat Horatius, he of the lovely yellow coat, and Mimsey lurked under a chair periodically hollering at me to get self out of bed and FEED HER DOGGONE IT BECAUSE IT'S ALL ABOUT THE MIMSEY. Yes, Mimsey, we get it. It's about you. You are Empress of the Studio Apartment. Yes. We bow before you and ask that you not beat your lowly subjects who delayed your breakfast by 1/2 hour. A breakfast at which you turned up your lovely little black snub nose...
Where was I? Oh yes, I had fruit for breakfast. Black grapes. Very very nice. And lunch today is homemade chocolate halvah - tahini (sesame paste and yes, you can get it at most grocery stores in the "Jewish" section) + honey + cocoa (it of the antioxidents) and I'm lovin' every bite. I needed the protein and the energy. Between the heat and being SICK, I haven't had much energy.
I'll use that as my excuse to have had POPCORN (with REAL butter and Parmesan cheese) last night for dinner.
I know, I know...I said I would make baba and green beans and potato salad and who knows what else but I'm TIRED. And honestly, my mood is a bit low. I'm not sure why - I had a lovely vacation in Baton Rouge. I came home and the cats were just fine. Other than being sick with this crud last week ("Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play?"), life is going nicely. I think it is being sick and getting off my meds while I was sick....
We pause for a Public Service Announcement: if you or someone you love (or hey! someone you don't hate but just barely tolerate) are put on prescription meds for a....oh let's call it a mood disorder...and you miss those meds EVEN ONE DAY, you can go into a MAJOR tailspin. Don't try this at home without adult supervision (or...even WITH adult supervision...)!
And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming....
So I ate popcorn last night. BIG DEAL. Not the end of Western Civilization as we have come to know it. (that I know of...if you know differently, please let me know that my popcorn last night caused the earth to tilt on its axis and created a major shift in thought. Please.)
Meanwhile, Spanish class tonight - always fun! Poodle and I are going to see Harry Potter this weekend. I saw it the weekend it came out (at the IMAX, no less, in 3-D...which made me bat at the "screen" during an ad...yikes, it was a-comin' fer me..)
Speaking of comin' fer me...I have a great story that we will use as Day 28 of 30 Days of Truth:
Tell A Really Great Story That Is Hilariously Funny And Does Not Reflect Too Well On You
Yes, I made that up. I have lost my list and besides, if I remember correctly, Day 30 was "Write yourself a love letter." Sheesh to the NO! That's a little too touchy-feely, wound-licker for this southern girl...
Here is the Really Great Story:
I go to this tiny little Anglican church that I love - St. Jerome's. I have a wonderful priest in Bishop (who is a prince among men) and many, many lovely friends, including Mischa, Poodle, The Pearl, Scott the Lector, Kathy the Alto and Kathy the Cantor. And many, many more...
And then there is Andy the Thurifer ("thurifer" is Anglican for guy who slings the incense).
Andy is not the only Thurifer. We also have John the Thurifer who slings the stuff around like he is trying to fumigate St. Jerome's. Of course, I haven't seen any bugs recently so maybe that's what he was trying to do and it worked....
Andy is a prince among men. I love his socks off. But the first Christmas Eve (Feast of the Nativity, in Anglican) I was at St. Jerome's....well, Andy and the incense are the heart of my Really Great Story.
On the big feast days, we process into the nave (Virginia the Alto calls it "parading" and in her case, I think that's the right word. She's a great parade all by herself, and I love a parade...) wearing our black and white robes (I've met plastic garbage bags that breathe better but that's another story). First comes the Crucifer (I think...I get it mixed up...it's the person with the cross) and then the Thurifer (that's Andy with the thurible - the incense thing). I think. Maybe it's the other way around but it doesn't matter for the purpose of our story.
Then comes the first member of the choir. I was first member of the choir that night. To complicate matters, we had a little reception downstairs in the undercroft (Anglican for church basement) and there was white wine. I drank a big glass.
I am not a drinker. And I had a fairly empty stomach.
Okay, so here we go, down the center aisle. I'm just trying not to weave from the influence of the Big Glass of White Wine.
And Andy decides to bust a move that he had seen somewhere. A great move. Honestly.
He began to spin the flaming hot and smoking thurible in a 360 out to the side, coming back toward...me.
Intellectually, I knew that the hot, smoking thurible would continue to go around in a circle and then Andy would spin it again. It's a very effective look.
Unless you're about 2 1/2 sheets to the wind and the thurible is comin' RIGHT AT YOU (you think.)
All I could think was, "Dang! It's a-comin' fer me!"
It was all I could do not to turn tail, lift up my way-too-long black cassock and run for dear life out of the nave and out the door.
I did, however, keep my composure and manage to sing, one eye on the thurible and thinking, "Andy....so help me...."
I told Bishop this story many months later and HE told me that there was one better that that. Andy was Thurifer at a wedding, did the 360 and the thurible opened up AND A COAL FELL OUT ON THE RUG AND SET IT ON FIRE.
They had to put it out with Holy Water. I wish I had been there.
And the Holy Water has a story too. Every year at the Feast of St. Francis (I call it Dog Sunday), Bishop blesses the pets and sprinkles them with holy water (this last year, his dog Abigail licked him on the nose. 2 years ago, she slipped her leash during the Homily and we had Bishop and the Junior Warden chasing her down the center aisle. Never a dull moment at St. J's.)
A year ago, Jeff the Choirmaster, was carrying new pup Otis and holding big Sadie on a leash. Trying to juggle little Otis, he sort of let Sadie do her own thing.
Next thing we heard was the sound of a noisily slurping bulldog. Yes, Sadie had found the Holy Water and identifying it as a nice container of fresh water, was drinking for all she was worth. Loudly. Very loudly. With vigor.
Bishop put the Holy Water on his lap for the rest of the blessing.
Ah church...definitely where many of my Really Great Stories happen.
And now, a bit more halvah, I think...
See you tomorrow, kiddies!
The totally shame-free, actual-life, real-time blog where I tell all, show all--without nagging or whining (all right--maybe a little whining...)--in my attempt to stop being a fat middle-aged woman who avoids mirrors and clothing stores and start being a woman at home in her body...brought to you by a real woman, the Independent Weltha Herself. I won't give any advice, and I'm not asking for any--just companionship on my journey.
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