We had the quarterly birthday party at work today. I have not eaten ice cream in over a month. So I had one of those single serve cups of Blue Bell Dutch Chocolate. And a small cupcake. By the end of the day my legs were swollen and stiff halfway up my calves. And as red as if I were wearing 5" high legwarmers just above my ankles.
Three months from now I will try just the ice cream and see what, if any, reaction I get. I don't like cake enough to choose it over the ice cream.
Lesson learned: the healthy stuff I have been eating for the past month is what I need to continue to eat. I had a far more successful experiment at dinnertime. Stirred a scoop of vanilla protein powder into a cup of fat free Fage yogurt, sweetening it just enough and nearly tripling the protein grams. Then I sliced up several strawberries and stirred them in. Protein, a modicum of good carbs, vitamins, fiber, pleasant mouthfeel, and the satisfaction of having been right about a hunch. I think this is going to become one of my go-to breakfasts.
This has been a good week at work and an increasingly frustrating week at home. I had a painful symptom last week and have nearly finished a course of antibiotics. I have been going to the gym out of sheer bulldog stubbornness. On more than one day I have run out of safe snacks before I ran out of workday or commute home. The piles are getting out of hand again. I am too tired at night to make music. I haven't picked up a pencil in two weeks or more. I am a musician who doesn't music, an artist who doesn't art, a knitter who doesn't knit, and a reader who until last week hadn't read for pleasure in months.
I picked up the Harlot's new book before Knit Night. I am nearly done. I may read the last four (?) essays before bedtime. Or not. It is not quite 9:00. I have two meds to take, and my body is screaming for sleep. I blew off the gym this morning for another hour of sleep. I rescheduled tonight's banjo lesson because it would be a waste of his time and my money. I have had to postpone my massage twice. I burst into tears listening to the march of the day yesterday: Scotland the Brave. And I had some spotting today. As I did last month. The Red Fairy left the building five or six years ago. I don't know what the h-e-double-hockey-sticks is going on, but somebody needs to tell my hormones to straighten up and fly right.
Don't be surprised if I keep the ringer off all weekend and only show up for the Women's Broadcast on Saturday night and church on Sunday.
Mumble mumble rassen frassen.