The missionary family here left me some greens, some sort of “lettuce”. I saw them in the fridge today and at first thought that maybe I had some spinach left over, but no, I had eaten it all. When I pulled them out, I recognized them as the lettuce that was left behind. I didn’t want to eat them raw, so I washed them and boiled them in the rice cooker with garlic and toasted three slices of bread in the waffle iron. That made 7 thick slices of bread today. The greens were interesting. With some salt, at first I liked them, but by the time I finished them, I can’t say for sure. I think I’d eat them again, but spinach is better. Maybe they are better raw. I didn’t feel adventurous enough, though it was quite an adventure eating them.
The skinny, blonde dog—that is now wearing a pink shirt since last Sabbath, if not Friday or Thursday (it was probably one of the neighbors who dressed it, maybe its owner)—came around when I was dumping the first batch of scraps. It seems to be a fussy eater, so even though there was some oat scrapings in the scrap pile which it probably could have eaten, but didn’t seem interested in (though maybe it went or will go back later to eat it), I tossed two beef jerky style dog treats outside for it and went back to preparing lunch, or cleaning up (whatever I was doing at the time)
By the time I finished lunch, I had eaten two more slices of bread. Having eaten the entire loaf of bread in one day, and now being down to one loaf from the original 3 (in less than a week’s time), I am thankful that the bakery is closed for a while. I ate too much, and my belly is full. I need to get my act together and cut down on the coconut oil (which I have already used over half the bottle), the salt, and the flour. Tomorrow, perhaps I aught to have oats or rice or sesame for breakfast, and lots of bananas, because I have lots of those. To get a little exercise, I washed the dishes and took out the scraps, and then went outside to move around a little bit. I thought of closing the gate, but decided not to go down by the road dressed as I am. Instead, I decided to check on the fish (which for some reason in my mind I am calling “Chuckee”), which I have been and still am praying for. Surprisingly, the fish was no longer belly-up, but vertical, or almost vertical, nose and mouth up, moving its mouth as though sucking in water and food (probably both). I began to fill the jug and to pour in more water. Each time, the fish reacted. At least once or twice, I could see it swim to the bottom, but for some reason it rolled and floated back to the top. It seems to be longer than the diameter of the bottom, and I wonder if, perhaps, it is uncomfortable down there. The fish seemed to react well to more and more water, so I filled the bin. It continued to swim, and come back up, sucking in more water and food. Without my interference, when it bumped against the side of the bin, it moved again.
So the fish is alive, and no longer belly up. Praise God! I am thanking God that the fish is alive, and seems to be doing better now, and am still praying for the fish.