Three of my dragons
Bet that title got your attention!! But it’s not what you think. This dragon loom eats little novice weavers like me for lunch. I’ve never used a single-sided inkle before, and the tensioning method is unfamiliar to me too, so every time I’ve had to loosen the tension to move the warp, there have been threads dropped, tension too loose, just a plethora of mistakes that have to be fixed before I can get back to weaving. Not that I’m not loving it! Being smaller and lighter than my other inkle looms, I can carry it all over the house, and weave in my recliner pretty easily, in front of the tv. And it is most certainly pretty.
I’m not sure if I like the leather tablets or not. On the one hand, they turn very easily. On the other, little bits of leather scrape off the rough back and end up in the warp, kind of like leather dandruff, and the tablets seem to get caught in the threads more easily. Not sure how to adjust that. But the weaving is fun.
It’s been the only fun over the last couple of days. I had a doctor’s appointment the other day, follow up to fasting labwork that had been ordered because, let’s face it, I ain’t seventeen anymore. Well, he had news for me: I’m diabetic. I know, thousands upon thousands of people have it and live perfectly normal lives, with the exception that they have to be a bit more careful about what they put in their bodies. But my mother had it too, and her kidneys failed as a complication. Dialysis three times a week, three hours each session. Eventually this complication killed her. So you can imagine that my reaction to the news was anything but, “I can handle this.” No, it was more like down-to-the-bone terror, because all I could see was my mother’s death, and I’m thinking, “I can’t go anywhere. This can’t happen. My kids are too young and still need me.” Silly, right? Like I said, my rational brain was pointing out the fact that 30 million people in the US alone live with diabetes on a daily basis. I’m not the first. Rationally, I know that. But something else kept bringing up pictures of my mom.
It’s taken me several days to equalize from the diagnosis. I’m well aware that I have to make changes now, and I’m finding out that those changes to my eating habits are the hardest ones to deal with. I only ever drink iced tea, for instance. Occasionally, I’ll crave soda for about a week, and then I’m done for awhile, but iced tea is my be-all, end-all. And it must be sweetened, otherwise I may as well be drinking essence of grass. And I’m not a horse.
I also can’t stand the taste of milk. If you want me to turn green, hand me a glass of milk and make me drink it. So now it’s pretty much just water.
Fortunately, I enjoy fish quite a bit, but not so much a fan of chicken. There are a few dishes I like, but overall, I like my fish or my red meat. And getting rid of white rice and potatoes, both of which are staple foods in my house? Doom! Disaster! Devastation! Dogs and cats living together! Give up fries and potato salad?! Could you break my heart any more? My sweet tooth is brokenhearted as well, although it’s probably what got me here in the first place. Oh, yes, this is going to be painful.
As I am fond of saying, there is nothing “golden” about the so-called golden years. The golden years are when you are young and your body can still do amazing things, even while existing on a steady diet of Froot Loops, McDonald’s, and Taco Bell. And no, I’m not quite a senior citizen yet! But though mentally, I am still a spry seventeen year old girl, the body begs to differ. I won’t catalogue things here; let’s just say it laughs at me when I ask it to do certain tasks, like running. Not a chance, Lance. In a horror movie, I’d be the chick who falls down and crawls as the killer is coming up right behind me.
So it’s a brand new day, a whole new chapter of change. It’s gonna hurt, but it’s gotta be done. Wish me luck…I’m pretty sure I’m gonna need it!