RAW

At my age I can’t afford to be subtle. This is it, raw, me, unedited, no supervision. C’est la vie.

This is not my first time at the rodeo, this is not even the first time that I’ve been thrown by that damn bull. It is, however the first time that I’ve felt completely hopeless. I have no desire to get back up on that bull. In fact, I would much rather walk away entirely if not just stand there and let the stupid thing run me down.  

I can pretend no more. I hate my job. The only good that has come from this is that I now have something in my life that  bothers me more that my issues with food and age.

Yeehaw! Lucky me.

What's Your Mood?

You know those ‟What’s your mood?” posters that hang on every teacher's lounge refrigerator - or maybe it’s on the back of the Office Managers door?  It’s somewhere.  Look.  I know you’ll find at least one in every office. The ones where you just select the picture that shows your mood today. I never know if they are placed there as a way to encourage everyone to find a happy place, or to warn us that someone is close by who should be avoided.

I think I might need to get a couple of those; one for work, and one for home.  The first one would be to show the outward, public view of being confident and happy while occasionally exhausted and hopeful: that’s the one that everyone can see - the public me. I spent way too much time and money earning a degree in theatre not to put it to some use, right? Anyway, I mustn’t forget my mantra, “It’s all good.”  I like the way my friend put it today: he said it was “Ducky!” I like that - Ducky.  Of course, he had to explain it to the 17 year old kid standing next to him, but still ... I like the visual and, after all, it ties into my Disco Duck team. So there you go!  I’m just Ducky!  Stuff just rolls off me like water off a duck's back, right?  Right! ... until I get home.

And then, the curtain closes, the show is over, I take off my duck suit, and I’m left with just me. It’s then I need that other mood chart. I need it to show my true internal view of depression, anxiousness, and frustration. It’s then, when there is nothing to keep everything away that all the “stuff” hits me. All those bits and pieces of the day that had bounced around me tumble back and begin to nag at me once again. Why didn’t I do this? Why did I do that? Was I supposed to do that lesson?  How am I ever going to get through this year? I know I’ll eat lots of FOOD??? NOOO!!... Okay

Those feelings, I guess, we all get from time to time, of uncertainty in our future, our jobs, our decisions. I know I’m not alone in this dilemma, nor are these feelings of frustration unique to just the issue of my work. To compound this mess, I continue to struggle daily with the whole idea of diet and exercise, and the very idea that I can’t have a birthday without getting older is just ludicrous.  I wake every morning and am amazed that I have come through another night. I half expect that God is just waiting for that perfect moment when I’m not looking, to drop the other proverbial shoe, not to be cruel, just because it will be funny. God understands the importance of humor.

Back to School

This has been the longest week of my life; at least it feels like that. Why is it that I first set foot in that room in early August - more that 3 weeks ago - and I’ve been working my *## off for the last week to get it finished?  I must admit that I’ve worked harder at getting ready for the beginning of this school year more  than I have for any other year in a long time.  I had become complacent and almost stagnant just doing what we had done the year before because that’s what “they” do.  I knew the routines and the curriculum; I knew the 5th graders well enough to anticipate their next move and keep ahead of them (most of the time) and, if all else fails, I’ve spent enough time on stage and can ad lib ‘til lunch. 

But this is different: these kids are ... well, kids.  They are still sweet.  They haven’t turned to the dark side yet.  I still have a chance with them - I’ve pulled out all my puppets and hats, stuffed animals have been strategically placed around the room, kid-friendly Disco music is on the CD, and my personalized Garfield posters are on the door. All is good! What could go wrong?

Don’t answer that.

Leave My Relatives Out of This!

I believe it was Albert Einstein that said “All time...is relative.” What the heck was he talking about? With very few exceptions, no one in my family has good timing. In fact, I would have to say that time management is a major issue with me both genetically and thru marriage. Now when it comes to getting somewhere on time, I can do that, but try and get something done...well, that’s another story. Like the old sign used to say, “ Procrastinators meeting postponed.”  Here it is, the end of the summer, with school starting up in only a week, and I’m nowhere near ready. I have no clue as to what I doing, I don’t know where anything goes, I have nothing on the walls, I have no copies made, no lesson plans, Arrrgggggh!!!!!................sorry - I lost it there for a moment. I’m okay now. It’s all good.  Everything’s going to be fine once I get a chance to meet with the rest of my team. (Breathe in, breathe out.)

I don’t know why I should be surprised by this turn of events. I have found myself in situations like this for most of my life. When I did theatre for a living, one of our sayings around the shop was, “you can have it two of three ways: cheap, fast, good - choose.” Most of the people I worked with wanted it fast and good, and had the money to pay for it, so everything got done at the last minute. You get used to that. Even in college, when there was a paper or project due ... yep, you guessed it - I was one of those who waited until the very last minute to do anything. That’s how I can tell when my students do the same thing.

So here I am, half a century later, still trying to figure out a way to get something done without actually putting out any effort on my part. If only I could live the day the way I see it in my mind when I wake up each morning. You know what I mean? When you run the day’s plan through your head and put in all the good well balanced meals, exercise, housework, quality family time, and still to bed by 10pm. You know those mornings - I’m sure we make those kinds of ‟this will be a perfect day” plans, only to have them struck down by the crippling forces of reality.

My reality said, “Wake up, Butt-Head! You’ve got less that a week to get your act together.  You can do this! Turn the music up, stop messing around and just do something. If it’s not perfect, fix it.” It’s that simple.

--note for anyone looking for misspellings : Theatre - used for stage productions
                                                              Theater - used for movies

Baggy Pants

Yesterday, I pulled my sewing machine out of the closet and found all the pieces.  It still works! Even more amazing, I remembered how to fill the bobbin and thread the machine. The joke here is that I hate to sew or, more accurately, sewing hates me. In graduate school, if I walked in the costume shop, someone just took what ever I had and did it for me. I had a reputation for “killing” sewing machines. It wasn’t pretty. 

So if I don’t really like to sew,  why do I have a sewing machine and why does it matter that it works, you might ask?  Good question. I’m glad you asked. It’s simple, really. I’ve lost just enough weight that none of my clothes look good on me. My pants are so baggy that I can pull them off without unzipping them. I can’t really afford to buy a new wardrobe, so I needed to fix the one I had. Ta-Daaaaaa ... Oh Brother.  (Get it? I own a Brother sewing machine. I know - lame joke. Sorry.) 

I’m amazed at how quickly all that trivia about sewing and patterning came back to me when I started this little project.  I even found myself looking online at some cute holiday stuff and thinking, “I could sew that!” That’s scary - I just wanted my pants to fit.

My Son's Day

I spent the whole day out shopping with my teenage son.  We had a great time, lots of laughter and joking around. Of course, we were shopping for him, and we started with video games.  Still, it was a good day. This was one of those days where I didn’t worry about me and just focused on him.

You know how it is - every day there is something that slaps me in the face and demands some piece of me. Sometimes it’s my job; sometimes it’s my husband; and most of the time it’s food. It’s times like that when I get so wrapped up in my own life and my own problems that I forget that there are other people living around me.

So that was the way it was today. We drove all over town in search of the evasive collectibles, dropped in for a short visit with family, saw lots of slug bugs, indulged in fast food, and purchased the oddest-looking pair of shoes I’ve ever seen. All the while we talked - not like mom talking to son, but person talking to person. It was cool. I like my son. He’s a cool guy. I would like him even if he wasn’t my son.

I done gooood!!!

He's Dead Jim

I walk out of the waiting room quietly. A few tears began to fall as I drove away. When did the world become so heartless?  Where did the humanity go?

I thought back to the stories I use to read as a kid about the English country veterinarian James Herriot in the books All Creatures Great and Small. I think it’s only natural for a kid to dream about becoming a veterinarian someday - I know I did. I wanted to live in the country and have lots of land with horses, sheep, cows, dogs and, of course, a lot of cats. I would be surrounded each day by puppies and kittens. There would be lots of other people with plenty of other animals and life would be like a strange cross between a Disney film and a BBC 70's Sitcom. What could be more rewarding and wonderful right? Right. If only.    

No, sorry folks, Herriot’s dead and so are his ideals. "If you decide to become a veterinary surgeon you will never grow rich, but you will have a life of endless interest and variety." (Chapter 19, page 120., Herriot, All Creatures Great and Small) His words, not mine. This message he wrote about is no longer valid. Oh, the rhetoric might be there, but it’s all for show - the compassion is absent. Today, the heart of our veterinarians are not on our innocent pets, but on the dollars and cents in our bank accounts.

By now you may have figured out what has set me down this road. For awhile, through no fault of her own, my older cat has been showing signs of illness and I’ve been trying to treat her as best I can. She’s quite stubborn and has turned up her nose at almost every attempt. Seeing as it already is a struggle to keep things going from day to day, there is very little extra cash to pay a vet bill. Nevertheless, today I went to talk to the vet, hoping that I could work something out. After all, I have been with them for almost 10 years now and have always paid my bills....You guessed it. ‟I’m so sorry, but there’s nothing we can do for you, or even suggest that you should try (it’s that liability thing, you know). It looks like your cat will just have to die a slow painful death, and your only option is to stand there and watch. Have a nice day.”

 MY LIST

All summer I have had a long mental list of things I wanted to accomplish before I went back to work. Well, August is just around the corner, and my classroom is calling my name; I can feel it tugging me in to set it up. As much as I want to put off the beginning of another school year, I know it’s inevitable.

It is this unaccomplished list that’s got me in a tizzy. Sometimes I get so mad at myself for my obvious, inherent and abundant talent for procrastination.

There are some of the things on the list that I knew might not get done, mostly because they required my son to participate. He’s sixteen - need I say more? That’s okay, it’s his education. Ultimately, he is the one who is going to have to live with the results.

However, most of the problems lie directly with me and no one else. I am, if anything, a master of self-talk; I can lay in bed before I get up and plan the perfect day: Start with breakfast and a little Facebook time, followed by work in the garage, a nice lunch with hubby, craft time, and a light dinner, 30 min. evening walk and maybe some mindless TV before bed. Sounds good, doesn’t it? Yea!  If it happened that way. What really happens is: breakfast and Facebook/ computer stuff till around 11:30, some kind of lunch thing, I usually can’t get back on the computer because the teenager has it by then, so I go for the DVR and take a nap, wake up, watch a little more, get frustrated, confiscate computer till dinner, back to mindless TV, and finish up the evening with one more round of Facebook. 

Wow, it really looks bad when I see it written out like that. I’ve gotta fix this!                       

Green Coffee

I caught a clip of the Dr. Oz Show while I was surfing around the web yesterday, and was stunned to find that there is a new miracle pill to save all of us who struggle with our weight. Now all we have to do is take this pill every day and the weight will just go away. No exercise required. No need to change our diet. All we need to do is take these pills and watch the pounds disappear...

Seriously people - haven’t we been down this road before? There are no miracle pills; it is not possible to have a permanent and significant weight loss without exercise and reduction in calorie intake. It really is that simple and, unfortunately, that difficult. I wish that this pill were around - but it isn’t.

When I was a kid, I would watch those science fiction shows on TV, imagining that they had cured “fat” by then. I figured that if they could handle warp speed and beam people up, they could do away with excess body fat. At least for women, that is - you still had those occasional Harry Mudd characters that would pop up every now and then. I guess that was to keep it real.

Maybe there will be a sci-fi future for us someday. Scientists are making breakthroughs every day. I expect that they will find many ways to help us in the future. As for now... I’m going to continue doing what I know I need to do. Making the choices I need to make. Living the life I want to live. Does the green coffee bean help you lose weight? I don’t know. It would be cool if it did.  For now, that is a question yet to be answered. What I do know is ... there are no magic miracle pills.

GET OUT!

Last time, I was talking about loss: the loss of a friend, the loss of a fingernail, the loss of a pound. At the time, it struck me as funny - the fact that you don’t really lose something you don’t go looking for, do you? I mean, when I lose my fingernail, I don’t go looking for it, so if I find it, I can glue it back on. That hardly ever works.

I suppose there are things we lose that we do look for, like money, car keys, the kids...stuff like that. But as for most of that other stuff, if it’s gone...there is probably a reason.    

But...the real issue here is weight, isn’t it?

People say I lost 2 lbs. this week or I lost 5lbs. on that diet - all that implies is the pounds aren’t really gone, they have just relocated and that scares me. That is like that weird episode of Doctor Who when the Adipose babies where made entirely of human body fat, gross. Although it was a very quick weight loss....if you survived. (Sorry, I digressed again.)

Anyway, we say we lost it as if we had it in our hand with our car keys, put them down somewhere, and now we just can’t remember where we put it. If it were that simple, I would have “lost” a lot of things a long time ago. Also, every time I’ve lost my keys somebody found them. And with my luck, my fat would be too dumb to run away. No - it would stay right there so I could find it and take it home. It’s not lost! It did not wander away from the rest of us when no one was watching. And it did not take a wrong turn at Albuquerque! It is not lost. It is gone.

I don’t mean to sound exasperated, but I don’t want to lose pounds - I want them to get lost. I want them to drop off the face of the earth, to succumb to the forces of nature, kick the bucket, cease to exist, shrivel up and die.  It’s simple, really. I want my fat to leave me and wither away, dissolve, disintegrate, implode. However you look at it, I don’t want there to be any chance of it rearing its ugly little head again around me, or anyone else for that matter. I think that’s clear enough, don’t you? Now the trick is getting my fat cells to somehow understand.

Where’s Doctor Who when you need him?

Levels of Loss

I lost six pounds this week. Well, really it wasn’t just this week - I guess you would say it was over the past three weeks. That’s what - about two pounds a week? Not bad. I’ll take that. If I can keep that up (for a long time) I’ll be happy. The trick is figuring out what I did over the last three weeks that caused the loss and repeating it.  I’m guessing it’s not the 1000 calorie lunch at Five Guys Burgers. (Darn!) Still, six pounds is definitely a happy loss.

I lost a fingernail this week. Don’t worry - it didn’t hurt that much. I wear acrylic nails. The woman who does my nails is a brilliant and talented lady. She has made my hands into works of art for the past six or seven years. She knows me well enough to know that I’m a putz who will, without a doubt, break a nail at least once a month and not even realize it until someone points it out to me. Which is just what happened. It was a small and unexpected loss.

Most importantly, I lost a friend this week. It sounds kinda funny when you say it like that, doesn’t it?  Like, “Where’s Anita? She was here a minute ago . . . it was your turn to watch her.”  Not that, but in the, “She beat me to heaven.” way. I’ll miss her. She was a cool lady, with lots of spunk. She always smiled, always hugged, and seemed to enjoy every day as it came. She was the kind of person that made you feel good just being around. She will be missed. A loss that is both happy and sad.

I guess that as I go through life, I will have many more “Losses” to deal with - and that’s okay. It is what it is. I need to remember my friend Anita, and smile at the problem until it gets confused and leaves you alone because it thinks you’re crazy.  :-)

I’m trying. Really I am.

I have never been a fan of breakfast food. As a kid I would try to convince my mother that a hamburger contained the same nutritional value found in a bowl of cereal and a glass of juice. I don’t think she bought it. Mom was a pretty  smart cookie.  Over the years I've struggled with the idea of the morning meal, but the thought of food so early is just difficult. I have found a couple of yogurt flavors I like, but seriously, folks....do they really expect me to eat this every day for the rest of my life? I might just go mad! I mean, come on, man! There has to be more to life than yogurt!..
Okay... Sorry... I’m better now. I know, I know, There are other things. I just need to look for them, and I have found a few.  When I feel like making a mess, I make a bowl of grits with a sunny side-up egg. Now that’s good eatin' for sure and its only about 250 calories, so that’s not bad either, but....you gotta like grits and, for some odd reason that I don’t quite understand, not everybody likes grits. I can’t quite wrap my brain around that one just yet. I have also tried different boxed cereals in the past, always hoping (there’s that hope thing again) that I will find that one that is just right. You know, the perfect cereal. It should be good for you but not taste like cardboard. It should be able to sit in the milk long enough to eat all of it without it getting soggy and gross. And, most importantly, it should not turn the milk a funny color. Also a cool prize would be a bonus. (I’m just saying.)                         
               
I tried a different cereal today. This one could have sat in the milk until lunch and would have still been crispy. That might be a bit over crunchy, even for me, if you know what I mean.

I know that I need to eat something every morning. After all, “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” (By the way, that’s not true. We’ll discuss that at a later time) So until someone comes up with breakfast sushi, it looks like I’m stuck with my yogurt and the occasional grit party.
         

Yee Haw!

SLEEP?   SLEEP.   SLEEP!

                    Hamlet:
                    "To sleep, perchance to dream-
                    ay, there's the rub."

                    Hamlet (III, i, 65-68

Do you remember when you were in a little younger, oh say a few years ago, when you would have the chance to sleep in late there and was nothing that could get you out of that wonderful bed until noon, if then? Well those days are gone my friend, they are gone.

As we all know, sleep is an essential part of our lives, right? Yes, of course, but how much, when, where or even how has always been up for debate. I once met a guy in Cincinnati that swore he only sleep once or twice a week for a few hours at a time. He said the feeling help inspire his painting. (uh-okay) That was over twenty years ago and I've never hear of him since so I guess it didn't work so well for him.

There are several studies that tell me the best position to sleep in or how to get the best sleep. I can buy books on techniques to clear my mind so that my rest can be even more productive. I can even find books that will interpret my dreams, (let's not go there......yet) but nothing is going to change the fact that my body is going to take over and wake me up when it darn well wants to.

It's really a race between the cats and my bladder as to who get me up first in my house. I would have to say that bladder is in the lead by at least a 4 to 1 margin. Sometimes she come to me in a dream. In a stage way I find this kind of endearing. I'm usually lost or trapped in some fantastical, weird piece of architecture and am trying to find a bathroom, of-course. When the kitten wants me up it starts with the stare, followed by the paw, then the meow. Not the Cat. When she want me up it's all 20lbs in my face, purring and licking. She's not known for her subtlety. Sometime the cats and bladder team up. In my opinion, this is so unfair, that's three against one.

I guess I should look at the bright side of this. I have two cats that need me. My sub-conscience seems to be processing information fairly well. Oh yea, and I've proven that I can read.

I know that getting older is a process of changes and that change is inevitable. I don't mind change. I just think it should not always have to be so darned inconvenient!

Parting words of advice ladies:  Practice your Kegel Exercises!!!

Exercise  

A.K.A "You don't sweat much for a fat girl"

So,  I’m going to be perfectly honest with you. I hate to exercise. I know, I know that comes as such a great shock to you, doesn’t it? But it’s true. I really do hate to exercise. I don’t exactly know why. Maybe it’s that sweaty thing?...but I don’t think so.  I don’t even think it’s the, “OMG! Look at that huge woman on that bike!” thing. Although that is a big one. I haven’t ridden a bike in years and I use to enjoy that a lot. No,  I honestly think the thing that detracts me the most are my feet. My feet always hurt. I need to find some way to fix the problems with me feet and legs.

Now if I had a pool, my feet wouldn’t be an issue. But I don’t so that blows that idea. Oh, I know there are pools all over the place I could use, yada, yada, woof, woof. True but then your getting into hassle and expense and bothers and time and effort and..... you get the picture.....anyway, no pool.

I come from a family of feet issues. Some were big and flat, some were wide and long. I was blessed with the high instep, big, and wide ones. Just what every girls wants. For the past few years I’ve been on some medication that causes swelling in my feet. It had become a major issue for me so we’ve been adjusting the medication to help the swelling. Hopefully that will help. Will it make me like exercise. Uh, Nooo!. I think not. Have I said how much I dislike exercise? I think it’s the word that puts a bad taste in my mouth.

I need something fun to do that will not cost money, make me drive all over the place, I don’t have to dress up for, and I can do when ever I want to. That give me lots of options around the house. Okay, I can walk the dog. That is when she will go further than the end of the yard, because she doesn’t want to walk on the hot street. Can’t blame her there. I have a treadmill in my room but the sound off it freaks the cats out and it does get boring very quickly. Nope. I’m going for the Wii.

At first it’s rather humiliating when my little mini me come strolling out and the machine tells me to get up on the board. So like a dummy I do and BAM! My little mini me is all round and fat. Well duh! What did It think was going to happen. Like I wouldn’t know me? What ever!

But I like the Wii programs. I like the marching band and the flying chicken but I can not get the hula-hoops down to save my life. I think I would like to get a hold of some of those dance programs they make for the Wii like the Zumba or Just Dance. I’m going to have to look into that.

Yikes! Part 2

“If you want different results, do something different.”  

      

So why do most of us ignore common sense and keep trying to make past failures into successes?
This was the question I ask yesterday that started me down this path and into this discussion and now I’ve dragged you along for the ride.

I believe an another reason why we humans do this is because we have the ability to Hope. Again, something I think only humans are capable of. ( I could be wrong, my dog has very hopeful eyes when it’s dinner time) We hope that this time we can change that one factor and get it right this time. Or that this time there is a, "I won’t get sidetracked by the Christmas party" or a  "I hope this new plan has more fast food options I like than the last one did" in place. Yes, both are personal experience.  But it comes down to the fact that hope is a powerful emotion. It can cause miracles, move mountains, heal sick, there is no end to the power of hope, IF, and I emphasize IF,  you believe in hope. Ahh...there’s the catch, you have to believe. And with that beliefs comes understanding. A deep understanding of where that hope really comes from and where you fit into the picture. That can leave you kind of stunned.
 
Which leads me to my last point, FEAR.  Change can be scary.  Most people don’t like to be scared. Yes, some of us enjoy a scary movie or a hunted house but I’m not talking about that. I’m taking about real life scary. "Phone calls in the middle of the night scared.", “They were right here a minute ago!”, scared. Those are the scared’s I’m talking about. None of us like that. We do the best we can to avoid things like that in our lives.  That fear has translated it’s way into our (MY) relationship with food and made me overly cautious, reluctant to change. I am not a newbie to the diet scene. I know how something like this works, therefor I know what kind of reaction I can expect, so I will not be surprised. No surprises- no fear. No fear- life is good.......... Wait-life's not good- I’m still fat-  I need to change –Argggg....................You can see my dilemma. I’m caught in this vicious circle.  Thus this brings me back to my original statement.
                                           
“If you want different results, do something different.”

It is only through change that we see growth. It is the belief in the ones power to change that allows them to not be afraid to change.  So do I regret eating all those calories on my anniversary. No, not really.  Next time, I will make different choices and I will not regret those either.

Yikes! Part 1

If you let regret get a hold it will never let go. I know that, you know that, everybody knows that, rights? So why do I feel so guilty about eating WAY TOO MANY calories yesterday? I was celebrating. I should not be beating myself up over this. I splurged, true, but it’s not like I do that every day. No, only on special occasions like anniversaries, birthdays, and weddings.... and pot lucks at church... and date nights..... and-oh, you get the idea.

Thus My Problem. I’ve am predictable, complacent, stubborn. It’s at times like this that I have to stop and step out of the “Old Me” that I’ve become so comfortable with and, with a lot of kicking and screaming, push the “New Me” out. Come on man, how many times does someone have to say, “If you want different results, do something different?” before it sinks in. It shouldn’t be that hard of a concept to grasp really. Should it? After all, it’s common sense. So why do most of us ignore common sense and keep trying to make past failures into successes?

Okay, this is where this gets tricky. One reason is because man is the only animal that believes in luck. Seriously, have you every seen a rabbit with a lucky human foot or a black cat worry about crossing it’s own path? I thought not. No, we humans, believe that we have this thing called luck and that this time, if we do everything just right, and pee before weight-ins all will be well with the world and the pound will melt away. Part of that is correct, life is a gamble. You gamble every time you get behind the wheel of your car. The point is the gamble or the luck the point is the bet. What are you willing to bet? A bet will cost you something and the more you bet the more you win........... or lose.  One way or the other you won’t win if you don’t bet. You won’t lose either, you’ll just sit there...right were you are.... unchanged.....stagnant.......

read more tomorrow............                   

It was Twenty Years Ago Today

If the first thing that popped into your head was- Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play, then you’re my kind of people, but that’s not the answer we’re looking for. No, in fact, it was twenty years ago today that my husband and I got married in a picturesque wedding chapel nestled deep in the Ozarks hill of Arkansas. A more lovely spot could not be found in all of God’s green earth. We chose Arkansas for a couple a reasons. First was proximity for my family. Most of my family was living in and around the Arkansas/Oklahoma area. My dad was in bad health at the time and our concern was to make things as easy as we could. The next reason was for the convenience.  Arkansas and Nevada are (were- after all that was 20 years ago) the only two states where there was no waiting period to get a marriage license. I know, weird, right? That’s what I thought twenty years ago.  Our first idea was to go to do the whole Vegas Elvis thing but we tabled that. (Maybe someday) I even thought of finding a Native American Tribe somewhere and getting all dressed up in the feathers and stuff.....Yeah, I know, but at the time it sounded fun. Rational minds prevailed....eventually.

We went to the courthouse the day before to get our license where the clerk had to ask us a few questions to fill out the paperwork. She ask for legal names and birth dates, all that normal stuff, then she ask about occupation. Without even skipping a beat, my husband pipes up, “Musician!” She look at me and I said, “Artist!” She stared for a moment, lowered her head and mumbled something about this never lasting and handed us our paperwork. We just laughed it off. I’m sure they thought we were just an other couple of crazy people that couldn’t find the way to Vegas. It was the 90's. My husbands hair was down to his elbows and mine was permed so big I’d have given Rosana Rosanadana a run for her money. What did we care? Neither one of us were kids, both over 30, old enough to know better. We packed up the truck, and head off to get hitched. Best decision I’ve ever made.  I can’t believe it’s been twenty years. That’s like a life time. It’s like a day.  So many memories, so many laughs, so many tears, heart aches, pains, joys ...I would not trade a one of them. To my husband - 143.

Feed Me!

When did that happen?
                                   
It wasn’t that long ago that I can remember when the morning routine was a simple one. I usually woke to the sounds of anxious meows wanting breakfast. That was followed by a quick shower, throwing on something clean and heading out the door. Most of the time I skipped breakfast, I could usually find “something” when I got to work.           
                                               
But now, all that’s changed and I can’t for the life of me figure out when this happened. I just woke up one day and realized everything is different now. Okay, not everything, I still wake up and go to work, but it’s a much slower and more painful process than it use to be. Now I wake to the sounds of air pumps and creaking bones.  The quick showers have slowed tremendously so as to insure complete coverage and stability. (We want no mishaps on those slippery surfaces.) My closet is full of stuff, but I can never find anything to wear. I’ve had this body my whole life. Why do I keep buying clothes that make it look dumpy? I eventually prevail. After all, the clothes don’t make the man. I never skip breakfast anymore. Most of the time it’s a very simple one: banana, yogurt, orange juice, yada, yada, yada.... because if I don’t eat something before I take my morning pills, I will never make it through the morning.  You see! There you go. Morning pills. That implies evening pills. Which in turn implies, “OMG Nelly! When did you get so old?”


Mom had this blue plastic tub that she kept all her pills in. It was a little bigger than a shoe box but it was stuffed with ever thing all her doctors had prescribed for her. Once a week she took out her little tub and fill up her Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, Bedtime Pill Case. So many pills, so many times, how did she remember it all.  My mom was smart, a genius. She wrote it down and carried a copy with her so when she was at a doctors office she would know what she was taking.

Mom's gone now and I don't have a little blue box but I feel like I'm getting there. Do you ever just stop and wonder how you got where you are?  I just honestly don't remember getting older. I mean the 60's were good but the 70's sucked.

Summer Camp

Two words that bring back fond childhood memories of fun days of outdoor adventure and campfire stories.  Those were the days, weren’t they? We sleep in bunk beds, always fighting over who got the top bunk. Made arts and crafts projects out of pipe cleaners, puff balls and glitter. My favorite, of course,  was the talent show on the last night. 

My 16 year old left today for camp. It’s a church camp and this is only his second year.  I made him go last year because I felt he need some kind of camp experience. (Yes! Obviously, I have failed in that department as a mother. I have not prepared him for the great outdoors. But, no worries, I’ve left him my copy of The Zombie Survival Guide in my will.)  This year I left the decision totally up to him. He was quite positive that he was NOT going until last week, when for some reason unknown to me, he changed his mind. Well, I not wanting to stand in the way of progress, agreed and promptly started to help him prepare. He, naturally, shooed me from his room and closed his door. Oh, the love.

Camp is one of those part of a kids life that they will be able to look back at and smile. With memories of laughter, friends, games, stories and maybe even life lesson or two.

Granted, it was at least 35 years ago that I last went to camp, but I still have vivid memories of it.  There was this time when our youth pastor got lost while we were hiking and we thought we were going to have to carry him back. That was before cell phones, you know. Half of us ended up with poison ivy. There were a lot of funny things also.  I can still see the look on that stuck-up boys face when he found out I had been his secret pen-pal all week. Or the time we took all the counselors underwear and soaked it in cool-aid.

Hmmmmm..................

Maybe I’ve prepared him just fine.   I think he can hold his own.

I hate being sick. Well, that’s a stupid thing to say. Nobody in there right mind likes being sick. I mean I just hate always being sick. It just seams that I no sooner get over one thing and the next thing pops up. I sometimes wonder if our ancestors had to deal with all this or if this is all a product of our modern society. We have become so dependent on our artificial sweeteners and vitamin boosters that we don’t even know what we are eating any more!............Yikes! I did it again. Sorry..... I get a little Soylent Green every now and then. I’m okay now. It’s just that the summer is a heck of a time to be sick. The last thing I want to do on a summer day is drink chicken broth and eat crackers. I suppose, I should look at the silver lining. I’m sure I must have lost a pound or two. Not only did I not want anything to eat, I could not even stand the sight of food. The food on the TV was disgusting to look at and what ever my husband was cooking did not smell eatable. Woohoo, small favors.

Photographs are powerful things. There are those images that make me angry at my world. They make me want to do something, take a stand, vote. So I do. Then there are those that make me laugh so hard I almost....well... you know. Those will end up being posted on my Facebook page. Some photos can move you to tears. Maybe because of the beauty they possess or maybe because of a memory they hold. However you look at it, what we see affects us-good, bad or indifferent. I guess that's why I'm usually the one taking the pictures.  

Like most of us, I don't always like what I see when someone takes my picture. That's not me! Really? It must have been a bad day.  What ever the excuse may be none us want to look at ourselves though the sometimes harsh reality of a simple photograph. Why? What am I afraid of? Will I find some flaw that no one else has seen? What does that picture really represent anyway? Is it me? Is it my heart, my soul, my mind? No. It is nothing more that a mere shadow of a moment that no longer exists. That moment is gone. That is what the world sees when they glance over at me as they walk by. Hmmmm. Is there any wonder they go by without stopping? That reflection, that shadow is not who I am. It can not stand up and tell you a story, or laugh at your jokes, or comfort your tears. You need me for that. That "me" in that picture is not the "me" that writes this now.  

Pictures? Bring them on. I rejoice in them. Let the shadow fall where it will do the most good.

When my doctor challenged me to get serious and start keeping up with my journaling I new he was right. I needed to do something or I was going to find myself falling back into the same old mindless routine that I always had. I'm sure most of you are no different. The older we get the less hassle we want our life to be.

So I did, I sat down at my computer, and kept a record of every thought that crossed my mind for three weeks. I printed it off (all 70 some odd pages) and gave them to him on my last visit. He was pleased and I found that I was also pleased. Not just at the three pound weight loss, but also at the fact that I had accomplished that goal. Strangely enough, I found the experience cathartic.  Enough so, that when he suggested I start a blog, a thought that had never crossed my mind until then, I gave it some serious thought.  So now you know. You ready? ...................So, here it goes.

My original plan was to become diligent with my food  tracking and journaling, two things I find very difficult. Partly, I suppose, because of my life long issues with writing but I think it goes deeper than that.  I believe that deep down I am inherently unmotivated.  I have always seemed to be quite content to sit, drink and flag in hand, at the curb and watch as the rest of the world moved along the parade route of life. I love the feel of the bass drum as the marching band files by and I always wave at the homecoming queen atop her 1966 Mustang convertible (although I could easily do without the clowns). The floats and twirlers, the horses and veterans, they all wander past me without the need to stop and take notice. Occasionally, I’ll make eye contact, exchange a glance, a nod, a tip of the hat.  Most of the time, I feel as if I am simply an observer. But I’m strangely okay with that. Like I said, I don’t feel overly ambitious.

Now don’t misunderstand me. I am not trying to say that I am a lazy sack of crap,  it’s just that  I have known myself for a number of years now and I do tend to lean towards the easy road. That whole road less traveled thing is kinda scary (even more than clowns). I want to make that change and take a step away from the comfort of the safety here at the curb. It’s not that I think the parade is over for me or even that I see the end of it,  but I do know that I’ve missed a whole lot of really good stuff that I will never get a chance at again. I think I might still find a band to march with and maybe there’s a classic car for me out there. I need to do this,...
for me.