On Sunday, I’m finally heading out to Cape Town and will be there with my mom and Aunt at a bungalow on the beach in Fish Hoek for two weeks, if anyone wants to stop by. I’ll make you tea and scones!

I’ve just arranged a hire car, and will be picking it up the morning after we arrive. My mom and I are staying in an airport hotel the first night, and the hire car will be delivered there. We’ll take it on to Auntie S’s residence, which has several names, one of which is, charmingly, “Cape Provincial Home for Elderly Ladies”. Auntie Syl has had some strokes, and while she seems perfectly alright, she no longer has a good short term memory. She has always been a bit of an eccentric, and I think her eccentricities have intensified partly because of the strokes, but also, I think this happens with old age. She seems to be almost entirely free of what little social inhibition she may have had. Mind you, she’s pretty sweet, so it should be okay. My mom is also getting on. Her walking, talking…everything, just seems so slow. She’s pretty sharp (she still can do the New York Times crossword in pen!), but she takes a long time to make any decisions. Also, she’s pretty hard of hearing.

So, there I’ll be, ladies maid/companion to my mom and Aunt. I’ve been almost dreading this. I feel so stressed and tired as it is by my own life, and haven’t been anywhere for years - no holidays, ever. I’m imagining the day-to-day, and I’m coming up with….it’s going to be very tiring. I’ve been allowing myself to feel sorry for myself, and don’t I always say - that’s fatal! Meanwhile, my mom has been saying she just wants to have a nice holiday, and she wants me to have a nice one too. That’s so sweet. Really, I must try to reframe how I’ve been thinking about this. I may not get a chance to be on a holiday with my mom again, nor my Aunt, and I do love them both very much.

So, today I am trying to pull myself together a little bit. Don’t they say your attitude influences your mood? I hope it works.

I’ve been doing pretty badly with my eating and exercising.

I will try to pull that back together too. I’m taking my laptop with me, and I’m hoping to get a chance to blog.

I want to catch up on my old blog friends’ news. I hope you are all doing okay. I’ve missed you.

Been away so long from this place, at one time my refuge! I can’t post a comment on Annie’s site and Chel is gone.

Darlings I’m still a plump pudding of a person, but at about the same weight after I lost those first 15 lbs. I am about 50 lbs overweight, but luckily for me, if I lost 20, I think I’d be presentable.

Right now, I’m still old RubyJean, vain, slightlty more old looking woman than two years ago when I started this. 

Hanging in.

I will catch up tomorrow, and start this blog again in earnest. Thanks friends, for your posts that made me feel so nice.

I come to this site from time to time, with every intention of setting down my thoughts, and then I get here and I have nothing to say. It’s like the words just dried up.

So. I figure over the last months, I’ve lost my words, lost my mojo, lost my sense of how things are supposed to be in this world, sunglasses, car keys, the desire for some things I thought I wanted, many things except…., well, weight.

And yet, I’m still hanging in, maybe under the delusion that I’m trying. AG, it’s not so bad. Just because l lost those things doesn’t mean I’m wallowing in a pit of abject misery. I’m just not who I was a few month’s ago, and I’m not really sure who I am now.

A good two or three month’s ago I caved in and asked my Dr. for some help with the depression, and he gave me Pristiq. It did seem to take the edge off, but my Dr. sort of reminds me of a pusher. He gives you a 7 day free sample, then wants you to come back in a week so he can “monitor” you. Then he gives you the next 7 days worth. In the end, I couldn’t be bothered to go there every week, (some part of me gets to what I call the “AG NEE” or “Nee Wat!” phase and I start thinking, “this is a load of Nonsense!”). There was a week in early July when I had to commute to the City for work, and since my time was so tied up with the whole being “out of town” all day, I just stopped going to him altogether. So, I’m back to being just me and my skeptical self.

To my surprise, after stopping the Pristiq, I enjoyed a three week long burst of energy and enthusiasm. Now where on earth did that come from, and why can’t I call it up at will? I baked, I cooked, I bought myself my own charcoal grill and challenged Neil to make a better burger than me (Ha! I won), I invited some women over for a jewellery party and I bought some new clothes. I celebrated my birth day for four days. The only thing I didn’t get to was to steam clean the carpets. That lovely little bubble has been on the wane this week, and I arrived at the office this morning feeling decidedly uneasy. Is there some conference going on in my head that I’m not conscious of? Do the different parts of my brain conspire against me when I’m not looking? And please, I’m not bipolar. I don’t have ADD or ADHD. My hormones might be a bit out of whack, but whose aren’t?

Okay, enough of that crazy talk.

All in all, things are okay. Up, down, enthusiastic, energetic, tired, pooped, it’s all good. It’s life.

I have watched the drama that is my sister’s life unfolding, with ever more twists and turns and trajedies. I see my mom faltering in her confidence, but still game and open to life, and I see my precious daughters making their own ways. And Neil, always there, always trying to do his best, even though I don’t give him credit. Even my pets, so dependent on us, and so full of innocence and joy. All of this makes me appreciate….that….

Life is really messy. It’s wonderful and terrible and yet, here we are. It amazes me that the world actually manages to spin right on time every day, considering all the crazy humans doing crazy things to each other and the earth. But, yup, here we are. Might as well make the most of it.

Still making the big pots of soup, still exercising during lunch-times, still trying.

Can today be a fresh start?

Is it possible for me to repackage or reframe my thoughts so that I’m not coasting downhill into the day thinking of it as just another Friday, just another work day? I suppose I could (she thought, skeptically).

Give me a few minutes and I’ll let you know how it works out.

Ruby

Most of the immediate shock of my nephew’s death has been absorbed, and my sister seems is as well as can be expected, as are as my two nieces. Although I hadn’t spent much time with him in his adult life, I do sense a new, empty space in the world - and in my head, or heart or soul or whatever you want to call it.

The Pristiq that I’ve been taking seems to be working, but I wouldn’t say it changes things that much. How do you know if it’s working, I often wonder? I’m still feel very flat. Blah….not interested in TV (well actually, that’s been so for a long time, maybe it’s not me, it’s the TV!), not that interested in reading. Can’t say I feel like cooking, but I still do. Shopping, no. Intimacy? Okaa-ay….more for you than for me….Maybe this is normal? Maybe these meds just enable you to still feel blah, but you get up, you go to work, you do the chores, whereas before, you didn’t get up, or at least you were sorely tempted to stay in bed all day.

I am putting one foot in front of the other, and getting through my days. I have abandoned Weight Watchers for now. I seem to do better with having a small breakfast – my beloved tea and toast with peanut butter or Marmite or Bovril if I can get it. I share with my boss a big tuna salad on a whole grain roll with balsamic dressing on the tuna salad (my addition), and lettuce and tomato. That usually comes with two pickles. Snacks can include fruit: banana apple, yoghurt and occasionally some almonds. Lots of water. Dinner. It’s best if I just avoid it altogether. Since I can’t do that very often, I am extremely tight with myself – very very small portions. I’m still walking or going to the gym 4 days a week. My scale this morning said 187.5. I have to be weighed tonight at a doctor’s appt. and I bet it will still be over 190. It’s amazing how potent those decade numbers are. If it’s not over 190, I’ll be elated. If it is, I’ll just tell myself that it’s only a number!

Our eldest is coming home this week-end, bringing two girlfriends, or maybe three, and possibly a puppy. She has been leaving me messages (instructions) for a couple of days…chief among them is a request to bake crunchies (granola bars that are not all that healthy), and rusks (dried dipping biscuits, kind of like Italian biscotti, but, like the Dutch, bigger, blander and heavier). I will do this tonight. One batch of rusks takes 9 cups of flour – makes about 80. Sounds like a lot, but trust me, they’re gone in two days. I was thinking of making three batches, but I don’t think my kitchen is big enough. My enthusiasm for this project is not high, but like many things, once you start, it’s usually okay. I will say this…I am looking forward to seeing my sweet girl. All my girls are sweet - and sometimes not - but mostly sweet.

Believe it or not, I’m still in the game. I’m still trying to slim down, get healthy and I still want to reach all those lofty goals…

I got over my little (shameful vanity) setback awhile ago already. Thanks for the kind and supportive comments. Not long after that incident, I had one of those moments where you take yourself in hand and give yourself a good talking to.

The result was I went back on to a mild anti-D. It’s called P*r*i*s*t*i*q (the asterisks are my, ahem, clever attempt to foil would-be spammers). I’m on a low starter dose now for about three weeks. I haven’t noticed any big difference. I’m sad, but on the other hand, I’m not quite in the depths of despair, either. My sadness is appropriate though…

How do you segue from, “I’m not in the depths of despair” to….another terribly sad event rocked my poor family this week? You don’t, you just plunge on. Anyone reading this blog must think we are like some terrible Greek tragedy.

At 4pm on Monday afternoon, an urgent email was sent to me by my niece. I didn’t see it for about 30 minutes, and when I did, I was momentarily puzzled. The email came from my sister’s address, as a reply to an earlier email that she had already replied to from me. 4pm is 10pm for my sister, and she goes to bed early. When I opened it, it still took me a few moments to comprehend what I was reading and that it was from my niece. My niece and her husband had driven out to my sister’s home late that evening because the police had contacted them to say my sister’s son had been in a car accident and was dead. I think my niece didn’t know how to contact me, and the email was easiest.

My sister’s son had just turned 36. He was the cause of a lot of trouble in the last couple of years in my sister’s life, and my niece’s life, but the person he had hurt the most was himself. He had been flying really high for a long time, working hard, owning his own business. He had bought homes and really really expensive cars (a Hummer and a Lamborghini!) and was on top of the world. Somehow (and in that “somehow” lies a very long, tragic tale of woe), it all came crashing down, and he lost everything. His wife finally left with their two little boys, and in the last year he’s been more out of work than in, still claiming that he’s got millions somewhere, not making sense, becoming abusive with his family and generally wreaking havoc.

I was thinking about him on Monday, actually, only hours before I got the news. My sister had gone away last week-end, mainly to get away from her son, who had been phoning and phoning and had been threatening violence. She was thinking of obtaining a restraining order, but was hesitating partly because she knew he’d react very badly. She was going to make inquiries on Tuesday - in fact, that was what our Monday email exchange had been about. After I read her last reply, I thought to myself, “this will never be over. The only way it will end is if he dies.”

I didn’t actually want him to die though. Would have been nice if he just could have pulled himself together, but in my heart I knew he couldn’t. It seems ironic now - when I had that terrible thought - he was already gone.

I’ve been remembering him as a little boy. He was a beautiful child, funny and mischevious and full of personality. I remember he adored his sisters. I remember how much his birth pleased our family. For two generations, there had hardly been any boys! Our grandmother was ecstatic. I remember that when he was about three or four, he took a shine to an old pair of boots that were his “Auntie” Ingrid’s (she’s only about 6 years older than him). The boots were in the garage at his grandfather’s beach house, and every time they’d visit, my nephew would run off to find his boots, which he was convinced were real fisherman’s boots. He was really small for his age, and the boots went up past his knees. He looked adorable. They were so obviously “girl” boots, but my nephew would have none of it….they were HIS fishing boots now.

The last time I saw him was in 2004. I was in SA with my mom, we visited his home for a braai  (bbq). He was obviously so pleased to have the whole family there, him being the man of the house, and he revelled in being (and was) a very good host. His home was beautiful. His two little boys were scooting around on their tricycles, playing with their cousins, my nieces two boys who are the same age. He enjoyed showing us his two big dogs and the cars and boasting about his eldest son’s naughty escapades.

It’s really sad, isn’t it?

I’ve been calling my sister every day, and I am so releived that she is surrounded by caring people. She sounded much better today. Dare I think it? Let the healing finally begin. 

I have a good friend who has always struggled with her weight. We worked together for a long time, and over the years I know she has tried different things, but always seemed to reach a point, not quite goal, and then go right back up. She never really was into Weight Watchers, but I noticed she ate pretty healthily. Last year she retired. She and her husband went through a rough patch, so most of last year was really hard on my friend. Nevertheless, during that time, she started with Weight Watchers, started exercising a bit in the gym in her apartment building, and is now doing Pilates, I think, and maybe also something called Jazzercise. I saw her on Saturday, and she’s looking really nice. My friend is a pretty woman, too. I reckon she must be now at about 225 or so. I think at one point she may have topped 300, so this is excellent. We both attended our mutual friend’s daughter’s Bat Mitzvah. It was a wonderful occasion. There are four of us, friends now for a good fifteen years. We used to be five but our dear friend Toni died of breast cancer over five years ago. The four of us don’t see each other much anymore all at the same time, so I really looked forward to the occasion. I dressed in a black dress that I bought 10 years ago for my 20th high school reunion. It’s a nice dress, has squiggles of some sort in a cream colour over the black, and it’s made of that stretchy polyester material that Chico’s outifits are made from. I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s much beloved by plump woman, which seems odd, given that it’s clingy. It drapes nicely on the body, though, if you have enough material. Anyway, I still like the dress. Haven’t bought a new dress since then! I applied my make-up carefully, did my hair, creamed and perfumed myself and felt generally nice.

Here’s my confession - and the dark part of my story. I was a little surprised that my friend was wearing a skirt and top ensemble that was very similar to my dress, although I remember that she has worn this before. Because we are close in height, plump and blonde with similar colouring, I’ve noticed that once or twice, people have mixed us up. A young woman that I was speaking to at the reception remarked, “oh! I saw you dancing earlier!”, and right away I knew it must have been my friend, since I hadn’t danced.

Do you know what? This lodged a little negative thought at the back of my head - people think we’re that alike? I am maybe 40 or 50 lbs less in weight, and I’ve never felt I was in the same league, weight wise, as my friend. Then someone took a photo, and looking at the photo, I see how similar we both are, in fact, I think I look bigger. I felt utterly deflated. I asked Neil about it, and he said, “no, don’t be silly…”, but the thought of us looking the same stayed in my head, making me feel sad and disappointed with myself, and I stopped enjoying the day.

Now really, first of all, how vain and shallow is that? I love my friend, and it seems horrible that I’ve had a “superior” opinion of my looks when it comes weight and shape. But it’s true. I must have. I will say that I’m still happy for my friend’s success, but I’m sad for me. And yes, I know that I could have chosen to smile and be “up” and I probably would have had a good time, and Neil would have had a better time - not that I was sour, I still chatted and so on, but inside I felt lousy. And also, there have been so many times in my life when the way I felt about my weight held me back from enjoying something, and yes, I know that that is wrong, wrong wrong. But there you are. I let it get to me.

Here I sit today at work; I hardly felt it was worth trying when I got ready this morning. I have zero make-up on, I’m wearing stretchy black pants that I hate, and a big top that I bought awhile ago that was a mistake. It makes me feel lousy. Suddenly, I am doubting that I’ll ever make it.

I’m sitting here thinking, sh*t, I’m right back square one, and I will be all day today, tomorrow…..I have to take things down to that “one step at a time” phase again and relearn all the things I thought I knew. Just a tad tired of this.

Now here’s a funny thing…despite knowing what to do, I’m still making bad choices. Ain’t that original! Not bad choices all the time, but often enough to negate the exercise that I’ve been doing.

I do not like to wake up angry, yet this is how I’ve been waking for more than a few weeks now. The anger is probably just frustration with myself.

Tonight I’m sitting here with a big glass of water. I came in from work famished, and grabbed a chicken salad sandwich on that 6g Arnold round bread. The chicken salad was brought to our house on Saturday night by Jess’s friends - their contribution to a braai. Odd choice if you think about it. On the other hand, it’s something I’ve eaten but never bought, and it’s pretty good. I didn’t even look at the calories, but if WW says that 1/2 prepared tuna salad with mayonnaise is 9 points, this is probably more. OY.

I think my next choice tonight will be an orange. I’m like a person quitting smoking who has to take things down to 10 minutes at a time.

I’m not really worrying too much to count points, having come full circle again - realizing (spelled that with a z, it looks funny) I have to stick to healthful foods in modest portions which is what I’ve always known would be the only thing that really works. If I’m feeling good about life and myself and happy, this is easy. If I’m stressed and sad, somehow, everything gets out of whack.

Today, not more than a few hours ago, I felt a surge of what I can only describe as a positive feeling. I know exactly where I was as the feeling spread… at the set of stop lights just outside the office complex where I work at 7:54 this morning. There is a wooded area to the left, sadly, soon to be developed into another office complex, and a golf course to the right. I was noticing the reddish haze of buds on the trees. The sun was shining, the light was in my favour, and I suddenly thought, “I can do this”.

I know exactly what to do. I always do. I always have. D’you know, I’ve been telling my girls for years that I’m a genius! “Your mother is a genius!” It’s an old joke. They always laugh…..somewhat nervously.

I’m exercising regularly these days, which is a real miracle. I’m eating fairly healthily. I’m trying to face that fear of mine - but that’s going slowly. As far as my fear of money goes, I’ve come to realise that I can only do one thing at a time. Yes, I have allowed myself to be a big bloody baby. Essentially, though, I am fully equipped with the smarts, the ability, the facts and the figures to live life to the fullest. Time to Pull Finger and just do it. Just Do It. (Hope Nike didn’t patent that phrase).

So, starting today, I’m doing it.

Will let you know how this goes.

The organising is going slowly, but progress has been made, and will continue to be made, but, sigh, at nowhere near the pace that I had hoped.

I always seem to have to learn the lesson that when a task is big, break it into smaller, more manageable pieces. You would think this would be my “go to” rule of thumb by now in this life. Nope. I must not be the brightest bulb on the tree! I haven’t yet reached to point of entering things into my “Spreadsheet of Life”! Neil has gone through most of the papers that had accumulated, and he’s filed things in their proper folders. He’s been taking a break this week, because more papers have arrived, and the new papers remain stashed in my cookbook-holder-upper in the kitchen. Neil has a couple of favourite places to stash things, and that thingy that I keep in the kitchen that holds a cookbook open and upright and protects it from splashes is a new fave. He likes the top of the microwave, too, and he likes the top of the old RCA radio, which is just near the front door. If I had my stupid fear under control, I’d go along and just take those papers myself and do the filing, and I have attempted this in the past, only to find myself shocked at the disarray downstairs in our little office. Maybe I could try this today, since the office is much neater?

So, definitely, I have not yet conquered my fear, but I haven’t given up. I’ve just reframed the time table.

Not that the above is the down side, so starting the next sentence…”On the plus side…” as I was going to do, implies that it is, and I want to remain positive. How about…. I exercised every day at work this week, which I think is a first. Usually I take Friday’s off. I’ve been doing the elliptical mostly. I get my heart rate up to between 155-161 for 30 minutes. I’m doing 1.8 - 1.9 miles, according to the machine, and again, according to the machine, this burns about 360-390 calories. I certainly sweat profusely. I have found that if I wear my little iPod shuffle that Caroline gave me for my birthday and loaded with my favourite music, and I close my eyes and do not look too often at the machine displays, the time goes by relatively fast. Here’s something nice….as each new song starts, it’s like a little gift. I get so happy to hear my faves. Sometimes I’ll press the little dial to move on to a faster song, though, and I like to regulate my speed to the song. So far, I haven’t humiliated myself and burst into song in front of the other exercisers! On Tuesday or Wednesday, instead of doing the machines, my boss and I went for a very very brisk 2 mile walk around our office campus, and in between did 4 stair climbs inside up to the fourth floor. You can feel your heart start to pound on these stair climbs! I would like to get in some pilates, just for the sake of varying things, and I’m planning to take a class on Wednesday at lunch time.

Eating is also going fairly well, but I am still finding it hard to track my points. I don’t like tracking money, so maybe this is the same thing? I also don’t like following recipes - even though I do have that holder-upper thingy in the kitchen. I’ll follow something to the letter once, maaaaybeee twice, and then all bets are off! My friend Jacqui is the total opposite, and is usually disapproving of my penchant to do things this way. Now Jacqui is very successful in all areas of her life, so maybe I should pay attention! On the other hand, just the thought of being like that strikes a chord of resistance in me. Perhaps being afraid of money and not liking to follow “rules” aren’t quite the same thing, but maybe they are related. My dad was a dreadful one for not following rules, and in the limited time I spent with him as a kid and a teen, I used to be perpetually embarrassed when he’d blatantly ignore rules.

Still in the throes of the organising. The desk is looking bare. By the end of today, order will have been achieved, and then I will go through everything, one by one, and enter it into my “Spreadsheet of Life”! All account numbers, insurance policys and important information in one summary. We realised that our wills are so old that we need to make new ones, and we need to do that grown up stuff where you appoint someone to be the executor. I think Caroline is old enough and savvy enough to be our number one choice.

I did terribly this week with my food intake. I tracked most of it using the Points Tracker on the WW website, and that’s how I know to the depths of my soul just how awfully I did! The fee for being able to access the site is $39 for a month, and you have to provide WW with your credit card number so that they can make an automatic deduction each month. I have never liked this arrangement. I would rather just pay each month. I finally caved in. I was very excited about the website and thought it would have all the points values for ordinary foods available at the click of a button, but, unless your diet consists mostly of pre-pared foods or restaurant meals, this is not the case. I also figured that since that fee also covers your weekly meeting, which is normally $12, it would be worthwhile. I think I’ll probably not continue with the website membership, but at least I’ve checked it out. I did manage to keep up with the exercise all week, and in a few minutes I’m going to weigh myself to see if my week’s worth of poor choices have permanently lodged themselves on my body.

I’d love to get outside a bit today, the sun is shining and the air temperature is practically balmy…however I’ve promised my mother I’ll take her to the shops. It shouldn’t take all day though, so hopefully we’ll get back in time to enjoy some time outside.

There was a little bit of drama today with family, between my South African family, and my mother. I am weary of this. My sister’s purpose in calling, I suspect, was to tell me about an uncomfortable situation that has developed that will - rightly so - upset our mother, and she didn’t want to deal with our mother by talking directly to her. I found myself responding in almost a detached way. I feel fine right now, too. I conveyed the message to our mother, and she reacted (as my sister knew she would) with anger, and I have been listening to her go over and over what she thinks is not right for over an hour now. I suppose after all the years of being pulled right in, not being pulled right in feels weird. My mom finally ran out of steam a few minutes ago, and I said that we should put the issue aside for the rest of the day and go out and enjoy the day. I also suggested that she write out her thoughts on paper, and offered tp help her with her correspondance (email) later. You know, writing things out long hand forces you to think a little more slowly (and carefully) about what you want to say. My mom is full of vinegar right now, and I think it’ll temper somewhat if she puts pen to paper. I’m writing out this little anecdote here as a means of showing myself that things really have changed for me. It’s hard to believe, considering all that’s happened over the years. I feel like I’ve handled my own feelings well, and it did not feel unnatural. You know what? Yay me on that score.

No, not yet. Still not there with my plans.

Bed last night….7:15 pm.

But I won’t dwell on this right now. The week is not over. If planning things in your head counts, then I’m on the upside. Neil is taking Friday off to have our van serviced and do that thingy with the sticker on the windshield - shoot, what’s that called? Anyway he is going to sort things, and I’m supposed to step in on Friday night and Saturday when he’s got some semblance of order. I’ve been tense all week over this.

Having joined the Weight Watcher’s web thingy, I tried to track my points online yesterday. I am disappointed that there are not more points values available for everyday foods. For example, I had a slice of pizza on Monday night from a local pizzeria. I don’t know if the pie was a 14″ or an 18″, but the points value is anywhere from 9 o 15. And yes, I am aware of what a lousy choice that was - I wasn’t even going to track Monday, but I decided to hold myself accountable. The website carries a lot of points values for store bought brands - pre-made food and restaurant chains and of course, all the Weight Watcher’s frozen foods and desserts. It seems to me that their frozen entrees, as well as most other brands, have ingredient lists that run into the thousands of words, many of them the names of obscure chemicals.

Monday was not a stellar day when it came to food. Tuesday was not too bad. I managed to reign myself in. One thing I did notice about the tracking was that it really brings it home when you make dumb choices. I like a cup of tea or coffee in the morning and I still use real sugar. I put 2% milk in my tea and half and half, if available, in my coffee. Trying to allocate points to this was hard. I estimated I’m using about 1/8th of a cup of milk or h&h. Then there’s the sugar, I estimate 2 tsp. I haven’t switched to skim milk or sugar substitutes because I figure it isn’t the tea and coffee that made me fat. My friend Jacqui, who is slim, figures the same thing. She never gave up on the half and half, although she doesn’t use sugar at all. Now I’m thinking I should look for the fat free half and half for our coffee. I just don’t know if I can give up the sugar. I could maybe cut it down, but I haven’t tasted a sugar substitute yet that wasn’t bitter. Even the new Truvia. Actually, that stuff is more bitter than either Equal or Splenda. And I can’t replace the 2% milk in my tea with skim. What would be the point of even having that cuppa? Instead, I limit my intake of tea or coffee to no more than two servings a day.

Yesterday instead of the gym, since the weather was so nice, I walked the grounds very briskly for 45 minutes and did 3 sets of climbing the stairs to the third floor. It seemed more strenuous to me than my usual workout on the elliptical, which I do for 30 minutes on a cardio setting at level 6. I try to get my pulse rate above 150.

Okay chickees, I can smell the coffee and I’ve got to go fold a load of laundry that I left unfinished last night.

Have a good day…

I’m not “there” yet with the facing of my fear. I went to bed tonight at 7:45, I know I was just in super avoidance mode. I’m still absurdly nervous of all of this. I’ve realised it would be better for me, better for our marriage, and good for Neil for us to do The Great Organising together. I think we need to set ourselves a mini-goal, such as, we’ll organize all the cd’s and dvd’s related to our computer and put away the junk on the credenza. If we can just get past one thing, we can build on our success.
Here’s what I think we need to do:
- we need to find our important papers (passports, etc.) and make sure they’re in a safe place. I’d likto put them in a fire-proof box.
- we need to get a handle on what insurances we have (life, auto, renters) and make sure they’re up to date and we know their value
- I need to get up the nerve to peek into my 401k, Neil into his IRA. I know, just about everyone gets nervous about THAT!
- we need to write down the numbers of all our different accounts in a summary
- we need to fill out a budget. I have a wonderful budget template in Excel. Years ago we bought Quicken, and never used it much. I’m all for going with a simple spreadsheet for now.
- we need to sit for 1/2 hour or so, every night and keep on top of the mail and the money

Here we are, both almost 50 and we need to learn and take to heart the lessons of the young. The one lesson I think we’re good at comes out of our super naivity - we work almost exclusively with cash, which is why our debt is low. We’re pretty good at delaying gratification. But we’re not making the most of our finances, we’re not getting ahead.

Food wise, I didn’t do all that well yesterday, but didn’t eat a huge amount either. While the quantity might have been low, the quality could have been better:
- an omlette for breakfast (with onion, peppers and mushroom), no bread or ketchup.
- 1/2 a tuna sandwich and a pickle for lunch - but it was a rather large sandwich, so I’m counting it as a whole.
- a good old New York “slice” for supper. Slice of pizza that is. I took Roseanne to Staples for some supplies, and I suggested we stop at the pizzeria next door. We shared a diet coke. I like pizza, but seldom have it.

I probably just barely stayed within my points. I believe 1 slice of pizza from an 18″ pie is as much as 18 points. The tuna salad is 9 and the roll it was on (whole grain) is 2. That omlette was probably about 3. Nope, actually, I went way over, my daily points limit is only 24. On the plus side I did 30 full minutes of strenuous exercise at lunch time on that elliptical, which earned me back 4 points, but I’m being conservative and will only record 3.

It’s 3:05 as I type this, and I’ve just consumed hot chocolate and two pecan cookies. Also something I rarely do.

I joined the Weight Watcher’s online program last week. It works out less expensive than just paying $12 for each week’s meeting, plus you have their extensive web application as a resource. I can plug in my food choices and find out what my whopping points are…even though I can figure it out in my head. I think you can enter your recipes and they’ll break down the points for you, I’m excited about that, if it’s true, because I don’t buy a lot of pre-prepared food. Money, points…points, money. I WILL get the hang of all of this and get my confidence back!

I’ve been trying really hard to face my fear of money in this last week.

To that end, I’ve made several forays into the black hole that is the “office” downstairs. Just by the way - did I sound like we were in terrible debt? We aren’t really, not here. What we are is just living from paycheck to paycheck, just paying the regular bills, very often unnecessarilyt late, and the tuition bills for the girls, but never saving enough to cater for a holiday, new tyres, keeping the cars serviced, a special present for a kid who has worked hard to graduate with honours, let alone an emergency.

Over the last eight years, on several occasions, I have make these forays into Neil’s boxes and bags of papers, and handled debts, to the point that, outside of tuition, and one loan that Neil took, we don’t have any anymore. Each time, though, while in the thoes of sorthing things out, I felt like it was going kill me, I was so scared and tense. I was also so mad at Neil for putting me, us, in this position through sheer negligence. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! And when I was done, the memory of that fear and tension was so strong, I stayed away. So, we don’t have much debt, but we don’t have much to lose, either, which is, I suppose, one way of looking at it. But I want a house and I want to live comfortably. I want to know I’m not going to be a bag lady at the end of all these years of working my guts out.

I think facing this whole issue and finally dealing with my fear and worry (Get Over It, Ruby!) will unblock me so I can get on with taking care of the many things, including weighing less and being more healthy, that I have been trying - with only limited success - to do. I might get some real sleep, for instance! I’ve been reading about this in a book that caught my eye - You Can Heal Your Life, by Louise Hay. I’m not usually very impressed with self-help books, I think many of them should be taken with a huge pinch (no, a cup) of salt, however, this one has some ideas that I’m finding helpful. I think I mentioned to Lynard that I thought some of it was Airy-Fairy, but much of it seems like good common sense to me.

One of the first things I did this week was own up to this fear. Name it (hah! see previous blog entry!!). The second thing I did this week was actually talk to Neil about this issue again. I long ago stopped, out of frustration because talking about it never ever made any difference. Neil would sort papers for a couple of hours, then lose energy and push it aside and never get back to it. He squirmed and looked uncomfortable and made excuses, but maybe he’ll be relieved to have a partner after he gets over feeling defensive, because I intend to be phyically there for the great sorting.

And so, while not “there” yet, I’ve taken some steps. They were a little painful, but I’m still here.

Wanna know the thing I’m most afraid of?

Money - or to be precise, not having enough money.

Of course, I never do have enough money. I do not pay attention to what is in our banking account, yet every time I even think of doing anything money related, like just look at the balances, I feel literally sick.

When I left SA to come here, it was my move. Neil was teaching high school there, loving his job, coaching and playing sport. He had a lot of free time, he was paid a very low salary, but he was happy. We were just barely making ends meet then, and I was earning probably two or three times what he was making, putting in a lot of overtime and we never had more that about $100 (at the time, R100) cash to work with after we had paid our mortgage, our bills and insurances, our children’s school fees and taxes. We did not go on holidays unless it was to family and at little or no cost, just the cost of food and transportation. We went out to eat maybe once every couple of months. I did not buy nice clothes for myself or the girls or Neil. We did not indulge in parties, entertaining, booze, or smoking. We had one car and it had balding tires. Neil was happy, but I was traumatised. At one point I gave him my engagement ring to sell so we could buy groceries. If the girls needed socks or panties - just little things - I would be panic stricken. Our sales tax at the time was 15%, our mortgage rate was over 20%, credit card was over 30%, car loan (I got a deal) was really low, only 17%.

And yes, I’m not blind, I know there were and still are people all over Africa who don’t even have one pair of shoes, running water, access to any sort of medicine, no dental, no transportation, electricity or running water, and that by comparison, our lives were heavenly. Apartheid may have ended, but things haven’t improved much for that huge segment of Africa that has nothing.

I had grown up more often in the US and Canada, and I knew it could be different. Although, gotta say, my dad walked out of his job one day when I was sixteen, and thereafter, there was no real income except from my part time jobs. One day, in SA about 8 years in to my marriage, while I was doing my Friday night grocery shop, I remember reaching for a jar of mayonnaise, or maybe it was a bottle of ketchup. My hand reached out, and I slowly pulled it back, my brain automatically calculating that the price was too high, and we should do without. At that moment, something snapped, and I thought, I can’t live like this anymore!

Cut a long story short, I applied for a job back in the States with the help of an old friend from school. I had a green card, so I figured it would be okay, plus my dad was an American citizen. Three companies expressed interest in me, but wanted me to fly out for a face-to-face interview. They didn’t know how risky that was for me. I had to quit my job, and cashed in my insurance policies. We sold pretty much everything, and I left Neil and the girls - and my mom was staying with them - and flew to the States in June of ‘93. In the end, although all three IT departments liked me and said they wanted me, their HR wouldn’t let me in because it turned out the old bluey-green green cards like mine, issued in 1966 (which did not have expiry dates), DID expire if you were out of the country too long. I was so dumb! I had no idea. I had no concept of being constrained by not having the right citizenship. Sorry, I know this is such a sensitive issue for everyone. My family had no real roots. We were born in Africa, but lived and worked in the UK, Canada and the US, and jumped back and forth between these countries all the time. I didn’t know this was that unusual. I had this blithe sense of entitlement to live and work where ever I wanted to, which I now know is not really allowed. Ultimately, I found a job with a consulting firm, but not before coming down to my last $100. I was ready to go out and be a cocktail waitress. Before I could start, the consulting firm had to advertise my job in the trade papers for six weeks to prove to the Department of Labour that I wasn’t taking a job away from an American. I went through the whole green card application from scratch, it took me four years. Meanwhile, my mom brought the girls out to the States in November of 1993, the day before Thanksgiving. I had rented a house - kind of a crummy one, but I spent the months waiting for them painting and cleaning. I had three camp cots for the girls, a blow up mattress for me, and I bought a bed for my mom. Neil had to finish up the school year in Africa, which ends in December. He came over in January of 1994. I had found and bought a car for $100! Things were okay, we were surviving. We probably looked poorer than what we were because that second Thanksgiving the Hillsdale Helping Hands food pantry sent us a food box complete with a turkey, ham, coffee and canned grocery staples. I was utterly mortified. If there’s one thing that has never been lacking here in the States (or in any home I’ve lived in), it’s good, fresh, home-cooked, wholesome food. The people who sent the food probably don’t eat as well as we do. Ironically, I am a volunteer shopper for them now.

Ah well. The saga continues. Neil was not allowed to work, since he only had what they call an H4 visa, for the four years it took to process our green cards. I met a lot of other people like me in those years who had come here to work in IT, but most of them were single or newly married with no children. We had waited too long to make that move. All of these friends are well entrenched now in homes, while we still rent. Our plan was for Neil to get his US teaching qualifications, he only needed a few credits here, and he started with UNISA, but after about a month, he gave up. I was bitterly, bitterly disappointed about that. After we got our green cards, he worked as an electrician (before teaching in SA, he had done an electrical apprenticeship for Goodyear, and even had a wiring license over there). The best he could get here was work as an electrician, but again, his qualifications aren’t really recognized here, so always at low pay. He’s got a fairly good position now at a local college in their maintenance department. He’s been there for five years, and so he’s entitled to write the test to be licensed here (you have to have five years contiguous employment - that’s one of the requirements here). I was also excited when he got this job because if he wanted to go to classes, he could for free. As it has happened though, once our girls started university, we were almost as cash strapped as in SA, and Neil has worked for others with private businesses non-stop on the week-ends for a couple of years now. He doesn’t play sport any more, hasn’t for years, is working himself physically much too hard, and he’s not happy - he never says as much, but I remember how happy he used to be.

At first, in 1993, I had all our accounts neatly filed and took very careful care of it all. I’m very neat and tidy and methodical, but once Neil arrived and wasn’t working, he took over that part. I still do all the cooking and cleaning and he does the yard work, takes care of the accounts and the guy stuff. Pretty traditional arrangement. Only thing is, he hates the accounting part, and does it badly. I’ve known for a long time - more than 8 years, that I need to take it over, and actually, I have taken over some of the bigger things, but every time I approach it, I feel physically ill.

What have I been doing to avoid this sick, ill, sinking feeling? This feeling like we’re never going to have a home of our own, that we’ll never get ahead, be able to retire, or go on a vacation….I throw myself into the house, I clean everything to within an inch of its life (well, I used to, slowed down a bit there), I throw myself into cooking, I eat too much and, the worst thing is that I have my wine, too much of it, and I’ve gained all this weight! All just to avoid being “the one”. You want to know a huge irony? I preside over a system at work that pays out millions and millions of dollars a month, and I know exactly to whom, for what and how every damn penny was credited or debited and then paid.

Finally, WHY, WHY do I have this terrible fear?
My writing about all of this is my attempt to de-mystify it all for myself. I do think this all started with the troubles in my parents’ home. There was no money after I turned 16, after years of relative prosperity. Both parents came from very very poor families, but they had done well - financially at least. I don’t think you could meet a more miserable pair of human beings. Both of them so damaged - and yet, I knew they loved each other and me and my sister. My mom always explained that the “troubles” were because my dad had put himself under too much pressure through work and that’s why he started drinking and that’s why he finally walked out his job like he did. But now, when I look back, I think - sh*t, he had just one kid at home, me, and a wife who handled the books expertly and kept our home and garden pristine. They owned their home. It must have been more than that or something else. Later, in Africa, I deeply resented Neil having so much fun while I had none. I didn’t know how to tell him in a way that would make a difference. Ag, we were both so young. What I did know in my heart that if we were to leave Africa, it would all of it be totally up to me, and I was so tired from having three babies and still being the major bread winner, so I delayed it for years. Twelve years, to be exact.

And here we are, and I still can’t face it.

I believe I will be stuck, I’ll never get healthy, I’ll never really lose my weight, I’ll never be happy unless I face this mess. But why am I so scared? Is it laziness? Even typing this makes me feel like there’s a fist on my chest.

How to you get past a fear of money?

Good things do happen sometimes.

I woke up early this morning, and came downstairs to check email. To my honest surprise, my sister decided to finally apologise to our mum! She sent quite a nice email, and had copied me in. I was very proud of her, and I did write to her and I told her so. Who knows? Maybe this is the beginning of some long overdue healing between them. I consider this a breakthrough.

It’s been long, busy day, I finally arrived home after a stop at the shops first, and only a few minutes ago, I finally had a chance to have a quick chat with my mum. I asked her if she had seen her email today, and she said, “well, ye-es, actually, I did receive couple of emails from Brenda….” I asked if she had had a chance to answer them yet, and she hemmed and hawed a bit, “well, no-o, I wanted to tidy for you so that all would be nice for Caroline, and I wanted to do…..(this and that and the other thing) and it was running late, and…..” I noodged; “Mum, you need to answer Brenda. She’s becoming hurt that she keeps reaching out and doesn’t hear anything from you.”
At this, her voice rose and pointing her finger, softly hammered her chest, “She’s hurt! What about me! I was hurt when she didn’t even arrange to take me to the airp…”
“Stop!” I interrupted, “I know about that, we’ve been over it a thousand times. Don’t go there anymore, Mum! Just answer your daughter!”

Now, I am absolutely aware that speaking to my mother like this could go over like a lead balloon, but somehow she took it fairly well. I’m going to have to be more strict in future. It seems to be working.

Meanwhile, I had a dismal food day. Actually the food was nice, but dismal if you’re looking at it from a Weight Watchers points point of view. Once I finally get the hang of the points, I will switch to what they used to call “Core”, and now call “Filling Foods”. I just want to be paying attention for awhile until I’ve absorbed the points lesson, or, the point of the the points!

That’s it from me for today. I have three movies to watch while I wait for Caroline. Well, two, actually one was requested by Roseanne and Jessica, who seem to be on speaking terms. The movie they asked me to rent is “Zack and Miri Make a Porno”, which, oddly, doesn’t appeal to me.

I have rented “Australia” and “American East”. I am about to start “American East” - it won’t appeal to Neil and my mum or the girls, although if it’s any good, I guarantee they’d enjoy it. They’ve watched a lot of the indie flicks that I’ve brought home over the years, usually after great protest and quite frequently they ended up liking the film. They’re pretty well rounded in their film repertoire, although they don’t know it. No, I’ll save “Australia” for when Neil gets home. He’s visiting a friend tonight, not the elderly guy who used to be our neighbor, but a friend he used to work with when we first arrived. It’s a guys night out. They both like hockey, and I think Neil could use a break from all the women in this house.

Neil is not looking well, and I’m worried about him. He’s too thin, and he looks tired and worn. I have to make a plan. First thing tomorrow, I’m buying him some moisturiser (unscented Oil of Delay?). I’ll be making a doctor’s appointment for him next week, and he’s going to start taking vitamins whether he likes it or not. I’m going to up our fish intake.

Yes, I know. I’m becoming extremely bossy. It feels quite nice!

Darlings, do you mind if I tell you, one more time, a sad, family story? I promise you, it has relevance to weight loss efforts and I’ll segue the family drama to an apt point about willpower…..(I hope)….

Today I called my sister in South Africa early in the a.m., in that time of the day that I’ve come to cherish, where only a few people are in at the office and it’s quiet and I can gather my thoughts and take care of a few personal things. I feel obliged to mention that, lest you think I’m stealing from the company’s phone account, I use a service at www.nobelcom.com or maybe it’s noblecom, and I have a pin that I type in and it doesn’t cost my company a cent. I top up my account with $20 every other month, just so that in case I need to call Africa from work, I can.

Brenda…that’s my sister, has been sending cheery, friendly emails to our mother, offering up tidbits of her life and the new and wonderful things she’s learning to do, and how her new husband Paul is so supportive, and what a wonderful cook he is and….well you get the picture. Our mum, Iris, has not yet responded to the most recent batch of emails. She’s not buying any of it, and has nothing much to say that is in any way positive about any of it either, which is a shame, I think. During our phone call, Brenda mentioned our mum’s lack of response, to which I offered that I’m sure she would soon write back, that she’s just slowing down. Somehow, though, that whole wound from last year opened up again. Brenda continued that she knew our mother was just giving her the cold shoulder, that she accepts that our mother has “cut her dead”, because that’s what our mother does when you don’t dance to her tune (Brenda’s words, not mine). The sad thing is, Brenda’s not far off, but she’s wrong if she thinks our mother doesn’t love her. I told her that I know she’s loved. I’m sure of it. I offered, yet again, my observation that maybe if she’d just have apologised for what happened….. Oops. Big mistake. That made her really mad, and she started to rant. I couldn’t even get one single word in. It is my sister’s contention that she had no control over things that occurred last year and that our mother should have been more supportive of what she was going through. She pointed out that our mother has done some awful things over the years (she was pretty graphic) and that no one demanded an apology, so why should she apologise? Actually, Brenda didn’t say apologise, she said grovel. Brenda’s not entirely wrong about our mother, I truly know she’s not totally right either. First of all, Brenda really was responsible for at least some of what happened, our mother is almost 80 years old, and out of respect for that, an apology would have been appropriate. To be honest, and I said this, if anyone was waiting for an apology it is me. I hold my sister to a high standard. Our mum doesn’t expect an apology, but it is for the saddest of reasons…she doesn’t hold Brenda to that kind of standard. It would have been appropriate. It’s what GROWN UPS do! I never got to say this though. Brenda is holding on to some pretty huge and serious anger at our mother for things she remembers Iris doing (or not doing), but at the same time she’s desperate for validation and approval. Therein lies the rub:
Brenda cannot think of apologising, and our mother will never readily give her approval. Neither of them will get what they want. Brenda is not entirely wrong about our mum. June Cleaver she’ll never be. Shortly after our call, Brenda sent an angry and emotional email to our mum, copying me in. Oy!

How is it that I love, LOVE, them both and yet I could literally shake each of them until their teeth rattle?

After work, I arrived home and went in to dear Iris’ room to say “hi”, and while I was hugging her hello, she suddenly burst into tears. Nothing at all to do with my sister….she said to me that she just feels terribly depressed and doesn’t know why. I was relieved she hadn’t seen the email from my sister, she would have been a thousand zillion times worse, and chickees, I’m all alone here when it comes to dealing with the fallout, and it is never easy.

So, what did I do?

1. Well, much earlier on in the day, since I felt frustrated because my sister wouldn’t even let me explain anything, I wrote a strongly worded email trying to explain, again, why I thought an apology would have been appropriate. In the end, though, I held on to my email for a couple of hours. After I cooled down, I composed what I hoped was a more conciliatory email and sent that instead.

2. I logged on to my mom’s email and deleted my sister’s email and emptied the trash. Iris will never see it.

Okay,
Bzzzzzzt!
I know, wrong. Unethical. Could I be charged in court? Was that mail fraud?

3. Once home, after issuing a few “there, theres” and engaging in some firm shoulder patting, I cajoled my mom out of her room, inviting her to chat to me while I cooked. And, no, I know what you’re thinking. Don’t bother to go there….I don’t expect her to cook for us, although she does occasionally try. Warm and loving she may not always be, but lazy, never. Frankly, she’s been having trouble cooking for awhile now. She uses up a week’s worth of ingredients and manages to overcook pretty much everything, and then feels terrible about it and apologetic and it all just gets her more depressed - it’s better if she doesn’t cook. Trust me. Besides, it’s one thing that I truly love doing anyway. Iris cheered up immensely, and while in the kitchen, found the strength to pass on her observations about the things around our house that need attending to, that are shamefully un-taken-care-of and so on…and she remembered in detail some of the mean people who have done her wrong.
6. Six? Goes to show you, bad day.
I ate. Two chicken legs with skin on (even though I had done skinless boneless portions for myself), a hearty helping of spinach with cream sauce (I never make this, but tonight I did because Neil loves it, even though I had planned ahead and set aside some without cream sauce - and oh, God, I made a cream sauce to die for) and a hearty dollop of mashed potato. We’re talking 3/4 of a day’s worth of WW points. I also poured myself wine.
Hmmmmmmm!!!!?????.

Right after dinner, while NOT helping with the clean-up, Roseanne and Jessica had a fight over stolen clothing in each other’s closets. Jessica flung about her horrible swear words, and even though her voice is louder and more strident (really, she and Ethel Merman are in the same league) and she swears and you want to throttle her, Roseanne cut her to the quick with this quietly spoken but deadly little arrow: “I don’t need to argue with you! You’re not smart enough to even bother arguing with.” Aaaaaaaaaaargh. That’ll do Jessica the Bolshevik in for a week! She can be so horrible, but she is terribly terribly sensitive. And she’s not stupid. Work ethic not so hot, but not stupid.

So I poured another glass of wine.

Round, I think, said she’s documenting her patterns, looking for the places where she makes mistakes. I read that and thought, ooooh, good idea. Apply the kind of analysis you use for work and business to your daily decision making process. I think I’ll try that! Hey!

NEWS FLASH! I think I found something here!

Okay, if you’ve read through my whole, long winded (as usual) blog, I’ll tell you two extra nice things that happened today:

1. I noticed that Neil loves me.
2. I received a completly unexpected bonus check from my company.

and here’s a bonus….
Carolina Moonie Junie is coming up from Virginia tomorrow after work to visit and pack things for her new home - she and two friends found a house in North Arlington.

All of us, Neil, the stressed husband of the stressed me, Roseanne and Jessica and Iris adore Caroline, and we can’t wait for her to be home.

Ah, Tuesday. In at the office, a little early, so I have time to settle myself, get coffee, check email and maybe type a little bit into this blog. I’ve left the blogging part a little late, so I may have to cut it short and come back later.

When I walked in this morning I was greeted by my blooming paperwhites! They look so pretty and springy. I didn’t know that their scent was so strong. (Actually, between you me and the gate post, they kind of remind me of wet, urine soaked nappies, or, something electrical burning - oh well….) I went back to K-Mart on Saturday with my friend Jacqui - I persuaded her to go there to look for scratching posts for her new cat, now renamed Cleo. Jacqui likes higher end places, and is generally loathe to set foot in K-Mart, which is one of my stand by favourites for cheap things. I found another paperwhite kit, as well as an amaryllis kit, both marked down from $14.99 to $2.49. Such a deal! Well, only if they’re not dead, I suppose. I bought the extra paperwhite kit for my boss, who had mentioned that if I saw one would I please pick one up for her. I forgot it in my car this morning, hope it doesn’t freeze to death. It was only 12 F when we left the house at 7:30.

About 10 or more years ago, I bought a kit containing an amaryllis bulb, some dirt and a pot at another discount store, The National Wholesale Liquidators Warehouse. That store is near Hackensack/Lodi here in North Jersey, and when you go there, you see a lot of immigrants from Latin America and Eastern Europe shopping for deals. I feel right at home there! At the time, I had noticed lovely amaryllis blooms being sold in a couple of places, but when I priced them they were steep…as much as $25 for a flowering bulb. The $2.79 price tag on that dusty little box at the Warehouse was right up my frugal (cheapskate) alley. I brought it home, set it up and it started to grow rapidly, sending up long green leaves. The box had a picture of a white and pink bloom, and I waited excitedly for it to show, but it never did. After about 5 years of this, the plant with its long green leaves looked full but it had still not bloomed. I was going to chuck it in the garbage, but I didn’t. I had repotted it several times and lavished love and attention on it, and I was mad at it for letting me down! Anyway - we moved to our present home and I lugged the durn thing with me and put it on the sunny windowsill in the living room, and the second year in our new home, in late January, it produced four spectacular flowers. Every year since then, it has produced a beautiful show for us and I notice that it seems to be propagating itself, if propagating means there are more plants than what I started with. I didn’t know that could happen. I thought there had to be bees or male plants around, like with with avocados. This year we’ve had two shows so far of at least eight blooms and I see more are forming. My mom has become emotionally attached to this plant, and speaks of it with reverence as one of God’s beautiful creations. She looks forward to its yearly show. I told my boss about this, because she said she receives an amaryllis kit every year as a Christmas gift from her mom, and sometimes she’ll get a bloom, sometimes not, then she throws the plant away because she thought they were purely seasonal, like poinsettias. I’ve never known much about this sort of thing, so in my ignorance, I always just left the plant out, all through the year. Just goes to show you, sometimes ignorance works in your favour.

Don’t know what the point of that story was, just felt like telling it. I don’t know……Good things come to those who wait? All in good time? Be patient? Don’t give up? Was this for me? Must be.

Joy, I did not use canned broth in my soup, but the Goya vegetable seasoning is vegetable broth boullion. For the 10 or so quarts, I used 4 packets of the Goya vegetable and (I forgot to say) two packets of the Goya chicken & tomato boullion. I happen to like this particular product from Goya, and always make sure to have some on hand. I think each packet is equivalent to 2 cups of broth. I wanted to make the soup as light as possible, since I know it’s the one thing I can have without guilt, I can even have two cups. Because of using the boullion, I didn’t really have to salt the soup too much, just added freshly ground black pepper. My family liked the soup.

Thanks for the words of encouragement on healing from my nemesis, my weakness, my ball and chain. It’s a process, that’s for sure. Even as I sit here enjoying the paperwhites, my cup of coffee and typing my blog, I feel a sense of unease. I would very much like it to go away for a little while and leave me in peace.

I have to track what I’m eating - later today I’ll work on yesterday and today.

This’ll be interesting. I just found out that 1/2 cup of prepared tuna salad is a whopping 7 points. The bread I’m using, from Trader Joe’s, had 6g of fiber and is 100 cals per slice, so that’s another 2 pts.

I wonder how many points my rusks come to? I made them smaller than usual, and I’ve had two today. I wasn’t planning to, but they were THERE.

Thank goodness for my soup! It is essentially free - 0 pts per cup. When you’re starving, two cups will go a long way to sating your hunger.

10:30 ish
Well, I’ve solved a problem for work, chatted in email with my boss and I’ve made about 10 quarts of vegetable soup. Sounds like a big deal, but all I did was zoom through the vegetable drawers in the fridge, and pulled out carrots, zuchini, cabbage, spinach, a little piece of butternut squash (pet peeve: Neil made potjie a couple of days ago - why does he always leave one little piece like that - it just vrots in the fridge?), celery and parsely. From the vegetable baskets: onion and 3 cloves of garlic. I washed everything, peeled the carrots quickly - filled the sink up with vegetable peels, and put the washed & peeled veg in a big bowl (10 minutes). Then, put a pot on with a little bit of olive oil, and quickly chopped everything into the pot, starting with the onions and garlic, celery and parsley, then added the carrots, zuchini and cabbage. Opened two big tins of crushed tomatoes, added water to fill the pot. Seasoned as I went along with fresh pepper and salt. I also added some packets of Goya vegetable seasoning. All in all, another 10 minutes. Boom, done, finished.

Back to the PC, and a quick pop in here. The soup is for lunch. I am starving already, and I do not want to scarf down rusks or graze - I HAD to make that soup, or I won’t make it through the day.

There’s enough there to freeze in portions for work, too. That’ll keep me going for a couple of weeks.

7:30 ish…
The week-end was a bust when it comes to eating well for weight loss. I think my PMS is kicking in, too, although it’s hard to tell, since I seem to be all over the place with hormones. But, my boobs hurt and my appetite is huge, and those are my classic symptoms. In any event, I “embraced” them and ate way too much especially yesterday. Jessica brought home some zeppolis and although I have announced that a sweet tooth is not my problem, I ate at least four of that deep fried, fat filled dough, covered in powdered sugar. When there was only one left, I decided, oh What The Heck! and ate it with a sort of grim resignation.

So today is meant to be start-with-a-clean-slate day.
We’ve woken up to about 3 inches of snowfall, and a bitter wind. The town sirens are going off as I type to let the kids know there’s no school. I could work from home, but I think I’ll just go in as soon as our road is plowed.

I don’t think I have S.A.D., although winter does exacerbate feelings of depression for me. Actually, that’s probably true for most people. Two posts ago, I mentioned that I had tried taking medication again; that was in January, but I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t even finish the prescription. To be honest, I haven’t had good experience with medication. It doesn’t seem to make that much difference for me, and therefore, I keep thinking I might as well learn how to deal with it without the meds. I did find that Effexor worked, about two years ago - but I just felt eerily numb. Wait a minute - learn how to deal with it without the meds? I’ve been “dealing” with it for almost my whole life. Oh, I know how to deal. In fact “Deal” is my one word personal philosophy. It covers everything you can think of, don’t you think? Most people who know me would be surprised to know that I struggle with depression - and that is the result of “dealing”. I know how to put on a really good show. Where are the Academy Awards people when you need them! No, I should have said heal, not deal.

As I sit here typing my little blog, I am not depressed. My feet are cold, my back feels a bit stiff because I’m sitting funny, but I’m certainly not in the depths of despair. Ha! I save that for the wee hours!!! I’m trying to decide what to do next. Have a bath, get dressed, go in to the office or work from home?

See now, there’s the perfect opportunity for me to remember how blessed I am. I am thankful that I still have a job, that I live in a nice house (albeit with an ugly bathroom). I can take a hot steamy bath whenever I want to. I can find out what’s going on in the world with a click of a button, I have people around me who I love and who love me. I can work on the problems that are worrying me, and I will eventually solve them.

Food today will be oatmeal and prunes for breakfast. Tuna on wholewheat for lunch, but I don’t know about dinner and snacks. If I don’t get to the office, I’ll take Maya for a really long walk.

I should have made a big pot of vegetable soup - maybe if I stay home, I will.

G’day to you all, may it be filled with many blessings.
Ruby

Hello, vernaand is nie te sleg nie. Ek en Neil het saam biskuit gemaak (rusks)… Weed jy hoe wonderlik is dit? Asook, Ouma se kamer bietjie mooi gemaak, met ‘n oudtyd se kas.

Hier is wat ek wil vir julle vertel…dit is baie belangrik…..Moet nooit skaam vol vir jou agter grond nie.

Ek vertel jou die waarhied - altyd.

RubyJean (of, as my Ouma Kruger (Pa se Ma (not the wealthy African Krugers (too bad))) het gese, Sandrina!)

Verskoon die spel, Neil het my gehelp.

I’ve just come in from a busy Saturyday morning, it’s now 12:43, and I thought I’d pop down here and try and inspire myself. I went to the chiropractor, Weight Watchers and had an early lunch with my friend Jacqui. Jacqui had to have her very much beloved cat, Holly, euthanised on Thursday. Holly was 12, I think, and had been living quite successfully with a kidney problem for the last couple of years, but it flared up and she became very ill last week. Jacqui, needless to say, was devastated. Having just gone through this ourselves with Shelby in September, I understand how much this is hurting. Oddly enough, although Jacqui wasn’t intending to give another cat a home right away, somehow she received an email about a little 6 month old cat named Hope, in a local shelter. She went to see Hope this morning, and of course, you know the end result. Jacqui will be fetching her this afternoon. After our lunch we went to look for a scratching post.

And that brings me to now. I’m kind of tired, but I think I’m going to go upstairs and bake some rusks, which Neil and the girls enjoy having with their coffee in the morning. I bought gray paint for my upstairs bathroom, and was planning to do that sometime this week end too. Doesn’t gray sound awful? The owners of the house we rent  recently redid the tiles in that bathroom because behind the old 1950’s pink tiles, the sheetrock was rotting and a leak had sprung. I know people who rent houses don’t want to spend alot, and the couple that own this house are actually very nice people - BUT - they picked the cheapest white tile and hired a handyman who is not a tiler to do the task. Not only did he do a sloppy job, he used gray grout! It looks absolutely awful. Now, mind you, the house was built in 1960, and that bathroom still has the original fixtures. The floor tile is a Pepto Bismol pink, and the bathtub, toilet and sink are a salmon pink. The counter top around the sink is also pink, that ancient formica with a gold fleck. It is u-u-u-gly. If you’re going for that retro look, you could maybe work with it - you’d have a room with um…personality, which is what we had before. But that stark white tile has made it rather difficult to work the retro angle. So. I thought, if I paint the ramaining walls a soft gray to sort of match the grout, and buy a white cotten shower curtain with scalloped edges - what’s that called when there’s stiching around the scalloping, and some stictching around little holes just above? - oh yeah, Battenburg lace. White curtains, white towels and white ceramic soap dish etc… it might just look okay. Oh, and white mats. I’m kind of ignoring the whole pink, Pepto Bismol thing. Anyway, anything is better than how it looks now. So, that’s one spring project.

We have not had people over since Jacqui came on Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year. I have been struggling with this blasted depression. I don’t even tell Neil or my mom or anyone anymore because I feel like a broken record, a boring, weak willed whiner! Trust me, nobody wants to hear about this, not even me. I’ve been dragging it around like an invisible ball and chain. I tried going back on medication, but it never really helps. There is a link between my attitude and my weight. That’s for damn sure. Hopefully all these spring projects I have in mind will get the house looking nice and I’ll feel happier about having people over.

Like I said a couple of days ago, if I go through the motions (and I have been trying, all this time, but obviously not enough), eventually I’m hoping that the activity - or the results of my activity - will make me feel better.

So, I’m off to bake and paint.

I haven’t been to Weight Watchers, by the way, since November. The meetings are always good. The woman who leads is absolutely marvellous. She speaks so well and is so intelligent. I take a lot away from these meetings. What did she say that struck me today???? Oh yes, it’s amazing what we get up to when there’s no personal accountability. She was encouraging us to use our food trackers. From that, I take away more than just an exhortation to track what I am eating. Something pricked at the edge of my conciousness when she said that, and I know I need to have a good long think about personal accountability, and what it means to me and how it plays out in my life. Hmmmmmmmmm.

I’ll get back to you on that one.

A little while ago as I was leaving the office loo, I glanced up at the big mirror over the sinks and saw a plump, tired looking woman with a strained expression around her eyes looking back at me. I just ducked my head down an bolted for the door. I’m still fighting with myself about the way I look. Part of me wants to just relax and get on with my life. This is who you are, this is how you look, so what? Another part of me is hanging on for dear life to the fading image of myself as an attractive, desirable woman.

Geez, I came in here thinking I have a half an hour left of my lunch time, lets see what I can write to inspire myself. I’ll have to try a little harder.

I’ve still not returned to the gym, which is worrying me a little. I am being careful with my lower back. I want to be sensible and heal before attempting any marathon sessions on that elliptical. Even though an ellipitical is designed to avoid too much pressure on the joints, I think I was a bit too gung-ho the last few times I was on it and I realize you can still hurt yourself. I’ve also decided that I won’t sign up for any more of the Pilates classes offered at this particular gym. The young woman who is the instructor was sweet and very freindly but not professional. It’s amazing how you change, you know….I would never have thought of this years ago, but after all this time working in a high pressure environment, I take exception when people are late and worse, unprepared, as this woman was. She explained that she has very tiny kids at home, and couldn’t get out of the door on time, and I do remember how that can be. She forgot her music and her boom box, and spent the first 10 minutes finding and asking another instructor for a loan. Meanwhile, those of us on our lunch breaks had to leave the class early, before the cool down. Even though I felt the instructor was unprofessional, I let myself try moves that I haven’t done in a long while and should be thoughtfully taught and carefully done. I have a friend who teaches Yoga, and she is always very watchful of her students as they learn new poses. She walks around the room checking to see if anyone is not aligned correctly, or looks like they’re straining their necks, backs or knees, and she’ll pop a bolster underneath you somewhere if she feels it will help, and always provides alternative ways to do the pose for those who are not quite ready. This young lady had the class doing moves that I recognize from my Yoga classes that really do need to be done carefully for newbies. I think I’m going to call my friend and ask if I can pick up a couple of her beginner classes. The next time I’m on that elliptical, I will be reasonable with myself, and twenty minutes will be good enough at a moderate pace.

Looks like the theme of the day is moderation and patience. Or maybe it’s being a grown up.

I can be moderate. I am patient. I can do that. I’m a grown-up.

(PS, changed back to the Blue Moon theme…I like it the most - if you decide to comment, let me know…is the text readable? Bright enough?)

Good Wednesday Morning, friends. First day of Lent.

I haven’t been long in the office yet, just long enough to chat with my boss about chiropractors and put on the kettle for a cup of tea.

I went to the chirpractor at 7am this morning, and was there for about 45 minutes. I had hurt my lower back (maybe it was that Pilates class I took), and he’s working on it. He has taken x-rays and tells me I have osteoarthritis in my spine, that the condition has been there for some time, and I moved in some way that inflamed it. So! This year so far has brought a few health issues to me, but nothing that can’t be taken care of. I’m 47, and I still intend to be running, yes running, around for a good few more years. My cryoablation procedure is scheduled for April 6th, and I’m nervous, but hopefully that’ll put an end to, or at least greatly reduce, the inconvenience of having to buy jumbo packs of Kotex! I’ve been doing little bits of research on what to do to improve the osteoarthritis, and guess what, here’s a surprise………..the best thing you can do is keep your weight down and keep mobile. Gentle, daily stretching is recommended.

I had heard of taking glucosamine and chondroitin supplements, but it appears that there is no conclusive evidence that they help. The consensus seems to be, find a quality product, try it for two or maybe three months, and if you don’t notice improvement, don’t bother taking more.

Middle age! Bring it on, baby!

I thought maybe coming here to blog this morning would give me a push to start focusing again on the weight loss. Although I’ve been exercising, I’ve been eating more or less anything I want over the last three months. I suppose, luckily for me, I love all fruits and vegetables and fish and really do only eat red meat in moderation. I’m not crazy about fried things, although when I have them, I do like them. I don’t have a terrible sweet tooth. I’ve come to the conclusion that my portions are too hearty. I am going to be watching this very closely over the next few days.

Because of hurting my back, I’ve actually avoided the gym this week, and I have not even attempted to take a walk. If you saw me, you’d see a person with the gait of a much older person. I’m feeling better today, and will attempt something either at lunch time, or after work. Just a slow walk to get some fresh air and sunshine.

Recently, to cheer myself up, I bought some paper white bulbs - actually, they came in a kit with a bowl and stones. I came across them by chance at the K-Mart near our home, orginally $14.99 for Christmas, but the last of the Christmas stuff had been marked down and placed in a clearance aisle. So, my kit was $2.79. I bought two, one for the house, and one for my desk. They looked a little dubious - dusty and dried out. Amazingly, the ones on my desk are shooting up. They look like asparagus stalks right now, and I am enjoying watching their progress. I must remember to check the ones at home. On Sunday I moved them from the dining room table which tends to be a little bit dark, to the window sill in the living room that gets full sun all morning. I wanted them to feel encouraged by the sun. I’ve forgotten about them the last two nights. With my sore back and my low mood, I’ve been arriving home, having a bite to eat, a warm bath and hopping in to bed before 7pm because I can’t think of anything I want to do or say. Tonight I’ll try to hang out a bit longer, I’m even thinking of attending a Eucharist for Lent.

I read something quite wonderful this morning, while getting ready for work. It was in last year’s February edition of the the magazine Real Simple. I want to tell you about it, but first let me set the stage….I’ve been struggling with many things lately, and the struggle alone has been wearing me out. One of the first things to be neglected when I get like this is my commitment to my faith, and with that eventually my faith in God wavers, and of course with that, pretty much everything else starts to seem stale and flat. So here I am, this morning, rushing a bit, leaving just enough time to have a quick cup of coffee before leaving, and while I was sipping, I reached over and pulled the magazine open. My boss keeps bringing me old and new copies of magazines, so I have quite a lot lying around.  The first sentence of the article just grabbed me….and I want to say that not only am I lucky to have 3fc to write in and stay focused and hopefully be stronger, which is really quite a gift, but that something like this caught my eye on a day like today - well that’s also a gift…..

If you’re at all interested, I cast around on Google to see if I could find a copy, but had very little luck, until I stumbled on a serman written by a woman in Michigan last March. She quotes the part of the article that blew me away, too. Think of this as quotes within quotes:

 
” An article titled, “After God Left: Embracing Doubt,” in the February issue of Real Simple, caught my eye. In it Alison Smith writes, “I lost my faith in God while sitting on the laundry hamper in the upstairs bathroom of my childhood home on July 28, 1984. I was 15 years old, and my big brother Roy, had died in a car accident the day before. . . .Losing Roy was the hardest thing that had ever happened to me. Losing God was the second hardest.”

Allison and her family had been devout Catholics, daily worshipping, praying, and reading the scriptures. Alison continued, “[After that] God was silent, I spent a lot of time standing in the backs of churches on those days, watching as the congregation sang and prayed and thinking, I remember faith.”

A fresh breath came for Alison many years later as a fellow writer told her about her interview on doubt with the mother superieor of a cloistered Carmelite convent.

“The mother superior of a Carmetlite convent has doubt?”

“Great doubt. She says she struggles with it every day.” It’s the hardest part of her life.

Alison recounted, “I owned a number of books about the lives of saints. I had occasionally flipped through them and read the stories of powerful faith. Wholly, passionately, uncompromisingly, they believed. Or that’s what I had noticed; I had read them to remind myself of how much I had lost. After I got off the phone with my friend, I reread those same stories. But this time I paid more attention to one crucial detail: Nearly all the saints had gone through a period of struggle—a “dark night of the soul.” They all doubted. All around me, the great believers had wrestled, and I had not seen it.

I started to take a closer look at my doubt. It’s given me many gifts . . . sometimes when I think something is ending, it’s actually just beginning.” (pp 65-68, Alison Smith, “After God Left: Embracing Doubt, Real Simple, February 2008 ”

http://www.uumc-msu.org/sermons_folder/sermon033008.htm That’s the full sermon, “Embracing Doubt” by Alice M. F. Townley, March 30, 2008

Been awhile, hasn’t it? Since my last enthusiastic post about getting back on track, I think I have done just the opposite. Funny how that always happens, aye? Well, at least with me. The minute I utter those words…. ”getting back on track”, “pulling my socks up”, “pulling myself together”, the top of the slippery slope appears, and I start to slide right down. Actually, I haven’t totally lost track, it’s not not that bad. I’ve just been dangling over edge of that high railway bridge, holding on for the last three months, trying not to completely lose my grip.

My weight has climbed back up to 191. At least that’s what I was at my last weigh in on February 2nd. In recent photographs, it seems like the extra weight has made its way to my face. For a vain woman, (yes, me) that’s a killer.

I’m still exercising at least 4 out of 7 days a week, though. I’ve gone from marching around the building where I work, and up and down the stairs, to joining the gym in the building. I do about 30 minutes on the elliptical most days, then 10 minutes in the sauna and a quick shower and back to my desk. I recently went to two of their Pilates classes, and boy, that’s a workout for me. Yesterday it was mild outside, and I took a brisk walk around the campus, and up and down the stairs - up to the fourth floor. I thought the elliptical work would have made me have more stamina, but I felt very tired and winded. The tiredness could be related to having about a two month long visit from …. what’s that old expression? Auntie Rose? And she’s a heavy visitor, too! Sorry, I grew up in a time where it was uncomfortable to be straight about some things, especially public, and if this isn’t public, don’t ask me what is. That should all be sorted out soon. I’ve been to have it all checked, and there are solutions. Barring any unforseen results of tests, I can have something called a cryoablation, which will put a stop to, or greatly diminish, any further visits from said unwelcome Auntie. Maybe from the exercise, though, a postive thing is that my blood pressure has been stable, at 120/80 for a good long while now, without taking any medication.

Food wise, not doing wonderfully. I’m starving ALL the time! But then, I seem to permanently have the symptoms of PMS, and I suspect there is a connection. 

Anyway…my goals with regard to food haven’t wavered. I still try to get in the 5 servings of fruit and veg,  4 carbs, 2 proteins and lots of water each day. I can’t abide bad food, junk food or fast food or fake food or not enough food. The idea of utilizing products like those Weight Watcher meals or Jenny Craig or some Nutri-whatsits does not appeal to me. I chose life! (It does occur to me that along with that choice, I may have to make peace with not being that thin.) Ellabella advised me that we need to make peace with our looks, and if you feel beautiful at a weight that’s not what the media endorses, then so be it. I can live with that.

The last months have been sad ones, and I’m hoping that this will change. I know that this is up to me. I can wallow, or I can get up off my tarrara and do something. Here are the “some” things that I am planning: Today I signed up for a three day class in pie making at the local community school (not exactly diet friendly, aye?). I’m still tryingt to knit and I want to crochet, also. I am planning to clear out all of the extra “stuff” from our home and make it look peaceful, inviting and still elegant. I want to go through all my clothing with a discerning friend (anyone wanna come and visit?) and piece together pretty outfits and throw out or donate the rest. I want to fix my hair colour (again!) it’s too light.  I’ve decided to make a recipe book for my daughters using photographs (from family celebrations) and handed down recipes, which I will type out. Snapfish.com has a software product you can use to make a real book. I suppose there are others out there, too. Oh the possibilities! Caroline made one for my mum for Christmas, and it is stunning, and gave my mum such a lot of pleasure. I’m writing, but only snippets, by hand, in a diary that I keep by the side of the bed. My taking a writing class idea is still there, but I never did actually sign up for anything. I started a book club. Did I mention this before? We read Gilead as our first book. Poor choice for the two women who are in the book club with me. My friend J. prefers lighter fiction, and does not relate well to religious themes. Her friend Mary, well, we’ll see what she says. The best part will be when we get together and have our wine (I’m thinking a delicious Marlborough/New Zealand sauvignon blanc that I like) and (hopefully) J.’s homemade garlic and fresh lemon hummus and pita and some nice vegetables and dip.

I want to, I’m trying to, remember how it feels to love life. Right now I’m just going through the motions and mouthing the words, but I do beleive that even pretending can lead to a change in attitude. This is the most insidious kind of pop pschology, I’m sure, but….apparently, even lifting the corners of your mouth into a smile causes “happy” chemicals to be secreted somewhere in your brain. Eventually, your mood catches up. 

I’m working from home today, just because I can. Isn’t that a wonderful thing? We were supposed to have a snow storm last night, and everyone on the team took their laptops home, with the idea that if the roads were too icy, we’d all telecommute. Turns out it was nothing more than icy rain, and the roads are not bad for those of us who live close by, of which I am one. My friend J. IM’d me this morning, interrogating me about why I was home. She didn’t realise that she was being presumptuous….although, she is a good friend, and I suppose good friends are allowed.

Ah, friends. I have had some dear ones over the years. Sadly though, quite a few of my friends have died. I don’t mean to be morbid, it’s just the truth. One of my oldest friends - we’ve been friends for 28 years, since we were both 19 - died on December 23rd. She had been ill, but no one expected her illness to result in an early death. She was mad at me - I wrote about it. At the time, I just felt ready to let go, but, looking back I realise I shouldn’t have let her stay mad and that it was only a bump in the road. My feelings for her ran deep, and they just don’t disappear.

Ag, I don’t think I can finish saying what I meant to say. It’s too hard to explain, so I’ll turn to the purpose of the blog - getting healthy and losing weight.

We all hit wobbly patches, and I hit mine over the last weeks. I was even looking forward to getting back to work just because of the routine it brings. Don’t get me wrong, I loved being at home and especially having all my daughters here, but I do find it easier to control my bad habits when there is a good routine in place. Somewhere in the in between moments, I will make one of my pots of soup today. I’ve bought all sorts of vegetables, and have in mind to do a robust, purely vegetarian soup. This is my all time favourite stand-by so that if I don’t have a lunch packed, I can always pull out a frozen container of soup, and if I arriving home feeling like I could wolf down well, anything, I can also rely on having at least something healthy on hand.

I walked yesterday and the day before during lunch time, so hopefully things are getting back on track.

Thank you dear blog friends for all your comments and for making me feel missed. I think of each of you at odd moments, when I see or hear something that reminds me of something that you’ve said, or see a news item pertaining to the regions where you live. I wish you all well. I wish you all a really good 2009 - me too. I’ll catch up with you over the next day or so.

Bye for now, RubyJean

I think I gained about five pounds, and I’m hoping to lose it over the next few weeks.

Goals:

Small:

Christmas/Holiday cards - finish today.

Not so small:

5 servings fruit veg.
6-8 glasses of water
2/3 servings protein
exercise at lunchtime

Bigger:
Pay bills

Geez am I boring.

It’s 5:30 am, I’ve been up since 4. I came downstairs to our family room where my daughters had left lights on, including the Christmas tree and the TV was still on too. I tried to watch, but nothing interested me, then I made myself a cup of tea and a slice of toast with Marmite. Then I surfed the web. I go to craigslist because I’m thinking someone out there might be selling a Kitchen Aid stand mixer or food processor, and I want one. I surf the news. I have my google settings tuned for news of Southern Africa, but the news there is always so grim.

I’m in some sort of holding pattern right now. Not moving forward but not quite yet succumbing to depression, either. The not succumbing to depression part is taking conscious effort on my part. Example: Back in October, I had told my mom I wanted to go to a choral concert which was going to be on December 13th in Hoboken, and that I hoped she and I could make a night of it. I’d take her to dinner and we’d go to the concert afterward. My friend J. wanted to come too. As always, come the day, with every fiber of my being I did not want to go. All I wanted to do was climb into my bed and burrow under the covers. But…I didn’t. As always, once out the door, it was fine. My mom enjoyed herself, too. My friend J. is generally a very upbeat person, ready and willing to try anything. Sometimes it exhausts me to be “up” for her. I know I don’t have to be “up” for her, but I try anyway. Turns out that I’m the one who benefits.

I can hear rain outside, it sounds like icy rain. Yesterday was so beautiful, too.

Did I say that J. got the job at the salon? She started on Saturday. Good for her. Touch wood, it works out. I’m looking forward to having my girls all together in a week or so. I’ve planned the menu for Christmas dinner. Shoprite has prime rib on sale for $4.99 a lb - I will be taking advantage of that sale. Some time this week I’ll pick up a roast and then age it at the back of my old downstairs fridge, which is very cold. I’ll do the roast, roast potoatoes, lots of fresh vegetables and I’ll go the whole hog and do a Yorkshire pud. Seeing as we’re doing this English style, I’ll make some custard and serve it with a fruit compote and creme fraiche. Not slimming food, but if we exercise portion control, not too bad either.

It’s taken me longer than I thought to think of those goals, but I will. Maybe today.

J. apologised to me for her rude behaviour and has been okay for the last week or so. She was a little snotty last night. I have to smile; I think she can only manage about 5 days of pleasant and then it starts to get really hard for her. On the plus side, she applied for a job at a salon. Actually, she had been making the rounds of all the salons in the area, but it seemed no one was hiring. On the spur of the moment last week-end, she popped into quite a nice one at the next town over, and they’ve had her in for an interview. She goes back tomorrow to “do” the owners hair. A bit scary for her. I should get her to watch “Steel Magnolias” tonight. There’s a scene where Darryl Hannah is nervously doing Dolly Parton’s hair, and exclaims, “is it too pouffy? I’m always too pouffy when I’m nervous!” or something like that. I used to adore that movie. I’d watch it whenever I felt the need to cry.

Three people were laid off at work yesterday. It was a sad and stressful day. One guy turned red and stopped breathing, or so it seemed. Yes, a sad and stressful day for everyone.

I haven’t stopped marching around the buildings and grounds and up and down the stairs in my lunch times, but my apetite has been running so high. I do not have that feeling of being in charge. Each day I say to myself - today’s the day you’ll get it back, and each day I let myself down.

Okay, here’s a small doable goal, just for today: Today I will follow the plan.

What’s the plan, you ask? I’ll drink 8 glasses of water, I’ll consume 5 servings of fruit and vegetables. When I do that, by the way, the proteins and carbs seem to take care of themselves. I’ll do the exercise.

I will try not to succumb to the big D, which is stalking me.

While waiting for boring old programs and jobs to run, I peeked in here this afternoon and caught up with most of the blogs I regularly read. I was so happy to see that Ini is okay, and going for job interviews. Ini, guess what? I am officially job seeking as of today. I haven’t been tapped on the shoulder yet to receive a pink slip, but who knows, maybe tomorrow. I’m starting my search while I’m still employed.

I was happy to see Ella here, too, and TJ with her impressive painting. We need to paint at our house, but it’s a job that never seems to be too high on the agenda. I need to take a leaf from TJ’s book and get my arse in gear. Angel has decided to feel beautiful, and rightly so - I can tell she is.

Chel had her baby, a boy, and that makes me happy for her and her husband and their little “Sis”. Annie sounded okay with her peaceful home the other night, and with goals and plans. Feathers, too, running on the tready. SoClose with her Epiphany, Islandgrl hopefully starting back in to running again and Lyn with her trip to Hawaii and only gaining two pounds(!), and Round finding her way with a healthy approach to eating and, well, just living, Raven with her good-for-the-arms (wow, really?) yoga, and Sharedbalance - well you haven’t checked in for a bit, but I’m hoping you’ve sorted out which plan you want to try.

Our Thanksgiving was pleasant. As always, lots of good food. My friend J. took some snaps with her handy dandy iPhone, and only after I really looked at them did I realise my girls didn’t really set the table in a very posh way, they didn’t use matching plates and bowls (why not? I can’t figure because we do actually have things that match), and we brought the first course, the soup, to the table in the pot. Must look awfully sloppy. Meanwhile, I had prepared most everything except the turkey in advance, the pots had been washed and the kitchen was actually spotless right up to making the gravy. I was more organised this year than in years past, but I guess at the last minute things got away from me. Oh well. Like I said, the food was good, the company was good. I’m sure I’m back in the 180’s again, and was planning to be really careful this week, but my evil twin, Lumberjack Woman, or maybe it’s Dutch farm girl who pulls the plow, made a rude appearance yesterday and today, and ate enough for two people.

TJ’s thoughts on wine have inspired me, although, maybe inspired is not the best way to describe it. I recognise myself in there, and it’s not inspirational. Nevertheless, my friend J. is giving me a lift home today in her brand new C-class Merc with all the bells and whistles, and we’ve already decided to stop off at the bottle store and purchase wine.

Today was stressful at work, that’s my excuse. We had that demonstration from the European crew who are replacing our system with something from SAP. Good luck with that mates. They say they’re doing a gap analysis and if their system can’t provide some crucial cost benefit to the company they’ll stick with what we’ve developed, but between you me and the gatepost, it’s a done deal. Our system is going to be thrown away. One of my colleagues reckons we have four or five months left, but I think it could be any time. They’ll need a transition team, but I don’t feel like sticking around for it. I’m in “stuff you!” mode.

Now, being in “stuff you!” mode has a few advantages. Anger can clear your head and make you sharper. I’ve tried, but I never can maintain that feeling. Right now, though, I’m feeling it big time. I hope it stays awhile. While it’s here, I’m going to sit myself down and set some goals, both short and long term. Not all will be job related, but that’s the main purpose.

J., my Bolshevik, called me late this afternoon to ask for money to go to New York to see the tree lighting tonight at Rockefeller Center. I had no way of getting it to her, so I suggested she take a quick drive over to my office. Typically, she had left things to the last minute, and typically she is broke. She said she’d rather just ask our R. to drive to my office, pick up my bank card and draw the money, while J. showered. Knowing J. (and remembering a big fight between them last week which left R. feeling very hurt), I asked, “what if R. won’t do it? Will you scream at her?” (Absolutely no doubt in my mind she would, plus a lot of cussing) J. said she’d just bug her. She is a Bolshevik, but generally very honest. So I asked her again, why doesn’t she just drive over herself. The office is only 5 miles from home, she had plenty of time to get back and shower. J.’s voice rose a decible or ten, and she shouted at me, “because it takes me f*ing at least an hour to get ready!” OK here’s where my prior “stuff you” comes into play…. “Kiddo”, I said softly (we sit on top of each other in this office), “you just shot yourself in the foot. I’ve told you repeatedly not to address me that way. I have just lost any desire to give you anything tonight.”  At this, she yelled further…. “I’ve had a bad day! I’ve been crying all day!” and… “Why are you so mean to me lately?” and… ”I’m clinically depressed” (self diagnosis, (not necessarily wrong)). and…..”I feel suicidal most of the time!” and…finally…. “I wasn’t saying the “F” word AT you, I have every right to be upset!” and……”I have every right to express myself when I’m upset!”…..

We’re talking your basic plain old garden variety temper tantrum.

J. does not seek me out to tell me she needs help for depression, although I have asked. Mostly, she avoids me. She point blank refuses all requests help out with tidying or chores, and when she does address us, she often peppers her speech with that good old “F” word. You’d think this was the Sopranos! I have repeatedly asked her to be more respectful, but nothing changes.

So, today, sorry, mate, “and…..I have every right to choose not to give in to a person who speaks disrespectfully to me”. End of story.

I called my husband shortly afterward, thinking she’d probably call him and harangue him. Again, speaking softly, this time in good old kitchen Afrikaans, I explained the situation and said, (a little “stuff you” creeping in), you better back me up! Well, actually no, it came out more like….”I just thought I’d warn you in case she calls….”

J. is wily, and will even go to her Granny, my mom. She recently burned bridges there, too. Luckily my mom is out shopping.

My niece has an only child, a daughter who is about 5 years younger than J. and her behaviour is along the same lines, just intensified. J. hasn’t gone as far with us, but if you are really honest when looking at both these girls, it’s the same thing.

Today, I didn’t even really feel upset. I just realised that it’s not that hard to NOT put up with any nonsense any more. (How long have I been a mother? Bit dimwitted at times, eh? Or maybe it’s just tired and beaten down.) Putting up with it, as we so often have done, capitulating after half-hearted apologies or tears, will not do J. any favours. Heaven only knows what will happen with my niece’s daughter. First of all, they have much more to give her materially, and she demands it and has always received what ever she wanted. Nothing she can say or do really fazes them. She has not heard the word NO very often. Last year my niece phoned me in an absolutely desperate state. She wanted to know if I knew of any places they could send their child - you know, places where troubled children are sent into the wildnerness or to military school. She told me that she and her husband felt they could no longer cope. They used to have two extremely undisciplined dogs. Cute as puppies, and my niece vowed and declared they would be trained and disciplined and walked and that she had their best interests at heart. Yet, they were horribly spoiled and then often left too long to their own devices. My niece and her husband eventually got rid of both dogs, too afraid their daughter’s temper, they preferred to tell her they had died. But you can’t make the problem go away as easily with a spoiled child.

Why do we find it so hard to stick to our principles, to just operate with common good sense - as employees or parents or spouses or just as ourselves? Is it laziness? This is what I tend to think might be at the root of it all. Or, fear of dealing with the consequences? The temper tantrums? Or is it the lack of commitment to get up when it’s cold and dark and rainy to walk the dog. Lack of desire or energy to put in the work? To plan the meals, to exercise. No, I still think it goes back to laziness. No one wants to deal with a temper tantrum, or get out of that warm bed or put in the effort when you could just plop down on the couch. I think we get comfortable taking the easy road. Well, I’ve been doing that for too long.

Tomorrow I will post my goals after having a good think. May the force stay with me.

Well, here we are again, 4am, been awake since about 2:30. In about an hour, my body will suddenly relax and tell me, okay now, you can sleep, but it will be time to get up. It’s better not to get angry with myself over this, that usually makes sleep that bit harder to achieve.

My mother is a lifelong insomniac. Her litany has been, “I didn’t sleep a wink last night”. I’ve heard it so often that I stopped really listening long long ago. With me, I think it might have something to do with peri-menopause. I’ve never been a great sleeper, but it was never that bad. I wake up and, get this….I have a song playing in my head! A bloomin’ soundtrack! At the same time, I’m thinking about all sorts of things. It’s a regular circus in there!

Deep breathing, picturing that candle, emptying my mind…I give that a go for about an hour. Doesn’t usually work. Herbal tea, hot milk, tried all that. I’ve come to the conclusion that I just have to ride it out. Eventually sleep will come.

My week-end eating was not all that good. I tried to keep an eye on portion sizes, though. I’m not too bothered about this. Tomorrow - make that today - is a new day. It’s much easier to be in control during the week. My boss and lunchtime exercise partner is off this week, so I’m planning to do my lunchtime walks alone. She feels the cold more than I do, and quite a few times we’ve walked the building and done the stairs on fair days when I would have liked to have been outside in that cold air.

I realised the other day that I am the only person, up to my own generation, in a rather large family (more than 40 first cousins, and we’re not even Roman Catholic) that did not grow up in Africa. I got my spark, my start, in Central Africa, nearer to to equator, where it’s very hot. My mom left there and sailed for Canada when she was 7 or 8 months along with me. My dad had taken on a job there working for a nickle (nickel?) mining company. She must have sailed from Cape Town, which meant a long train journey from Luanshya, Zambia. The boat must have gone to England first, then from there to New York, then the train to Winnipeg, bus to Flin Flon, then my dad picked my mom and sister up and drove them yet further north still, to Thompson. Now then, Thompson is really cold. In some places in town, you couldn’t build because the ground doesn’t really thaw out all year - from about 2 feet below ground. I think that’s called permafrost.

No matter how cold, as children, we were bundled up and put outside. I have photos of us sitting on a frozen looking swing in a snow bound back yard, pink faces smiling for the camera.

At the age of 8, I started with a strange allergy: cold urticaria. Basically, when my skin was exposed to cold water or air, I’d break out in hives. I would start to tingle, and they’d show up, uneven, like paisley, and thick and raised. It would look like scars of a burn victim. At school, in Michigan, I’d have to bundle up when all the girls were wearing open jackets and letting their long hair blow free. I looked like he Michelen man. Great way to catch the eye of a boy, aye? I loved swimming, but had to be careful. Once I started to tingle, I’d have to get out of the water fast. As I got older, it became worse. My heart rate would speed up and I’d get a wooshing sound in my head, and my vision would cloud, like when you stand up too fast, and I would experience the most awful nausea.  An extreme allergic reaction. How weird is that? Gradually, from the age of about 28, it went away. No one I’d ever met, no one in my family had ever seen or heard of this, I certainly had no idea what it was. On one occasion on the beach in SA, I passed out after staying in the water too long and woke up in the lifeguard’s station. They were alarmed because some number to do with blood pressure was at or over 200. The whole rest of the day, I barely had the energy to get from the bed to the bathroom. This must be how it feels when you have a faulty heart. So finally, I went to see a doc, who listened to my “symptoms” somewhat skeptically, I think, and had no idea what I was talking about. At least he sent me to a skin specialist, who did know. After two minutes in his office, he announced cheerfully, oh! that’s just cold urticaria. It’s hereditary. All you need to do is take an anti-histamine an hour before swimming, for example, or any other activity where you’ll be exposed to cold. He prescribed something called Periactin. Now then, that was when I was about 21. At the time, my sister’s son was about 3 or 4 and was a terribly poor eater. Her doctor had prescribed the same drug as an appetite stimulant. As soon as he said Periactin, my brain went….Whoa! Are you kidding me? You want to take drug that STIMULATES THE APPETITE! Nah. I’ll live with the hives. Anyway, it went away.

I have a strange affinity for cold now. It’s the one thing I hang onto if I’m feeling sick. Just stick my nose into some fresh cold air and I’ll be fine. Right in the throes of labor, with Roseannie, my second child, it wasn’t going all that well. I was so tired and was getting panicky. Would this never end? I was on an old metal framed bed, and my hands found the cool metal bars behind my head and I just hung onto them for dear life. Neil kept trying to hold my hand, and I just batted him away. I couldn’t speak to tell him that I couldn’t bear the warmth of his hands. The nurses kept urging me to let go and sit up to allow gravity and body pressure to help me, but I didn’t dare let go of those metal bars. To this day, no matter what the weather, I crack the window open at night. In winter, I gather the blankets tightly over my shoulders and inch my way closer to the edge of the bed so that my nose is right up next to that gap in the window, and that ice cold air feels divine, like a drink of fresh beautiful clear water.

Funny to think of having started out this life in a hot, hot place.

Well, here it is, Monday morning 8am. In 30 minutes, my boss has called a meeting, ominously called “Information”. She had a meeting with the CIO on Friday, and she mentioned to me only a moment ago that the news is not good. I am quite terrified to lose my job. We have no cushion whatsoever, and my dh does not earn very much. He works so hard, too. He’s been doing private jobs every week-end for months, and I can see how tired he is. Ugh.

Well, I did pull out the old resume a couple of months ago, and polished it up a bit. I don’t even want to work in IT anymore. Never really did. It just paid well.

I’ve been marching around this new office complex like a lunatic these last few weeks, with my scented wipes at the ready to freshen up when the walking is done. Did I say I hate that part? Yeah, yeah, I’m kvetching too much. It paid off though. I lost 5.5 lbs this month. I had gone up and now I’m about one pound lower than my lowest this year. Might as well continue to march. If I have to go for job interviews it’ll be better if I’m not so heavy. Shoulda’ gone for that botox, too.

9 Hours Later…

Well, the meeting was ominous. The European ex owners - and somehow still involved - branch of our company has a system that can supposedly do the same thing as the system I support, and they want to eliminate ours if possible, to save money. So, we have to compile a report of everything our system does, and they’ll do a gap analysis. So we have work - basically, it’s to dig our own grave. It sounds mean of me to say this, but so much of the stuff I’ve seen produced (well, sometimes not produced, just presented and talked about for a long time) from this particular IT group is pretty but has no legs, no substance. They’re very stylish and come over to the US with their funny shoes and haircuts (ok, yes, that’s bitchy) and are extremely self congratulatory, but most of their stuff seems buggy and s-l-o-o-o-o-w. It’s as if all the design efforts go into the front end screens, but the meat and potatoes part is lacking. Not that our stuff isn’t pretty. It’s not bad - but importantly, the meat and potatoes are there, they really do work, and they’re very very powerful.  Oh well. The only plus is that these folks take forever to do anything.

I marched around the campus today, had a slice of toast with peanut butter for breakfast, tea with milk & sugar, coffee with half & half and sugar, half of a rather large tuna sandwich on crusty bread and a few sweets. The sweets are not my normal thing, but they were floating all over our office and I had a bitter taste in my mouth for some reason. I’ve given up on sweeteners. I’d rather just have that little bit of sugar in my tea or coffee and limit myself to no more than one or two cups of tea/coffee a day.

Maya was so desperate for a walk tonight that I took her on a rather long, brisk walk as soon as I could change. She greeted me at the door great enthusiasm, all but doing back handsprings and acrobatic leaps. She harangued me as I changed out of my work clothing, pushing me with her nose, mouthing my hands a bit, as if to pull me along. She makes a peculiar kind of yodeling sound, which is her version of talking. “Oh please please please hurry up, I’ve been waiting all day, come ON, please!”. I finished dressing and needed the loo…..when I went into the bathroom she sat outside the door and cried and yodeled some more. Our walk wasn’t enough for her though, she keeps trying to engage me in play even now. I feel so very sorry for her. She’s lonely, too, without Shelby and J. and her bf are worse than useless when it comes to meeting her needs. They want her to cuddle, and think that tying her up on a rope in the back yard qualifies as “she was outside today” when I ask if they’ve taken her out. They aren’t prepared for the walking and poop picking up and all that other stuff that goes with the territory. I wish they’d try a little harder. I’m tired of being mad at them. I’ve been mad so much lately, I’ve just got to let it go.

As I walked/ran with Maya, I tried to remember to be present in the moment, enjoy the cold air, the moon, the trees and notice my heart beating. I wondered if I’ve lost, or if I ever even really knew how to be happy. I just can’t seem to remember how that feels. Happy moments here and there: enjoyment at a good joke, a good movie, a good glass of wine, good food. Looking at photos of my family, I feel proud and pleased and love them. But I don’t remember, even on those days long ago when those photos were taken, just feeling content. Always worried, seldom relaxed. Is that all there is? Is that all you get? Yes, I’m greedy.

I have the day off today, in honor of voting day. If I could vote, I would. This year I was supposed to apply for my citizenship, but with one and another drama, I didn’t get to it. Sounds like a big old excuse, but I am making it my goal to have applied by next year. I was born in Canada to South African parents, but I’ve lived here for most of my life, and spent 13 years in Africa. It’s a funny thing to have a frame of reference that encompasses two different cultures. I’ve always felt betwixt and between, even my accent changes depending on whether I’m speaking to my mother or a friend. It’s time to get off the fence, and I’ve made my choice. It only took me 40 years!

I’m still slogging it out doing my walks at work during lunchtime. I love being outside, but I still HATE the part where I have to change back into my work clothes feeling less than pristine. At least now that the weather is cooler, I’m not as sweaty. At the last office building there was a shower, and I took full advantage. This time there is a beautiful, state-of-the-are gym on the premises, but I haven’t joined yet. There are showers there, but I’m doing things on the cheap. Walking around the beautiful grounds of this new complex is 100% free, and in this economy, with job cuts looming in our company again, I feel like it’s better to wait and see. Plus, the trees are just glorious outside, and the air is fresh and bracing. So, I bought unscented baby wipes, and poured some of my expensive Este Lauder toner on to them, so they smell lovely, and just “rinse” when I get back from the walk. We usually do 40 to 45 minutes of really brisk walking, and when I wear the pedometer, it comes up to between 4,200 and 5,000 steps, pedometer readings not being a very precise science. I thought the idea of pouring toner onto the wipes was fairly brilliant. It won’t be Estee Lauder next time, just Ponds or Oil of Delay, as long as it has a fresh scent.

Food wise, it’s just the usual….trying to be very conscious of what and how much I’m putting in my mouth. Luckily I do not have too much of a sweet tooth. There are always cakes and muffins on offer at work, and in this new office the snack table is smack-dab in front of my desk. So far I’ve managed to handle it.

Family wise, I called my sister today. I am still, what, not angry, but really disappointed that she and her new husband couldn’t have just apologized to my mom over how badly her visit went with them in May, June this year. My mom is still hurting, and if there is one thing my mom is good at, it’s nursing resentment. I can’t stay mad forever though, and although I still feel disappointed, I can’t just never call my sister. I do love her, I always will.

My own family wise…J. is still being so difficult. I find myself biting my tongue pretty much most of the time when we’re together. We seem to clash terribly. I see her as someone who is super sensitive on the inside, and has developed a brittle shell for protection on the outside. Thing is, most people that you meet in this life who have those brittle shells, the ones you come across who are ever ready with the nasty or sarcastic comment, probably started out the same way. At some point you no longer say, Ag, shame, it’s just because he/she has a little chicken heart beating under there. At some point, the person is just thought of as a jerk. The thought of this happening to J. breaks my heart.

My other two dd’s are fine, and dh is fine. He is working too hard and I want to get him booked in for a complete physical. Typical of some men, he is resisting. Good thing I’m the boss.

My mom is okay. She and I seem to have parallel emotions. When I’m up, she’s up, when I’m down, she’s down, or maybe it’s visa versa. Right now she is in classic Iris mode, mad at everyone. She has missed out on a lot of good things in life - opportunities for friendship and bonding because of that rigid sense of what she thinks is right or wrong and what she deserves. It’s too bad, but what’re ya gonna do?

Maya the puppy may be going into/onto (what is the right terminology) heat again. I hope not, I was hoping to have her spayed this month. She is very cute and smart, and yes, I’ve told you this before.

But I still miss my Shelby-lou.

It’s 21:10, I’m sitting at the desk in the family room, the Food Channel is on, Bobby Flay? maybe. I’m not listening really. Neil is upstairs watching baseball. C. is in VA, R is in her room doing homework, J., the Bolshevik is not home. My mum is in her room. I am lonely. How is that possible in this house full of people? I had a rough day at work…many production problems and I find myself in the middle of all of it. I’m not the cause of the production problems…it is not my code. I am not the manager either. I am in a dangerous place, jobwise.

I saw Barack Obama’s 30 minute spot tonight. I so regret not being a citizen yet - I cannot vote. I had the wonderful luxury of voting for Nelson Mandela in New York at the embassy in - when? 1994? I felt so good about that. Meanwhile, I have heard all sorts of dire predictions about this man, Obama, - that he is really a bad person and all that, but I watch him and I want to believe in him. I think he could be, might be, truly special. To all the cynical people out there…..what if he really is special? Are we all so cynical these days that we are no longer sure that anyone can be smart, honest, and deeply caring of the country, of the world? Am I really as green as I sound? According to my former really smart work companions, I’m below the acceptable norms of IQ in that department.

But, Damn, Damn, Dammit, just about every time in my life I’ve had a sure feeling about something and told that I’m wrong, things have panned out as I predicted. Shouldn’t that mean something?

Okay. Diet Stuff…

Walked approx 5,000 steps in the bracing autumn air today at lunchtime. It was glorious.

Food? never good enough, but not as bad as it could have been: Toast and Marmite (or Bovril) for breakfast. Ham sandwich on a roll plus veggie soup for lunch. A couple of slices of leftover ham for dinner and three Cherry Coca-Cola’s.

I have total common sense about dinner food for anyone else but me. I don’t even like soda, but 3 cherry cokes was my dinner.

Well, the about-to-go-bang company I work for has moved some of us into our new offices. They’re so nice that one of my colleagues remarked that he was wondering when the other shoe was going to drop. “This is too nice for us, it’s almost scary”. I know what he means. The place has huge windows, which, after years of not knowing if it was dark or light out, or raining or not, is just plain wonderful. It also has a beautiful cafeteria, a post office, gym, hair salon, convenience store, travel agency and child care. Oh, and a bank. I’d love to join that gym, but for now, I go out in my lunchtimes, still, with my boss, and we walk briskly for 40 to 45 minutes. Our policy is strictly no work talk. Yesterday was a rainy, blustery day, so we changed into our gym things in the ladies room, and walked the buildings. There are two that are connected by an atrium. We walked all around the place, and went to the tall building and climbed the stairs to almost the top - to the tenth floor. I think the next floor up is the roof. Our goal is to walk to the tenth floor without being too winded.

I’m not liking changing in the ladies room (at least it’s private to our office suite (oh I SAY!)), and giving up my lunch time to walking, but I know I have to do it. I’m still so vain, and hate going back to my desk feeling the least bit disheveled. But I know it’s got to be done. I’ve got to keep moving. Once outside, though, I do love the brisk, cool air.

I started that knitting project. Oy vey, am I terrible! I have pulled out the first part (70 stitches, k1 p1 for 48 rows) at least 4 times. The wool is not just wool…it’s wildly expensive string and ribbon and hairy stuff imported from some ’stan country, and tangles when you pull it out. It is much more difficult for a novice like me than plain old wool. I think the ladies might have met last night, in which case I missed them.

It was a long day of many problems at work, and I arrived home and decided to take a bath, first thing. My mom hunted me down (privacy? me?) and sat on the loo telling me about how upset she felt because my youngest daughter had been incredibly rude. I couldn’t even repeat what she said, it’s that horrible. Youngest daughter can be like this, and too often, is. If this was 1950, I could probably give her a good swat, but times have changed, and although I feel like I could wring her neck, that won’t do. But what will? Talking to her about it usually results in one or both of us losing our temper and it gets ugly. I am at a loss and terribly worried. I can’t fix this one right now. What do you do? For now, I guess give it up to God. Sir? Are you listening? A little help here, please. (note to self: fix lock on bathroom door).

Food wise, I did not eat a lot yesterday, but it hit me that I consumed all starches: toast for breakfast, then at 10-ish, feeling desperately hungry, I bought a carrot muffin which is really just cake, isn’t it? I nipped down to the aforementioned cafeteria for that muffin. Warning! Danger Zone! I wasn’t hungry for my soup at lunch time, then had a banana at about 3pm. I made macaroni and cheese for dinner and dished up pretty generously for myself. I did make some peas just for me just so I could say I had some vegetable, but peas are a starchy vegetable. For someone who has been doing Weight Watchers as long as I have, those are terrible choices. I notice my apetite has come back, and I think its probably to do with PMS. I read about the cause of this surge in hunger, once, a long time ago, and it made sense. But boy, talk about your body sabotaging your efforts, or is it your sub-conscious?

Still, I think I have made it to the top of the next decade. The scale has finally moved. It hovers between 177 and 180. Still a big girl, just not as big.

And I’m still missing my Shelby.

Out of habit, I popped in here at 3fc to check my blog and to catch up with others, and as I read the title of my last post, “Monday Musing”, I felt oddly surprised that two full days had already passed since then. They weren’t particularly good days, but they weren’t a total loss, either.

Memories of my beloved Shelby have been hovering at the edge of my thoughts all the time, and as soon as I stop doing any task that requires concentration, they play like a reel of old film. Actually, it’s more than film, because I can call up the feel of her soft ears and cold pink nose. I did not grieve this much for my father, which probably says something not so good about one of us.

The last two days were filled with all the usual things, I even managed to accomplish 3/4 of a small development task at work. Nothing fancy, just the right size of a job for a week like this. I am finishing it off today, at this point, I am just playing with it. I had to steam clean the carpet in the living room on Monday after Shelby’s last accident, and since I was already at it, I did a bit extra. We had our comfort food on Tuesday night - those infamous meatballs with mashed potatoes and peas and carrots, and on Wednesday I made more banana bread. I exercised on Tuesday and yesterday during my lunch time, really throwing myself into it, and I can feel it in my sore muscles. Last night I (reluctantly at first) went for a long walk with Roseanne and Maya, Jessica’s 9 month old puppy.

Maya is a wonderful dog, and also very very different to Shelby. Where Shelby had this soft, gentle quality, Maya is sharp and alert. My mother used to remark, “Shelby is a very refined lady, you know.” I wish you could hear how she used to say that, with her South African accent…she would lean forward and look at you knowingly, dropping her voice and stage whispering, conspiratorally. Meanwhile, Maya is all dog, of the private-part-licking-toilet-water-drinking-foul-wind-breaking variety. She is also a joyful creature, full of bounce and very smart and will never know how close she came to ending up in some shelter in North Carolina. Oddly enough, it is her blithe spirit that endears her to me. 

Alright, I know, I know, I’ve been going on and on about dogs for days. Well, you know what they say…if you want to know what’s on a person’s mind, listen to what they talk about. I remember the first time I heard that. I couldn’t decide if it was really dumb (well, DUH!) or, in it’s simplicity, extremely clever. My  opinion leans towards extremely clever, since so few people practise active listening.

Here it is, Thursday already. The week-end looms. I do believe I need to make a plan, otherwise we’ll all wallow in our now too-quiet house. The leaves are looking glorious, still, and in today’s newspaper, I read about an easy hike. North of us there is beautiful place called Bear Mountain State Park, and I’m thinking maybe my mom and I and whoever of my girls will join us (Neil will be working) should pack a picnic and load ourselves into the car, Maya in the back, and drive up to the park. My mom is most definitely not an outdoor girl, but I’ve learned that she can be convinced to do things outside of her comfort zone. Alternatively, there is a closer park, Nyack Beach State Park, which has a beautiful walk along the Hudson. Whichever. We just need to get ourselves out and moving and enjoying the sunshine.

Now then, some planning needs to be done…… 

Today has been one of the saddest days I can remember in a long time. I had to take our beloved Shelby to the vet so that she could be put down. Put down. What a lousy phrase to have to write. I can’t think of anything else though. Our beautiful girl, so sweet and loving and innocent. She’s had it rough since early May. She started to have seizures, and we thought we had things under control, but in the last weeks she has become progressively more sick. Yesterday she had three, and after each one became less and less able to get up, let alone walk. When she did manage to get up, she walked in circles, sticking her face in tiny corners and just standing there for a few moments, then turning around and staggering a bit, bumping into walls. I think she may have been in pain as well, since she cried. My youngest daughter and her boyfriend came with me, and we stood around her and held her and stroked her as she gently slipped away. I thought my heart would burst.

Food has been the farthest thing from my mind these last weeks; I find myself feeling nauseous at the thought of certain things. Ah well, I suppose it will pass.

It’a almost 5:30 am, I’ve been up since about 4. Is this one of those symptoms of peri-M? Your eyes boing open on the dot every day at 4am? I went to bed really early last night, so I’ve had enough sleep. Neil mentioned he’d love some banana bread so I made some just now….it’s got about another 20 minutes to go in the oven. We have too many bananas! Now then, banana bread is not a good topic for a diet blog, but then I am not actually on a diet.

I have a family of 5 at home at the moment, if you don’t count 2 dogs and a cat. Our eldest is coming home this week-end to take her sisters to a concert and be with Neil on his birthday. This is a busy household, and I can’t be doing special foods just for me. So, yes, I will bake a banana bread and yes, maybe I will take a slice with me to have with coffee when I get to work.

I will also take a container of wonderful vegetable soup that my mom made yesterday. She made about 18 quarts in April, and I froze a lot of it in small containers and have been using it for lunches at work for ages. I’m sure yesterday’s batch is 20 quarts, she used the biggest pot we have, which is one of Auntie Sylvia’s AMC Waterless Classic pots and it is enormous. My mother adores those pots; they were Sylvia’s pride and joy and my aunt gave each of her nieces a starter set as a wedding present. There are at least 15 or more of us first cousins, all women. She should have just bought the company.

I walked, make that ran…this week during lunches and I finally had the courage to step back on the scale after my two weeks of incredible apetite. I believed I must have gained about 4 or 5 pounds but was too afraid to look. I took a pass at my weigh in at Weight Watchers on Saturday. By last night I was feeling better and I had the courage to stand on my scale at the end of the day. I felt sluggish last week, and is it any wonder! This business of being afraid too look at the scale is really nonsense, I know. Especially since I am trying to just live a life here, and when you live a life, you go up a little sometimes. If you’re plump, as I am, you watch yourself, but you don’t go overboard and become obsessed. Being afraid of the scale is a warning sign that I’m not being  truthful to my own self. Okay then. I consider myself chastised!

When I say “ran” during my lunch time, I really was walking just really really fast. I walk with a woman - my boss - who is uber fit, and her brisk is my jog. I kept up, though!

With everyone being home this week-end, I am planning a big Sunday meal, and it will be roast lamb with lots of different vegetables. Everyone except J. loves a roast leg of lamb. She’ll be fine though. The girls want to pack so much in this week-end. They always want to go shopping, they have their concert, they want the whole family dinner thing and they want to go apple picking. I researched places to go, and there is a farm about a mile from our home and they said if we get there early on Saturday morning, they’ve got enough apples left for about 100 more people, and then it’s done for the season. So…we’ll see.

I still haven’t connected with a writing class or started a writing blog. It’s interesting. Here, I have a “reason” to write. I have permission, so to speak. When I get to my writing blog, my words dry up. I don’t know where to start.

Work has been stressful these last weeks with so many people gone. The one person who left had a very big personality, and took over a lot of the high profile tasks. You just couldn’t get a foot in. Well, we’ve had non stop production issues since he left, and I’m the “face” of it. It’s stressful, but also a little weird. I had done this all before he came, and knew I hadn’t completely lost my ability, but it just got so tiring to always fight or be on the defensive. The production problem I’m dealing with right now is a big’un, and by yesterday afternoon I had moments when I just wanted to go home - but there was another feeling. It was stressful, yes, because the fallout from these things can be huge, monetarily and politically, but I felt like we were just getting on with it for a change. There wasn’t that added edge that my comrade always brought to the table. I miss him. He’s a smart person and wonderful to talk to, but I don’t miss the maneuvering and the “spin”.

So, we will see how this plays out. The economy is so bad that predictions are dire for sales of our product, and there are more layoffs coming. Please, quick, somebody tell me what else I could do for a living?

Oooh, gotta run, I can smell that banana bread/cake.

Sometimes the most annoyingly chatty person on earth (me) dries up and has nothing to say. That’s where I’ve been at for weeks. Perhaps this is a blessing to all the people in my life to whom I talk!

Funny thing, at least to me, is that I remember being exceptionally quiet as a child, from the age of about 8 right into my 20’s. Things changed after I got married and had kids….and found myself stuck in a dorp for ten years in a place where I felt like I had been buried alive. I was desperately bored and desperately lonely, and I began…..to chat. I knew I was talking too much, telling people too much, giving too much away for free. There were a couple of woman that I came to know who had husbands as deeply involved in club sports as mine. In fact, these women, their husbands, my husband…they had all grown up together. What are club sports? You don’t see it here in the US, but in the UK and South Africa, New Zealand and Australia, every little town has one or more clubs and people join them and play sports through them. The provinicial and national teams for squash, cricket, rugby and I don’t know what all are (used to be) drawn from club sports. My own husband was always a provincial baseball player - granted, not a hugely popular sport in South Africa - and played at the highest club level (the A-side) of rugby. He was also, before I knew him, a provincial diver and gymnast. He is the most athletic person I have ever met, and his love of sports is so pure! But back then, it seemed like it never ended! It was customary for the wives to go along to all the games, taking their little ones and sitting in the stands for hours and hours, whole days even, or else they’d work in the club’s kiosk, selling hot dogs and “cool drinks” (sodas) and chips and sweets. People’s whole social lives revolved around those clubs. I made friends with a few of the women, and would call them up occasionally to go for a visit. There was one woman in particular of whom I was very fond. We had our first babies on the same day, and sort of “met” in the maternity ward. I’ll give her this….she was patient with me and a good soul, and did occasionally reciprocate and visit me with her little ones. The other women almost never called me. I was pretty desperate, though, so I kept trying. I’d go home after my little social calls and feel physically ill, feeling as though I had offered up pieces of myself for nothing. I never became really close with anyone and I think I was probably viewed/tolerated as an oddity - the one who grew up in America! Gradually, the need to connect like that wore away. Finally, in my thirties, having left the old dorpie years before, and on one very cold night in a hotel room in Sweden on a business trip, quite suddenly realised I was fine just by myself.

I still can get a good steam going if I’m comfortable with a friend, and I do still go overboard at times.

For a few years, here at work, there was a woman who was an incessant talker. On top of that, her voice happened to be naturally strident (she could give Ethel Merman a run for her money). Her subject matter invariably settled on her two sons, who, our whole office came initmately to know, are both at the genius level when it comes to IQ, but both have “issues”. I  grew to intensely dislike using or hearing the word “issue” used when what was really meant was ”problem”. She drove everyone nuts. Me included. It was hard to get angry with this woman because in most other respects she was actually a very nice person. I know she was kind, I think she was probably pretty smart and she had a good sense of humour. Secretly, I harbored a horrible thought: is this what I did to people? Is this how they felt about me? Did I drive them nuts? Is this divine retribution?

Ah well, let me be merciful and release you, dear reader.

Not a lot to say chickees. I did have two paragraphs of kvetching, but deleted them.

I’m hangin’ in.

My dance card has been full these past weeks. Same ol’ same ol’, though: work, home, housework, laundry, cooking and all the things to do with family - husband, mom, kids, dogs (dog hair!!!), & cat and now, a new “guest”, a mouse in the kitchen - trying to find balance. I’ve been watching over my mom very carefully since she returned, determined to not let the events in South Africa send her into a downward spiral. The need to be ever vigilant has lightened up a little, and my mom is doing well.

More folks were let go at work, one of whom I’ve mentioned many times in my blog, a “frenemy”. I’ve worked with him for 10 years or more, he’s one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met, but was also, occasionally arrogant and sexist - you know the drill. He drove me mad sometimes and I’ve already said I’ll miss him terribly. His last day was Tuesday. There were other losses too, I know, I know, you must be sick of reading about it! My old friend and my sister. Could this be a catharsis? Can I even spell that word? I have mixed feelings on the whole matter of losing these people in my life. On one hand, yes, sad. On another, light.

Somehow this catharsis or lightness, or whatever you would call it, has caused me to reevaluate (again) my life. I’ve decided I like it here where I am right now. I’ve taken on quite a few projects at home and at work. Caroline, Roseanne and I walked in that Susan G. Komen race last Sunday. Fun, but hot. I was pooped at the end of the day. It was wonderful having Carolina Mooney Juney home for the week-end. We spent some good time together. I had the girls baking with me on Saturday - old fashioned Dutch rusks. Kind of like the Italian biscotti, but (isn’t this typical) bigger and heavier. We did two double batches (each batch took 9 cups of flour and 1 lb of butter, plus buttermilk and cream) so that Caroline would have a lot to take home. Jessica is installed in cosmetology school. She seems to be enjoying it (we hope and pray). It is her birthday on Monday, and we have plans to spend the day together tomorrow, shopping for her presents, going out to lunch and maybe having a mani-pedi together. We plan to go up to a local outlet mall just over the border in New York.

On Sunday I am planning to go to church, I sloughed off most of the summer, although I did buy myself a Bible, and I am planning to read it. It is a good translation, I believe. I won’t go into what I think makes a good translation, I’m so tired right now! But suffice it to say, I am pleased with my purchase. The stack of books next to my bed has become a dangerously high tower. What’s a girl to do? But back to church…I will try to be more regular. I do not do this out of a sense of guilt. I do it becuase it is the right thing for me. Just showing up and listening to the message helps me to obtain that elusive balance and perspective in my own life, plus, hopefully, I am leaving with something to offer other people in terms of kindness and freindship.

The other projects are: fixing up the broken things in our home, such as our dining chairs. My mom bought the dining suite for me in ’94, second hand, but a very good name (Henredon) and the chairs need re caning and re upholstering. I’ve found someone who can do it, therein lies a story for another time….it’s going to be expensive. Expensive enought that the possibility of just buying new chairs seems to be another option. But I remember that my mom was so excited when she found it, and she bought it out of such love, I couldn’t replace those chairs for all the tea in China. Anyway, this person has agreed to let me do one chair at a time, I’ll pay cash. I don’t care if it takes me six months. First, though I had to order the  upholstery all in one go. I’m paying for it a little bit every two weeks. I have to go over the wood on the chairs with some wood soap and lemon oil before I start dropping them off. Don’t trust the re-upholsterer to clean the wood nicely before he fixes the cushions back in place. Hmph.

I want to sort through all my table cloths, I now have about three or four good vintage ones, (picked a new one up the other day - Irish linen - at an estate sale I just happened to be passing - $8!) and make sure they’re clean and pressed and packed away nicely. Then I want to do my (sad) linen cupboard.

I want to go out to Lancaster county at some point - maybe next spring - and buy three hand crafted chests (kysts?) for the girls, and I’m going to fill them with beautiful things for when they start their own homes. I’ll pass on the vintage table cloths and I’ve collected some Carol Boyes stainless steel utensils (she’s an artist from SA, mainly designs home textiles, works in 18/8 stainless steel and pewter and maybe also silver). I have gazillions of expensive pots. Whoever likes to cook the most can have my two prized Le Creuset (6 qt oval and 2 1/2 qt round). The AMC Classic pots can be divided among them. I’ll see.

Had all my bits and pieces of broken jewellery repaired. I don’t have much, none of it that high quality, but all meaningful to me. Sold the extra gold - unmatched earrings and broken chains etc. which paid for the repairs.

Lastly, I’ve joined a knitting group. We start on October 14th, we’ll all be doing a similar sweater.

Well, not quite lastly.

I’m still looking for a writing class. The person I thought I found as a teacher has not responded to my queries, and I’m afraid it is a dead end.

Oh, and I’m exercising more. I’m either walking or working out at lunch time most days. We move offices in a few weeks, and the new facility has a real gym. You have to pay - if they let me pay monthly, I think I can swing it. They even have classes. I want to lose 18 more lbs by Christmas.

Still using up space here, I am.

I haven’t found another spot to blog yet, although I think I’m on my way. I found a person who offers an online writing course and have initiated correspondence. So far, I’ve inquired about the availability and schedule of the next class, he’s responded, and I’ve enthused. The class involves blogging. It’s probably hosted on something like blogspot. I’ll find out more today.

Yesterday I took a really long walk at lunch time, after which I had a nice cold shower, washed my now even shorter hair and still didn’t make it back to my desk in the allotted hour. I did not even try to blow dry the feathers on top of my head, I just pushed them about with my fingers. Talk about letting go of vanity. It dried alright. I don’t think I scared anyone away. I wore my Weight Watchers pedometer, and with my stride measured at 28 (inches? I have no idea, I just followed their stride measuring instructions), the step total for the walk was over 5,300. I wore two two pound wrist weights on my arms, with the idea that they may help tone my arms. I don’t think they toned anything except my veins and arteries.

For breakfast I’ve been sticking to Fiber One, just over the 1/2 cup serving size, and I usually throw in a handful of raisins and occasionally a banana. I also have a cup of coffee. We don’t bother with skim milk, and I do put 2 tsp of sugar in the coffee. No one in this home is into the low-fat or fat-free diet food offerings that are available. We’re all of the opinion that you should just eat less of the “real” stuff. Should I mention that I’m the only plumpy living here? I do all this very early in the morning because I want to make sure to (this is indelicate) get to the loo before work. I loathe using the work loos.

Once at work, I’ll make a cup, occasionally two, of coffee. Generally there I have Splenda, but I do use half-n-half. I try to fit in as much water as possible throughout the day, but often I forget. It seems ridiculous to buy plastic bottles of water when there is a perfectly good water fountain down the hall that gushes cold water and has a fixture for filling a glass.

For lunch, if I don’t go out with my colleagues….and I’m guessing that whole phase of my life is over now that my one colleague is leaving next Tuesday…..I just have a Slim-Fast or some left-overs from the previous night’s dinner.

Once home, I almost always prepare something for the family. I have worked myself into the position where I am the main one doing food preparation, and this is another thing that is ridiculous, given that there are two grown daughters living in this house, plus my husband and my mom. My mom pitches in occasionally, but her efforts usually use up every ingredient in the pantry and we have left-overs for months. This isn’t always ideal, since I’m the only one who really appreciates her style of cooking. She’s getting on, and sometimes makes mistakes, e.g. mushy meatballs, or generally overcooked meat and vegetables. Neil will pitch in too, occasionally, bless his heart (mostly). He is of the seventeen peas per person variety of cook, and this is a sore point between us. So, this week I did buy ingredients for soft tacos, and told Jessica and her boyfriend (since he appears to have moved in) that they are in charge of that meal one night this week.

Our dinners are not usually too weight loss friendly, although I do always include a salad and vegetables. If it isn’t too weight loss friendly, I just make sure my portion of the heavy part of the meal is small and load up on the salad and vegetables. Last night I made (for the first time actually) rigatoni with vodka sauce and an Italian inspired salad (iceberg/romaine lettuce, lots of tomatoes (home grown, from a friend), thinly sliced red onion, roasted red peppers and fresh mozzarella). We also had a warm loaf of Italian bread.

After our evening meal, we don’t usually have a dessert, although there are some Klondyke bars in the freezer this week. There is always a ton of fruit available. I believe that my worst fault, my downfall is the one or two glasses of wine that easily morphs into three. According to my Christiane Northrup book, alcohol is the ultimate sugar high. I just love a beautiful glass of Sauvignon Blanc. Lately I’ve been liking Oyster bay. This is an expensive, fattening and unhealthy habit. Every time I think of having to give it up I become heartsore.

This week I’m trying to be good about that, and so far I haven’t managed it even once.

I tell myself it’s my way of dealing with the tension that I feel. And it is. It was. It doesn’t really work, so I might as well admit it and forgo those extra carbs, since I still remain feeling pretty tense in the evenings. Why is that? Why can I just not relax? Why can I not just fall asleep and then sleep all the way through most nights? Is there something peculiar about my personal chemistry? I’ve been like this since I was 8, long before I was able to try and self-medicate. I was looking at old photos the other day, and noticed that even at 8, I was always pale and had dark circles around my eyes. I’ve tried meditation, I’m still trying meditation. I’ve tried intense physical activity to exhaust myself, and yes, finishing early enough in the day to not cause me to be hyped up at night. Hot baths, warm baths, hot milk. Prayer. Making my bedroom a sanctuary (that was difficult, since my bedroom has some sort of weird static attraction for the flotsam and jetsam of the house). Nevertheless, here it is, 4:09 and I’ve been awake and typing since 3am. Woke up to pee, went back to bed and realized sleep was not going to come and why lie there all frustrated? Enough complaining.

I’ll do the walking again today. I’ve got some leftovers dished up for myself from last night, mostly salad, but I could just take a Slim Fast. It’s another day about to begin….My car is empty of gas, have to leave at least a half hour earlier to fill it up. I need to mail some birthday cards at some point today and I have an optometrist’s appointment this evening. We’ll do leftovers tonight, tough beanaroonies if the kids and Neil don’t want that.

My eldest is coming home by bus on Friday, and on Sunday she and I and my middle daughter are doing the Susan G. Komen walk/run for the cure. That’s something happy to look forward to, eh? Couldn’t talk my youngest into joining us. Damn. She misses out on so much.

The drama with my sister and family, mostly my mom, is still unfolding. I haven’t spoken to her in ages because I just don’t know how to begin. To me, the foundation of our relationship has changed. We’re not in the same place anymore, but where are we? How do you go from here? Carefully, I suppose.

I’ve been whipping through the house, gradually fixing things. I’ll write more about these endeavors some other time. I’m signing up for a Tuesday night knitting group that starts October 14th. I do not knit, but, apart from word crafting, I long to do something creative with my hands. We are each going to knit a beautiful sweater. All exciting things.

Ah Feathers, SoClose, Annie, Ella, everyone, I screwed up again. I did not sign up in time for the writing class. I was worried about the old moola. I was waiting for this Friday’s payday, which was just a bit too late. As it happens, youngest daughter, our Bolshevik, the one who has been trouble finding her way, has asked to go to cosmetology school. She found the school, asked me to go with her for the tour, which was last night. Well, Bob’s your uncle, I applied for a tuition loan right there and then and to my surprise was accepted. So, dd3, in 10 months, will graduate with a license and an accreditization of some sort to be a beautician. She will learn to cut and color and highlight hair and perm it and do it up and she will learn facials and and nail care and waxing. The main emphasis is on the hair part, though, and they have a policy to find their students jobs at the end. Their “products” that they work with are Redken and Mac. There was an immediate $150 registration fee, then another $240 due on Monday. There went Mama’s writing class! Am I a martyr? Heck no. Do I feel like one? No again.

I am searching for a blog site for beginning writers. I am searching also, for a teacher. I think - no - I feeeeel an idea for a book. It’s been there for a long time. I suspect I could only have that one idea in me. On the other hand, I have strong, strong opinions on everything. Please, did any of you ever read Marianna Frederickson’s “Hannah’s Daughters”? I was so moved by this book. My idea, my story is so similar. I don’t want to rewrite her book, I don’t want to do it better, I just want to record the story that I know. I want to acknowledge to the world the marvellous women that I have known. I have not practiced the real craft of writing for many years, and this is why I need a course. I need to learn the steps.

Meanwhile, the lifestyle changes have been, well, evolving!

I am NOT in the weight loss groove that I was in a few weeks back. Groove it was. I do know (intimately, my dears) how to get it back, but I’ve been doing nothing about it.

I told you that I “lost” my sister, well, that’s how it feels. And my 2nd oldest friend of 27 years emailed me that she felt she could no longer be friends with me. The two losses happened on the same day. I thought I was handling both with such equanimity. My sister I will always love, no matter what, I’m just effing mad at her right now. My old friend…well, that’s an odd situation. We’ve been physically miles and miles apart for so many years, and I know our lives are so different. Despite this, she has been a constant in my life, someone I have always believed to be a soulmate, and a touchstone, and I thought maybe I had been the same for her. The one friend you never need to explain yourself to. I never agreed with her politics in the beginning of our friendship - she was, at 19, a recent refugee of sorts from a war - the war of Zimbabwe’s independence and was bitter. Over the years she seems to have mellowed in her opinion towards Africans, but it has always been the stance of a white African. It’s just there. Have you ever read Doris Lessing or Alexandra Fuller? If you are interested in such things, do. Both of them explain this attitude, this position, so truthfully and without guile. Nadine Gorimer is perhaps the classical music to Fuller’s pop. But Fuller writes to the majority; she’s accessible to everyone, whereas, I feel Nadine Gordimer (and J.M. Coetzee, too), despite some content or plot, recognizable to us all, writes to a more exalted group. Anyway, forget white African guilt….since we could never really meet on any real ground when it came to politics, we glossed? (not sure if that’s the appropriate word, maybe avoided is better) over it all. I told you she told me, bluntly, simply, we can no longer be friends. Ouch, that.

On Friday, I was told that my friend at work, J., the Orthodox Jewish man, the obscenely highly paid consultant that noone actually liked except me and two guys from India, had been let go. He’s probably the smartest person I’ve ever met. We’ve fought for ten years, he’s made me so mad I’ve entertained thoughts of sabotaging his PC at work (unplug it a little, so it won’t start easily….dribble water into the monitor). I’ve loathed him. He made me cry not so long ago. He’s caused me to second and third guess myself so many times, and it’s not fair. Sometimes the ideas I’ve had he’s claimed don’t make sense, and then presented them to our team! Shmuck. Bastard. Yet, I’ll miss him like nobody I’ve ever missed before! What am I ever going to do without a truly TRULY educated and smart person to listen to, ask questions of, argue with, learn from? The only other person I can think of that I’ve ever known who is as smart as this person is my dad, except my dad was a shmuck, and drank himself to death before I could get up the skill to argue properly with him.

So, I find myself in the embarassing position of TEARING UP at odd moments, like some big, effing GIRL! Thinking of my friend not being there for me to fight with anymore just undoes me. I wonder if he even likes or respects me at all? I have never ever never been a crier before. It embarrasesses me no end. I’ve just turned 47, my periods are still as regular as clockwork; am I in peri-menopause? Are these embarrassing moments of tears related to that? I’ve joked about it before in this blog, but the tears thing is new. I wake up in the night drenched, but that’s been happening since my 30’s, so I’m kinda confused.

Oh well, no writers blog, no class, no sister, no friends.

Daughters and husband are well. Mother is okay. My mom was happy from the outings, but a little bit full of small physical complaints, which she describes so well. She even does media presentations (hand gestures) to describes the various aspects of what’s happening to her. At times…TMI. Dogs…okay. Shelby had two really seriously bad seizures this past week after weeks/months of none. There’s another heartbreak for you.

I found a writing class. I’m going to try and sign up on Tuesday… I have to find a new blogspot for the writing.

Here? Well, I’ve been eating all too well lately, savoring my food with appreciation. I live a good life, I enjoy wonderful food. Recent events have me in a spin, fighting really, that temptation to fall into the abyss, (I’m NOT going there anymore, NOT), and trying to notice the good parts of my life. Noticing them, I am. I am asking my senses to wake up, and of course, taste is such a big sense. I love how we eat at home, how we cook and appreciate every bit of what we do, how we live in an area with so many different cultures, and so many wonderful places to experience the food of these cultures. I am loving my bowls and my pots and my pans. I do have excellent things! Now, how to be this way, love these things without becoming the third Fat Lady!

So. Wore the size 12 capris from my week-end in July with our daughter in Virginia. They’re snug. My face is as round as ever. I still have quite a nice bum, though! But my boobs are just too big, and the whole top half of me is that of a hearty well fed Dutch farm girl. Bloody ‘ell. Despite my philosophical leanings to understand what life is about, what it means, I still have a strong sense of vanity. Can you have both? Does the universe allow this?

My mum and I drove up to Cold Spring(s?), a cute little town on the Hudson river in Putnam County, New York. Oy Vey, lovely town with gorgeous old buildings and antique stores. About 8 miles before Cold Springs, on the 9D North, I saw a hand lettered cardboard sign “Tag Sale”. I screeched to a stop. Just checking Mum! Stay here. I bought a brown stoneware (about 3qts) Pfaltzgraf bowl (breaking up a set, how sad) for $5. I bought 3 broaches for $1 each, a fake pearl circle, a big blue stone set in fake marquesite, and a sterling silver cat. I also bought a $3 Claddaugh ring, sterling silver, made in Ireland (so the claim on the inside), for my daughter R, of the Roseannie perfume. When I climbed back into the car, I immediately pinned the pearl circle on my mum’s scarf. She was so chuffed, you would have thought it was real pearls. There was also a ceramic paella bowl thing there for $6 that I coveted but did not buy. I chatted with the sellers. The woman who was in charge told me she was having to sell her home. I said I hoped it was for a happy reason, but she did not reply.

My mother and I went on to Cold Spring, and walked around, had lunch and chatted to people. My mom had a lovely time, so she tells me. I didn’t buy a single thing there, the prices were too far out of my range. On the way back home, we passed the tag sale, and I almost caused a traffic accident (sorry, I am a shit driver) as I tried to stop and turn in. I bought the paella bowl, asked after a second Claddaugh ring I had seen and traded macaroni and cheese recipes with a man from Maine who said he also used the paella bowl as a wonderful mac & cheese bowl. I spent a grand total of $16 at the tag sale and came home as happy as can be.

Tonight’s salad was prepared in the Pfalzgraf dish, and I roasted potatoes and onions in the paella dish. I polished the Claddaugh ring and gave it to Roseannie.

You won’t know this, but Roseannie has her own special smell, I call it Roseannie perfume. It is a “just there”, not very strong, slightly sweet and gentle smell that I’ve always noticed about her. Well guess what? Maya the puppy has it too. It’s just by her soft ears and across the top of her head. I figured it out. This is the smell of a sweet soul.

I’ve been thinking for awhile that the time has come from some changes. I want to write, but maybe this is not the right venue. I still love peeking in here throughout the day to see what everyone is up to and I always come away with new ideas for all sorts of things from how to make exercise more enjoyable, or recipes or great books, or just to connect with another human being in, considering how many people I live with, what sometimes seems to be a lonely day. BTW I’m reading Amy Tan’s “Saving Fish from Drowning”. So far, I am liking it.

It took me an awfully long time to figure out how to pull all of these words out of this blogspace and into some readable/printable format for posterity. Who knew that it would be so hard to convert an xml document to word or text? Blech.

The next bit is only semi Geek-ese. My IT colleagues should/would roll their eyes if they see my solution….hey, I’m a data base gal, they don’t let me write for the front end anymore. Too old, I think. I had quite a job figuring out how to save my words from this blog, and I thought I’d share. I tried to be clear. Feel free to send me a note or a question if I haven’t.

For any of you that have this problem too….here’s what finally worked for me - some of my steps may be unecessary from a tech point of view, and I can’t tell you which ones, but in the end it worked for me:

First - at home I’m running the XP operating system. I used to have XP professional, but I think this one may be a later version. This seems to make a difference to how things came out. My work PC is different and the same things I tried on the work PC came out very differently.

Here, in 3fc, I went to Manage, and clicked on the Settings option, which is now waaaaaaay over to the far right.

From there, under “writing”, I changed the maximum number of posts to display on a page to 500 (I had 277 posts in all, so far, so make that number of posts to display at least as big as the number of posts you have). What this does… is pull everything you’ve written onto the screen after you’ve clicked on print - not just the few pages you’re usually looking at on the screen. I also changed the number of lines to display for a post to 500. This may have been unnecessary, but the idea was I wanted everything, not just half of the post with the little “more” at the end of a paragraph or two. Once you’ve changed these settings, just go and view your blog and click on print. You should get ALL your posts and all the lines in each post. You don’t have to use up all your ink and actually print, you can also just save your print-out to a file (using Microsoft’s Document Imaging if you have it, or, if you’re lucky and have it, Acrobat (usually some part of Acrobat can be downloaded free from the internet) - so you can save it to a PDF), gives you a really nice printable format. You can always really print it all out later. That was my option 1.

Option 2, which worked better for me at home was to use the RSS Feed under the title of “Meta” directly on my blog page to “feed” to myself first the blog, then the comments. Before using that option, I went back to Manage, then settings (waaaay right) and changed the Reading settings as follows (again, to be sure I was able to “pull” everything): Blog Pages show at most 300 posts, and Syndication (that’s the RSS) feeds show the most recent 300 posts. When you click on the RSS feed, smart software pulls your posts and places them into an XML file. If you do this from IE on my home computer, you get a very nicely formatted document that even has any pictures in it that you’ve published. Now this was the bugger - how to get that document saved as a WORD doc? Well I couldn’t. Dammit. I am not clever enough. So I printed it, just as I described above, saving the print-out to a file instead of actually printing. The advantage here, to me, was the prettier (I was going to go all IT on you and say “superior”) formatting.

LOVE,

RubyJean