100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 56

Breakfast:  Eggs, bacon, hash browns
Lunch:  Taco Taco, small burrito, two crunchy tacos, huge soda
Dinner:  Crappy, limp salad, a couple of spoons/tastes of some truly heinous clam chowder, some oyster crackers and three lemon wedges
Snack:  The better part of a pound of cherries on the way home from my crappy day, some Kruncher chips

Breakfast with my friends, great coffee, lousy and surly service.  What the hell is wrong with people?  Seriously, the world seems to be full of seriously cranky people, which is somewhat comforting because I can be very cranky and cranked-up, although I keep it to myself, well, most of the time. 

I ate out three times today and accept how messed-up that is.  The lunch one was a place where you are not allowed to give tips, and the counter guy there left his counter during a lull and went around asking everyone if their food was O.K., and if they needed anything, which is totally not the kind of sweet service one would expect in such a humble place, but there it was and the guy was so nice.  When I had ordered and paid for my food, I saw a sign for a lemonade drink that had fruit, as in actual fruit and juice, in it and asked if it had been sweetened, and when the counter guy confirmed that, I mentioned that it looked really great, but that I had to avoid sugar and his reply was, "Well, in that case, just to help you feel better, that stuff is nasty, nasty, nasty!"  He referenced it again when he wandered by to ask if we needed anything.  Such a nice touch.  It happened again later at the drug store when a young guy came up to me and asked if he could help me find anything, which he could and which he did, telling me a couple of cool stories about rock climbing in the process of being super-duper helpful. 

The world is full of nice people like that, which makes the perpetual corps of doofuses (or, is it doofi?) just that much more noticeable.  Dinner with the friend that needs hauling everywhere had the same kind of person.  Sad service and really bad soup.  And, you know, when it comes to receiving service, I am a very low maintenance diner/customer/client/ordinary person.  I never send stuff back when dining.  I am a good consumer so that I never, ever, ever have to return anything to a store.  I do not request any kind of special attention and just go with the flow as much as possible so as to avoid even the merest suggestion of any problem.  I am just as non-confrontational in public as I am in the more private parts of my life.  That makes me sound like a doormat, and I guess that I mostly am that.

Whatever.  You know, I get to where I can stand up and then it just drifts away, that feeling that I have the ability and self-responsibility to do it.  Just...drifts...away...poof...there it goes.

And, it is not helping that I was clearing out some of the junk that I never revisit from my computer files and stumbled into the writings of a friend who lost her son a few years ago.  I read and then went back in time and read from the beginning of that loss, the tragedy and pain of losing that lovely boy.  Then, I was no longer weeping for my own losses and problems, but for the absence of that sweet and wonderful boy and all of the people and places and things that we no longer have in our lives, individually and collectively, all that stuff that makes life worth the struggle, at least it did before it came up missing. 

I know that my sorrow is not unique, at least in the larger aspect of a life, mine, yours, the lives of everyone.   You know that saying about how happy families are alike in their happiness, but unhappy families are unique in their unhappiness.  Yeah, like that.  But, even though our individual pain is specific to the qualities and experiences of each of our lives, the entirety of sadness connects us because we all feel loss and sorrow and pain pretty much the same, as only human bodies and minds and hearts can...that is what connects us.

So, my friend's pain at losing her son is sort of my pain, too, because I knew and loved him in my own way, but it mirrors all of the suffering of my own life.  I feel the same qualities of pain for her loss as I do for my own. 

It is like this stupid visual disorder that I have and that other people, not many, but more than enough, have and when someone reads about what another person's symptoms are like and how it fucks up their life, someone else might say that they really do not have anything to complain about because they view their own symptoms as being less somehow, and that is total bullshit.  The difficulty each person has is equal in significance to that of another person and to compare them is pointless.  We all suffer at our own level of discomfort, pain.  And, it is, it is how we are connected.  

So, I am feeling sad about all of this stuff again, and instead of trying to get rid of it, I think that I might want to, might actually honor it a bit tonight.  I do not intend to wallow, but I am going to allow myself to feel it as fully as possible, immerse myself in the experience, re-experience it as completely as I can, acknowledge it and then let it pass through me, fall away from my physical body and into the earth, my planet, our Mother, where it can be honored and transformed into something good, something wonderful, something life-affirming.  I can do that.

I did not draw this GP, but I did pay for it in a collection of clip art and it (and the slight alteration I made to it) perfectly suits my general lack of understanding and intelligence today.  Yep.  It does.  But, I can transcend it, yes? 

Yes.

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 49

Breakfast:  2 breakfast sandwiches
Lunch:  Some kind of ravioli with goat cheese, herbs and a pale pink sauce, 2 slices of a baguette
Dinner:  Caramel apple with nuts, some Pringles
Snacks:  Fruit ice cream, chocolate dipped, several samples of salsa, fruit donut, fruit daiquiri

Today was all non-home food.  I think that the caramel apple has done me in, because I can barely stay awake.  So, this will be short and sweet...fruit festival pun!

Early day, lots of fun and plenty of butter and fruity olive oil on my bread.  The village had several shops dedicated to European countries.  One was Irish and I bought truly cool  family heraldic things for someone who is not me, some cool toys and name pictures for the babies and a necklace for me, which I promptly deconstructed to free the two elements that I wanted from it.  Shortly after that, we saw a sign for daiquiris of the festival fruit, which we had.  It was a cool place and we decided to return for lunch, which was amazing, even though the waitperson brought me the wrong thing. 

After that we wandered around, visiting shops, sampling an stunning array of salsas (one of which had a delayed effect and left me sweating, a habanero mixture that really was not all that hot to begin), buying small gifts and listening to music.  At one area there were musicians that are likely to have little work other than festivals and another area featuring a group that would have kept us sitting and listening for hours, which we did not have.

I really, really wanted an ear of freshly roasted corn, but lunch filled us and ice cream bars freshly dipped in dark chocolate finished us off.  So, no corn for me, or anything else for that matter.

When I arrived home, I found that one of my friends had bought a caramel apple and slipped it into my bag.  You know, strictly in the spirit of being a good friend, it only made sense to have it for dinner.  Now I need a serious nap, and I am guessing that it will be only a few more minutes before I fall asleep.  I wonder what my blood sugar level is.  Lordy.

It was a nice day.  I am glad that I went and I think it might be worth a return next year.  And, it involved walking nearly all of the time, like six hours of trekking around.  No wonder I am tired.

Another GP heart. 

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 48

Breakfast:  Nothing
Lunch:  2 hot dogs, relish, jalapenos, yellow mustard
Dinner:  Baked cod, baked potato (sour cream, butter, tons of pepper), cole slaw

Planning ahead for dinner, there would be no serious food during the day.  So, I had funny food, a pair of hot dogs from the gas station, one of my favorite guilty pleasures of all time.  In decades of having them, I have only gotten sick one time and that was earlier this year.  I have to admit that it put me on alert, but it never made me think of never having them again.  It is only every few months that I do so. 

My son-in-law's sister loves them, as well, and it was one of the ways that we bonded, because she did not really like me all that much.  She did not have much of a chance, though, because I am relentless and will wear you down until you simply cannot resist me.  It would be nice if some people just liked me for who I am, but if I have to persist, then that is what I am willing to do.  In my sixty-four years, there are only a handful of people who have not succumbed to my will, one of which you can guess, Dear Diary.  Yep.  No amount of anything has helped there.

So, anyway, dinner was to celebrate the birthday of a friend who I met on pilgrimage to England and Wales a long time ago.  She moved to the D.C. area to be closer to family a few years ago and when she comes back it is always worthy of celebration, but this time it coincided with her birthday so that is what we did.

The restaurant is kind of a bar/tavern that grew.  Years ago it was a nice place to go for lunch and have a nice burger or reuben sandwich and excellent fries.  Well, tonight, it looked the same from the front, but once inside, it was like stepping into an alternate universe.  I mean, the place was huge.  And, it was packed.  And, it was expensive.  Holey-moley.  It ended well, but tomorrow's trip to the fruit festival will find me with less cash.  Probably just as well, since the food there is supposed to be amazing.  Like, truly.

All in all, not a bad day, food wise.

However, I did learn a few things.

I learned that I could have an outstanding week, bi-polar issues aside, and I think that it was because I stood up for myself.  Twice.  Once last week when the most recent attack took place, and again this morning when an attempt to do it again happened.  I will never win even a moment's peace here, but, crap, I stood up for myself and the world did not end.  I know that retaliation is coming.  Not only because it always does, but because I overheard part of a telephone conversation.  At least I know part of what is coming.  Forewarned is forearmed, and all that jazz.  Anyway, I have to practice this standing up and make it a part of more of what happens around here.  After this thing this morning, I just sat there, here actually at my desk, and threw myself on the mercy of the Universe.  Oh, please, allow something or some way to manifest so that I can move on.

Which brings me to the second thing I learned today, and it is that it is fine to hold on to my dreams.  Wishes, hopes, dreams, they are all worth having, even when they are impossible, even when you probably do not deserve to have them come to pass.  Yeah, even then.  Sometimes they are all that keep me going, that yearning for a better life where there would not be all of this mess and stress.  The truth is that I could pack my crap and leave any time I wanted.  O.K. that is true, but it is not the whole truth.  Diary, you know what binds me here and when that is resolved, well, we will see what happens.

I learned that if your friend, the nun, tells you a story about one of the people she serves in her community and makes a stupid comment about how not bright one of the men is because he is a member of a minority, that I can ask her what that means and just let her talk until she realizes that her assessment of him is more related to inadequate educational opportunities than lack of intelligence.  However, there was nothing I could do to dissuade her from the whole race thing.  I mean, if you cannot count on a nun to be fair and balanced, then who can you count on? 

I learned that even when a friend is generally despicable, I can still find a way to be a friend.  It was not easy, but I did it. I think that feeling so good helped, but this has been a concern for me for a long time and it was nice to take the high road and try to get over some of the other stuff.

I learned that even when I feel like stabbing myself with a fork, that I can get through a dinner with her and still be friendly and conversational, even when the other her bails and moves to the end of the table to avoid her, the first one.  Hours later, still making me smile.  However, she...the first her...is not going to be a part of any of my future travel plans.  I go away to get away, not to take any of the stuff with me.

The birthday girl invited me to visit her and when two other of our friends overheard (not the her), they invited themselves along and the birthday girl was delighted.  I said that I would meet them all out there, D.C., since they prefer to fly and they decided that they would love to take the train, as well.  Sigh.  I am not all that worried, since I have months to make other arrangements to go alone and not hurt the feelings of anyone, all women that I love.  It will work out.  Yep.  Oh, and the learning here is that I now realize that I am not willing to spend my away time with anyone.  I mean, how selfish is that.  Really selfish.  I have some serious work to do here.

Alrighty, another heart.

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 40

Breakfast:  Eggs, bacon, roll...all right, 2 rolls, but they were little
Lunch:  Apple
Dinner:  McDonald's with my baby and her babies

Forty days.  Forty nights, too, I guess.  How biblical.  It seems as though I expected to breeze through this mess of an idea.  And, certainly, by this time I should be as healthy as it is possible to be and perhaps even a little svelte.  Or, at least, a little less bulgy, which I am, but not very much.  I am, however, walking like a champ.  I rarely even think of my cane, although I will be taking it along this weekend and on future trips, no matter how long they are.  It would be foolish to be stuck somewhere and not have anything to help me get around.  In the support of honesty, though, I am taking a whole shitload of pain meds, but I am still managing with the cane.  That has to count for something, yes?

I had this goofy feeling just a few minutes ago.  I spent the day with my daughter and the babies.  We played and made stuff and created stories with cars.  Actually, it was the little baby who made up the stories.  I just played along.  His big brother helped me to knit and was sad that he could not handle the needles, and I was thinking that he might be able to manage one of those round knitting things.  Once I get the yarn set, it should be fairly easy for him to guide the yarns and lift the stitches.  He has really good fine motor control and even managed to crochet a chain this afternoon, so the knitting thing is worth a try.  If it does not work, then I will have that cool device for myself.

Oh, the goofy thought was that it felt fine to walk and that I felt better somehow.  It might be that I am no longer choking and gagging and coughing out my remaining bits of lung, but it had a different quality to all of that tonight.  I felt fluid in a way that I have not for a long time.  I thought that being away from home for over-full days, two days in a row, and away from the crap here, might be contributing to that sense of well-being.  Then, I thought that maybe clearing my schedule so that I can get back into organizing this joint better and finding my way back into the studio might not be what I need right now, the part of that where I will be staying home and in the house more.  Then, I thought, what the hell.  If I want to have a tidy environment and do some messing around with sculpting or painting or some damn thing, that is what I should do, so I quickly dismissed the option of filling my schedule to the gills again and am hoping that I can manage better with avoiding the stuff that saddens me so.  I am going to give it my best shot.  Hope for the best.  Regroup if I have to.  Bitch, moan and complain as needed, but still get through it.  God, I hope I can do that.  If it does not work out as well as I would like, I can always fall back on stabbing myself into unconsciousness.

So, dinner.  The little baby, at two and a half years of age, has never been inside a McDonald's restaurant.  Sure, he has had the occasional burger and fries, I have even bought that stuff on my way to their house for lunch, but today was his first time inside one of them.

My daughter lives in a tiny town, so it was no surprise that the other mom and the dad that showed up in the playroom were toting children that are in my big grandson's preschool.  The boys had a great time, especially when the dad growled and chased them.  My little grandson was completely unfamiliar with the kind of play equipment they have there and it was nearly time to go home before he could bring himself to cross the threshold at the top of the stairs.  I would have been hesitant, too, because he had to leave the steps and step into a bowl.  He finally did it, and I navigated him up to the next level, where he sat, walked around and told me about how he was at the airport, another place he has never been.  They live a quiet, calm life and are just as simple as I am in their daily practices, you know, the day-to-day ones of ordinary life, so this was a big deal for all of us.

As a grandma, it was nice to meet my grandson's friends and their parents.  I hope we get to do more of that sort of thing during this summer at the park.

I am trying to stay hungry, at least most of the time.  I figure that it will help me to not overeat, the theory being that I will greatly reduce my appetite in the process, and to faithfully stick to standard portion sizes.  I am not sure how close I stayed to that at our fast food dinner, but I did have a diet soft drink, a grilled chicken sandwich, no mayo and I ate only half of the bun, but I made up for it with lots of fries.  And, catsup.

Early day tomorrow, so I am not sharing some things that I wanted and they will have to wait for another time.  I am close to running out of GP images, but this one is named "I will stand by you."

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 35

Breakfast:  Eggs, maybe a quarter cup of hash browns, a pancake with margarine and syrup, tons of coffee
Lunch:  Restaurant meal, turkey breast, mashed potatoes, gravy, a tiny bit of cranberry sauce, some really excellent steamed, fresh broccoli, half a small roll, 2 glasses of diet cola, half a piece of french silk pie
Dinner:  Shame and a carton of Häagen-Dazs

I had breakfast with the friends this morning, followed by an extra (and long) session with a client who cannot come during the week, as she does not want her current employer to know that she is pumping up her résumé for a possible new job.  She is not sure she want to make the switch at this time, but has to make a decision by a deadline this week.  She is under the impression that I did great things for her, but the truth is that the most important work that I do with clients is to help them open that part or parts of themselves where the work can be done.  I am just the facilitator, just another tool.

Well, so far so good, yes?  Yes.  Then I picked up the woman that I take to lunch and her appointments and errands.  It was so frustrating that I told her that today's lunch was our last.  Today was the final scene that did me in.  So, no more of her making a huge fuss about money and how much I tip and all the rest.  The fussing she does with sales clerks is also to much of a strain.  I know that it is selfish of me, I do, I am selfish, but being embarrassed by her tirades against me and others when we are out and about is just too, well, embarrassing.  Humiliating to be on the receiving end of that all the time.  It is over.  From now on she gets three hours, door to door, no more meals, only errands and doctor appointments.  I doubt that she is taking this seriously.  And, you know, it is not my problem that she cannot get along well enough with her family to be able to live close to them.  I am willing to be her friend, but not her servant.

So, anyway, by the time the nearly seven hours today was over, I was exhausted and firmly ashamed of myself for not being able to be more patient.  I kept thinking today that I would want someone to be more patient and supportive of me when I am unable to get myself around comfortably, at least more so than I am able to be for her lately.  Seriously, Universe, please help me to be a better person.

Then, I had to stop at the market because there is not much food around here and I was totally dreading it, knowing how likely it was that I would buy all kinds of inappropriate stuff.  I mostly did fine, with lots of supportive self-talk and reminding myself that I will be traveling a bit over the next three weeks and that everything is going to be fine and 'no' I do not need that cake or those chewy rolls or that frozen pizza or even the chocolate covered strawberries in the produce department.  Really, baby, those strawberries need to stay right there, really they do.  It's O.K., put them back, you will be fine.  Really.  You will.

So, I went and got some meat and green peppers, cottage cheese, a few boxes of those low-calorie frozen meal things, eyeliner, cat food, more cat food and on the way to the checkout, I grabbed two cartons of ice cream.  Granted, they are the little 14 ounce-ers, but they are each a freaking 14 ounces!  Lordy.

I put them back.  Then turned back and took three, turned again, put two back, turned once more and took one of them and finally checked-out.  The interesting part, you know, aside from the total lack of self-control part, is that the four people in front of me were buying only alcohol.  Three customers buying cases of beer and the guy right in front of me with a bottle of whiskey.  I had the audacity to think to myself, hey, do you need any booze?  I stayed in line, but just barely.

Dinner was a half-hour ago and it was one of the cartons of ice cream.  I am wallowing in shame, spiralling in waves of shame and then I realize that it is only just a carton of ice cream.  It is dairy and it had lots of fruit in it, and for the moment I am in denial about the sugar, although the eggs could redeem this a bit.  It really could have been worse.  I could have chowed down on so many other things and whilst there is still another ice cream in the freezer, I think that my melty fail just now is not the end of the world, much less the end of me.

I will have my meat, salad and vegetables tomorrow for dinner.  I will choose healthy options when my daughter and I are out for lunch tomorrow.  I will have fun at church and with the babies and this is just a minor setback.

And, I will stay out of the market because I saw that those chips in the can, the salt and vinegar ones, are on sale and, well, I will just stay out of the market.

GP.  Simple, although I think a few more hearts might be in order.

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 29

Breakfast:  Eggs, 4 strips of pre-cooked bacon (yes, I am lazy on top of everything else), 4 squared of chocolate
Lunch: A lot of wonderful food, but slightly too much of it, at one of those really good buffet places.
Dinner:  Glass of red wine to help wash down the shame of lunch

I am doing this differently today.  Since I am not doing anything useful, I thought that I would write this in segments, as drafts are allowed here.  That is one of the things I most like about Google.  Whatever the product, you can always save in draft form.

So, anyway, I am just about to get ready to take one of my ss women to lunch.  I have limited these excursions to three hours, but she drags them out for at least an additional hour, which is still much better than the usual six to twelve hours she prefers.  I feel exceptionally mean about making these time restrictions.  She has only one other friend.  That friend is often cross and impatient with her, but if you have only just the two friends and one of them (me) has other things scheduled during the week, the one that is left is still your only other friend.

Now, with this time thing, I am going to be one of her cross and impatient friends, too, I guess.  I do not want to be that kind of friend.  It sucks to be that kind of friend.  But, I have to be, otherwise I would never have any time for myself.  This friend, today's friend, would prefer that I pick her up and take her places two or three times a week, not for appointments or anything, but just for social contact.  If I were not responsible for three other people just like her, I might be willing to do that.  But, I cannot, I simply cannot do all of that.  I can squeeze three such visits/trips into a week, but they cannot be all for one person.

Besides, none of the four people for whom I do this is willing to just go to the park and sit or take a lunch from home.  They are not interested in going to a mall or some other public place and just sitting and talking.  They all want to eat out and go shopping.  They can afford it, I cannot.  What they cannot do is to drive themselves.  For that they need me.  Well, I hope that they need and want me for more than that, but the truth is that I am not sure that it is for anything more than the driving aspect.  Even if that is so, I can still do this with one of them during the week.  Whilst I can often manage to avoid spending anything when they shop, it is nearly impossible to avoid having to fork out money at a restaurant, and it is absolutely impossible for me to take food from home along.  I try to eat before I leave to fetch them so that I will not arrive someplace and be ravenous, and then find the least expensive thing on the menu, but it still adds up.

I have no idea where she wants to go today.  She want to surprise me.  Yeah, she is sweet like that and looks to make these outings fun for me, too.  She buys a coupon book every year from some non-profit organization and likes to use those things to try new restaurants.  One of them, last month, was a hour and a half drive away, but it turned out to be one of the best places we have ever been.

Off to have fun!

It is official.  I totally suck at having a backbone.  I do and it is time that I just gave in and admitted it.  No freaking backbone, and to illustrate how that is, today's three hour lunch just ended at seven and a half hours.  It included a trip to a medium box store, where I found heirloom Roma tomatoes and a Black Krim.  Both are strong and sturdy and double-stemmed plants and are in the ground and awaiting a nice, deep watering in the morning.  Yeah, even people without backbones know not to water this close to nighttime.

As for the three hour limit on taking someone out, I really do give up.  I will save it for the times when I really cannot afford a minute more, as well as limiting these excursions to once every other week. 

So, I am wondering what the friendship of some of the people in my life means and where those relationships are going, if they are going anywhere.  The one who screwed me over is pretty much history.  We will still have to see each other at the gallery, but the connection is severed, at least on my end.  Frankly, if he could treat me like he did, there never existed any kind of relationship between us.  All in all, no loss for him and only some residual sadness for me.

And, today's friend, the older woman that I take places, well, what is that all about anyway.  I have to decided if I really am her friend and how I am going to accept who she is and just get the hell over myself.  I can do that.

Today's GP is an angel, just in case you cannot figure out what it is.

Yes, this really is an angel!

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 27

Breakfast:  Eggs
Lunch:  Subway roast beef, provolone, lots of veggies, no dressing or mustard or other junk
Dinner:  Steak, meatloaf, green beans, mixed vegetables, carrots, sugar-free fudge frozen thing, 3 cans of diet orange soda

So, anyway, the day went well, until the friend who is, I guess not my friend showed up.  We had a brief conversation and I left because it just makes me so sad and I keep pulling up my big girl panties and trying to move beyond this and, gosh, I just cannot pull those panties up any further without risking a trip to the emergency room.

Why is this so difficult for me?  I am foolish.  I really am.  I should not be caring about someone who is willing to fuck me over without a second thought and who finds it amazing that I would have the nerve to be sensitive about it.  You know, I just have to wonder why I even care about this.  And, this goes way beyond betrayal and marginalization and all that stuff.  Like I said, foolish, that is me.

So, I am driving home and I have a huge craving for ice cream.  I think about stopping for a cone or something at Dairy Queen, but it is not on my way home and I think that I will stop at the grocery store to buy some.  I start in saying, aloud, that I deserve to be healthy and I deserve to be slimmer and weigh less and deserve to have healthy lungs and heart and deserve to have less pain in my knees, hip and feet and I deserve to be healthy.

I stop at the grocery store and I fill my cart with diet soft drinks.  Orange (cans), cola (bottles) and three kinds of diet Snapple, all fruit flavors.  Next stop is the meat case where I buy three steaks, on sale and lots cheaper than the amount of ice cream that I would be more than happy to eat.  Meat is next to the bakery.  How mean is that?  I walk past it, gazing longingly at the breads and death by chocolate cake and lemon bars and fruit tarts and tolero rolls and triple chocolate muffins and croissants.  Lordy.  There were other things that I do not even like and they looked great, too.  But, I kept on walking to the dairy section to get more eggs.  Coming around the front end I pass the liquor department and think, "Oh, a nice glass of bourbon would be nice," and I finally cave and turn right into the frozen treat aisle.  I look at all of it and grab a box of sugar-free fudge things.

Then, I go directly to the check-out lanes, tossing two 86% cocoa chocolate bars on top of everything else, pay for my stuff and go home.  Narrow escape, yes?  No.  Once home, I broil the steak, cook some frozen green beans, portion out some of the steak for the cats, sprinkle a little fleur de sel on the rest and eat.  Really, really good, mostly because I did not, for once, overcook the meat.

Half an hour later I am starving, so I get one of those fudge things.  Twenty minutes later I am starving so I have two cans of that orange soda and a couple of ounces of tumbled carrots.  Finishing the last can, I am starving.  It has now been ninety minutes since I had dinner and I am hungry.  I go and stand in front of the refrigerator, just daring myself to open it.  I do not, but I do open the freezer.  I take out some frozen meatloaf and a little baggie of mixed vegetables, leftovers from who know when, nuke them, eat them and wait.  I have another orange soda.  I wait.  It has now been two hours and I think that I am finally finished eating for the night.  Another orange soda, just opened, to take my meds. 

For dinner I ate two portions of steak (half was supposed to be for lunch tomorrow), a portion of meat loaf, four portions of vegetables, a frozen fudge thing and am now on my 4th soda.  Good freaking grief.

And, why?  Because I am heartsick at this whole, stoopid friend thing and I am a freaking emotional eater.  This is why I need to join a program or get a therapist or some damn thing. 

You know, I recognized that I was over-reactive and hungry because I was upset on the drive home.  I planned on healthy food and bought mostly that, if you discount the chocolate (which I still have not eaten, by the way, and have no desire for) and the diet sodas.  I did all kinds of positive self-talk and affirmed the crap out of myself and I still was ravenous to fill that empty space and fill it I did, with food.  I am fine now, but when it was happening I was frantic with hunger. 

I am not a kid.  I am smart enough to figure this out, with or without a group or program or shrink.  I am.  I am hoping that tonight was some kind of liminal experience and that I learned whatever I was intended to learn and that I can hold on to whatever that was.  I feel like I am running in circles, a bit of forward movement, but not straight ahead, rounding back on myself to begin again, over and over.  I want this 100 days to be a time for developing new habits, ones that will serve me instead of serving me cake and chips and dip.  Tonight felt like a fail when I was caught in its thrall, but now it feels like a gift.

I can do this.  I can...I can...I can.  I am.  I believe in myself, even if there is not anyone else who does.  I deserve this getting healthier thing.  I do.

GP, interestingly enough, is supportive of this.  Huh.

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 21

Breakfast:  Eggs, steak, fruit, freaking bran muffin
Lunch:  Lobster, cauliflower, yogurt dip
Dinner:  Cauliflower, yogurt dip

So, anyway, Saturday is coffee and breakfast with my friends.  It used to be just coffee, but we ran out of just plain coffee shops and started going to places where they serve more than muffins and bagels and stuff like that.  I think that I am quitting the group because two of them are so rude to the wait staff and all complainy and generally being pains in the ass. It is uncomfortable all of the time, and downright embarrassing some of the time.  No one will say anything to either of them, and I am no exception, mostly because I do not want anyone else to call me out on any of my crap.  One of them is late for everything.  Really, everything.  Yet, each week she complains to us and sometimes to a waiter about how long it takes for her to get her food.  This one makes me laugh...a lot...because she groused about how it took ten minutes for her to get her pot of tea, even after the waiter shared with her that it was taking a little longer to be prepared.  Yeah, she is mostly amusing; so is the other woman.  I like them so much, but really, the Universe does not revolve around any of us, particularly in a busy restaurant.  Yes?  Aw, more likely I am being too critical, to judgmental, to much of a bitch.  Either way, staying home will be better for everyone.

I guess that will eliminate the muffin issue I faced today.  The place they chose does not have any à la carte items.  You have to order a whole, pre-designed meal.  You can try to ask to not have some of the items, like fried or hashed potatoes, toast, English muffins and regular muffins, but they sometime bring them to the table anyway.  I am guessing that bringing everything eliminates any fuss from their customers about paying for a whole meal and not ordering all of it's components.  So, they give you everything and you get to decide if you want to eat it.

Yeah, great solution to bartering customers, but there is that toast or some kind of muffin sitting there, a little glossy on top, raisins poking out from the branny and delicious smelling goodness.  My goodness.  I offered the muffin to the table, but because all of them got their whole meal, there were no takers, not even to take it home for later.

I ate my eggs and the tiny, rare, tender steak.  I nibbled at the sliced and diced fruit, then ate most of it.  I drank cup after cup of coffee (easy to do as they leave pots of it at the table), hoping to fill myself up so that there would be no room for muffins.  Man.  There was room for muffins.  I ate nearly half of it.  It was wonderful, nice and crumbly because of all the bran, just enough raisins.  But, it also had sugar in it, and some regular flour to hold it all together.  No bliss there.

Even worse than eating half is that I brought the other half home and ate it mid-afternoon, although I am counting it as breakfast.

Why, after three weeks of this do I have such a ridiculously low amount of self control?  I suck.  Really.

Alrighty, then, the lobster.  I have been tossing out too much food that has gone bad waiting for me to cook it.  I could pack those things away in the freezer, but I have only a small, bottom of the fridge freezer and it is already full of food that I never cooked and have socked away in there so that I would not have to throw it in the garbage.  Now, if I would actually thaw some of that crap and cook it, there would be room for more potential garbage, but I do not thaw and cook for the very same reason that all of that stuff ended up in the freezer in the first place.

I run out of energy to do much actual cooking.  For a while, I was buying frozen meals when they were on sale and eating those.  It was great.  They start off in the freezer and they eventually get eaten and there is no waste.  But, then I decided to eat more healthy food and that is why the freezer is at full capacity.

My solution is to shop for just a couple of days at a time.  So far it is working fine.  I have thrown away only some leftovers and some greens that went all wonky.  It means more stops on the way home from work and stuff, but that is not a problem, except when my energy fails and it is too difficult to stop, shop and haul my sorry behind in and out of the store.  For those days, I have filled a small shelf with canned soup, microwave popcorn and crackers.  There is iceberg lettuce, apples and some kind of hardy vegetable in the refrigerator almost all of the time, just to give the healthy food thing some credibility.

Got all my bases covered.

The  larder here was pretty empty.  Condiments, sugar-free syrups (for making plain water more appealing), pre-cooked bacon, and some cilantro is what was in there.  So, I stopped at a market on the way home from coffee this morning.  They were having a sale on lobster.  You paid $10 for one, about a pound each I guess, they cooked it for you in these huge cauldrons in front of the store, chilled them in ice water and you were set to go.

It was really good, that poor dead creature.  It was perfectly cooked and I ate everything edible, including the coral, which I really like.  It was a late lunch, after 3:00, but so filling and satisfying, juicy and, like, perfect.  So, not hungry much at dinner, and more cauliflower and some yogurt with ranch dressing powder was fine.

I have to take one of my ss women to lunch tomorrow, but for the next few days I am all set.  I have individually portioned, frozen beef patties, a couple of smoked port chops, green beans, the rest of the cauliflower (a bit more than half), peaches for breakfast or dinner tomorrow, 2 dozen eggs (some of which I will hard cook), celery, a tomato, asparagus, lemon juice for making rosewater lemonade, plenty of yogurt, blueberries, and the iceberg lettuce.

You know, I do not want to eliminate all sweets and other pleasurable foods from what I eat.  I do not want to make this about sacrifice so severe that I am afraid to enjoy myself and what I eat.  I have several trips scheduled for next month, August and October, and I want to eat the meals they provide and not get all angsty about what I am eating or not eating.

What I am doing now has to be a way of eating that I can comfortably follow for the rest of my life.  That is supposed to be the path to healthful eating that can last a lifetime.  Anything else will not work, and I have decades of proof that drastically changing to only certain foods is an exercise in failure on a grand scale.  I have already lost enough weight to notice it.  My clothes feel slightly looser and there is a reduction in the bulge-age in a certain area.  My bra is too big and some of my big girl panties are in danger of dropping when I least expect or desire them to do so.

So, this is working, and I would like to keep it that way.  I do not want to deprive myself of yummy and delicious alternatives to the junk and carbs that have been the mainstay of my diet for so long.  I am spending more money on groceries, but the quality of food has dramatically increased.  So, it is all good.  No one knows how much longer they will live, I am no exception to that, and I would very much like to spend the remaining time that I have not being fat.  I would like that very, very much.

Maybe every incidence of slippage in the whole will-power failures has been an opportunity to examine what food means to me beyond something that keeps you alive.  Maybe I need to pay closer attention to those incidents.  Not let them discourage or define me.

There are moments when this seems too difficult.  A month ago I would have sworn that I was not a person who ate in response to emotions.  An emotional eater?  Not me.  Now I know that I eat according to how I feel, particularly when I am feeling frightened, threatened and lonely.  That is such a difficult thing to accept.  Yet, if this is going to work this time, I have to find a way to deal with this, understand and resolve it and then get rid of it, once and for all.  Oh, maybe not completely, I know myself fairly well, but I would dearly love to leave most of that baggage behind me, along with the flab.

That would be so lovely.  Finding a way to care about myself enough to make choices that are truly in my own, best self interest.  I help my clients manifest that in their lives, perhaps I can do it for myself, too.  I had no intention to get all serious about this process. I wanted it to be easier than that, more like, well, just easier.  I am avoiding the scale, which has never been my friend.  I am not measuring and weighing portions, allowing my tummy to alert me when it is full, or at least satisfied.  I am still walking without my cane.  I lost count of how many days, but is is more than a week.  I did too much last Tuesday and took it in to work with me, concerned that a twelve-hour day at two locations might prove more than my knees and hip could handle on their own.  I will admit that I am taking more pain medication, but I think that cane made it possible for me to walk with less energy and certainly much less assurance.  By the end of the day my knees are not too bad, but my hips are, only sometimes, an agony.  This, too, will pass, yes?

All of this, the entire process, just seems right.  I am not stressed about it, well, except for my problems with the damn sweets.  I always believed that I was not a fan of sweet stuff.  Given a choice, I would always choose something salty, crunchy, and if you could put sour cream on it, that was even better.  I am simply going to trust that this works out the way it is supposed to and that this weakness for sweet stuff will pass.

I have three new GPs.  This is one of them.  It is named, Karma-O-Whirl:

Dear Diary

O.K., I pulled up my big girl panties and thought that I was fine, but I am not.  More action from that friend that fucked me over last week.  I am so sad.  I feel kind of weepy, but not like actually crying.  My heart hurts too much to allow any liquid to escape.

If I could cry I might be able to get beyond this.  Maybe I am not sad enough to shed any tears.  Maybe I am not surprised enough to be as upset as I think I should be.  But, it is not as though I have so many friends to not miss having one of them.

Fine.  What am I, 12 freaking years old?  Lordy.

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 9

Breakfast:  2 corn dogs, 2 mugs of instant cocoa/no sugar
Lunch: Nothing
Dinner:  2 cans of chicken soup, 2 slices of whole wheat toast, buttered, 2 mugs of decaf green tea, 3 RS sugar-free chocolates

It was a slow day, although it began at 2:00 a.m., when I woke gagging on mucus and then kept up by hunger.  I finally gave in and had the corn dogs and cocoa because they were the most quiet and least scent-creating things to make at that hour.

Went back to bed and slept until eight, back to rest, read and mostly doze at eleven.  Finally got up at 3:00 p.m.  Ate dinner at, around 7:00 and am ready for bed again.  I was not hungry, even after not eating, but made myself heat up the soup.  Then, heat up another one and have toast with it.  On a roll for twos, I guess.  The Russel Stover chocolates were for medicinal purposes only.  Honest.  The sugar alcohols are slightly, ummm, well, they help you, well, I just have to say it, poop, and with so little fiber in my body today, my colon will thank me tomorrow, fersure.

It was nice to sleep so much today.  You just cannot discount the benefits of naps.

I am taking all of my meds.  I have stopped with the antihistamines because I think they are blocking the fluids in my middle ears from draining.  Just popped a couple of generic decongestants, and hope that works.  I really am not fond of waking up with the whole mucus gagging thing.  Enough fun already.

Off to bed.

Oh, og, oog, I called yesterday's friend.  As assertive as I was with her at lunch about making a big freaking deal about who pays, she is just the same old person today again.  We have an agreement that we each pay our own whatever, lunch, snacks, beverages, stuff.  And still she creates a little scene each time, dragging in whatever poor, hapless clerk, waiter, salesperson is stuck taking care of us.

So, yesterday I took a stand, one that I have taken twice before, but she is such a backslider about this stuff.  The stand is that if she fusses about paying for my meal, that the meal (or snack or whatever) about which she is fussing and making a scene will be the last one that we have together.  Today I had to make the same standard for telephone conversations.  Lordy.  It is too much.  My guess is that, from her relating familial things, this is the way they all do business.  Everyone having a long, torturous scene over who pays for whatever.  Same thing for where to go or what to do together.

It is too much.  I cannot have this keep happening.  I just cannot.  And, it is not because I am feeling so crappy.  Hell, even when I am well, this just wears me down all the time, all the long days that she needs for all her stuff.  I am certain that this makes me a selfish, opinionated freaked-out brat.  So be it.  Fuck.

Today's GP (You know, I think that making one of these is the highpoint of each day.  How sad is that.):

Maps

I was using Google Maps this morning to find the location and direction to a family thing being held in another state, on the weekend next.

Alongside of the directions, there was the full, continental US map image.  Except for the tolls and the likelihood of encountering road construction, it looks like a nice and easy trip.

I grabbed the little zoom bar and pulled it all the way down so that I could see the whole world.  I swear, that image never fails to thrill me right down to my core.  That teeny place marker, that infinitesimal point where I will be spending a couple of hours on the road, well, it just floors me.

A space on my screen that a gently expanded hand-width covers and I have touched the entire planet.  Rotate my hand approximately 20 degrees and I could hold it in my palm.  It makes me think of how delicate, how fragile and wondrous it is, this place we call home.

Sure, it enthuses me to take care of it.  More than that, it helps me revisit my commitment to making my part of it, that tiny bit at the point of the marker, a better place.  Small things salve my emotions, fuel my desires and make make my behaviors worth performing them.  My tininess reminds me of my connection to every other person, every other living thing.  I am humbled by the shared responsibilities and shames me for my pitiful efforts.

On that map, I am an invisible speck beneath uncounted specks. 

Oh, and I might have lost a friend today.  If it happens, it will make me sad beyond my ability to express how truly sad I will be.  Sometimes friends have to take that risk with each other.  But, I will still be sad.

Wondering

I have been home a few hours now.  Tonight was the evening version of Saturday Morning Coffee with the Chickies.  My friends.  My pilgrimage buddies and then coffee friends and then hang-on-for-dear-life friends.   We do this each year near Christmas.  It is great and some of us give presents and some of do not and no one ever seems to notice who is giving or not, much less care about it.

It is a nearly perfect of manifestation of what true giving and gifts are about.  No expectations to be dashed, no weirdness about what is received or given or anything.  It is as pure and unselfish an experience as any of us have and one would hope that all such exchanges could be.  It is a pretty fucking amazing thing.  Just amazing.  One friend gave me three...count 'em...Anna Lee mice.  Two kind of Christmasy, and one Halloween little mouse witch with a sweet, tiny broom.  Another friend gave sweet little things and a gift card for a book store.  I gave my ornaments and chocolate gelt, which I adore, not only for the chocolate, but for the whole historical aspect and have been doing so for, gosh, this old babe has been giving gelt for nearly forty years and not a single one of them spent as anything other than the pagan girl that I am, and Christian that I was.  Maybe I was a Hasmonean-wanna-be in a former life.   

Last weekend, or the weekend before that, I simply cannot keep any of this straight anymore, just four of us got together for dinner at the apartment of one of the sisters.  I met both of them, the sisters, on a pilgrimage to Ireland.  One of them, the apartment one, had been warned about me by one of the other travelers, that I was a witch.  I may very well be a witch of the rude, nasty and despicable kind, but she did not understand that the other person was telling her about my spiritual path.  She, the apartment Chickie, much later, told me that it was near the half-way point in the trip that she realized what she had been told and found, much to her surprise, by the way, that she liked me as a person.  Cool.  Groovy.

Anyway, back here in the States, she was part of the original coffee women and over the years, other people have come; some stayed, others left, not finding us to their particular liking, which is fine, truly, because that is the process by which we find the people who are essential parts of our lives.

I have become particularly close the the apartment Chickie.  I like her sister a lot, too.  In fact, we were friends first.  Anyway, the apartment Chickie does not drive, never has, does not want to, and, frankly, she is unsuited to being behind the wheel of several tons of metal and other assorted parts and bits and pieces.  We often go on to do something else with the day after the coffee group breaks up and wanders off to do whatever it is that they do.

So, anyway, at the whenever-weekend dinner, it was, hell, I will just use their initials.  Sheesh.  There we are, at M's apartment, with her sister D and her husband and our other friend S and her husband.  S's husband is recovering from a stunningly serious heart problem, which nearly took his life a couple of months ago.  He is not recovering well, but that is for later.  D is our friend who is dying of ovarian cancer.  She had had a big transfusion on that weekend and was able to stay for a nice, long time and when she left, the rest of us left, too, because it was just so sad to know that that night was likely to be the last time that we would all be together.

D and her husband did not attend this evenings lovely thing with all of us friends because she is too ill to leave her house.  Her sister, M, does not talk about D very much.  She gives the occasional update, but her heart really is not in it, you know?  I worry about both of them, but M does not talk about any of this with anyone and whilst it is her journey and I would never interfere, beyond what I have done to make sure that she knows that I am available to her 'round the clock, it is her journey and she gets to travel it in exactly the way she prefers.  I truly do my best to not worry about this, but it just does not seem like a good plan on her part.  Truly.  Sometimes it is so difficult to keep my thoughts about this to myself.  Seriously.

Anyway, it is time to write how I feel and say my goodbyes, whilst I still can.  Even if I do not make this happen in time, D already knows how much I love her and that all of us will be here for her husband.  A kind of goofy, but altogether lovely man he is, who lost both of his closest relatives in the past year, his mother and his only auntie.  He is the kind of husband that all of us would love to have.  Interesting in a not too painful way, a person with wide and varied interests, and, most importantly, a man who pulled up his big boy panties and was there for his wife in every single way that truly matters.  

And, then we have S's husband (the one with the miserable heart issues), who is not behaving well.  He has always been a joking and intellectually lively person, but two weeks ago found him taking a serious fall in his driveway, from which he is still sporting a black eye.  Tonight it was the worse that I have seen.  He kept repeating himself, over and over and some of it was inappropriate for general conversation and we all tried to make light of it, but it was so disturbing.  S talked about it when he left the room, and one of us is a nurse, the big-hot-shot kind and the two of them discussed what S needs to discuss at this week's visit with her husband's neurologist and cardiologist.

Things here, at the old homestead, are going from bad to more bad and I simply cannot muster any energy to deal with any of it because, in the scheme of things, like in life in general and the issues with which the people around me are struggling, my crap barely registers on any level of importance that anyone could devise.  My stuff is lacking in significance in the face of everything else and I am not able to cope with any of it.

There is great suffering in my town, many people who do not have the means to take care of the basics, much less anything extra.  I see them in my work and whilst I am working my ass off to help where I can and to find additional resources and connect people with them, it is just endless and I wonder how much good I am doing or if it is possible to do good at all.

I still cannot be holiday anything, and this evening's thing is the exception (the one and only, single thing I have done for months), because to not go and do and eat and share would have brought too much attention to myself, the feeling and being apart from everything that everyone else holds dear right now.  Pretending that I am cheerful and happy to be around people is so exhausting.  I am doing lots of volunteering, zoning in on something besides myself and it does fill the time.  I guess that it does do some good in town and I am, gosh, just so grateful that I have the resources to help, but I need this fallow time, some time to try to heal and maybe come back to who I was or who I want to be, yeah, who I want to be.  I am not empty, in any sense, but I am weary and exhausted to the bones, the ones that bedevil me and for which there is not adequate pain relief.

I cannot be the only person who feels adrift in all of this holiday stuff.  It is difficult to hold my tongue when I hear or read about how someone is stressed about not giving the exactly perfect gift or receiving some longed-for ideal present.  Or is distressed because other people do not have the same beliefs about how they feel holidays should be celebrated.  I weary of listening to the sadness someone feels because not everyone else, Christians or not, prefer to wish one another a happy holiday instead of merry Christmas.  I mean, seriously, Christmas is ruined because everyone else is not Christian or refuses to lock-step with their personal beliefs?  And, I just keep struggling with my own judgments about how others judge all those other people.  It is a vicious and pointless exercise and I just feel nauseated about it.  I do not want to be perfect or any such damn thing, but I would so love to not give a crap about how miserably some people are treated or judged.  Just pointless.

Frankly, if I hear or read about one more person bemoaning the commercialization or the Americanization or the Disney-izaion of the holiday I am going to scream or hurt myself.  I swear.  I really do.  If you are doing exactly what you want to do in your life, whether or not is it a holiday, then why do you give a rat's ass about what someone, anyone, else is doing?  If you have that much time in your life, to waste it worrying and fretting and judging other people, there is a possibility that you are not actively doing enough for other people or your neighborhood or your community or working to make your little part of the world a better place for everyone, every group, every creature, every issue.

I think that I must no longer be fit for being around other people.  If I start talking about any of this with other people, it might not even be a personal choice, as those other people might be very happy to kick my sorry ass right out of polite society, which, in itself, is kind of an oxymoron these days.  Crap, there I go judging again.  I am hopeless and best find a cave in which to live.  Posthaste. I am not fit company.

O.K., I thought that I was finished, but I am not.  One thoughtful, tender and well-intentioned thought stream.

Do your own thing.  I will do my own thing.  Leave my thing alone and I will offer and extend the same courtesy to you.  If you do not like my thing, please keep your opinions (to which you are entirely entitled to hold) to yourself.  Please, I am begging you, do not concern yourself or fuss about how I shop, what is in my grocery basket or shopping cart, how, or if, I cook, how many convenience products I use, what cleaning products I use, how I do the laundry, what I drive or do not drive, how I dress, whether or not I make all my own personal crap, how I garden or do not garden, how I educate my children, where I work or how I spend my money.  Please do not worry your pretty, little head about what I read, where I go, how I vacation, how organic my food supply or lifestyle is,  where I live or how many utilities and services I use, what my belief system or spiritual path might be, or how I manifest, or do not, what those beliefs may be.  If I have forgotten anything, please add it to the list of things about me which should not have to bother you.

I will do exactly those things, and more, for you. 

Oh, one more thing.  I have, for as long as I can remember, said Happy Holidays instead of Merry Christmas.  I did this even when I was a serious and dedicated and faithful Christian, because I always recognized that my religion, spiritual practice and faith community was not the only one in the world, and because I did not want to marginalize anyone with whom I came into contact should they have beliefs different from my own.   It always seemed like, plain, simple and ordinary courtesy.  Just saying. 

Besides, the winter holiday season is chock-full of some of the most interesting practices, both spiritual and secular.  Many of them are fun, but all of them are informative to anyone who desires to be a well-rounded, educated and interesting person.  Open your heart and be a part of some of them. 

The more you learn about other people, how they live, what they practice, the less fearful you will be about those who seem to be different than you.  Educate yourself, inform yourself, move beyond only what you have been taught or experienced.  Yeah, just open your heart...if you are brave enough.  Courage, baby.

Simple thoughts

Today was too busy and too full of complicated issues for a simpleton like me.

I had a despair hangover from last evening at the gallery.  Just because you are creative, and we invite you to exhibit with us, well, that does not give you free rein to be a cranky bitch.  But, you cannot tell someone where they can put their artistic temperament and still run a business that deals exclusively with artsy fartsy types.

I went to a craft fair after this morning's coffee get-together.  It is probably the last nice one before the holidays and whilst I rarely buy anything, preferring to make my own crap, they are great fun.  Seeing how other people, especially old babes like me, manifest their creativity is a glorious and wondrous experience.  I simply cannot get enough of it.  One of my never-to-be-manifested-dreams is to provide a safe and supportive place for all of these women to sell their stuff all year round.  The talent out there is stunning, and they are some of the nicest people on the whole damn planet.  Blessings to them all.

Because my sweet and wonderful daughter and her equally adorable husband left within ten minutes of my arrival at her house today, and then I left a mere five minutes after they arrived back home, there were no adults there to witness and then complain because I do not do everything exactly like the resident adults do things.  It is the first visit in a long time where I did not get in trouble for not being a clone, which probably would not have the capability of doing everything exactly like, well...oh, never mind.

The day ended with a small dinner of four of us coffee chickies and two husbands.  One of us is fully into her third year of treatment for cancer.  She is receiving some kind of hospice care and doing quite well.  Tonight she did exceptionally well because she had a big blood transfusion this afternoon.  Even so, she pooped out shortly after dinner and had to go home. 

But, it was so wonderful seeing her out and about and eating well and having a good time.  She even had a nice bowl of ice cream for dessert.  It is all so bittersweet.  I love seeing her, but it is such a struggle to avoid talking about her health, as she chooses to not have it be a part of our conversations or time together.  Her journey, her choices, her rules.  It is enough.

No one believes that I am really taking a break from life for a while.  You know, I am sorry that this retirement from just about everything is taking place during these fall and winter holidays, but this is the appropriate time to do this.  It feels very surreal.  Everyone thinks that I will be attending all of the parties, open-houses and actual holidays.  Even my lovely daughter's lovely husband asked me this afternoon when we would be getting together for Yule.  My simple reply was that I am taking a break from holidays for a while.  Whilst no one wants to actually discuss this with me, they keep believing that I am kidding or something.  

This is not an avoidance or some kind of rebellion or taking a stand or anything like that.  It is simply me taking a break in order to avoid completely breaking.

Nothing is simple.  What a shame.