taste enemies, not buds

My main complaint is this taste thing. I am as hungry as ever, but wish there were a way of bypassing my mouth to fill my stomach directly. Aside from texture, there is little difference between pizza, peanut butter, fish, coffee, bananas, or jello. All taste pretty bad. I have had to spit out part of every "meal" I've tried. The spitting out comes with that cack cack blecch ptooey ritual into the sink. Not losing my cookies; just abruptly unwilling to chew on them anymore.

Even water doesn't taste good, and I am supposed to be drinking a half gallon a day.

The human family would not have made it for very long without our reliable friends, well-functioning taste buds. It's just too much effort to nourish yourself without good tastes to encourage you. This must be how Bear, our dog, feels about a life of dry dog food. Eventually he'll eat it, but only because we haven't buckled and provided something more appealing. It's eat this or perish, Bear; what's it gonna be. I'll bet he thinks the same thing: I'll eat this because I have to, but I'm going to feel sorry for myself while I work my way through each bite. And I'll cack cack bleccch ptooey just a few kibbles on the floor in protest.

El says that if I haven't written in my blog for awhile, that's when she worries. It makes sense. I have markedly lower energy than usual, and though blogging gives me energy, first it takes it. I've done good 3+ mile walks the past few days, but have to push myself along. I tried to run, but that didn't work. I eat, but only because my stomach demands it. I have started to take late morning naps. Yowza. I am not depressed, but Laura keeps checking in to make sure: some of my behavior looks depressed. And I blame it all on the taste buds. Taste enemies, that is -- these are no buds of mine.