Dan, can't you see that big green tree where the water's flowing free and it's waiting there for me and you? (a.k.a. Well Done Broke, Part 1)

Well, we're having trouble with our well.

Again.

We've been having issues with the well, and the amount of water we can pull from it, on and off practically since we moved into the house. On most days it's great. Once in a while, though, it runs dry for a spell, returning again a few hours later. We can usually tell when the well is getting low because our water begins to smell of sulfur and we then treat it with care for a few days until we think it's risen to a level that will again allow us to run the dishwasher. Usually the summer months are the worst, and this summer has been particularly dry. So dry that we didn't feel we could water our lawn and had to use our ever dwindling rain barrel water supply to water the plants in the flower beds. My back lawn--which I had replanted last fall after the drought of last summer, and had been babying back to life--pretty much dried up and blew away. Even with this, though, we've counted ourselves lucky because we have a number of neighbors who have no water in the summer at all and have to import it in 500 gallon containers.

In August, my in-laws were visiting and our water began to smell a bit funny. We thought we were low. My father-in-law proposed that we drop a line down the well pipe and see just how deep the sucker was and how much water we actually had in it. This might give us a better idea if we needed a new well drilled or if there was another, cheaper solution. We lowered a wrench on a stout line, then had to tie kite string to that line when we ran out of line. When we struck what we thought was bottom, we were at 380 feet. Over 200 of those feet were wet when we pulled the line back up, which told us we had some water. But we first theorized that perhaps the pump was only seated in, say, 20 or 30 of those feet, which would give it a limited amount of water to pull from. We also quickly realized we probably weren't up to the job of lowering it ourselves, as that involves having to add more pipe and potentially more wire--assuming our theory was right in the first place.

We called a local plumbing and well company to come and have a look and told them our theory. The guy who came out didn't blink twice at what we said and told us he could lower the pump, no problem. First he dropped a few rocks down the well pipe and listened to them hit, but our theory sounded as good as anything to him. The company he worked for, he added, would probably charge $1200 for it, but he was willing to come back after hours and do the job for $200. This sounded like a bargain, but it also sounded like a guy trying to undercut his own employer. Beyond the bad taste we got from the idea of dealing with a guy so willing to undercut the man who paid his wages, we decided that it also wouldn't look right to include such an under the table job in the paperwork pile we have about the house, which would be passed on to future owners of our place. We told him we preferred to do it on the books. He then phoned his employer to get an official estimate of what the job would cost and came back to tell us it was actually $3200. That seemed like quite a jump to us, so we declined. Instead, we called for a second opinion by an actual well digging company (as opposed to a plumber that also did well service).

Our new well guy, Dave, came out a few days later. He quickly and professionally pointed out that our well was actually deeper than 380 feet, but that the pump was actually sitting at the 380 foot mark, which is what pa and I had hit with the wrench. And to prove it, Dave busted out a sonar device that told us what the water depth of the water level in the pipe. There seemed to be plenty of water in there that day, at least, until we proceeded to run the well completely dry via the water hose. We did this both to see how fast our water would flow out (8 gallons a minute) and to lower the pump level to show us exactly where it was located compared to the previous level of the water in the pipe. Took half an hour. After that, Dave did sonar calculations to determine how fast the water returned to the well from its underground source. Not very fast. Only about 12 gallons an hour. So it would take a few days to return to the level it had been at before he arrived. In the meanwhile, he recharged our pressure tank that regulated the water pressure within the house. He said that it had dropped in pressure from its standard level, which was a sign that it was going bad. He didn't want to replace it then and there, but warned that if our pressure began to waiver wildly we'd better have it done or it could burn up the pump if it dropped all of its pressure. He also replaced the power unit for the pump.

And while Dave was under the house, he asked if we had any extra water filters for our whole house filter system. He figured he'd change it out and have a look at the amount of silt in it. It was pretty nasty, but had been changed less than two months previously and it's supposed to be a three month filter. I told him that I hated that filter system, because it was terribly difficult to change. It was woefully hard to get the damn housing for it unscrewed and after the filter was replaced was equally difficult to get it screwed back on without leaking. Dave said he'd fix it with a little plumbers goo. He smeared some around the threads, gave it one crank with the filter wrench and it was set and sealed. Amazing!

At the end of the time, Dave said he didn't think we were in such dire straits that we needed a new well to be dug, but we certainly didn't have much more for standard household use and certainly not enough for watering the lawn. He suggested another option would be to install a reserve tank which could pull 500 gallons of water from the well gradually and then be there for use whenever we needed it, connecting to our existing plumbing. It sounded like a good plan, but the other wrinkle is that our outside-the-city-limits neighborhood was slated to get city water sometime in the relatively new future.

(TO BE CONTINUED...)

(Partially) Juicin' Juice: Day 10 of 10

Nothing major to report. We're still partially juicing and not going nuts on junk food. Can't say that the weight loss has continued at its pre-solid-food pace. In fact, I'd say it's reversed a bit, but that's to be expected. Probably the worst thing we've eaten so far was some frozen custard. I still have a hankering for those Quarter Pounders, but I've avoided McDonalds'. Might head there on my free day. Might not. After all, the new pizza restaurant might be open by then.

By the way, I finally tried butternut squash juice today. Awesome stuff! I was a little dubious as to what it would taste like, but it's very nice. Kind of a pain in the ass to get all the skin off of it, and there's not as much juice produced as you'd think, but it's very good. And you can save the pulp for making soup.

So, today would have been our final day on the juice fast, had we stuck exclusively to it. Have to say, it was overall a positive experience, though I don't recommend a full 10 day stretch at it. Five is probably enough for a reboot, seven if you're feeling up to it. And so far my continuing caffeine fast has gone pretty well. I miss coffee, but not as much as I thought I would. I can't say I feel all that different off it than I did on it, at least during waking hours. At night I have tended to sleep quite a bit better. My brain is not as apt to wake up at 4 a.m. and not be able to go back to sleep. That's been good.

(Partially) Juicin' Juice: Day 9 of 10

The wife and I breakfasted on a tomato omelet and some grapefruit/pear/apple/plum/beet juice with a hint of ginger. I have to say, the beet, while unholy and dirt-like in taste, is not too bad in small amounts. It always lends an interesting color to things, (before and after digestion, I've found).

We had errands and appointments to meet that day, so we were out for a while. I was hoping the new pizza place would be open, because I'm hankering for some. It was still under pre-opening repairs, however, so we drove on. The only other pizza buffet option available is The Hut, but the wife has an aversion to it for some reason. It was always my favorite growing up, and I worked for one in college, so I have an affinity for it. Not her. Despite the fact that she always enjoys what we get whenever we visit one, she won't willingly go. So we wound up having lunch at crApplebee's. We got their never ending soup and salad, which was pretty nice. During our meal, as I shoveled another bacony bite of spinach salad into my gob, I said to her, "Can you believe that if we had stuck to the full 10 days, we would still have another full day after this? I'm so glad we quit."

And I think that might be at least an unspoken half-goal of doing a juice fast: showing yourself that no matter how good juicing can be for you, eating solid foods is pretty awesome. Even the spinachy ones. You develop a real appreciation for being able to eat real food again, so much so that I haven't yet had the overwhelming desire to just go nuts and buy those Quarter Pounders I'd promised myself. I think sticking to a generally healthy diet, accompanied by juice, during the week will be enough so I can take a free day on the weekend and enjoy some of the junkier things in life. This free day concept is a major part of Tim Ferriss's Slow Carb diet. It made that diet tolerable. Well, that and the glass of dry red wine he allowed each evening. I'm hoping I can still lose a little weight at it, because nothing would please me more than going to my next checkup, having Dr. Ralph ask me what I've done to lose weight and before he can even get the question out say, "Juicin'."

(Partially) Juicin' Juice: Day 8 of 10

Eight a.m. came like Christmas morning. The wife and I arose, dressed and headed to the car for our trip to the Shoney's Breakfast Buffet. She had already warned me this was a bad idea, because my stomach would not easily accommodate the usual amount of grub I eat there without cramping up and making me sick. And that was just the immediate effects. She predicted that I would see other effects later, in the poop closet. She said she spoke from experience, because her first session of salmon and veggies was met with such effects, and she'd only eaten half of it. I feared not, and marched confidently into Shoney's and had a seat. Other than ordering hot water and lemons instead of coffee, this was going to be a normal day.

I loaded up one plate of breakfasty goodness, staying clear of anything sugar-based. Basically just some scrambled eggs, a couple strips of bacon, some breakfast casserole, some dirty rice and a bowl of grits. I then got an additional salad bar plate with some melon, grapes and cherry tomatoes. I sat and ate my first bite of solid food in an entire week. It was not the bacon, as I've been dreaming, but instead one of the cherry tomatoes, just to be cheeky and to ape the actions of the guy who started all this, Joe Cross, who (SPOILERS) ate an apple as his first solid food in 60 days. The tomato was terrible. Not even ripe. I cast the uneaten half of it down and proceeded into the grits.

During the meal, the wife would pipe up every few minutes and ask how I was feeling. I felt fine. This is not to say, though, that the food didn't feel different as it landed in my stomach. It didn't feel bad, but something definitely felt different about it. Kind of like the extra sensitivity you can feel through your skin after you break your arm and finally get the cast off. I could feel the food filling up my belly. It felt odd, but not bad. Normally, I'm a two plate man at the breakfast buffet. I get all the stuff I want on the first trip, then head back for probably a half-plate worth of the stuff I really like, such as more bacon and breakfast casserole. However, as much as I like the idea of going back for more, I decided to just sit there and let things settle a bit and see what happened. If I was going to be seized with cramps, might as well not waste any food for the trouble. After a couple of minutes, though, I realized I felt fine, but also satisfied and didn't feel a need to return for any more. I'd had more than I normally eat for breakfast already.

And that was really the worst thing I ate for my first day back on solid food. Sure, I'd been having fantasies of hitting McDonalds or a pizza buffet all week, but it's that kind of eating that got me into the shape I'm in and while I'm on the way back down the scale, it'd be a good idea to keep tight limits on that sort of behavior.

For lunch I drank a glass of fruit and veg juice. I even enjoyed eating a few raw grapes as I fed their siblings into the hopper. And then for dinner, we had some chicken stew that the wife made using some of the other veggies we had on hand. Normally, I'm not as big a fan of soups where the veggie to meat ratio is skewed in the veggies' favor, but this was really good. It was nice to be able to taste the individual vegetables without it being a mixture.

But making daily juices is the way we plan to continue using our juicer--as a supplement to solid food and as an occasional quick meal replacement. My guess is that this will not only keep us healthier, but will further encourage weight loss.

As to the poop closet ramifications to returning to solid foods and loading up on greasy bacon as a first meal... yeah, there were some. Nothing too awful, though.

Juicin' Juice: Day 7 of 7

Hey, welcome to day 7. Yep, that's day 7 of a 7 day juice fast. Boy howdy, it's a good thing we decided to do a 7 day juice fast instead of one of them 10 day juice fasts, cause... cause ten would have just been... um... stupid. Seven. Yessir, that's the magic number. Seven. Some people call it a week.

*sigh*

We awoke and lay in bed for a good while without speaking of food. I didn't want to bring it up, cause I was afraid the wife would say something like, "Well, I'm headed out for breakfast burritos. You're welcome to come if you like," which would force me into decision-time. Then again, part of me was also afraid that she wouldn't say it.

So we lay there, reading our books until our stomachs began to growl.

"I guess I better get up and drink some juice," she said. "My stomach's going nuts."

"Yeah," I said. "Me too."

I tried to drink another glass of the bright red beet concoction from yesterday afternoon, but it was horrifying. The wife mixed some of the remainder of her fruit-based juice that she'd liked from the day before into it and told me to try that. It was better, but arguably so. I got it down.

We sat in the living room, watching Doctor Who, while the wife looked for juice recipes online. Around lunch, the wife said she should get up and make something else. I told her that I should too, because I was having visions of french fries. She tried one of the recipes she'd found, which was supposed to be a cleansing juice. It contained half a grapefruit, half a beet, a quarter lemon, a handful of grapes and two apples. I was leery of anything involving beets, but it was delightful. One of the best juice combos I've tasted. Maybe the real trick to this is to stick to tried and true recipes rather than our more experimental efforts thus far.

Mid afternoon, the wife walked over to me as I sat in a low chair watching TV. She smiled, reached her hands out, took mine in hers and attempted to bring me to my feet in a kind of come-hither way.

"So..." she said with a coy smile. "Let's you and me... go get... those fries."

It was perhaps the sexiest thing she's ever said to me. But I still couldn't do it. I locked my knees. "No, don't make me go eat fries!" I cried.

"No, no," she said, hooking a foot under my knee to bend it. "Lift its little leg," she said.

"Nooooo. We can't, we can't," I said, rising to my feet, my stomach already growling at the prospect of fries. In that moment, I was weak and ready to give in.

"Well, at least let's just eat some stir fried veggies and leftover salmon," she said.

"But... but," I began. Then I considered this. If we were really going to stay home and not eat French fries, then I might as well just keep drinking juice. Veggies and salmon were healthy things to eat, but I'd not been on the diet for even a full week. I couldn't give in so quickly. At the very least I should do the full week, right? I argued this to the wife.

"So we're not going to eat any real food?" she asked.

I thought for a bit, weighed my heart's desire in the matter, then said the opposite. "No."

My wife began cursing the very name of juice. (Actual juice, not me.) She said she was tired of drinking it, she didn't want any of it, not even the good stuff. She needed some solid grub! And then, turning toward the kitchen, she announced. "I'm done."

I protested that I was not. I'd nearly made it a week and as much as I wanted to tuck into some salmon (or head for McDonalds) I just didn't want to do it until after I'd been on for the full week. Somehow the number was important. After all, most people who do a juice fast (except for stupid Joe Cross and his stupid 60 days) only do a five day cleanse. The majority of people don't make it to seven days, let alone ten. But if we could only make it to seven, that would at least be something. The wife then pointed out that it was already past lunch time, so I was only really talking about the difference of one meal and a few hours. This made sense to me. In particular, it made sense to my interior engines of rationalization, which had kicked into overdrive. But still I fought the urges to give in back and beat them about the face with a beer bottle... (Mmmm beer. Forgot about that stuff.) If I made it to at least seven total days, I could forever more say, "I went without solid food for a week." It doesn't sound nearly as good to say, "I went without solid food for six and a half days."

Temptation be damned, I was going to go the full week!

So while my wife cooked up some amazing smelling veggies and salmon into a stir fry, I feasted on a fruit juice combo and looked all surly about it. I wasn't mad at the wife for eating. I knew exactly how she felt and wanted to join in. But I was irritated at my own predicament. I didn't want any more juice, was determined to get through my week of no solid food, but still mad that I couldn't have what I really wanted, which was a cheeseburger and fries.

"Oh, don't be so cranky," the wife said, looking at my grimace of hunger.

We had to go to Wal-Mart a bit later on. I didn't trust myself to go close to the food section. Too many bags of Nutter Butters lurk in there. The wife seemed astounded we'd even made it to Wal-Mart, though. She thought I would just keep driving past it and head right to McDonalds.

"Don't think I haven't thought about making a midnight run there," I said.

We returned home whereupon the wife made for me the same kind of delightful citrus/apple/beet juice she'd made earlier. She had to add some extra grapefruit, though, cause it was too beety on first sip. If I never see a beet again it will be too soon.

I then sat for the rest of the evening, grumpy yet determined to get through it. I succeeded, but as I went to sleep my stomach was already growling with thoughts of Shoney's breakfast bar.

Juicin' Juice: Day 6 of 10

The wife did indeed go back on her juice fast today. She took the leftover salmon and veggies she'd not finished back to work with her, just in case, but she also made a mass quantity of a very nice fruit-based juice this morning that had no yuck-factor.

Meanwhile, I was left with a cauldron of the less-than-nice juice's she made over the past couple of days, that I can't bring myself to pour out. I drank a glass of it for breakfast and it was pretty awful. At lunch, I tried again but only made it half way before accidentally pouring the rest of it into our countertop compost bin. At least the nutrients won't go entirely to waste.

I made a replacement juice that was pretty nice. However, the afternoon brought more thoughts of the sort of food I'd rather be eating. During a trip to Wally World, the smell of the chicken fingers at their deli was intoxicating. And it sucks that the veggie and fruit aisle is right there by the deli. I bought some of the standard juicing fruits and veg and then branched out into some beets and a couple of starfruit. I then went home and was determined to make another of my soup-like juices.

I juiced half a red pepper and then one of the beets. I've never liked beets. They taste like dirt. I've even given them second and third chances, but no matter if they're salted, peppered, wrapped and roasted on low heat for two hours, they still just taste like dirt. I tried the beet juice raw with a spoon. It didn't taste like dirt. It was earthy, by all means, but not dirty. Actually, the bright blood red stuff was very sweet. I didn't think it would work well in a savory juice, so I then added pear, grapefruit, celery and starfruit to the mix. When it was finished, it was the sweet equivalent of the nasty savory juice the wife had been unable to finish. I got a glass of it down, but almost regretted it. I put the rest in a container and stuck it in the fridge.

So pretty much the whole day was spent drinking nasty, unwise juice concoctions.

The wife came home and confessed that she'd eaten one tortilla chip with salsa at work that day. The whole office was doing chips and salsa, so she allowed herself the one. I told her that was fine, but that I would rat her out on the blog.

"Do you think we should just do a nine day fast?" she asked.

"Why?" I said. But even as I did, I could feel my heart warming to the idea, particularly after my day of shitty juice.

The wife's reasoning was that she would have to go back to work on Thursday, which would be Day 11 of this 10 day fast and thus the first day of solid food. What fun would it be to head back to work for three days and not be able to go out to dinner to celebrate. (I had wondered about that, myself, but had already planned to give myself a free day on Thursday and eat some of the things I've been craving regardless.) Plus, she said she was now well and truly sick of drinking juice, even the good stuff, and was ready to have an end of it. She knew we were perfectly capable of making it the full 10 days if we wanted to, but she didn't really want to anymore. She didn't want to stop drinking juice altogether, mind you, as it's been her goal in this to incorporate the stuff on a daily basis for nutrition's sake. She didn't want to pig out on junk; she'd be perfectly happy to eat stir fried veggies and salmon, as long as she could have some food. As much as I wanted to say, yeah, let's quit after six days, then wait for midnight and make a McDonald's run, I knew that as a team partner in this it was my job to try to keep us on track. Moments of weakness could be expected, but as much as we both wanted to have a rest from juice, I felt responsibility to stay on program and encourage her to as well. Plus I'd already started blogging about the whole thing (Damn my ever-typing fingers!) and felt a responsibility not to bail on it unless I had to.

I tried to be encouraging and point out that we'd already made it 6 days, what was four more? It was really like three days, if you thought about it hard enough. She wasn't buying it.

Meanwhile, my body was seized with a fit of itching like you wouldn't believe. I don't know that it's food-related, either, because it had been a while since I'd had any juice. Fortunately, the wife offered to scratch my back for me and that was bliss.

As we went to bed, it still seemed an open question as to whether or not we, or at least she, would remain on the fast come the morning. I had to admit, though, that the idea of waking up and heading to Shoney's was tantalizing.

Juicin' Juice: Day 5 of 10

This morning the wife made a fruity juice for breakfast, then took extra caution to try and make a better-tasting savory juice for her lunch and dinner gulps at work. As she ground each ingredient, she stuck a spoon under the flow to test each item to see which one might have infected her batch yesterday. It wasn't even a matter of testing for the initial taste of the juice, but instead the aftertaste. She still wasn't sure which one it was, but decided that the half runner beans I'd bought didn't taste good at all in juice form. I had a spoon of that, too, but it just tasted inoffensively like snow peas to me.

My own breakfast juice was different and tangy, for today I incorporated that old breakfast staple of grapefruit, along with pear, apple, mango, grapes and strawberries. The end result tasted like one ingredient too many (probably the mango), but was still good.

I went out to buy some celery in the day, which didn't make it into my cart on yesterday's grocery excursion. Celery contains an impressive amount of juice. I guess this makes up for the veggies we try that barely have any. It's so disappointing to feed two cups of spinach or some broccoli into the hopper only to have two drops of juice come out. We have acquired more skill at running the machine, learning to juice each item as slowly as we can to extract the most from it. However, some fruits are just over ripe to begin with and just explode when they hit the whirling blade disc, and their wet pulp just flies past the mesh screen and into the pulp container. Had some sprite melons do that this morning. Celery, though, juices like a charm.

While I was out, I happened to drive past several fast food places without incident, but when I hit the stretch nearing McDonalds my brain kicked in and I imagined how amazing it would be to order two Quarter Pounders and a truly large order of fries, no doubt forced from the fry cook's hands at gunpoint, cause that's about the only way McDonalds will treat you fairly on the fries here. (And speaking of McDonald's passing the cheap on to the customers, I don't normally eat two Quarter Pounders, but I've noticed recently that McDonald's Quarter Pounders have gotten quite a bit smaller than they used to be. They used to be a substantial sandwich, but now they're barely more than one of their standard cheeseburgers in size. Did the price shrink as well? I doubt it. Don't think this sort of food embezzlement is going unnoticed, Ron!) As soon as I had this lovely vision, my mouth began to water. And it was in that moment that I realized that I had the power to make that vision a reality if I wanted. I could eat four Quarter Pounders, if I so chose and would enjoy every bite. But at the same time, I wasn't so hungry or impulse driven that I would break my juice fast barely five days into it. I assure you, after my fast is over, those burgers and fries will be mine as a reward, but I'm still doing pretty good.

I did notice as I was nearing home, that I was feeling a bit mentally hazy. I've been expecting my brain, free from the ravages of caffeine, to snap into some sort of clarity, but at that moment I wasn't feeling it. I felt like having a nap, in fact. I didn't, but I felt like it.

Turns out I wasn't the only one feeling mentally down. Late in the afternoon, I texted the wife about something and her response was "Yeep…this juice is awedful….I am dying. Weak, can’t think… headache… can’t drin k it." I started to write her back to see if I needed to mix something else up to bring to her, but the phone rang first. She said she felt awful and her brain wasn't functioning right. She was forgetting to write prescriptions and couldn't remember which patient was in which room and generally screwing up her job.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Would you please bring me some stir-fried vegetables and some salmon?"

"Uh... really?"

"Yes. Really," she said. "I can go back on juice tomorrow, but I need food right now. I can't work like this."

"All right, then," I said. "See you when it's done."

So I went to the freezer and retrieved one of our precious frozen salmon filets, all Alaskany and everything, and fried that sucker up along with some zucchini, red peppers, broccoli and squash. And not tasting any of it, dammit. It was incredibly hard, because my favorite bits are the little bits of salmon that flake off and get all crispy in the bottom of the pan, and there was a really good looking one in there, too. I even started to pop it in my mouth, then forced my hand down. I completely understood and agreed with the wife's reasons for going off the diet, but as much as I wanted to, as much as I wanted to drop off her fish and head directly for my Quarter Pounders, I just didn't want break the fast. If you'd asked me on day one if I truly thought I'd make it through all 10, I would have told you that I wouldn't be at all surprised to only make it 5. Five seemed like a good and doable number. Now, on day 5, half way to the end point, I knew how much better I would feel if I didn't.

I put half the salmon and all of the veg in some Tupperware and ran it up to the wife and hung around while she ate some of it. She was afraid to eat too much, especially as rich as salmon is, for fear of hurling, but she said it was very good and kept offering me bites. I declined. Instead, I drank the rest of the juice that she couldn't stand. It didn't seem too bad to me. Not my favorite, but not the worst I've tasted, or even made myself. I took the remaining bottle of it home, intent on trying to doctor it. Instead, I just poured into it the remainder of my juice from lunch and the wife's evil juice from the night before, shook it up, poured myself a glass and took a big sip. It was definitely worse than the juice I tried earlier, but still not the worst. I finished the glass, then went and brushed my teeth, cause the aftertaste was not enjoyable. Sucks to be me, cause there's at least two more glasses in that container, the wife won't touch it and those veggies and fruits cost way too much to just pour it down the drain. We'll just have to learn to juice better next time.

The wife says she intends on getting back on the juicin' horse as of tonight. She just needed food for her brain today.

Still no headaches from caffeine loss. However, I have been especially itchy. I woke up last night itching and scratched until the itches were bumps. It was like having scabies or something. I wonder if there's something I'm juicing that my system isn't fond of, or if I just really do have scabies.

As if that wasn't a gross enough thought, I'm now at the end of day 5 of this thing and I've not stopped pooping yet. Evidently my wife's occasional claims that I'm full of shit have some merit to them after all.