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Primal Feet First: In Search of Lost Time or Remembrance of Things Past
lol. my husband likes to attack me with tickles. sometimes i like it, sometimes not so much. but i always appreciate his playfulness. i know i gripe about him, but of course venting is never the full picture. he also likes to randomly grab my ass in public; usually surprises me because i always have a million things gong on in my mind.
I like to pinch of slap my wife's rump in public, then maybe give a "oh sorry, thought you were someone else" or something to the effect.
If I just said LOL, I lied. Do or do not. There is no try.
So... I totally dropped the ball of the Part one of "Feet First" portion of the program this weekend...
However, this occurred because the past two days my head has been STOOOOOPID and I have had a nonstop evil mutant migraine monster in residence.
I'm hoping that he's going to vacate the premises soon so that his little brother, my normal everyday headache bearing monster, can come back and clean up the mess the big fella has left in there.
I'm sure there is damage... bits of squishy brain... papers flung about never to be in proper order again, dirty laundry strewn... and I think I spied him sporting about in my favorite fuchsia lace boy shorts too... UGH!
Also, I need a new chair...
I want a RECLINER.
I currently have a big, BIG as in HUGE, leather chair and ottoman.
I think I want a smallish recliner.
Leather is a must... White German Shepherd. LOL
Anyone have a European style recliner... If so, how do you like it?
“You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist.”
And that's why I'm here eating HFLC Primal/Paleo.
we have two pieces of sitting furniture in the living room: a futon and a rocker glider+ottoman. some day we'll have nice, comfy things, and i think that day will come after the youngest is potty capable!
so no experience here. sorry about your migraine, that sucks ass.
My problem with my HUGE leather chair/ottoman (other than it's a bit too broke in, so it's sliding towards broke down ) is that... it's basically one of those chair and a halfs... maybe not quite, but really WIDE!
So I sit, with my feet curled up in the chair, to the left or right... with one elbow up on an arm, and my laptop resting on my knee and the arm of the chair.
When I get tired of sitting left, I shift to the right... and so on.
Sometimes I slide way down caddy-corner, kinda laying with feet on the ottoman, but then head is at a squished angle.
Actually sitting straight up in it is pretty uncomfortable at this point.
If I had the room I'd keep it and put it in a corner for my GSD to use as a puppy bed... he loves to usurp my chair and curl up in it.
This seating position is less than ideal for my back/neck/shoulders.
And I've been seeing a torture specialist, aka massage therapist but I refuse to call her that because 'massage' sounds like a nice relaxing fun thing... what she does is NOT nice, relaxing, or fun.
I had to start seeing the massage therapist because my neurologist is talking about giving me some sub-occipital block injections in my neck as he thinks that muscle issues could be causing part of my headache/migraine problems.
I just HATE those big squishy looking recliners.
And most of the non-squishy looking ones have very traditional styling... too trad for me.
And the few more modern ones I see have very hard seating.
LazyBoy doesn't have the Euros... but Ashley does.
I'll have to go have a sit and see.
Dunno of another showroom with the euro chairs locally... so I'll have to base my judgement just on the ones at Ashley and purchase elsewhere if I want more color/style options or whatever.
Haven't found anything at Lay-Z-Boy that strikes my fancy... either TOO crazy, poofy, squishy looking or too hard and sleek looking.
But there is a shop nearby, so I'll be in there test sitting about 100 chairs.
For me it's NEVER as simple as "Oh, OK... I like that one."
Noooooooo... I have to analyze it, and research it, and just drive myself generally nuts over it!
ooo the second looks comfy. i'm the same way if i'm spending over $100 on something, it has to be a carefully researched decision (with exception of my $40mp3 player, which i shopped around for). i can honestly say i've never been furniture shopping; with the exception of our mattresses, everything else has been second hand, usually gifted to us because someone else bought new furniture. (of course if i was dealing with pain, i'm sure i'd put more emphasis on comfy furniture)
Ahh... but we've been at this for almost 15 years!
The first 5 or so we lived with our combined cruddy single people furniture and some gifted, already used stuff.
And we sometimes buy gently used when that works... like my treadmill.
We are a two income family as well because I'm medically retired, which means I still get paid.
And 100% of medical for all my surgeries, and the SCS appliances and wiring, is covered too.
I grew up poor, worked hard, and even if I won the lottery the value of a dollar is permanently imprinted upon my brain.
New furniture and a fancy house does NOT make the person.
Husband and I actually live in an old house.
And old solid, block, slab foundation, FL ranch... built in 1950.
Not exactly old enough to be classic, just old and solid.
We kept having friends ask us when were were going to sell and trade up during the building boom.
We would love to move to a slightly smaller house on a larger piece of land... but, meh.
I think one day he and I will jump ship and retire to Panama or something so he can fish all day.
i wasn't implying anything at all. someday i'd like to have nice stuff because i like to look at things that are aesthetically pleasing, but we're 5 (and 2 cats) living on 1 income, and some of "us" do impulsive things which devalue our personal property; like carve into things with a pocket knife (5yo), or randomly decide to bring a glass of milk into the living room and dump it on the futon (2 yo). i guess i shouldn't say aesthetically pleasing so much as interesting.
Other things... not related to furniture shopping at all.
I HATE the nutrition forum.
That's right, I hate it. H-A-T-E
Harsh I know, but true.
I go there and read threads like "Just another "tell me why I'm not losing weight" thread"
And there are no answers.
Eat more fat.
Eat more protein.
Eat less... And by less I mean that you obviously are not counting your calories right.
I'm sure there are other trends/answers.
I'm too lazy and disgusted by it all to find and list them.
And yet I keep falling into the trap and READing those threads.
Sometimes I want to add something.
A question about ME maybe
Start my own... "Why my body no lose teh fat" thread
But I don't.
I don't because I've seen that thread a hundred times.
And it always goes right to arguments between the fat, protein, carb, calories, and metabolism factions.
And rarely provides any useful information at all the the OP.
Today I ate about 1200 cal.
I only managed to break 1000 because I added heavy cream to my coffee this morning for a 200 calorie boost.
It took me two hours to get the coffee down.
Probably not a huge deal... I suspect I ate A LOT yesterday.**
It was an eating out day. I felt like I ate lots.
Tonnes and tonnes even.
It was also a hormonal day...
You know how those days work with food right.
Even with my meds those days are all "Hey, FOOD!"
Meds make food... bleh.
I don't want it, I'm not interested in it.
I feel slightly nauseous most of the time.
So... to the advice threads.
No, I cannot "eat more" of any macro.
No, I cannot really eat less.
No I cannot walk for hours.
No I cannot sprint, nor lift heavy things.
Yes, I take vitamins, and iodine, and supplements.
Yes, I know how to weigh a piece of food and count the calories.
Yes, I'm doing the best I freaking can.
Yes, I exercise. It's called a treadmill.
I can do about 10 min at a time before I get dizzy and have to rest these days.
It's safer that me walking away from the house and getting disoriented/confused/weak with no one nearby who understands my condition.
I have an appointment with both my Neuro-Opt and my Neuro at the end of this month for my quarterly eye exam to check for damage, and to reassess my muscle issues re: getting a sub-occipital block.
I would really like to wow them both with some weight loss...
Like... "Wow, look at that. Ten pounds down since last time!" *high fives and grins all around*
Managing to lose 4-5 lbs in 2-3 months isn't going to WOW anybody.
I'm normally very patient.
I'm losing slow.
I'm even in that area of loss where I need to buy a couple new pairs of pants...
But... today... that patience feels old and worn out.
I want some if the effortless melting high-fives and happiness.
I want a magic freaking pill.
** Note- I just checked... I found the nutrition info online... it was only 2000 cal. for the day.
And there I was thinking I had binged properly in accordance with crazy lady-hormone guidelines.
Dear sweet Charlie Waffles is getting dropped at the vet's office between 7 and 7:30 am to have the angry pink ping pong ball of erroneous fleshy stuffs, which is "probably not cancer", removed from his short little leg. While he is there and under the anesthesia he will also have his teeth cleaned, and possibly a tooth extracted.
He will be sent home at approximately 5pm wearing 'the Cone of Shame'.
Poor Charlie Waffles.
Charlie Waffles, aka Charlie Sunshine, aka Charles Barkley for more formality when he is being a bit hard headed, is a MUTT. A middle aged mutt of approximately 6 yrs, who was adopted from the Orange county pound in Orlando about 5 years ago. Other than his looks, which are a bit odd on their own, the strangest thing about Charlie is that I did not actually adopt him for me. I adopted him for my other dog.
Before Charlie the husband and I had two dogs. One was a Rottweiler, Flash*, that we adopted at about 6-8 moths old after he had been abandoned, dumped on the side of the road, or tossed rather... out of a moving truck into a rural area. Our brother in law saw this and took the pup home, but his adult male Lab had other opinions about a new intact male moving into the house. Husband wanted a big manly dog, we got a dog! This was in the spring. Later that fall it was my birthday and I was entertaining the idea of a puppy, a small dog for some lap time.** While visiting my family in TN my step-mother said she knew a lady at work with some Min Schnauzer puppies for sale, so we went to look. It was awful. The darn things had worms so bad their bellies were blown up like balloons and one of them had about half the hair it should have had... I took that one, he is the other of the two. This is the reason I believe that I probably have "sucker" tattooed on my forehead in some sort of ink that only evil people can see. The puppy got patched up slowly, but nothing ever did much to fix his temperament. Because he was the lovely black and brown mix that tiny little Schanuzers so often are, and he had a horrible propensity for biting, he was named Bear, Little Bear... after the cartoon because he is slightly ridiculous.
As it turned out both Flash and Little Bear were the products of the evils of the worst sort of people, back yard breeders. Flash never grew into a fine example of Rottweiler flesh. He remained forever in the 80lb range and had a tiny little peanut head reminiscent of a bitch rather than a dog. We loved him anyway of course, and were grateful that he at least won the genetic toss-up in spades in the brains and personality department. He was without a doubt the smartest and most cleaver Rotti I have ever had the pleasure to meet. Always up to tricks, but never hurting a flea in the process. Little Bear on the other hand has something all too common among Min Schnaus... neurosis! Yes, he is a neurotic dog. Worse, he is a co-dependent dog. We love him all the same, but he can be trying. He is smart, and sweet, and he loves my husband***
After almost 7 years of doggie bliss and hi-jinks in the family it was time for the yearly vet visit. In the month before they were due Flash had been a bit tired, but not off his food, and his nose had been dry and hot once or twice. I kept to the regularly scheduled appointment because I knew that sometimes dogs get bugs and colds, and I didn't think anything of it. When the vet examined Flash that changed. Our boy had lymphoma, everywhere. His throat glands were the last to swell and that's why we hadn't noticed it from regular petting. The doc tested and there was really nothing to be done. It was the aggressive type. We were informed that even if we did chemo he probably wouldn't last a year. We decided to do the best we could for him as long as he seemed happy and not in too much discomfort, and then when he got sick to have him euthanized. It was hard. We found out pretty quickly that we weren't going to have long as he went off his food and I had to start cooking for him to convince him to eat.
During this time of sickness we also discovered the depth of Little Bear's co-dependent neurotic issues. We started separating them so that we could walk Flash on his own slowly and quietly. And Bear proceeded to work himself into shaking, vomiting and loose bowel, fits no matter what we did. Separation was going to be the end of the world for Bear once Flash didn't come home at all. So the husband and I talked. And I made a list. A list of traits for a dog that would fit with Little Bear's personality, but also not annoy poor sick Flash. And then I had to search, and look at online dog profiles, and visit pounds that didn't have the dog I needed for the purpose that I needed but had 100 others that I had to walk away from and leave behind.****
But, eventually... there he was. Our Charlie. Almost 3 feet long, maybe a foot and a half tall, long tail that likes to curl over his back, shaggy reddish blond coarse terrier hair, young but not a puppy, very attentive and human focused, slightly submissive, and HAPPY to see me. Just another mutt someone had dumped. Even my softie of son was skeptical of the odd looking choice I had made. And when I brought him home my husband said "He looks ridiculous. Maybe he'd be alright if he had some legs." And I responded with "No, he's perfect."
And he was. He introduced himself to sick Flash but stayed away mostly and did not bother him because sick Flash was not fun Flash. And he badgered Little Bear just enough to distract him and begin a bond so that when we had to take Flash to be put to rest a few weeks later there was some slight pacing, and some moping and looking here and there for a while. Good friend Charlie was always on standby to be friendly and patient with him and encourage him to relax and not fuss, and maybe play a bit too. Today Little Bear and Charlie Waffles are still best of friends. Little Bear is 11 now, 12 come September.
Charlie has been perfect since he came home with me. He filled his role as new co-dependent fixation like a champ but is not co-dependent and neurotic himself, house trained in no time, learns commands at the speed of light, and just generally plays the part of Superdog in our house. Plus he likes MY lap, although at 35 lbs he's not quite the 'lapdog' I had envisioned.
But now Charlie has also let me down just a little.
Of course it's not his fault, it's mine. I believed in the power of MUTT. That Charlie would be healthier than Flash, and less neurotic than Bear, and just more durable because of the mutt factor. That whole hybrid vigor thing people like to talk about sometimes. I love his mutt-ness. It makes me smile and no one will ever convince me that his funny looks are anything other than sublime. Even husband no longer fusses about his looks, his personality makes up for it. But he is only 6, and he has a funny eye that the vets worry about that has just always been that way, and he has a tumor on his leg, and he needs a tooth extracted even though he has a nice length to his muzzle and shouldn't be prone to bad teeth so early. And it makes me worry.
So at 4am I was giving Charlie Waffles a bath so that he would be nice and clean for surgery. I was Enjoying his excellent company, and the enthusiasm with which he approaches the drying off process. I was getting kisses and hoping that either the vet is wrong and Charlie is NOT a middle age dog, that maybe he will be middle aged next year or the year after, or that she is right and that he is middle aged, and then I at least get 6 more years...not Less. Because he really is aka Charlie Sunshine for a reason.
My fingers are crossed for an uneventful surgery today, and a clean pathology report from the lab later.
*Flash was named after Roscoe P. Coletrain's beloved Basset Hound on Dukes of Hazzard. No, it doesn't make any sense at all.
** Big giant dogs like laps... Dear son played this game with the big dog, not I. Dear Son and Flash were best buds.
***Note: He is a lap dog, he just doesn't like MY lap! Lil' turd.
****Hardest thing ever! Don't ever send this girl into a pound unless you want her to come out with a dog in need of a home.
Great story, well-written. And I love doggy sagas Mine are not quite so epic and heart-felt, though I have loved me some canines. I definitely have faith in The Mutt and I hope it proves me right with my parents' dachshund/labrador mix, who is now ~9 years old.