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.