Life Is Selfish…

…and thank goodness for that bit. The moment life stops being self-centered, death comes and steals the show. Nothing against death, who looks so chic in all her black and bone motifs. But… some of the best feels require some flesh.

Like coffee, can you see me delighting in coffee without using some tongue?
Exactly! Tongueless coffee might be joyless (and, perhaps, impossible),
especially on cloudy days (when we want to grin even if the sun is in a mood).

Anyhoo, life wants more Magaly for herself (who can blame her? I’m freaking awesome), and I must indulge her wants. No major changes. Just that I’ll post stories and poems only on Tuesdays. But worry not (well, maybe a bit), since I promise (threaten?) to stalk you on Facebook and Instagram every single day.

And for the 13 or 31 of you who are not on Facebook or Instagram, I shall post FB and Insta recaps (photos, poem bits, random rants) every other week or so. These recaps shall include writing updates and riotous ramblings about what I (and one of my parasols) get up to in The Woods and in The City.

 

the recaps and rambles will look something like this:

Last year, my Piano Man got me a red parasol.
I love it (not just because it’s red), but because it makes everything cooler.
Also, someone on FB said the pattern looks like veins and arteries,
which makes it cooler in a whole new way.

 

The pomelo seedling below was birthed from a fruit I ate some months ago…
I’m wondering if the tea (I hope to get from its leaves) will be just as sweet.
The wee stone in the pot followed me home from Friday Harbor.

in the spring,
soft leaves and heart stones
grow beauty

 

writing and stuff…
– I am rewriting some of my old stories and poems, trying to decide which collection to publish first. Or if I want to go for a twosome. We shall see…

What about you, my Luvs, what have you and life been up to these days?

Desugaring My Coffee

I love sugar. Sweets might be my only dietary vice. I like bread and enjoy a bit of wine. But I can go months without bread and often forget to drink the glass of wine I promised myself I would have. But… raw sugar, sweetening the heat of my black French vanilla coffee? That bit of heavenly knowledge dances forever alluring in the heart of my taste buds. It’s reveille in a cup.

Some years ago, while my doctors where trying to figure out if some of the foods I ingested were responsible for my tummy misery, I was instructed to have my coffee without sugar or milk. I hate milk, so that was easy. I tried a cup of coffee without sugar, spat it out, and cursed my gastroenterologist in the most creative ways I could imagine—and I’m really good at imagining.

I quit coffee…
…for about a year.

Tests and time said sugar was not the problem. So, coffee and I sipped and made up. It was a glorious moment in Magaly life. If you followed this blog at the time, you probably read my screams of delight. I celebrated for days.

This could be the reason why both my nutritionist and gut doctors gave me such strange looks when I told them, “I’ve decided to desugar my coffee.”

If you know me, and thought about my desugaring decision for a moment, you’re probably not as surprised as they were. I despise being forced to do things, but I love challenges—they are great at reminding you (and yes, by “you” I mean “me”) that you are alive and kicking and grinning madly.

Also, I like carrying around between 128 and 131 pounds. More than that is hard on the breathing department And, of course, as my flesh and bones and mind and I shimmy sexily towards vintagehood, staying in balance with our favorite jeans can’t quite happen while sucking on sugar. I like my jeans.

I started desugaring a week and a half ago. First, I reduced 1 of the 3 sugars I took in my coffee. Next Tuesday, I’ll go down to 1.5 teaspoons of sugar. I will continue cutting half a spoon until I get to, um… half. Then I shall half and half and half again… until my coffee is just hot, dark, and delicious.

Giving up sugar in my coffee is not particularly easy, not at all.

But tough things are much easier to do (even enjoy) if we are the ones who decide to do them. It’s almost like ending a long friendship with someone you know to be toxic but have remained friends with because they brought you some pleasure. When another friend says, “Let that energy vampire go or else!” You cross your arms and bare your teeth and hold the bloodsucker closer to your neck. You might even let it go, but rarely happily.

But, my Wicked Luvs, when you are the one choosing to ram in the stake, sugar turns to dust… and you realize that few things are as pleasurable as detaching a leech is a leech is a leech (regardless of how funny it can be).

I’m not quitting added sugars completely. But after coffee and I are totally happy in our hot and unsweetened darkness, I will continue the desugaring with yogurt. If my daring persists, I might even move on to steel cut oats.

Tell me about your dietary vice(s), my Wicked Luvs. Have you (or would you) ever seriously consider choosing to give up something you enjoy, in order to feel more comfortable in your garb (and, perhaps, in your lungs)?

 

all right, so I can’t remember the last time I bought coffee at Starbucks
(mostly because I don’t like coffee made by anyone but me),
but The Force was just too strong with this photo not to share it with you

 

Fall in the Coffee Cherry

“You have no seasons in that small island of yours,” she says, with a smile that stinks of nurtured ignorance and mirth-rich malice. “That is why your people migrate to our lands, right? Searching for more, wanting better, needing our green Springs and the vivid orange of our Falls? So sad.”

For a fiery moment, I taste her nasty thoughts wanting to crawl into my words. But I magic the flames into a knowing grin—she shan’t pull her rot out of my tongue. And I speak my truth: “In my small island, Fall sleeps in the reds of the coffee cherry. We arouse it awake with our fingers, berry by berry, until our baskets are full of warming cups. We drink October all year long. And so do you. But the taste buds of your spirit are dead. So you fail to notice. So very sad.”

the reddest berries
lose their dresses for the Fall,
to warm coffee cups

.
the wee notes…
– All right, so maybe a wee bit of her nastiness touched my pen’s tongue *cough, cough cackle*.
– In the bit of the Dominican Republic where I was born, coffee harvest used to begin in October.
– Linked to Sanaa’s Prompt Nights – Crunching, Crinkling Autumn swirling in the Breeze.

coffee-cherries
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