Ian and I had a lovely 4th of July holiday weekend this past weekend. We went down to Portland on Saturday to visit dear friend L (who helped us on the dacha over Memorial Day Weekend), stopping in Lacey to check in with T&A and their kids C&E. In Portland we met up with L&S at L’s, and the five us of proceeded to have quite the 90’s revival weekend. We supped Saturday evening at Chez José, the first restaurant I remember going to once I’d left home at 17; breakfasted at the original Original Pancake House on Barbur Blvd; enjoyed ridiculously lavish Royal Feet massages at The Barefoot Sage and then snacks and naps or floor repair back at L’s; and finished off with mouthwatering jambalaya at Montage under the Morrison Bridge (I ate at Montage when it was still in a small garage somewhere up on Belmont, I think) and the Rimsky-Korsakoffee House for dessert.
It was the end of my two-weeks-on Xeloda cycle, and various things take over my body at such a time, including increased (but still pretty minimal) nausea, and occasional bowel disorders. In the case of this particular weekend, I seemed to be doomed to carry around my waste with me, my guts getting heavier and heavier, my lower abs bulgier and bulgier, as time went on and more and more deliciously reminisceable foods were enjoyed (there were good reasons for frequenting the above listed eateries).
I tried my best to take in things that would help clear the spillways—I drank a lot of water, and ate buckets of cherries, sipped lots of milky coffee, and worried that the rice with the jambalaya wasn’t, in fact, such a good choice (rice can be very damming). I kept having false alarms, but as they were happening later and later in the day (and once in the middle of the night) I didn’t really hold out much hope. I am on a morning schedule, when the trains are running.
As it turned out, I awoke raring to go at 10:30am yesterday morning, and gleefully left the bathroom after my morning ablutions 2 ½ pounds lighter. A couple more well-timed deposits left me on top of the world, as it were, by bedtime last night.
This morning, unfortunately, the evidently over-generous buckets of cherries and milky coffee caught up with me (ameliorated not at all by Sunday evening’s spicy rice), and I’ll be sticking close to home slightly longer than previously expected before beginning the 6-hour drive back to Idaho and my Wilderness Bliss.
There are certainly complicated ins and outs to this health-wellness-life-management job I have.
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