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