Thursday, April 30, 2009

Doggin' in the Bluebells


This is my favorite time of year in the UK. Have I mentioned that? I probably have as each little thing that crops up makes me feel that much more thankful for my life. A year ago tomorrow I had my wedding #2. The wedding that everyone came to. The day after the wedding we all went for a walk through a coppiced birch forest. The forest floor was a thick carpet of bluebells. The beauty of bluebells is the mystical hue they cast from a distance. When driving down the beautiful Kent country lanes, what appears to be mist on the forest floor is actually these delicate blue flowers. I have looked forward to it each year, and this year was no exception.

We decided to go to a forest a half hour from our house. The walk is gorgeous and we saw the hint of what was to come when we walked through it a few months ago. We noticed something else about this forest. It is a flash back to the 1985 male gay scene. Each time we have gone the parking lot is full of cars. Each car has one man sitting it it, engine off. At first, when D suggested it might be a “dogging” site, I countered with it being lunch hour and these were probably guys who didn’t want to eat at the office. Mind you the closest town that has business men in it is about 20 minutes away. This time when we went we noticed a man come from an unmarked path. He got into his car and a few minutes later threw tissue paper out his car door. Then, from the same direction, came a younger man who got in his car and drove away. We were suspicious.

We went for our two and a half hour walk and didn’t encounter a single person.

You know, there is a stereotype that gay men have the best taste for locations on the planet. Although I am sure the stereotype wasn’t devised over dogging locals, it certainly wasn’t an exception.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Hamburger or Hot Dog?

Alone in the house I decided to start on some serious spring goal lists. I got a lot done today. More than I ever get done in a single day. Because I got so much done, I felt the need to share it with you, my dear friends. I need a pat on the back.

I managed to do a detailed clean of the kitchen including inside the oven. I did the bathroom with the toilet, the bathroom with the bath, the fridge closet. I planted carrots, broccoli, and beets. I took the cloche covering off the strawberry plants in hopes for some bee pollination to occur. I trimmed all of the bonsais (even the Canadian larch forest!). I did 4 loads of laundry and made it to the bottom of the basket… it only took 3 months! It is all hanging on the line right now. The warm spring sun removing all perfumed soaps and leaving only clean country air in our fabrics. I disinfected our new baby crib. I talked to my mum for an hour. I plucked my eyebrows! I even took time to have a nice cup of tea. If every day could be this productive my house might actually look clean. Alas, these days come only once in a while so I need to clean ‘till I drop. That is where I am now... dropping, slowly. The birds are having a party in our backyard and I have left the kitchen door open so I can listen to their song as I melt.

Every now and then I feel the baby move. It is all getting a bit more real. Perhaps that is why I was into cleaning up so much today. With baby furniture starting to slowly make its way into the house, I may be what they call… nesting! Our next scan is on Tuesday. If all goes well, we will find out the sex of our kid!

So what do you think it will be… a hamburger or a hot dog?

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

narcissus relative


In my newly acquired family, daffodils are a pretty big thing. The first year that I went to my in laws house I was shown a daffodil (in the greenhouse) that had flowered for the first time in over 30 years. It had been collected in some far away land- either Spain, Morroco, or France before I was even born! D’s father has been going on yearly trips to these places in search for the wild daffodils that grow on hillsides and in road ditches since D was a boy.

He breeds them, used to show them, and now judges others who show the breeds he created. It is interesting to think that without my father-in-law these two flowers would have never been around.


Sunday, April 12, 2009

Old Friends, New Places



We had a friend come down for a visit this weekend. The same friend who was in the termite hatching photo. A friend who I have known from a visa run to Penang, Malaysia that I took 5 years ago. Every three months I would have to leave Thailand and get a new visa. My friend had to do the same from Indonesia. The closest place to get a visa for the both of us was in Malaysia. It is normal to see the same people on your visa runs. This was a way that you could tell who was a worker in their respective adopted country and who was a tourist. Because I worked, I could only get a few days off every few months to get a visa. I couldn’t go to all the surrounding countries, or even explore Malaysia. I could explore one town in three day increments for the better part of four years. It was a way that people are judged in such circumstances. Who is more hardcore, more daring, more an adventurer. Who has been away longer, who can stay longer, who knows the language more, who eats the local food, who is over trying to be local. People sepperate out into these groups. The two week holiday folks, the year around the world folks, the English teachers, the long term workers, the non-working expats and the lifers. My friend and I were long term workers, long term meaning over a few years.



Shortly after I left Thailand my friend left Indonesia. We were both married within a half a year of each other and went through the joys of getting visas around the same time. We have known each other when we were single and now as married (with a baby on the way) and he, married (soon to be divorced). It is nice to share the worlds with someone. I had the opportunity to visit him in Indonesia and he visited me in Thailand. We have seen where the other has lived and we both know what a challenge it is to live in an eastern foreign country then acclimate to a western country afterwords. We don’t often reminisce anymore. It is in the background. This commonality of a very unique experience.

This short visit was limited by my energy level and his lack of time. We managed to get out into the orchards to see the plum blossoms in full bloom and the beginnings of the apples. We talked to the head farmer about the cycle of a cow’s life and about the grazing pastures that the sheep rotate in. Just as the rain started to sprinkle, we went for a nice walk around the National Pinetum. Life is a long way away from riding on the top of buses through Indonesian countryside.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Forest Anemones and the European Union Directive... big brother is watching.... run to the forest


Today, in a spare moment to pick up paving stones for our greenhouse, D and I found this little woodland paradise.

Only a kilometer from our house, the newly blossomed anemones saturated the forest floor.

Pulling the car off the road, clambering down a small bank, we cuddled hand in hand enjoying each other once again. It is always a good day when D comes back from a business trip.

It is nice to be able to have nature slapping us back into the beauty of life when the European Union Directive comes into effect. Even for me (a person who doesn't care much about Facebook privacy scares) the recording of website usage, email traffic, and calls to family using the internet is something I am worried about.
"A European Union directive, which Britain was instrumental in devising, comes into force which will require all internet service providers to retain information on email traffic, visits to websites and telephone calls made over the internet, for 12 months."


Dang!




Monday, April 6, 2009

The Quest to be Thin: For my Mum

Five years ago my mothers confession wouldn’t have bothered me. I would have thought it vain, but not at all unusual.

My mother is fat.

She has also been on a diet since she was 7 years old when her own mother would send her away to hospitals during her school breaks to be on -1000 calorie a day diets. You see, I don’t mean she has been on diets and sneaking in cookies on the side, in fact she doesn’t have a sweet tooth. My mum is a hard core dieter. She has tried the liquid diets. She has been on Weight Watchers a dozen times. In the 90s she went on phenphen and only went off it because it was banned for causing heart problems. That was the most she ever lost, about 50 pounds. She gained it back within months of going off the medication. So this weekend when she confessed to investigating the possibilities of getting weight loss surgery, I can’t say that I was surprised, I was just totally, through to my core, sad. I love my mother dearly, and although I can be pushy with my own beliefs, I don’t think my fat acceptance way of life will ever penetrate her 50 years of conditioning. Weight loss surgery is where I draw the line.

When I asked her if she had talked to anyone who has had the surgery, she said she had. Both people were only a year post-op. I suggested that she talk to a dear friend of mine who had to get her stomach removed, replaced and hasn’t been able to eat without throwing up for years. She can’t digest most foods and has to get IV nutrients given to her because she can’t get them from her food. She is heavier than she ever was prior to her operation. Of course, she “looked great” her first year after the operation.

“In the more than forty years that bariatric surgeries have been performed, there have been no randomized, controlled clinical trials that have shown any long-term improvements to actual health or that lives are saved or extended by these surgeries — not any of the dozens of types and variations being performed, and certainly none of the new procedures claiming to be better and safer.”

“The Mayo Clinic reported in 2000 that 20% to 25% of gastric bypass patients develop life-threatening complications, but the recent Lap-Band U.S. clinical trials done to earn FDA approval reported 89% of patients had at least one adverse event, one-third of them severe. Complications from lap bands are more likely to require surgery to correct and the bands result in so much more vomiting, they are known as “surgical-induced” bulimia among medical professionals. While many consumers believe the newer, less invasive laparoscopic bypasses and lap-band procedures (which tighten a constrictive band around the stomach to make it smaller) are safer, they merely have their own “unique set of complications,” according to surgeons Shanu N. Kothari, M.D., and Harvey J. Sugerman, M.D. writing in Healthy Weight Journal. Ulcerations and the bands eroding into the stomach can happen and usually are why the bands are not reversible or removable

“Most bariatric patients are subjected to a lifetime of severely calorie-restricted diets and are unable to eat a full variety of foods, with average calorie intakes under 1,000 calories the first year and after three years the average is still 1,386 calories. The unhealthfulness of long-term starvation-level diets (even uncomplicated by malabsorption) and protein shortages have been well proven to significantly shorten people’s lives. Vomiting after gastric bypass procedures occurs in up to 68.8% of cases and can become chronic, resulting in severe malnutrition, according to Brazilian surgeons in a 2005 study published in Obesity Surgery. Their study found weight loss was 10% higher among patients who become chronic vomiters.”


So that is all fine and good. I can imagine my mum, and others like her, who have been taunted and told that they are lazy, sick, and a crutch on society, that the risk of vomiting isn't that big of a deal. I can also imagine that the thought of eating less than 1000 calories a day is not daunting because I don't think my mother has eaten more than 1400 calories a day that since I knew how to calorie count myself (age 12). To be fair, not everyone has the chronic vomiting, not everyone has complications. Even if there is no proof that they help you beyond you being lighter, there is the chance you might be able to shop in a store that isn’t just for fat people. Something I can tell you, now that I am pregnant, would be a blessing. Even if I could wrap my head around that, my mother’s motivating goal is life span. She wants to be around for her grandchildren.

"based on studies of nearly 63,000 operations presented at the American College of Surgeons 2003 Clinical Congress, surgeons reported that an average of 2% of patients die within the first 30 days as a direct result of their primary surgery, but rates were as high as 6% with some surgeons and medical centers. Other surgeon reports have found mortality rates are three times higher in patients over age 55, three times higher in African Americans than whites, 2.8 times higher for men than women, and highest among patients who are the most “obese” (up to 12.5 times higher for laparoscopic gastric bypasses) — the very patients the surgeries are supposedly to help.”


“The most objective mortality data available to date was in a study published in JAMA, led by Dr. David R. Flum, M.D., MPH, of the Department of Surgery at the University of Washington, Seattle. They looked at actual 1-year death rates for all Medicare beneficiaries who had had bariatric surgeries in Medicare-approved centers from 1997 to 2002. Of the 16,000 patients, with an average age of only 35-54 years, death rates at one year averaged 4.6%, but among patients 65 to 74 years old, nearly 13% of the men and about 6% of the women died. In patients 75 and older, half of the men and 40% of the women had died.”

“To put these numbers into perspective, by comparison, a coronary bypass has a 2.6% mortality rate, yet those are mostly done on elderly patients who are seriously ill with multiple health problems. “



“The American Society of Bariatric Surgery estimated 177,600 bariatric surgeries were performed in 2005. Tallying the mortality rates found for each age and gender found in the study by Dr. Flum and colleagues, about 8,000 people died from these surgeries in 2005, two-thirds women. Frequently cited is that these surgeries are life-saving and that the risks of dying from the surgeries are less than those from their “obesity.” Certainly prospective patients believe this for themselves, too.”

So when my mother considers butchering herself for the sake of her grandchildren, I can't help but wonder when the finger pointing at fat people is going to stop. If it ever stops during my mothers lifetime, I doubt it will sink in. I come from a family that celebrates weight loss. Where talking about what diet you are on and how fantastic you look as a result, are ways of showing love. No one ever puts you down if you are fat, but you get a lot of love if you are trying to lose weight. I am in fierce defense of my mother, because I think she represents many fat people. She works out regularly, she eats a very low calorie diet, she hates the way she looks, she thinks it is going to kill her.

She thinks this way because of what you tell her.

When you compliment her on looking good, and ask her if she has lost weight.

When you tell her about the diet that worked so well for your colleagues.

When you congratulate her on losing weight.

When you have ads that have people crying at their new found happiness once they are thin.

When you tell her that beauty is on the inside.

When you yell "fat pig" at her when she crosses the street.

When you say that she is unworthy of dressing in fashion because she is fat and don't provide clothing made beyond a size 22.

When you make all plus sized clothing available only online because it takes up too much room on the shop floor.

When you compliment her on her healthy choices when she is at the check out till at the grocery store.

When you laugh at her when she pushes herself out of her car or needs a hand getting up off the ground.

When you presume her knee ache is because she is fat.

When you consider her week and without self control.

The only way my mother, and millions like her, don't exhibit self control is that they participate in the same mentality as you (the media/society). Fat people (overweight, obese and morbidly obese), according to the same media, are over half the population in the USA. If this is the case, they are the majority allowing the minority to make them feel like they are unworthy.

I wish my mother could face her value. I wish she could see her body for what it is. A beautiful tool. One that has been told it is not up to par for all of her life. It is no wonder her measures are getting more extreme.

In the end, being fat will probably kill her. But not in the way she thought.

*All quotes are from this Junkfood Science article.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

This week has been everything from friends with brain cancer to finding out my mum was going to have weight loss surgery without telling me. The surreal nature of it all is slow to unravel and deeply personal. I did, however, get some of my pottery from the kiln.

Friday, April 3, 2009

Cumbrian Walks








Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Daffodils by By William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

The following poem was written after Wordsworth found these wild daffodils on the side of the road in Ullswater, Cumbria. After a powerful weekend, this little burst of calm sunshine was a welcome break prior to the seven hour drive back to the farm.

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.