Ice Cream + Memorial Day + The John Buchard Syndrome

I broke down and had some ice cream last night. The craving was so intense I just had to give in. I have watermelon in the fridge, which I had earlier in the day, but I had to have ice cream.

There's a scene in the movie Down By Law, where Roberto Bertolini, Tom Waits, and John Laurie from the band Austin Lounge Lizards, are in the Parish Prison in New Orleans and they're yelling
"ice cream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream." That's kinda how I felt last night. I ate 3/4 of a  a pint of bittersweet chocolate by the Three Twins. It is addictive for sure. Had to have it, gave in to temptation. So much for the benefits of fasting. Whatever benefit I did derive from fasting yesterday was negated by the 4 million calories of ice cream I consumed. Ice cream is the perfect combination of salt, sugar and fat. Of course today I felt guilty. Well, I haven't had a beer in two weeks.

Memorial Day weekend and I'm staying close to home. It's another amateur weekend. Too many people on the road, with too much alcohol in them, and not enough drunk driving experience. Of course New Years Eve is the grand daddy of amateur night, followed by Memorial Day and July 4th.

Memorial Day is of course the holiday we celebrate to honor our brothers and sisters who have given the ultimate sacrafice for our country and wall street. Read Labors Untold Story if you want the real truth about America.

I went to the bathroom this morning trying to hock up a loogie I had lodged somewhere in my throat and strained my neck from coughing it up. Now I have no range of motion, and it's very uncomfortable, painful actually. I call it the John Buchard syndrome, for an old boss of mine. I worked for John for 3 seasons building driveways, and landscaping. we were good friends and we spent time fishing, hunting, eating, having fun, fighting, and drinking a lot. I learned a lot about construction from John.

John and his wife Florence were both old French Yankee farm kids way up near Lake Champlain Vermont. "Eleven miles to Canada as the crow flies." John would say. He and Florence spoke French as their first language. They had three girls. When you pissed him off he'd start swearing in French. That's when you knew when to back off. He was a tough farm boy, and a man you did not want to cross. He had a habit of busting peoples spleens. If he put you in a bear hug you might be visiting the hospital. He also had a reputation up north as being the toughest man around. No body at the firehouse in that neck of the woods could beat him in a fist fight. John was about 6 feet tall. He had a massive belly that was as solid as concrete, huge meaty hands with long fingers, and a thick healthy blue grey head of hair with streaks of white frost in it. He had a funny accent, and a wonderful charming smile.

One day John and I were working on a job site somewhere in Wilton CT. He was on the bulldozer back-grading this driveway, and I was working some rocks out by hand when he stopped to help me with this rock that I couldn't budge. As he steps off the dozer onto the ground his back went out, and I start laughing. He was 40 years old at the time and I was maybe 22. He looked at me with these dead  serious eyes and said "You wait, you'll be like me before you know it."

Every time something like this happens to me now I call it the John Buchard syndrome. It's a good excuse to finish the bitter sweet chocolate ice cream from the Three Twins. Pain killer.

That it.

Peace,

Make Food/Not War

What I ate today;
Breakfast; 2 poached eggs, 1 potato pancake, 2 pieces of whole wheat toast w/butter, 2 thin slices of ham

Lunch: Chicken salad sandwich w/mayo, mustard, s & p, herbs of Provence, fresh parsley, 2 pieces of whole wheat toast

Dessert; Ice Cream, water melon

Exercise; 3.5 miles walking