What a whirlwind weekend for me! I feel like I accomplished so much yet also did a lot of extracurricular stuff as well.
Friday night my daughter and I planned planted three trees. I live in a forest and here I am planting trees! I was told by hubby all three must be moved due to placement conflicting with septic, ground tubes, etc. Ugh.
On Saturday, my daughter and I put in my entire vegetable garden. Everything is from seeds except for the eggplant. My mother found this hysterical and said, "Oh my gosh, nothing will grow from seeds!" Oh well. After pulling out all the rocks, turning the soil, pulling out all the roots, fertilizing, turning and all the rest of it, she's lucky the seeds are in neat labeled rows and not just scattered all over! Then I went searching for a weedwacker, but couldn't find any to suit my needs so came home with gigantic clippers. Husband was like, "Where's the weedwhacker?" I pulled out the clippers and he laughed, but is glad I do all the yard work.
Saturday night, my son's best friend stayed over. We had a huge bonfire and made Smores. Then my husband shot off a ton of fireworks. It's hard to believe we're from the north because that last sentence made us sound like bonafied hillbillies. The kids laid on the trampoline and watched them go off ... roman candles, whirly twirlies, stuff like that. It was pretty cool.
On Sunday, we went fishing on the great Sacandaga River. What a beautiful spot. The edges of it are completely covered with rocks and boulders. I fly fished for the first time and time to toot my horn ... I was a natural at it. I felt like I was in a scene from "A River Runs Through It." It was so peaceful with the sun hitting off the running river and sound it makes against the rocks. I didn't even care that I only got one nibble.
I made a huge cooler of sandwiches, salads, and anything else that would fit. We ate in the car (I served plates through the window) after the rain hit and then headed home. I actually napped with my husband. The kids did also. I haven't done that in like ... well, I can't remember if I've ever done that. =)
All in all it was a pretty good Memorial Day weekend. Productive yet playful. I'm really looking forward to Maine now.
I think attention is what you seek so I will give it to you!
I gave this address out to 5 people. The last was Dawn who has not commented yet, but since then, there's been you. Yee haw!
How thrilling to have an unknown person make cryptic remarks on my public blog! How wonderful to not know who you are or if you go back and share your findings with a nice, big group! How amazing to have a new mystery in my life!
I'm such a private person that I made a public blog anyone could read. No, that's not right. Err ... umm ... well, this one's for you and yours. I hope while reading you ask yourself just one thing:
Why do I care so much what this woman is writing ... especially when I don't even know her? Come on, you can do it ... just ask. Although you may not like the answer you find. =)
Excluding a long forgotten fishing trip where my son cast his entire pole into a pond when he was 5, yesterday his father took him fishing for the first time. They were both so excited! My son caught a 15" trout on the first cast and begrudgling learned to take it off the hook plus "gut" it later.
It boggles me how he can poke sticks into the eyes of dead birds, but feels horrified by taking a fish hook out out of one belonging to a fish. He could slice and dice frogs, but did a "hoochie coochie" dance when beheading the fish.
My husband talked about his son's abilities all night long ... even after getting into bed. He did the man thing where instead of being able to know how to fish now it's "if he was lost in the wilderness with just a pole and a knife, HE could survive!" John ... he believes firmly in the possibility of being lost and needing to survive in the outback. Perhaps if he doesn't quicken the pace with home renovations, I'll knock him out, drop him off somewhere in the Adirondacks, and give him his secret wish.
As for me, yesterday I made my cut-off time of 8pm, but only had 6 waters. This new medication is doing quite a number on me. Not a good number either. I feel like deflated drive inflated balloonhead woman, if there is such a person.
And lastly, happy Memorial Day! Remember to thank a vet.
Today while driving to the Italian Bistro to pick up my roast beef on a fresh baked Italian roll, I realized certain new habits must stop and certain old habits must join them. I never usually pick up any kind of lunch and/or breakfast for myself, but for the last two days, I've done this very thing during errands.
Since it isn't a habit I've had since childhood, no problemo, changing it should be a snap, but the other habits ... like gnoshing during TV time, the ones started before I was even 6, these are the most destructive and hardest to stop. Even if I commit to certain limits, I still err on the side of weight gain.
If my cut-off time is 8pm, I'll think 8:30 is just fine ... even if I'm not hungry. Granted, I only have a little of something, but why? Why when I'm not even hungry or upset? Am I bored? I don't think so. I'm watching a good TV show, knitting as well ... giving my hands something to do.
Am I stressed? Yeah. Probably. Everything is house-related, but does eating the food REALLY help move things along? Nope.
What about the corner ice cream store? I must hit that place almost every day. Sure, it's not for ice cream, but a dog here, Slush Puppy there, milkshake ... you get the point. It's a new habit "just because," but WHY? They have fat free, sugar free ice cream there ... 35 calories for the whole thing and I openly wince at the advertisement for it.
I decided to make a list of my destructive habits. To call me out. To take the power out of them and bring them into the light. The things we hide are the things that end up controlling us, right? I believe it. So, here's the list along with frequency.
1.) Eating quick non-nutritional breakfast i.e. Pop-Tarts (2-3x a week) 2.) Skipping breakfast all together than having coffee at 11pm (2-3x a week) 3.) Eating snack cakes i.e. Ring Dings for lunch (4-5x a week) 4.) Frequenting Lickety Split (6-7x a week) 5.) Drinking only 2-3 glasses of water (about 6 servings) instead of what my body requires (every day) 6.) "Grazing" i.e. picking when not even hungry (daily) 7.) When eating fast food, eating nothing of any nutritional value (every time ... about once a week) 8.) Ignoring vegetables (almost daily) 9.) Ignoring fiber (again, almost daily) 10.) Gnoshing while watching television (daily) 11.) Ignoring "satisfied" feeling and eating too much at one sitting for my needs (every single dinner time)
So, non-existent metabolism or not, these are some very bad habits. They're convenience habits and also not. I mean, I'll drive up to the end of the road to grab a Slush Puppy (blue sugar water), yet I won't reach into the crisper drawer to make myself a salad for lunch.
I am still doing baby steps, but these are the things I want to change. Sure, there's a lot more that's not food-oriented, but these are the ones I need to find substitutes for and add in gradually.
Right now I don't even have drinking 10 servings of water and not eating after 8pm down. Part of that is because of all the rain and cold weather here. I don't want cold water. I want coffee ... steaming hot. Still, I need to make a commitment date to start ... not just to report, but to say, "Yes, I will do this!" After all, I used to drink 14 a day in the dead of winter when I was running competitively.
I am picking tomorrow, Friday the 26th to start these two things and to make it go right. No excuses. Then I'll add in the list. Little by little ... I can live a better, healthier life wide awake instead of comfortably numb.
After a couple months of medical tests, including a score of blood vials, yesterday I went to the doc's for the news. Strangely enough, we didn't even discuss the ultrasound or her incorrect diagnosis of my having Tito the Tumor (fibroid tumor in uterus).
The good news? I have the cholesterol of a small child BEFORE they have been given fattening food. My doctor said she has never seen a score this low and didn't believe it until she looked at past cholesterol tests. On the test she was wowed about my score of 21. She said 100 would be fantastic, but 21 is non-existent and now believes I have some type of mutant blood. I was told if those numbers stayed the same or even slightly worsened, I would never have a heart attack.
This just gave me further proof ... fast food and chocolate are NOT the enemy.
The bad news? Ugh, the bad news. Let's see:
- Seratonin levels are non-existent. I am depressed on paper and low seratonin levels in women cause (drum roll) weight gain! They also cause disturbed sleep patterns (I haven't slept through the night ever) and a host of other bad things.
- Metabolism is non-existent. The doc basically just sat there, looked at me, and said, "You don't have a metabolism. You don't have any cholesterol either." (she couldn't get off the cholesterol thing)
So, she asked me about sleeping patterns, which I found rather humorous because the only pattern I've ever had with sleep is that I don't get any. She asked me about my childhood and I professed not getting sleep then either. I also told her about insane sister who tortured me along with brothers to which she sat cow-eyed, put down pen, chart, and wanted me to tell her the stories. She was fascinated by my "torture" (her word for it) and said once again, "I've never heard anything like it. That's sick."
I guess I'm just full of surprises, Doc.
Finally, after purging my soul of insane sibling rivalry, she tells me I need Prozac. (the seratonin levels need to be balanced and kept balanced) She tells me the Prozac alone could help me on so many levels ... establishing sleep patterns, feeling the will to actually do anything instead and stick with it instead of just doing it in automaton fashion, and lastly, with weight loss. She feels key factors could be either brought into play or shut down, which have caused my metabolism to go on a permanent vacation just with Prozac alone.
She also gives me a prescription for Ambien. Oh lovely Ambien. I heart you. The only medication in the world, which gave me a full 4-5 hours of sleep ... straight through, without waking up. Heavenly bliss. If Ambien came in candy bar form, I'd be a junkie.
Now the mission is simple: Find Metabolism. Accomplices in mission: Prozac and Ambien. Since my Nazi insurance company makes me use their pharmacies, I have to send out prescription, but within a couple weeks, I shall have my seratonin and sleep back. Fingers crossed. Pillows fluffed. Belts at the ready.
Lastnight, like millions of others, I went to see the latest and last Star Wars movie. I must say, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I felt the film made up for the last film's major boo boos.
Unfortunately, I had to go with son's best friend's parents. They were self-professed Star Wars fanatics, father saying he couldn't think straight all day due to the excitement, mother saying about the same thing. So, after all that grandstanding, they made us about 45 minutes late, which I decided to brush off. Until, on top of that, they talked ALL the way through the film. Ugh. I just sat there crunching on my finger nails while the mother made everyone in the row get up twice so she could get hot dogs, nachos, drinks, candy ... basically everything they had to offer. Double ugh.
Finally, the movie was done and we could head home, but I learned some key things:
- Other parents feel my son is "odd" for being paranoid of the world, wanting to be around parents, not wanting to be around them when they're drunk, and not wanting to venture away from home without his cellphone.
- I will have the life blood sucked out of me if I keep putting myself up as an offering to them just for their son to be able to visit.
- I am tired.
To make matters worse, today it's raining so I can't finish my "stump project." The stump can be seen here:
I already started my project by planting flowers the base, surrounding it with large rocks, and filling it all in with tiny rocks. I intend on having hubby cut it in half, taking a pick axe to hollow out the middle (just a bit), and putting more plantings inside.
Rock wall is almost complete. (See avatar for better shot)
I have less than what the picture shows what I have to do. I think the entire thing was 30' long. It was a lot of work, but I am loving the results of all my projects.
Now if I could only:
- not let ex-contractor make me feel like I'm lazy - get on a healthy road - live in Maine
Someday. May the force be with me!
Stats yesterday: - Drank 2 servings of water. =( - Ate at movies around 8pm. =( - Did about 4 hours of work outside. =) - Stayed up until 1:30pm washing linens of son's that my dog had ruined.
Not much new to report. So close to being done with rock wall that have decided to make it part of a walkway and ANOTHER shorter rock wall. John thinks I'm nuts, but likes the idea of doing an Asian-theme back there.
Of course am seeing the last Star Wars movie this weekend. John is away on business so will see it with him and "T" this Sunday. Don't have to go with Grant's parents as they haven't called. Woohoo!
Working on yard again today and cleaning, as usual. "T" is home sick so will also be caring for him. That's about it.
Yesterday: 8 servings of water Last meal - 8:45pm (Peppermint Patty) Didn't make goals ... =(
I believe I have finally realized why I keep screwing up in weight loss attempts ... militant routines! I am no longer that twenty-something year old who had the inclination to live a disciplined, structured, power packed life. I'll be 35 this year. I have found peace and calmness in my life, yet anytime I begin a new program, I put all these rules and regulations in it.
Don't get me wrong, I believe to achieve a real state of fitness and health, one needs to be disciplined, but I can't shoot right out of the gate with a daily "to do" list for health.
It took me decades to learn these bad habits and I expect to change them after a couple of weeks? That's just not doable. That's a sure way to backslide, binge, and fail.
My goal IS to lose weight, but how I get there needs to be a much more gradual, learning process. I need to start with JUST two things and then move on when they are habit, not just because it's a new week. It doesn't mean I can't exercise, do heavy yardwork, whatever, but it means I am not committing to a laundry list of things I will feel admittedly overpowered by.
My weight loss is important. Important enough to stop tripping over the same barriers, which I create for myself. So, starting on this day I will two things I know I can do. Two things, which need to be habit and not forced.
Number one: Drinking 10 servings of water daily. I now drink 6 on the average without much trouble at all. When I am dehydrated, my fingers are puffy, I get headaches, and I just don't "feel" good.
Number two: Not eating after 8pm. I want in the future to stop any eating after 7pm, but again, this became a huge stumbling block for me. It felt like "too much, too soon." I know eating at night gives me indigestion, makes what little sleep I get much worse, and makes me ravenous the next morning. I KNOW these things and this is what I will think of when 8pm hits.
So, each day at the bottom of whatever entry I post, I will also be doing an update on these two goals. When I feel I have one or both down, I will start adapting a new one. I am not putting a set goal of exercise on now, but if I do achieve any, I will also be putting that on the bottom of all posts.
I started planning my Maine vacation. I changed my mind completely. I started looking at cities near the river because hubby wants to fly fish with me. I've always wanted to learn, but now he jumped on my bandwagon, or fishwagon as the case may be.
So I decided to screw the hotel (not literally because well... ouch!) and go camping instead! We'll camp 4 days, stay in a hotel an additional 3 nights. This way the children and I plus their father will have a good balance. We'll get to clean up, enjoy a quaint city for a little while.
I looked at a couple of farms online, which were turned into B&Bs. Very beautiful. I didn't look too long because it actually makes me weepy. I want to live there so badly and seeing farms there, well, that's my dream. So close to the ocean, yet all those acres right there in Maine. I'd leave tomorrow if I could even just be willed a fixer upper there. The kids would have to get by without me. Haha!
The great thing about camping is being cut-off from the world. We used to go every year, but took the last couple off. I have all these new camping recipes to try and my husband can't wait! My son loves it, but evil daughter is now the type who likes hotels. She doesn't like to sleep "in the woods." Too many scary movies, I think. I told her to sleep with her black hair over her face like "The Ring." No one will bother her then!
Just to give a heads up to anyone reading who cares, I'll be gone from July 3rd to the 11th. I'm hoping to end the vacation in a laundromat in Maine so I can finish all laundry/cleaning before I get home. I usually do this on vacation. Actually, I'm hoping to end vacation on one of Maine's large rock cliffs staring out at ocean. We shall see.
I've had the urge to wash every blanket in this house so I've been doing it all morning. Not exciting news, really. Tide with Bleach ... concentrated Downy. Wash, spin, rinse, spin ... hang outside.
In between I'm doing this week's bills. Blech.
I've felt very tired the last 3 days and am still rundown. Weird thing is I've been sleeping better at night. Is this what the phrase "no rest for the wicked" means? =)
Oh well, time to go get another load out and start a new one.
Two days ago while watering the lawn and taking my time about it (to make sure of good saturation), I sat there thinking how long it's been since I had a real best friend. I wasn't all sad about it. I was in a musing state. My heart pinched a little bit. (it's small and black, that's the best it can do)
I thought about having good friends in the past ... ones I doted upon and had this great urge to be around. If I get that urge now, I just go to Home Depot. Home Depot is not a good friend. For one, I feel like a weirdo for gawking and if I want to feel better, they make me pay for it.
My son's latest friend has a mom that I feel completely interested in on a friendship level. My bloated ego thinks she could be mine for the taking. Seriously, she's the only woman I've met in ... oh, say 9 years I've had this feeling about ... the "I could be friends with you" feeling.
So, basically, I'm going to put myself out there more. It's hard, but when I do it, I feel better. Even if it's just helping Grant's mom with the baby or just telling jokes at different parent events at the school. I've been holding myself back because I've felt I could get hurt, I could be judged, I could fail.
I also have the feeling like I could befriend this woman and become so obsessed I forget the rest of my life. Hey, it could happen. I do that kind of thing from time to time. At least once a decade. =)
I'm going to do it though. Be more social. Go out more and not just outside. Stay off the phone, stay off the pc (not really major problem), and become uber-friendly mom. Heck, I may ditch my phone and just keep the cellular for the kids and I. I don't really use the phone unless Amy, Deb, or my mother calls, but they could be planned for once in a while or something. I'm already switching my pc from expensive super speed cable to moderate-priced high speed.
Exhaling now. Once it's out there, I just commit to it better. It becomes real somehow. I can do this!
With the help of Amy teaming up with me, I've been on a healthier path all week. I stopped dehydrating myself and started drinking water. I've been pushing myself outdoors. I've been not gnoshing at night.
This weekend I kind of had a setback though. Ate too much. Drank too little, but it was only for one day so I'm moving past it.
Since I have a problem losing my goals (right, Amy?), I thought I'd put them here. These will be my health and personal goals for the week. Also, I haven't weighed in yet so must do this when the rest of the house wakes up and it isn't so dark in here. Haha! If anyone else has any out there they'd like to post or think about committing to, be my guest.
Nutrition: - Count calories. Keep below 1,800. - Drink 10-12 servings of water. - No eating past 7:30pm, but be sure to have some snack after dinner. - No eating chips and/or chips with dip. (last week I had some chips alone)
Exercise: - Weight train all body parts at least once. (split into two sessions ... Monday and Sunday) - Do 2 hours of heavy outdoor work at least 3x. - Run/walk 2x outdoors. (getting into groove again) - Do functional/core/stretching exercises during Buffy on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
Work: - Push husband to finish new bathroom. He is so close, but keeps holding back. - Paint new bathroom. - Finish vegetable garden. - Finish cleaning car. - Begin raking makeshift roadways. - TAKE PICTURES OUTDOORS!!!
My son is extremely upset with me. His friend, Mario, called to ask if my son could spend the night yesterday. Mario and my son have nothing in common.
Mario is gay, likes cheerleading, dance routines, and effeminate gestures.
My son is straight, likes guns, action sequences, and studying bugs.
Mario didn't understand why my son couldn't spend the night and really, there was no reason why he couldn't so I said, "Sure he can." My son packed up without speaking to me. I dropped him off at Mario's and before he got out of the car he turned to me and said, "I'll never forgive you."
Right after Mario came bouncing out of the house, rubbed Taigh's arm, took his duffel bag and was like, "Let me get that for you. Oh, this will be fun." Taigh stayed silent.
My husband said this wasn't fair to our son. He should choose where he wants to go, but I felt bad for Mario. He doesn't have any friends. My son said he would have more friends if he didn't do cheerleading moves while shouting, "Work it, oh yeah," in front of the boys.
I have been told this morning that Mario's parents have banned him from dancing because they don't want him to be gay. I had no idea dancing lead to gayness. I guess it just never occurred to me that this could be a symptom of the "disease".
So, I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't. I don't like bigotry. I feel bad for a little boy who acts so outrageous in school because at home he'll have to be a version of himself that he's not just to keep the peace. I feel bad for my son, but he's still living, unbruised, but slightly cranky.
Oh well, could be worse. Mario could be doing show tunes instead. Even I would have a problem with that. =)
That's the name of the ice cream shop right on the end of my street. Actually, I live on a road, a dead end road to be exact. I always enjoy living on a road that reflects my life. :)
When I first moved to this 7 acre wonderland, I thought it was kind of awesome having an ice cream shop right on the corner. An ice cream shop which also sells the famous NY style dogs, cheese fries, etc., but now I have realized it isn't so great. It's more like curse.
For one, the owner is an old drag queen. Now don't go there with me, I don't care about lifestyle choices. Read further before throwing pointy rainbow colored objects my way. Back to old drag queen. To be honest, I'm not sure if he ever donned sequined pumps and troweled on make up, BUT he's large, effeminate, and (and this is the part that bothers me) in love with my husband. Hubby is so blind to the gay scene, he's oblivious when he's being hit on by gay male. One of hubby's favorite "down time" things to do is walking with me hand-in-hand to Lickety Split with me.
Typical Lickety Split Scene:
Hubby walks up to window.
Owner with new dye job and and black freaky-ass ringlets "oohs" and "ahs" over him.
Hubby keeps looking over ice cream selection, blind to it (it being owner).
Owner to hubby: "What's your name again?"
Hubby unaware: "John."
Owner comes out (yes, actually out of special cinder block hut) to hubby: "I'm Bill." (All wide-eyed and dopey, as if making first date.)
Hubby, while extending hand: "Pleased to meet you, Bill!" (still oblivious)
Bill shakes hand, holds on it, lingers, possibly checking hubby's pulse, then goes back inside.
Husband then orders for us.
Bill does husband's ice cream first (doesn't matter if my order was first), hands it to John, and asks: "Isn't that just the BEST flavor ever?"
Hubby still clueless: "Yeah, I like it."
Bill takes another two minutes just to watch hubby lick ice cream.
Me: Looking at both of them to see if hubby is realizing the lust going on and back at Bill to see if he realizes order is half complete.
Bill: Goes to get mine, then practically throws it out the window at me.
Me: :/ "Mine's pretty great too there, Bill."
Bill: Silence.
Hubby pays, turns to leave.
Bill: Stares out window at hubby's ass.
END SCENE
Bill has the best dogs and shakes in town. Admittedly, I shouldn't be eating this crap anyway, especially when Bill is extremely disappointed when hubby isn't with me. Like today.
I treated myself to a dog with the works plus a chocolate shake. Bill never said, "How you doing?" or "Thank you for coming." Nothing! He just shoves food out window and says, "OK, $4.00." Like I lost a bet or something. Like it was probably $2.50, but for you, it'll be an even $4.00!
Am half tempted to tell Bill hubby only dates men who give free food and great service to wife. Hey, it could happen!
I now fully believe I have a skewed perception when it comes to Grant (son's best friend). I have a hard time seeing any bad in him at all.
My son still hasn't found his father's graphite drumsticks. I kept trying to convince him and husband that Grant didn't take them ... they're misplaced somewhere absolutely stupid.
So, lastnight when Grant and Taigh were on the phone I yelled out, "When are we going to see you again, Grant?" Within 5 seconds son asks me, "Tomorrow?" I said, "Yes, anytime." So, he'll be coming on the bus today afterschool.
"T" asked him if he even remembers seeing the drumsticks and Grant told him everywhere he played with them and where they were finally put. I am going to have Grant look for them. Worst case scenario, he does my big brother's old trick of concealing the stolen item and then saying, "Oh look, they were right here the whole time!" Best case scenario, he just finds them!
Since his parents don't give him allowance or any funds for working (even the ones they promised with each report card this year), I am going to give him a cash reward, a Star Wars action figure (he doesn't have any and Taigh has 40 or more ... ugh), plus my son's practice drum pad with stand (he uses his set now).
I don't think Grant has had any money get into his hands for about a year now. I know some would think this isn't a big deal, but I would strongly disagree. Grant is 12, Grant wants to buy things, Grant can't have them. Period. Money seems to him like a mysterious and scarce object. No matter how hard you work, you still can't get your hands on it. I'm also going to offer him jobs (yard work and such) for money. I could use the help and he's a hard worker. Grant deserves to get paid for all he does instead of told by parents after a week of doing dishes, making dinner, taking care of babies, changing diapers, doing laundry, doing all stuff his MOM should be doing ... "money's tight this week."
If he did steal the drumsticks (which I won't believe), it was only because he has been taught so little about respecting money and finance. I can help him out either way. Thankfully daughter is at sleepover so she won't be around to witness this. She feels I do too much for Grant already, which I believe stems from some type of insano jealousy. We see him just every other week now.
Ah, yes, my poor daughter with her brand new Daisy Rock guitar collecting dust, with the new cellphone on its way from UPS, her filled closet, filled chest of drawers, umpteen pairs of Chuck Taylors, and her wallet full of money I gave her for a mall trip. Money she hasn't even earned YET. Oh yeah, poor her. Haha!
I've written myself into getting upset so better head out to work on completing rock wall (almost done)!
"This city is dying (At least to me) The city is dead now (My kingdom for a friend) Are you even trying (To find some peace) Don't need a reason (I get some living in)." - 3rd Eye Blind
Lastnight I asked my husband how the blonde kid on American Idol could still be on the show. He said, "Luck, pluck, and virtue." I think that's one of the best things my husband has ever said to me so I'm starting my blog with it.
Although I don't believe in luck; pluck and virtue are biggies for me. This morning, when faced with the horror of a fasting blood draw, I just told myself these things and that I could do an early morning doctor's appointment. Having agoraphobia, having been a shut-in for about 3 years before in my life, I still have panic attacks in one-on-one situations. I don't usually leave the house until 10am, at best. I will leave for school events, but even then, like last week's D.A.R.E. graduation for my son, I still had panic and had to deep breathe through half of the proceedings.
Today I couldn't drink water, coffee, or take my usual two Klonopin (knock out panic med). This was big for me. When they said I needed to be there at 8:30am, I told them, "My bowels don't wake up until about 9:30am so that's going to be a problem." Reception laughed, thought I was joking, so I continued with, "Seriously, stomach grumbles, some gas, bowels are lazy in the morning so I like to leave after they're fully ... ummm ... awake and ... errr ... flushed." Then I get the standard, "Honey, you're fasting for this and that's when we do blood draws."
This morning I awoke early and told myself I would do it. After all, doctor was trying to seriously diagnose all of my problems. (Good luck, Doc!) One of which is being peri-menopausal. So, I go in and am handed a number (7). Number three is called and I'm like, "DAMNIT!" But I take the geisha book Amy let me borrow and try to settle into the story since I have about 15 pages to go. (I love it, by the way!)
Bowels begin waking up so I put down book and head to bathroom. Ugh. Here I go. I tell myself, "Everyone has gas. Everyone defacates. Some people even defacate on one another." This helps. I leave bathroom. Begin reading. Woman day vampire comes to take my blood. Woman day vampire sticks me with needle like it's a battering ram before I can tell her who I am. So, while I am being abused I cry out, "I'm Pat [insert mother's last name here] daughter." She immediately softens and says, "We love her here. All of us." I'm thinking, 'Duh, I know! I wouldn't have used my trump card so early if I didn't realize that.'
Now she's sweet and telling me all this stuff about my mom. I love my mom. I have respect for her even though she really hurt me and my extended family over the past few years, but hearing how much others enjoy her makes me really appreciate her in that moment. Even when my mother is taking care of an elderly father full-time who messes in his pants, falls on the floor, doesn't open his eyes, hardly talks, needs to be washed/bathed (thank God for nurses), and weighs 300 pounds ... she still goes into the doctor's office and makes them at least laugh once, or twice ... she's always "on" with others even though she's dead tired.
Maryann (nurse vampire) begins to tell me all the great things about my big brother ... how he helps take care of my father, cooks the meals, cleans. My eyes were like this: 0o ... oh, they were bigger than that, but then I started laughing and she asked, "What?" I then became very serious (while she's STILL filling up friggin' vials of blood), "My brother doesn't DO anything. My mother cooks, cleans, takes care of my father while he is on the computer, working part-time, or sleeping on the couch. He doesn't do anything except his own laundry and even that's about once a week." Now her eyes are like this: 0o. Then she admits she kind of knew that and thought my mom was "covering" for him because he has the house. So, it's just common knowledge that my brother has been willed all their possessions. I said, "Yes, she should have waited until she didn't need him so he could work for it." Nurse vampire agreed.
Then I look over all the blood and don't see anything for menopause. Well, guess what? The ONE thing I was coming in for wasn't even on the sheet. So, yup, more blood, but I got through it and am grateful. I re-learned how wonderful my mom can be and how strong I am as well ... if I want to be. ;) Luck, pluck, and virtue. My big brother, mom, and me!
Why is it summertime is the one time where you desperately want to nap with the windows open, breeze blowing in, and also want to finish 101 gigantic projects?
Ever since my screen door has been in use, I have wanted to lay in front of it with Drusilla the Pug in my arms and just sleep. Yet I know this week the north forest needs to be completely cleared, my backyard rock wall needs to be completed, and my vegetable garden needs to be composted, fertilized, and tilled.
Once I start in outside, I do just fine. I can bust my hump stacking up rocks in the wheelbarrow or brush from the forest in the burn pile, but to get out there. I kind of drag my feet a little longer every day. Like now. Typing away when I should already be ankle deep in mud.
OK, time to get to it. I used my blog to give me a pep talk. Maybe I should talk myself into losing 48 pounds tomorrow. =)
My son, like his father, plays the drums. T has had lessons for almost a full school year now. We purchased him a full-size drum set for his recent birthday. My husband even passed on his original graphite drumsticks to T a few months ago. Of course, he had a cavaet, "these are still mine, but you can use them if you want. It means until I know how serious you are about the drums, you will just be borrowing them." "T" was extremely excited and agreed.
He has used them for every drum lesson he's had every single week and also for the first time he used his new set. T loves those vintage 1984 drumsticks because they're not only cool looking, they're unbreakable.
Then his father noticed he wasn't using them and that's when we found out, they're gone. If you know anything about my son, you know he takes care of his stuff. T collects cards (baseball, Yu-Gi-Oh, etc.) and keeps them in plastic case books. His action figures have all the original weaponry. He put up shelves all by himself to display his prized collections, including ventriloquist dummies that he keeps in plastic. So, this is a bit strange.
When we both sat T down to ask him about the sticks, he asked us quietly if we thought perhaps his friend, Grant, had taken them. My husband said he was thinking the same thing and didn't know what to think. The graphite sticks were here before his friend spent the weekend with us and they were gone right after he left.
I told T to call his friend, Grant, yesterday and ask if he may have mistakenly put them in his bag. Grant said, "No, I didn't put anything into my bag," which struck T as strange. He said, "He didn't sound right, he didn't just say 'no,' he said it word for word and then his mom yelled for him to get off the phone."
Now, I know this seems miniscule, but these drumsticks have been with my husband since 1984. Back then, graphite sticks cost a pretty penny so he worked and worked and worked to save up to purchase them. He's had them everywhere we've went, across the country and back again, every house, every apartment ... every single place. I thought he was actually on the verge of crying over them yesterday because he became so quiet and just asked, "Do you really think they're gone?"
Our whole family is musical. I started guitar in 5th grade, the flute a year later. I've had my flute since 1980. It's been with me everywhere I've went. I don't know how I would feel if it was suddenly not there anymore ... even if I haven't played in months.
I guess I'm just feeling bad for my husband and wondering how I can make this right.
If you're not a big fan of Robert Redford films, the title of my blog might not sound familiar. It is the last line from one of my favorite films, "A River Runs Through It."
When I first saw the film, the warring brothers, the beautiful Montana landscapes, the battle between vice and virtue, I was with my husband and I was a girl. The film hit both of us hard for different reasons at the time. For me, it was about living in the middle of something that beautiful, that serene, and longing for it. For my spouse, it was bringing back vivid memories of his life before me with his own brother. My husband would have played the part of the bad brother minus the shmoozy personality. His brother would have been the professor, the poet.
On Mother's Day (yesterday), I requested this film because it now reminds me of my son and his best friend. His friend is the wild, impetuous boy looking for outrageous stunts to pull off, fights to pick, and a life to live ... hard. My son is the patient one, the watcher, the preacher, the one willing to bend to make others happy.
Now I am at the part of my life where I know it will end. In my teens, life was something I couldn't even give away. In my 20's, I was secure in the fact that death wasn't coming on for a long time. In my 30's, I think about being a grandmother and I wonder how much time I'll have with grandchildren, if any.
I can't say it any better than the film itself:
"Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters."
This is short, but sweet. I received my first mother's ring yesterday. Hubby was too excited to wait.
Although the one I wanted was far less and much different, I really like it. The kids picked it out, nothing is simulated or fake, and it's not gawdy. I like little, not big jewelry.
I even kept it on all night, which is strange for me. On Monday, John is taking it to have it engraved with the children's names inside. This is the only extra addition I requested.
Today is my parent's 33rd wedding anniversary. They married when I was 2. My dad is semi-vegetable so he doesn't realize what today is so I'm going to stop by with some goodies, flowers, whatever for my mom.
Tomorrow is Mother's Day. I bought my mom enough new clothes for a whole week. She has to stay in side most of the time taking care of my dad and has started to say how terrible she looks with "nothing to wear." I hope she likes everything.
I'll be going out to dinner or maybe will have hubby pick something up for the special day. I'm not sure. To be lazy or not to be lazy, that is the question!
Happy early Mother's Day to all you moms out there!
I feel like I'm having deja vu. Stop here if you've read these words: I looked at my ass 3 days ago in the mirror and didn't recognize it!
Are they new to you? OK then, keep reading.
My husband installed the new medicine cabinet in the new bathroom. Since I am short, he made it "hobbit-friendly." No more standing on tip toes to see my chin. BUT ... and unfortunately, this is a big but (and butt), on top of seeing chin, I can see my Ass (a word here and elsewhere, which deserves to be capitalized at this size) in it! Not from the front, that would just be bizarre, and well TERRIFYING, but if I turn to the side, yep, there she is! In all her infinite (a word here which means ... she just doesn't quit!) glory.
Ugh, it doesn't even look like my Ass. It looks some alien Ass has jumped onto my own Ass because it's too lazy to walk beside it. I mean, is that my Ass? I swear I've seen that Ass somewhere before. That's when it hit me ... I have my Aunt Ellie's Ass!!!
Aunt Ellie, come and take your Ass back! It's too much of a burden for me to carry! Plus, you're my favorite aunt, but I don't love you THAT much. Not enough to carry your Ass around for you!
Maybe I've been in perpetual state of Ass Denial ... where Ass size was in direct proportion to how little attention I gave it. No attention equals small Ass. My Ass was a size 6 in my head.
Now Ass being perfectly viewed in mirror equals gigantic Aunt Ellie Ass. Possibly a size 36, maybe even 40!
As funny as it reads, I'm still quite shocked and well, rather frightened. I don't know if hobbit-friendly mirror is actually good for me i.e. "wake up call" or bad for me i.e. "Aunt Ellie Ass Complex". I even keep making the Asian joke of "Eggzackry disease" by saying like an Asian man, "I have Eggzackry Disease. My Ass looks eggzackry like Aunt Ellie's." It makes no sense and isn't even funny, but somehow I'm hoping just joking over this ginormous Ass will make it go away. Kind of like the school nerd who wanders too far into your space bubble. Make fun of him, he'll go away, yet Ass is NOT leaving. Ass was in mirror again TODAY!
And just the acknowledgement of having Aunt Ellie's Ass has made other light bulb moments appear like the ever popular, "Oh my God, my thighs are bigger around than my child's waist! I have Aunt Ellie's thighs!" or the cult classic, "Dude, Where's My Waist?" I can say this with complete sincerity; finding out I have Aunt Ellie Ass with matching hips, thighs, and stomach will only lead to more aggressive weight loss program or muu muu styled clothing. Since I really swore to myself never to wear the smock dress of grandmother's past, it has to be weight loss.
Although, I could always paint over lower half of mirror and tell John I don't appreciate his obvious prejudice against height. Then again, denial is one of the major symptoms of Aunt Ellie's Ass. [sigh] Hard work, it is!
Lately, I've found my anger is out of control. Granted ... I'm not walking up to people and shoving them, I'm not going out in my car to have planned fits of road rage, and I'm not beating the kids, but still ... the anger is always there. Inside of me. My husband says the mornings with me (the few minutes he has with me in the morning, that is) have become unbearable.
Why is it when I just wake up from not even good sleep, when I'm not fully awake or even alive, am I expected to smile and yell back "GOOD MORNING"? My husband gets up one half hour before I do so he can hit the showers first. So, he's had the shower, the playing of hair on head, the shave, the teeth brushing ... all that to wake him up. I've just been laying in bed with blanket over head as not to see sun yet and to drown out daughter's demon cat's incessant meowing.
The minute hubby comes into the room, if I pull off the covers off or even just slowly sit up, he'll say, "GOOD MORNING!" Loudly too. I haven't even used my vocal cords yet so I quietly raspily say, "morning" in return. Of course, he says I grumble it out of my lips like it's torture for me ... so on some mornings, knowing he'll critique my "morning" later on at night, I don't say anything. I just nod.
Is that so awful? I mean, if I were to walk in your house and right after I saw you moving around in bed, I jumped in the room and shouted happily, "MORNING!" ... would this please you? OK, let's say you know me ... say I'm your hairdresser or something. OK, maybe not hairdresser because well, that's just frightening to think of hairdresser watching you sleep only to scream MORNING at you when you wake up. Well, just anyone then ... anyone you feel comfortable with doing that to you. Would it still make you wake right up, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to yell "MORNING" in return? All happy like?
I think not, yet my husband disagrees. This is the same guy who wakes the children up by rubbing their backs and whispering (a word here which means actually talks quietly) "come on, time to start your day," but NO, I get the lead singer from the B-52's ... "MORNING!" I don't think it's fair and I may just start getting up one minute before the alarm goes off to hop on top of husband while still sleeping to scream happily, "Zippydeedooda, BABY!" That'll show 'em.
I wonder if this will make him an angry person and if it does, I can say with pride and full conviction, "See? YOU made me what I am today."
One of the greatest loves of my life is a little black pug named Drusilla. I would show you a picture of her, but my photo hosting site is down. Just imagine perfect pug dog with white on chest. Little, not fat ... perfect! =)
Drusilla is not the smartest dog in the world, but I'm convinced she's the most loving. Although she will be two this summer, she still loves to be held and carried around. Dru follows me from the bathroom to the bedroom to the kitchen to outdoors and back again. We read together, plant together, sleep together, watch TV together ... we do everything together. My armrest in the car is her "perch."
Drusilla's name was borrowed from the show, "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." However, my Drusilla is neither evil nor a vampire. In fact most of her teeth don't even look fully erupted. The only time the name Drusilla is substituted for Dru in the house is when she's in trouble.
Lastnight, while in bed, her name was Drusilla. Dru is now in season. For non-dog owners out there, it basically means she has her period. A dog's period is MUCH different than a human's. For one, it only comes about once every 6 months and for two, it lasts for about 3 weeks.
Another difference: humans know how to wear pads and do so discreetly. Dogs do not know how to wear pads, therefore they rub their bodies all over the ground in an attempt to take off mock dog-panties which are the only thing holding them on.
Dru has figured out if she flops over on her back, almost as if she's like, "D'oh, I've been shot!" and if she then rolls down a surface, her panties will come off. At first I just thought perhaps she had taught herself some strange new trick, which would have been officially the only trick in her repertoire. But alas it was a calculated maneuver ... the likes of which ruins my feather bed each and every time. If you've ever had to launder a featherbed every day of you life, then you know my pain. If you haven't, you don't.
So, I think, 'I'm a reasonably smart individual. I can create my own dog panties by knitting them! After all, knitting is breathable, it won't bind her, I can form fit it to her, I pick the groovy patterns and colors.' Hurrah! Another knitting project is born and it has been completed in record time!
This morning, my experiment gets put on her and for the first hour, the knitted pants were a lifechanging experience. Dru hardly noticed they were on and the coverage/fit was excellent. However, it is now after 1 in the afternoon. The form-fitting super dog pants (my little nickname for them) are now a bit baggy in the nether regions and therefore, not really protecting anything anymore. Her oversized private part now is partially peeking out at me at all times. [sigh]
I may have to decide whether or not I truly would like to breed her once or just take her to doc for the spaying. If I don't take her, it could be good excuse to make more panties though and I'm sure just a bit of tweaking may yield better results ... such as stain-free home/featherbed/couch ... you get the point. =)
First, I just had to say, there's something strangely exhiliarating, yet oddly frightening, when posting to a blog only one other person reads. You have no idea if you are writing the other person or for yourself. Either way, since I care for the one reader dearly, the exhiliarating part comes from NOT having to censor myself. Hurrah!
The reason I'm here ... today is my son's 11th birthday.
For the sake of remaining anonymous and not putting children into stalker-type situation, I will leave my son's name out my Blog. Since both of my children have one-of-a-kind, meaning if I told you, you would never have seen it before (yes, guaranteed), to write it would be to lead you straight to him. And since I don't know when the occasional stalker might want to learn about knitting or gardening, well, you see my dilemma.
Last weekend was my son's party with friends at the neighborhood bowling alley. He had a blast and so did everyone else. My son received money, and a few presents. His grandmother gave him $70 more making his new obsession opening wallet to stare at cash. Sometimes he even sniffs it. [insert puzzled face emoticon here]
My son's father and I bought him his first drum set. Not just a starter model, but a legitimate drum set. This thing is HUGE, but beautiful looking in a gloss black. I'm not sure who likes it more ... father or son. [insert giggling emoticon here]
Dad played drums all his life until the point of marriage, but is still quite good. Son started lessons a year ago and actually took off with them really quickly. Even being on a set is something he "took to" without trouble ... a fact, which made his father beam with pride.
Today, my son whose name begins with a "T" so I'll just refer to him as that (no more clues though), awoke to a room full of blown up balloons. Blown up by myself (and just myself) the night before. After I finish the job of blowing up two packages of balloons, I have 3 thoughts dancing around my head ...
1.) I must quit smoking. 2.) Wow, that's a lot of balloons! 3.) The room is spinning.
After "T" dove headfirst into balloons this morning, he took a shower (we waited for him to go first so he would be sure to get all the hot water ... something he thoroughly enjoyed as last week he almost went on "shower strike" due to frigid temps). While he showered, I prepared him his requested breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and OJ. Both father and son had this. Father was very happy with "T's" request. [insert laughing emoticon here, but not uproariously laughing, just laughing with shoulders hunching a bit]
I took "T" and sister to school, but stopped at Dunkin' Donuts first to buy T's classmates some Munchkins (the donut holes, not wee people ... we're not cannibals and I wouldn't know how to cook them even if we were although I'm thinking a spit outside would do the trick). Children arrived one minute before needed in home rooms so I am hoping it will not be marked as tardy since we left 15 minutes early. (blame it on Dunkin' Donuts line)
Back home, I did a thorough scrubbing of counters/surfaces, two loads of laundry, sweeping, mopping, disinfecting of phones/remote controls/door knobs/fridge/microwave/etc., vacuuming, folding clothes, putting away clothes ... you name it! Then I put up all the decorations, decorated the table, put out the already wrapped presents. This list is the abbreviated version. The real one took me all day.
Although I was crying over the eggs this morning due to being ill over "food smells" after just waking up, "T" made up for this by stating, "You always make our birthdays special days. I always feel like for one day, it's all about me." And I thought he didn't notice. Didn't notice me crying, which was what straightened me up. [insert nodding emoticon here]
So, I'm not feeling bad over spending so much on him for his special day, for having two parties, for making a big breakfast, for splurging on lobster (his requested special birthday dinner), for even the death I will give to the lobster, and the sacrifice some cow gave us for the fabulous New York strip I'm also serving. I won't feel bad when shucking the corn or cutting up the potatoes to roast in my famous bacon and garlic oil. I won't lament over all the carrots lost to my son's carrot cake (his choice). I'll just remember for one day (just ONE because I actually do have a life), it's all about him.
I can't imagine what it will be like when the children are both off at school. Actually, I don't want to imagine it ... so won't.
Happy Birthday, My Son! I couldn't have ordered up a better son from the gods.
Your loving mother who was really just seasoning the eggs with salt water,
Since conception, I have not slept through an entire night. To be fair, I don't actually remember anything before the womb ... and even a few years after that, but my mother assures me, this is true. I have never slept more than 2-3 hours at one time.
As a child, I couldn't fall sleep. I would stare around the room I shared with my sister in wide-eyed terror waiting for ghosts, goblins, witches, and Howdy Doody to pop out at me. Howdy Doody was my sister's ventriloquist's dummy. Howdy Doody, the beloved puppet of the Howdy Doody show, became a homicidal maniac in my house.
In a bizarre set-up of hidden string and yarn, my sister made Howdy move at night, turn his head to me, pick up a hand when I looked him, sometimes he would even leap off the dresser. Leap! (okay, crash to the ground in a heap, but to an 8 year old, it was an Olympic dismount) And although, my brothers thought it was "only my imagination," they would still remove him from the room and bury him (yes, BURY) under piles of clothing to make sure I was safe. (yes , safe ... everyone fed the paranoia) Burying him guaranteed only further torment from Howdy, but I was young and well, terrified! Yeah, terrified ought to cover it.
As a teen, I still had a series of irrational fears. Is it any wonder after briefly reading about my sister? Now my brothers were helping as well. If you don't remember the horror classic "Trilogy of Terror," this will have no affect on you whatsoever, but when I would go into the shower, they would shove a long kitchen knife under the door making the familiar "aye - yee yee - yee - yee" scream that still haunts me to this day. If you weren't alive in the 70's or were in a drug-induced haze during it, Karen Black and the little wooden killer Zuni doll. Does that ring any bells?
OK, how about a picture then:
I went through my coming of age awake most of the night. I couldn't find restful sleep. I tried all the common cures ... warm milk, turkey, sleeping pills (6 at a time), alcohol, marajuana. All of them. Some even as cocktails.
Now at 34, I'm convinced developing and keeping insomnia is something you really have to work at then accept! You have to feed irrational fears even further by watching films as an adult, which you KNOW you have no business even glancing at in passing. Two words: The Ring.
You become hyper-sensitive to all noises. A gentle tick of a clock sounds like a kettle drum. The light breathing of a child sounds like a windstorm. So, you take the din and try to drown it out with even greater din ... box fans, CDs playing ocean waves crashing on the shore, a rainstorm, but you can still hear everything you've tried covering up. Somewhere behind the synthetic noise you've created, life is still happening.
Here I am, here I've been ... sitting since 5am. Over 3 decades of my life ... vanished ... and I still don't know what it's like to sleep through the night. I'm just here ... listening to my husband's death rattle of a snore, my pug's deviated septum, and the whir of my tower. Computer's tower, that is. If I were listening to wind whirring outside an actual tower I was living in, I'd probably swap this blog entry for walking on the moors. I'd probably have some type of haggard nurse maid whip me up a magic brew made out of nightshade or something to drop off for a while.
It's the simple things in life that truly matter the most. Someday, somehow ... I will sleep through the night or have a haggard nurse maid, whichever comes first.
