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 50

Breakfast:  Nothing
Lunch:  Nothing
Dinner:  Nothing, yet

So, anyway, Dear Diary, I have been feeling so good about just everything.  A life is not static.  Stuff happens.  Uncertainty is the one thing of which you can be certain, especially if you are going to do more than stay home in your little cave and not be involved in anything.  Oh, lordy, does stuff happen.  You know, I would not have it any other way.  Really.

A lot of days without serious problems, except for the usual ones around here.  I went to the fruit festival yesterday and it was great and then today happened.  It is not worth writing about here, but it was pretty terrible and it was made clear that it was, not exactly punishment for having a life, but sort of like the consequences of doing things that someone does not want me to do.  I kind of crumbled into pieces earlier, but am better now. 

I was trying so hard to make this work here and praying about it and asking for some way to resolves some of the stuff.  Well, you often get exactly what you ask for and that manifested early this morning.  It is just that I was unprepared for how it happened, as in caught completely off-guard.  You know, just when you think that being a good person, doing all of the right things for the right reasons, that all of that love and support will come back to you in some measure, it does not.  Well, that is the way it goes.  I should not ever be surprised, but I am.  Over and over. 

Once I recovered from the shock, I was fine.  I will be better, but, gosh, I do not think that I will ever get used to this and that I will always be stunned when it happens again.  The deliberate cruelty is, what, a new heartbreak every single time.  I have had hours to think about this and, whilst I am sort of, kind of all right with being a person who can still have the whole breaking of the heart thing, it would be fine with me if it never happened again.

I will be gone for three days this week, which will only make things worse, big-picture-wise, but it is too late to do anything about that.  I am going to think of it as the calm before the storm and enjoy as much of it as I can.  I need the time away to make some plans, figure out what to do, stay sane.  You know, like that.

It is interesting, though, that I am sort of, kind of back to feeling good.  The bad stuff is really only beginning, but I was, am, able to bounce back even though this sadness will be with me for a while I am guessing.  At some point, I am just going to have to accept that maybe what the heart wants is not what is best.  I am resisting that.  I have to, if only to know for certain that I did everything possible to make this work.  It is all so sad. 

But, I am strong, and strong in a way that I have not been for a long time.  Maybe I never had this kind of strength before.  It feels new, so perhaps that is true.  Anyway, nothing here is going to destroy me, not the stuff that happens, not the made-up stories, not the misunderstanding from others, none of it.  I have this crazy feeling that I do not have any responsibility to defend myself against any of the stories and the consequences of stories being told.  I know, Diary, that I am being obtuse, but I am doing that a lot lately.  Even writing this to myself in this manner seems like a defense, but I am hoping that it is not.  If I cannot be seen for who I am, then, well, so be it.  Hell, I do that for other people, they can do it for me, dammit!

Anyway, I am still not hungry, but might have some ice cream and go to bed early.  I have some serious divesting to do tomorrow.

And, bloody hell, I still feel good.  Man.

As for GP, the hearts are feeling as though they are part of the sadness, so I am off to make something more cheerful.  Be right back.
Alrighty, here goes.

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 47

Breakfast:  Eggs
Lunch:  Japanese, very late, mid-afternoon
Dinner:  Diet Rite, cheese popcorn, orange sherbet

It seems that I have given up, yes?  I feel like I am still invested in this process, but the facts, and my ginormous butt, bear false witness to that.  Still, I begin every day with a joyful spirit and enthusiasm to eat well, get some extra walking in there someplace and prove to myself that I am capable of making and keeping a commitment.  Ending each day is much the same, enthusiasm-wise, but with the bitter knowledge of how I end up laughing in the face of my determination.  Hah!  Take that, Resolve!  Ho, there, Steadfastness, where do you think you are going?  Whoa, Tenacity, stop dilly-dallying and get everyone back on track.  Why do you think we made you the leader, just so that you could sit there, stick there and wave a pom-pon once in a while?

There are too many players in this whole thing...no wonder I cannot get it all together. 

I should be really upset about my lack of doggedness, but I am not.  I have had one kick-ass week and I am still feeling great.  I think that there is a new bone-on-bone place  rubbing away in my right hip, the nerve pain has amped up a bit on my face, and someone who is not me found a new way to manifest his inner, mean, (expletive-laced) bastard, but none of this seems to make any difference.  Not even the crazier than usual local folk who come to chat with me at work, and most especially the guy who came in to interview me as a potential employee of his to help him with his attempts to avoid being shut-down by the government because they do not want him to get the patents and produce the things he has invented that will save the world. It was a very interesting hour with him, I have not committed to being hired by him, declined his invitation to exchange telephone numbers and addresses and will not be going to his house to help de-bug it from the eavesdropping equipment the secret operatives have installed there, even though they taunt him by calling him on the telephone and telling him to put down his book and leave the house.

Truth be told, I think that the crazier than usual folk are my favorite kind of people.  They have found me at work and at the gallery.  It is never an inconvenience to have them stop by and chat away like they are making any kind of sense to be, because the whole world is not making any sense and it is my guess that those guys have a head start on the rest of us.  You know that saying about how just because you are paranoid, it does not mean that they are not out to get you.  Yep.

I am not a fan of Karen Kingsbury, but I accidentally watched a film made from one of her books this evening, and I like it.  A lot.  Like, really a lot.  I wonder if I am bi-polar and in the manic phase.  Really, that would explain so much. 

Whatever the cause of my decent moods, bless it.  And, even though it was not the best kind of choice to make for dinner, I am please by having eaten only orange food.  The only thing that would have made it complete would have been an orange soda, but the diet ones taste kind of icky and the regular kind tastes kind of not so great for my blood sugar.

Whatever is going on here, it is chasing the complaining right out of me, which is always a good thing.  And, I have a new Richard Laymon book to shiver my timbers tonight.  I hope that there is lots of gore in my immediate future.  So, on to the GP.

More hearts, I think.

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 44

Breakfast:  Lean Cuisine dinner, pecan chicken something, I think
Lunch:  3 natural hot dogs, mustard, canned beets
Dinner:  Cashews, 2 crackers with peanut butter on them

I spent today using as few calories as possible.  Both of my legs hurt from all of the walking this weekend.  Swollen and sore, joints and muscles.  So, it seemed to be a good idea to not eat very much.  I am not counting calories, but I have done so for most of my adult life, and I estimate that there were somewhere around 900 of them in today's foods.  That seems close enough.  I could check, but then I would have to use some of those calories to haul myself out of this chair and go look.  Rats.  I just checked and it was 1150 calories.  Too many to even think about having lost any tonnage.  Even though that, the weight, is not supposed to be my focus, it is disheartening to find that today was most likely, at best (a hopeful best), a draw in the in and out department.  F.  (I am trying to not curse.)

Tomorrow is not going to help any.  It is a day of volunteering for the big city near me.  It is part of their summer employment training program for young people.  We did all of the interviewing weeks ago and their training began today with a week's worth of orientation.  I have not any idea what they did today, but tomorrow is like a job fair, if you know what is.  Each of the tables/stations will not be hosted by potential employers, but with information and help related to finances, how to choose a job category (like that is even possible these days, but bless their hearts for building the concept into the program), and all of the expenses that are part of living.  Housing, health care/insurance, vehicles, clothing, household expenses, families, pets, the whole works.  They will have to set up an actual savings and checking accounts with representatives of a local credit union (like a bank), do the paperwork for a 401k account and a lot more.  It should be interesting, especially since they did not notify the volunteers that they were chosen to participate (that would be me and other hapless souls), and aside from arriving a half hour before the participants, there does not seem to be any training that I can tell. 

They are going to give us a light breakfast, whatever the hell that means.  My guess is that it will be coffee and donuts.  My guess is that I will try to get up extra early and make some eggs, or that I will dilly-dally and have to drive-through for some more of those yummy breakfast sandwiches and a big, steaming cup of fairly decent coffee.  Honestly, tomorrow is laundry day, so it is more important to get a load running before I leave home.  There is a lunch offering, but I am guessing that it is more of the same sub sandwiches, chips, cookies, canned soft drinks and other snack things.  So, I will probably be skipping that as well and getting one of those great salads from Wendy's.  I hate to miss that part, though, because sitting around with the other volunteers is a great resource opportunity for me.  Those people are all professionals and I have much to learn from them that could help me with my clients. 

It really is a surreal experience.  There they all are, HR people, executives, radio personalities, and then there is me.  The same thing used to happen to me when I was part of the RIF (Reading is Fundamental) program in the elementary schools in another big city near me.  Doctors, lawyers, police officers, bank officials, veterinarians, businessmen of all kinds.  Then, me.  I am hoping it means that they keep asking me to do these things because they believe that I have something to offer, but it is very humbling to be in the company of such important people.

I should have enough time to come home, toss in more laundry, maybe heat up another of those frozen diet meals and get going to pick up one of my women, who has a doctor's appointment in the afternoon.  Then home again, to shower, wash hair and do one last load of linens, since I am nearly out of clean towels.

On a more personal note, something sad happened today.  The woman who owns the gallery has been expecting some important mail and was not certain if it would come to her place here or the one in another state, which is where she is now.  Something did come last week, and I called her to let her know that it was there and had to leave a message on her voice mail. 

I hate voice mail.  You never know if someone is going to check or if it actually will be there when they do check or some damn thing.  I do not have it, so I always figure that no news is good news, which in my life is pretty much the case.  But, she does have it and she was concerned and I called and left a message.  She did not call back, even though I left my phone on until after midnight.  She knew that I was out of town, but did not call in to ask for more information, which, frankly, I would not have had because I did not open the mail.

This afternoon I heard my phone beeping and when I checked, there were two messages.  Apparently, my friend was not able to reach anyone who could check on the darn mail (there are four of us) and was frantic worrying about what it was.  So, being the good boyfriend that he is, her boyfriend (I digress, but I love that us older babes can still have boyfriends and actually call them that.) called my cell phone and left a stunning message about how upset she was and then made a couple of mild threats.  Yeah, stunning.  I was guessing that the second message was also from him, adding the few things he might have missed saying in the first message, but it was from my friend, who assured me that I had done the right thing and not to worry.  This was later followed by another call from her, where she raged about all kinds of things and the bottom line is that I was the recipient of a whole bunch of frustration about a whole bunch of things. 

I think I have to be finished there, at the gallery.  I am not looking forward to seeing her boyfriend again, although I will miss seeing her.  I have Thursday off and think that I might take the morning to gather my work and leave my keys there.  She is in another state and I am the only person who keeps the gallery open during the week, so I will not risk running into anyone.  This is all too complicated and today was kind of scary.  No, it was a lot scary and I have enough to deal with in my own life, without taking on the pathology of another relationship. 

I am really going to miss going there.  I like welcoming people and talking about the art there and just art in general.  I like having my stuff there and having people like it and sometimes buy some of it.  Yeah, that extra money is nice.  It paid for most of my traveling.  I will miss the other artists and the, gosh, so wonderful discussions we have, and the musicians that drop by to play and I will even miss the street people who stop in to chat a while.  I am going to miss all of it so much.  Even on slow days, there is hardly a more lovely place to sit and knit or read or just sit.  I can still do art stuff, and I still exhibit other places, but this place, this gallery, was special.  It still is special, it is just that I will no longer be a part of it.

Well, you cannot have everything, but it was a little piece of heaven in contrast to much of the rest of my life.  Everything comes to an end of some sort and I have to allow myself to experience this break and be patient for the next thing that might come along.  You know, if I were still busy with the gallery, I might miss that next thing or things.  So, in the end, big picture and all, it is a good thing.  Sad, but ultimately good.  I hope.

So, aside from the food issue, not a bad day.  Well, I guess it sort of was, but I am not going to dwell on it.

What's left?  Ah, GP.  I have a bunch of hearts in the guilty pleasure realm and after the happenings of the past couple of weeks, I need all the hearts I can get, so that is what it will be for the next week or so.  Hearts.  Some of them are on the dark side, but I guess that is appropriate, as well.

What the hell happened to being all light and happy about this?  You know, my intent was to stop complaining all the damn time, but I seem to be stuck on the pain and not able to concentrate on the gain, gaining of better health and a more healthy attitude and outlook.  That is/was my goal, if I actually had goals, I mean.  I kind of suck, yes?  Yes, I do.  I am sorry, I do not mean to be so sucky.

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 8

Thud.

That was me falling off the health wagon.  I made a nice splat.

Interjecting here to say that I just read this and whilst it might not seem to be strictly about food and all that, it really is about the process of becoming not only healthier, but closer to the person that I want to be, which can only be a good thing.  If I do not change some of the other stuff in my life, then just eating well, exercising (yes, I intend to do more than think about that...eventually) is not going to mean anything.  Have to work on being healthier in body, heart, soul, spirit and in relationship all at the same time.

Breakfast:  Nothing
Lunch:  Salad, lemon wedges for dressing; scallops, broiled, 6; baked potato, butter & sour cream, ate half; fresh roll, ate half, with butter; grilled vegetables, ate all; 6 oz. glass of wine, yep, all of it, approx. 1 cup creamed rice and chicken soup, sigh, all of it, with lemon.
Dinner:  2 ears of corn, butter, salt

In my defense, if you spread out everything that I ate for lunch over the entire 24 hours of today, it does not seem so bad.

This friend is the one from yesterday.  Last evening's phone conversation went well and then today's conversations went all to hell.  It is like a toddler testing you.  She gets all agree-y and then goes back full force and then some.

So, anyway.  I pick her up and she immediately begins with the weird stories, which I love by the way.  She either has known everyone on the North American continent, or reads enough of the tabloids to know just enough about everyone famous or infamous to weave stories about them.  I quail to know what she would know if she had computer access.  Past chats have included surprisingly intimate details about the Macy dynasty (or any other large, industrial or business enterprise) and all of their paramours and extended families, the movers and shakers on the entire Eastern seaboard and most of the players  cooks  chefs  celebrities on the Food Network, including the one who lives just down the street from one of her sons in the Hamptons and who was rude and selfish as a pig about helping out a Make-A-Wish sick kid.  Hmmm, I always thought that pigs were extremely generous, especially when it comes to their bacon.  Yeah, but what do I know.

Oh, and there are those stories that she keeps telling me about some diet doctor who was killed by his mistress, who was sent to jail and my friend just happened to be her cell-mate.  All right, I am making up the part about the cell-mate, but the story is very long and detailed about all kinds of other stuff about those people, whoever the heck they are.

It just occurs to me that she does not seem to know anyone or about anyone west of the Mississippi.  Ooooh, that was fun to type!

Anyway.

Big Picture-wise, none of this matters.  Really.  Except that she keeps asking for my opinion about what one of these famous people did and when I eventually am forced to reply, she brings in some other information that nullifies my opinion, you know, like it really matters anyway, but it is tiring to constantly be told that I am wrong about everything.

So, I keep asking myself why I spend time with her and it is because I like her and most of the time her stories, true or not, are amusing, but only if I manage to avoid replying.  So, for the past month or so, whenever she mentions anyone or anything I just say that I know nothing about who or what that person or thing is.  She then throws up her hands, literally, and says something like, "Oh, why am I asking you, why would I think that you would know anything."  I just smile and offer her a french fry.  It is mostly working.

Except for today.  Today she would not be denied.  I kept smililng and she kept insisting and I had trouble not letting any giggles leak out.  But, by the time our waitress finally came over, I was worn down sufficiently so that I ordered a meal like the ones I used to order before I decided to get healthyier.  Alrighty, let me be honest and rephrase that...before I decided to get healthy.  Yes, it is true.  I have no backbone or will power.

This is a small family restaurant, where you can order just about anything, but they have these meal things that include appetizer (like salad or soup course), entree, sides, wonderful homemade breads, dessert and wine.  I ordered.  Whilst I always refuse the alcohol, I asked for a glass of red today.  My friend asked me if I would drink her wine, I said "no."  She asked if I would eat her soup, I said "no."  She asked if I would eat her dessert.  I said, "No."  So, she ordered soup, wine and dessert right away, and then told the waitress all of the other things that she did not want, finally ordering the lamb.

I ordered my favorite.  I got the most wonderful scallops, perfectly broiled, which she criticized because they were not brown enough on one side, her lamb because it was too salty, her soup because she forgot between the time she ordered and when it was brought to the table that it was a cream soup and it was too salty, and on and on.  I called the waitress over, asked her to bring a bowl of the other soup for my friend and to put it on my bill.  It is a tiny place, with excellent accoustics and she patted me on the shoulder before she dashed off to bring the other soup.

The entire meal was complaints and stories and more complaints.  I ate every morsel of my meal, which was very healthy, by the way, but should really be a meal and some taken home for a light dinner or breakfast.  I did not lick the plates, but I did think about it.  I drank my entire glass of wine.  I ate nearly an entire roll.  I ate the scorned cream soup, which was amazing, especially when drizzled with the fresh lemon our sweet waitress brough for me when she saw me eating it.  I ate nearly half of my baked potato.  It had butter and sour cream on it; not a lot, but it should have had none.  I ate my entire salad, very healthy, lemon instead of salad dressing.  I did leave something, though, a 75% tip.  Well, she earned it.

However, since I have been eating so reasonably this past week, it was way to much, which I would have realized had I been eating more slowly, you know, like a normal person.

I was exhausted.  Can you deplete your adrenals in an hour?  Even if you cannot, I think that I did.  At least I declined dessert, although I am kind of wanting it right now.  Alas.

I also had an upset stomach from eating all of that stuff and barely made it to the restroom, where I left most of it behind.  Literally and metaphorically.  Was not so funny then, but it makes me laugh now.  

My friend wanted to go to the mall.  I declined, but had earlier agreed to take her grocery shopping and we did that.  An hour and a half later, we loaded the car and started for home.  She wanted to go out for coffee, which she kept talking about all day, saying that she could not have any because her doctor put her on a special diet.  I declined, reminding her that we both had fresh meat that needed to be refrigerated soon enough.  The ride to her house was punctuated by her thoughts that it really was not that warm out and that raw meat could be left out for hours without danger.  I kept driving.

Today's lessons are many.

Do not think that you have learned or relearned something about how you want to be in relationship with someone, because you might be closer, but you are not fully there and the Universe will bring you back to that lesson as many times as is needed.

It is in your best interest to not use food to self-medicate unpleasant feelings or uncomfortable interpersonal issues away.  If you do, you have to buy a bottle of Imodium and take some right away so that you can finish shopping for groceries.

If you are already feeling like crap, allowing yourself to get all tense about anything is not going to help you feel better. Even when you try to make it appear that you are playing 'nice', if you really do not have your heart in it, the other person might never notice or know, but you will and you will feel guilty and ashamed for not being your best self.  Although, acting all nice and everything is certainly preferable to acting as bitchy as you feel.  Truth be told, acting like a nice person is never a wasted effort.



Sometimes you just have to accept someone for who they are and get over yourself.  And, that means accepting the other person.  You can accept yourself for who you are, but that sounds like a very bad habit in which to indulge; it is much better to try to be a better person.

I cannot tell if I feel better, infection-wise, or not.  I guess that is a good thing, though.

And, speaking of guilt, another pleasure for the day:

Simple thoughts

Did you hear the one about the old babe who had a PVD/Posterior Vitreous Detachment and then had a second one four days later?  Well, it seems that having that little heart thing a month ago, plus the joint pain, plus the nerve damage, and the high blood pressure was not enough to help her see (pun coming) that she needed to regain her healthy body and the general health that comes with it.

She needed to be faced with the risk of having the remains of her sight lost due to the little bleed-outs in her retinas and the detachments and the flashers before she was able to take all of this crap seriously.  Lordy.

The simple things in a life are what seem to matter the most.  Forgetting that is just a darn shame.  Big problems are reduced when a client keeps thanking you over and over and keeps asking to shake your hand just because of that little thing you did for them.

When the next client does a little of the same and tells you that you are a nice person and that you are the first person with whom he has felt comfortable in a very long time, well, that is the icing on that cookie and that cookie is one that you can safely enjoy without further assault to your vision.

It is a lovely thing when the person who felt most threatened by your volunteering has become one of your most ardent supporters, which is important in an increasingly uncertain, local government, economic environment.

That he has a larger pole up his ass than you do is an opportunity to mind your own hubris before it can come back and bite you in the ass.  Frankly, it is a blessing, and you get to be grateful not only for his transformation, but for the gentle reflection he offers to your own attitudes and behaviors.

So, anyway, there is this guy who comes into the library on a fairly regular basis.  I do not know who he is, but I see him there all the time.

Today he has a new haircut.  I see him walking towards me and I think, "Man, that is so cool...he is manifesting his inner Beatle."  The mop-top bowl cut is actually quite cute on him.

Then, we pass and I turn to look at the back of the new haircut and I think, "Man, do you not have any friends who are good enough friends to share with you that, from behind, your head looks like a furry penis?"

It is very sad, very, very sad, when a local organization, one dedicated to the needs of veterans, accepts the help of a good person in utilizing a significant part of their facility to bring in much needed funds, and then after learning from him, decide to eliminate him from the program he designed, built and successfully ran.

It would be fine if the reason for dumping the good person was other than intentionally using him to develop the program so that they could take over and run it themselves.  Had they been upfront about their plans, no one would have been surprised or hurt in the transition.  But, seriously, to use someone like that is just plain shameful.

I am dedicated to that organization and when I heard what had happened I went to the source, where the suspicions of the dumped, good person were confirmed.  Bad enough to do that, but how much worse to be so blasé, so matter-of-fact and unashamed about it.  I could not be more shocked if it had happened to me.  I am hoping that writing it down will help me to process what seems like a complete betrayal of principles, beliefs and honor.   I am stunned and see no future time when this is not going to bother me.  I have also severed my connection to them, which makes me more sad that I can even think about.

I want to be light-hearted about this, you know, how breaking up is so hard to do (feel free to sing along), but I thought that I could do my little, peripheral stuff there and it could be a sort of connection to my brother, and there just is not any reasonably light aspect that I can find, which is another disappointment for a positive view girl like me.  Heartbroken and a little scared that such a thing could happen.

I get to play with the babies and their mommy tomorrow.  She, the mommy, was ill last week and I could give her only one day.  Maybe she will feel well enough to play outside with us.  More likely, she will use the time to catch up on all the stuff that was put aside so that she and her babies could play outside every day.

She is a lovely mom and I adore her.  I think that we will surprise her with home-made pizza for lunch.  One of her favorites.

I am a big girl.  I can pull up my big girl panties and get on with whatever needs getting on.  Still, today's disappointment and subsequent split with one of my favorite organizations is so sad.  People get to be human.  I get to let them do that.  I get to accept people for who they are, because, you know, we are all simply doing the best that we can, here on this pretty, little planet.  I get all that.  But, if I really do, then why does my heart ache so much about something that did not directly happen to me?

I have to release this.  Holding on to it serves no one.  Besides, it feels as though I am giving some of my power away to them, and they do not deserve to have anything from me.  This totally and completely sucks.

Simple thoughts

McDonald's will not serve you water.  They have water, they just will not let you have any.

The robins thought it was safe enough to come back north.  I am guessing that the past 2 1/2 days of snow and freezing temperatures were not on this year's schedule.  I know that it was not on the rhubarb's schedule.

Yesterday was A's birthday.  His friend, M, from school, was cute, funny and a handful.  His parents are sure to age prematurely.  I hope they have factored that into their life plan.  I really do.  My C was a handful and I never thought to plan ahead.

I am weary of sitting here at McDonald's, and my soon to be accomplished return to the car repair place seem to be almost more than I can handle.  Last night, when my sore throat, sore glands, sore sinuses and sore head were making sleep impossible, I begged to not be sick again.  Please, I implore you, body, do not be sick.  I do not have time to be sick.  More importantly, I do not have the heart to keep getting sick.  I accept a crappy immune system and seriously impaired mucus membranes.  I do.

Last night, the prospect of being ill again, so soon, only since the end of January, for cryingoutloud, was discouraging enough to have me thinking about an overdose of something.  That I do not have anything capable of producing an overdose seemed to not be an obstacle last night.  Today, the daylight, gloomy as it is, allows me to see the flaws in that plan.

I mean, you can no longer overdose on acetaminophen any more.  At best, you will just lose a leg and the final shreds of respect that your family holds for you.  If you have any doubts, just ask S.

When you are visiting your daughter and her family for three months, just following Christmas, it is not in your best interest to precede your departure to her house with a week's worth of fighting. 

If you do, on the two days when you have your catarracts removed, your daughter will refuse to hire someone to come in and be with you whilst everyone else in the household is at work or school, and she will leave you to spend the remainder of each surgery day in a restaurant.

You will have money for lunch and coffee and, maybe, cake, but you will not be able to see well enough to find your way to the restroom.  You and your ancient bladder will have to rely on the kindness of strangers to help you pee.  This one is not about me.

It is important, if not actually essential, to avoid laughing out loud when two men in very expensive suits walk into the McDonald's (where you are waiting whilst your car is being repaired next door) and one of them asks the counter clerk, "So, what's good today?" and then stands there and stares at her until she begins to recite the menu, which is posted on the wall behind her.

Especially when that man orders for the other man, and they end up with fries, one Big Mac (which they split), two soft drinks and a dipped cone.  Lordy.

Especially when he turns and you see that it is your old boss.  I mean, you heard his voice every day, for years.  Failing to recognize him sooner must be your heart, trying to protect your psyche from those memories.

This simple girl is taking her prescription cough medicine, her antihistamines, her nose goo, her pain meds, her mentholated chest rub, her snugly blankie, her book, a couple of cats, her simple thoughts and going to bed.

I am practically atingle with happiness

Whilst I still have a load or two of laundry to do, no one has hassled me or given me grief or yelled at me about using the machines today.

If this is not pure, unadulterated bliss, well, I do not know what is.  Were I able to move with comfort, I would be happy-dancing all over the place, but really quiet, like a mouse.  Wee, tiny, little happy-dancing mice.  I would dance with them.  My peeps.

Ah, whatever happens for the other half of this day, I can survive it relatively unscathed because this early part is worth appreciating, seeking out and bringing on the dancing and very blissful little guys with the naked tails. 

To leap, to soar, without a care
Is a blessing of the rarest kind.
Through the air and in my soul,
One to be held in heart and mind

For times less peaceful,
Times less calm and quiet and gay,
When struggles are met
With the strength gathered today

It is life's dance, at least mine
To experience as best I am able.
And gather the soft remembrances
For future times unstable.

Dance, baby, whilst you can.

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.

Babbling

So, anyway, it has been an interesting day here at work.  I am leaving in a few minutes and am not sure what I think about this job or myself, for that matter.

The day began with an unexpected and tricky legal issue.  It involves state government, so no problem with accepting that it was over my head and experience.  However, with a half-dozen telephone calls and meeting some truly kick-ass civil servants along the way, we ended up with personal legal attention for my client.  I love happy endings.

Two no-shows and two walk-ins, back in business, both with very challenging issues.  Cool.

Then, my final client of the day came in.  I was out and waiting for her and I knew, as soon as I saw her looking at me, seeing me, that she was hugely disappointed.  Here I am, the person that her human resources consulting firm mother said that she has to see and all she gets is me.  Old, fat, dumpy, felt valentine (the ones in Joybelle's link, yeah, they are still uber cool and groovy) in my hair (which refused to stay up and out of the way today), walking, barely, with my cane and then we go into one of the study rooms, not even an actual, official office.  Ummm, I know that was what she was expecting because she mentioned it.

Man.

We  did some work, and we made changes that pleased her, but her heart was not in it.  This sort of thing should not bother me.  I know that I do excellent work here.  I know that other community programs are being modeled on what I do and how I do it.  I receive lots of feedback from my clients and the director here. 

I think that what bothers me, and yes, I can intellectualize the crap out of this, is that she could not get past my appearance.  You know, I do not make children run, weeping in fear and my friends think that I am great.  I have lived long enough to get over myself and accept how I look, my body type, my features, my disabilities, everything. 

But, the way I am feeling right now, gosh.  I know that I am being superficial.  Stupid.  Vain.  I have known all of my life that I am not a beauty, not attractive.  So, I am always clean and shiny.  Well-groomed.  I try to have nice posture and walk with as much confidence as it is possible to do with a cane or two. 

Well, I will get over this.  Scarlet and I will have a better day tomorrow.  I cannot please everyone, particularly for those aspects of myself over which I have absolutely no control.  I guess there are some days when you just feel like your existence is a waste of planetary resources.  I think the worst part is actually caring what someone else thinks about how I look.  I think, hell, I do not know what I think.

Babe Time

Gallery sat today.  Took along my ornaments for this swap thing, for something else and for one other thing.  If I find some time and energy, I will make some for my friends, too, but that has little chance of happening.

So, anyway, only one person actually came into the gallery today and it was a friend.  Several town people walked by and waved, but kept on going.

I got lots of hand sewing done in those six hours.  Sweet and icy nice.

On the way home I decided that I simply could not eat curry one more day.  I cannot remember exactly when I made it, but it was at least six lunches and dinners ago.  It is yummy, but I knew that the last three portions were going into the freezer.  So, that means stopping at the market for food and, gosh, I did hardly anything physical today and was just plain exhausted.

The way home, just a few miles before I leave town, passes a Chinese restaurant that I especially like.  Forty minutes later I was on my way again, with enough food for taking me right through to Monday dinner.  Yum.

Whilst waiting for my food, there was a steady stream of people coming in and going out, as well as the delivery driver.  Someday I will write about that very weird, although probably just as interesting as it is weird, situation.    Really, just plain weird.

A woman came in, and it was clear that this was an unexpected stop for her as well, because she had to pick up a menu in order to order her take-out stuff.  In the middle of ordering her order, she forgot what her husband told her to get for him and was going to leave to get her telephone from the car to ask him.

I offered her my phone and she took it, asking a couple of times if it was really fine with me.  I told her that as long as she was not calling Tunisia, that we would be fine.  Really.

When she finished her call and the order, she sat down across from me and we talked.

Now, I have to share that I love talking.  Hell, I will talk to just about anyone, despite being a painfully shy person.  There is something about people, in person, that makes me able to have conversations with strangers, which I guess are always people, except when it is a stray cat or crows or something, so I wonder what it is that allows me to do this random, easy talking to people that I do not know, but keeps me from going to to-dos at the homes of friends just because there will be people there that I do not know.

I am really digressing here, but a couple of weeks ago we hosted a traveling poet and a local poet at the gallery.  We have, host and offer public events all the time and I go to and often facilitate the daytime ones, but if it is in the evening, I just quail and end up staying home.  Sometimes I feel compelled to promise that I will show up for one of these things, but I almost always break those promises.  I know that I will do that when I make the promise and those who know me know that I will most likely break the promise, but they keep asking me to make them and I keep breaking them and it really is embarrassing and pointless.

But, I actually went out, in the dark, to this poetry thing.  It was nice, wonderful really, and I enjoyed myself.  The traveling poet is very much in the reality story-telling process, much like Billy Collins, whom I adore because he is the first poet of that discipline that I ever experienced and also because it is the kind of poetry that I have always written, except for the times when someone forced me to rhyme.  Bastards.

So, there I am at the poetry thing and all is going well and I am not panicking or anything outwardly visible, but I know that I have reached my limits, had endured entirely enough of late-night, O.K., early evening, sheesh, grown-up fun and I know that I should just pick up my stuff and leave before anyone notices.

But, nooooo, I have to be a big girl and stay and do grown-up stuff with the grown ups.  It did not take more than ten minutes for me to manifest how truly socially inept I am.  Man.  Even now, this moment, I can feel myself flushing and blushing and I am right back there, feeling that desperate need to just get the hell out of there.  Seriously, what is that all about?  Especially at my age.  I am already old enough that I will likely not ever, as in never, be able to figure out this sort of thing. 

And, then, there I am, sitting in the take-out chair, talking to another take-out chair sitter.  And, having a really nice conversation, and I am not feeling the teeniest bit shy or retiring.  Same thing happens when I teach or give workshops.  Maybe it is the total stranger part that makes this easy.  Maybe less threatening.  I do not think that I could do that with a man.  Too many cultural barriers.  Besides, despite how much I love men, and even though I have some wonderful men friends in my life, that direction is where most of the pain in my life has come.  You know, sometimes I really hope and wish that there is reincarnation and that I will have a chance to develop good, safe, wholesome and loving relationships with the men in my life.  A father who, well, that is not important to these musings.  But, a husband who could love me even a little bit for who I am, oh, that would be so nice.  I would really love that.  Next time in the flesh I hope I have that.

Whatever the dynamic, it was nice hanging out for that bit of time, talking to another woman and just, I do not know, being able to trust in the process.

Babe time.  It was really great, and I had a wonderful dinner that I did not have to cook.  Even better is that tomorrow is Saturday Coffee.  Life is so good.

New process, first batch, fresh lesson

You know, when I poured that soap yesterday, I knew, like really knew in my heart, that I had stirred it too long.  I tried to pretend that it was going to be fine, and if I had stayed up all night with it and kept testing to see if the loaf could be sliced, well, I might have gotten actual bars out of it.

But, I did not pay attention to how long I was grooving on the while stirring thing.
I did not pay attention to the environment in which I was making the stuff.
I did not stay up all night.
I did not test it for slicing.

I waited until this morning and got this.

It gelled beautifully, I swear.  But, I stirred it too long.  I also think that standing out there in the cool and lovely afternoon distracted me and I clearly remember that there was nothing between the bottom of the rockin' purple pan and the open-work wrought iron table.  Rats.

It is find to enjoy the lovely Autumn day, especially the sky, which totally knocked my socks off, but you have to pay attention to what you are doing, for crying out loud.

I did more things wrong than one would think to be humanly possible.  It is, however, a lovely soap, lathers beautifully and has that nice, fresh scent that only new soap can give your nose such pleasure.

It seems like the only thing I did right was to not have enough lye to make all three batches.  So, anyway, when I get back from the dentist and the bank and work, where I have to check out the newly remodeled workspace and find out how tomorrow is going to go, I will take my new 1.5 quart crock pot out of the box and slowly rebatch this crumbly mess. 

Well, off to chop up the corpse so that it melts down more effectively and then to brush my teeth so that I do not totally gross out my dentist.  She likes me a lot and I would like to keep it that way.