Apple Diet After Math

The three-day apple diet was endured. Yeah, not bad, except in maddening fits when habits drive hunger. Like relaxing, watching television or reading in the evening invites a food companion. Not anything big but the apple slices weren’t satisfying in those moments.

That was rare, though. I’m satisfied with results. I suffer from edema brought on by Amlodipine taken to manage my high blood pressure. Apples only for three days had a dramatic impact. Likewise, as I’ve aged, mild bloating plagues me. That disappeared. And I felt damn fine. I’d recommend it to others.

Rising yesterday morning, I wasn’t hungry and ate breakfast a little later than usual. Energy level was high. I didn’t have any dramatic urges or desires to stuff myself. For dinner, we enjoyed fish with seasoned boiled potatoes, steamed broccoli, and a salad.

The cats rose up. “Fish! Real food. At last, we have been delivered from our suffering.” They charged my plate, leaping up onto the table. They know they’re not allowed on the table.

My response: “Get down. Back. This is my food. You don’t see me going after your food.”

They all jumped down and scattered back a few feet. The head floof said, “You can eat my kibble any time you want. I’ll trade.”

I told him I’d passed. He walked away, muttering to himself, tail swishing.

I don’t think he was happy.

Apple Diet, Day Three

After enjoying scrambled eggs with bacon, toast, and hash browns, I returned to the apple diet. Then I awoke from my dream.

A pattern emerged regarding my hunger. I eat breakfast within my first hour of being awake. You know, bathroom, feed cats, shower-shave-dress, and then breakfast. Day 1 of the AD, I ate apples for breakfast, but was hungry throughout the day, and ended the day hungry. On the second day, I didn’t get hungry until about three in the afternoon. Today, I wasn’t hungry until noon, but I was then ravenous. Television viewing affected it today. I watched NFL football. Any idea how many times food commercials are shown during NFL games? They’re all about pizza and fast food. I don’t eat meals from fast-food restaurants, but I enjoy burgers and pizza.

Granny Smith apples are at the bottom of my apple list. Just so damn sour. Think sour Gummis. Sour Patch Kids. Lemons which aren’t ripe. Grapes that aren’t ripe. An IPA with high IBUs. I adjusted by cutting my GS up first thing in the morning, and then eating a slice or two with the other apples.

The cats have learned that I’m not eating anything interesting. Using their noses and sound cues, they’ve quickly adjusted to the new diet and don’t come around to see what’s on my plate.

I’m already planning my first meal after this is over. Anyone want a Granny Smith? I have one left. They’re really good. Trust me.

Thursday’s Theme Music

Hello, sojourners, here we go, another Thursday, the final Thursday of December and 2021. That’s a lot to put on any day of the week, to be the last of its kind. Let’s hope Thursday endures.

It’s December 20 and 33 degrees F here in Ashland, up from the overnight low of 24. Snow…yes, we have some. Want some? Snow flurries expected today but so too is a high of 40. The sun popped in with an early morning show at 7:39 AM before yielding the sky to clouds. When we reach 4:48 PM, the world will turn away from the sun again, putting its reach beyond our horizons.

I’m singing along to “Coconut” by Harry Nillson as it plays in the morning mental music stream. The trigger was the breakfast oatmeal breakfast ritual where a last-minute ingredient was coconut. Coconut went quite well with the chopped figs and dates, cranberries, walnuts, sunflower, and pumpkin seeds already residing in there, along with brown sugar. The song is a fun novelty song about being sick, calling a doctor, and a lime and a coconut. Good singalong song as the lyrics are darn simple.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and the vax and boosters when you can. We still have 796 people requiring a shot to reach 80% in my zip code. It’s slowly trickling down as cases shoot up.

Here’s the music. Time for the coffee quest. Cheers

The New Wife Dream

I was given a new wife. I don’t know what happened to my wife and why this was necessary, but a bald white man in a gray business suit looked at a clipboard and made the proclamation in a broad, airy conference room. My new wife was the younger sister of a high school girlfriend. She’d been two years behind me in school.

My new wife and I shook hands and talked. She was as I remembered her, and wore a white blouse. She was pleased with the new relationship. So was I.

She and I went out and sat down on the ground, on white cement. I discovered then that I worked for the Pittsburgh Steelers. The current quarterback, Big Ben Roethlisberger — in uniform — walked up to us and enthused, “How cool it was to see me walking down the tunnel when I was coming up after the game. I’d thrown for 375 yards, four touchdowns, and no interceptions. It was a great game.”

While talking with Ben, we discovered a commercial was being made. We zipped down and watched a fraction of it — something to do with cars, and it used a superball to identify the cars by bouncing the ball off them — and then zipped back to our space on the white cement. The superball being used took off from the shoot location. As it shot by, I grabbed it to return to the shoot. Ben was amused. “They have people to chase those balls down, and they probably have a hundred of the balls.” That made sense. I felt sheepish.

A woman came by looking for me and my new wife. She and I were selected to participate on some special research team.

My new wife and I left, though. Going down to another part of the building, we discovered new cars were on sale. My wife wanted one, so she picked out a small but sporty gray sedan and took it for a test drive. I walked alongside her as she drove it around. I then saw motorcycles for sale. After checking one out, I asked for permission to take it outside for a test ride. That was granted, so I zipped around outside. The motorcycle was not large, but it had strong acceleration, knobby tires, and a comfortable ride. I was pleased and decided I would buy it.

We went into the dining room to get something to eat. It was set up with a buffet line. Not many people were there. I took the last of the baby carrots with peas in butter sauce. I was really excited to get them. A man in a suit showed up. He wanted me to pay for the meal by putting it on my room. I explained to him that we weren’t staying there, that I was a new member. That’s where the dream ended.

Four Dreams

I awoke between these dreams and thought about them before returning to sleep. Probably remember them because it was slumber interruptus brought on by a nameless ginger boy (Papi – yeah, I named him) who, suffering from rainditis, wanted in and out of the house from four to seven AM.

The first dream was very sexy and erotic. I met several people at a bar, including a short woman with dark, short hair. She was wearing a purple shirt. I complimented her on it. When we began talking, we had an immediate connection. She revealed she was a schoolteacher. Eventually, while having drinks, we moved away from the others, and she proposed that we go have sex. I declined, explaining that I was married. She kept making suggestive remarks, touching me, stroking my face and arm, promising me that she’d be discreet, and no one would ever know. We kissed. I told her that was a mistake and left. I found my wife, who was out shopping. The woman walked by. She was with another man. My wife remarked that she looked familiar. I began telling her, I want you to know that she and I kissed. But my wife interrupted me while I was speaking, and I didn’t finish the confession. She continued shopping. The dream ended and I awoke. I thought about the dream, fell asleep, and began dreaming again.

I was in an art class in the second dream. I was the only student. The teacher was a young woman. Her shoulder-length black hair was glossy but then, watching her, I realized that the right half of her hair was dyed dark blue. Her hair curved up, becoming feathery. A white woman, she was wearing a purple top.

She was administering a test to me. I finished it very quickly. When she saw that I was finished, she came around to grade it. I told her that I probably hadn’t done very well, maybe a seventy or eighty, because I was preoccupied with trying to understand a dream that I’d had. I then woke up.

For the third dream, I was in a large farmhouse with many people. I knew some but many were strangers. Most were families staying there like me, temporarily, but it was a place where I used to live. In this dream, I was thinking about the first dream that I’d had and what it meant. Trying to find some privacy to think, I went into a bedroom. It turned out to be a suite and some other people were staying there. I started apologizing, only to realize that no one was in there except a black dog. I went back into the main part and began walking around, still thinking about the dream. Another guest asked me what was wrong. I didn’t want to tell about the dream, so I told her that I was having problems with a project. I’d created a film that was part stop-action, part live-action, and part art. I then started trying to explain this more, bringing out a video player and playing the work on a screen, and complaining that I couldn’t get it to work right. She thought it was a technical issue and contacted a woman to come and help. She said this was a technical expert who could fix anything. The expert turned out to be a short, stocky, dark-haired young woman. I explained my problem and she began working on it. We were interrupted when others came in with food. I awoke.

In the fourth dream, I was walking, wandering a city, trying to understand the first dream. The city was unusual, one with a series of elevated sidewalks connecting buildings. The sidewalks were high above railroad tracks, streets, and highways. The arrangement reminded me of M.C. Escher paintings. The walks were sometimes no wider than a steel girder, although the walks were always made of white concrete. I was walking randomly along them, often making ninety degree turns, with no idea where I was going, but not caring.

When I made one turn, I ended up walking into a crowd of girls. They were by a doorway. I veered around them to continue but realized that I was entering a private residence. Stopping, I said, “Oh my God, what am I doing? This isn’t my house. I have no right to enter.” The girls — probably five or six in number, all teenagers, and wearing shades of purple — were mostly indifferent or irritated by my presence, but one laughed about what I’d done and commiserated with my situation. She asked if I wanted something to eat. I replied, “No, but I’ll take a milkshake if there are any.” She gave me a vanilla shake. I drank it down, really enjoying it, then left.

I ended up at a small food stand in a large hall being run by a short, elderly man with a bushy black and gray mustache. Nothing else was there. Although I had consumed a milk shake earlier, I ordered a milkshake and a cheeseburger. He said, “These are really popular.” He handed me a shot glass and a small plate with a silver-dollar sized burger on it. I handed him a twenty and gazed at what he’d presented me. He returned two dollars in change, which I gave him as a tip, even as I thought, that’s a lot of money for this tiny meal.

Then I recalled reading about this milkshake and burger, that they’re supposed to be energy boosters that also elevated your thinking and intelligence. I downed the milkshake and swallowed the burger in one bite – it was that small. I discovered that I was at a theater; the burger and shake had cost so much because it included a theater ticket. I went in.

The stage was in the center of several elevated levels. I went up to the highest to find a seat. White tables and chairs lined the levels, which had a thin, metal handrail. The tables were occupied. I found one where an old friend was sitting with several empty chairs. I asked if I could sit there but he said, “No, I’m saving those for other people.” I sat with a laugh, telling him that I’d move when they came, which upset him.

A young woman passed. She was speaking with her mother. I noticed that she wore purple. She said that some old guy had interrupted their study session when he’d tried walking into her friend’s house. I realized that she was speaking about me and tried to eavesdrop. My old friend began talking, though, telling me that he was worried about his son. The OF looked the same as when I last saw him, almost forty years ago. He was telling me that his son was having problems, that he thought he might be suicidal. I listened, trying to offer supportive words. The OF invited me to go have something to eat with him. I accepted although I wasn’t hungry, because I’d just eaten. We went down to a restaurant. I ordered a milkshake.

The dream ended.

The Prophecies Dream

I was invited to participate in a picnic with a number of families. It wasn’t a large gathering, perhaps thirty people. Adults and children, both sexes, very casual, being conducted at a tall apartment building where the all lived. I was invited specifically to answer questions about prophecies. In the dream, I thought nothing of it and felt quite prepared to answer questions and explain prophecies.

First, though, we ate. Mountains of food – BBQ chicken and ribs, salads including potato salad, corn on the cob, burgers and hot dogs, along with plenty to drink. The food was great and I ate my share, though I was warned to save room for dessert. A presentation by a couple people followed. Then, I was asked to explain why what they’d prophesized in the presentation was wrong. Before I could speak, though, dessert was called for. Everyone walked and milled about, finding themselves a piece of pie or cake. Several men approached me and asked if they could quiz me on some other prophecies because they’d heard me speak before. Sure, no problem, I said. But before that could take place, they were interrupted by their children and the little meeting broke up.

I waited to answer questions but everyone went down to play whiffle ball in the backyard. Adults and children were playing. It was a crowded, narrow green field with a white split rail fence to one side. They talked me into playing. The rule is, you were at bat until you hit the ball into the field of play. I was first up and hit the first pitch, a long line drive that only managed to be a single. Getting to first base, I laid down while the next person took his swings. He finally got a hit but I wasn’t paying attention by then. I finally managed to leap up to run but instead said, “Know what? This just proves that I shouldn’t be playing. I’m sorry.” I walked off then, going back upstairs.

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