Month: April 2003

  • Ai-yi-yi…thought I was SO clever…



    I won’t give up!  Maybe it will work part of the time; maybe it will work MOST of the time, when Mercury isn’t retrograde… maybe it will NEVER work and I’ll just have to keep working around it… maybe I’m not as smart as I thought I was.


    I thought I had a plan, a system (at KaiOaty’s place) that would funnel prospective clients through the disclaimers and FAQ, and would filter out the inappropriate questions and the ones that can be answered by the FAQ.  So far it is a dismal failure, no one has been willing to follow my explicit instructions, but the sample is still small and Merc is still bassackwards so there might be some glimmer of hope.


    Greyfox could never see the point anyway, in trying to filter OUT clients.  Each time I showed him part of the system, he got a blank puzzled look.  Each time I asked him to proofread and edit, he came up with alternatives that were designed to suck people in instead of weeding them out.  If the man who has lived with me for going on 13 years, who was my business partner before he decided that shamanism didn’t pay well enough for him, doesn’t get it, will anyone ever get it?


    It seemed great in theory:  put my years of experience and expertise into a series of FAQ pages that would answer at least 95% of the questions I’m usually asked, and spend my retirement happily answering the other 5% in personal readings.  At the same time, the effort of navigating the FAQ to find the place to put the questions would increase the perceived value of the service, so my work would not just be tossed aside as a valueless freebie. 


    There is a hole in the system I don’t know how to plug… at least not yet.  While I work on the questions that have been dropped in the wrong place, I guess some part of my brain will be working on plugging the hole.  This, I suppose, is what a shakedown cruise is supposed to do:  find the glitches.


    I’m outta here… got work to do.  Seeya maƱana, on my Xangaversary.

  • more Mercury retro muckup


    Saturday I posted what I thought was a sorta snappish reply I had made to a drive-by comment.  You pretty much all agreed I had been too kind.  Well, I’m here now to tell you I had totally misjudged Ms. churlish-on-the-beach.


    I had thought it was just the standard, drive-by, shooting-off-of-the-keyboard, triggered by my mention in that blog of having stayed on my diet through my recent interlude of infection.  I was wrong, so wrong.


    I got an email from her today.  She, I don’t think, had even read that blog.  Her comment was spam she was putting on every site in the eating disorders blogring.  I don’t think I was too kind or too cruel in my reply to her email.  I just gave her a quick lesson in some of the netiquette I’ve learned from you Xangans who were here before I was.


    Public service spam in her eyes, I’m sure, her little round robin mission is to me a good illustration of something I noticed before I got fed up with having my posts deleted on an eating disorders board site.  Anorexics and bulimics tend to think that their eating disorders are the only ones there are. 


    My offense, if you’re wondering, that kept getting my posts suppressed, was to suggest that there is such a thing as biochemical causes for eating disorders: addiction and revulsion to food.  That site was heavily invested in the idea that it is all in our heads, and that counseling, 12-steps, and white-knuckle willpower are the only ways to go.  Puh!


    I’ve had a good, productive day… how about you?

  • More on diet, alcohol, etc.


    Interesting issues were raised by mooncry and roadrunner.


    Acetaldehyde:  if it has any chemical or biophysical connection with the addiction end of alcoholism, I’m ignorant of that angle.  What I have read is this:  when we who have that gene, the one that prevents the metabolism of acetaldehyde (or the lack of one that allows it to be metabolized), when we drink, we don’t enjoy it as much as others do.


    There is pain.  The first thing I notice, after maybe half a beer or a little sip of hard alcohol, is a tingling in my fingers and burning in my cheeks.  Acetaldehyde irritates mucous membranes, stomach lining, guts, etc.  My eyes burn when I drink, my nose runs. 


    Like others of my genotype, I get drunk quicker, on less booze, the “cheap date” syndrome.  My paternal grandfather died in a ditch, I’m told, on his way home from a drinking binge, bled out internally from an ulcer.  I would guess that acetaldehyde had something to do with that.


    We tend to be nasty, mean drunks.  Imagine being addicted to something that hurts that bad.  Gotta have it or suffer withdrawal.  When you get it you suffer a whole different way and you tend to make others around you suffer, too.  This is why for a long time it was illegal in this country to supply firewater to redskins.  We’re slightly more likely than your average drinker to go berserk on booze.


    A deficiency of GABA:  gamma-aminobutyric acid, is involved in alcohol addiction.  Supplementing it can make the cravings go away.   Most addicts are poly-addicted:  cigarettes and alcohol go together for many people, caffeine addiction often comes as a result of attempts to sober up without drying out.  Coffee and doughnuts are pushed at AA meetings, and many drunks successfully trade their alcohol addictions for addictions to caffeine and sugar. Thus other neurotransmitter imbalances and amino-acid deficiencies become involved.


    Out of all my studies, I’ve come to the conclusion that orthomolecular medicine has the best handle on addiction issues, much better than other branches of medicine or quasi-religious twelve-step programs, etc.  I took a book designed to treat substance abuse orthomolecularly, End Your Addiction Now, by Charles Gant, MD (www.charlesgantmd.com) and adapted its principles to my food addictions, which Dr. Gant does not address directly.  It worked for me.


    I’m familiar with the names roadrunner mentioned:  Drs. Atkins and Wallach.  Neither is my diet doc.  I’ve heard that the Atkins diet is similar to the Air Force Diet I tried in the 1960s.  It made me crave sweets so badly that I binged on a whole carton of 24 Cherry Mountain Bars.  


    Dr. Wallach’s minions are inhabiting an MLM pyramid, and I avoid them for that reason.  I know from nothing about what the man preaches, because I don’t really need what he pushes.  I found all my diet doctors in libraries and bookstores.  They are:


    Peter J. D’Adamo,MD:  Eat Right 4 Your Type and several sequels. (www.dadamo.com) Each of the four blood types: A, B, AB, and O, has different dietary needs and sensitivities.


    Drs. Rachael F. and Richard F. Heller:  The Carbohydrate Addict’s Diet and sequels. (www.carbohydrateaddicts.com)  Their diet is not strict enough for my needs, but they clued me that it IS an addiction so that when I learned of Dr. Gant’s addiction cure I was prepared to try it.  I also got some great info on food addiction here:  http://www.nutramed.com/eatingdisorders/addictivefoods.htm


    R. Paul St.Amand, MD:  What Your Doctor May NOT Tell You About Fibromyalgia.  (www.guaidoc.com)  Those of us who are currently recovering from a disease some doctors consider degenerative and incurable, call this man “The Saint”.  He identified in about one third of his fibro patients an unusual form of reactive hypoglycemia he calls “fibroglycemia”.  He made me aware of my need to strictly limit carbs.  His diet, all on its own, isn’t strict enough for me either, but combined with my blood type diet, the carb addict’s diet and THE ZONE, plus a lifetime of learning my own body’s needs, it gave me some missing pieces I needed.


    What I know about diet and nutrition:  The idiosyncratic, individualistic nature of individual biochemistry means there is no one diet that can work for everyone.  Those who do best on the Atkins diet have Type O blood.  I could not survive for long on such a diet.  In this household, there are three of us and three different blood types. 


    Doug is O:  carnivorous.  I’m A: sensitive to dairy and red meat, need lots of vegies.  Learning to love salad is saving my life and my sanity.  My new comfort food:  romaine, radicchio and celery–YUM!  Greyfox is B: allergic to crustaceans, can eat turkey but not chicken, beef but not pork, thrives on sandwiches, the rotten cur.  (Nobody knows how I miss sandwiches… or even just a little slice of TOAST.  It’s really not FAIR, y’know?  Anyone out there want to trade their Type B for my A?  Just the thought of a LEGAL, harmless, cheeseburger makes me warm all over.  If I have my way, I’ll come back with Type B blood in my next life–and just my luck I’d come back with a hankering for lobster and shrimp, too )



    P.S.  I should mention that after I’d started on my self-adapted amino acid supplements, I found another book that does address food addictions that way:  The Diet Cure by Julia Ross.  www.dietcure.com

  • could NOT resist


    Guess what, Kiddies!


    SuSu had a new reader drop in. 


    And, how, you might ask, does SuSu know that this is a NEW reader, and not some lurker who has only now decided to come out of the shadows and comment?  Easy question; simple answer:  because if this reader had been around here as long as nine-tenths (at least) of my other readers, then flourish_at_the_breach wouldn’t have left this thoughtless, insensitive and just plain ignorant comment on the blog before this one:



     ”if you eat a banana every morning it will increase your metabolism. try health smoothies.


    you should eat at least 1/4th of a sandwich with something healthy on it every 2 hours. because your stomache has already shrunk. do you know what happens when you don’t eat or when you throw it all up?


    your body begins to think its not going to get any nutrients so it stores them (aka. fat).


    i just thought you should know.”(sic)
    {The whole sick thing: sic}


    As most of my loyal readers may know and some surely do know, if I were to eat a banana every morning, within a few days, I wouldn’t be breathing without a respirator.  Very quickly after I would start eating mini-sandwiches every two hours, I would be down, getting short of breath from just turning over in bed, needing physical assistance and a jolt from the rescue inhaler, to get to the bathroom.


    Been there and done that, friends, and I’m not going back again.  I feel a great deal of confidence, now after about half a year since I started this diet, with the help of the amino acids to ease the addictive cravings.  Orthomolecular medicine, I am convinced, has given me the tools I needed to get fit, finally.  Even without the neurotransmitter precursor supplements now, I had no significant cravings for a couple of months, until that infection hit me–and I made it through the infection with my diet and my fitness intact.




    Before I took these pics last Halloween, I had shared with everyone here about half a year of extinction burst, and my struggle to end the burst before it ended me.  When I found the key, I shared these pictures of the bottles of pills I set up so I could get my biochemistry back on track.


    I started my Xanga account almost a year ago.  I was preparing to celebrate my xangaversary with a retrospective on the healing course with these addictions.  Churlish-on-the-beach or whatever has given me a great intro to my retrospective.


    Now I am going to share with you, my dear readers (and after this wonderful year here, you are very dear to me), my response to the comment quoted above:



    Y’know, when I read that flip drive-by comment you left at my site, I was tempted to pop over here, tell you that you are stone fuckin’ nuts and leave it at that. But maybe if I inform you, it will save everyone a little trouble down the road. One can hope.

    Some people see the word, “diet” and automatically think starvation or weight loss. You don’t know as much about nutrition as you think you do, and you know nothing at all about me. Fat is not an issue in my life. I suppose it is for you or you wouldn’t have jumped on that as you did.

    I have severe health problems caused by food addictions and allergies. My diet is all that stands between me and disability and a slow, agonizing death.

    My friends on Xanga know this and I share my trials and triumphs with them. You, on the other hand, haven’t a clue. You “prescribed” half a sandwich for me, along with a few other items, such as bananas, which I cannot tolerate. I can proudly say that it has been about half a year since I indulged in any of the foods to which I’m sensitive. No bread, no sugar, no cow’s milk or cheese, no tomatoes, potatoes… oh why go on? It’s a long list and of course, you had no way of knowing any of this.

    I would think that knowing that you don’t know anything, though, might clue you to shut up and pay attention so you can learn.

    SuSu/KaiOaty



    **Yeah, yeah, I know–Mercury is stationary retrograde and such things are to be expected, no?  As the header says, I couldn’t resist this one.  It’s not only a perfect introduction to this retrospective I’ve been plotting, but a damn good illustration of Mercury retrograde as well.  Thanks for the opening, “flourish”, whoever you are.**


    “What is food to one man may be fierce poison to others.”
    Titus Lucretius Carus 95-55 BCE


    Oh, and Marian:  I HOPE you were joking about the booze.  Alcohol is super-sugar, empty calories, poison that makes people insane.  I got the gene from my Native American ancestors that keeps us from metabolizing acetaldehyde, one of the first-stage metabolites of alcohol.  You would NOT want to see me with firewater in my belly.

  • progress report


    The respiratory infection is progressing nicely. 
    Here’s what I did:


    lots of water
    adaptogenic herbs, immune boosters, infection fighters
    chicken soup (homemade as soon as I was able to function at that level: water, chicken, fresh spinach, garlic, salt, and nothing more)
    stayed on diet
    clarity of intent:  wellness is m’THING!

    Now I have:


    no fever, pain, eye or ear symptoms, malaise or hoarseness
    slight productive cough and some nasal congestion, not much
    some shortness of breath which should ease as I clear the chest congestion  *cough**hack**gack*


    Behind the scenes over at KaiOaty‘s Klinic, things are moving right along toward the unveiling of my brainchild at the Grand Re-Opening.


    Mercury, however, is making no apparent progress at all.  Today is the retro station.  I’m in sync, in tune, finishing up projects, getting to the bottom of things, looking at the underside, and screwing up communications (all those, of course, which aren’t being screwed up by others).   Happy, happy, joy, joy.


    Smile; things could be worse—and, sure enough…


    aand…


    BTW, this morning after I tried and failed to find an obscure word in my usual online dictionary, I found something wonderful.  Check the search box in my left module.

  • blah

    Wednesday, my early morning brain fog was thicker than usual and it
    didn’t lift at all, not for the entire day.  The second pot of
    coffee just made my stomach hurt.  My eyes started itching and
    watering.  My nose got congested.  My throat began to feel as
    if it was on fire.  I started craving ice cream, my lifelong
    comfort food for sore throats.  Not on my diet, need I add?

    There was no fever, so I still wasn’t sure whether it was a pollen
    allergy or if I’d caught whatever Seph had picked up on his way over
    here from Germany.  His voice was a fading croak when he arrived
    and he had a runny nose the whole time he was here.

    The “immunodysfunction” part of ME/CFIDS, “my” malady, has taught me
    caution where new infections are concerned.  I avoided close
    contact with Seph, even sanitized my phone before I used it after
    him.  Doug is showing some cold symptoms, but they were passing
    fighting sticks and game controllers back and forth.  His immune
    system is pretty healthy, anyhow.

    I just hoped I would get a free pass on that one, but it didn’t
    happen.  Yesterday, my slow immune system finally kicked in. 
    Fever and body aches were added to the cough, nausea (is it
    flu, I wonder?) and, worst of all, those damned cravings for the
    comfort foods.  Last night, had I not been so weak and helpless,
    I’d have killed for grilled cheese and a mug of tomato soup.

    I might even have grilled myself a forbidden sandwich and nuked a
    cup of soup, too, if I hadn’t been so exhausted from my day of
    traipsing from bed to bathroom.  But I stuck to the damned boring
    healthy nutritious diet.   No known allergens passed these
    lips.  Not one milligram of proscribed sugar or gluten or
    whatever, got into my system. 

    I contented myself with the closest thing to “fun” food I’ve come up
    with:  a very strange sort of nachos made of tortilla chips and
    string cheese.  I ate hard boiled egg and drank endless glasses of
    “sour lemonade”, a little bit of lemon juice in my water, for flavor,
    some extra nutrition and a better pH balance.  I was a goood girl.

    But–I cried.  I sniveled and I cried until it made me cough
    and then I pulled myself together and gave in to the cowardly impulse
    and took some Ibuprofen.  It’s forbidden, too, but what’s the
    prospect of a leaky gut somewhere down the road, compared to the
    prospect of a second night in a row of restless interrupted
    sleep? 

    I slept without interruption.  My fever is down.  It had
    been up over 101 yesterday.  That would be about 103 for a normal
    person, ’cause I’ve got a low baseline temp.  Today, my skin is
    moist and clammy, so I won’t even bother with the thermometer. 

    My brain is foggy, but then I haven’t had any coffee yet, just
    rolled out of bed really.  I need a shower, but I’m so shaky I
    think I’ll wait until Doug wakes so he can carry the little plastic
    camp shower bag down that long hallway after I fill it at the kitchen
    sink.

    When I take a breath, I can feel burbling sensations in my
    lungs.  I can hear the sounds of it, too.  The best word for
    how I feel is yucky, and that’s a whole lot better than how I felt
    yesterday.  My ears are itchy, deep down in my brain, and they’re
    oozing sticky wax–but my eyes aren’t watering as much as they had
    been.  If I can just make it through this infection without caving
    in to the comfort-food cravings, I’ll be okay.

     

  • Seasonal Signs


    Days are long, long, long and getting longer fast:  about sixteen hours now, leaving no doubt that hibernation time is over.  More light and more warmth are welcome.  The rapid change is somewhat disorienting for me, because I’m more attuned to sky and earth than to clock and calendar.


    The first mosquito hatch, the big bombers that move slowly and don’t make noise, is out.  Even if they manage to dip a snorkel in me, they don’t sting much and don’t leave welts.  Their presence is mostly just fair warning that the quick hardbodies with the mean whine and nasty bite are coming soon.  I often lose sleep while trying to hide under the covers from any of that hatch that gets in the house.  Arrggh!  I just don’t want to think about that right now.


    The climbing season on Denali (AKA Mount McKinley) has gotten an early start.  Yesterday, I heard that there were ten climbers on the mountain.  Two of them went missing last weekend, presumed gone down with an avalanche.  The search for the two Canadians was called off today.  They might have been found immediately, and might even have been rescued, but for a serious lapse in judgment on their part.  They had emergency locator beacons.  They left them in base camp.  Now the mountain has two more sets of bones.

  • NO WARNING!!


    I don’t know whether to wear a sign that says, “Don’t mess with me,” or one that says, “Go ahead, make my day.”


    I think my mind is in some sort of rebellious reaction against the “positive” programming I’ve been feeding my brain.  There are some pitfalls on that path to higher consciousness.  I’ve had to crawl out of one of them every day lately, ’round about 11 AM or Noon.


    I’ve zeroed in on one particular suggestion from the “energized and motivated” CD that has precipitated my fall(s).  It says I always do the most productive thing at each moment.  My productivity has improved since I’ve been listening to it.  I can’t dispute that.


    My problem is that I’m not really pleased with the quality of some of the things I’ve been producing in some of those hitherto wasted moments.  There was no problem with taking the jewelry tools and components to bed with me and making 16 pairs of earrings instead of reading myself to sleep last night.  I’ve been very pleased with what I’ve done in the web-content department, too.  But I really should wake up in the mornings before I try to answer email.


    I’m a person who wakes up slowly.  If an emergency rouses me from sleep, the adrenaline can usually get me going and I can put the fires out or whatever–been there, done that.  Later on, though, a headache always sets in when I’ve been awakened too quickly.  It has long been my practice to use the snooze button (until Doug graduated and I began shunning the alarm altogether) several times.


    I pick up the TV remote some mornings and let my engine warm up gradually, get the neurons firing to the sounds and sights of the morning news.  Used to be, I’d roll out of bed and get some food and coffee, then sit down at the PlayStation until the systems were up to working speed.  No hurry; I’m my own boss, eh?


    But I desired a little booster, something to help not only with the chronic fatigue, but to keep me ticking along with the webtools I’m learning, and that crazy thing I’m building over at KaiOaty’s place.  The motivational CDs have done their job.  I’ve no complaints there.


    The problem is that I need to get a handle on that “jump out of bed and go to work” mentality they’ve fostered.  My eyes can read my email even before I’ve had my coffee.  My fingers can even answer it, but where my brain is sometimes is a mystery.  Gotta find brain.


    It’s no big deal, really.  Self-exploration is a kick, maybe even more fun than the PS2.  Thinking about those lapses in higher reasoning that I experience early in the morning could lead to some interesting insights, providing I don’t try to do that thinking early in the morning.


    Meanwhile, since I really don’t know whether to warn people off or just egg them on, maybe it’s best to advise everyone to take anything I say before the second pot of coffee with a grain of salt.  That’s the key to a great pot of coffee, dontcha know–a wee dash of salt in every pot.


    BTW, I’m just about to get up and make the second pot, right now.


  • Breakup Blues


    Mud and the smell of defrosting dog droppings is making my beloved home neighborhood here less than attractive.


    Sometimes Alaska is not my #1 preferred place to be.  There’s nowhere else I’d rather live full-time, but it’s a big planet and no single place is the best to be every moment of every year.

    Native American Indian Men's Powwow Dancers

    Whenever I don’t want to be here, the place I do want to be is usually somewhere in the Four Corners area of the Lower 48, where I was at home in a series of my past lives, where my descendants from those lives still live, and where I have had many good times this time around.


    This week I’d like to be in Albuquerque.  Thursday is the Miss Indian World pageant.  Then Friday and Saturday is the 20th Annual Gathering of Nations PowWow.


    PowWow, Gathering of Nations 2003