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.