You Gain Some, You Lose Some …

Apparently, just WATCHING the World Cup is NOT ENOUGH to make me lose weight. Or, restore my health. Somehow, I weigh three pounds more than I did at the beginning of the week. And I am increasingly exhausted, fatigued, my joints sort of — difficult to explain, not so much aching as saying, “Stop. Sit down. We can’t.” Now, because of the vertigo, I did skip the gym one day this week, and my attempted bike ride yesterday only lasted sixteen miles (as opposed to my training partner’s 50!) before I felt ill and dizzy and wobbly. I hastened home — well, my temporary home — to the lake. I spent an hour or so on the front patio, reading, because the house was being cleaned and I didn’t want to be in the way. Well, TRYING to read. I kept falling asleep in the wicker chaise longue, tucked in the sun. Gorgeous day and gorgeous location for a nap.

outside waiting

When M., who cleans, departed, I went inside and showered. I felt guilty showering since she’d just scrubbed that bathroom, but, what’s a fellow supposed to do? I wanted to be clean for the World Cup. The Brazil/Chile game nearly killed me. And then, the Colombia/Uruguay game finished the job. I mean, that James Rodriguez:

james rodriguez

But, too, Brazil’s goalkeeper, Julio Cesar, the way he catches things and handles those balls; his skill. His bulge. He was not wearing a world cup;

Brazil's goalkeeper Julio Cesar and Neymar celebrate after their 2014 World Cup Group A soccer match against Cameroon at the Brasilia national stadium in Brasilia

Honestly, how did it take me so long to realize I loved a sport in which balls to the head play such a huge role? Now, some might posit that heads being pounded with balls with such frequency and force might result in brain damage, but, anyone who knows me knows that a little brain damage only makes a man ALL THE MORE my type — and, BONUS, increases the odds he’ll consider me his type. Win all around!

Of course, I am also quite fond of Uruguay’s Edinson Cavani:

cavani

But, I haven’t given up my Wimbeldon lust, either. I was also delighted with Rafa’s progress yesterday. (That’s Mr. Rafael Nadal, to those of you who have NOT been involved in a stalking fantasy relationship with him for the past decade.)

nadal bulto 2 nadal bulto Nadal

In any event, I couldn’t spend all day ogling sportsmen and falling asleep. Though, I might have done just that had my nephew’s birthday party not been scheduled for today — he requested an Oreo-crust-chocolate cheesecake. As is my wont, I don’t just make a recipe (or give in and buy the damn thing at Wegman’s). I research, find multiple recipes, and combine elements from all of them, adding my own touches, screwing around with proportions and methodology and come up with my own thing. I gathered ingredients:

cheesecake prep

And during the World Cup, I started putting the thing together. The last one I made was too soft in the center. I did some secret adjustments involving the crust (you can’t make me tell you but think melted butter AND very expensive chocolate as Oreo crumb binder — and perhaps — just maybe — a period in the freezer for the crust before adding the filling to the pan — BUT I AM NOT GIVING ANYTHING ELSE AWAY!) and the filling and the cooking time and maybe — just maybe — at some point in the process the top might be covered, the oven turned off, but the cake left in to set the center without burning the edges — BUT AGAIN — I AM NOT GIVING AWAY MY SECRETS.

cheececake finished

It LOOKS kind of perfect. We’ll see what happens when we cut it later today. It needs 24 hours after cooling in the refrigerator for true setting and flavor mixing. I’m hoping it turned out the texture and taste I envisioned when concocting it.

After all that activity (and napping, I could NOT stay awake. Every time I sat down, my head lolled) I made a simple supper of bought rotisserie chicken and sautéed fresh veggies. HOW DID I GAIN WEIGHT YESTERDAY?

While eating I watched the Orioles. I know, right? But, my Mom does and something about watching the games makes me feel close to her. Although I am not as fond of Manny Machado as is she.

I then began my evening of reading:

bittersweet

Really enjoying this book. As dusk approached, the path around and behind this house — which leads to the lake for which this place is named — became quite busy, lots of people with chairs and coolers and such, and, as is often the case here, there were people in the garage of this house — which is not so much a garage as it is a mini-restaurant-grill-smoker-man-cave — “borrowing” stuff. Everyone in this neighborhood just walks IN and OUT of everyone else’s homes to “borrow” stuff. Uhm, that’s all well and good when the actual people who LIVE HERE are HERE — but I sure as shit wish they would NOT do it when I am house-sitting because it freaks the fuck out of me to hear someone wandering around in part of the house. I have the actual house doors locked so they can’t get in here, but neglected to secure the garage.

The dogs were going nuts. Which was nothing compared to what happened AFTER DARK, when, unbeknownst to me, there had been planned a HUGE and LOUD fireworks display/event on the lake. The dogs (and thus, I, so we) were not amused. I tried to read for a while longer — had a glass (maybe two, maybe three — maybe THAT’s why I am gaining weight?) of wine; but, I was pretty exhausted still.

In fact, I began to think that perhaps I am actually going to have to give in and see a physician if something doesn’t soon give. My vertigo is better but it is not gone. And, there is — off and on — a taste in my mouth after I eat which seems to be like poisonous emanations from my insides, of something dead — I know that sounds bad, but, it is not unlike the taste of how a dead mouse beneath the floorboards of the ancient family home in Libertytown used to smell — that’s what it reminds me of. Plus, I have noticed — off and on — blood where there shouldn’t be blood.

Now, usually — and with some success — my approach to health is to ignore everything and it goes away. It’s worked for years. Once upon a time, in another life, I worked for a health insurance company and had excellent coverage AND found myself coming down with things for which I had seen claims — after that job from hell (but paycheck from heaven) ended, and some other endings, well, I haven’t had health insurance in a while and prior to that while, the insurance I had was such a small pool that every time anyone on it went to the doctor, the rates shot up like mad — so I stopped going in the interest of saving money. And, frankly, my aunt, Sissie, didn’t go to the doctor for years and everything was fine — when relatives finally forced her to go, well, in record time she was blind, losing her mind, and dead. She said, “I wish I’d never gone to the doctor in the first place and had this all stretch out like this. If I’d just kept saying no, I would have died at a natural age instead of being strung along.”

I agree. Fuck it, who cares that I now have insurance again (thank you, President Obama, he truly is a great man; I admire him so much) I am not interested in the rigmarole. Plus,I have this huge packet of information I’m supposed to read and initial visits and blah blah blah and I am just not interested.

I have TOO MANY OTHER THINGS I have procrastinated about, keeping me awake and in fear. I don’t need to add medical shit to it. Plus, honestly, ever since Sissie went blind, couldn’t read any more, I live in terror I will lose my sight.

I already lost my vision.

Later.

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