Monday, December 5, 2011

When will I remember the library is closed on Monday?  After so many years of working every Monday, I’m seldom of a mind that I’m out and about every other one nowdays.  

Awoke today feeling my Masto and my weight.  Last night’s carry-out carbfest did nothing to help the matter, nor, in fairness, did the stress at work.  The day after a challenging day, or more than one 12 hr shift, is typically an achy, stuffy, painful recovery period.  Still, one would think, that by my age I would fully comprehend that weight slowly comes off and the body takes a while to realize it doesn’t hurt as much, while putting back on said weight seemingly happens overnight and the pain shoots up the scale quickly.  After a month of eating almost freely, I’m not only back to almost my original weight, I’m also back to almost my highest level of medications for both Diabetes and Masto and I’m again experiencing frequent and severe back and hip pain as my belly pulls everything out of alignment and my poor muscle tone does nothing in the way of correction or resistance.  

I felt so much better on the low carb eating plan.  (“DIET” is one of the few four letter words I’m loath to utter.)  My body is much happier, my need for Diabetes meds almost nil, my need for Masto meds reduced due to the lower stresses on my body and system, my knees, back and hips’ shouted complaints reduced to mutterings, my Masto brain fog noticeably slower to overwhelm me, yet I still crave carbs.  What the hell is my problem?

Just took a pic of myself.  Oh, yeah.  Kittah isn’t feeling well.  Swollen face, pallor, rash...yuck.

I’m listening to Christopher Moore’s “The Stupidest Angel” on CD.  Recorded books are a much better choice for me than listening to news, commentary, or even most music during my commute.  I can unwind a bit, rather than becoming annoyed anew by the state of the country, the world, the universe...  I enjoy Moore’s imaginative writing, though I admit I often find his books tough going.  Not sure why, but I adore his work when spoken.  I’m particularly enjoying this one and the bizarre and all-too-familiar caste of loonies, all of whom could be found at just about any gathering in this state.  

Seems timely; seasonal.

I seldom patronize the coffee shop I’m now in, not because of it’s ambience.  I love the warm colors, Alaskana/coffee/doggie decor, the friendly people.  I dislike the hard, unpadded benches.  Even with my natural padding, they are as comfortable as rocks.  

One thing I find a little unnerving:  there are figureheads at the top of posts separating the booths which are, presumably, to resemble dogs, the place being named after one and little sponged doggie paw prints sharing space with painted coffee beans all over the walls.  The carvings are more than a little anthropomorphic, with long, human legs and arms.  The heads have snouts and long ears and beady black eyes.  Well executed.  Attractive.  Oddly unnerving.  They more resemble anthropomorphic bats, or even armadillos, staring down at coffee drinkers than the companionable canines they are meant to represent.  

Mid-afternoon, after lunch and coffee, and the fog is beginning to lift.  I intentionally slept late, and read for quite awhile before getting out of bed, in the hope that would enhance recovery, but it appears I must take the allotted time, no matter what.  Like recovering from a hangover.  Coffee might enhance alertness.  A shower, cleanliness.  Food alleviates the munchies & brings up the crashed blood sugar.  But the fact remains that a certain amount of time must elapse for the alcohol to leave the system or, in my case, for the badly behaved mast cells and their dumped load of histamine to be reabsorbed.

These 12 hr shifts leave me in an almost perpetual state of “recovery” on my days off, particularly the 3 day stretch I have every other week.  The schedule in itself doesn’t look all that hard, but it has the effect of keeping my mast cells in an uproar.  But then, most every thing does keep them in an uproar these days.