Goodbye 2017

What a year this has been!

It started out hard and got harder, yet it has ended up as one of the best years yet. So many years in the past were difficult in ways that made this year's hard seem like nothing even though it was life threatening.

I managed to turn my health around in ways I never dreamed were possible, but appear to be manageable as long as I don't give up.

My social life is richer and fuller and so different than I ever imagined it.

I spent today with two people I love very much and I feel so fulfilled.

Tonight I broke all the dieting and healthy rules, but for some reason this holiday felt worth that and I know in the morning I will start the new year out in the best of ways.

The fireworks are starting outside. The weather is frigid. The cat has disappeared. I have drawn a picture, am writing My Thots and life is good.

Reality

I have struggled with the concept of reality all my life.

What is it? How does it work? Where are the boundaries between wishful thinking, persistence, hard work, luck, fate, bad luck, and cold hard science?

How much of my life is really in my hands?

Intellect tells me it is about fifty fifty. If I work hard, do the right things, then life will be as good as possible. The laws of science say gravity will keep me grounded, that I am made of the same substances that everything else on earth is made of, that I am subject to the same vagaries as all the other things on this earth. Fires, floods, droughts, wars, finances, health are not always within my control.

Experience tells me that I have more control than I dare to dream, or want to be responsible for (sometimes.) The positive part of this is that when I really want something badly enough, I often find a way to get it. The frightening part is that when I am lax, about the way I live, think, or not being honest with myself about what I really need to do in order to get what I want to achieve, I may be the biggest saboteur of me around.

When life is good I want all the credit. When it is not, I want someone,or something, to blame.

Yet I have the distinct feeling that my health, happiness, and general well being could be more than ninety percent dependent on me. My feelings belong to me. Everyone of them originates inside of me. Other people have influenced me and shaped me, but that doesn't mean what they said, or did, or do, is the absolute final truth. Feelings can be shaped and reshaped and I need to take both the responsibility and actual control of my own.

I am the creator of my own life. I may not be able to control the circumstances around me, but if I can control the circumstances inside me -- life is so much better.

It is a frightening thought to think I have so much power, but it is also a good feeling. Nothing is worse than feeling powerless, but with power comes responsibility. I am not a pawn in other people's lives. I am a living, breathing, creator of my own reality.

Good ideas

In a world that seems bent on suffering I am not a good candidate. I do not like suffering. In fact, I'm kind of a wuss. I enjoy comfort -- a lot.

I have friends who get up at the crack of dawn and go exercise at the Hospital Health Club. I don't know when they start, but they are finished well before 7 AM. The thought of spending my retirement getting up that early to drive somewhere for a class that everyone posts things about on Facebook that say: Really good class today, every muscle in my body hurts. Jane worked us hard today, I thought I was going to die twice. These are not my idea of good ideas.

I need to find things I enjoy if I am going to do them over and over for any extended period of time. I used to play tennis. I love tennis! Now I am so out of shape that playing tennis is pretty much limited to people like Bestest, who makes all kinds of allowances for me. But I can walk and now it is icy and snowy I decided to walk at different stores. Today I went to Eastland Mall and it was amazing.

I looked at clothes and still managed to walk over 2.5 miles averaging 21 minutes per mile. That's as good as I do trying to hoof it around the park and ten times more interesting right now.

The same goes for eating. I am eating a combination of some of my favorite foods. The only thing I am doing is limiting them to two meals, but they are filling and I feel really good.

For me, healthy is going to have to be enjoyable. I just don't have the will power, or desire, to keep up with anything else for the long haul.

Singing in the cold

Back in the salad again. Back where avocado's my friend. Where the romaine fills the bowl and the carrots are grated whole. Back in the salad again.

Two days back to be exact, but I put on a shocking amount of weight in three days. My clothes still fit, but my scale is groaning.

And the funny thing is, the soup was really good, the butter and rolls wonderful, and the truffles amazing, but my salad tonight really felt just as decadent.

I'm pulling out all the stops now.

I do not want to die in pieces by diabetes, or of a heart attack from clogged arteries and I really would prefer not to age at all, so I'm doing the best I know how.

Love and memories

I am not the kind of woman who really appreciates jewelry.

Most of the time.

However, I do have one great love. I love platinum, or white gold hoop earrings. I will wear them every single day, for every single event and the beauty of them is that they are both appropriate and beautiful for each and every one.

The disadvantage is that they are pricey, so when I lost one of my small platinum hoops this Fall, I was heartbroken.

But Bestest talked to Santa and he brought me a lovely pair of larger, perfect ones for Christmas. I'd told him not to, but nothing could have pleased me more.

Now I not only have a pair of earrings to wear all the time, they are earrings that came packed in love and memories of the bestest friend I've ever had.

Tradition

Tis the day before Christmas and all through the apartment, the smell of my chowder signals department. The sausage is vegetarian, the vegetables too, but the scent is reminiscent of things that are true.

There's love in the yeast rolls and that Irish butter pulls, all the heart strings that are necessary, to make us feel bold. The pie will be pumpkin, topped with whipped cream and my taste buds are already starting to scream.

The people are coming with presents tomorrow and with snow on the ground there can be no more sorrow.

We're jolly and happy and filled with true love.

Cause it's Christmas in Normal and it fits like a glove.

The Christmas Truffle

Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.
                                  Winston Churchill

Sometimes the highs are so high that I plummet off of them like a space shuttle hurtling back into earth's atmosphere.

After writing about surviving this holiday season so well, I crashed and burned tonight after buying truffles for Christmas Day. It was like I suspect an alcoholic must feel when there is beer in the house. Those little bags just sat on my counter calling to me like little lost souls begging to be eaten.

I ate just one. Not unreasonable. Then I ate two. I left them in the kitchen, so I had to go back for both of them, but the sack said a serving was three -- so why not finish off the serving? Right? And then, LET THE EATING BEGIN!

I had three or four more truffles, two pieces of sprouted grain toast with butter and yogurt blue cheese (because it was the only cheese in the house) and two fried eggs all times three! Then I had two more pieces of toast with butter and blue cheese. And finally my regular salad for the night minus the carrots, which, you know, saved me a ton of calories.

No doubt about it, sugar is my trigger.

Now I have to suck it up and start again tomorrow.

Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts. Winston Churchill
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/failure

Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts. Winston Churchill
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/failure

Feeling good

Five months of healthy eating is starting to change my life.

My weight has dropped noticeably. My blood pressure is down in the 127/60 area. I have so much energy it amazes even me.

I've made it through several birthdays, Thanksgiving and this holiday season in ways I am almost positive I can maintain.

It makes me feel really good about myself in so many ways.

Today I received the coat I ordered and it fits! It barely fits, but that's okay, because I intend to lose more weight, so there is room to grow -- in!

And tonight someone told me I looked fantastic!

I cannot tell you what that meant to me.

Amazing is

Christmas has been amazing this year and the only thing that is really different is me.

I am able to be happy, or at least satisfied, with things the way they are.

It is not what I have dreamed it could be. It is not what I once thought it should be. It is not even what many people would consider wonderful, but for me -- it is.

In a world constantly torn by nasty people I am surrounded by some of the best people in the world and the peace that brings is shockingly awesome.

Peace on earth is a nice thought, but it is a little too sweeping to be a real possibility. Peace in my life has turned out to be much more manageable.

I guess we have to start close with the hope that it will spread out like ripples in a pond, or sunlight on a lake. Some day it may reach the shore, or fill the depths, but for now it's a start.

I am amazed how simple that is.

Responsibility

Growing up and taking responsibility for yourself is never easy.

I have a grandchild with some special needs who is trying to live independently this year - without her sister or parents.

It means paying her own bills and rent, and riding the bus to get around town.

I am proud of her. She volunteers for the food pantry and has a bus pass and does a pretty good job most of the time.

Still, like all of us, she would find it easier if people would just pick her up and drive her where she needs to go. I've had to turn her down twice this week. Once because she let her bus pass expire and had no way to go pick up her new glasses. Then when she didn't allow herself enough time to get to the dentist.

It is never easy saying no, but she needs to learn how to plan ahead and deal with this sort of problem.

She figured out how to renew her bus pass and got her glasses the next day. I'm sure she will also figure out how to get to the dentist on time after today.

Growing up is hard, but it feels good knowing you can rely on yourself. It is my responsibility to give her the chance to do that now while the consequences are small.

Dream, dream, dream

I am just beginning to reap the benefits of eating healthier and one of the best is needing new clothes.

I don't want to spend much money until I get closer to my goal, but when I have to walk around with one hand holding up my pajama pants? Well, then it is time to make some small investments in sleepwear!

I have to admit I am spending hours looking at clothes online and sometimes in stores, dreaming of what I will wear in the future.

I have decided that I am only going to buy things I love from now on. It doesn't matter if it is underwear, or outerwear, if I don't love it, I don't want to pay for it.

I have been eying a coat for weeks now and today I had a chance to buy it for 65 percent off, so I did. I hope it fits, but if it is a little tight that is okay because I intend to lose more as time goes by and I really love this coat!

Other than that it is all still just dreams, but those are the things that keep me eating right and walking, so it is a good cycle to be in.

Step right up

Shoes have been on my mind today.

The high top white baby shoes I wore until I was four that my mother had to have specially made for me because she thought it would make my ankles stronger. Alas, I'm afraid they did just the opposite.

The beautiful and much wanted saddle shoes with black leather saddles and soft brushed black nylon toes that were all the rage sometime in fourth grade. My mother brought home a pair for both my sister and me and we thought we were the most stylish kids in school.

The Buster Brown penny loafers that we put real shiny pennies in. I felt so preppy in those.

My first spiked, two inch heels that my mother dyed and redyed to match different formal dresses.

The chunky high heeled, thick soled wing tips I wore freshman year of college.

My first real tennis shoes made by Dunlop in 1975. I felt like a real pro in those!

My first ugly red wing shoes to fit my orthotics.When I said they hurt my toes the salesman insisted they were fine. I just needed to get my ingrown toenail cut out. I did that and I wore those squeaky awful shoes until another salesman told me they were too short!

My first pair of Brooks athletic shoes that my daughter-in-law bought me in Denver for my birthday one year. I've worn Brooks ever since.

And finally the pair of dress shoes that held my orthotics and made it possible for me to dress up again.

Under

The real spirit of Christmas cannot be boxed, wrapped, or put underneath a tree.

I don't think it can even be measured, expected, or truly understood.

It is something that people often under rate until it is found, but that doesn't mean it isn't real.

I sometimes find it in the space under my heart and deep inside my head.

Bruno is bouncy, trouncy . . .

Five of us got together tonight to watch Home Alone.

Everyone brought something to share and everyone was forewarned that there was an overly exuberant puppy in the house.

I was picturing a roly poly puppy gamboling around the living room.

Bruno turned out to be a fourteen month old lab who leaped over the back of couches with a single bound, climbed over people without batting an eye and tore through the house like a tornado on speed. He did not, however, bother the food on the coffee table!

Until his owner attached him to his leash, which was attached to one part of a very heavy, very sturdy coffee table. He actually pulled the coffee table a few inches with him when he moved and then . . . well, it really wasn't his fault when he hooked one of the tv trays full of cookies and upended the whole thing.

But his soulful eyes and obvious desire to play and the most incredible joie de vivre I have ever experienced, made it impossible to be upset with him. He was trying, really trying, to be a good doggie and sit down. He just kept forgetting.

It was kind of like I imagine it might be spending the evening with Tigger. And we all know:

The wonderful thing about Tiggers

Is Tiggers are wonderful things!
Their tops are made out of rubber
Their bottoms are made out of springs!
They're bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy
Fun, fun, fun, fun, fun

Alone

I remember being with my grandma when I was eleven years old, nearly twelve. It had been a big year. My Aunt Jo bought me a bra for my birthday that year and unlike most little girls, who longed for that moment. I hated it.

We moved to a new house in the middle of sixth grade, which meant changing schools for the first time in my life. My mother told me I was getting too big to take baths with my brother and for the first time I began to feel very alone. Alone in the bathtub. Alone in the playroom where I decorated and redecorated an orange crate for my Barbie doll.

At night, when all my siblings were in bed, I sat on the floor while my mother sewed Barbie doll clothes for me. She made a wedding dress from white satin that was elegant and a pioneer dress from gingham that even had a bonnet. I played with the closet she made from a boot box. It had a place to hang all the clothes and even a dresser with drawers.

I had a friend I pretended to play with all the time that year. I guess I was pretty old for that, but it was so real that later in the year, when I was twelve, I thought I was pregnant by him. The only real time we had even spent together had been roller skating, but I thought I had been thinking about him so much that God thought we were married and had sent me a baby. I was so ashamed and terrified of what my mother would say.

But that time with my grandmother was when I knew that something had changed.

I was no longer little enough to think she was perfect. Now most of the things she did seemed foolish and embarrassing and I hated that. I wanted to go back to the way it was. I didn't want to grow up.

Growing up didn't seem to have any advantages as far as I could see. It was a messy uncomfortable process. I realized that everything changed. Everything could go away. Everyone could change or go away.

I felt very alone that year.

Photographs

I took two horrifying photos today. Both of them were right after I got out of the dentist, so I know I was wearing make-up, but I looked twenty years older.

I look twenty years older in both of them.

I took another one a few minutes ago, because with camera phones it is possible to take a picture every few seconds if one is so inclined. I looked like my old self again, not young, but not an old hag either.

I keep looking at these pictures. Is it possible that sitting in a dental chair, having work done by an excellent dentist with virtually no pain, or stressful feelings, can leave me looking like that?

It is the stuff of horror films. Dorian Me when the magic wears off. I will probably have nightmares about it tonight.

Not the dental work.

The pictures.

Rise again

Father Christmas lives in the eyes of children everywhere.

It is unconditional love.

Unswerving belief in possibility.

Unending hope.

Only when we entomb those children under the guise of growing up do those things cease to exist.

But they can rise again.

Especially at Christmas.

What a wonderful world

What is wrong with diversity?

In my family we have Native Americans, African Americans, people from Thailand, Catholics, Episcopalians, Baptists, Methodists, Republicans and Democrats. My great grandmother was Jewish.  Our family came from Germany, Scotland, Wales, the Americas and who knows where else.

What a wonderful world it would be if we could celebrate all of the holidays in honor of each other's gods, traditions and hopes.

I can't imagine a power great enough to create all this diversity being so petty that some of it was considered heresy. In most ways it all celebrates the same things in different ways.

The only reason not to do this is when it furthers some agenda that goes against equality, diversity, and love. Unfortunately for religion today it has become mostly a tool for controlling people instead of a way to honor the power that created them.

Nature sets a good example for us. There are all kinds of trees in the forest, all colors of puppies in litters, birds of every shape and size and even the land varies from lush tropical jungles to arid deserts. Only human beings seem bound and determined to make that a disadvantage. Everything else actually relies on it.

Not these cards!

I start thinking about Christmas cards way before Christmas. I look at them in the stores. I contemplate taking a picture for them. I usually try to get a picture that includes Annabel and I usually fail miserably at this.

This year I snapped a picture I thought was cute and unique, so the next day I quickly imported it and spent hours deciding how to frame it and which card stock with which words I wanted. Then I ordered forty of them with a half price coupon and waited to pick them up.

Normally enthralled by my decision, this year I was not. There was something not quite right about them, but I decided to use them because they were paid for. I carefully wrote on the back of one and set it aside to see if the ink would dry to be smear proof because I like to use a gel pen. A few days later I checked and it seemed fine, so I promptly wrote on all the others.

Yesterday I sat down to address envelopes and began stuffing the cards in, but half way through I noticed some of the ink was a little blurry and then I noticed that most of the cards left to stuff had ink smeared on the front of them! No way to know about the others without opening signed, sealed and some even stamped envelopes, so I did my best to fix the ones left. I discovered I could rub off the smeared ink on most of them and still send them, so I finished up. Late last night I had a stack of thirty two cards all ready to go except for buying more Christmas stamps.

I should have felt really happy, but I didn't. I felt like these cards had never been meant to be mailed.

So today I went to the post office very early. I bought one stamp for Germany and two cards of regular Christmas stamps. Then I went to the drug store and found some really sweet cards that happened to be on sale because it was so late.

I came home, put the crackling fire on the television, turned on the Christmas Music radio station, made a cup of coffee and sat down to rewrite my Christmas cards!

A modern world requires adaptation.

In these times

I have been profoundly aware of my good fortune lately.

I walk in this beautiful but freezing cold weather and thoughts assail me from every direction.

How lucky I am to live in a safe place where no one is bombing the streets.

How fortunate I am to have an apartment that is warm with a good bed and so much more.

How wonderful it is to be able to buy the food that I want to eat and is healthy for me.

It occurs to me that one of the signs that I am truly one of those blessed, for lack of another word, people who can not only afford very good shoes, but when they feel worn out to me, I can put the brand new insole I took out for my orthotics back into them and give them away knowing there are people in this world who will be glad to have them -- even this way.

I can pay my bills, read books that I love, decorate for the holidays, buy presents for Christmas, volunteer at a job I love, spend time with my daughter, talk with my son and Bestest, and send good thoughts to my other son.

In these times, or any times, these are bedrock pleasures.

The Horror Movie Diet

Nearly everyone I know is looking for the magic diet. The one where you can eat what you like, sit in front of the boob tube and lose weight.

All you have to do is:

Eat two eggs, a vegetarian sausage and a piece of sprouted grain toast with Irish butter for breakfast.

About seven o'clock every night start cruising Netflix, Amazon, Hulu, etc, looking for just the right ghost story, or if all else fails, horror movie, to watch. It can take up to half an hour. (But that's half an hour you are not eating!)

As soon as you find one, go chop up a whole heart of Romaine lettuce, a large avocado, a half cup of baked chick peas, two or three shredded carrots, and one bunch of green onions. Top this with a couple tablespoons of yogurt blue cheese dressing and voila!

Dine slowly and watch the movie. I've lost over sixty pounds this way. (But I have to let you in on a little secret. Somewhere along the line you will start feeling so good, you will want to get out and do more. You might even start walking, or playing tennis.)

Gusto

Everyone wants to be good at something.

Unfortunately some of us pick that something before we are old enough, or wise enough, to know what is really important.

Parents at Eighteen. Junkies at twenty. The funniest guy at the bar. The class clown. The fastest car on the road. The loudest motorcycle around. Even the most beautiful body in town.

All of these things and many others can seem like the ultimate goal at some point. Then time passes and the novelty wears off and we are stuck with a name tag that no longer lifts us up. It feels as hollow as it always really was.

The good news is that you can pick again - - and again and again and again. No one ever set a limit on reinventing yourself.

Edit out all the negative words (and people) then regroup, figure out how to begin your new adventure, and go forward with all the gusto you've got. Allow yourself to be fueled by the experiences, the knowledge and the love you have.

Radical realization

I spent the first half of my life learning how to hide my true colors, camouflage my real face, and move without stirring anything up.

It was constantly impressed upon me that my place in the world was to leave as little footprint as possible while making room for the "real" people, the wise guys and beautiful women to showcase who they were.

There was always that niggling thought that IF I could become rich enough, or beautiful enough, or smart enough, there might be room for me, but to be careful, because there was a bigger chance of embarrassing myself than achieving that.

It has taken me a lifetime to finally see that I am everything I need to be and more and the only problem is me grabbing hold of that and going with it.  It almost seems too late for such a radical realization.

But it's not.

A little bit of magic

In a world where confrontations are becoming the norm, I know someone who not only believes, but practices kindness.

Imagine putting on your headphones, turning up your music and running. Suddenly someone starts jumping up and down, waving their arms and shouting at you.

Most of us might either ignore this person, or yell back, but what if you stopped, asked him to stop yelling at you and struggled to have a civil conversation? (That happened and everything was peacefully resolved.)

The world does not have to be divided into people who are pushovers and people who are brash and rude. A little bit of simple common sense and courtesy, a bit of giving others the benefit of the doubt and a hearty dose of kindness could perform minor miracles.

Imagine a world where kindness was the norm. I know at least one person who practices that belief. It doesn't require years of training, or tons of money. It doesn't even require you to believe the same things. It just opens the door to a better world with more possibilities.

Learn to be straightforward and kind.

Kindness is the new magic word.

The greatest power

There comes a time when the blessings flow like water upon the desert and the fruit of that water is the garden, a beauty so deep and so profound that it is invisible to all but the wisest eyes.

To see with the eyes of the child and the heart of the wise men is a gift that cannot be given.

The greatest power in the world is kindness. It is the only path to peace, the only true light, and the one who bears it is called a son of God. A child of God. A daughter of God.

So simple.

So rare in its purest form.

So misunderstood.

Meetup mindfulness

I joined a meetup group for women a year ago last August and I cannot say how well this works for me.

They have about fifty people in the group and five meetings a month that vary from coffees, to brunches, book clubs, game nights, cocktail hour and dinner out. Most events are limited to 6-8 people so that it accommodates the place it is held. Sometimes it is in a home, but usually it is a place of business like a coffee shop, restaurant, or bookstore.

The women in this group range from mid twenties to my age with most of them being in the early to mid forties. They are independent, fun people who approach life with a gusto, sincerity, and a joy that makes me happy.

I have always been reluctant to join groups. Generally I find them laborious to maintain and tedious after a while, but not this one. There is a spontaneity here that keeps it simple and fun. Somehow this group attracts like minds and souls. Most of the women are professionals or teachers of some sort who just enjoy the company of other women occasionally and can be relied upon to show up and do what they commit to.

The sweetest time

I lost half of a very nice pair of earrings last week, so I was going through my jewelry box trying to decide what to wear when I came across a locket. Inside were two pictures from 1972 and they reminded me of how the biggest portion of my life began.

I fell in love with a man who asked me to go to the park with him and see what ducks do in the rain. For the next ten years we played tennis and backgammon and bridge. We knitted sweaters together. We were in charge of our church's youth group and rode bicycles with them, camped with them, spent lock ins at the church with them (and our little dog, Ninna.)

We studied together, worked together, shared his big recliner while we watched television and for the most part felt like we were the neighborhood "Joneses." Life was so good.

Then we found a way to make our dearest dream come true, or at least that is what I believed, and we set out to add children to our perfect family, but it turned out to be the beginning of the end. It was an end that took nearly thirty years to come to a head, but it was still the end.

We had wildly different ideas of family and children and how love can be apportioned. It is sadly amazing how that changed everything. By the time we ended our marriage I had really forgotten how sweet it was in the beginning, but there was that sweet time.


And it was very good.

I can't hear the music

As I was walking my mile around the park today, counting squirrels, I was musing over the things that seem to make people happy, or at least make them feel like they are happy.

It began when someone posted a video on Facebook of a woman older than me dancing at the end of an aisle at a liquor store. That video made this person wildly happy, or so she said. It did not do that for me. I wondered if the woman had already been imbibing, or if she was so lonely and desperate for attention she felt compelled to do this strange thing?

Then my mind wandered to the young men toting a bag of ice and a shiny beer keg up to a house. Where do we get this idea that doing crazy things like drinking until we throw up, or pass out, or lose control of our bowels, is fun and cool and makes us part of the "IN" crowd? Who else is in this "IN" crowd and how does this behavior make their life better? Or perhaps, why do they believe it is fun?  It's like people who jump up and down shouting, "Who hoo!" at concerts. I can't hear the music doing that. I really don't understand.

I think we foster a lot of wrong ideas in our society and people who don't think simply grab hold of them for dear life hoping it makes them that elusive something they want to be. Actually finding out what adds to the quality of my own life, what makes me happier in the long run, what makes my heart warm and my mind joyful feels like a wiser choice. I suppose that is different for everyone.

By the way, I counted eleven squirrels on this insanely beautiful brisk Fall walk around the park.

We the people

In theory our country was founded on the idea that all men are created equal and yet it doesn't look like that was actually the truth.

As soon as we had politicians some of them became our surrogate royalty. Men who believed they were entitled to special treatment and entitlements other men and women were not. Right behind them were all the other people with money. They were the rest of our royalty, people who could pay their way into, or out of, a new morality.

Of course this was justified by "truths" that said African Americans, women, and various and sundry immigrants were really children, or incompetent, or incapable of handling actual equality.

People have the right to own their own body and expect others to leave that body alone. I don't believe any religion has the right to dictate the laws, but the idea that we should treat others the way we want to be treated is not a bad idea. Too many people have a double standard and too many other people know this and simply turn a blind eye.

You can't say all people are created equal and then treat some of them like chattel.