Happy Samhain!

Happy Samhain!

A poem for my garden

Oh morning dew
Sun-kissed sparkle of Mab herself
Visiting my garden so very early
Like the first hot day of summer.

Grow, my little garden
And think of those days of summer
When the ground is dry, and the air hot
And remember why here is now.

OK, so it's not too hot a poem, but I'm hoping it will appease whatever sprites, pixies, fairies, mini-goddesses, etc that might be lurking out there into protecting the winter garden. This past summer, they apparently all decided to take a long vacation, except for a couple who hung around, trying to take up the slack for the other slackers. So far the garden is looking good, and actually producing food. We've been eating lettuce twice a week, and there are a large batch of Brussels sprouts that need to transplanted. If it doesn't rain today I might get to that.
In other news, we have a new pet in the house, I'll be posting pics later on my Food Porn blog. And after short debate, I've decided to start a blog here about the Farm, since the Cat Creek system is clunky and not at all user friendly, and a pain in my ass.

Whew...

Is it time for cake yet? The Fatosphere is awash with name calling, finger pointing, and various other nasty things going on, like always happens when you get a bunch of people all hanging out in one place for any length of time.
I fully admit that there are those PMS days where I jump right in, give my Aspie two cents (Which is actually 4 or 5 cents, if you are an Aspie!) and get downright shitty like the rest of them. Other days, I just want to sit in the garden and eat cake. Today is one of those days, so I'm off to find some cake.

Cheating, poly and other things

Interesting convo going on over at Casa De Zaftig about cheating. Even tho the ex demanded a poly relationship, he continued to cheat on me and break the rules.

While my SO and I are not monogamous, we also are not seeing anyone else at this time, and haven't for some years. We're just too much into each other, and have no need to. The whole idea of polyamory is to be open to getting what you need from another while maintaining your primary relationship, instead of serial monogamy. Maybe some day the SO and I will see other people, maybe not. It took us too many years to find each other. We're a near perfect match, true 'soul mates' if you will. So no need for anyone else. We're totally happy, and that's what counts!

A little cheese with that whine?

OK, I am not the most tolerant person. Hell, I'm pretty intolerant in most instances. I have seen injustices personally in my life that would make another person weep. So I have a hard time with people who whine and cry about their circumstances, but do nothing to fix it. If you just want to vent, SAY SO! Don't ask me for my opinion/help if you don't want it. I will give it to you! If you're homeless, and it's your fault, then do something about it. If you are treated poorly at a store, quit shopping there. If you are fat and hate it and yourself, then do something about it. If you just want to whine and cry, fine, but let me know first this that is all you want. I have a limited amount of energy, and don't want to waste it. I'd rather save it for the important things. Quit blaming everyone/everything else, and take some responsibilty.

Speed kills, but first it makes you an asshole

I am watching two ppl committing slow suicide. One is a musician who is prescription pill addict. The other is a musician who has fallen back into speed. It's really hard watching the slow slide of two people who are smart and talented, and know better. The cold dead hand of addiction has grasped them in its bony fist, and doesn't look like it will let them go this time.
I know why musicians turn to drugs. Playing is painful. It looks easy, but a couple of hours playing makes your body feel like a 10 hour shift at the steel mill. The drugs dull the pain, ease the exhaustion, but they do more harm than good.
My bass player had it all twice; speed took it away both times. My drummer friend feels like there's nothing left, since most of her friends have fallen away because of her pill use. She has become a user of people as well, she never calls unless it is to take her to get her fix at the so-called 'pain management clinic'.
My bass player is smart, funny and great fun to be around. Unless he's tweeking. Then he's a loud asshole. I dropped the band a few years ago because of his speed use, looks like I might have to do it again. I have all but cut my drummer friend off because after I said my piece, she has decided to continue on her path of destruction. I'm sad. Very very sad. And depressed over this. But I also know that I have to save myself, or get drawn into their drug induced drama. Both of them do nothing at this point except drugs and sleep. Pass. thanks. I have entirely too much life and talent to wait around for that. I learned my lesson a long time ago, and I can't help them. I tried, and got burned for my effort. Never again.

So I'm Confused....

So, there's this huge nasty argument going on over at the Zaftigs. I'm not sure why, I quit reading the thread that started the whole thing awhile back, for my own sanity. Something about the grrls being called puerile (Look it up), and they took exception to it, now peeps are really getting into the whole trashing thing, or if they are being sarcastic, they are falling short. (Well, not the grlls, but it was kinda obvious on their part). Oh well, it always happens no matter what you are talking about, with whom, people are people.

Yes, we're fat, get over it!

The term 'obese' has become the new N-word in the media and other places. Until the 1960's (Thanks Twiggy, you anorexic twat!) women with padding were considered attractive and desirable. It showed that she had wealth, because only poor people were thin. In many cultures, thin women were considered ugly and unmarriageable, since they probably wouldn't be able to produce viable offspring.
With the shift of cheap processed convenience foods in the 1950's replacing wholesome real food, the poor began to get bigger, and being thin was the realm of the rich. Only the wealthy could afford to buy fresh fruits and vegetables, and lean meats. The rest of the population could only afford to eat sub-standard junk, sugar and fat loaded crap, or 'plastic food-like substances', as described by Michael Pollan. Chemicals became cheaper than real food, and that's what many of us grew up on.
I was lucky in that I had Old World grandparents. Grandma was horrified at the thought of Kraft mac and cheese. She spent a good chunk of her day in the kitchen, preparing everything from scratch. Mother cooked as well, but the older she got, and the more into her social life, the more junk food came into the house. (Grandparents were gone by that time) As society changed, she began to berate me for being "fat", dragging me to Weight Watchers, forcing me to ingest all kind of chemical weight loss crap, and then taking me to a 'diet doctor' (otherwise known as a pill pusher) at 12 to get speed and some sort of injections. (I finally refused to go after one such injection was put into a nerve cluster, causing me horrible pain for several years) And you know what? I wasn't fat at the time. I was big, but with Italian/German/American Indian genetics, I wasn't the thin tit-less standard of beauty at the time.
As an adult, after constantly being harassed, I decided to try Weight Watchers again. The first appointment they set my goal weight at 112 pounds. (I'm 5'5" and was 220 at the time.) After a couple of sessions, I went to my doc for a checkup, and told her what they had said. She was horrified. She promptly did a skeletal density test, and claimed "Stop going, your skeleton weights about 100 pounds. You're not fat, just a few pounds over. I'd like to see you between 185 and 200." I hovered around that weight for years until my husband started abusing me and cheating on me, and I turned to the only friend I had since we had moved, food. I gained alot, and even more when I became pregnant. The OB claimed that I had gestational diabetes, and I had to use a monitor 4 times daily. Then she accused me of lying, and told my husband to chart the results, and keep the log so I couldn't change it. Guess what? No diabetes. None. Nada. Not even a high blood sugar reading.
After years of abuse and self-torture, I finally began to lose weight. I was 325 for a few years. About this time was when my husband announced that if we didn't become polyamourous, he would divorce me. And as the typical abused spouse, I agreed, since I was terrified to be alone. Well, that backfired on him big time, as women (and men) flocked to me, and pretty much ignored him, except for the mental patient he'd been cheating on me with for years. (They met when he was an aid at the state hospital.) Unhappy with my life, I turned to drugs and drinking to cope. I partied with the best of them, and lost 120 pounds. And you know what? I was STILL horribly unhappy. I could (and did sometimes) have a different lover every week, and it still wasn't enough. I had a closet full of beautiful stylish clothes, and they didn't make me happy. I was miserable, and headed down a bad road at high speed.
Then one day I woke up, and realized that it wasn't me that was the problem, it was him. So I finally got the courage to throw him out and divorce him. He ended up marrying the mental patient, since no one else would have him. They are a perfectly matched pair, drugging and drinking on a regular basis. I only wish my son didn't have to go over there and deal with that shit. (And no, the state won't do a thing, because the abuse is emotional, and not physical, and we can't catch them doing the drugs in public.)
I've since remarried a wonderful man who is also big. I LOVE having a partner that I don't feel like I'm going to break if I hug them too hard. We love ourselves, and each other, and he's more of a father to my son than his biological father, whose idea of parenting is to come out of the smoke filled bedroom to yell on occasion. (SO 1950's of him!)
Americans will not get less fat until we as a culture get rid of chemical crap pushed on us by the food industry. In many places, there are no grocery stores, and the corner markets are a thing of the past. As food prices continue to go up, more and more people are turning to fast food dollar menus to feed their families, because they have lost the skills and knowledge to prepare wholesome food. Many families are dual income just to be able to keep a roof over their heads, and are too tired and stresses to fix food from scratch. I was one of those until I decided my health and my family's health was more important than being able to buy the newest electronic toys and things we really didn't need. So now I spend a good portion of my day raising and preparing our food. And I love it.

Real beauty in a mag, for a change!

No idea how long it'll last, but Glamour magazine is finally crusading 'regular' size models for their shoots. Check out the pic, beautiful!