Homestretch

I am like that horse the dude ranches have. The one who breaks rank at the end of the trail and runs madly for the barn. The unlucky rider bouncing along, hanging on for dear life as his not so trusty mount heads for the oat bin.

It's not just dinner that draws me like iron filings to a magnet. Although I have to admit I sometimes count the minutes till it's time to eat. Anything I do that is nearing an end drains my patience and self control until I can barely withhold my need to finish up and get there.

I have been carefully watching what I eat since July. In August I began eliminating almost all sugar and salt and by September first I was also not eating meat. I do get some salt because it is in my one piece of toast, the pat of Irish butter and the chick peas when I can't find dry ones to cook myself, but I keep it below eight hundred mg. a day.

I only strayed a couple of times on two family members birthdays. Otherwise I have been a very conscientious consumer for over two months. Next Monday I have blood tests done and I am anxious to see how they compare with ones done in July of this year.

Suddenly it feels harder not to stray, or overeat for the first time. I don't know why that is because this is supposed to be a life style change. I have no intention of returning to my old habits again.

I will just be glad when I can see the numbers. (And I hope they are good.)

The prodigal patient

Nearly sixteen years ago I left my dentist when my insurance left me.

I spent years brushing and polishing. I gargled gallons of Listerine and even did a little scraping on my own here and there.

But after sixty seven years my baby eye tooth gave up the ghost. I put him under my pillow, but the tooth fairy let me down.

This week things changed.

No the tooth fairy did not come.

I went to the dentist. She pulled out the tiny shard still left in my gum from that baby tooth and offered it to me. She said maybe if I put both pieces under my pillow the tooth fairy would come.

Now I'm looking for a tooth fairy with a big heart. (And three thousand dollars.)

Storm clouds and sunshine

It is so much easier to write passionately about what I don't like. The metaphors roll off my lips like logs floating down a river and the only jam is the strawberry on my toast.

I've always had niggling questions about why that is.

I think part of it is that humans are hard wired to be passionate about ridding themselves of problems. Roadblocks along life's way were meant to be overcome and the people most passionate about that are lauded by those who benefit from it too.

Another part is a little less obvious. We like to think we are happy, sunshiny people who dance around thinking the glass is half full, that lemons were made just for lemonade and even storm clouds have a silver lining, but . . .

My world is relentlessly harsh on those who are Pollyanna-ish, calling them dreamers and star gazers. Implying that they don't see the forest for the trees, the boulders under the waters of life, the teeth that will bite the hand that feeds them. In other words I suspect them of turning a blind eye to the realities of the real world. I try to invalidate their thoughts and perceptions because either they really are not valid, or I am threatened by my own inability to see things from that point of view.

It takes courage to talk about the beauty of life when hell is raging all around me, when the top man in the country is a spiteful manipulator and policemen are armed and dangerous.

The truth is that nothing is absolute. In the worst of times there are moments of bliss that crop up if I have the eyes, the will, and the determination to see them.

Just wondering

I am reluctant to say this, because it sounds like a cop out, but my body seems to do better when left to its own ways and means in many instances.

My blood pressure medicine seems to work, but that is after years of experimenting and dealing with tons of adverse reactions. Other medicines mostly seem to do more harm than good.

My joints are my weakest parts, but they heal best when left alone to do their thing. Add physical therapy or soft casts and it seems to make things worse.

If I eat right and stop doing things that cause pain, I seem to bounce back from most things, at least so far.

It makes me think that barring common sense, some poverty can be a blessing. Not being able to run to the doctor for every little complaint might have saved me a ton of misery.

Return to the woods

There is something magical about walking alone in the woods. It feels like anything is possible.

The chilly autumnal sunlight reflects off of damp trees and leaves creating an other worldly mist that could house the most fantastic adventures.

I follow the deer paths. Watch for the unusual leaves, the huge crimson ones and serrated gold ones. Around every bend is a new possibility.

The silence here is so intense I can hear an invisible deer thumping across wet moss somewhere beyond the path. The sound of a red tailed hawk shooting out of a tree to catch some distant field mouse sounds like a cannon to my ears.

Suddenly I hear trampling feet running nearby. I can tell they carry something very large and heavy and it terrifies me until I hear mooing and notice a bull on the other side of an electric fence.

The walking is easy, but not for me. Each walnut and hedge apple challenge feet still recovering from modern medicine, but my heart is full and I am so glad I came to these woods today.

Magical creatures

How exactly do we find the people who are the most important to us?

That family of the heart, who may, or may not be, blood.

They are the magical creatures I read about in myths and legends.

Rare creatures who fill in soul holes in such fulfilling ways, such unique ways, such beautiful ways, that it is hard to even describe them.

Sometimes it takes a while before I recognize who they are, but there are signs.

The overflowing heart. The surprising warmth. The glow that lingers long after they are out of sight.

Standing in the wind

Rushing across the parking lot, dodging wind and rain and splashing through puddles, I suddenly imagined myself being chased by a tyrannosaurus rex!

Not because I felt threatened, but because it flashed across my mind that this same wind and rain might have fallen on it -- way back when!

And that began a long train of thought that vastly interrupted my trip to Barnes and Noble.

Had my cheek been brushed by the same molecules that ran over Lincoln's face when he walked the streets of Springfield? Or was I feeling the puddle my son and grandchildren played in out in Seattle?

Is it possible that I could blow a kiss to Bestest and he would catch it when he walked his dog next week?

Or that, maybe, my mother blew a kiss to me when I was three and it got caught up in the wind and just now got here today . . .

Blessings

The words best friends once summoned up pictures of two children two years apart, who sat giggling on the front porch chaise lounge, sharing secrets. Innocence framed in fears that it was not innocent. Joy mirroring relief at the baring of two souls blessed with each other.

Those times are impossible to replicate and yet . . .

Best friends now summons up pictures of two adults a generation apart, giggling on their Iphones. Still sharing secrets. Still innocent. And still feeling joy because they are blessed with each other.

Motions

Going through the motions.

That's what they teach you. Go through the motions.

Do what you're supposed to do.

But going through the motions plays down the e

It's the emotions that need to be gone through

The motions are just those actors upon a stage

The ones fretting over someone else's words.

But emotions . . .  man are they tough!

Confidence

I like rewards.

The only problem with being me is that it's hard to deny myself things I really want, so a reward could become meaningless.

I wanted to go out to dinner with some friends, but they were going to a pasta place where I knew I could easily consume a day's worth of salt, fats, and carbs in one meal. I can do this by not eating the other two meals, or eating only half of this meal, but I went there a few weeks ago and it cannot become an everyday thing.

So . . . I decided if I met my weight goal for that day I would go. It seemed a sure thing.

Only it wasn't. I woke up and was over a half pound too heavy. I stayed home.

It wasn't easy, but it will mean more if I make it tomorrow and can go to the coffee at Starbucks, because I will know I earned it. Two different sets of friends. Two different venues. Both are fun though.

These decisions make me more sure of myself as I progress down this road to healthier eating. I feel like I am going to be able to maintain this weight loss for the long term and that is important.

Confidence is a secure feeling and I like that.

Unfair

Sometimes it feels unfair.

I eat all the right foods. Drink lots of water. Get plenty of sleep. Work up a sweat almost every day and still things go wrong.

My left knee kept me up most of last night and made everything I did difficult today. I don't know if it is related to the Lipitor I took for a month before stopping it, or not. Joints have always been the weakest parts of my body.

I still got up and went to my volunteer job today and I still managed to get everything done there, but it was not easy.

It really feels unfair, but then I think of people like my granddaughter who has cerebral palsy. She was born with a debilitating disease. Now that is truly unfair.

Library Days

My volunteer days vary from two to four a week and they are some of my favorite days of the week. I was volunteering in an elementary school library today and it occurred to me that I have been working in one library, or another for over 40 years. Most of it as a volunteer, but not all if you count State Farm's Corporate Library.

I only took one Library Science course in college and while I enjoyed it, it never really occurred to me to become a librarian.

To be honest, the things I do now are things librarians in schools don't get to do much anymore. I check books in and out, make reports of over due and lost books, contact parents via emails, or letters, shelve books, and keep track of who gets to choose a prize for bringing back their books. I get to pick books for the kindergartners to choose from and help anyone who comes in asking for help.

Occasionally I have to corral rambunctious children, but most of the time the unpleasant things are left to the librarian.

It's the best of all worlds.

Me too

It has been difficult for me to write this. I keep feeling that somehow this is different, that I was not sexually harassed. That's what I told myself at the time too.

But I had nightmares after it and sometimes I still have nightmares that I am saying, "no" to deaf ears, because I did say, "No." I said it over and over again. I even threatened to tell his mother, but of course I didn't.

Instead I felt dirty, violated, like I had done something wrong. Each time for a long time, because I stopped saying no after enough times. That makes it feel like I wasn't really violated too. Deciding that it was okay in the end.

But the point is: I said, "No," the first time, the second time, and many more times. So why did I continue to be with him? Partly because I was not at home. I was visiting his family and partly because I felt maybe I was wrong to feel this way. I thought maybe you were supposed to do these things even if you didn't want to. And he never acknowledged my dissent. He didn't even pause.

The sad part is that it had a long lasting and negative effect on my life.

And really his too.

Most of us

Wanting something can make us do things we should never do if we aren't careful.

I took an oil painting class many years ago. My teacher was trained at the Sorbonne and was an excellent artist, but the thing she did for me that I value the most was teaching me to see colors.

Not just blue, green red, but cornflower blue, azure blue, cerulean blue, dusty blue, blue green and on and on and on. Colors, like life, have so many shades.

There is a depth caused by the pigment and the medium, the artist who uses it and the light it is seen by. No two people ever really see it the same way. They may see it close enough to name it, but there is no way for expressing the feelings it brings, the nuances it shivers up our spines, the ecstasy, or despair it brews in our souls.

Most things in life are very similar.

We connect, but we do not merge, at least most of us.

Relationships

How often have I opted not to have a conversation about something because it felt awkward, or dangerous?

Pretending that everything is alright when it isn't makes about as much sense as toting water in a holey bucket.

Why make things harder than they already are?

A calm discussion by two people who care enough to want the best for each other can sometimes work miracles.

And if you can't have a calm discussion, or you can't want the best for the other person, or you don't care enough to resolve this difference -- maybe it's time to move on.

Relationships can grow into beautiful, deep, meaningful moments, or a string of long sad ones.

Back then

How often have women listened to men say, "That is what we did then. It was considered okay." Or, "It's a witch hunt today."

But did people really think it was okay? Is it truly a witch hunt?

If they did why did no one talk about it that way? Instead they downplayed everything, claiming the woman exaggerated things, misunderstood, even made them up to feel more important than she was.

This kind of reaction not only negated the experience, it made the woman feel she had no right to feel the way she did, that somehow her view was flawed and her feelings the most inappropriate part of the whole event.

Change

The difference between a diet and a lifestyle change is continually moving back to the plan.

I don't want to just change my eating habits until my blood tests improve, or I lose enough weight.  I want to change the way my body works and the way I feel.

This month has been hard.

With the best of intentions, I had to weather three birthdays and a luncheon with friends who love to eat. I love to eat too and I was able to make it through a good portion of this until yesterday when I ate both beef and sugar.

I have to say my intentions were to have salad until I realized their salad was close to a thousand calories and I knew I wouldn't eat just half of it. I chose a sandwich with half those calories, but it was still a cop out.

Today I managed to go out for coffee with some other friends and eat a Mediterranean breakfast sandwich made with egg whites, cheese and vegetables. Then for dinner I had my usual salad. If nothing else, it makes me feel like I might succeed at this.

Disappointment

Part of the joy in everything is looking forward to it, but a part of me is always afraid to do that.

What if they let me down? What if it falls through? What if I am wrong about how they feel, or it is supposed to be?

These are the questions that dull the glow of extraordinary situations.

It's about more than trust, because there can be good reasons to cancel something, or change it.

So where does trust come into the picture? Confidence in the person canceling to understand what they are doing and to reschedule something just as good or better.

Without that joy is a ride down disappointment alley.

Nature

Fortunately, or unfortunately, our life is about us. Mine is about me. Yours is about you. Trump's is about Trump's.

He may take it to an obscene extreme, but other people take theirs to the opposite end. Living your whole life for someone else, even something else, is sometimes exalted in our society, but it is unnatural.

Being consumed by your love makes for an entirely different species. It reminds me of Al Capp's shmoos who could turn themselves into roasts, or whatever was wanted. That kind of being lives only to make the creatures around it happy.

Happiness dependent on someone else is a tragedy waiting to happen.

We are social creatures, but that does not define us if we want to be whole, full bodied, healthy, contributing members of our society.

When I learn to take care of myself I am learning the utmost inner lesson about taking care of others. I will never understand another as intimately as I do myself, so the better I am at taking care of me, the better that can translate into caring for whatever is outside of me.

Of course that assumes I have a healthy, relatively balanced nature and a desire to spread that all around.

Memories

Having no Internet access does not sound like a big deal to some people, but it left me with no access to most of my friends for nearly twenty four hours.

It also left me without the access to research that I didn't realize I had become accustomed too. No looking up songs, or poetry, pictures, or articles as the mood struck me.

I could not play solitaire because I have no actual cards. I could not play Words with Friends because my phone would not allow me to see anything with pictures in it.

I could not even watch television because I use the Internet to do that.

Today the cable guy replaced my modem with a new higher powered one that connects to my Roku directly and everything returned to normal.

I spent last night reading, which is wonderful, but it used up most of the new book I just bought.

Fortunately, I can go to the library, or order another book soon, but it reminded me of my childhood when books were so precious, especially if I wanted ones I had not previously read.

The hat

I rub my fingers across its fuzzy bill

Admire the embroidered flowers on the front

Imagine it sliding down over her bristly head

Shading her eyes even as they light up

Giving her freedom

To skip through the zoo

Admiring the animals

And not cringing at her own reflection.

Light

Negative emotions are like bacteria. They seem to find a way to grow without much help. No one ever went to a counselor and asked for help finding the hate.

Unlike bacteria though, there isn't an easy fix for ridding ourselves of these harmful things. No vaccine. No antibacterial cleaner. No car wash for muddied souls.

Kind of like trying to light a room one pixel at a time, it takes patience, persistence, and a real desire to get the job done.

It can be frustrating. Like there is a soul eating monster in there eating up the light as fast as we move it into place and there is no guaranteed way to even find the light.

But it can happen. Sometimes medicine unlocks the door. Mostly though it seems like a skylight appears and the dark can be moved up and out with conscientious hard work.

The trick is not to collect it like some cherished old treasure.

Because it is not.

Priorities

Time is personal.

Ebbing and flowing in ephemeral clouds

Allowing us to do the impossible

Stretching to fit our priorities

Shrinking to save our sanity

Becoming a custom made life

In spite of what we say

Special days

Special days need to be special.

Otherwise how will we remember them as any different from regular days?

It if is truly the best of times then it might be harder to find something better, but not impossible.

If it is the worst of times then it should be easy to find almost anything better.

And if you don't know which it is -- you are a most fortunate person.

Effort counts a lot!

Homemade gifts may seem passé, or unremarkable, but they are the very best ones of all.

So sit down, put on your thinking cap and get your hands busy.

Time to create a special day!

Today and tomorrow

I wrote this thot on October 3, 2008 and found it in my memories on Facebook today. I don't put My Thots there anymore, but this one intrigued me.

It's a balancing act

I sit on a teeter totter, high up in the air with love and gratitude, looking at my other side. She is down there, almost on the ground, glaring at me with uncharitable hostility. How dare I ignore her and choose to live in this beautiful moment? How dare I fill myself with light and love and leave her full of weighty issues that must be solved?
...
I know she would like to get off, but not because she has something better to do. She would like to see me plunk down from my lofty height and land with such a jarring thud against the ground that my teeth rattle. It seems to be her job to manifest a lifetime's frustrations and disappointments and miseries and she is pretty good at it. Sometimes she will rush in front of me when I look into a mirror, or grab my hand when I am paying bills, or sit up and talk to me all night long so I don't get any sleep.

But not today. Today I am enjoying it up here. In fact I am going to go swing on the big swings until the wind blows my hair straight out and the clouds kiss my toes! I start to plan how I will get from here to there without letting that dark creature down there jump on my back and go with me. There..... really doesn't seem to be any way. She has a lot of years to practice. She is like a little cosmic vampire, clinging onto my thoughts with a ravenous desire to feed upon the light I have and devour it with her darkness. She is too ephemeral and insubstantial for me to plunge a stake through her heart and for that I am grateful. Once I do that we will be one and I will never find her again.

Climbing carefully down from my lovely high, I walk over and take her hand, pull her with me to the swings. Today I will hold her close, hug her with both arms and take her swinging with me.

Variables

Life is one long experiment and about the time I figure things out, something changes.

The variable is always there. Mixing things up. Keeping me on my toes.

Waiting for me to figure out that it isn't the end result I'm looking for.

It's the right combination of ingredients under particular circumstances.

(Which just makes figuring out the variables more like factoring than adding.)

I think that's why people believe in magic. If feels magical when I find a recipe for something that really works.

For example: Losing weight isn't hard if:

I eat foods that feel decadent to me. (Maybe not to you, but me, so things like eggs, avocados, toast,  blue cheese.)

I feel good and don't have bad dreams.

I get to eat as much as I want at least one meal a day.

These things leave me satisfied inside and out.

Then, of course, there is the added carrot of watching the scale go down and giving me numerous places to record that as well.

I need a lot of rewards and almost zero resistance, but I can get that right now.

Fall

Fall seems like such a simple word for the season I love most. I am sure it is because the leaves fall off the trees, but after looking up the etymology of Autumn and Fall, I was surprised to learn that it is considered a season of melancholia.

Not for me!

Some cultures considered it backend, or the end of possibilities, or harvest time. I have always thought of it as a time for new beginnings.

The air goes from the stultifying, overgrown heat of August to the fresh, cool, even chilly temperatures of October and November and I'm willing to wait through September to experience that.

The world takes on the basic reds, yellows and browns of Autumnal leaves and then presents the gorgeous bare bones of trees all across the land.

School is starting and the prospect of a whole new year hangs deliciously juicy and rich right above my head.

Mornings are often cloudy and cozy followed by crisp clear blue and white afternoon skies.

The sun feels just a bit more welcome and the breezes caress my soul with possibilities.

I love Fall!