Restless

We had a very restless night last night. The night before was similar. After a week of balmy tempatures, it suddenly turned into winter here, and we had an ice storm over the past couple of days. All of the trees are coated in a thick layer of ice, bending over from the weight. None of ours have broken yet, except for one small branch on a tree in the back.

The problem is that with the added weight of the ice, some of the branches have bent down far enough that they touch the house, so the last two nights have been filled with screeching and groaning and tapping as the branches blow against the windows and outside walls.

It makes me think of what it must be like to try to sleep on a wooden boat.

The cats finally succombed to exhaustion sometime near dawn, but they were up most of the night, patrolling. At one point I woke from a restless sleep to see Dinah sitting on Bob's nightstand, looking out the window, then, after thinking about it for a second, LEAPING over Bob's head to land on my pillow, then jump over to my nightstand for a view out my window.

I noticed that Bob slept in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and I asked him why this morning. He said it was in case a branch broke out the bedroom window; I can't remember exactly what he said, but it was something like, "In case I had to do some work." He probably actually got the idea from me -- after I had gone to bed, he decided to try and see if he could saw off the biggest offending branch by opening up the bedroom window and leaning out with a saw.

He had me get up and take the cats into his office and shut ourselves in so a curious cat didn't launch herself out the window. Before I left, I put on underwear underneath the big t-shirt I was sleeping in. He asked me why, and I said in case I had to do something like go rescue him after he fell out the window.

I always think about a passage in Anne Tyler's Ladder of Years--probably my all time favorite book--when Delia is in the dressing room changing out of her swimsuit into her newly purchased underwear. She says, "It was a relief to feel contained again," and that's exactly how I feel. It's hard to feel like you're in charge--even of yourself--when you're not wearing underwear.

Another thing that worries me is that my parents don't have any electricity, but I guess my brother and my sister both do, and they've both told my folks they can come over there if they need to. As did I, but my mom said last night, "Lynn and Kevin said that, too, and, well, they're closer."

I've been listening to Jimmy Buffett's newest book, A Salty Piece of Land, in the car. It's been a struggle, though, and I think I may bail on it. I enjoyed his first novel, "Where is Joe Merchant?" so expected to enjoy this one, too, but I'm really not. Part of the problem--for two reasons--is that I'm listening to the audio version rather than reading it. The first problem is the reader. His reading style reminds me of Jimmy Buffett's speaking style, which may be the reason he was chosen, but I'm not sure he was the best choice. I can't exactly say why I think that, but his delivery seems odd to me, kind of stilted. Also, although he tries to create different voices for different characters, some of them just don't work at ALL. For instance, there's a colonial British character whose accent he doesn't nail in the slightest. He doesn't sound at all British.

The second reason that listening to a book is different from reading it is that you really have to pay attention, or at least I do. You can't really skim, like you can when you're reading. You can't flip a few pages and get to the next interesting part (speaking of which, at home I'm reading Dance of the Thunderdogs, by Kirk Mitchell, and frankly, I'm skimming the history parts. I hate to admit that, but I'm just not interested. If I wanted to read a history book, I would. When I read, I generally want to be entertained. If I wanted to be taught something, I would choose a book with that in mind.).

The book ("A Salty Piece of Land") really has no plot to speak of, it's just a string of anecdotes strung together. I'm the last person to complain about a book having no plot--I really don't care--but it is perhaps more obvious when listening to the book rather than reading it.

I've stuck with it about half the way, but I'm reading now about Tully's adventures on Spring Break, getting more and more irritated, and I think I've had my fill. I think I'm going to abandon it and just not find out what happens after the Spring Break hottie dips her breasts in the champagne glasses . . .

One of the stories was about weight loss, and about how almost any type of diet will work in the short term, but most people can't (and probably shouldn't) stick with them for any great length of time, and so generally gain the weight back eventually.

There were a couple of quotes from people on Weight Watchers, and one was a woman who had returned to Weight Watchers after losing weight and then gaining it back. I don't remember exactly what she said, but she called her inability to stay on a diet "an addiction." I wish people would quit using that term, and I wish that people didn't feel that way.

Eating isn't an addiction. Oh -- this is great. I decided to check Dictionary.com to see what the actual definition of "addiction" is:

1. a. Compulsive physiological and psychological need for a habit-forming substance: a drug used in the treatment of heroin addiction.
b. An instance of this: a person with multiple chemical addictions.
2. a. The condition of being habitually or compulsively occupied with or or involved in something.
b. An instance of this: had an addiction for fast cars.

Habitual psychological and physiological dependence on a substance or practice beyond one's voluntary control.

compulsive physiological need for a habit-forming drug (as heroin)

So maybe the second definition does apply -- my point was going to be that food is necessary for life. You can't really have an addiction to food, you know? If you can, then almost everyone does. If you don't eat, you die. You don't have to smoke to live, or shoot heroin, but you do have to eat. Now, granted, I suppose you could have an addiction to McDonald's, or to chocolate bars or sugar-sweetened drinks, but to food in general? I don't think so.

Oh, back to Dictionary.com--the page has a sponsored ad on it to a bariatric clinic: "See if weight-loss surgery is right FOR YOU . . ." So I guess the idea that food is an addiction is widespread.