I’ll figure it out, thanks!
So as to lessen some thread drift:
WTF, Doug? That’s what my wife said to me the last time I fasted at home. Eating and drinking has always had an overly-large presence in our relationship, and I work away from home most of the time.
She’s quite the sugar addict and carbaholic, and she’ll have to come to ketogenic eating in her own time. She needs it, and knows it to an extent, but I can’t push much - I’ll readily go into the standard keto approach, the carbohydrate-insulin hypothesis, etc., and it’s “Doug, I’m not in the mood for a lecture today…”
In the back of her mind, though…
WTF, Doug? That’s what she said after my first serious go with keto and fasting, when she hugged me - her arms went so far around me.
After 2+ years in a home with sugar burners, Mrs Dipper now knows I won’t eat the sugar and on her own when we eat out vetoes carb-only places. She enjoys fatty treats I make like cheese crisps and such, but won’t make the plunge herself.
The main source of friction these days is when friends are over drinking, or when our boss and coworkers invite us all out. Been sober for almost 2 years now and it’s just not fun being around that crowd any more.
It’s definitely different when one ain’t drinkin’…
I’ve found though, that since going keto and limiting my drinks to coffee and tea and water, that when we’re all out, I’ll indulge in some diet coke and it actually helps me be more sociable. How about that?
Maybe it’s just the Coca-Cola indoctrination being triggered, Have a Coke and a Smile™
I’ve seen people not drinking alcohol pretty well stay with the mood, among those who are. Doesn’t always work, and doesn’t work at all with some other people, but perhaps things are a bit infectious?
If you don’t drink, and you don’t socialise, these things aren’t issues.
Watching them all go somewhere else can be a bit unnerving, and lonely too, if there’s no one sober left to talk to.
Meh, my default state is being a hermit, I’m at my happiest by myself.
It’s already mentally draining to be around people! Sartre said it best, Hell is other people! Must’ve been an INTJ, too.
I am a verified 100% INFJ according to the offical Myers-Briggs. Finding that out actually helped me a lot. I always thought there was something wrong with me, but it turns out I’m just legitimately weird!
I took their official test, and also 3 or 4 other non-officials, through the span of a number of years and I always came out INFJ. I researched extensively all the personlities and none fit like that.
I’d say same results over a long period, using multiple test platforms is accuracy rnough for me, homes.
I don’t believe I’ve ever taken the actual inventory, only the “lite” Internet versions, but I come out pretty consistently the same type (INFP), even though the on-line tests are supposed to be much less accurate. But that’s probably because I’m a Cancer.
Some brush to burn. Even though it was Easter Sunday, the Cat Supervisor was on duty at my brother’s place.
Early afternoon semi-aftermath; stumps still to burn, a long process.
Horse-drawn wagon, after sitting in the woods for 100 or 150 years.
Intense heat. The wood is Osage Orange, native to parts of the southwestern U.S. - Texas, Oklahoma, and Arkansas - planted to make hedgerows and windbreaks. It has proven invasive and quite a pest, in this case in the midwestern U.S. state of Ohio. Heavy, amazingly tough - and with astounding strength, especially when dried. I’m strong and have broken many a pole or fairly large branch across a knee, but it’s shocking how small an Osage Orange branch can be and resist me.
Sundown. Stumps still remain…
Looks like a busy day, the kind of day you feel the next.
Years back, I lucked upon a one-off leftover Riedel wineglass for $5 in a sorry winestore in Wheeling, West Virginia, U.S.A. The Wine-Searcher website opened my eyes to the widely variable pricing that was and is operating in the U.S., and I never bought another bottle of wine around those parts again. That glass though - the stem was four little round glass columns fused together, made it feel like a "square’ with rounded corners, oh-so-comfortable. The bowl was very thin crystal, a joy to drink out of. Holding the glass, like a finely-crafted knife or gun, you felt the balance, you felt that much was right with the world.
On March 6, I finally did it - I broke that glass. Ironic that I wasn’t even drunk - after all the enormous fills it’d had (the damn thing would hold most of a standard bottle of wine) - all the Guinnesses, all the brutal gin and vodka concoctions I’d filled it with… One small glass of white wine around 7 p.m. and then a modest fill of red wine about 10 p.m. Like an idiot, I kept it right on my computer desk, and before 11 p.m. I turned to the right with some speed, and backhanded the glass off the desk and onto the floor. I had dreaded that moment like I dread the death of my parents, and I’ve thought about the occurrence many times in the past, likely to somehow hopefully dilute the horror of its true appearance.
There is no real “getting over it,” however - for decades I’ve been confronted with the fact that it’s only a relatively few possessions (if that) that make us happy, not to mention that “too much stuff” is often a recipe for misery. I’ve got an old brass ship’s lantern - a great mighty thing, in fact - made in Dunbarton, Scotland, in 1816 - and that’s my second-favored possession, and even there I’ve never been moved to fill it with oil and light it up. 21 years it’s been like that. That wineglass, though - ha, you talk about something getting used…
Most things change, and there are any number of parallels one can draw here. The next day was really fine for my wife and I, and we had a great dinner with good people, food and drinks par excellence. Later, however, I was sitting at home, without that glass, “things will never be the same.”
A rounded square stem on a wine glass. That is brilliant. I never even held it and I am mourning it’s loss.