Drunk and Stoned. Yeah!

I hooked up the control to the speakers in the burgundy room wrong. Now I have sound bleed in the family room.

I had the same panic that I had before Thanksgiving. This time there was no basis. It may just be weed that makes me feel paranoid.

Today’s top stories are:

Mommy in the front yard

Taras is he gay?

Weight or wait?

My non-invincibility


Measures of accountability

Sex thoughts. Am I an erotica writer?


Time Has Passed

I have a story written, I had decided to post here, explaining all that has happened since the last time I posted, but I’ll save it for later.

Too much wine, too much food and the question as to why are settling in my mind. I sit here, with too much light pollution and a very cold breeze ruining an otherwise delightful evening on the Amalfi coast.

My stomach is not complaining, yet, but the wine has taken over my brain. Loneliness. Profound and utter loneliness. Forget about the location, forget about the scenery and exotic foods. The overwhelming feeling is one of being utterly and totally alone.

The sights, sounds and experiences go unshared. The hopes and dreams for the future are mine alone to contemplate. Ravioli, the freshest shrimp I’ve ever tasted and the overwhelming sensation of isolation.

More to share later, but for now, the cheque, the walk to the hostel, or ‘ostello’ and the recognition that travel, wine and food do not fill the hole left by the lack of a companion.


Request Answered

Once again, I put a desire out to the universe and I got an almost immediate answer. If I could bottle and sell this stuff, I’d be rich. A friend just invited me to a BBQ. He took the time to talk about how the beef was aged, how they will prepare it and season it. The Bordeaux they will be serving, the dessert and who is invited.

He invited me up this weekend, less than a week since I was lamenting my lack of good beef to BBQ. Thank-You.



One of my neighbours has had the audacity to sear a steak on a BBQ near by. They are flagrantly showing off. It seems a little much. I wonder if I went over with a couple bottles of nice wine, if I could get a taste? Now that, would be off-script.IMG_6209

The male appetite. It allowed a huge variety of food to be in the house because it would all get eaten. I’ve learned to cook and freeze, so I can still eat great meals, but I haven’t been able to replace the beef.

When you are buying half a carcass, you can have absolute control over how it is treated. The “good” butcher shops have all made that synonymous with organic and humane practices, as defined by them.

Don’t even get me started on grocery stores. So, I have not been able to find good steaks. The Presidents choice filet mignon with bacon come close. I’ll have to get me some of those.


New Gurgle

It may not look fancy, but it is left overs from a turkey dinner. Easy, nutritious, delicious and ready with little effort.

When am I actually hungry? Is a question I’ve been grappling with for weeks. I want to lose weight, so I may believe I have to tip the scales a little too far. I might need to be a little hungry.

Or, quite possibly, that is another holdover from the “think yourself thin” days, but I digress.

Physical symptoms of “needing” were not all hunger based so this marker of hunger was quickly shelved, at least until I could distinguish my other emotions.

So I started with a physical growl. Quantitative. This was softened to a gurgle because I recognized I would be in a full-on panic by the time I ate.

Then I got sick, dieter’s disease, gall stones, and I had to rethink that level. I stuck with it for a while and realized there is a blend. Sometimes I want to eat before the gurgle and sometimes not. Still too much.

So I’ve returned to trying to determine if the need in my body is hunger and I’m better able to recognize hunger signals, because I’ve been forcing myself to sit in hunger and await the gurgle.

I learned the difference between hunger and other needs and I also realized I’m more energized to exercise when I eat under less stringent standards. I now know when it is other discomfort. Just past thirty pounds since I got back from Spain.



Being able to flawlessly add swimming to my total number of points towards exercise, has put me on a 24 day streak. My sweet spot for exercise is when I feel energized. I don’t want to be tired afterwards. I want to feel good and engaged.


That “glob” is to show me the top. It is a watch and it is important to me to know where the 12 would be when I switch the tracker between holders.

I think I have found it. Don’t be alarmed. If you understand epigenetics it recognizes that only some genes get turned on. I swam competitively as a child and so my DNA is programmed to be the most in balance when I’m doing a lot of exercise, way more than most would require.

I need to walk 7000 steps, a little over 4 km everyday. In addition to that, 30 minutes of swimming 5-7 days a week. I can track it all on my new Misfit Shine 2.

I realized last year that a half an hour a day cannot be replaced with swimming for an hour three times a week. It must be spread out. There are other benefits of exercise, not borne out in the totals that are prescribed, but I digress. Daily is better than total minute count.

My weight is coming off. I am still working on my hunger signals, but I have noticed that I feel more like exercising when I allow myself to eat on a less strict regime. My body cries out for exercise like it does for food.

I think I’ll go eat my beef dinner and then have a swim. Sounds luscious.



I found another rule from the, “I’m gonna think myself thin” era. I was eating a cookie, or rather cookie dough. I did take the precaution of using the best recipe, not just, a, recipe in case they made it into the oven. I realized there was a very small part of me that thought this was unacceptable.

Whaaat? What’s that now? It caught me off guard. I had embodied this ideal so deeply into who I was that I almost never indulged in a treat of some sort. Think empty calories, which for some reason still has pull over me.

Empty. I take whatever it is you take, I guess offence, with the use of that word. Some of my favourite foods fit the definition of empty, from the scientific community. The group that brought us agent orange and GMOs, those people, tell me that if a food doesn’t contain an item that they have identified as a benefit, biologically, then the food is empty.

I would argue that treats like ice cream, especially when truly enjoyed for the luxury it is, is not empty at all. It comes very close to an affirmation of life. A life that is so glorious. It is quite valuable to recognize that while you still have the opportunity to enjoy the things like this in life.

Anyhow, I decided to add a treat or dessert into my grocery shopping. First on the list, of course, is strawberries with whip cream. There is a super tart recipe that I took the time to photograph. All I remember is that you melt the chocolat and press the halved strawberries into it. Sounds like it might need whip cream.
Also, I have decided to stay with the stomach growl. I know I blamed it for the digestive problems I’ve been having, but I’m willing to give it a little longer to see if I can’t identify some less sever precursors to my stomach making noise.

In addition to that, I will work on trying to determine when to stop eating. That should be enough for now. Just those three things.