A Little Light Reading

Digestive problems are sapping my energy and creativity, not that I had immense reserves of either prior to becoming ill. And, yes, I’m a bit of a wimp with tendencies towards hypochondria and hyperbole, but I’m also a curious wimp, so I ordered a book from Amazon to help me address the issues plaguing me.

Until I am able to go through diagnostic testing I’m supposed to follow a Low-FODMAP diet. When I looked that term up on the internet I just got lists of foods that were either low or high FODMAP. The acronym stands for Fermentable Oligo-Di, Mono-saccharides And Polyols. Simply put, FODMAPs are a type of carbohydrates not easily processed by some people.

The book suggests eating only low-FODMAP foods for a full seven days before slowly introducing foods on the high-FODMAP list back into one’s diet. Fortunately I’ve never been a picky eater, so I should be able to follow the prescribed diet fairly easily. The biggest bummer is that I can’t have yogurt for 7 days.

I felt really good today (Saturday). I even ventured out to some garage sales in Tallahassee while Studly Doright played golf. I bought a book on writing to replace the copy I lost several moves ago and a pretty glass dish because I liked the way the sun shone through it.

It’s been a good day at Doright Manor.

Peace, people.

Tide Table

Bare toes, blue water

Minutes stretched thin across time

Watching tide’s return

Sand pipers scurry

Shy of ripples’ foamy touch

Dashing to safe shore

Footprints on the beach

Now you see them, now you don’t

Magical sunset

(Note: I’m tired of being sick and writing about being sick, so I went to the beach in my mind. The photos are all from Pinterest.)

Like a Kid in Detention

It’s not often that I find myself on the receiving end of a scolding finger, but that’s exactly where I was today. When I told my doctor of my gastric distress and the accompanying symptoms, she gave me “the look” and began gently scolding.

“You really should’ve gone to an emergency room,” she said, in her no nonsense tone. After giving me more details of what my symptoms indicated she ended with, “you’re lucky it wasn’t much worse.”

Jokingly I said, “You mean I might’ve died alone in room 230 of the Drury Inn in Lafayette, Louisiana?”

She didn’t crack a smile, only shook her finger at me and began ordering tests. Thoroughly chastened, I listened to every word she said. For now I’m on a restricted diet, and an acid blocker. It could be awhile before I can get in to have the procedures, but believe me, I won’t hesitate to go to the ER if need be. I hated having a finger shaken at me!

Peace, people!

Home and Miserable

My trip has come to an end. Thank goodness! I loved seeing my son in Dallas and his family, and my niece and her children in Austin. I enjoyed seeing Michelle Obama and Rachael Ray at “The Drum” on Thursday night. It was a great trip.

But, (you knew there was going to be a but, right?) I was so sick the whole time. Don’t worry, I wasn’t infectious. I’m having stomach issues similar to what I experienced almost a year ago, and even though I started on antibiotics two days before departing I was plenty miserable most of the time.

The drive was awful. Usually I enjoy odd sights along the way, but this trip I was too focused on finding the next clean rest stop to pay attention to oddities. Oh, and I was as annoying as a guest can be. The words “I can’t eat that,” came out of my mouth more times in a week than they have in my entire life. I’ve never been a picky eater, but literally everything causes me gastric distress right now.

I have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow. This has to come to an end. One has to be firm with one’s stomach, right?

Peace, people.

My Great-Hedgehog

Bandit is the beloved pet of our oldest grandchild, Dominique, so I suppose that makes Bandit my great-hedgehog.

Above, Dominique with Bandit.

Aren’t they adorable?

Bandit even allowed me to cuddle her. I’m kind of smitten by this prickly baby.

I had to say goodbye to the Texas bunch today, and I’ve stopped for the night in Meridian, Mississippi. I’m about halfway home. My body sure doesn’t travel as well as it once did!

Peace, people!

Lazy in Dallas

I didn’t post anything yesterday morning because I was hanging out with my son and grandson going to estate sales around Dallas. None of us bought a thing, but we had fun looking at stuff we didn’t need or want.

After a light lunch some of us napped. I’m not saying I was one of the nappers, but about two hours of my life passed without my knowledge, so chances are I was.

We had a pleasantly low key evening watching television. The guys watched the movie, “Tag” in one room, while my daughter-in-law, granddaughter, and I watched the British series, “Safe,” until my eyes would no longer stay open.

Not sure what’s in store for today, but whatever it is will be just right. Tomorrow I’ll start driving home to Doright Manor.

Peace, people

All That and Rachael Ray, Too

It’s well past my bedtime on Thursday night, so I’m not going to write much. Those of you who follow my blog know that I’m in Austin, Texas, visiting my niece and attending an Evening With Michelle Obama.

If seeing Michelle Obama wasn’t exciting enough, the moderator for the evening was Rachael Ray. Neither my niece nor I had an inkling that Rachael would be introducing and interviewing the former First Lady, and our faces lit up like kids on Christmas morning when Rachael walked onstage.

Michelle was candid and honest, charming and feisty. Rachael was her usual adorable self, and she pulled off a great interview with the former First Lady. It was a great evening, but I’m really tired right now and going to bed.

Peace, people!

It’s Pronounced “Byuda”

I made it to Buda, Texas, yesterday afternoon after wandering on back roads because my car’s gps and I had an argument. It wanted to take me on toll roads and I wanted to avoid them, so we compromised. As a result I was an hour later arriving in Buda than I’d planned. Oh, and Siri on my iPhone doesn’t do well with the name “Buda” and kept telling me there was no town called Butor in Texas. I might have yelled at her a time or two. Yes, the war between woman and machines has begun.

I hadn’t slept much on Tuesday night, so I tried to take a nap when I got into my hotel room. No luck. I think in spite of being super tired I was too excited about seeing my niece and her kids. We went to dinner last night, and I enjoyed talking with them so much. It’s hard to fathom that they’re both high schoolers. When I get tired, I get a little weird, so I’m sure I talked way too much. Today I vow to do better. It helps that I slept last night.

Today my niece and I are just going to hang out, then we’ll drive into Austin for our evening with Michelle Obama. Of course my fantasies involve her pointing us out in the crowd and having us come to the stage for a quick hug. I’ll settle for a wave, though.

I’d better hit publish so I can get this day started. Can’t keep Michelle waiting.

Peace, people.

A Mixed Bag, and That ISN’T Cocaine!

(Note: I wrote this on Tuesday evening. Hopefully by the time it publishes on Wednesday I’ll be well rested and powder free.)

The sleep fairy was a fickle critter last night. Studly Doright was out of town, and I stayed up past my bedtime packing for my own trip to Texas. My thoughts were racing and every little noise made me jump. One would’ve thought I was on a drug-fueled high, except that I don’t do anything stronger than caffeine these days, and that only sparingly.

Maybe I got in three hours of rest between the hours of two and five before I gave up the fight and decided to shower and get on the road. Since my night vision really stinks I waited until sunrise before saying goodbye to the cats and turning out the lights at Doright Manor.

For the first couple of hours I made good time, then weariness began setting in. I made frequent stops, and I’m fairly sure I have now officially patronized every rest area between Tallahassee, Florida, and Lafayette, Louisiana, where I stopped for the night at a Drury Inn. Look at this cool sculpture that adorns the wall of a welcome center in Mississippi:

At a gas station in Mississippi I purchased a product I’ve heard about my whole life, but had never tried–BC Powder. I’d wanted Bayer aspirin, because the hypochondriac in me decided I might be having a heart attack. I get weird when I’m tired. The clerk suggested BC instead, and I bought it and a bottle of water to wash it down.

Having never used BC Powder, I was unprepared for it to be just that, a powder. Go figure, right? As soon as I was back in the car I opened the package and white stuff went everywhere. It was on my shirt, my pants, the car seat. After cleaning up the mess, I gingerly opened a second packet and with some measure of control managed to shake it onto my tongue where I could then send it into my system with the water.

Now, only after I’d washed it down did I notice that caffeine is a key ingredient in BC Powder. Great. I’ll likely be awake most of tonight, as well. Oh, and when I had a chance to look in the mirror in my hotel room I realized I had BC Powder on my face. No wonder the hotel desk clerk kept giving me odd looks. I promise, it’s not cocaine!

Peace, people.