A GREAT DAY

It’s a great day.  I’ve been up since 4 am and am feeling almost normal.  My Hands are better, my gait is better, but my weight is up a pound.  At 7 am, I went out hunting for a pecan danish.  Renee rarely asks for anything but yesterday I caught her looking for a bakery.  She wanted a pecan danish.

Living in North Carolina after living in Chicago is akin to living on the moon. In Illinois, I had at least 5 bakeries within an 8 mile radius.  I can’t find a bakery within 10 miles of home.  I ended up at Publix Supermarket this am.

They did not have any pecan danishes, but they did have sticky buns.

I can’t figure out how I’m fat!  None of the foods I like can easily be found here.  I’d give my left nut for a hot corned beef and pastrami sandwich (the hell with the diet).  I’d also love to find a good Chinese Restaurant, a Polish Deli, a Chicago style pizza and a Lettuce Entertain You establishment.  None exist here.  I’m also surprised to find that southern fried chicken has been replaced by Popeyes and Bojangles.

I have to admit, I’ve fallen in love with pimento cheese and Brookwood Farm BBQ but they fail to fill the void.  Obviously, I’m obsessing over food and I’m not even stoned.  I guess I’m lucky.  I’m 40 pounds too heavy surviving on my own cooking.  I’ve always loved to cook and Renee loves to bake.  So, while I can, I cook and Renee just thinks about baking because she loves me and knows I’ll eat what she bakes. I can only imagine how fat I’d be if I had a few really good eating establishments.

I’m sticking with Weight Watchers and am down 5 pounds.  I have to control my food obsession.  I’m trying to substitute sex but Renee claims I’m killing her.  I tried to substitute exercise but that was killing me.  I think getting a job would help but getting a license to practice telemed from home in NC is not realistic.  I’m running out of answers and am open to suggestions.

In the meantime, I’ll keep writing and work on a book looking at how to transition from health to chronic illness gracefully.  Unfortunately, I’ve yet to figure out how to do that.

Here’s your music and a joke.  

A family is at the dinner table. The son asks the father, “Dad, how many kinds of boobs are there?” The father, surprised, answers, “Well, son, a woman goes through three phases. In her 20s, a woman’s breasts are like melons, round and firm. In her 30s and 40s, they are like pears, still nice, hanging a bit. After 50, they are like onions.” “Onions?” the son asks. “Yes. You see them and they make you cry.” This infuriated his wife and daughter. The daughter asks, “Mom, how many different kinds of willies are there?” The mother smiles and says, “Well, dear, a man goes through three phases also. In his 20s, his willy is like an oak tree, mighty and hard. In his 30s and 40s, it’s like a birch, flexible but reliable. After his 50s, it’s like a Christmas tree.” “A Christmas tree?” the daughter asks. “Yes, dead from the root up and the balls are just for decoration.”