Vacuuming the Cat

This is a funny video on You Tube showing a cat being vacuumed.  The cat refuses to move and apparently likes the vacuuming.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQAzDVupJPc is where to find this if the embedding thingy doesn't work...






The cat is a calico.  Of the calicos and tortoise shells in my life, I have found all of them to be opinionated.  I've enjoyed them and there is one tortie in particular that left a hole in my heart when she died.  Netta had rabbit fur.  It was so soft.  If she wanted to be picked up, she would sit on the floor near a doorway, just waiting for one of the humans to pass by.  Once she got picked up, she went limp like a ragdoll [and like I imagine Ragdoll Cats to do].

She also taught Twinkle, my red headed kitty who departed for the rainbow bridge this year, how to catch mice.  Who knew they had to be taught?  Netta caught a mouse, killed it, and brought it to Twinkle.  When he tried to kick it back to her, she hissed.  When he leapt upon it, that was acceptable and so she didn't hiss.  Some time after that, Netta and Twinkle came tearing up the stairs and through the cat door.  Twinkle was making excited baby mews.  Netta deposited a dead mouse at my feet.  [Usually, she hid them.  I guess she was showing Twinkle what was expected of a proper cat].  I traded them a saucer of milk for it.

It has been said that female cats are better than male cats at mousing.  Twinkle turned out to be a excellent mouser.  I miss both cats very much.  That is my favorite memory of the two of them together.

sapphoq hunting up coffee

Dangerous Lunatics

Sunday's sermon was on forgiveness. Toward the end of the service, the minister asked, "How many of you have forgiven your enemies?" About eighty percent of the congregation raised their hands.

The minister then repeated his question. All responded this time,
except one small elderly lady. 

"Mrs. Jones?  Are you not willing to forgive your enemies?"

"I don't have any." She replied, smiling."Mrs. Jones, that is very unusual. How old are you?"

"Ninety-eight." she responded."Mrs. Jones, would you please come down in front and tell us all how a person can live ninety-eight years and not have an enemy in the world?"

The little sweetheart of a lady tottered down the aisle, faced the
congregation, and said: "I outlived the bitches."


     Religion has been the butt of some number of jokes, the bane of many a gathering [along with political opinions], and the source of admittedly sometimes heated discussions between theists and non-theists on Twitter [and in "real" life].  I recently received a mass appeal e-mail from an elderly relative written to the un-churched among us asking us to please allow his god to be our god too.  We were to return the e-mail to him after agreeing to this so that way he could be assured that we would find each other in the same heaven after we are all dead.  How unabashedly cheerful! I thought.  Not.

     Since today is Yom Kippur, the Wall Street Journal has published an article at http://www.marketwatch.com/story/the-financial-cost-of-religious-faith-2013-09-13?siteid=yhoof2 by Charles Passey about the monies that the faithful spend during the course of their attendance at organized religious gathering sites.  And in order to remain in good standing with said places.

     Folks in detoxes and rehabs for addictions treatment are almost immediately confronted with the word "God" usually followed by "as we understand/understood Him" in the form of The Twelve Had Betters of traditional 'self-help' or 'mutual aid' programs.  If those folks continue in out-patient and with attendance at meetings after their stint in a hospital, they are sure to find people suggesting that they use the group as their "Higher Power" for now.  They will also be "reassured" that without such a "Higher Power" in their lives, it will be impossible to achieve sobriety/ remain in recovery/ sober up/ stay clean.

     Believers everywhere grouse about the atheists, Dawkins atheists, new atheists, Those People who are ungodly Satan worshippers.  Non-believers everywhere grouse about believers, theists, fundamentalists, fundies, dangerous fundies.  Some folks firmly believe.  Some sort of believe.  Some don't believe.  And some don't frankly give a damn.  Contrary to popular opinion, one can be both an atheist and an agnostic.  One can also be an adherent to an organized religion yet be more of a deist [think "generalist"] in actual philosophy and practice.  The shouters proclaim that the "other side" is full of dangerous lunatics.

     We are all dangerous lunatics.  Every one of us [in a general way] is a dangerous lunatic.  Regardless of where we fall on the spectrum labeled religion, we humans [in general] have proven ourselves to be argumentative, explosive, impulsive, full of hate, and prejudiced.  We humans [in general] have also proven ourselves to be capable of peace-making, thoughtful, deliberate, loving, and willing to celebrate our differences.  Is it our individual stances on religion that separates us into petty categories?  Or is it something else?

     Perhaps our ancestors' ability to survive in a harsher environment depended partly on the ability to conform, to surrender individualism in favor of the group, to bond together in order to confront dangers both known and unknown.  In learning to use language as a tool of communication, we've also learned to label.  This is good.  That is evil.  This is acceptable but that isn't.  That I am able to mentally masturbate on these things is a definite sign that I have a First World Life with First World Problems.  People who have to struggle to find potable water or shelter or safety don't have the luxury of massaging their brain cells with supposes.  I bitch because the recent spat between two mega-companies has left me without the ability to flick a switch in order to watch a series about a fictional serial killer for several weeks.  Some other folks worry about their next child succumbing to a poverty-induced disease.  I have many pairs of clean white socks in my dresser drawers and other human beings go without the basics.  I find within myself exists a certain apathy that shields me from the harshness of true poverty and deprivation.  It is my apathy that renders me a dangerous lunatic.  Whether or not I am a believer of any sort, I am allowing myself to be lulled into a state of macro-consumer.

     It is neither my religion nor my lack of religion that determines my state of being.  There is first the accident of birth.  The facts of my birth determined that I would be a native to First World Problems, that I would not grow up in a bombed out city, that I would have access to an education and transportation and leisure.  The genetic code entrenched in my DNA determined the ease in which I would move around this First World.  The lack of genetic diseases or lethal birth defects gave me a pretty good shot at an average or better than average First World life expectancy.  The functioning of my brain influences how I exist and how I think about my existence.  My choices determine my health risks, how I deal with my assets and liabilities, my challenges and what I do with my abilities.  Birth.  Genetics.  Neurology.  Experiences. 

     Any choices that I make within the religious arenas are also determined by the timing and the geographical location of my birth, my genetics and neurology, and my experiences.  Were I born within certain timeframes and geographic indices, I might not have been ever presented with the dazzling array of religions to choose from as an adult.  Had I been born with a fatal genetic mutation, I might not have attained the age of majority or the ability to choose from various religions.  Had my brain functioning been sub-par, my experiences certainly would have been different than the ones that I've had to date.  It is birth, genetics, neurology, and experiences that determine what choices I have even in respect to religious practices and beliefs.  My tentative conclusion is this:  Religion is a function of rather than a causative factor in the makings of us who are the dangerous lunatics of the world as we know it.

 sapphoq itching for a coffee

A Stalking That Wasn't

     You know who you are.  You work with my housemate.  You make snide remarks to and about housemate during work, particularly during staff meetings.  Housemate has complained about these things.  Oh well.  

     Then, you had to push the envelope in a big way.  The other day, you didn't appear to notice that I was also there in the public venue when housemate went to say "hello" to you.  You have accused housemate of "stalking" you because we happened to be leaving the public venue at the same time that you were leaving.  Actually, we didn't even see you leaving.  What is your problem?

     All three of us hang out in certain places where the coffee pot is integral to the setting.  I have brain damage.  I am not brain dead.  I am aware of your discomfort with atheism.  I am not comfortable with your "new age" outlook.  So what?  This should not be a big fat hairy deal.  Neither of us have ever attacked your person because of what you believe.  Neither of us have ever called you names.  We are adults.  The places where we hang out are not schoolyards populated by bullies.  We disagree with some things that you say.  You disagree with some things we say.  A disagreement should not be perceived as a threat, period.  

     Your latest public complaint that my housemate was "stalking" you was both spectacular and puzzling.  Calling someone a troll or a big fat meanie fecal-encrusted head or disagreeable is quite different from claiming that someone was "stalking" you.  I know this particular claim of your is false because I was there.  I don't care for this latest drama.  If you really believe that housemate stalked you because we allegedly left at around the same time that you did, I invite you to register a formal complaint with the police.  Go right ahead. 

     Quite frankly, the second that my housemate reports any repercussions from your maniacal twisting of an ordinary event, I will be contacting our attorney.  Meanwhile, just stay away from both of us.  You mess with my housemate, you mess with me.


No Love,
sapphoq itching for a coffee 

 

A Progress Report ... Regarding Food

This is an open letter progress report about some changes in my thinking and actions regarding food:

     I never wanted to write this sort of thing.  I always thought that the rehab exercises in which countless addicts are told to write a goodbye to drugs letter was rather corny.  I think the word "addict"-- like the word "addiction"-- is grossly over-used.  Addiction has a precise meaning yet even the professionals among us often use that word when the word "habituation" would serve better and more accurately.  

     Although I have resorted to some of the language I know best, I draw the line at labeling myself an "overeater" or a "food addict."  Those words do not begin to describe my relationship to food or my behavior adequately.  At times I have restricted my intake, especially when I was "dieting" in TOPS.  The numbers on the scale did not dictate my emotions so much as they dictated what my eating habits looked like for several days before each weigh-in.  At other times, I have eaten more than my share as if a great hunger had taken over my being.  At still other times, I ate too much junk and not enough nutritious food.  And sometimes, I have forgotten to eat.  My eating had range to it.  Sometimes too much.  Sometimes too little.  Sometimes an average amount.  

     Forget the disease concept.  I don't believe that addiction of any sort is a "disease."  The disease concept grew out of a need for insurance companies to foot the bill for all of those expensive treatment centers and rehabs that sprung up in the heyday of booming companies invested in making money from the hoards of people who needed to stop and from some folks who genuinely wanted to stop.  I am not a consistent over-eater.  I am not a food addict.  I don't have yet another politicized blasted disease.  I have some really bad dietary habits which have needed intense correction for some time.  I have a condition.  I've had an unhealthy and immature relationship with food.  I am a Foodie.

     The vast majority of people don't have problems when they drink socially or use socially [and yes, I believe that people can and do use socially] or when they fill a script.  But some people do have problems when they do these things.  If they catch themselves early enough, they are able to moderate or stop their habituation.  Those who don't continue on into genuine addiction.  Of those who are successful at quitting, they learn that they can live successful lives without using alcohol or street drugs and without abusing prescription drugs.  Food isn't exactly like that.  We cannot really do without it.

     Many years before I had heard of TOPS, I had tried O.A.  The people who attended the meetings that I'd gone to were all abstinent from certain foods.  Some eliminated-- or attempted to eliminate-- all sugars.  Some spoke about dumping all carbs.  Others added beef to that list.  Still others, salt.  And so on.  I had a sense that there was something about having a list of forbidden foods was not healthy in and of itself.  I knew that we need some carbs, some protein, a few fats, some dairy in our diets.  I went on my way and never looked back.  My food list at the time included a certain regular brown soda, sugar, chocolate, chinese beef brown broth, ice cream, bread in any form, salt.  That list was to change throughout the years.

     I've come to understand that the problem for me is more complex than any singular or multiple categories of food.  The problem isn't even food itself.  My problem is that I like to eat.  The recent diabetes scare was enough to motivate me to truly change my eating habits.  I was no longer interested in having a list of healthy foods and a list of foods to be avoided or to cut out completely.  I wanted to eliminate or at least mitigate my unhealthy eating-disordered behaviors.  And I've stuck with that.  My focus is not on "I can eat this, but not that."  In continuing to strive to change my relationship with food, I have discovered that it is my habits that need re-vamping.

     I eat breakfast and lunch now daily.  [Skipping dinner is not one of my problems].  I've upped my intake of green vegetables and fruits.  I don't restrict my eating anymore because I know that I will be weighed in a few days.  I endeavor to eat a protein whenever I reach for a carb.  I eat a tablespoon full of cottage cheese most nights before bedtime.  And I continue to exercise regularly, whether I want to or not.  My sweet tooth is very much alive although I have found that fruit satisfies it.  I don't treat myself with a sugary food or more on a daily basis.  

     In changing my eating behaviors, my relationship to food has changed.  I have re-learned that in order to change my thinking, I have to change my behavior.  Some folks report that they can do it the other way around.  I am not able to.  It is action that gives life, not just thoughts.  Here are my "ifs" that I live by:  

          If I could think myself into better circumstances I would      
  have done so long ago.
          If I want something different, I have to do something 
  different.
          If I wait until I "feel well enough" to do something, I'll be 
  waiting the rest of my life.

I don't identify thinking as positive or negative.  I have borrowed a bit of buddhist thought.  I refer to my thinking as right thinking and wrong thinking.  Right thinking can be positive or negative.  Wrong thinking is not practical or logical.  I continue to eliminate any remnants of magical thinking through any means necessary other than magical thinking.

     This isn't really a "goodbye to food" letter.  It is a progress report of sorts.  I made allowances the other day in my food plan to allow for a small treat.  The world did not fall over.  I did not go home and immediately consume hideous amounts of pastries or chocolate.  [The treat was a salted caramel tart with a chocolate shell.  It was delicious!].  I was not bothered by earth-shattering cravings.  I enjoyed my bit of dessert and then my life continued.

     There is something about moderation which calling myself an "over-eater" or a "food addict" would not have allowed for.  Moderation is possible when it comes to food and in fact is to be encouraged [unless a medical professional advises otherwise].  I am not interested in restricting my food intake for several days before the weekly weigh-ins at TOPS or in restricting myself from certain categories of food as is commonly done in the O.A. meetings that I have experienced.  I want the health benefits that are to be had by engaging in mindful eating.

sapphoq itching for a black coffee with no sugar or white stuff in it 

Dietary Changes

 
After a routine urine test, the doctor came back into the examination room.  He frowned at the paper he held in his hand.  "Your urine came back with traces of glucose," he said.  "I want to send you for more bloods."  I took the paper and left.
 
The next morning found me [starving] at the blood drawing station.  Four tubes and one bruise later, I left.  The entire next week found me exclaiming at anyone who would listen, "I lost all of this weight and I might have diabetes anyway!"  I was angry.
 
Never mind that I had abused my physical body for many years via the ingestion of large quantities of sugary snacks, not eating breakfast or lunch consistently, several experiences with yo-yo dieting, and little attention to nutrition.  Even my aborted experience in TOPS and a "successful" maintenance of a 65 pound weight loss for more than a year did not result in consistent healthy eating habits.  And yes, in one year's time, I had gained back 24 pounds of the 65 pounds that I had lost.
 
I made a decision.  The night after my bloods were drawn, I decided to begin to follow a healthy eating plan regardless of whether or not I had diabetes.  And I did.  I have eaten breakfast every day since that night.  I have eaten lunch every day since that night.  I have eaten fruits and vegetables every day since that night.  I have concentrated on healthy snacks instead of garbage snacks. 
 
I went back to the doctor the following week.  I had lost two pounds.  "Your bloods came out normal," he said.  I told him that I had been talking with acquaintances who have diabetes type II and I have found no one that follows their prescribed food plans.  "That's why we have so many bad diabetics here," he told me.  "By 2050, one of every three Americans will have diabetes II."
 
It is now a week later.  I am still following a healthy eating plan.  I think I could get used to this.
 
sapphoq
 
cross-posted to several other places