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>I can’t decide if it was the cold or the cravings that did it. The cold was unexpected. At least, unexpected in it’s force. I’d read about how you get really cold, but sitting in my fully heated house, clothed for an arctic expedition, wrapped in blankets, shivering, I thought: this is ridiculous. And I suppose it wasn’t really the cravings, those were managable. I sorta wanted pizza. I had a dream about getting a buffalo chicken salad at the mall this morning. But really, I wasn’t hungry at all. The crazy maple lemonade crap was quite filling. I just wanted to eat. To cook. I missed having the experiance of partaking in food being part of my day.

In the end, Peter and I decided to do this another time. Going on a super-long, cold inducing, energy sapping (at least initially) health fast in the middle of the first major cold snap in the area, while working 50+ hours a week, planning a wedding and applying to graduate school just didn’t seem like stellar timing on our part.

Or we should go into professional rationalization. At least, we are resolved to do it when it warms up in the spring. At any rate, that buffalo chicken salad at the mall tonight sure hit the spot.

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After some deliberation and much dread, Peter and I have decided to try the 10-day Master Cleanse (now more often referred to as the Lemonade Diet.) This new name is unfortunate for several reasons. First of all, it is not a diet inasmuch as it is not a weight loss fad. Second, the “Lemonade” one drinks in place of food does not taste like lemonade at all. What children’s roadside stand sells the stuff with smoky maple syrup as sweetener and cayenne pepper for kick, much less warm? Hardly the refreshing summer drink that the unfortunate moniker brings to mind. In all, the system is designed to give one’s digestive system a rest and a good scrub-down, while giving the body some time to clean itself some of the toxins built up from a lifetime of over-processed, hormone-injected, preservative-coated food.

My sister warned me that the hardest part of the cleanse is the daily morning salt drink, designed to quickly and effectively wash out one’s innards. Without it, the lemon-drink alone would cause system clogging, and make one quite ill. This morning, I had my first go at guzzling a quart of the stuff. It took me twenty minutes to get it all down, and I was certain I was going to throw up after every swig. Half an hour after the last sip, I had a regularish bowel movement and was (I am a bit embarrassed to admit) slightly disappointed. Ten minutes later … and about every fifteen minutes after that for over an hour … I got my just desserts as the quart came shooting through the other end of my digestive track with surprising force, carrying quite a nasty cargo with it. And, weirdly, I feel really good now that I’m not parked on the toilet with an old Edward Abbey tome to keep me company. The closest I can come to describing it is like the day you wake up after having been sick for a week. You feel a little tired, but you are clear-headed and a little giddy. You feel so *well*.

Of course, I am only a few hours into this whole process. It is going to be an educational tten days. According to all the literature (and gossip) I read, if I can get through the first three or four days – and get used to that damn sea-water – I will be home free. At least the “lemonade” is cravable, cayenne pepper notwithstanding. I’m just glad I found an unused electric lemon juicer at Meg’s house the day before this started. We are going to go through a lot of citrus.

>My landlords have disappeared (I harbor some concern … last time their van was gone for this long, Norm was having a quadruple bypass.) The weather has fallen well below freezing. And Taku has returned to us. Although she has food out under the landlord’s porch, she was waiting by my door two nights ago, ducking against snow flurries. She spent most of the night trying to get into the bedroom with me. Nyssa has learned this is fruitless. Taku was frightened by my stamping, flailing, fatigue angred figure several times before she gave up mewling at the bedroom door. She has been with us two nights now, but I hold no illusion it will last. She disappeared this morning through the bathroom window, but there is still no sign of my landlords’ van. I let both of the animals into the bedroom this morning (I was groggy with the inklings of a head-cold and wanted some creature comfort.) Taku hopped up onto the bed near the window, and began an hour-long bath. Nyssa slunk in a few minutes later and curled up at my knees. Taku stopped her bath long enough to trot across my tummy and give Nyssa a kiss on the nose. I hope she stays for awhile.

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An update on our adoption by Taku:

We have been displaced. Our landlady downstairs has catfood and a dog that’s not quite so high-energy (intimidating?) as our dear Lion Hound. The cat disappeared for a few days. I finally ran into my landlady, who was desperate to find out why the cat wouldn’t use the litter box she provided, but insisted on being let out. Apparently their warmer apartment, older dog and (presumably) better tasting kitty kibble, has ousted us from the running.

Nyssa, for her part, was hurt by the move. A few days ago, she cornered the cat in the yard (asking her, no doubt, why she hadn’t been around for the past few nights.) The cat had few words, but a sharp swat in reply. Nyssa came back with a bleeding scalp and is now working on healing up the newest of her collection of scars.

In related news, my friend Janelle told me that there are people who cross-breed Border Collies and Burmese Mountain Dogs – the very breeds we were trying to decide between. So we have our next cat (a Maine Coon, whose name we have already picked out) and dog all lined up. Our house is filling up, and we don’t even have one!

Peter and I were watching Princess Mononoke last week when we heard a sound outside on the porch. The stray cat that has been hanging around our building (and has been fed by the landlord’s wife somewhat sporadically) was sitting on my mat. She meowed louder and louder until I came outside. I have tried to get close to her before, but she would have none of it. She was still a little skittish at first, but the initiation was hers this time. Once I got close enough to pet her, she walked right past me into the house and up to Nyssa’s water bowl. The cat must have known that we have a huge dog; they have had several stand-offs in the yard over the last month. Nyssa, who had been sleeping on the couch, was all eyes and ears as her territory was invaded, but she’s been smacked across the muzzle enough times to know better than to tangle with a strange feline. The cat explored the apartment for about 15 minutes before Nyssa could contain herself no more and got up to say hello. The cat didn’t even flinch, just looked at her and raised a warning paw, then trotted back into the kitchen, keeping herself between the hound and the door. I put her out after that, but she was sitting on my front mat when I left for work the next morning. The next night, she was back and wanted in. I opened the door for her, and showed her where I’d opened the bathroom window so she could get in and out without a butler. It was late, so I shut myself in my bedroom, hoping she and Nyssa would work out their differences without waking me up. The next morning, Nyssa was stretched out on the couch and the cat was curled in a ball on the comfy chair. I hadn’t heard a peep out of them all night. The cat left through the window as I was getting dressed, but met us on the back porch and gave Nyssa a kiss on the nose before we got into the car to come to work. When I got back from my sister’s this weekend, the cat was waiting and trotted into the apartment with us when we arrived, even after Nyssa chased her around the yard. When I had a good hard cry later that night for no good reason, she curled up next to me (on the other side from Nyssa) and hung out until I was all dried out. So I guess we passed the adoption inspection. Peter has decided to call her Taku (yes, we know the red elk in the movie is male, but the cat doesn’t know any better and the name fits.) Now I’ll have to add cat food to the budget.