My paternal grandma had a big, beautiful house: built in the 20s, four huge bedrooms (so huge, that at some point two of them had been partitioned off, given an outside staircase and a kitchenette, and rented out as an apartment), a dining room that seated fifteen, a living room that spanned one entire side of the house and opened onto an equally large porch with two sets of french doors. Baby grand piano. She lived in it alone for as long as I knew her, scrimping on the heating and cooling to save money. Probably would have been better off selling it, or renting it out. But we had the most lovely holidays there-- room for our whole family to trundle in from out of town and not crowd the place, and have all the aunts and uncles and cousins over for Christmas dinner. I feel weirdly hypocritical, because I loved that house. It was magical, with glass doorknobs and skeleton keys and arched doorways and a banister rail that curled around at the bottom. Absolute miracle we didn't die trying to slide down it. But I have been in a lot of equally large houses that were dull as dishwater by comparison. The proportions are wrong. There's so much wasted space, and so little to love. The windows are too wide and they aren't meant to open. Drywall *feels* different from plaster and lath. I don't know why. I still dream about that house-- even the way it smelled was magical. Sandalwood, lavender, and antique furniture.
Which is a long way of saying I'm not sure size is the primary problem. But modern houses use size to make up for poor design and lack of workmanship, and the total absence of grace, so size becomes a marker for awful houses. As though you could make up for cheap construction by giving it a ton of floor space to cram full of crappy mass-produced furniture and unnecessary appliances. You'd never say a suburban McMansion had generous proportions or spacious rooms. You can only call it "big".
I think there's definitely an etheric-starvation element to diabetes. I come from a family of diabetics, and teeter on the brink of that problem myself. Most food... whether I like it or don't like it, simply doesn't have the ability to get me to satiety. I still want more, even when I have eaten so much I feel physically uncomfortable. How can you still feel empty when your stuffed guts are crying out for mercy! And this is in a house where we cook everything, and don't bring home junk food. We don't eat out. There's got to be a reason for this! That even if I start with *ingredients* and cook it... there is not enough hearty chili-from-dry-beans in the universe to make me feel *not hungry*. Following my church's fasting schedule helps a bit, but I'm horrible at sticking to it.
Interestingly, if I eat a meal that consists at least half of garden produce, it's vastly more satisfying. It's been a blockbuster year for green beans, and for whatever reason, they are calorically light, but immensely filling.
My other grandmother was T2 diabetic, as were nine of her siblings. She was the only one who never became insulin dependent or demented. She cooked at home, but... veg-all casseroles and sugarfree yogurt like everyone else at the time. The thing she did different was that she loved plants. She never lived anywhere she didn't have a patio crowded with tropical plants that she groomed and watered, and a long windowsill full of african violets. Maybe she was getting from her plants some of what she was missing from her food.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: Look back at the college campus freakout videos from the past 10 years
Date: 2020-09-07 06:54 pm (UTC)Which is a long way of saying I'm not sure size is the primary problem. But modern houses use size to make up for poor design and lack of workmanship, and the total absence of grace, so size becomes a marker for awful houses. As though you could make up for cheap construction by giving it a ton of floor space to cram full of crappy mass-produced furniture and unnecessary appliances. You'd never say a suburban McMansion had generous proportions or spacious rooms. You can only call it "big".
I think there's definitely an etheric-starvation element to diabetes. I come from a family of diabetics, and teeter on the brink of that problem myself. Most food... whether I like it or don't like it, simply doesn't have the ability to get me to satiety. I still want more, even when I have eaten so much I feel physically uncomfortable. How can you still feel empty when your stuffed guts are crying out for mercy! And this is in a house where we cook everything, and don't bring home junk food. We don't eat out. There's got to be a reason for this! That even if I start with *ingredients* and cook it... there is not enough hearty chili-from-dry-beans in the universe to make me feel *not hungry*. Following my church's fasting schedule helps a bit, but I'm horrible at sticking to it.
Interestingly, if I eat a meal that consists at least half of garden produce, it's vastly more satisfying. It's been a blockbuster year for green beans, and for whatever reason, they are calorically light, but immensely filling.
My other grandmother was T2 diabetic, as were nine of her siblings. She was the only one who never became insulin dependent or demented. She cooked at home, but... veg-all casseroles and sugarfree yogurt like everyone else at the time. The thing she did different was that she loved plants. She never lived anywhere she didn't have a patio crowded with tropical plants that she groomed and watered, and a long windowsill full of african violets. Maybe she was getting from her plants some of what she was missing from her food.