Soup

 

Soup is a kind of cure-all isn't it? Homemade that is, not the can or packaged. In the good old days the Swiss company Knorr had a good run at it with their dried. No more now. Corporate takeovers being what they are and profiteering mightily on a once loved and respected brand name by cheapening its content: hello nasty corn products.  

I have to lose weight. No choice. I am old and too much strain on the internal organs and external joints. And my past life of hiking and running ended abruptly with a bad fall on the ice where I injured my back. 

I look around me and realize that it is the skinnier ones who live long and healthily and preserve their joints well by walking or other form of exercise every day. My doc advised swimming but a brother tells me not a good idea as the surfaces are very slippery and my footing is none too reliable and I doubt if I could carry George, my trusty cane, into the pool. Walking some days is not as challenging as others, depending on the pain in my knee joints and my back. But persistence is my middle name.

I lost 5 pounds in the last two weeks. I can never quite think well in metric, the old imperial measures have more meaning for me. 5 pounds converts to 2.27 kilos but that sounds kind of pitiful next to 5 large pounds. Kilos are too dainty. Miserly almost.

So yesterday I made my dairy free, gluten free, salt free, fish chowder. I don't use recipes for the most part so if anyone wants, I can list what I threw in it but not the quantities. 

I find soup nourishing and I don't feel so deprived when eating it. My father, a stickler for table manners, told us we "ate" soup, and only peasants "drank" it. We were also told that only the uncivilized cut their buns, the civilized broke theirs gently, not crushing the innards. Considering we were one generation removed from poverty stricken tenant farmers this was a giant leap to "grandness" in table manners. Emulating our betters. I could tell you more stories.

So I was able to put 4 jars in the freezer while saving another bowl for tonight. I have to be very strict with myself as food calls my name more often than not. And having had spells as an anorexic in my past I have to be vigilant and mindful and, well, disciplined. Ouch.

 

Encouragement

-------------------------------------my mantra------------------------------------

I get encouragement from unexpected sources.

I'm not a person who's greatly disciplined.

I have routines that give me pleasure. The slog work I tend to avoid.

I envy others who can pack the slog and pleasure into a smooth run. I watch them wipe counters and brush up as they accomplish other tasks. Like a a ballet.

I'm a reactive housekeeper. I'll clean up like a mad thing if you're coming over. I've been known to pile up dishes because I don't have time to unload the dishwasher as I'm too busy binding a handcrafted afghan or immersed in an unputdownable book or writing a chapter or prepping a workshop.

I get private emails from those who read my blog. And sometimes it's a lash with a wet noodle.

One of them recently had me mulling - in a good way. (S)he questioned why I salivated over others' words in books when I should be working more on my own creative words.

Another, who lives in France, wrote me directly having lurked on my blog for years, and asked me why I'd never finished my thoughts on emigration from Ireland as she could relate. So yes, I need to concentrate more on writing.

I did write a piece on emigration but it was brutal, savage, blunt and harsh. And I hesitated with it, filed it away. But honesty can be brutal. Honesty can be harsh. But as Granny said: hesitation buys no tea.

Maybe I do need to back away for a while from distractions. And salt myself away in the Tigeen and write.

Encouragement.
It wakes me up.
I need that.