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Weight History
showing entries 61 to 65 of 268
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18 June 2022
It’s a primal thing. I swam too far out today. The sea mingled with the sun.
“L’éternitéeee,” my son used to tease me as I contemplated on swimming toward the sunset aka oblivion. I get my son and my brother mixed up in my dreams.
Fort Fisher, NC
(97 comments)
18 June 2022
BMI 18.4
Weigh-in:
100.4 lb
lost so far:
26.6 lb
still to go:
0 lb
Diet followed reasonably well
(4 comments)
losing 0.1 lb a week
11 June 2022
(CBC was renamed by humpT, it is now Crap Bike Club. I like it 🚴)
For a moment I thought about writing a story of old crusty Pendergraft. I used to sell pirate lottery tickets from the counter of a shady bodega that was run by a lawless Chinese family in Belize City, and Pendergraft always bought the exact same number at 5pm. His number never won. Bitterly he would mutter in Creole:
Wanti wanti no gati, gati gati no wanti
Jesus. It is beginning to sound absurd already, so I am now opting against illustrating the outrageousness of this lovable Creole curmudgeon. I’m just going to tell you that, Pendergraft owned a rusty Mary Poppins bicycle and he used it as his transportation even when his destination was only a block away. The front basket would carry anything and he would never lose balance. Lord knows what was in the basket, the burden du jour always looked quite hefty and pointless. Yet off he went due north daily without doubting a single aspect of his life. His pedaling was absolutely steady and fabulously slow, it was almost stationary.
He never trusted me, for I did not speak Creole, and he felt compelled to keep a watchful eye on me to ensure that I would not corrupt hormonal teenagers. Every afternoon I walked home for a short siesta, and he accompanied me on his Mary Poppins. The dusty gravel road met us with tropical flowers and I’d stop and smell them, which irritated Pendergraft. “Chinagal, you’re dumber than my dog, all day smellin, sniffin” “What dog? You don’t have a dog.” Pendergraft said his friend did.
Our stroll was so slow that every step felt like a still life picture. Once an iguana crossed in front of us, standing upright using his hind legs. I didn’t know iguanas walked like that. The air was as dense as jello and even mosquito swarms seemed languishing. Children played aimlessly without hope. Carcasses of fish and emaciated animals floated quietly in the black odorous water of the river below us. Belize City was always filled with the scent of death back then. I developed courage to face harshness of life by breathing the moist, fetid air of this tiny nation that suffered from neocolonialism.
The river this morning on the trail was green and odorous. I bicycled through the air that was ripe with the scent of birth and decay. Turtles are laying eggs this week. I came across one, her shell was covered in algae, she walked along my crap bike for a few feet, prompting me to think about the odd friendship I had with Pendergraft, who was too proud to admit that all he wanted to do was to shield me from hollow catcalls of idle men drowned in Belikin stout and hopelessness.
(87 comments)
04 June 2022
The fearsome thunderstorm last night promised many splendors on my bike “path” at the sunrise, and I wasn’t going to miss them. Turned out, the storm also brought perils. My cheap bike thrusted into a deep water puddle like a diving U-boat (jawohl Herr Kaleun!) Well, as the wheels got caught in slime and started skidding in every direction, I no longer knew if it was a water puddle or a quickmud or the entrance to the first circle of hell. A great blue heron was watching. With his monk-like discipline he observed that I managed to regain equilibrium without falling in the mud. The heron nodded approvingly, opened his immense wings in a slow motion and he was gone. Simply breathtaking. I regret he can’t say the same about me.
Ornithology du jour
Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias)
Wing span 6.5 feet
(62 comments)
29 May 2022
Sacagawea embarked on her very first kayak voyage today. The rental booth lad was not concerned. “Just wing it,” said he. Briefly I regretted my ponytail; I should have worn my signature pigtails to invoke the Shoshone’s navigation aptitude. Oh well, off I went.
The river was calm. The birds were gliding a few inches above the water surface. Turtles were sunbathing. The craft appeared to respond well to my will. Maybe too well. This Sacagawea was always drawn to those partially submerged trees, and they were particularly alluring today that I went too close to the tangled vegetation against my better judgment. That’s when I remembered. Moving water is powerful and I am a mere dust in this universe. In other words, my kayak was trapped. Just because it was trapped does not mean that the kayak remained stationary. It kept moving towards more ominous direction. My priority at that point was to protect my eyes from those merciless tree branches that looked so lovely from the distance. Water splashed on my face and it was salty. On a positive note, I got to sight an alligator (!) but I was more worried about my drill sergeant’s wrath. He did not think I was ready for unsupervised activities and it appeared that I was proving him right. But please be fair. I remained calm. Water can be your friend, you just have to let it do its thing. When I was six I almost drowned and I remember that I instinctively let water carry me, which saved my life. Today water was kind to me again, it extricated my kayak and the view ahead of me eventually became free of obstacles.
I am really really hoping that my life somehow corrects its direction too. I want to see a view without obstacles for once. Can water help me see that? Is that why I placed myself near the ocean?
Sacagawea, per Wikipedia, “had become sickly and longed to revisit her native country.”
(The alligator photo is dedicated to @TJHenggeler🎸)
(56 comments)
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