Chomp

Chomp: (v) to munch or chew vigorously

Sometimes I think my body is working really hard to kill me–but other times I feel a sympathetic pang streaming from my consciousness,
wishing me well. I don’t know if either is true or if one is actually more prevalent than the other.

But as I get older, I don’t “chomp” as much. It’s been years since I’ve used the phrase “chow down.”

Especially over the past week, recovering from a stomach virus, I realize that my internal organs have very little interest in food. It is my brain that is completely obsessed by the notion.

So when sickness comes along and makes the brain calm down, the stomach has the opportunity to be very picky about what comes through the door. Over the past couple of days, I feel like there’s a bouncer stationed at the end of my “food tube,” kicking out the riff-raff.

First and foremost, I find myself chewing slower, giving my belly the chance to adjust to the idea that soon there will be a visitor.

Now, I do realize that within a few days I will be completely well and the brain will once again insist on more chomping. But for this moment, it is very intriguing, and also cuts the calories.

Could I ever learn to not be a chomper? A fascinating question.

Perhaps I could learn to eat like a kid. They take a bite or two, leave the table and run, and come back and take another bite or two. Not much chomping there.

So I guess the best thing I can say is, I’m kind of chomping at the bit to find out if I can chomp a little less at the table.

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Bust-Up

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Bust-up: (n) the end of a relationship

Excuses are always offered when the real reasons must be disguised.

This is one of the greatest frailties of the human race–in an attempt to be kind, gentle and even-handed, we often end up being liars, cheaters and spreaders of misinformation.

Every bust-up is like that.

The real source of the problem between two people–or a bunch of people–is hidden because it may sound trivial.

So we try to develop what I call a “cottage cheese” explanation. In other words, so bland that everyone will be able to stomach it. In the process, we lead others astray–while deep in their hearts, they sense they have been duped.

But maybe we want to be misled–the truth of the matter might require us to consider our weakness. Or maybe a revelation of the actual dilemma would make us feel silly and shallow.

Whatever the excuse is, a bust-up is always a little piece of deceit dipped in chocolate.

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Breadline

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Breadline: (n) a line of people waiting to receive free food.

I’ve actually said it out loud.

“I’m starved.”Dictionary B

Truth of the matter is, I have rarely been hungry enough to justify a complaint. Maybe lunch was a little late and I claimed low blood sugar, which justified eating a Snickers while waiting for my Big Mac. But I’ve never really been malnourished to the point that my innards were trying to take over my brain.

When I see pictures of human folks standing in line to get nourishment, a meal which I would mock for its insufficiency, I am temporarily humbled and shaken.

Much of the world will go to bed tonight without dinner.

You don’t make friends by bringing this up at a party, and you don’t feed ten children by putting them on your prayer list.

What truly astounded me was when I found myself touring through Haiti, I came across a man who had picked up a few pennies on the street to buy two tomatoes. He also had saved some grains of rice from a bag which had a hole in it. I watched him put that in a pot over a little fire and stir it together as he realized he needed a little something else. He walked over to a patch of grass and pulled out a handful of blades and threw it into his concoction with a smile on his face.

At that point I realized that I had no comprehension of hunger.

Would I be willing to stand in a breadline, waiting for a paltry parcel of portion?

Actually … I think my stomach might insist on it.

 

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Berry

Berry: (n) a small roundish juicy fruit without a stone.

Dictionary B

I find it mentally erotic to allow each of the words that I write about every day to leap into my memory and drag out the stories.

The word “berry” has two significant meanings to me.

First of all, I love berries. They are something I can eat without guilt, even though they tell me it is possible to consume too many.

I don’t know if I’ve ever eaten a berry I did not like. Some berries do grumble my stomach a bit, but that doesn’t keep me from enduring the growl.

But I also have a memory of berries which is less satisfying–maybe just a little bit frustrating.

When I first got married, my wife and I were very poor. To complicate our poverty, we were also lazy. The two don’t work well together, for when they arrive at the same time, they can leave you really hungering and thirsting.

My parents had a small parcel of land outside of town–a farm which had some blackberry bushes. (I think they’re called bushes. Maybe they’re vines, but I’m too lazy to look it up.)

My wife and I had the brilliant idea of going out, picking blackberries, and selling them door to door. It was not going to guarantee us a lot of money, but it would definitely succeed in buying a loaf of bread, some bologna or even the more coveted peanut butter and jelly.

It was an arduous task.

The berries are small, so it takes a lot of them to fill up a container. We got hot, stung by bugs and poked by thorns. It was not what I would call pleasant, even though we rejoiced in the opportunity and turned it into a lark.

We picked for about three hours and got seven little baskets, which we sold for fifty cents apiece. It was a long time ago, but that still was a good deal.

We were so overjoyed over the process that we decided to do it again two or three days later, but when we went back to the houses to sell our berries, the customers began to complain about twigs in the baskets, and the fact that some of the berries weren’t quite ripe.

Suddenly we had become a $3.50 corporation, which apparently needed a customer relations department. It took a lot of joy out of the experience. One lady even demanded that we return a quarter as a refund.

So as I sit and enjoy my berries topped with a little Cool Whip, I am grateful for those souls who have to pick them … being careful never to complain if I discover a twig.

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Belly

Belly: (n) the front part of the human trunk below the ribs, containing the stomach and bowels.

Dictionary B

I’ve always tried to stay optimistic because if I become downcast, I see my belly, which only adds to the depression.

I don’t know whether you’re supposed to see your belly when you look down. Some people might have a view of other anatomical parts.

But not me.

Since I was a lad of seven, my belly has preceded me into affairs. It pushes itself to the forefront, trying to establish dominance and certainly, advertise other potential character flaws.

I have tried to lose my belly–but apparently there is some sort of snitch in my brain which always informs this large protrusion of my intentions.

The belly protects itself.

If I try to starve it out, it prepares for the siege.

It actually seems to be proud of its acreage. I, on the other hand, keep trying to find pants to cover it up.

I am not alone in this situation. Occasionally, when I stop to look at other people, I see that they, too, have accumulated quite an impressive forerunner to their forthcoming.

In other words, they have big bellies.

I have read that in history, possessing such a large amount of flesh was once considered to be a symbol of prosperity. That was a time when starvation was common, and obesity was evidence that you could put food on your table.

As I write this today, I am not sure that my belly will ever leave.

It is a damn sentimental creature of habit.

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Alimentary

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Alimentary Canal: (n) the entire passage along which food passes through the body, including esophagus, stomach and intestines.

So much like life.

That which kisses the lips and titillates the taste buds, slides easily down the throat, gains acid in the stomach, is transformed into waste and often ends up looking like crap.

It is difficult for me, as a fat person, to focus on the more negative–and may I say, final–prospects of overeating.

I am completely engrossed in the licking of my lips and the taste buds, and even somewhat intrigued by the swallowing–but avoid the repercussions of digestion, fat accumulation and expulsion.

The alimentary canal is certainly a slippery slope, as it were: everything is heading downhill.

Some people might consider this negative.

Yet maybe it’s a step of maturity–learning to release smaller snowballs at the top of the mountain so as not to create an avalanche.

 

Agree

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter AAgree: (v) to have the same opinion on something; to concur.

Sitting around a table on this holiday morning with family members I have not seen for months, our discussion gradually drifted from the mundane to the sublime, landing in the controversial.

We are a typical family in the sense that in many facets we grow together and in specific areas we have separated over issues, causes and matters of faith.

As the conversation had ebbs and tides from calm to heated, I realized that complete agreement was virtually impossible, but that the only way to truly acquire the kind of agreeing that leads to commonality and pursuit of purpose is to submit to a respected source.

Common sense is a great place to meet.

What is common sense? It is taking the precaution to make sure that what is procured, or even pursued, has the benefit and insight to provide for the common good.

  • Because after all, freedom without responsibility is merely another name for chaos.
  • And responsibility minus the inclusion of freedom is the institution of tyranny.

Yes, it takes wise people to agree–because tapping common sense to create the common good is only achieved by purposely pursuing commonality.

“Whatever two shall agree upon, it shall be done.”

Although we go through stages in our lives where we view ourselves as lone wolves, that profile leaves you howling on the top of the mountain in the middle of the night with an empty stomach, lonely.

We walked away from the table this morning a little closer because we realized how far apart we are in certain areas, but acknowledging how needful it is to tap the common sense that gives us reasons to agree.