Vanier, Bodies, Garbage

It's been an exhausting few days. Only 5 hours sleep a couple of nights in a row, with a cat who seems bound and determined to make the last two hours of sleep intermittent. Last night I just crashed out at about 10, and tonight I think I'll do the same. And tomorrow night. And maybe the night after too.

Between the lack of sleep and writing, I'm finding myself without a whole lot in the tank. That means more lists for you.

1) Meditation Is Stressing Me Out

I'm halfway through the mindfulness clinic. I'm finding it interesting, and I think I'd probably get a lot more out of it if I actually engaged with the homework. Some of the homework is a half hour of breathing or body scan meditation. I'm cool with that, obviously, I think it's a good thing to do. But I don't have an extra half hour. That half hour comes out of food prep, or physical activity, or hanging out with friends (email included), or writing and blogging. I don't want to give up a half hour of those things.

Also, it's in Vanier. You know what I hate? It's not Vanier, which I'm sure would be a nice place to live if you never had to leave it. Because getting there and back nearly drives me to distraction. The 12 is the bus from hell, as far as I'm concerned. It's either late or runs a different route and always has at least one person on it who is entirely and loudly obnoxious.

Though today I left the clinic feeling worn the fuck out anyway. So maybe, when I eventually got on the bus, wasn't actually so loud that I had to close my eyes and plug my ears and concentrate on my breath going in and out of my nose. Just another crazy lady on the bus. But at least my crazy was quiet.

2) I'm Hoping It's Short

Part of the reason I left feeling worn out is because I'm having one of my intermittent periods of Severe Body Hatred, and it cropped up fiercely in the first round of meditation when we were sitting cross-legged for 20 minutes during which it felt like someone was slowly inserting a white hot rod alongside my right scapula.

The SBH, however, started with the fact that I've gained about 15 pounds over the winter. I can tell myself all I want that it's fine, that I'm a healthier weight now, that I like round curvy bodies, but what I can tell you is that I am frustrated by my new body. My clothes don't fit it properly. I was used to my old body. I liked my old body.

It's not just the weight though, because I also remember quite clearly weighing more than this and being happy with it. I've been through this before, this shift from skinny to thin, and I've always had this reaction when I'm getting used to the new state. What it tells me is that if I have to talk myself down from the "I'm fat!" reaction, then our world is some fucked.

So if it's not just the next size up, what is it? My damn shins. I can't run any more and I am FURIOUS with how unfair that is. It makes me feel like throwing a tantrum, in fact. It's not like I was a marathon runner, or was graceful or fast or anything like that. I shuffle along like an old lady. But god, it kept me sane, it kept me in my body and my brain working reasonably happily along with it.

Until it broke my body, at any rate.

I can shift to biking, I know. But it's not the same. The seagull apocalypse is a blur when you're going by it at bike speed. Same with smells, the sound of the water. If I do it enough times, it will eventually becomes a part of me the way my shuffling was. But it's hard to make that kind of transition. It's always hard to make new habits. But I'm feeling crazy, and I know this kind of crazy will be fixed by two runs in the outside and a couple yoga classes.

Which I haven't started back on since the tattoo. Sunday though. I'm almost healed.

3) Triple Purpose

Composting at the organic gardens was a revelation to me, revealed by one Black M. I ran into her one day, a bag full of garbage, and asked her where she was going.

"To the compost," she said.
"Man, I wish I could compost," I replied. "But there's no place to put one at our house."
"No, us either. I'm taking it to the garden over on Rochester."
"What?"
"Yeah, they have huge bins there. I take my bag over, dump it, and then they have a garbage bin right there for the bag."

It was like a light from heaven shone down on me. I've been doing it ever since, though I have a tupperware container in my fridge, since there is a hell of a lot more room in my fridge than on my counters. Depending on the day of the week, there's sometimes more compost in our fridge than edible food.

Although, as I discovered not long ago and long long long after I should have, you can make vegetable stock from your compost.

Vegetable stock is like iced tea. As Jennifer has quoted, it's three ingredients! Why would you buy a weird smelling chemical that you stir water and ice into when you can pour water on a tea bag and add ice?

And really, when consider that ice and water are pretty much the same thing, it's only two ingredients.

Like veggie stock. You can agonize over low sodium or high sodium or what all chemicals are in what stock, or you can pay a zillion dollars for a wee organic cube that you have to add two measly cups of water to, or.

Or, you can put one part of your garbage in a pot and boil it in two parts water.

Don't throw out those squinchy mushrooms you forget what you were going to do with! Put them in a pot! Dig out the fennel trimmings and the onion bits out of the tupperware! Wash off those coffee grounds! Why not this apple core too! And sure, why not one of those perfectly good green onions that you know will be in the compost in a week because you hate them. And that carrot is edible, possibly, but very hairy. In you go, carrot.

I cannot tell you how thrilled I am about this. My only problem is that there's only so much vegetable stock one person needs.