Same as always. Hey hey…I lost three pounds! How clever, eh? I guess at this point, I can’t even get excited because it’s so easy to find them again if I’m not careful, and let’s face it, folks - I’m just not always careful. I have to admit, acknowledge, OWN the fact that my weight is just plain cyclical, and that’s all there is to it. Sometimes (usually early summer through late fall) I get pretty close to where I’d really like to be - and stay - within five or six pounds, anyway - and it feels good, and I manage to look decent and be active and enjoy life a bit, AND THEN, even though every year I SWEAR that I’m not going to, I gain weight through the winter months. Not always a LOT, but enough to make my clothes too snug (and make some downright too tight to wear!) and enough to make me FEEL unhappy with myself. Then, it gets around to late February (now) and we start having a few warmer days and the snow starts to melt a bit, and I’m thinking SPRING, and when I think spring, I think, “Oh gawd! I’m not gonna fit into my clothes!!!!” and that’s when I get back on track with my dieting and manage to drop the winter pounds…only to gain them back again within a month or so of the first snowfall. I KNOW this isn’t healthy or good to be up and down like a yo-yo, but I can’t seem to climb out of this annoying cycle that I’m in. Sometimes I just truly wish that I could be comfortable weighing more than I’d like to, but I just can’t. (I’ve tried). Well, I suppose that’s what we all have in common here then, isn’t it? None of us can get comfortable staying heavier than we’d like to be. Now this is going to sound a little far-fetched, maybe, but I’m beginning to believe that our imperfections - and in this case, I’m talking battles with weight, of course - are what make us nice people, more able to empathize with others, more tolerant and more understanding, I think, of some of the battles that others fight throughout their lives. Then, of course there are times when it doesn’t make us empathetic at all, and we just want to kick some skinny person dead in the butt for complaining about gaining three ounces or something. I know that I, personally, feel a little homocidal everytime I’m out at lunch with some ultra skinny co-worker or board member (one of our board members runs the Boston marathon every year; she’s the size of one of my legs) and she can’t finish what she ordered - a freaking SIDE salad without dressing! Yes, SURE, that’s why she’s skinny and I’m not, but must she FLAUNT her self-discipline quite so blatantly, for pity’s sake? Then there’s ANOTHER board member - very wealthy - who is 75 if she’s a day, but has had herself “cosmetically altered” so drastically that she can barely smile, and her jawline is so sharp it’s a wonder she hasn’t cut off a hand applying make-up; well, SHE looks at me quite pityingly, of course, and I can just about read her mind…”Poor Z. Look at all those wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Look at that double chin emerging…look at that pudgy body (this woman has had her BODY altered, too! I SWEAR it!!!) look at the knock-off designer clothes! Poor thing is on the decline, isn’t she?” Oh well, at least I can smile, you…um….you KNOW! (Smile while I shoot her between the eyes, that is!)
Okay, so the way that I comfort myself through all of this is by telling myself that there will always be bigger, smaller, older, younger, richer, poorer, etc., etc. people than me in the world. That’s just how it is. Sometimes this helps, and sometimes it doesn’t. I just thought I’d throw it out there. No guarantees implied.
Did I mention that I’m at home today? I went to work and then couldn’t imagine staying there all day long, so I developed a sudden “stomach virus” and came right on home. It may have something to do with the fact that DH is off at a couple of meetings today, and I couldn’t resist the rare opportunity to be home all be my lonesome. I have to grab these times where I can, you know?
Well, this has been quite a stream-of-conciousness blather, hasn’t it. I don’t dare re-read it.
Hugs,
Z
A very small pinhole, and that’s the truth. I, too, stepped onto that dastardly scale several days ago, and was not a happy camper. In fact, the term “happy” is so far from what I felt that on a scale of one to ten with one being as unhappy as they can possibly imagine being and ten being as totally ecstatic as one can possibly imagine being, I’ll rate myself as a minus-five. Oh, such gnashing of teeth and feelings of impotence and powerlessness! Oh, such an UNFAIR condition to be in after years and years of battling with the scale, trying to eat properly, and ending up, every time, weighing more than I want to be weighing! I have managed to gain back 12 pounds over the course of this freaking, stinking, no-good rotten winter! No WONDER I didn’t want to weigh myself, eh? So what now? Well. Let’s see. What are my options? Give it all up as a bad job, eat all the crap I want, give up on the exercising, crawl into that great big chair in my living room, put my feet up on the ottoman, wrap my great bulk in a comfy blankie and let the world go by while I nibble on chocolates and read trashy novels all day long? Hmmm. Sounds good - for awhile, anyway. But when I finally crawled out of my cocoon, I’d be a lot worse off than I am now, right? (Right). Okay, so spring is actually on it’s way, DH & I will be able to get out and do some hiking again together, and in the meantime, if I want to look forward to that, I guess I’d better keep on walking with that loud-mouthed Leslie Sansone every morning even though the next time she says “We’ll just walk - and talk - YOU know <giggle here> I want to throw something at the screen. And I’d better keep on making healthy meals and just eat a little less of them - oh, and I guess I’d better throw away those chocolate-covered macadamia nuts that I have in my glove compartment to nibble on when stuck in traffic, doncha know? Oh, I’ve developed some TERRIBLE habits over the course of this winter! And BESIDES, I have some rather nice summer clothes that I’m wanting to wear - some that I’ve never even worn at all - and they are NOT in elephantine sizes!!!! So, it’s back to behaving better for the umpteen thousandth time….(damnit!)
On a more pleasant note, some of you know that my middle daughter is the executive director of the American Heart Association here in central Massachusetts - oh, and her territory includes southern Connecticut, as well. Bottom line, they had their big black-tie fundraising gala and auction last weekend, and she had asked DH to donate one of his paintings for the auction, which he did do. Turns out some bigwig from New York bought the painting for a huge amount of money, and has invited DH, my daughter and I to attend a cocktail party at his apartment overlooking Central Park in New York City at which time he plans to “unveil” the painting to his many friends and business associates. He asked DH for a brochure or something displaying some of his other work, and plans to give them out to the attendees. We’ve already gotten several calls from folks he’s talked to asking if DH does commission work because they “need something with green (or red, or blue, or whatever) in it for this spot in their house…. (YES, DH does commission work, and if he didn’t, he’d better start, right?) so this could get rather interesting to say the least. HOWEVER, since painting doesn’t require him to leave the house, this does NOT get him off the hook for keeping the house clean. He can either do it himself, or if he sells a painting or two from time to time, he can HIRE somebody to do it. That’s my decision, and I’m sticking to it!!!!! And that’s also the pinprick of light at the end of MY tunnel that I referred to above 
Tomorrow - President’s day here in Massachusetts - (I don’t know if it’s the same everywhere?) I’m having all of my local kids and their kids (or at least the available grandkids) over for brunch. A very healthy brunch - Fiber One brand pancakes with fresh blueberries, turkey sausage, bacon (oh, you have to give this bunch bacon, but I won’t eat any); eggbeater omelets with FF cheese, onions and peppers, whole wheat bagels and cream cheese, banana nut muffins made with Fiber One muffin mix (I LOVE the Fiber One products!!!) and fresh fruit, juice and coffee of course. I will have my regular Sunday breakfast of two Fiber One blueberry pancakes, sugar-free maple syrup and two turkey sausage links. (Back to my oatmeal on Tuesday). It’ll be fun to have the kiddos all together - we usually only are ALL together on holidays, a few summer cook-outs, and of course dinners and such together whenever my son is home visiting from sunny L.A. He won’t be here for this brunch, but we’ll do another one (breakfast is his favorite meal) when he’s home at the beginning of May. He’s coming May 1st for TWO reasons - the twins will be here by then (my daughter is scheduled to be induced if they haven’t been born by April 19, which is, coincidentally, MY birthday!) and he is to be Godfather to them, and My Heart-daughter’s spring Heart Walk is on May 2nd, and her brother ALWAYS comes for her Heart Walks, helps with the heavy lifting, which there’s a LOT of behind the scenes - and then emcees the whole thing. He has a real fan base among the walkers, and I think some of them just come and do the walk so they can see - and get a hug at the finish line - from him. (He’s a rather charismatic chap, and not too shabby in the looks department, either…oh, that’s my boy!!! LOL!!!)
Well, time to do a stem-to-stern cleaning of the abode - have to banish every last cat hair from the premises so that nobody, God forbid, should find one in their banana nut muffin tomorrow.
Work again on Tuesday. Ugh. How many days before I can retire, anyway?
Hugs,
Z
Sort of. I’m still about 25% miffed, but I guess it’ll pass. The house was pristine when I got home last night; he even used that funny little long-handled duster-thingy on all the ceiling fans, and made sure that he didn’t leave so much as a crumb on any of the counters or tables, or anywhere else. And, he was so damned miserable that I just couldn’t keep on pretending he wasn’t there. So, I just told him that as far as I was concerned he could do one of two things: take on some consulting work and be out and about, or take better care of the house if he’s going to be in it most of the time. I don’t really care which. He says he’ll start by taking better care of the house, and make a decision about consulting work somewhere down the line. I know he doesn’t want to do it; he worked for 40 years as a software engineer & project manager, and it was frequently very high pressure, trying to meet deadlines and all that (of course, not unlike MY job, in that respect) and he’s really enjoyed being able to devote time to his art and writing and all, but as far as I’m concerned, we need to SHARE the day-to-day responsibilities, and if I’m off at work for 11 hours every day, then, logically, he should do the lion’s share (Translation: ALL) of the housework. And he should do it properly; not just a quick wipe-over, etc. I THINK we have reached an understanding; we’ll see how it goes. The next time, it won’t be an IMplosion, it will most definitely be an EXplosion, with him right in the eye of the storm. Or is that actually where it’s the calmest? If that’s the case, he’ll be swirling about on the outer edges for sure!
Okay, last night we had the leftovers from Sunday - the meal I cooked, but didn’t eat any of on Sunday - pork roast, baked sweet potatoes, homemade apple-pear-cranberry sauce, and spinach. Yumm-o!!!! Not a lot of calories, and good fiber content between the sweet potato and other fruits/veggies. This morning I had my Instant Quaker maple/brown sugar flavor DIET oatmeal, and just about fifteen minutes ago, a small apple sliced and dipped into a tablespoon of Teddie’s all-natural peanut butter. Not hungry, so that’s good. Homemade chicken soup for lunch - I took the last Glad container out of the freezer. Time to make another batch. I haven’t weighed myself, because I have always found it depressing - until I get a little closer to goal, and I can tell when that is just by the way my clothes are fitting.
It snowed again. What a broken record that sounds like. Snow and more snow. Tiresome. No wonder I’m at DH’s throat. (Well, that and his laziness). I’m tired of looking at the stuff. It was very winter-wonderland-ish this morning driving down the ‘Pike - the sun was shining brightly and the snow everywhere was just sparkling. Great for postcards. Lousy for everyday living. Island-girlie, you have no idea how many times I think of you - and Annie, of course. You BOTH made such good decisions about where to live your lives. Mine, in comparison - and in retrospect - seems incredibly stupid. I could’ve gone anywhere, done anything. And now here I am, STILL in New England, which is pleasant only in late spring and mid-fall, and I’m pretty much locked in, with twin grandbabies on the way. It wouldn’t be an optimum time to announce that I was retiring to warmer climes. Oh, well, the bright side of being my age is that time really does fly - whether you’re having fun or not. I can hardly believe that it’s already February. It seems like we just finished Christmas a week or two ago.
Well, today I’m planning to walk a block or so down the street to a place called “Souper Salad” where you can get, not surprisingly, a vast variety of soups and/or fill your own plate from a well-stocked salad bar. Since I can’t really trust them to make soup according to my own personal standards, I will be having a nice big salad. Going to use Annie’s dip-your-fork-in-the-dressing method, too. Thanks, Annie!
Over and out for today,
Hugs,
Z
Okay. I’m not a happy camper today. Not by a long shot. Actually, I’m at work, and at present, I’d RATHER be at work than at home. It was NOT a pleasant weekend. I think most of you (or most anybody who ever reads this blog) knows that my DH (and the “D” is not for “dear” right now, trust me. Use your imagination) is retired now. What this means, of course, is that while I schlep back and forth 40 miles on the ‘pike each way and WORK five days a week, he stays home where he can do pretty much as he pleases. He paints his pictures, writes his stories, does a little sculpting, and does household chores like throwing in a few loads of laundry, taking out the trash, cleaning the litter boxes, etc. Nothing that’s exactly labor-intensive or terribly time-consuming by any means. Please keep in mind that five days a week, I leave my house at 6:30 in the morning and get home at 5:30 at night. Usually, I make supper when I get home. (He loads the dishwasher and wipes up the counters & stove). So, I’m gone 11 hours out of 24, and I’m in bed asleep for 6 or 7, so that leaves, say 6 hours a day that are spent - well, an hour and a half getting ready to leave in the morning, so 4 1/2 hours home in the evening before I go to bed, a few hours of which is spent making supper, eating supper, taking a bath, getting my clothes out for work the next day. So, this man - this “DH” - has 11 hours while I’m gone every day to devote to his little projects, and just in the interests of fairness, wouldn’t you say he could keep up with a majority of the housework? Like dusting and vacuuming on a regular basis, maybe? Like sweeping the kitchen floor and even maybe washing it once a week? Like wiping out the refrigerator and throwing out stuff that nobody’s going to eat? Now I’ve gently pointed this out to him from time to time - just gently; just a suggestion, you understand. And each time, he’s responded very positively, and has actually vacuumed - and dusted - at least once before letting it all fall to sh*t again. I should note, of course, that on those occasions when he has called himself “dusting” - well, we have several rooms with floor-to- ceiling, wall-to-wall bookcases. Also, on the book shelves (in front of the books) I have some pictures in frames, some small pieces of sculpture, this and that. So what does he do? He wipes AROUND the pictures and such, and just in FRONT of the books. He doesn’t take a book - or a picture - or anything - down, he just haphazardly wipes around it. AND HE PROUDLY POINTS OUT TO ME THAT HE “DUSTED” TODAY! Blah!
Well, Saturday took the cake. We had plans to go up to a little get together with some friends in New Hampshire. I was planning to bring one of my “Smart” (low calorie, high fiber) Penne Pasta dishes. I make it with Italian flavored turkey sausage, ground turkey meat, chopped green, red and yellow peppers, onions and sliced black olives. Oh, and tomato sauce and diced tomatoes flavored with garlic. It takes a bit of preparation time. But, as I was leaving to go to the grocery store, DH (and remember - the “D” isn’t for “dear”) suddenly “remembered” that he’d had a phone conversation with one of the women during the week and that he’d promised her that he would *make* Boxty cakes - some kind of Irish potato pancakes! Huh? Irish potato pancakes? I’ve never even heard of Irish potato cakes, never mind made any! The only potato pancakes that I’m familiar with are Jewish potato pancakes (served with sour cream and apple sauce - yum!) So, I remain pleasant enough, even though I’m beginning to feel just a tad taken advantage of, here. I mean, I’m bringing 20-freaking pounds of pasta. Why would I need to make potato pancakes (which, mind you, I’ve never even made in my life!) as well? Because HE promised? What kind of woman calls and gets your HUSBAND to promise you’ll bring something, anyway? This is ridiculous. I get to the market and can’t find potato pancake mix. The only thing I can find is a box of potato-something-or-other mix for making potato dumplings. So I buy three boxes of that, finish my shopping and head home. Now, it’s 12:30, and we need to leave by 3:30 in order to get there at 5:00. Hell, yes, I’m disgruntled. I’ve got four burners on my stove and I’m supposed to fry up the sausages and meat for the pasta sauce, have the rest of the pasta sauce warming on another burner, have water heating for the pasta itself on another burner, and of course be frying this freaking potato pancake mess on the fourth and last burner while DH hovers about watching the clock and worrying about leaving on time. I am getting more and more irritated with each passing moment. Finally I reach up to the shelf over my stove where I keep my spices to get down a bottle of red pepper flakes for the pasta sauce, and the damned spice bottle has about an eighth of an inch of dust on the top. I had to freaking wipe it off in order to use it!!!!! So, at that point, the dam burst, and I let it all out. NUMBER ONE, I am NOT going; NUMBER TWO, I am not going to live in this PIGSTY any longer, and NUMBER THREE, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll trot your a** up to New Hampshire, leave me ALONE for once in my life, and DON’T TALK TO ME when you get back.
So he went, and I spent the evening in blissful solitude in the big chair that we call the “ocean liner” with my feet up on the ottoman, watching a season’s worth of that British sitcom “As Time Goes BY” It was heavenly.
Then, yesterday, I got up and started cleaning the place from top to bottom. And completely ignoring him. He started taking books down off the shelves in the master bedroom, wiping them individually, and doing this meticulous job of attending to each book and each picture frame and each doodad. IT TOOK HIM THE BETTER PART OF THE DAY. And while he was in the bedroom wiping down books, I cleaned the kitchen from ceiling to floor and wall-to-wall, did the same in the dining room, living room, bathroom, and spare bedroom. I did NOT talk to him. I have NOT talked to him. And this morning, I got out my own lunch things, helped myself into my own coat, and left without saying goodby.
And, I’m still annoyed.
I have NOT overeaten - I’ll be damned if I’m going to let HIM push me into eating to feel better. Nope. In fact, all I ate yesterday (because I was SO angry that I flat out wasn’t hungry) was a pear. Period. Today I’ve brought some of the leftover pasta for lunch. Healthy stuff. Yesterday I even went out in the afternoon to WALK. And I managed to do something to my knee. Don’t remember slipping or twisting it or anything, but last night before I went to bed, it was really sore, and I have pouches of swelling underneath and on each side of my kneecap. I can walk on it, but it’s sore. So, I’m annoyed about THAT, too.
Things will get better, of course. This is just the first time in eight years of being together that I’ve had a big blow-out with DH. And it wasn’t even a blow-out, really. I didn’t talk to him at all after that initial declaration about not going, etc., etc. Since then, he’s attempted to talk several times, tried to help with my lunch, tried to help with my coat, but I am just ignoring him. So it isn’t a blow-out. It’s more like an implode than an explode, I guess. But my implodes can be dangerous. They come after many months of self-restraint.
I don’t intend to work on the job AND at home while he does the bare minimum. Nuh-uh. Nope.
AND I will be skinny soon. Skinny and mean. Really.
Sorry for the rant.
Hugs,
Z
Oh, here I am again. Still among the living. How about that? Oh, and listen…I started walking with blabbermouth Leslie again yesterday morning. Now I have TWO mornings under my belt (so to speak) and am feeling semi-virtuous again. Did better with my eating, too. Just my breakfast (either oatmeal w/a handful of raisins or a multi-grain bagel with FF cream cheese), lunch and dinner - and being careful what I eat at each meal. NO snacks in between, no M&M’s (My downfall), no nuttin’. Not ravenous, either. Doin’ okay so far. Wearin’ a skirt that was too tight awhile ago. It’s still snug, but not obviously snug, and it’s long - like lower mid-calf - and straight. It’s this nubbly tweed with dark brown and copper and rust and (wait, lemme look..) also a little beige-y nubble. It’s an amazing skirt that I paid a veritable fortune for, and feel that I should wear it once in a while, y’know? I have my sassy brown boots with the HEELS on, too. Hell, yes, I’m an old crone, but I can still have fun sometimes. What the hell? There’s a woman who works in the finance department who mustn’t be much older than I am, but she wears shapeless slacks to work every day with equally shapeless blouses or short-sleeved sweaters, and she has this bulging TIRE around her midsection…and….and…..omigawd. Talk about inspiration to stay on my diet, eh? So, anyway, it’s supposed to snow again tonight - 6 to 12 inches, probably. Can I tell you how much I’m looking forward to this? NOT, I mean? I have SO had enough with winter already. It’s making me lethargic and tired all the time. I know it is. But, like I said, I AM better now. Didn’t even work up much of a sweat walking with that rotten Leslie this morning. Sometimes her cheeriness really annoys me. Who can be cheerful at 5:00 AM? I retain my sanity by talking back to her. Sometimes not too pleasantly. Hah!
So I made up my mind to order some new wooden plantation blinds for my dining room. I have them in my living room - the 2 1/2″ slats in mahogany color - and that’s what I’ve been wanting to put in the dining room, as well. Of course they cost too damned much, so I’ve been putting it off for a while, now. But they’re on sale - 30% off - through TODAY, so I went ahead and placed the order. Hell with it. I work every day. I can have plantation blinds in my dining room if I want. Oh, we bought a new dining room table and chairs over this past weekend, too. More contemporary than what I had. Straighter lines, but in dark brown to match all the woodwork and built-in cabinets (and the blinds, of course). Hell, yes. The economy is down the toilet, but I don’t care. I may as well live a little while I still can, right? I’m going to get rid of a lot of clutter that has built up. I have too much stuff. I’ll see what my kids want, and anything they don’t want is going to the Salvation Army. I’m going to streamline my house - and myself. I have all these extra CHAIRS. I guess I went through a period when I loved having unique chairs around the house - a woven banana leaf one, a nice dark brown wicker one with a matching ottoman, a fancy Queen Anne style with ornate carving on the back & arms…who needs all these stupid chairs???? They’re taking up way too much space. I need some space. Room to walk around in. New Year, new outlook. That’s right. We have a big gathering of friends planned for Memorial Day weekend - up in our usual White Mountain getaway. By then, I plan to have achieved a number of five-pound weight loss goals, plan to have walked a few hundred miles with that big-mouthed Leslie Sansone, and plan to be really fit and ready to do some heavy-duty hiking and climbing.
Okay. Yeah. I know I’m rambling, here. Guess I’ll go heat up my chicken soup for lunch. It’s home-made. It has chicken broth, carrots, onions, celery, kale, brown rice and great big chunks of chicken breast, I season it with cumin and Mrs. Dash salt-free garlic & table seasoning mix. Oh, and a good shaker of dried parsley. Fresh ground black pepper. REALLY good, and I’ve never been much of a soup eater, but I love this stuff. I have a piece of multi-grain pita bread to eat with it. My virtuousness is beyond measure, eh?
So where’s Ruby Jean, for gawd sakes?
Hugs,
Z
January 20, 2009. Amazing to have lived long enough to see this finally happen. I hate to do it, but I’ve got to say a big Thank you to George W. Bush for screwing up so completely that everybody wanted his exact opposite in the White House, which, of course, is Barack Obama. Now, I don’t know just how much Obama is going to be able to change - say over the next year or so (and beyond, of course) - but suffice it to say that WHATEVER he accomplishes, it’ll be a step in the right direction for this country of ours that has been so brutally exploited over the past eight years by Bush and his cronies. One has to admire his chutzpah, though, eh? I mean, most people, knowing how much they are disdained and disliked by the multitudes, would probably choose to slink away quietly and hope not to be noticed. Well, perhaps that really isn’t an option for him, but it ought to be. I’m very resentful about that mini-mansion he’s moving into when so many in this country have lost their homes to foreclosure as a result of the mortgage banking meltdown. And, in typical Bush-administration style, they bail out the banks and let the little folks be thrown out into the street. It all very (obviously) irritating to me - downright enrages me, if you want the truth, but it’s something of an impotent rage, after all…I did what I could by supporting Obama. Now, it’s up to him.
I’m at work - and planning to watch the inaugural events online. Anyone who doesn’t like it can kiss my grits.
Okay. Now back to moi. I come to you straight from a three day weekend spent gulping down antibiotics, steroids, cough syrup with codeine (at night) and Mucinex to loosen up the chest congestion. I didn’t leave the house on Saturday or Sunday, and only ventured out with DH yesterday to do some badly-needed grocery shopping. Then, home again, home again, jiggedy-jig, and tucked back in watching one movie after the other on instant Netflix, with a steaming cup of hot tea with honey and lemon ever present at my side. Have I been walking with Leslie? Well, no. I saw the Doctor on Wednesday (from whom flowed all those prescription medicines) and my oxygen levels were pretty low because of the chest infection, so I’ve been getting short of breath and exhausted with minimal effort. Best to “lay low”, and “take it easy” - or so saith the good doctress, at any rate. Funny how once you’ve been exercising regularly, when you stop, you can almost FEEL those pounds creeping back around your midsection. SO not optimum! Still a bit too easily fatiqued, though, so I’m guessing I probably won’t be walking mornings this week. I’m thinking I’d best call the doc and get another 5-day antibiotic pack, too, since there’s still a lot of residual crud bubbling around in the chest. Ah, such is life.
So far, I haven’t felt any huge compulsion to jump-start my dieting prior to the Feb. 1 cut-off point that I established for myself. Lethargy rules, I’m afraid. I’ve been reading some more conscientious bloggers here, and trying to motivate myself with their successes, but despite being happy for those who are doing well, I’m afraid that I’m still not quite ready to jump back on the wagon. And the sad part of all that is that I feel so much BETTER when I am eating right and exercising daily - this slumping about is so self-defeating, really. The WEATHER isn’t very helpful, either. We had about ten more inches of snow Saturday night and into Sunday. A real winter wonderland out there, let me tell you! More predicted? Oh, you betcha! Cha cha cha, huh?
Okay, well, things - at least politically - are looking up, and I MUST get myself into the stream of *feeling good about it all*. That will be my self-help project for today.
Tah,
Z
I woke up this morning feeling like pure-D key-rap, and that’s the truth. Sore throat, wheezy chest, aches all over my body….oh, aurrrgh. So, do I take some nice, soothing, sleep-inducing medicine and crawl back into my nice, warm bed? Um. No. Nuh-uh. No CAN DO; I am working against something like six deadlines this month, and while I can assign research stuff to other people, I, and only I can do the writing, which makes no sense, but I mean, what does make sense around here? (nothing). So I chugged an ounce or so of that liquid Tylenol (daytime) for SEVERE cold/flu symptoms, took a shower (which made me feel marginally better) and schlepped into work where I am now drinking hot coffee, eating one of my homemade bran muffins with fresh blueberries, dates and chopped walnuts (yes, I know it’s not exactly standard muffin filling, but I threw in what I had) OH and I also added a cup of Fiber One cereal that I grated to the consistency of bread crumbs in the blender and a half cup of ground flax seed. Now, is that healthy or what? (We’ll try to ignore the fact that my homemade muffins are easily the biggest you can possibly imagine, with tops rising up and spreading out over the little cup like hot air balloons. So perhaps I should consider that in reality, I actually am eating TWO normal-sized muffins? Oh, who’s counting? Not me. Not this week, and maybe not even next week. I’m toying with the idea of eating what I want until February 1. Why? Just simply because I’m tired. (Sick, too, but that’s neither here nor there). I’m fed up with counting calories, fiber content, fat, sodium, etc., etc., etc. Of course, I am also fed up with not being at the weight I’d like to be at, but that’s a whole other story. I know myself pretty well by now. I’ll not watch my intake at all for the rest of this month, and although I’m not going to change my cooking style from healthy to not-healthy, and will continue to serve the kinds of things I typically make for DH and I, I will ALSO indulge in a dessert (or a muffin) or whatever I want WHENEVER I want, and that’s all there is to it. And what will that accomplish? Well, nothing, actually, beyond gaining maybe five or six pounds, which isn’t something I want to do, but it may be necessary for me to indulge myself a bit if I’m to get back to counting (which is the only tried and true way for me to lose weight over the long term) full-force next month. Oh, yes, indeed, as I type this, the word *rationalization* springs to mind, but the other thing that springs to mind is that I am old enough to not be so concerned with how I look anymore. Age is inevitable. And I’m not about to be one of those old bags with the long, curly blonde wigs, make-up applied with a trowel, and withered boobs hanging out of dresses designed for 20-year-olds. (Omigawd…have any of you seen any of those photo files on AOL of where stars from the fifties, sixties and seventies are now? ONE of them…if any of you remember the show “Beverly Hillbillies” played Elly Clampett – or that’s what I think her name was in the role – who was probably in her twenties when the series was on the air, and had long blonde pig-tailish things and wore little teensy cut-off jeans and checked shirts with cleavage down to her navel, almost – anyway, they have a picture of her today and she’s in her seventies, I think, because I was just a little kid myself when the re-runs were on – and TODAY she’s got that long blonde wig, and the heavy eye-makeup and the pancake stuff on her face, and you can see where the wrinkles have been filled in with something like flesh-colored cement or something. Now, I mean, surely she doesn’t think that the public hasn’t noticed that she’s aged? Good grief! Well, anyway, I think I’m coming to grips with the need to age gracefully, which is to say, without artifice, but hopefully as energetically as possible – which is why I am still walking with that big mouthed Leslie Sansone every morning, and hiking hither and yon with DH and friends whenever the opportunity arises. And, of course, if one wishes to grow old both gracefully and energetically, packing on a whole bunch of extra pounds is pretty counter-productive, eh? Which means getting back to keeping track of what I put in my mouth, except not just now. I need a little space, here. I think. I never know how I’m going to feel when I get up tomorrow, now, do I? Tomorrow I may just find myself at my wits end with being too chubby for my own good, and resolve to start counting immediately. I never have any long-term plans that can’t be changed, after all.
This past weekend was fairly relaxing – at least on Sunday, since it snowed all night Saturday, and continued snowing well into Sunday afternoon, and we tucked ourselves in snugly and stayed put. On Saturday, I went grocery shopping in the morning, stopped in at Kohl’s and bought the twin grandsons who will be arriving, it looks like, sometime in late March or early April, some matching outfits on sale. I’ve been picking up little outfits and stretchy suits and such up here and there when I’m out and about – just delivered a big bagful of maybe 15 outfits apiece for them on Saturday, and now I’m back at it. Of course I don’t buy for the twins without buying something for their big sister, too (some of you may remember her with her poor little broken wing last summer) so my Kohl’s charge (and Macy’s, Penneys, and Target) is taking a beating, but I just pay it off at the end of each month, and it’s over and done with. In another month, we’ll have to get down to the REAL brass tacks and start buying furniture for the nursery. My ex-husband has pledged $500, and so that’s what DH & I will do. And, my other daughters and son will throw in some $$$ as well as the in-laws, so between us all, these boys should have a fully furnished and stocked nursery.
Well, you KNOW I have work to do here, and am only putting it off, so I’d better get to it. Oooh, that muffin was sooooooooo good! (And good FOR me, too! Can’t beat that!)
Later, Gators,
Z
I woke up this morning feeling like pure-D key-rap, and that’s the truth. Sore throat, wheezy chest,
aches all over my body….oh, aurrrgh. So, do I take some nice, soothing, sleep-inducing medicine
and crawl back into my nice, warm bed? Um. No. Nuh-uh. No CAN DO; I am working against
something like six deadlines this month, and while I can assign research stuff to other people, I,
and only I can do the writing, which makes no sense, but I mean, what does make sense around
here? (nothing). So I chugged an ounce or so of that liquid Tylenol (daytime) for SEVERE cold/flu
symptoms, took a shower (which made me feel marginally better) and schlepped into work where I
am now drinking hot coffee, eating one of my homemade bran muffins with fresh blueberries, dates
and chopped walnuts (yes, I know it’s not exactly standard muffin filling, but I threw in what I had)
OH and I also added a cup of Fiber One cereal that I grated to the consistency of bread crumbs in
the blender and a half cup of ground flax seed. Now, is that healthy or what? (We’ll try to ignore the
fact that my homemade muffins are easily the biggest you can possibly imagine, with tops rising up
and spreading out over the little cup like hot air balloons. So perhaps I should consider that in reality
I actually am eating TWO normal-sized muffins? Oh, who’s counting? Not me. Not this week, and
maybe not even next week. I’m toying with the idea of eating what I want until February 1. Why?
Just simply because I’m tired. (Sick, too, but that’s neither here nor there). I’m fed up with counting
calories, fiber content, fat, sodium, etc., etc., etc. Of course, I am also fed up with not being at the
weight I’d like to be at, but that’s a whole other story. I know myself pretty well by now. I’ll not watch
my intake at all for the rest of this month, and although I’m not going to change my cooking style from
healthy to not-healthy, and will continue to serve the kinds of things I typically make for DH and I, I
will ALSO indulge in a dessert (or a muffin) or whatever I want WHENEVER I want, and that’s all
there is to it. And what will that accomplish? Well, nothing, actually, beyond gaining maybe five or
six pounds, which isn’t something I want to do, but it may be necessary for me to indulge myself a
bit if I’m to get back to counting (which is the only tried and true way for me to lose weight over the
long term) full-force next month. Oh, yes, indeed, as I type this, the word *rationalization* springs to
mind, but the other thing that springs to mind is that I am old enough to not be so concerned with
how I look anymore. Age is inevitable. And I’m not about to be one of those old bags with the long,
curly blonde wigs, make-up applied with a trowel, and withered boobs hanging out of dresses
designed for 20-year-olds. (Omigawd…have any of you seen any of those photo files on AOL of
where stars from the fifties, sixties and seventies are now? ONE of them…if any of you remember
the show “Beverly Hillbillies” played Elly Clampett – or that’s what I think her name was in the role –
who was probably in her twenties when the series was on the air, and had long blonde pig-tailish
things and wore little teensy cut-off jeans and checked shirts with cleavage down to her navel,
almost – anyway, they have a picture of her today and she’s in her seventies, I think, because I was
just a little kid myself when the re-runs were on – and TODAY she’s got that long blonde wig, and the
heavy eye-makeup and the pancake stuff on her face, and you can see where the wrinkles have
been filled in with something like flesh-colored cement or something. Now, I mean, surely she
doesn’t think that the public hasn’t noticed that she’s aged? Good grief! Well, anyway, I think I’m
coming to grips with the need to age gracefully, which is to say, without artifice, but hopefully as
energetically as possible – which is why I am still walking with that big mouthed Leslie Sansone
every morning, and hiking hither and yon with DH and friends whenever the opportunity arises.
And, of course, if one wishes to grow old both gracefully and energetically, packing on a whole
bunch of extra pounds is pretty counter-productive, eh? Which means getting back to keeping
track of what I put in my mouth, except not just now. I need a little space, here. I think. I never know
how I’m going to feel when I get up tomorrow, now, do I? Tomorrow I may just find myself at my wits
end with being too chubby for my own good, and resolve to start counting immediately. I never have
any long-term plans that can’t be changed, after all.
This past weekend was fairly relaxing – at least on Sunday, since it snowed all night Saturday, and
continued snowing well into Sunday afternoon, and we tucked ourselves in snugly and stayed put.
On Saturday, I went grocery shopping in the morning, stopped in at Kohl’s and bought the twin
grandsons who will be arriving, it looks like, sometime in late March or early April, some matching
outfits on sale. I’ve been picking up little outfits and stretchy suits and such up here and there when
I’m out and about – just delivered a big bagful of maybe 15 outfits apiece for them on Saturday, and
now I’m back at it. Of course I don’t buy for the twins without buying something for their big sister,
too (some of you may remember her with her poor little broken wing last summer) so my Kohl’s
charge (and Macy’s, Penneys, and Target) is taking a beating, but I just pay it off at the end of
each month, and it’s over and done with. In another month, we’ll have to get down to the REAL
brass tacks and start buying furniture for the nursery. My ex-husband has pledged $500, and so
that’s what DH & I will do. And, my other daughters and son will throw in some $$$ as well as the
in-laws, so between us all, these boys should have a fully furnished and stocked nursery.
Well, you KNOW I have work to do here, and am only putting it off, so I’d better get to it. Oooh,
that muffin was sooooooooo good! (And good FOR me, too! Can’t beat that!)
Later, Gators,
Z
Gawd, I am in SUCH a slump, here. Post-holiday, one supposes. Aurrgh. I feel like I could sleep for a couple of day’s straight. Oh, in part, it’s the weather. I can’t remember a winter being quite so persistent with the snow and ice and sleet and so on and so forth. Seems to me that in past years, we’d at least get a little break in between bad weather incidents, but now they just keep coming, hard and fast, with very little let-up. My very BONES are aching, and my eyes, I swear, just want to close at the least convenient times (like while I’m driving down the highway). Yesterday was an abominable eating day, too. All good, nutritious foods, mind you, but WAY too much of it. I felt like a bottomless pit, y’know? Today’s a little better, not quite so ravenous, but I am looking forward to my meat loaf sandwich on pita bread at lunchtime. I made the meatloaf last night with 2 pounds of ground turkey, lots of chopped green & red pepper, onion, celery, and grated carrot. I used a couple of eggs, and grated (in the blender) Fiber One cereal instead of regular bread crumbs. Oh, and ¾ cup of ketchup, too, a palmful of cumin, some garlic, some parsley flakes, and some fresh ground black pepper. It was really, really excellent, and I just LOVE cold meatloaf sandwiches – especially when they’ve got all those veggies and extra fiber, as well. I sure do sound healthy, eh? Too bad I feel like an old, tired and worn out crone. I’m still walking with that blabbermouth Leslie Sansone for a mile every morning, but I’ve got to say that girl is getting on my last nerve. No, I won’t stop walking, but I’m seriously considering putting her on “mute” – and I would, too, if the music wasn’t so helpful in getting my old bones to jangle around a little bit. DH walks with me except on the mornings he has to put the trash out. He’s a recycling maniac – folds every box, stacks things just so in the recycling bin, packs rinsed out (catfood) cans inside other cans, etc. It takes him an hour or so on trash day mornings. Of course, he’s retired. Makes a lot of difference. Me? Well, I’m 100% with the CONCEPT of recycling, but I just don’t have the time, patience, or energy to take it to the extremes that he does. I bring my own, re-usable bags to the grocery store – I give myself a few stars for that, at least.
Our Ruby brought up the subject – in brief – of relationships that end with one of the parties in question dying before either has the inclination to resolve a disagreement or estrangement. I’m no stranger to that sort of thing, as my mother and I hadn’t spoken for two years when she died. I carried that around with me for a very long time until it occurred to me that she was on to growing spiritually (hopefully) while I was stuck with the guilt and remorse and all that good stuff associated with our failed relationship. I then had to conclude that neither of us had reached out when we could have, and possibly should have – and that the guilt wasn’t mine alone to contend with. I have recently started listening to some CD’s that I asked DH to get me for Christmas based on some philosophical writings that I was quite taken with back in the seventies when I was a rebellious flower child. Now, from the perspective of having matured ( a little ) over the past thirty-something years, I am finding them just as helpful and useful and common-sensical with regard to attitudes and approaches to daily living as I did back then. I didn’t incorporate it into my own life too well back then owing to the pressures of marriage (to what turned out to be a narcissistic nut-case), children, job and home, but now I seem to have the time and inclination to do so. And, considering my low energy levels, I’m thinking I need to do a little energy work with myself, too. No, no, the old gal hasn’t gone ‘round the bend. Not yet, anyway. This is the time in my (or anybody’s) life when I think we have the luxury of looking at and assessing our values and beliefs and ridding ourselves of those that don’t serve us well.
Now, if I can only rid myself of this ginormous appetite of mine! Seems to go in cycles – has anyone else noticed that? Oh – well, of course most of you are still having menstrual cycles, so that accounts for your fluctuations, most likely. Maybe mine is a holdover?
This upcoming weekend is 100% obligation-free. I can barely contain my delight. I plan to sleep late, and do only what I feel like doing, which won’t be much, I assure you. Maybe an eensie little bit of post-Christmas sale shopping? Hmmmm….
Okay. I’m off.
Sayonara, and be as healthy, happy and wise as you like,
Hugs,
Z
Here I am, back at work on an ordinary Monday, which means a full week of work ahead of me for the first time in awhile. Well, there IS MLK Jr.’s birthday on the 19th, which will provide a little respite, but I’m actually looking at two solid weeks of work, here, and it’s not the most cheerful thought in the world, let me tell you. On the other hand, it’s a WHOLE lot better than being without a job, which is the plight of far too many of our fellow countrywomen (and men) these days, so I guess I’ll opt for appreciating as opposed to complaining this time around. In fact, I’ve been thinking some on that very subject, and have come to the conclusion (again; I’ve actually reached this conclusion at various other times in my life) that my life is exactly how I have chosen for it to be, so if there’s anything I don’t like about it, I need to make different choices.
Now one of those choices is about my relationship with food. For many, many (FAR too many to count) years, now, I have accepted that I, unlike my more slim and svelte friends, have a weight problem. It’s a problem that I can solve – sometimes for very long periods of time, even, but never, it would seem, permanently. Inevitably, I always find myself bouncing back up no matter how strongly I have insisted to myself that having lost those unwanted pounds, I will never again regain them. I’m now a good 15 pounds up from my best, most comfortable weight, and I’m not wanting to start restricting myself to tiny portions and only this or only that…and yet I know that that’s the only way I’ve really managed to succeed in the past. But I feel very strongly that THIS time around, what I really, really need to do is stop feeling comforted by food – stop enjoying it quite so much, and start treating it the way I treat, well – gasoline, say, for my car. It’s necessary to fill up periodically, but I certainly don’t look forward to a trip to the gas station with any anticipatory relish. If I could see food as necessary, but not quite so pleasant – if I could see it as *fuel* rather than a “treat” or something that I deserve, or something that I can’t seem to get enough of – then I think I could start getting my weight where I want it to be without it’s being such a major project, and without a *diet* taking over so much of my life, and so much of my conscious attention. I also need to adapt a more Zen-like outlook towards eating – a kind of observer vs. participant role. I need to learn to observe my own reactions and attitudes towards certain foods and let them sort of “flow through” me without getting stuck or snagged on them and feeling that I HAVE to have something or other. So, anyway, THAT’S one of the things I’ll be trying to do this year.
Another thing will be to adapt a more Zen-like attitude towards my relationship with my younger daughter (the one who is preggers with twins). She and I are BOTH just a tad too controlling, I’m afraid, and tend to be rather brittle with each other – or at least this is how it’s been for the past year or so. SO, I’m going to stop EXPECTING her to say or do things that I think she should say or do. Because isn’t that precisely why we become disappointed with or offended by someone? Because they don’t behave the way we’d like them to? And if we don’t expect anything, there’s nothing that can offend or disappoint us. (Just think of me as the 3FC mystic-in-residence). So that’s another change in attitude that I’m working on this year.
So, on Saturday we spent the afternoon and evening with a group of friends out at yet another friend’s place deep in the New England woods (but WITH electricity, I’m happy to report) and we simply had a fantastic time kicking off the new year a few day’s late – but who’s counting, after all? There were about twelve of us, and everyone brought something to contribute to our New Year’s feasting (I brought my signature Jambalaya with jumbo shrimp and sausage, and a huge Greek salad) and we ate, drank (non-alcoholic bubbly, coffee, and a wide variety of exotic teas; none of us cares a fig for alcohol) and made extremely merry indeed. In addition to our culinary contributions, we were all asked to contribute something of ourselves – music, poetry, drama, prose, dance, whatever we chose to do. There was some serious talent on display throughout the evening, and not all from the professionals in the crowd, although there were actually several of those in attendance. It was just great good fun, and lightened my mood (after all the ice storms and snow storms and so on and so forth) considerably. I should probably point out that this is NOT our White Mountain crowd – our White Mountain group comes from various parts of the country (some of them from the west coast, even) for our summer gatherings, but this New Year’s crowd is more local – comprised of folks that we get together with every couple or three months to wax philosophical on whatever subject – or subjects – come up. But, as I said, all the hilarity and jovial displays of affection and interest and so on and so forth really served to “lighten” me up a bit and dispel some of the post-holiday gloom that I’d been carrying around.
So, anyway, in view of attempting a new approach – to *dieting*, or perhaps more accurately, to just living in general, I’m going to try to get back to blogging here more often and more regularly, and I hope to see some of the rest of you who have slacked off (same as me) get back to hanging here with us again, too. And, I really, really appreciate those of you who have hung in here and kept up the good work while I’ve been off brooding. SO nice to have good friends to “come home to”.
Hugs,
Z