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Is that a tube of Poligrip in your pocket?

7/28/2013

"Are you happy to see me, or is that a tube of Poligrip in your pocket?"
Those were the first words my friend K spoke as he pulled up to the dock yesterday. I assured him it was Poligrip. Matter of fact I mentioned it a couple more times before we even got off the dock, just to make sure...
Because it's a pretty good gauge of temperature for those without a thermometer, or those who can't read one, a tube of Poligrip is pretty handy to have around.
As the temperature gets colder the Poligrip becomes more difficult to squeeze out. For instance, on a cold winter morning at camp it takes two hands and considerable muscle to squeeze out, so I know a fire in the stove is top priority.
At this time of year if a one-handed squeeze is a chore, but it's not quite cold enough for two hands, I know it's a good day for the hot tub.
In all cases, I'm now in the habit at camp of putting the tube of Poligrip in my pocket when I get up, and when I need it a few minutes later it's warmed up and ready to flow like the little blob in a lava lamp.
If you come to visit, and wonder how happy I am to see you, you could just take a look to see if smoke is rising from the hot tub chimney before you ask.

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Songs of the stomach

7/23/2013

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Since starting my diet and changing eating habits a bit my stomach frequently rattles, rumbles, grumbles, sloshes, growls, gargles, gurgles and just generally snipes at me in its muffled little protests. No harm done. No discomfort. No distress. Just comical noises.
Last week I was in the bathroom when I started hearing these muffled voices from my stomach and thought they sounded more urgent and angry than usual, but I wasn't feeling anything so didn't give much thought to the racket.
Eventually I realized it wasn't my stomach at all. The cat was on the other side of the door trying to hork up a hairball. Ha, ha. The last belly laugh was mine!

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Eureka moment

7/14/2013

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I guess at one time or another everybody has been wrenched awake from a pleasant, sunny mid-afternoon snooze in their zero-gravity chair by a patio table, nine-foot umbrella, cell phone, camera, binoculars, half drank vodka/tonic, pair of glasses, music speaker, fly swatter, can of insect repellent, and everything else that had been on the table when the snooze began, on top of them.
I remember the day a couple weeks ago when that happened to me. It quickly closed out a nice dream and left me unhurt, but floundering a bit as I tried to prevent the breakables that weren't already on the floor from falling there. Those who have tried to arise from a zero-gravity chair know it's not as easy, at the best of times, as falling off a teeter-totter. Since I start out with the equivalent of a big bag of cattle feed nestled comfortably on my body between the boobs and the belly button I found myself flailing even more awkwardly at that moment.
Once extricated - no harm done - I thought about the silliness of a patio table trying to hold up an eight-foot stick with a nine-foot diameter kite at the top. How many times over the years have I been among a table of friends who have grabbed the table with both hands during a wind gust to minimize the sloshing of drinks and the spilling of peanuts, chips and dip into our laps? And how often does the umbrella in a table actually shade where we're sitting, anyway?
Mostly we spend the mornings sitting at the next table west of the one with the shade umbrella. In the afternoon we shashay, drinks and snacks in hand, over to the table east of the one with the umbrella throwing the shade.
And where in the world do you buy replacements for those little plastic rings that sit in the table hole to protect the umbrella shaft and the table from chafing damage?
Here are pictures of my solution. A little piece of plywood, with a hole drilled in it to fit the umbrella shaft, screwed to the top deck rail. Placed between two tables one umbrella provides shade to one or the other of the tables at any given time, and even makes a small table itself for those moments when the sun is overhead and the shade is directly underneath. And during a rain.
I'll probably make some improvements. These were constructed on the spur of the moment with some half inch plywood scraps I had handy. A slightly larger surface would provide a nice bistro table effect, for one thing.
The little tables are sturdy as a tombstone, both for holding food and drink and for securing the umbrella.
Nobody has asked for advice, so I won't offer any.
But, if anyone were to ask, I'd say, "When you find yourself at the bottom of an avalanche, look for the eureka moment."

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My camp drink of the day

7/13/2013

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Still toying with new drinks. I close my eyes and call this a strawberry daiquiri. Mixed it up this morning with lake water, lemon slices, cucumber slices and wild strawberries gathered in front of the cabin, with lots of ice.
I know. It doesn't look like a strawberry daiquiri or taste like one, but it's my fantasy so I can close my eyes and dream whatever I want.
It's not unlike plopping into a barber chair. As long as your eyes are open you know it's ol' Floyd the barber doing the snip, snip. But when you close your eyes those fingers running gently through the hair and massaging the scalp can belong to whoever you wish.
For many of us the daydream probably isn't Floyd.

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Pickle jar journey

7/8/2013

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An old high school friend asked how I'm doing with my diet. When I wrote back he replied that I should share the story. So...

Everything is going swimmingly. I'm doing very well. Thanks for asking, pal.

It has become more apparent to me that I'm engaged in two related, but separate, challenges. One is alcohol use, the other is eating and dietary stuff.

It's been just under two weeks since starting. So far I've lost three pounds and have not had a single drink of alcohol, nor even the hint of a sniff of alcohol vapors rising from a little glass of libation.

My outlook is aimed forward, not allowing a lot of dwelling on the past. I've smoked, and drank and eaten over the years in ways that have helped me achieve a high ranking for indulgence in all those categories. It's been good, and I'm proud of it. I've had a great run. Now, it's time to find some new pleasures and challenges, and I'm convinced I'll do that with the same determination and joy as before.

I'm on the search for different barbeque recipes, though I can incorporate a lot of my favorites right now and just eat moderate portions (I think. I'm still wandering in a bit of a fog through all the diet plans and approaches to healthy eating). I know already that a burger made from three kinds of chopped up mushrooms and onions and garlic and eggs and a couple of my favorite seasonings isn't going to the top of my favorite's list (and that's the only thing on the list at the moment).

On the other hand, I have made a mixed drink (Caesar, but Bloody Mary would work as well, I think) using Clamato juice, lemon slices, olives, dill pickle spears, small tomatoes (or big ones cut into smaller chunks), tabasco, Old Bay seasoning that is so good your socks will fly off as you sip it. (I also drink some club soda with lemon slices in my favorite scotch glass which works fine). I think attitude goes a long way.

Saturday I had a six-hour boat cruise. It's part of a trip I do, along with two other Rotary friends, in which we auction off this outing for four couples. It's an hour and a half cruise each way out to a friend's island camp on Minnitaki where we hang out for three hours and enjoy drinks and a top notch meal (this year - about six different hors d'oevres, including deep fried halibut fingers from a fish one of the guys caught on a British Columbia trip a couple weeks ago, standing rib roast with early potatoes and vegetables, two kinds of salads, two desserts (pecan pie and rhubarb crumble), unlimited wine and margaritas). Extravagant!

Knowing this particular afternoon/evening would be a special temptation I tried to figure out how I'd handle the drinks, and came up with the idea of mixing a big batch of my good ol' Caesar in a pickle jar I had handy, figuring it would contain everything and be the equivalent volume of several drinks and I could drink right from the jar and then easily eat all the debris (pickles, olives, etc.) right out of the wide-mouth jar when the juice ran low.

As you might imagine, there was quite a bit of good natured banter when I hauled out my drinking vessel as everybody wanted to know, "What the hell is that?" They all knew my program so I was able to tell them in my most distinctive, pseudo-indignant manner, "I call it a Shirley Temple and it's very, very good."

After a few minutes of occasional jokes, curiosity got the better of a couple people as they saw me obviously enjoying my drink and they wondered if they might try a sip - just to see what it was like. Pretty soon my pickle jar was passing around the group like the communion cup at a Baptist revival. It was cool. Pretty much turned what could have been a bummer, can't drink, into a fun little event that everybody got a kick out of.

Doubt if I made any converts (which wasn't my intention, anyway), but I'll bet it contributed some influence in case anybody else wants to quit drinking sometime.

So, everything is going fine. I'm well aware that two weeks represents only a tiny step, but I'm there and pretty happy about it.

And I identified a new bird (for me) at camp yesterday - a Ruby Crowned Kinglet.

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Canada Day

7/1/2013

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Happy Canada Day, my friends. I immigrated to this country in June 1968 and became a full-fledged citizen in April 1974. These were the best decisions of my life. Next spring will mark my 46th year as a Canadian resident and my 40th year as a real Canadian. Pretty cool, eh? Happy Holiday.

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