Chocolate Notes
OK, chocolate is good, I admit it. One time I thought it would be a great job being a chocolate tester. “Now let’s see. This # 1 here is a very good chocolate. Number 2 is good too. I like # 3 a lot but it is about as good as 2. Four is excellent but so is 1. Five is especially good and tastes a lot like 3 which was good like 2.”
I didn’t get the job but I did get full.
Have you noticed that even if you stop eating chocolate you don’t lose weight? Lack of chocolate is not a diet, per se. Eating too much will usually make your pants shrink but not eating chocolate is not a diet in itself. This presents some insurmountable problems for many very nice people, among which I am one.
Also there is etiquette to consider. Like which wine would you serve with chocolate truffles? If there is white chocolate would you serve a light wine? Would burgundy go with brownies? Would you have sherry with chocolate cake? If you serve chocolate bourbon balls is that with ice? Chocolate can be quite confusing for the up-to-date host or hostess.
And how about chocolate pudding? If you make that with whole milk and ignored the sugar, is that enough for dinner? What fruit might complement the pudding if it were? Strawberries come to mind frequently when I ponder this problem which I often do.
Now some folks try to substitute things for chocolate. Carob is often sold to trick people. HA, I say. Don’t be fooled. Its nasty at best and if you ARE ignoring the sugar you might as well ignore it in REAL chocolate as some mealy substitute. Another supposed substitute for chocolate is love. Hmmmmmmmmm. Well, its like the first paragraph. They are both good. Are you then unfaithful to your mate if you eat chocolate? Or to chocolate if you have a mate? Is it bigamy in either case?
Well, there is lots to think about with chocolate and I won’t finish it all in one note. There will be more chocolate notes and I thank you for your patience. The next note may be from Hershey, Pennsylvania. I am considering a move.
PS If you eat too much dark chocolate, Fiber Will Make You Free is a handy post to heed. They don't call milk chocolate, baby chocolate, for nothing.
Copyright 2007 by Robin Hall
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Fiber will make you free !!!
Well, I am not a doctor nor have I played one on TV. However I did play doctor with Jeff Warner's sister those many years back. : ^) Anyway, about 18 years ago there were a number of books out on food fiber and I read some of them I had found in Buffalo's wonderful library. I experimented for years, tried many of the prepared ones and finally made my own. Here it is. I drink about 6 oz. after a meal and it works for me. Just thought to share it. Where else but with thefirstdukeofurl's blog is food fiber discussed?
I use filtered water.1 quart of water.4 heaping tbs. rolled oats4 heaping tbs. raw wheat bran 1 cup of raisins and no need to pack them Mix the dry ingredients, add water, bring to a boil, then simmer for 5 minutes. STIR A LOT, or else. Let cool and put it into the fridge. I put mine into the freezer for a while first. Then I drink 6 oz. with about 2 oz. added water after each meal. This is all I have to say about foods other than some chocolate notes, beer notes and ice cream notes later on.
I use filtered water.1 quart of water.4 heaping tbs. rolled oats4 heaping tbs. raw wheat bran 1 cup of raisins and no need to pack them Mix the dry ingredients, add water, bring to a boil, then simmer for 5 minutes. STIR A LOT, or else. Let cool and put it into the fridge. I put mine into the freezer for a while first. Then I drink 6 oz. with about 2 oz. added water after each meal. This is all I have to say about foods other than some chocolate notes, beer notes and ice cream notes later on.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Party Facts
Party Facts
Over the years I have discovered food facts that may not be startling revelations but do take up time reading about which is frequently why we read. Take party foods for instance. At a party one wife and I had peanut butter with powdered milk stirred in. It was meant to increase the bioavailability of the peanut butter and that seemed adequate for any party. We got this ridiculous notion from Diet for a Small Planet. Oh, the notion was ok but the party part was ridiculous. After the party was over we did not find any of the spread had so much as moved an inch. We had to use it ourselves over the next week. It was a long week.
Then there’s corn. While popped corn is quite festive for tree decoration at Christmas, canned corn is not. Don’t ask me why. I like the yellow kernels myself but a tree strung with them won’t attract many oohs or ahhs. Turn now to caviar. If you have fancy friends and serve caviar it frequently disappears quickly. Some of these caviers are very expensive. If you had popcorn with butter and grated parmesan along with garlic and onion powder next to the caviar, its my guess most folks would prefer the popcorn but be embarrassed to eat it. Caviar is better. Ha! Good tasting caviar is an oxymoron in any language so save your money and serve popcorn.
Now tuna. Ketchup and tuna are not tasty together. So far I the only thing I have found that disguises the taste of canned tuna adequately is Green Tobassco Sauce. Add some olive oil and extra onion powder and you can pretend its something else. Chicken maybe. Green tuna is a party no-no.
How about turnips? What are these for? Cricket? I would guess a party with turnips may not be as festive as you wanted it to be. And which wine would you serve? Ripple might disguise it some. Keep in mind turnips will return to haunt you.
Speaking of haunting, how many of you have experienced the power of methyl mercaptin in asparagus? The bathroom tells the tale here. I am sorry to have to bring this up actually.
This is just a short note today. I will let you know about other party no-nos later. For instance, I was in Russia recently and the music was all Russian. I was not surprised. The vodka was Russian too and after some of that, Russian beer and champagne [sic] the music sounded fine. The chicken was somewhat tough but it was good exercise for your teeth which is something to keep in mind for your guests. They need some challenges. Keep them guessing for a few items. Have good music, keep the spirits high by leaving out peanut butter and powdered milk and be there early if you are the host. No one likes to be kept waiting in the rain.
Copyright 2007 by Robin Hall
Over the years I have discovered food facts that may not be startling revelations but do take up time reading about which is frequently why we read. Take party foods for instance. At a party one wife and I had peanut butter with powdered milk stirred in. It was meant to increase the bioavailability of the peanut butter and that seemed adequate for any party. We got this ridiculous notion from Diet for a Small Planet. Oh, the notion was ok but the party part was ridiculous. After the party was over we did not find any of the spread had so much as moved an inch. We had to use it ourselves over the next week. It was a long week.
Then there’s corn. While popped corn is quite festive for tree decoration at Christmas, canned corn is not. Don’t ask me why. I like the yellow kernels myself but a tree strung with them won’t attract many oohs or ahhs. Turn now to caviar. If you have fancy friends and serve caviar it frequently disappears quickly. Some of these caviers are very expensive. If you had popcorn with butter and grated parmesan along with garlic and onion powder next to the caviar, its my guess most folks would prefer the popcorn but be embarrassed to eat it. Caviar is better. Ha! Good tasting caviar is an oxymoron in any language so save your money and serve popcorn.
Now tuna. Ketchup and tuna are not tasty together. So far I the only thing I have found that disguises the taste of canned tuna adequately is Green Tobassco Sauce. Add some olive oil and extra onion powder and you can pretend its something else. Chicken maybe. Green tuna is a party no-no.
How about turnips? What are these for? Cricket? I would guess a party with turnips may not be as festive as you wanted it to be. And which wine would you serve? Ripple might disguise it some. Keep in mind turnips will return to haunt you.
Speaking of haunting, how many of you have experienced the power of methyl mercaptin in asparagus? The bathroom tells the tale here. I am sorry to have to bring this up actually.
This is just a short note today. I will let you know about other party no-nos later. For instance, I was in Russia recently and the music was all Russian. I was not surprised. The vodka was Russian too and after some of that, Russian beer and champagne [sic] the music sounded fine. The chicken was somewhat tough but it was good exercise for your teeth which is something to keep in mind for your guests. They need some challenges. Keep them guessing for a few items. Have good music, keep the spirits high by leaving out peanut butter and powdered milk and be there early if you are the host. No one likes to be kept waiting in the rain.
Copyright 2007 by Robin Hall
Shoot the Rude
Shoot the Rude, a brief rant
One day I was reading a note about a new TV show called something like Weakest Link. The moderator was supposed to be quite rude, but well read.
I forgot about it till just now because I would definitely NOT watch such a show in the first place. Then it hit me. Perhaps we should modify our legal system to include shooting rude people. If Rude Shooting was legal, of course the moderator of the Weakest Link, allegedly the world's rudest hostess, would be undone after she said "Goodbye." to her first loser after the law passed.
My fervent belief is that there are about 50% too many people right now for the planet to support decently and this insane overcrowding causes stress for most. Stress leads to rudeness in many and the new law, Shoot the Rude, would indeed offer a way to reduce the population quickly and efficiently now that major plagues are less effective and the weather service actually tells us when there is going to be a hurricane. What's next, predicting earthquakes? Forcasting wars? The earth could not tolerate the weight of new people that would cause!!
Anyway, shooting the rude could be fun, relieve stress on the rest of us and tame the glut of inhabitants else why is there road rage where shooting of the rude is already in progress but not yet legally sanctioned?
There are just a few problems to iron out like what happens to YOU if you shoot a rude person and miss? Or what if you hit someone else who was not rude? There would have to be lots of discussions on the many fine legal points this new law would entail but I am sure, in a calm enough setting, all will turn out for the best. Maybe rude shooters would have to have a license or take classes.
Oh pooh. Another problem popped into mind. I am not sure we humans are that far removed from the primordial slime to be good and honest judges of rudeness. For instance, what if two people were up for a promotion and one shot the other for rudeness? Would this not incite some to cry out "Fowl!!" or "Foul!!" ? Would this crying out then be considered rude? Would there have to be a rude court? Hmm. No, the rude would be shot so justice would not work for them.
Rats !! I suppose I am not really on to a great new law after all and those folks who are mad will have to calm themselves. Road rage is real though. There are many rude people. Shall we vote? All for a new law, Shoot the Rude, raise your hands. [ Mine are raised. ] BTW, why not vote to eliminate daylight savings time while we are voting? Raise your hands again. [ Mine are. ] OK, that was democracy in action and we shall come back to it with other grievances later.
Copyright 2007 by Robin Hall
One day I was reading a note about a new TV show called something like Weakest Link. The moderator was supposed to be quite rude, but well read.
I forgot about it till just now because I would definitely NOT watch such a show in the first place. Then it hit me. Perhaps we should modify our legal system to include shooting rude people. If Rude Shooting was legal, of course the moderator of the Weakest Link, allegedly the world's rudest hostess, would be undone after she said "Goodbye." to her first loser after the law passed.
My fervent belief is that there are about 50% too many people right now for the planet to support decently and this insane overcrowding causes stress for most. Stress leads to rudeness in many and the new law, Shoot the Rude, would indeed offer a way to reduce the population quickly and efficiently now that major plagues are less effective and the weather service actually tells us when there is going to be a hurricane. What's next, predicting earthquakes? Forcasting wars? The earth could not tolerate the weight of new people that would cause!!
Anyway, shooting the rude could be fun, relieve stress on the rest of us and tame the glut of inhabitants else why is there road rage where shooting of the rude is already in progress but not yet legally sanctioned?
There are just a few problems to iron out like what happens to YOU if you shoot a rude person and miss? Or what if you hit someone else who was not rude? There would have to be lots of discussions on the many fine legal points this new law would entail but I am sure, in a calm enough setting, all will turn out for the best. Maybe rude shooters would have to have a license or take classes.
Oh pooh. Another problem popped into mind. I am not sure we humans are that far removed from the primordial slime to be good and honest judges of rudeness. For instance, what if two people were up for a promotion and one shot the other for rudeness? Would this not incite some to cry out "Fowl!!" or "Foul!!" ? Would this crying out then be considered rude? Would there have to be a rude court? Hmm. No, the rude would be shot so justice would not work for them.
Rats !! I suppose I am not really on to a great new law after all and those folks who are mad will have to calm themselves. Road rage is real though. There are many rude people. Shall we vote? All for a new law, Shoot the Rude, raise your hands. [ Mine are raised. ] BTW, why not vote to eliminate daylight savings time while we are voting? Raise your hands again. [ Mine are. ] OK, that was democracy in action and we shall come back to it with other grievances later.
Copyright 2007 by Robin Hall
Monday, February 26, 2007
Poof
Poof
When you wish, say my name,
Poof it is, magic's the game.
Just say Poof, then look around,
Beauty is there from sky to ground.
You can see all the beauty there is to see,
Just say Poof, for beauty, that's me.
Beauty is magic. There are other kinds.
Each has its own words, some have signs.
Someone else will tell you of wonders galore.
Be nice to your friends and you will see more.
Copyright 2007 by Robin Hall
When you wish, say my name,
Poof it is, magic's the game.
Just say Poof, then look around,
Beauty is there from sky to ground.
You can see all the beauty there is to see,
Just say Poof, for beauty, that's me.
Beauty is magic. There are other kinds.
Each has its own words, some have signs.
Someone else will tell you of wonders galore.
Be nice to your friends and you will see more.
Copyright 2007 by Robin Hall
Arts and Crafts
Arts and Crafts
Hi, Poof's my name, magic is my game and the score is one to one. What? You thought magic was bad ONLY or good ONLY? No, magic is simply magic. The intent or wish of the magician makes it good or bad you see. I know, its pretty complicated. Let me explain a bit, just a bit though, can't give away too many secrets can we?
Where to begin? The beginning? How about a long, long time ago? How about 1744? Just kidding. Magic has been around forever which is a long, long time. Most people can even see some magic. Take beauty, please. Beauty IS a kind of magic. It makes us feel alive. Watch a sunrise or sunset sometime and tell me that isn't magic. Look at those tiny purple woolly flowers in the forest and tell me that isn't magic too. Its everywhere. That's the beauty of magic.
Look at a baby person, puppy, kitty, rhinoceros or elephant. They are all beautiful and new. The world is waiting for them to make their own way. Beautiful.
Watch a dancer, read good poetry or prose, look at fine paintings and sculpture, all magic, they make us feel alive and we need this beauty. We can see, listen to and feel beauty. Magic, eh?
Perhaps you were thinking of spells, witches, dragons, fairies? They are another part of magic. A real magician or witch trains much longer than the people you call doctors. The training for good or bad is long and hard. Why would anyone train to be evil? I don't know. I think something is missing for them, love. There can be no evil when love is present. Right now the score is about one to one like I said.
If we choose love and beauty, maybe the score will be one to nothing some day. For now, its one to one. Lots of people just miss the beauty and never had the love. They look to the dark arts. Lots of people see the rainbows and fog and friends and family. They are seeing magic. A few, look deeper into the veil of life and spend their lives learning to make magic. Most of these don't have the proper teacher and waste their time. Every once in a while there is a real teacher who understands love and beauty. Every once in a while there is a teacher who understands pain and suffering. Both have many students.
Who do we choose to guide us? Love and beauty or pain and suffering? This doesn't seem all that hard a choice to me, but it is. There is much suffering. Good people seem to suffer. Why? Is pain a test or some bad magician's spell? Perhaps its just a part of life for many. There are lots of bad people who seem to have a good life. Perhaps this is a test for them too. Live good and learn to be good might be their lesson while the good people who suffer might be learning as well. Both might be tests.
There is a lot to think about here. Maybe we can ponder the essence of life another time when we learn more. For now, look at beauty and behold the magic of it. See love that is offered and that you offer. Magic for all.
Your Friend,
Poof
Copyright 2007 by Robin Hall
Hi, Poof's my name, magic is my game and the score is one to one. What? You thought magic was bad ONLY or good ONLY? No, magic is simply magic. The intent or wish of the magician makes it good or bad you see. I know, its pretty complicated. Let me explain a bit, just a bit though, can't give away too many secrets can we?
Where to begin? The beginning? How about a long, long time ago? How about 1744? Just kidding. Magic has been around forever which is a long, long time. Most people can even see some magic. Take beauty, please. Beauty IS a kind of magic. It makes us feel alive. Watch a sunrise or sunset sometime and tell me that isn't magic. Look at those tiny purple woolly flowers in the forest and tell me that isn't magic too. Its everywhere. That's the beauty of magic.
Look at a baby person, puppy, kitty, rhinoceros or elephant. They are all beautiful and new. The world is waiting for them to make their own way. Beautiful.
Watch a dancer, read good poetry or prose, look at fine paintings and sculpture, all magic, they make us feel alive and we need this beauty. We can see, listen to and feel beauty. Magic, eh?
Perhaps you were thinking of spells, witches, dragons, fairies? They are another part of magic. A real magician or witch trains much longer than the people you call doctors. The training for good or bad is long and hard. Why would anyone train to be evil? I don't know. I think something is missing for them, love. There can be no evil when love is present. Right now the score is about one to one like I said.
If we choose love and beauty, maybe the score will be one to nothing some day. For now, its one to one. Lots of people just miss the beauty and never had the love. They look to the dark arts. Lots of people see the rainbows and fog and friends and family. They are seeing magic. A few, look deeper into the veil of life and spend their lives learning to make magic. Most of these don't have the proper teacher and waste their time. Every once in a while there is a real teacher who understands love and beauty. Every once in a while there is a teacher who understands pain and suffering. Both have many students.
Who do we choose to guide us? Love and beauty or pain and suffering? This doesn't seem all that hard a choice to me, but it is. There is much suffering. Good people seem to suffer. Why? Is pain a test or some bad magician's spell? Perhaps its just a part of life for many. There are lots of bad people who seem to have a good life. Perhaps this is a test for them too. Live good and learn to be good might be their lesson while the good people who suffer might be learning as well. Both might be tests.
There is a lot to think about here. Maybe we can ponder the essence of life another time when we learn more. For now, look at beauty and behold the magic of it. See love that is offered and that you offer. Magic for all.
Your Friend,
Poof
Copyright 2007 by Robin Hall
Day of Grace
Today was my birthday. It went splendidly which is rare for someone with long term depression. Fine weather. My car was fixed very quickly. My external CDrw arrived and actually worked. I got eCards from each of my 4 friends. I smiled more than usual and I wanted to share a piece I wrote the first time this happened. These days ARE rare. They are remembered and cherished.
Day of Grace
A few weeks ago I had a day of grace. For me it was as if the weight of the world, my life, was lifted up. I felt lighter. The day went quickly. I wrote. Everything was more interesting. I sang a song, danced and smiled. There was no sadness or pain, it was a day of grace.
There were no rituals to perform either and I could not MAKE it happen again but I can remember it and next time I will try to accept it as a gift I give myself perhaps or a gift I am given.
I have observed that religious people with all their rituals, some aimed at making more days of grace I am sure, are on the whole no more happy than non-religious ones. They are not more likely to have days of grace than another.
Perhaps we should just not worry too much about them, stop trying to make them happen and they will come more often? Time will tell, as in all things. I will return to this in a later note I am sure.
copyright 2007 by
Robin Hall
Day of Grace
A few weeks ago I had a day of grace. For me it was as if the weight of the world, my life, was lifted up. I felt lighter. The day went quickly. I wrote. Everything was more interesting. I sang a song, danced and smiled. There was no sadness or pain, it was a day of grace.
There were no rituals to perform either and I could not MAKE it happen again but I can remember it and next time I will try to accept it as a gift I give myself perhaps or a gift I am given.
I have observed that religious people with all their rituals, some aimed at making more days of grace I am sure, are on the whole no more happy than non-religious ones. They are not more likely to have days of grace than another.
Perhaps we should just not worry too much about them, stop trying to make them happen and they will come more often? Time will tell, as in all things. I will return to this in a later note I am sure.
copyright 2007 by
Robin Hall
Walking to Paradise
For several years I lived in Hot Springs, AR. Its about 40,000 folks and is the only town in the country inside a National Forrest. Nothing really stands out. Tourists come to visit beautiful old bathouses. There are a few small festivals.
There are also indigenous folk in the area. First settlers. I have spoken to several. Each told me about what they were told in stories of old, stories of Manataka, Place of Peace.
Groups of peoples would come to the valley in peace to discuss the world and share their lives. No fighting, no counting coup. There were tales of the coups of course.
The great circle around the valley, the mentioning of other gathering places of First Peoples. This piece is about coming to Paradise before bathhouses and jazz concerts.
There are also indigenous folk in the area. First settlers. I have spoken to several. Each told me about what they were told in stories of old, stories of Manataka, Place of Peace.
Groups of peoples would come to the valley in peace to discuss the world and share their lives. No fighting, no counting coup. There were tales of the coups of course.
The great circle around the valley, the mentioning of other gathering places of First Peoples. This piece is about coming to Paradise before bathhouses and jazz concerts.
Walking to Paradise
From East, North, South, WestThey came, Walking to Paradise.
Men, women, children All came, Walking to Paradise.
From fifty miles, five hundred miles, five thousand milesThey came, Walking to Paradise: Manataka.
Warriors, Elders, Shamans and ChiefsCame walking, Walking to Paradise.
Seeking Manataka, Place of Peace, In the Valley of the VaporsThey all came, Walking to Paradise.
From hundreds of groups, large and smallThey all came, Walking to Paradise: Manataka.
Seeing sights too wondrous to describe,Original people came, Walking to Paradise.
From dozens of miles they could see the signs.No need for hurry, Walking to Paradise.
Happy to journey, glad to arrive.Living their lives, Walking to Paradise: Manataka.
Billowing clouds from ground to the sky,Beautiful on the way, Walking to Paradise.
Rainbows, large, Rainbows small,Closer and closer, Walking to Paradise.
Misty ground, Sacred groundClouds on land, Walking to Paradise: Manataka.
Valley huge, ringed all round,Chiefs in tune, sitting the Great Circle around Paradise.
Middle of Seven. Three to the North.Three to the South. Middle of Paradise: Manataka
Heaven, Fire, Wind, Water, Rainbows, LoveMother Earth’s bounty here in Manataka.
Walk softly now. Speak truth. Dream again.Respect, Respect, Respect Paradise: Manataka may return.
From East, North, South, WestThey came, Walking to Paradise.
Men, women, children All came, Walking to Paradise.
From fifty miles, five hundred miles, five thousand milesThey came, Walking to Paradise: Manataka.
Warriors, Elders, Shamans and ChiefsCame walking, Walking to Paradise.
Seeking Manataka, Place of Peace, In the Valley of the VaporsThey all came, Walking to Paradise.
From hundreds of groups, large and smallThey all came, Walking to Paradise: Manataka.
Seeing sights too wondrous to describe,Original people came, Walking to Paradise.
From dozens of miles they could see the signs.No need for hurry, Walking to Paradise.
Happy to journey, glad to arrive.Living their lives, Walking to Paradise: Manataka.
Billowing clouds from ground to the sky,Beautiful on the way, Walking to Paradise.
Rainbows, large, Rainbows small,Closer and closer, Walking to Paradise.
Misty ground, Sacred groundClouds on land, Walking to Paradise: Manataka.
Valley huge, ringed all round,Chiefs in tune, sitting the Great Circle around Paradise.
Middle of Seven. Three to the North.Three to the South. Middle of Paradise: Manataka
Heaven, Fire, Wind, Water, Rainbows, LoveMother Earth’s bounty here in Manataka.
Walk softly now. Speak truth. Dream again.Respect, Respect, Respect Paradise: Manataka may return.
Copyright 2007 by Robin Hall
This is by Gilbert Williams, one of my favorite artists.
The link will take you to a wonderful site where his works are on dislpay and for sale. http://www.gilbertwilliams.com/ Image by Gilbert WilliamsA dark and lonely place.
Ever had one of these days or think those areound you are always bending over just a bit too far to get a head?
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Taj Mahal
If you go to http://www.webshots.com/ input the query Taj Mahal and look at some of the wonderful photos, you will have the images that led to this piece.
Taj Mahal
In The Garden of Heaven
Floats the most beautiful building:
In sunlight,
In moonlight,
In the dawn,
In the world.
Waiting, for you.
Copyright 2007 by Robin Hall
Danger, Ice Cream Ahead
Don't be fooled, ice cream IS dangerous and eating it with a small spoon, a teeny weeny spoon is NOT protection. How many times have you brought home Rocky Road; Hawaiian Delight; Rum Raisin; Black Raspberry or even worse, Breyer's Vanilla? How many times has it simply remained in its carton waiting for guests? How many times have you had the will to resist that creamy, luscious, sweetness till these "guests" arrived and plundered your heavenly carton of temptation? TWICE? ONCE? NEVER? My guess is NEVER? And so it is with me, Robin Hall, Ice Cream Addict.
Its worse than this. I don't even have guests coming over. There are no others to share the blame for disappearing the ice cream. I tried to blame the neighbors but no, they were locked out. I don't have a dog to blame. I look in the mirror, see the culprit with dabs of gooey whiteness stuck to his chin and hang my head in shame once more.
I can go for years without even buying this silky temptress, ice cream. Years of holding my head up, proud of my will to resist. Sure, there are the daily reminders of a chocolate failing. I don't try to cover that up: Nestle's Crunch; semi-sweet chocolate chips; milk chocolate chips; store brand if I am extra poor, Nestle's or Ghiradelli if I am a bit more flush most any chocolate really. Chocolate is another story, another failing. This is about Ice Cream. Danger, Danger!!!
Years back I knew about the problem. One night I had stopped by a fine local dairy in Dallas that sold Hawaiian Delight, fresh dipped it was, a half gallon it was. I took it to my friend's house, put it in the freezer and sat talking and smoking with three, stronger people. There was a bit of wine, hashish too. I don't remember much really. Later in the evening I got up, went to the freezer and rushed back into the living room, "WHO ATE THE FUCKING ICE CREAM?" I shouted politely. They all pointed at me. Oh, woe, woe, woe. And what happened to my memory?
The problem often CAN be blamed on others, temporarily. A "friend" will mention a sundae; milk shake; or just a cone of some frozen wonder. I wonder myself. I think. I act. ITS STORE TIME! There is that familiar sad rush to the grocers. I try to hit the freezer section last of course, and there they are: pints of "the good stuff", half gallons of middlings, gallon tubs of the store brand for the others who are more out of control than I, poor lost souls.
Today is another day of temptation. I woke up uneasily. There was some store brand vanilla waiting in icy ambush. I sit here at the computer almost quivering and wonder if there is a chapter of ICA, Ice Cream Anonymous anywhere, anywhere in the world and wonder if I can make it to a meeting in time?
I failed.
Its worse than this. I don't even have guests coming over. There are no others to share the blame for disappearing the ice cream. I tried to blame the neighbors but no, they were locked out. I don't have a dog to blame. I look in the mirror, see the culprit with dabs of gooey whiteness stuck to his chin and hang my head in shame once more.
I can go for years without even buying this silky temptress, ice cream. Years of holding my head up, proud of my will to resist. Sure, there are the daily reminders of a chocolate failing. I don't try to cover that up: Nestle's Crunch; semi-sweet chocolate chips; milk chocolate chips; store brand if I am extra poor, Nestle's or Ghiradelli if I am a bit more flush most any chocolate really. Chocolate is another story, another failing. This is about Ice Cream. Danger, Danger!!!
Years back I knew about the problem. One night I had stopped by a fine local dairy in Dallas that sold Hawaiian Delight, fresh dipped it was, a half gallon it was. I took it to my friend's house, put it in the freezer and sat talking and smoking with three, stronger people. There was a bit of wine, hashish too. I don't remember much really. Later in the evening I got up, went to the freezer and rushed back into the living room, "WHO ATE THE FUCKING ICE CREAM?" I shouted politely. They all pointed at me. Oh, woe, woe, woe. And what happened to my memory?
The problem often CAN be blamed on others, temporarily. A "friend" will mention a sundae; milk shake; or just a cone of some frozen wonder. I wonder myself. I think. I act. ITS STORE TIME! There is that familiar sad rush to the grocers. I try to hit the freezer section last of course, and there they are: pints of "the good stuff", half gallons of middlings, gallon tubs of the store brand for the others who are more out of control than I, poor lost souls.
Today is another day of temptation. I woke up uneasily. There was some store brand vanilla waiting in icy ambush. I sit here at the computer almost quivering and wonder if there is a chapter of ICA, Ice Cream Anonymous anywhere, anywhere in the world and wonder if I can make it to a meeting in time?
I failed.
Friends. We are all 62 now.
I am saluting from the left. I have kept in touch with the youngster in the middle all my life and got back in touch with that tall, fashionable chap through the Internet a few years back.
Other friends have come and gone. A few came, most went. Sour grapes? No, life. I am pretty sure we want it to change. It does regardless of what we want.
Now is a good time for really good friends. Maybe its time to search out old friends and find new ones too.
Thief of Joy
An alternate title for this piece could be To Hell and Back. That was used already for an autobiography of a real war hero. But depression is a war also. It is a brainstorm where dueling neurotransmitters wreck havoc with our lives in ways too horrid to consider. It strips us of our dignity and leaves us with cold night sweats for weeks at a time. And it is always there. Always. “Have a nice day. Cheer up. Things will be better,” they say. And we try to cheer up and have a nice day, but things don't get better.
We spend time in hospitals taking their medications, their shocks, their patronizing. We spend all our waking hour's with a killer at our throat. We look in the mirror and the killer is us. He may one day claim his victim.
Then there are the constant assaults to put up with that the doctors usually can’t quite fit in to their textbook ideas about us. Some days there is a palpable coldness that chills us to our bones. Our bed and blankets and clothes don’t quite help. Waiting is all there is.
Other days tender nerve endings make light, sounds and other stimuli unbearable. A kind word cuts deeply. Birdsong sounds like nails on a blackboard. The fine sunlight filtering into our room blinds us so we go deeper into our covers. Waiting is all there is.
The next week a favorite tune becomes our enemy roiling around in our brain for days on end pulling us downward and downward toward the edge. Television becomes the purpetrator of countless jingles that wound. Obsessions abound. Compulsions embarrass. Waiting is all there is.
We are victims of an illness that is so cruel it can kill. And the world rarely knows the penalty it extracts many days just to be able to walk down the street and stay sane.
We don’t even have dreams to escape to. We have nightmares to wrestle with instead that leave us with a sweat soaked bed and tear stained pillow. That wife or husband or family don't have a clue what’s wrong or know what to do. We don't either. We curse God for treating us so. All people seem to shy away. Our best friends quit coming around, calling or writing. The sun never shines in the sunshine state and all is not right with our world. Maybe it never has been or never will be. That gun and that razor blade seem so seductive at times and the large building we pass on the way to the store seems to call out our name and beckons from its heights and wouldn't the fall at least offer surcease of sorrow?
Who stole the fun? Depression is the thief of joy. It steals our heart and soul and if we are not ever watchful, it takes our mind as well and a mind is a terrible thing to lose. We could even tolerate their medication and all those side effects, their electricity, their patronizing if only there were some glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, but the tunnel has many curves, detours and dead ends. Maybe we get lucky and find redemption in Prozac, religion or AA and become a friend of Bill's. Maybe not.
But if it is not too late and somehow you have never given up, then maybe these words from a survivor of the depression wars can assist you in the long, slow, neverending climb out of the black hole back into some light. The journey back is not easy. Some don't want you back. And the work never ends if you do come back from the edge. You can never relax and forget. The edge is slippery and strewn with banana peels. The best you CAN do is never give up and keep trying. That helps. Never give up. You will always have bad days. There is no cure. There is some hope: NEVER GIVE UP.
If you try to return from hell on the slow train there is no welcoming committee and life must in fact begin anew and not where you left off. Your first and still favorite girlfriend and your best male friend aren't waiting at the station. But there are other people to meet. And perhaps some of those old friends will be happy you returned as well. You became different and are not the same person they knew and loved. You were probably pretty scary to them. Give them the benefit of the doubt, be willing to move on.
Then perhaps one day if you are lucky, technology lends you a hand like it did me. By chance you acquire a computer and get online. The internet becomes a real presence in your life. You miss it when you are away from the console. You have something to wake up to. Email from online friends. News of any sort you choose. Music. Endless tutorials. Software to review and share.
The light at the end of the tunnel gets a bit brighter. Days pass more quickly as you learn to work the net. There are search engines to try. Sweepstakes to enter. People to meet. Interactive games to play with others. Time is not so much of a burden. You can still learn, grow, socialize in a new way. Your views can be sent to multitudes of Ezines hungry for input. BlogsRUs. Reality of a different nature begins or returns slowly. Not as you wanted perhaps but life is more bearable again. Writing begins or continues. There is a renewal of hope.
Redemption of sorts in cyberspace.
We spend time in hospitals taking their medications, their shocks, their patronizing. We spend all our waking hour's with a killer at our throat. We look in the mirror and the killer is us. He may one day claim his victim.
Then there are the constant assaults to put up with that the doctors usually can’t quite fit in to their textbook ideas about us. Some days there is a palpable coldness that chills us to our bones. Our bed and blankets and clothes don’t quite help. Waiting is all there is.
Other days tender nerve endings make light, sounds and other stimuli unbearable. A kind word cuts deeply. Birdsong sounds like nails on a blackboard. The fine sunlight filtering into our room blinds us so we go deeper into our covers. Waiting is all there is.
The next week a favorite tune becomes our enemy roiling around in our brain for days on end pulling us downward and downward toward the edge. Television becomes the purpetrator of countless jingles that wound. Obsessions abound. Compulsions embarrass. Waiting is all there is.
We are victims of an illness that is so cruel it can kill. And the world rarely knows the penalty it extracts many days just to be able to walk down the street and stay sane.
We don’t even have dreams to escape to. We have nightmares to wrestle with instead that leave us with a sweat soaked bed and tear stained pillow. That wife or husband or family don't have a clue what’s wrong or know what to do. We don't either. We curse God for treating us so. All people seem to shy away. Our best friends quit coming around, calling or writing. The sun never shines in the sunshine state and all is not right with our world. Maybe it never has been or never will be. That gun and that razor blade seem so seductive at times and the large building we pass on the way to the store seems to call out our name and beckons from its heights and wouldn't the fall at least offer surcease of sorrow?
Who stole the fun? Depression is the thief of joy. It steals our heart and soul and if we are not ever watchful, it takes our mind as well and a mind is a terrible thing to lose. We could even tolerate their medication and all those side effects, their electricity, their patronizing if only there were some glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, but the tunnel has many curves, detours and dead ends. Maybe we get lucky and find redemption in Prozac, religion or AA and become a friend of Bill's. Maybe not.
But if it is not too late and somehow you have never given up, then maybe these words from a survivor of the depression wars can assist you in the long, slow, neverending climb out of the black hole back into some light. The journey back is not easy. Some don't want you back. And the work never ends if you do come back from the edge. You can never relax and forget. The edge is slippery and strewn with banana peels. The best you CAN do is never give up and keep trying. That helps. Never give up. You will always have bad days. There is no cure. There is some hope: NEVER GIVE UP.
If you try to return from hell on the slow train there is no welcoming committee and life must in fact begin anew and not where you left off. Your first and still favorite girlfriend and your best male friend aren't waiting at the station. But there are other people to meet. And perhaps some of those old friends will be happy you returned as well. You became different and are not the same person they knew and loved. You were probably pretty scary to them. Give them the benefit of the doubt, be willing to move on.
Then perhaps one day if you are lucky, technology lends you a hand like it did me. By chance you acquire a computer and get online. The internet becomes a real presence in your life. You miss it when you are away from the console. You have something to wake up to. Email from online friends. News of any sort you choose. Music. Endless tutorials. Software to review and share.
The light at the end of the tunnel gets a bit brighter. Days pass more quickly as you learn to work the net. There are search engines to try. Sweepstakes to enter. People to meet. Interactive games to play with others. Time is not so much of a burden. You can still learn, grow, socialize in a new way. Your views can be sent to multitudes of Ezines hungry for input. BlogsRUs. Reality of a different nature begins or returns slowly. Not as you wanted perhaps but life is more bearable again. Writing begins or continues. There is a renewal of hope.
Redemption of sorts in cyberspace.
Copyright 2007 by Robin Hall
Three Trees
Three Trees
Three Trees in the fog. Clouds come to earth for Us to see up close. To surround us with their Beauty, moisture, presence.
Three Trees in the clouds. Wonderous, yes?
More trees in the backround. Leaves, fog, grass and sky.
Bird song, muffled. Listen closely. Twee...
Three Trees, dark rich colors. Shadowy trees casting a spell. Just a few moments more till the Sun changes the scene. Clouds lift. Brightness. Many trees.
Three Trees forever beguiling your mind’s eye, forever haunting.
Always there for you to remember. Clouds on earth, fog and Three Trees.
© 2007 by Robin Hall
I wonder what I was thinking about?
I particularly like the silhouettes. The photo is decently composed. My diapers are clean. I was at peace.
Things change quickly however. Life was OK until I was 19. The rest is a blur. What shines through is what will be here in my blogs.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
