Can they be saved?

  

Newspapers being in trouble all over the country is not good news. Our local paper laying off staff last week also is not good news.

However, that doesn’t mean that I’m above making a snarky comment…or in this case, snarky graphic.

I read the Bee every morning with my coffee, have little panic attacks if I miss a day, and don’t hate it as much as, say, Joe Sac does, but I did have to laugh at the “scoop” comment on Sac Rag a couple of days ago. For whatever reason, I came up with this idea in the shower this morning.

Combine that with a slight case of hero worship for Jessica Hagy, and you have the above.

For more info about the decline of honey bees, click here.

For more info about the decline of the Sacramento Bee, click here.

 

Day 5: It’s all about my tits.

This is it…last day of the fast. That whole 10-day idea? Pshaw, I
say. That’s for extremist, zealot, raw-food, obsessive types. Five
days is puh-lenty if you ask me. I actually feel pretty darned good.
My head feels clear, my neck actually feels better than it has lately
(how? how? I have no idea.). I don’t think I’ve lost any weight,
though. How can you not eat for five days and *not* lose weight? Well,
except my tits, of course. So unfair. Anyway, this whole fasting thing
has been interesting–sometimes annoying, sometimes downright
gross–but interesting. Oh, but why the subject line?

Well, today I had my first mammogram. Yikes. Nothing like being hungry
*and* having your tits squashed. My rather-with-it doctor recommended it as a “baseline” for something to compare future mammograms against (which I actually thought was a fabulous idea from a health perspective–not so fabulous from the “Hey, I thought I didn’t have to do this til I hit 40″ perspective). It wasn’t that bad, though. They give you these little metal pasties to put on your nipples, so there was some fun involved. S**** took me to the clinic and provided moral support, which really she owed me because she ate PIE A LA MODE in front of my face last night. 

So, tonight, I “get” to cook up a vegetable stew thingy. I bought all
these interesting beans to put in it. Including adzuki
beans…whatever those are. Tonight I can have the broth, and tomorrow
I get to eat the vegetables. So terribly, terribly exciting, I know.
At least I’ve spared you all the really gross details. Perhaps,
someday, over a glass of wine, in hushed tones, I will share. I know
you can’t wait.

I am never willingly giving up eating again.

Click here to read Day 1. Click here for the whole diary.

Day 4: Starvation Ration

So, Day 3 sucked. Did you hear the giant sucking noise? That was Day
3, in case you were wondering.

I broke down and had a cup of miso soup last night. I can’t tell you
how exciting that was. I was hungry and grumbly, and the lemonade
and herbal teas just weren’t cutting it. The miso actually did the
trick–I think my body wanted some sodium. I felt warm and full for
the rest of the evening. So, I am pretty proud of myself for surviving
Day 3, for the most part.

Day 3: Where’s that damned euphoria, already?

Ah…back at work and day 3 of the fast. They say day 3 is the hardest. I have this godawful taste in my mouth and my tongue is coated with some sort of slime. I am glad my office mate is not here. I’m afraid that I smell bad, too. That could just be paranoia, but I
feel disgusting. I hate the lemonade, although it does really seem to
help stave off the hunger pangs. All the fasting articles I’ve read
have assured me that my tongue will go back to a normal, healthy pink
color in a few days. I am trying to take this as a good sign that I’m
releasing toxins, but really it’s just gross.

Hermiting

In a lot of ways, I’m feeling fortunate these days. I can do part of my job via telecommuting, which means I can avoid driving several days a week. This flexibility has allowed me to avoid the worst of the I-5 fix delays and use less gas.

I’m grateful for the days I can work from home because I have fewer distractions (other than my blog, of course) and can knock out my projects quickly and efficiently. However, staying at home means limited human interaction, too. I’m a pretty dedicated introvert most of the time, but see the real disadvantages in sitting all alone in my home office, still in my fuzzy slippers at noon. This sort of thing can make you a little wonky.

Fast Day 2: They say this part is only temporary

A cross between a cry for help and a PSA, the next few items are extracted from a diary and emails to some pals I wrote while attempting to do a “cleansing” fast shortly before I moved from Santa Cruz to Sacramento.

I’m grumpy. Crabby. Snitty. Pissy. They say it’s normal. As my body
“sheds toxins,” I’m apparently going to experience grumpiness and
aches. Wanna make something of it?

So, I actually woke up *not* hungry this morning. I was surprised. It
must have something to do with the fact that I dreamt about shoving
food in my mouth ALL FREAKING NIGHT.

The Fasting Diary: Day 1

A cross between a cry for help and a PSA, the next few items are extracted from a diary and emails to some pals I wrote while attempting to do a “cleansing” fast shortly before I moved from Santa Cruz to Sacramento.

It’s 3:15 p.m. on Saturday, and I started a fast today. And because
I’m trying not to think about food right now, I’ve decided you all
need to suffer along with me. Sympathy notes encouraged.

I decided to do it as a “spring cleaning”-lose a couple pounds-get the
cobwebs-out thing. I did a little surfing online last week, checking
out possible fasting regimes (did you know there’s something called a
“potato fast”–whatever…). I decided to go with one that C**** went
on, a “lemonade fast.” It’s 10 days long, but hey, I get to drink
lemonade. So, okay, I’m going with it. I download the recipe and
“instructions.”

Welcome to the Jungle

My garden is bursting its seams, literally. The plants are growing so large, they’re overlapping each other. Everything seems to be quite happy, except the last little tomato plant, which is being overshadowed by the cucumber. All this is in only an 8×8 space. I wanted to start small because of my lack of gardening experience–now I find myself wishing I’d planned a larger garden. But, this garden is manageable, and I am already telling myself I can do a bigger one next year.

Masochism 101

I started summer school last night. I’m not entirely sure this is how I want to spend my summer, but I’m fairly certain it will put a dent in my social life and possibly make me doubt my will to live.

Why would anyone willingly do this to themselves? I’m applying for a PhD program soon, and I have a few prerequisites to clear up…thus, summer night classes at Sac City College for me. Given that the last time I cracked a textbook was, oh, around the turn of the century–literally–it’s fair to say I’m rusty at this studying thing (for example, right now, I should be studying. Instead, I’m blogging. Equals procrastination.).

The Irony of Freedom

I admire the many couples who are choosing to get married today. People who are my neighbors, colleagues, and friends have struggled long and tirelessly against bigotry and ignorance about their lifestyles.

Californians are infamous for our tolerance and strange ways. Having grown up here means I find it mystifying that people would protest gay marriage. I really don’t get that. While I have no desire to marry someone of the same sex, I cannot conceive of denying someone else their right to do so.

The folks who oppose gay marriage seem to be overlooking a great hypocrisy in their own actions: