Operation comfort food

They say stress is the best diet-plan ever. I’ve been trying to lose weight [mostly by using the power of very positively thinking ‘I want to lose weight’] for a year now. I cut down my sugar intake and meal portions, but the pounds just kept piling!

And then this week, by sheer stress and willpower, [and mostly through crying], I have lost 3kg! Yay!! If I can somehow replicate this [without the stress and tears of course] for the next three weeks, I will be down to my ideal weight…

So anyway, I was hanging out with Murphy today. See, I had this project that I’ve been postponing forever, and so I finally decided I would not sleep until I finished it last night. As a result, I did not sleep last night; not until 4.30 a.m.

[I was done with work at 1, but I had to do the dishes and cook lunch. Yes, lunch.]

At about 4.45, my little princess had a nightmare and woke up screaming. We had to do some nightmare therapy, which mainly consists of cuddling, praying, and talking about shiny things and butterflies. By the time the school alarm rang at 5, she was just dozing off and would not be woken again.

When I finally got her into the shower, well, let’s just say we are two very cranky divas when you mess with our sleep! So it didn’t help when the water ran out. Le sigh. At least it didn’t run cold.

Princess was so furious that she boycotted breakfast in protest and would not wave goodbye as the bus drove away. Double sigh.

I got back inside and probably cried myself to sleep [stress, angry babies and lack of snooze has a very bad effect on me]. Next thing I know it’s 12.00 noon and my cellphone is ringing with some semi-good news. The call surprised me because it came from someone who’s usually aloof and very distant. But apparently he was worried about me, and had called to see if I was okay. The quote is right: just because somebody doesn’t love you the way you want to be loved, doesn’t mean they don’t love you with all they’ve got.

We all show love in different ways, so just because someone doesn’t express themselves the same way you do, doesn’t mean they don’t care. They may not do the stuff I expect them to do, but if I can learn their language, I would probably realise they adored me all along. Just because he got me a kilo of Omo on my birthday instead of a bar of chocolate doesn’t mean he doesn’t care for me 🙂

Anyway, after the call, I rationed some water to do school-uniform-laundry since a bath was out of the question, then I made a few calls to see if I could somehow resolve my problem. No luck. So I had some breakfast [at 2 p.m] and sought more comfort food – cereal.

Now technically, I shouldn’t eat cereal, because of my milk allergy. But something about ice cold [or sometimes almost hot] weetabix just makes my heart dance.

I remembered one Darius Stone suggesting I try it with yoghurt [?!?], but I didn’t have any, so I settled for the next best thing – mala.

[It is so cool that I don’t call it mtindi anymore! Viva la 254!!]

I got out my favourite bowl, poured in some mala and two tabs of weetabix. I watched it bubble for a while as the stuff sunk into the milk, then I figured I’d let it sit for a while so it could soak.

After ten minutes, nothing had happened, so I smashed it with my spoon for better absorption. Princess came in at about that time and nibbled on it a bit. I figured she’d finish it, so I shooed her off to the fridge to find her own snack.

We got distracted talking about school and homework and Austin, and the fact that it was flooding outside. By the time I got back to my cereal, it was, well, sludge. The tablets were soaked alright … but … the viscous mass was not so good to see. Plus, it had a watch in it.

Yes, I somehow managed to dunk my watch in cereal.

It was very hard trying not to spew a few choice words at myself, especially when Princess said ‘If I were you, I’d be more careful where I put my watch.’

This is a new watch, the first new watch I’ve had in years. It’s got sparkles and a big love heart, and I am tolerably fond of it. So yes, I was making little baby noises as I delicately tried to get the sludge off the watch without getting any water into the watch…

Once that was done, there still the matter of cereal. *Groan* I’d brought it this far, the least I could do was try it. I shut my eyes and put a little taste in my mouth…

Then I looked round to see if Princess was looking, and promptly dumped the stuff on the bin.

Since Princess is pretty curious, I had to completely hide the evidence. That means pour it in the trash-bag.

In my neighbourhood, trash-days are Thursday and Monday, and I’d forgotten to take mine out today. Crud. But that meant the trash-bag should still be outside the back door, right?

Let me explain. Most of the neighbours keep trash in the house, or some other place out of sight. I don’t like mine indoors, so I keep it in the back porch … eh … veranda. The veranda also houses the pump that’s used to load water, so once a day, the building caretaker comes into my porch to turn on the water. He has a little red gate with a lock that he uses so that he doesn’t have to get into my house.

Now, a few days ago, I found a hole in my trash-bag. I figured we either have an uber-friendly cat … or a really big rat. But today, as I was going about th business of hiding cereal evidence in said trash-bag … well … there was no trash-bag!

Now I know I didn’t move the bag … but why would someone want to kidnap my trash? Le grande sigh.

I’m off to watch Block D and find some real comfort food, preferably one that’s low in lactose. I’m thinking fries and two sausages…

Alanis Morissette Ironic

Strangelings

At some point in the recent past, I embraced change. I realised that I was shifting – both subtly and not so subtly – and figured my life would be way easier if I simply accepted the morph rather than fighting it. Yeah, still working on that…

♫♫♫♫♫

I’ve been thinking a lot of random thoughts lately, and writing a lot of random posts. I’m not entirely sure what’s causing that. I think it’s that I am – on some level – more relaxed now that I’m home, so my mind is free to wander in areas that are less than serious. I’ve actually made it my default category. Fun!

♫♫♫♫♫

I’m a firm believer in signs. My latest sign is a red plastic Olivetti Valentine Typewriter. I don’t suppose anyone has an affordable, functional one lying around anywhere, do they? According to my google search, they’re ‘light as a feather’ and absolutely gorgeous. Red too. I don’t know how well they work though – I need one that can do a lot more than just sit pretty.

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I’m the kind of girl that has more male than female friends. I like to think it’s because I’m not a girly-girl, but as my cousin pointed out,  I claim to dislike flowery things yet everything I bought for my new flat [from square plates to duvets] has flowers. Mild ‘mannish’ flowers, yes, but still flowers.

Truth is, I mostly find girls a little scary. I have no idea why. Lately though, I’ve [re]made friends with some females that are less … spooky. They’re actually a lot of fun. So I guess ‘they’ are right, it really is all about finding the right girl.

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I’m straight. What.

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The thing about having mostly male friends is that, well, the women in their lives sometimes have, you know, issues. I’m still finding a way to deal with that. I’m also desperately hoping that the tables will not turn. I dread the day when I will be the one that has issues with my Sailor Boy’s female friends.

I’d like to think that being a career pal to dudes with quasi-jealous girlfriends, I will be more reasonable. But being a more-than-quasi-jealous-type girl myself, I will be content to seethe in almost-silence and keep my claws well sheathed *cheeky grin*

♫♫♫♫♫

It’s equally interesting to me that while I have many ‘platonic’ friendships with my buddies,  it is still somewhat strange to think of it in others. I hear my brothers and cousins talking about their ‘just buddies’ and I’m like ‘yeah, right’. Pot calling the kettle black?

Though, technically speaking, my water pot is red…

♫♫♫♫♫

Homework calls.

Breathe (2 a.m.)Anna Nalick

Lessons from my love

It’s been an interesting weekend. I’ve had some highs and lots of lows, and I’ve found something I thought I’d lost.

They say many people don’t know what love is. I’m not sure that I do either. But I know it feels beautiful to love, and to be loved.

I have been told, again, not to take myself so seriously. Indeed, not to take anything so seriously, and for some reason, the telling has made me feel very liberated.

I realise that I can’t control my child, I have to just let her be. But I also see that I should not be angry when she tries to control me.

I realise that I can’t run everything – actually, I can’t rule anything except my reactions, thoughts and feelings, which, ironically, is the one thing I felt I had no say in.

I have learnt, finally, that just because I’m INFJ/Mel-choleric/Type 4 doesn’t mean I have to be so goth all the time. I can still be insightful and deep without looking like my face was etched in a frown. I can criticise and analyse without drowning in the dark side. It’s not going to be easy, but nothing worthy ever is. And after all, Yoda is so much cuter that Darth Vader.

I accept that when someone offers me favours because of my looks, I don’t have to accept, but I also don’t have to be mad about it. Because in their own warped way, they were giving a compliment.

I cede that people have a right to like me or not to like me, and I have no business asking them how or why. Each to his own, different strokes, and even silver spoons **cheeky grin**

In the arms of my love, as he held me while I cried, I have found peace. And he showed me, as he often does, that the peace wasn’t in him but in me. All he did was find it, tease it, and call it out.

My dearest, darling love, it’s a joy to love you, and an honour to be loved by you. Amen.

Ben JelenCome on

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