à la Magaly

Remember that bit about how Life Is Selfish…? Well, I think life dearest took offense to my rather rash words and decided that I obviously did not know the meaning of selfish, and since she adores dealing in lessons, she would take the time to show me how things work when she truly chooses to be in charge.

My schedule is a mess. I usually get at least one day of the week that is just for me, but… no more. I’ve done my ranting and teeth baring. Now, I shall sit still on Chaos’s head, facing forward, waiting until I can drop onto his shoulder and ride him through the mess, until he stops bucking and we start dancing as one.

Until that wondrously tidy dance starts, I shall do what I always do. 

“Overuse the words shall and bit more than is decent?” says the exasperating voice of my Maddening in-Head Editor. 

No, you nosy little bastard, I shall do things à la Magaly. 

“In French? Oh, I didn’t know you could—” 

If you would let me write uninterrupted for 3 seconds, I might—

Um… sorry, my Wicked Luvs, my in-head editor’s mouth is bigger than mine at times *cough*. Anyway, I will approach things the Magaly way. I will work with what I have, when I can, in ways that satisfy my creative wants and needs. Yep, it shall be me, me, me—

“And me?” 

Yes, and you, Maddening in-Head Editor, since one must never lose sight of one’s insanity.  

So, the shape of my blogging will change… again. I shall post more often than I did before. But the posts will be short and seldom linked to prompts. I predict micro-fiction, cherita, haiku, tanka, and senryū dancing cheerfully (and wildly) with pictures, bits of witchy living, and glimpses into my writing day.

I think those of you who have been with me since the beginning will like this. Me? Well, I’m certain I shall love every bit of it. The days ahead look shadow-clad and murk-kissed, so I’m strapping on my wings. The Muse and I, and yes, the Maddening in-Head Editor, too, know just how to soar in the dark.

Fly with me…

 


The stunning work of my dear friend, Stacy, mistress of Magic Love Crow.

 

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