LittleBill

I am just wondering where she started thinking this was a good idea.

Ha! My nutritionist said no caffeine because it dehydrates you, and if you have trouble getting your liquids in, you will have more. I have had no issues at all getting my requirement and more, and I need the caffeine to boost my blood pressure. I am getting the impression that a lot of the professionals we deal with say whatever comes into their head about why we should or shouldn't do something. But decaf is great in the afternoon or evening. That way I can have my coffee and still sleep at night.

I think it was the smugness, combined with the "we're too busy, but I've got time to interrogate you" attitude. Thank you for your kind words about my posting. I try to look at the positive side of things whenever possible. Exactly! she probably had a degree or experience in business administration, not medicine. As for forgetting, I have it all written down. Yeah, I am definitely going to pursue this. Every time I have an appointment I get a survey to fill out asking lots of questions about how things went. This time I am going looking.

I've been telling people I don't want to talk to about it that it is a need to know basis, and they don't need to know. Just because someone knows you and is curious, they are not entitled to personal information.

I have a very funny story about hot peppers and rubbing certain body parts, but it is not worth my life to tell it. Suffice to say, they were not my parts, and I was threatened on several levels if I ever touched peppers and those parts in that order again.

I run my own business. I am the only employee, with the exception of Mrs. LittleBill, who maintains the books, and occasionally helps me schlep a heavy board around, or haul a piece of furniture to a customer. The doc gave me an extra long prognosis for recovery because of all the heavy lifting I do, so I planned to be off from work until after New Years for a couple of reasons. Today, since I have been recently cleared for some more action, I found myself in the shop eyeing up a piece of wood that has been sitting on the bench for a long time, waiting for my vision to become reality. I figured, why not? I got all my stuff together, and prepared to make art. A real important part of "my stuff" is protective gear, and the biggest part of that is my air helmet. I hadn't worn in in over three months, as I had been working on stuff where it wasn't needed before surgery, and afterward, I just wasn't doing anything until today. I grabbed it off the shelf, stuck it on my haid, and... Hey! This thing is loose! Now, loose is a relative term. For me, loose means it actually fits now. My hat size seems to have decreased a barely noticeable amount, but the real change was in my cheeks and jawline. My cheeks have shrunken considerably over the past three months, so the visor snaps down with authority now, instead of just making an effort. It actually felt kind of weird. But I'll take it. After I got over the weirdness of it, it was more comfortable than it has been in a long time, and that is great. I often wear this thing for hours at a time when I am working.

I was not surprised about my cheeks. I was surprised about my noggin though. I moved the headband less than 1/16", but I did move it. And I didn't even get my hair cut (what little there is).

I probably would. I was very concerned that I would not be able to eat spicy food after my surgery, but it has been going down the hatch very well.

It certainly can. You'll feel like you're pooping out lit kerosene. And yes, we play that Johnny Cash classic all the time!

Jester will stand at the boundary of his invisible fence and bark at people like they are demons from the pit of Hell, come to take me away. It is usually women, sometimes with children in strollers from the development behind us just out for their walk, which they take every day. They laugh at him and say hello. They will come back on the return trip and it is like he never saw them before in his life. I tell them he is busy protecting me from women and children. Once we are off the property though, he is as docile as can be.

I've gotten a number of comments on some of my stories/posts, so here is one I wrote about our dog almost 10 years ago. For the faint of heart, this story mentions Christians, guns, black humor, dry humor, and perhaps worst of all, DOUGHNUTS as comfort food! So if anyone here is triggered, you have been warned. Oh yeah. Jester is still living with us, so no dogs were harmed in the making of this story. I titled this story A Bullet or a Bath. It has been put up on a couple of different sites. This event took place on Friday, Feb 13. I am not one to believe in superstition, but when things happen on days like today, it is hard to gainsay the naysayers. I had just arrived at church this morning for our weekly 6:00 AM men's meeting. As we were all sitting down and preparing to start, my phone rang. Now I don't know about you all, but when my phone rings at 6:00 AM, it is hardly ever good news. And when I saw that the caller was "Home", I knew it was trouble. I even had a dread inkling of what it probably was... It was Lisa on the phone. "Jester got skunked." That was it - the whole story in three words. Jester is our mixed breed chow. He is a rescue dog, coming up on two years old, who we have had since last July, when poor old Bubba, our golden/lab mix went on to his final reward. Jester has caused us considerable heartache for a number of reasons, although he is at heart a lovable dog. Monday through Thursday Lisa leaves the house at 6:00 AM for work. She puts Jester, and our small backup dog Rowdy, outside. Rowdy is usually ready to come in before she leaves, but Jester has two acres of invisible fence in which to patrol. His barking and carrying on usually get me out of bed no later than 6:15 AM. On Fridays we have role reversal when I leave early for our men's meeting. Yesterday we narrowly avoided the skunk. I awoke to the smell so strong I thought he was walking around on top of the covers. My first thought was of the dog, and I ran down to get him in (hopefully) before it was too late. I was successful, and we chalked it up to an animal passing by at some distance. We had some pretty powerful wind, so I was thinking positively. A lot of good that did. So this morning I let him out, whereupon he scampered off barking into the darkness, going after birds, squirrels, the neighbor's cats, whatever. It was that "whatever" that proved to be his doom. He ran up to say goodbye as I was getting in the truck, and I drove off experiencing the perverse pleasure of knowing that Lisa would soon be the one hauled out of her warm bed by the sound of the dog going berserk. I got a lot more than I bargained for. "Jester got skunked." "Do you want me to come home now?" "What do you think you should do?" "I think I should come home and shoot him." "Well don't do that yet. Stay for your meeting. He is running around outside right now." (I could hear the barking and whimpering in the background) "If I shoot him it would solve a lot of problems." I was thinking of the hundreds of dollars in vet bills, dog store supplies, chewed moldings (early American hand planed moldings, not the junk from Home Depot moldings), bitten visitors, etc. I thought for a second. "Okay, I will stay for the meeting. Since you are up, how about you do some research on the internet and let me know what I need to get to get this stuff off him. If that doesn't work, we can always shoot him." "I'll do that and text you with a list." I hung up the phone, and turned to confront the comforters of Job. Schadenfreude is alive and well in the Christian community. After all my friends and co workers for the kingdom had a good laugh, they all commiserated with my plight. I am sure they were all feeling a little bit better about their own sorry lots in life as well. Since I was in attendance openly carrying my SIG Sauer .45 automatic, there was no doubt in the minds of most of them that Jester might very well be in glory (or wherever dogs go) before the sun hit its zenith. I got the list from Lisa via the miracle of text messaging. I guess it really is good for something. I went to the grocery store, which seemed to be filled with single men of various ages wandering aimlessly through the aisles clutching bits of paper in their hand, casting their eyes randomly across the shelves in search of whatever it was they had been sent for. Being high tech, I clutched my cell phone, referring to the list repeatedly so as not to forget a necessary ingredient and make a bad situation worse. I got to the cashier. The bill for cleaning products, and a box of chocolate covered donuts (necessary comfort food) came to $18.00 and change. I said to the cashier, an older lady in her early 60s, "Eighteen dollars or 25 cents." "Pardon?" "Eighteen dollars for cleaning supplies, or 25 cents for a bullet. Our dog got skunked this morning." "Oh, I won't go there!" she exclaimed. I told her based on his previous behavior that I was inclined to the bullet, but as she could see, I was buying the cleaning supplies. We had a laugh (more Schadenfreude I think) and I proceeded home. Now Jester is a very wiry and skittish dog. He is also somewhat touchy. Ole Bubba would stand still for just about anything. Jester has to be put out - i.e. anesthetized - for just about anything at the vet. You can't touch his ears, his face, or anything he doesn't want if he is in his normal mood. We have been slowly desensitizing him to that, but it is a long job and it is not done yet. I arrived home to find him on his line, where we keep him when people come to visit. He was looking very forlorn. He was very happy to see me, of course not knowing my thought process. He also couldn't seem to understand why I would not come over and pet him as I usually do. In the house, we strategized on how best to do the deed. We ended up leaving him on his line, and bathing him with the prescribed ingredients, rinsing, and rebathing as instructed, until the process was done. There were a few times I thought I was going to be nipped for sure, but he held off and we all made it through the ordeal with our hides intact. We left him out in the balmy 35 degree weather until he was done shaking. He is now in the basement, which is also our kitchen at present (another long story).After we have rested a bit and he has settled down, we are going to put him in Lisa's Honda Element and take him to the dog wash down the road. He usually rides in the back seat of my truck, but those Elements, you can hose them out you know. I wonder what is in store for the rest of the day? I have a barn door hanging by one support from the wind as well, so that is a distinct possibility. Oh, the joy of country living. As a side note, I do have to get out the .22 rifle and make sure the scope is sighted in where I left it last. Mr. Skunk is not going to receive as much mercy as the dog I think.

You are welcome. I say go for it. The worst that will happen is you'll have to pick them out as you eat.

I will be praying for your entire family as well.

I've had a couple of people I know professionally say something, usually along the lines of "You've lost weight!" I always respond with "Maybe a pound or two". Most will let it drop at that point, but a few have challenged me on the amount. It hasn't gotten any further than that though, and I am down almost 110 since the start.

It was awful. They (with a capital T) say it will go away in a couple of weeks. It doesn't. He smelled bad for a couple of months! Then, for about six more months after that, every time he got wet, or even damp, the smell came back. It finally faded, but it took a loooong time. That's funny. This dog is a hunter, but he does not bring parts back for us. We had a cat for a long time who used to kill mice and eat everything but the head. We would always find the heads lying around, and nothing else. She is the subject of another story involving an almost dead bat.

I am sure many people will take cold comfort in that.

I will post up my recipe later on today. You may feel free to adulterate it by leaving out the garbanzos. I am off to the vet to get the dog his shots.

Get one drink. Don't drink it. This has been a practice for many hundreds of years for people who do not want to lose self control or situational awareness in any given setting. You just pretend to drink it. It takes al little work, but I have been practicing this for a long time before I started in on my WLS program.

The people running the program where I went were very thorough. They didn't hit on anything, but there were no huge surprises. The one thing nobody told me, and I was probably just as glad in the end, was that the anesthesia can cause your bladder to not work properly. They had to catheterize me twice in the hospital. The second time was worse because I knew what was coming. But once the effects wore off, Little LittleBill went back to his usual functions. That happened within less than 24 hours out from surgery. Of course, you may hate me now for telling you this and giving you something to look forward to. Overall, I did a lot of reading, asked a lot of questions, and everything has gone very smoothly for me. I hope you have a similar experience. Heck, I think I am one of the very few people on the board here who doesn't hate Protein shakes.

Okay, now I'M the one who is wondering if we can still be friends! No garbanzos!?! My oldest daughter busts my chops on them too. She says it is not the natural order of things. My doc isn't wild about corn because it is starchy, but the little bit I have had has gone down without a problem, and it is mainly an accent. I like the habanero in honey idea. I will have to give it a try. We used to grow our own - several varieties - but recently I have just been putting habanero powder in my hot stuff. In my chili I will add just a touch of brown sugar. It takes the acid bite out of the tomato sauce, and accentuates the first impression of the habs. It has sort of snuck up on people who take a bite, say, "This isn't hot!", and then wolf down a few mouthfuls. It is always fun to watch, especially since I warn people ahead of time.

Well I suppose you could, but there are consequences. Seriously, at some point you are going to hit a plateau. The extreme would be anorexia.

I pressed for some real answers on this one when I started out. The one I got that made the most sense is that the numbers they quote are averages. On one end of the scale you have the fanatical gym rats. On the other, you have the people going back to eating the way they used to, the week after surgery. The rest of us are somewhere in between. Your own personal weight loss will depend on changed habits, body chemistry, and determination.

My wife and I are much closer now. Mainly, that's because we've both lost weight. Seriously though, we have always had a good relationship through almost 33 years of marriage. Most other family members have been very supportive as well. Some of my friends have gotten a little squirrelly, but since they are more in the "good acquaintance" category more than close friend category, it doesn't really bother me. Most people who know about my surgery have been way more understanding than I had hoped or expected.

When you were talking about being warm all of the time I was beginning to not like you. Then you said that you are freezing and that put you back in my good graces. Your farmhouse sounds cool! (In more ways than one) The house has been an interesting adventure, that's for sure. We are in farmland, and many of the windows are still original. What all that means is that the wind has lots of room to develop speed across the fields, and while stone walls do not move, windows do. It can get quite breezy inside on a windy night! It's like living in the old days, when I have to wear a knit hat on my noggin to prevent frostbite. The only positive aspect about being cold is exacting revenge on Mrs LittleBill for all the years I have endured cold hands and feet in bed at night. I used to joke about having her hold my beer for me so it wouldn't get warm. Now I could hold my own - if I was still allowed to have one.

This afternoon Mrs. LittleBill and I hauled ourselves off to the grocery store to procure victuals for the coming days. Sunday afternoons are always an adventure. The store is stuffed with high energy professionals, harried mothers herding small children, and a few geezers thrown in to make it all interesting. We like to forego the list. It helps with exercise. "Oh, we forgot this" adds to the step count since "this" is always at the other end of the store. It only ceases to be amusing when "this" is not discovered until we are home in the driveway, and I am sent back to find it. Dodging the other customers sort of makes the event into a cross between Mad Max and The Running Man. Today was particularly interesting as there was a small skinny woman there who seemed to think that this was the perfect opportunity to get her power walking in while pushing a grocery cart that weighed approximately three times what she did. I got the impression that she paid no attention to the teacher when she took physics in high school. She did a great job getting her cart up to speed, but look out for those turns! Probably the best part of the trip was watching the little girl who was about three years old take off her boots and proceed to run around loose and barefoot. Her horrified mother enlisted her older sister to help run her down, but she was like a greased pig when they tried to hold her down and get her boots back on. Since I have been promoted to Grandpa, I can stand back and laugh quietly. Both of the girls saw me watching. The barefoot one had a positively demonic grin on her face. When her older sister saw me smiling, she let loose with a giggle of her own. We survived the adventure though, and returned home with some new foods to try out that are low fat or at least low carb.