"Same Auld Lang Syne..."

Well, it's here again. Another year over. If I may quote John Lennon. 


I always try to go with my mother's philosophy that if something is ending, something is also beginning. 


So 2011 is over but 2012 is just about to begin. 


As the years fly by and melt into each other, I find myself getting more and more anxious over the passage of time. As time passes, I realize that my mother was right "The older you get, the faster it goes." I used to hate admitting that my mother was right about anything. But time passed and she's gone so now I don't mind so much.


I looked up the meaning of Auld Lang Syne even though I already knew it. There are several translations. It's Sottish and it means "old long since". But that's literal and you can't take everything literally. It is also said to mean "for old times' sake" or "old times" or "days gone by" or, in the case of When Harry Met Sally, as Harry wonders what the lyrics mean, Sally says, "maybe it means we're supposed to remember that we forgot them. Anyway, it's about old friends!"


In my lifetime, I have been very blessed to have some amazing friends. I have my girls who have carried me through all the big stuff-love, loss, marriage, death. Then there is the surrounding support group. The people I don't see often but we don't hold grudges if we haven't seen each other for a long time.(Well, I don't, anyway.)  If I needed them, they'd be there. I have my "new" friends, most of whom I've known for ten years or longer. At this time of year, I think of all of them. Especially now because, as a caregiver, my time is so limited. 


I love to look back and remember all the fun and all the laughter. I try to put aside the bad times. Most of the really bad times were not so bad in hindsight. I'm not talking life and death bad, I'm talking your run-of-the mill parents split up, money trouble, speeding ticket stuff. Nothing was ever as bad as it seemed if I could just call one of them and we'd end up laughing about something else. I remember the parties and the walks and the outings and the shopping trips and the break-ups and the engagements and the pregnancy announcements!! 


Whole days spent at the beach. A whole week spent out of the sun due to sun poisoning. Ski trips. Camping trips. Great Adventure with me holding everyone's stuff because I was too afraid to go on giant roller coasters. We bolstered each other and held each other up. We also made fun of each other in that easy way that friends have. Endless dinners and get-togethers...No excuses needed.


I am so blessed to say that so many of these people are still in my life. We make new memories every time we are together. These days, that is not nearly enough!


We all get busy with our own stuff. We all get caught up in our own dramas (small and large). We all turn around and can't believe that another year has passed us by and we haven't gotten together.


At this time of year, especially, I am feeling the time pass all too quickly.

I wish I had the ability to savor every moment. I don't. It goes by and I realize that I've missed something. Something important. But, I don't have the time to stop and think about it.

Truth is, I don't make the time. None of us do.

When was the last time you sat with your siblings or cousins or Aunts or friends and laughed? I mean really laughed? Laughed with your stomach muscles?Laughed with your head? Laughed with your whole heart? Laughter is so under-rated!

I spend a lot of time crying these days and longing for what could have been. Longing for what can never be. I wish that I could turn back the clocks and the calendars and get some of those precious things back. Some of the things we don't even realize we are missing. In some cases, it could be an old friend. Or it could be a game we played as a child.  Or hair. Or a candy they don't make anymore. A favorite pet. A parent. I would have eaten more veggies and learned to like exercising. I would have started a family at a much younger age. But it's all spilled milk, isn't it? The proverbial water under the bridge.

All we can do as time marches by is join the parade. We need to find the joy in the little things. We need to laugh more. We need to take time to be still and have a conversation with God or whatever it is we believe in. We need to watch the sunsets and the sunrises. We need to spend time with the people we love. They leave us much too quickly! We need to always be learning new things and staying informed about our world. We need to show compassion to others less fortunate than ourselves.

We need to take this year of 2012 and make it ours. For better or worse. It's all we get. Just this year. Just this day. Just this hour. Just this moment. This is our life and we don't do it any justice by wishing for something else.

So to all my "old acquaintance" I've forgotten to remember and the ones I've remembered, I wish you a year that is filled with joy and pain, love and sorrow, laughter and tears. It's the same "Auld Lang Syne", my friends. It can't all be perfection, but it can be beautiful. 



My journey of faith has taken many twists and turns this past year and I have learned that there are forces much bigger than I  running this show called "Life" and so I need to put some faith in those forces that it will all turn out as it should. 

I hope we can all find some joy, peace, love, and prosperity this year. And hopefully these things will balance out whatever else the fates have in store.

"God bless us, every one." Happy New Year!

I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day...

Well, it's all over but the countdown.

This is the worst part for me. Accepting the inevitable. It makes me kind of sad and very melancholy. I wish that I had savored it more or taken more time to notice the lights on every one's houses. I wish that I had seen just one more holiday movie.

I saw a tree out by the sidewalk already and it made me realize how fleeting it all is. The Hallmark Channel is already hawking its Valentine's Day movies! No one ever says "I wish it could be Valentine's Day every day!" do they?

I know no one is really reading this blog. I see people searching and it makes me realize that one of my titles can be terribly misconstrued. But I won't change it on the off chance some sex addict is perusing the Internet and finds that there can be things of substance on the Internet that are not about sex.

That being said, I am here feeling my usual post-holiday blues and trying to tell myself that that's all it is. I am trying to convince myself that I am not just having a little holiday pity party for myself.

I don't believe me.

A bit of rambling today. Sorry, dear readers and sex addicts. It cannot be helped.

Another sure sign that the holidays are drawing to a close is the annual "Join Free" Weight Watchers ad and all the others on television. In fact, as I was typing that, Jennifer Hudson was on TV as two people-the fluffy Jennifer and the thin Jennifer.

I don't want to bust her bubble, but I'd love to see the future Jennifer so I could know if she could keep the weight off! I know I couldn't. Oprah couldn't. Al Roker had surgery and he still struggles! Kirsty Allie. Has anyone seen her recently. Curious to see if she has managed to keep the weight off since DWTS.

How will I begin 2012? When I was in high school, the 21st century seemed so far away. If it ever came at all...now, we are more than ten years into it! How did that happen?

John Lennon hit the proverbial nail when he said "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans..." But I didn't think I would turn around and see so much behind me...joy, pain, heartbreak, fear, death, birth! It all happens so quickly. Like a montage in a movie. And even though it looks like it's in slow motion, it's careening past at breakneck speed. It's running right over me!

I hold onto Christmas longer than most people. I keep it playing in my car. I keep watching the DVDs, I keep lighting my lights. Well past what most would deem acceptable. But, Christmas is a season to me and I need to keep it going for at least two more weeks. That's when the wise men came. That's when I might be ready to let it go.

I always thought Jewish people were so lucky because their holiday lasted eight days but then I found out the truth. Most people spend the festival of lights like any other day. It's more of an observed day rather than a high holy day. And they get eight gifts but they are usually seven smaller gifts like dreidls and candies.

I guess I can do whatever I want with Christmas. I have no children who will be confused by the strange and bizarre ritual of lighting the tree until it's time to take it down (and even past that!).

So I will go back into my lovely and beautifully decorated living room and take off my glasses and look at my tree for another half hour tonight. Each Christmas I spend needs a little savoring. Even if it is after the fact.

So Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

P.S. It sounds like I'm giving Oprah a bad rap as far as weight-loss goes. I give her props for putting it out there the way she does. And for being brave enough to face the world even when she fails. And she still looks pretty good and seems to maintaining her weight fairly well even with the gain. Kudos to you, O!

Don't Wish it Away

For much of the day today, I kept having the feeling it was Thursday.

Being in such a panicked state as I am during the holiday crunch, it was really beginning put a strain on what little composure I have left.

When I realized that it was not  Wednesday, I couldn't help but rejoice that I still had two more whole days to get it all done!

Upon talking to my clients today and during holiday times in general, I hear so many people complaining and moaning about how much they still have to do, how tired they are, how it's so not worth it for one day of the year, yadda yadda yadda...

Then what exactly is the point? Why are you putting yourself through it? Nobody's twisting your arm. Nobody's got a gun to your head saying "Be merry or I'll shoot ya where ya stand!" Nothing terrible will happen to you if you don't do it all, will it?

People, what's with the negative holiday vibes??? You're all missing the point of the season.

That's right. It's a SEASON! It lasts from Thanksgiving until New Year's Day. Approximately six week of our lives to do something nice for others. To make charitable contributions. To sit with our loved ones and enjoy their company.To have an excuse to eat crap all day long!

You are not alone if you are feeling stressed, overwhelmed, exhausted, impatient, even a little bit sad. We all feel that way during this time of year. But, I think we all need to sit down and re-examine why we participate.

I began doing the whole Holiday Madness thing when I was pretty young. I got caught up in my mother's holiday planning for the holidays. She cooked, baked, shopped and wrapped until she could barely walk. I can't help but wonder what her motivation was.

If I had to guess, I would say that she liked the attention. But I would like to add that she really did love bringing everyone together from all different places in her life. My father always came on Christmas even though they had been separated for years. Neighbors from our apartment complex would stop by. Tons of family-first and second cousins and great aunts and uncles. And my aunt's ex-husband's family. And the stranger on the corner! Fifty or sixty of her closest friends and relatives and if you had a perfect stranger tagging along, the more the merrier!

I think back in the day and today, the motivation is and was the same. We cook and bake and shop and wrap and decorate and wear ourselves out and wear our nerves down to the nub! Why? Because it's Christmas time! What? It's Christmas time. And that's what we do.

The kids haven't changed all that much. The gifts have changed but kids are still kids.  Babies are always more interested in the box. Toddlers will put anything in their mouths. Pre-tweens and tweens want bigger, more expensive gifts but they also still desperately cling to the belief that Santa will bring them that one, elusive gift they didnt' tell anyone about. Older kids want gift cards and college kids and grads want cash.

We think they've changed because we've changed. We've become jaded and cynical and grumpy and impatient. So everything seems different! But, it's really still the same as it's always been.

The lights are still magical. We just need to look at them in a different way. Santa still brings the presents and fills the stockings. We just need to believe a little harder. The beautiful stories of what the true meaning of the season is all around us. It's there! Just look harder. Don't be so cynical. So what if the snow is made of cheese and the trees are artificial? So what if it hardly ever snows on Christmas? So what if you don't believe in God or Jehovah or Abraham? So what if you don't really understand what Kwanzaa is all about? So what if you are skeptical that a small amount of oil could have burned for eight days? So what if your ancestors celebrated the Winter Solstice with Pagan worship?

Why can't we all just embrace the holiday season for what it is instead of sitting down and saying "I just can't wait until it's over"?

I saw tens of thousands of people and thousands upon thousands of uniformed police officers come to my tiny village to bid farewell to a fallen hero this week. I know that won't bring this man back for his family but what an amazing sign of hope and good will that all these people, strangers mostly, came to say "Goodbye." They came together and raised money for this man's family.

And so many others are facing tragedies in their lives today. Bad things don't stop happening because it's the holidays. But good things happen more often during this time of year.

People donate, food and coats and money to help people they've never met. They buy an unwrapped toy and donate it while they're shopping.  They send letters to servicemen overseas. They visit home bound people so they won't be alone. They give of themselves. They give their time, their food, their money...all to help people less fortunate. Charitable donations go up around the holidays for a reason...it's the spirit of the season! It's not about cooking six lasagnas, un-knotting fifty-gazillion lights, shopping 'til you drop, baking cookies, lighting candles and opening presents.


It's about finding joy in the simplest things. It's about being generous and kind even when it's nine thousand degrees and the cashier at Macy's is 100 years old! It's about finding your grace.



Don't wish the season away. It all goes too quickly anyway. It's not a root canal. It doesn't have to be so painful!

There is a message of hope and joy and peace in this season. You just need to look a little harder. But it's there. It's inside you!

I wish you, dear reader (both of you), a happy holiday, happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa and so on and so forth...May peace, joy, and love fill your hearts. 

"Get Me Back, Clarence..."

And so, through the help of trained professionals, I am back online and no longer at the mercy of blogging at a foreign computer.

Maybe I'm just not ready for a Mac.

Anyway...Not having that connection forced me to find other ways to spend my time. Not that I spend all that much time on my computer...usually late at night or just before work...but I have to say, I did miss the connection. Literally and figuratively.

Now that we have Facebook and other social networks, I find myself not emailing as many people as I used to. Not really instant messaging anymore either. Although, sometimes I do on the social networks. But those types of connections kept me connected to my family and friends who don't live in my general area. Also kept me abreast of dramas going with friends and family. Or even good happenings like engagements and pregnancies.

My life choices right now don't offer me a lot of free time to keep in touch with people like I have in the past. Even with the social networks, I still don't talk with long distance friends and family nearly as often as I would like. At least with my Internet connection, I was able to at least keep up if not speak directly to all the people in my life.

Now that the holidays are nearly upon us, I crave that connection even more.

I had a very narrow window of time to get everything done and I was feeling very overwhelmed the past week or so. Especially since I couldn't get instant gratification by checking my bills or reading an email or Christmas shopping online. 

However, there is something to be said for the solitude of being disconnected. And by disconnected, I mean completely connected by my old 3G iPhone and the use of my friend's and sister's Macs.

I was definitely less distracted by wanting to update my status or check my email or poke somebody! There were times, in the past two days, where I actually accomplished multiple things in one afternoon! I truly believe that the Internet has given me a mild case of ADD.

For a few weeks, I had a chance to see what my life would be like without the Internet in it. My Clarence was a man named John who was exceedingly helpful and even said that this was a good machine and I don't really need a mac. (Doesn't stop me from wanting one) Or maybe he just said that because I paid him.

I have been so very busy the past couple of days and I still have so much more to do. But I will just trudge along and try to stay focused. But first I have to go update my status!

I've Been Up, Down, Tryin' To Get the Spirit Again...

At this time of year, more than others, we are all called to find the spirit of the season.


Back in Victorian times, it was common to tell ghost stories on Christmas Eve. Hence, the story of Ebeneezer Scrooge, I suppose. 


Is that where the term "Christmas spirit" originated?


Scrooge was living a life of greed and selfishness. He had become hardened to any kind of charitable deed. He felt that people should learn to help themselves and not count on charity for their daily bread. Good old Ebeneezer felt that he worked hard and sacrificed for his fortune and so should everyone else.


At that time in history, it was a very similar economic situation to what we have now. There was the wealthy, upper-class and the poor. The extremely poor  families were relegated to what they called "work-houses" which kept the homeless off the streets. But the streets were most likely safer. There was filth, dysentery and illness running rampant in the work-houses. And these places, along with orphanages, were all kept running through the charity of strangers. There was not an over-abundance of good will in Victorian times. 


Nowadays, it seems that people are either extremely wealthy or not. I am in the "NOT" category. There doesn't seem to be much of a middle class anymore. Those friends of mine that are in the so-called "middle" are actually families that are taking in about double what my husband and I earn together. I used to consider them well-to-do. And those people are feeling the crunch and cutting back too. Just like in the time of Scrooge, the less fortunate are forced to call upon the kindness of strangers.


I know that there are people out there who are just smart about money and know how to save and get by with as little as possible. There are tons of people who shop in the discount stores and border on extreme couponers. But, it is really beginning to frighten me how many people; families and couples with two full-time incomes plus a part-time job or two; are they are struggling to find the funds for life's little extras! 


Extras like Christmas.


So, without really having much saved for my holiday shopping, I am hard-pressed for the extras of donating to my usual charities. All I've managed so far is to donate some groceries to some scouts outside my super-market when I was shopping for my Thanksgiving dinner and some canned goods to the church food pantry.


Even my Sunday donations to my church have been a little on the paltry side. I'm so afraid to spend the money on anything extra because I want to make sure I have enough...enough for what? How do we even know what "enough" is?


Last week, I was home sick and I wanted to make some chicken soup. I went to the store and bought some chicken, a bunch of celery, a bunch of carrots, canned broth, and grated cheese. That cost me $40! I had soup every day for the next four days but was it worth that money? I could have bought several cans and it still would have cost me less. When did prepared food become more economical than cooking your own? What the heck???


Since giving is, in my mind, all wrapped up with my holiday spirit, I am truly finding it very difficult to find my motivation this season. I know it shouldn't be that important to me, but it is. Giving gives me joy. How will it all turn out if I don't find the spirit? And why does spirit have to have a dollar sign attached to it? Even if I went the so-called home-made route, it still costs money. And the whole lotto thing doesn't seem to be working out for me!


So this season, I am in search of my spirit. Every once in awhile, I get the feeling but then I look at reality and wonder if it was just agita.

Holiday Madness

Nothing tightens my colon more than the Holiday Rush!


I spend hours trying to figure out how to get all the bills paid and still find a little leftover for the small amount of shopping I need to do.


I just paid a boatload of bills and am hoping that it all works out in the end so I can pay my rent by next Friday and still get an outfit for my work Christmas party that weekend!


I don't know how we do it. We, all of us, have crazy, chaotic lives and are dealing with a less than stellar economy and yet we all find the time and the finances to get it done. 


OK. Maybe my electric bill will have to go one more month and maybe I'll have to cut back on my cookies. But, there will be cookies and gifts and food galore.


And the time? Where does the time come from? It's like we pull it out of thin air!


Those of you who have children and live by their schedules will somehow manage to squeeze in all that shopping and baking and decorating. 


Those who work seventy five hours a week will also find the time to make merry.


I remember my mother saying that when it got to be too difficult and she didn't enjoy it anymore, she would stop all the extras. Unfortunately, she never got a choice in the matter. Her tired heart gave out before her Christmas spirit did!


Last week, when I was sick and feeling sorry for myself (I still am, by the way), I thought for a few days that I wouldn't do it this year. Someone else was going to have to get it all done. No cookies. No shopping except for immediate family and my best friend's son. No decorating. No marathon gift wrap on Christmas Eve. I'd hardly be home to enjoy it anyway.


Then I started thinking about my mother. How, in spite of impossible handicaps and situations, Christmas always came. Every year. When we were flat broke, she still found a way to get the gifts under the tree and feed fifty or sixty of her closest friends and relatives. When she was weeks and weeks in the hospital, she found a way to always keep the spirit of the holidays. 


I think that's why I love Christmas so much. I think that's why it was so hard for me to not feel that spirit. Her spirit. A part of my mother is still alive in me. It wouldn't be fair to her memory to just let a holiday pass me by without celebrating. No matter what is going on with me personally. 


I will fake it 'til I make it this year and eventually, the spirit will find me and I'll see the magic again. I hope it's soon. Only twenty three days!


Oh, crap! What am I doing here? I have a ton of shopping to do!!!

Where Are You, Christmas?

Oh, there you are!!!

Can't Blog...(changed the name in hopes porn seekers will desist)

It has been awhile since I have posted anything on this blog due to an Internet issue on my laptop.


I had all these inspirational thoughts at Thanksgiving and even more food thoughts! Too bad the turkey coma pushed them right out of my head.


Think I was going to discuss how lucky and blessed I was and how this is the perfect time to reflect on all that crap.


I also think I had something to say about being thankful for my family and friends and the bounty on our tables...Yadda Yadda Yadda


Several days and a lung-splitting cold later, I don't feel so blessed and lucky!


My computer broke and I lack the funds for a new one or even to repair this one; my brother had some lame excuse as to why he couldn't come to Thanksgiving dinner; I cooked for thirteen people none of whom was my spouse; and I had no left over turkey!


The best part of Thanksgiving is my special sandwich!


Today, I had a poor substitute for it but it just wasn't the same. I had a back up turkey and everything but when I went to cook it the day after, it was rotten! Ick. I could gag just thinking of it! 


Oh, well. Not the end of the world. But, not the best way for me to kick off this holiday season either. 


The thought of going through the motions this year is filling me with...nothing...I feel very little about it. Maybe I need to get out to the stores and then I'll feel the magic. I saw some nicely decorated houses last night. Eh...big deal. I also went to church for the first Sunday of Advent...that should get my holiday juices flowing... not so much. 


It was the first Sunday of the New Roman Missal as well. Nobody knew what they were doing. Kinda sad. I couldn't pay attention to the priest. Does not bode well for my spiritual nourishment this holiday season, does it?


My husband is from Pennsylvania. They have some weird sayings in the Big Rectangle. One of them is where my inspiration for the title of this post came from: Can't dance, too wet to plough. Translation: an indifferent "Might as well...Nothing better to do..." followed by an un-invested shrug.


So my choice of title reflects this self-proclaimed Christmas dork's feelings about the coming days...I'll write about the holidays...but it doesn't mean I'll enjoy it!

"It's comin' on Christmas, Theyre cuttin' down trees..." JM

No surprises about the holidays being here already.

We get the same three hundred and sixty five days between each year, don't we? Sometimes the turkey is roasted a little earlier and the Hanukkah candles can be lit earlier or later, but Christmas and New Year's Eve come the same day every year and we always act surprised.

That never ceases to baffle me.

We knew it was coming. Remember last year when you said "Next year I'll be ready!"?

I know that retailers put the pressure on us by decorating the stores and putting out the ads earlier and earlier.

On election day (which, by the way, was less than a week ago!), I saw the first real sign that Halloween was over and we barely have time to buy our turkeys. The big white sign with hand-painted lettering that says X-mas Trees!

That sign fills me with trepidation. A cold, hard dread in the pit of my being.

To be completely honest, I never even put my Christmas linens in storage last year. They are sitting in my bedroom in collapsible laundry baskets which I move from place to place telling myself I'll get to it.

I never did my Spring cleaning and have yet to do my fall spruce-up and now it's time to figure out where to put the tree.

How did that happen?

I knew it was coming.

Last year I vowed to be ready.

Farbsday!! Where are you when I really need you???

Is There Anybody Out There?

So I am writing this blog because I like to see my thoughts in print in hopes of being inspired to change...what? Change my life? Maybe. Change my way of thinking about myself? That's possible. Change the way other people think about me? Not bloody likely.

I think I am writing this mostly for me. It's an addendum to my previous attempts at journal-keeping.

I began writing in a spiral notebook in my last year of high school. Then it went into bound books and I was pretty consistent. Unless something terrible was going on in my life. Then, entries were, at best, sporadic. Sometimes it would be over a year between each entry.

When I look back at those old journals so I can get in touch with my former self, I realize that most of the time I was trying to inspire myself to be better. Better at something or better than something. Or someone. Or myself.

There was a lot of whining and pining. Whining about my situation in life or pining to be somewhere else or someone else. Pining for a lover who didn't even know I was alive. If he did, he never saw me in that light. I was a good "friend" to have around. This is not one specific person, by the way. It was most men (or boys depending on the time frame.)

But I look back at the posts that I have written here. Laying myself and my misfortunes and my faults and my thoughts out for an unknown audience.

I see a few hits on this blog. I put the address on facebook but I have not really invited too many people in to see the "real" me. Let's face it-I don't think there is a "real" me to be seen.

I am also inviting people to have a glimpse of my personal skew on, say, food or holidays or friendship. It leaves me open to interpretation. It leaves me open to criticism. It's OK. I've never shirked from criticism. I am my own worst critic. I am forever slamming myself for things I've done or not done in my life.

I am nothing remarkable. This blog is not about conceit or over-confidence. It's just a place to put my thoughts. (Random as they may seem to the reader.)

So, if you are reading me to read me, post a comment. Or follow me. I am following a couple of people myself. It's interesting to look in on people's lives once in awhile.

I used to walk for exercise and I preferred to walk around dusk because I could look into people's windows as I passed by. I might see someone talking on the phone. I might catch a family sitting down to dinner.I could see how they decorated their dining room. I could hear what kind of music they liked. Maybe I would catch the fragrance of something they were baking in the oven. Or see what they were watching on television. Maybe there is a father and son playing catch on the lawn making the most of the last glimmer of daylight. Or a sad-looking old man might be sweeping off his walkway.

This what reading someone's blog feels like to me. I am not invading their privacy. I am just curious about people. I am curious about how other people live their lives.

Feel free to read me. I'm an open blog.

It's About Time

Actually, it's about making time.

I don't know anyone this day and age who does not wish they had more time in their day/week/month/year/lifetime. Don't you?

I have major limits on my time these days. Don't get me wrong. I am responsible for the time constraints I face each day.

We all have work and responsibilities. Some of us have children (well, not me personally) or pets or family members or friends or other types of obligations that limit the amount of time we have to do more of the things that we want.

I am a HUGE procrastinator. That takes up whatever free time I have leftover from my busy schedule. I often think that if I could just get myself moving, I would accomplish a ton each day.

Back in the day, when I used to actually go out on a regular basis, I would spend hours getting ready. But very little of that time was actually used to accomplish anything. I could get myself ready in very little time. The thing that held me up was getting started to get ready.

It's my mantra today-it doesn't take me a long time to get ready, it takes me a long time to get started. And I married a procrastinator.

If I added up all the time in my life that I have spent procrastinating, I'd have a couple of extra years of free time!

Enter Farbsday.

A long time ago, my dear friend and I were talking and we decided that all we needed in life was an extra day. She said, laughingly, "We'll call it Farbsday!" I don't know why, but, Farbsday stuck with me and I have longed for it ever since.

Every once in awhile, I post it on Facebook that I am starting a movement to add this day to our week. We should be able to whittle a couple of hours here and there. And there would be absolute laws for Farbsday that would never be able to be amended or tampered with. It will be a day for catching up. No one will be allowed to do anything that is disagreeable to them. No one will be allowed to schedule showers or birthday parties or weddings or funerals or holy days of obligation or big projects on Farbsday. It will be for catching up on reading or seeing friends or making a nice dinner for our families instead of a thrown together meal at the last minute.

It will be about savoring every exquisite second we have doing only things we love or seeing only people we love.

Sounds perfect doesn't it?

I am one of those people that, when someone says "let's get together!" I think to myself "Yeah, right. Like I have time for that!" But I usually say yes knowing that we'll never end up making plans anyway.

I remember watching a segment on a morning show about Oprah. It was kind of like a day in the life of the busiest woman in America. I learned a few things. One is that Oprah does not set an alarm clock. She relies (or did then) on her own internal clock to get her up on time and she never snoozed. She just woke up at some ridiculous hour like 4 in the morning and just got out of bed and started her day.

No alarm clock? No snoozing? Unfathomable. But I realized that Oprah is an exceptionally organized woman. I'm sure it helps that she has people to keep her on track-assistants and publicists and the like. But, the idea and the simplicity of just waking and beginning your day is absolutely brilliant.

My issues with time are mostly of my own making. My feeble excuses for finding time are starting to wear thin on my own nerves. I am feeling a call to action.

This past week, I heard from an old friend. He's been saying we should get together and I have been giving him my stock answer of OK but never pinning anything down. This time I said OK and gave a day and time and we met last night for drinks at our old haunt. It was a lovely evening of catching up and reminiscing and I enjoyed every precious second!

My procrastinating style is of the all-or-nothing variety. I feel like I don't want to start cleaning out my closet if I can't complete the project all at once so I don't ever clean out that closet. Then, when I finally get enough free time to do it, I waste so much time stalling and negotiating with myself that, before I know it, I am out of time. My stall tactic is usually telling myself how busy I've been and how I deserve a little me time and I should relish it. Yadda Yadda Yadda!

This week, I turned a corner in that I decided to make use of even the smallest amounts of time. It's a work in progress but I have accomplished some minor things like drinks with a friend and getting right in the shower this morning instead of watching Matt Lauer.

And I made time for blogging.

It's my new leaf. I turned it over and I am going to make a conscious effort to meet up with people when I'm invited and stop using my lack of time as an excuse for not accomplishing anything.

These little snippets of time add up to a lot of wasted time so I am vowing here and now to use them to their best advantage. But first I have to watch Harry Potter. Is it Farbsday yet??

Treat or Treat

Today is Halloween. All the little Ninjas and Princesses and ghosts and goblins are taking to the streets. They are ringing the bell and begging for treats. They don't even say "Trick or treat" anymore. They just open their bags and wait. When I ask "What do you say?" they usually say "Thank you". I'm considering only giving Skittles and keeping all the chocolate!

And so begins the season of eating.

It is the time of year that fluffy people either dread or long for.

The weather is colder and we can wear bulkier clothes and cover up more. We can also place the blame for looking larger on those clothes.

We can stay indoors and have an excuse for being a couch potato.

It's also the time of year when we have excuses for over-eating.

I waited on purpose this year to buy my candy and the ingredients for my annual "Ghosts in the Graveyard" dessert I make every year for my co-workers. I knew that those packages of Oreos would not be safe. Instead, I purchased everything on Thursday evening of last week. By the time my husband got home from work, I had eaten about 5 "Fun Size" Almond Joys while making grilled cheese sandwiches (and sampling the cheese, of course!) and tomato soup for dinner. (Including Cheez-its for the soup!) (Don't look at me like that! They were "Reduced Fat"!)

I was beyond full and still ate all my dinner. (And a couple/three/four more Almond Joys. Hey, sometimes you feel like a nut!)

The eating season has begun. (As if I need a reason!) 

It's all downhill from here. First, it's the Halloween candy. Next thing you know, it's time to have pumpkin muffins and cinnamon lattes! Then pies and turkey and gravy and stuffing and sweet potatoes. As if it isn't hard enough all the time for a compulsive eater to try to do the right thing. Now they make everything look so festive and appetizing. I don't have a chance of keeping my eating under control!

Well, let's face it. I wasn't really making much of an effort.

At this time of year, I begin to dread it all. It's a love/hate relationship. I love the holidays. I hate the holidays.

I love decorating and prepping and cooking and baking and cleaning and shopping. I really do love it. That's why I hate it.

I hate that I love spending all that money and time I don't have getting it all done.

This year, money and time are an even more rare commodity in my life. And, as I am sure you surmised by previous posts, I don't exactly have my shit together!

Let's face it, even the most organized person can be worn down to the nub by holiday preparation! And, of late, I am anything but organized.

But I will make my lists and spend money I don't have and somehow manage to get it done and on New Year's Eve I'll turn around and wonder if I had a good time over the holidays.

And it's only November 1st!

"Been Thinkin' About Forgiveness..." DH

So forgiveness is something that has come easily to me. I am lucky that way. I don't hold onto grudges for very long. If you dissed me or we fought ten years ago or ten days ago, chances are I am no longer holding it against you. If you did something to someone I love, I may hold a grudge a bit longer depending on how hurt said loved one was by what you did.

I see so many people holding onto anger these days. I see people seething over something that happened years ago but they are still as angry as the first day it occurred. This makes me a little sad. And, yes, I am about to tell you why.

I met a girl (OK, woman. But back then I didn't think of anyone my age as "woman". Still don't.) at my place of employment.

For some reason, we hit it off. After we spoke about business, she told me about herself. She had a disease that would probably cause her death way sooner than anyone could imagine. She told me about the disease and asked if I knew anyone who had had it. I only knew of one person and she died while we were still kids. I only met her once but she was a very sweet girl with a very positive outlook on a, most likely, very short life.

This woman and I became fast friends and we saw each other quite often through the years as the nature of my business dictates.

Once we got business matters out of the way, we began to talk about personal stuff. We were probably in our late twenties at the time. She had  been married for a short while to the love of her life. I was still single at the time. She desperately wanted to have a baby  but that would most likely shave some years off her life. But she wanted to experience being a mother and she wanted to leave behind a legacy.

This was a woman very strong in her Catholic faith. I envied that in her. She visited the Vatican and Medregoria, and Lourdes. She had an audience with Pope John Paul II. If something was going on in my life she always said she'd pray for me and I knew she would. Her faith was unshakable. Even in the midst of a disease that most people don't even survive into their twenties. Extraordinary.

Through the years she did end up having a child. Every year at the holidays she gave me a card with the baby's photo. A cherubic, curly-top brunette who had her mother's eyes.

Through the years her health declined and she was often in the hospital for months at a time or home with a nurse and IV antibiotic treatments. She was always in pain.

Over the past couple of years, we lost touch. She moved on for numerous reasons. I am sure she may have eventually returned but the illness made it difficult for her to get around. I believe for the past year or so, she got out of the house very infrequently.

Once in awhile, I would see her daughter or some other family member and I would always ask about her. They would always say that she often thought of me. We never had any kind of falling out. We just lost touch. It happens.

I saw her daughter last week and found out that they were moving her into hospice care and it was just a matter of time. But she clung on fiercely from what I heard from family members.  She loved life and she loved her little girl and I don't blame her for hanging on like that. But in the end, she is at peace.

I hope that she was embraced by her Savior and her saints and her angels that she prayed to her whole, short life.

At her wake, I was struck by the fact that, knowing her as I did, all her family members came together to bid her farewell. No one would have known if there was any tension between them. (There was, unfortunately. A lot.) They spoke to each other with kindness and all the hatchets were buried for the day.

The funeral home was jammed with people whose lives she touched and flowers and photos and displays showing how much she was loved. It was so touching to see her young daughter trying to put on a brave face. Still, my heart ached for her loss.

When someone dies, we always reflect upon ourselves; our own mortality or that of our loved ones.

I was so fortunate to be touched by this woman's generous spirit and by her unfathomable faith in God.

Watching her family come together in that way, despite their myriad of differences and their own pain or anger toward each other, was a real eye-opener for me.

It was a testimony for forgiveness.

Try as we might, we, as human beings, are by nature, unforgiving. It takes the death of loved one or some other earth-shattering experience for us to put our differences aside and embrace the one who has, in our own mind, wronged us.

I hope that the lesson I came away with the other day is one I will keep in my heart and when the opportunity presents itself for me to be forgiving, I can do so without reservation.


R.I.P. NCP

I Have Seen the Enemy and the Enemy is Taco Bell

The first step is admitting you have a problem. Hello. My name is Cindy. I am a compulsive idiot.

I make these plans in my head to really hunker down and prepare for a life-altering eating program. Time to exercise and take back control of my fat ass!

I have this conversation with myself several times a day. I use tools such as visualisation and I channel all my positive energy.(I picture John Belushi as Bluto saying "LET'S DO IIIIIIIIIIITTT!!) But it never sees the light of day.

It stays in my head. Once in awhile I'll air it out while commiserating with the not-so-fat world about how "our" eating is out of control. (They usually say something like "I can't believe I at a whole half of a double cheeseburger!")

If they only knew.

If they could see me hulking over my coffee table with some kind of take-out or fast food or peanut-butter and Fluff sandwiches, they'd most likely be appalled and a little grossed out. I know I am!

I was always a bit of a compulsive eater and sometimes a binger. But lately, I find myself coming home and feeling sorry for myself and coming face to face with my nemesis: FOOD. (cue the creepy music)

A person needs to eat. A person can't just stop eating like someone can just stop smoking. It's all about choices, right?

I make choices every day about what I am going to put into my body that day. I would never snort cocaine. I wouldn't smoke cigarettes. I would never choose to eat rat poison. (Having a "Skinny-and -Sweet", 9-5 flashback!)

And yet last night I ate Taco Bell. I told myself I was ordering enough so that when Hubby (not a fan of the Bell) came home he could have what was left. A quesedilla and a burrito.

When hubby came home, all traces of "Fourth Meal" (and fifth, sixth and seventh!) had been discarded. Except for one lone packet of Salsa Verde that must have fallen out of the bag when I was burying it in the trash.

Of course I was forced to come clean. And I usually do come clean. I tell my sister or Hubby or a friend about how "bad" I was last night and "What's wrong with me?" But I don't think I really ever make a full confession of how out of control I am and how scared that makes me!

So, in the light of day, I try to hide my shame (difficult to do when the results of your addiction are physical!) and make amends and do a little damage control by having a salad or, better still, nothing.

Then I come home and the whole cycle starts again.

I am a hamster on a wheel.

I am Astro and George on that treadmill! I don't know how to stop it.

And yet everything I just wrote is such BS.

I am poisoning myself! And I do know what to do to stop it. Just STOP!

It's so simple!!

I only wish I had thought of it before I gained all this weight! Duh. (She says smacking her forehead!)

I mentioned the physical affects of this weight gain. It makes everything, in a life that is already quite difficult, a lot harder.

Buying clothes in larger sizes costs a ton more money than it does for "normal" people. Chairs are uncomfortable if they have arms. Concerts are horrible because you're practically sitting on the person next to you! Cleaning, grooming, bathing, shoelace tying, sock wearing...all become very tough tasks. Breathing becomes labored when you're walking even the shortest distances. And stairs? Stairs are the enemy. As are booths in a diner. (more creepy music) 

In a life that's already quite a struggle why do we-well-why do I continue to add to the load?

Good question. I'll have to get back to you with an answer to that one. As soon as I have my dessert.

Fit, Fit, Fit.

So, I am on the fence as to whether or not this would be a blog about weight loss or a blog about being overweight. Both, perhaps.

Don't know if there are many of you out there reading this, but let me start by speaking to all the skinny folks or physically fit or anorexic or bulimic or those of you who just can't understand how or why someone chooses to be fat.

I should start by saying that it is not really a choice. Well, not a conscious choice anyway.

I have had this struggle for all of my adult life. As I've mentioned before, I have been thin and fat and somewhere in between. I have lost more than 50 pounds on four separate occasions in various times of my life.

My best and biggest success was in the late eighties and early nineties. I began a weight loss program that I sort of made up in my head after reading about several different methods in different magazines and books and using what I knew from being on Weight Watchers, Think Thin, one OA meeting (at which all the women were thin!) and Atkins.

I lost a total of 98 pounds in one year and went on to lose 10 more after that for a total of 108! What an accomplishment, right? My closest friends were encouraging me. My family was even on board. One day, when I was going out, my father (who was forever calling me Chubby and saying I should do push-aways instead of push-ups {push away from the table}) said to me, "Don't get too  skinny!"

That, and the fact that I was able to go into any store for clothes, told me that I was finally getting control of my weight loss destiny!

My motivation for that particular weight loss was, if I'm being honest with myself, weddings. Many of my friends were engaged or getting married and I was asked to be in two weddings which were very close together. I walked into the bridal salon needing a size 20 dress and I had already lost about 30 pounds. I said give me size 16 and had to sign my life away. There was a difference in price if you were over a size 18 so I wanted to be smaller than the "plus" size.

Now, any of you who have ever been in a wedding know that bridesmaid's gowns are not very "true" to size.

When I went for my first fitting (several months after we ordered the gown) I was pleased to find that it was too big. (Except for the boobs!)

So they nipped and tucked and hemmed and $75 later I had a gown that fit like a glove! (Silly expression, isn't it?) When I brought it home to show my mother and did a little fashion show, we realized that they never altered the little jacket that came with it. It was the night before the wedding. I went to my friend who sews and she put shoulder pads in and moved some snaps and it was passable. Who would've thought that I'd buy something that was too small and would end up needing it taken in? Not me! At one point during the reception, I even took the jacket off (unheard of for me to show my arms like that!).

The next few weddings, one more of which I was in and ordered size 12, were a whirlwind of shopping at "normal" stores and buying fancy pantyhose because my legs didn't chafe anymore.

I was exercising on a rowing machine and walking 3-5 miles just about every day! I was doing sit-ups and stretching and I can truly say that I had never felt so great in all my life. My self-esteem was even up. I felt like a normal person for the first time in my adult life! I could fit anywhere!

That's the word. Fit! You can be fit. I was. You can fit into tight spaces. I did. You can fit in. Period. For the first time in my life, I fit into the normal weight category.

I kept that weight off for almost five years before I got complacent. But I would not let myself go all the way back. When I started finding things were tight on me, I started over. I moved out of my childhood home and into an apartment with my BFF. She could eat anything and never gain an ounce!

I crept back up to size 14 and got scared so I started the walking thing again. Five miles six days a week. And rowing to nowhere. Down to a 12. Stepped it up and started walking and running. Down to size 10!! I stayed there for a year or so. But it was a struggle.

We lived right across the street from a health food store and I started cooking more whole grains and less fat. Lots of pasta with grilled chicken. No cold cuts. No alcohol. No sugar. I joined a gym That didn't last too long. Back up to a 12.

I kept the bulk of the weight off for the entire time we lived in that apartment. For almost three years I struggled to maintain and stay between a size 12 and a size 14.

Then we moved. I didn't want to move. But my BFF did. I trusted her judgement and we moved into a great old house with three other friends. I loved the house but not as much as our first place. It was hard living with that many different personalities. And we didn't live close to the lake for my walks.

The weight crept on. Size 16. My mother started declining in health and my father had a prostate cancer scare. Size 18. Feed a cold. Gorge a crisis. Size 20.

I got a handle on it and started over (several times). I did aerobics and took walks. Size 18s were loose. Then I needed surgery on my hands. Size 18s were tight.

Had surgery on my hands, within three weeks I made a huge Thanksgiving dinner with the help of my friends and my sister. A few days later, my mother had a heart attack. Good thing we had all those leftovers.

I was still out of work due to my surgery when we found out they were transferring my mother to the city because she needed open heart surgery. Triple bypass. By the second week in December, she had a massive stroke. Paralyzed on the left side. She lost the use of her hand on that side and she had previously had and amputation so she could no longer transfer herself from the bed to the wheelchair. Size 22. Size 24.

We moved again to a house not far from where we were living and it was just the two of us again. My BFF was planning her wedding, as was another of my closest friends. Maid of honor in both of them=motivation!

I lost almost 60 pounds for my friend's wedding in March of '96. Size 18. Took a trip to England by myself in May and lost another 15.

My mother's health started failing again. Gained back 20. Stayed there for another 8 or 9 months. In between that time, my mother got sicker, I moved out on my own since BFF was getting married in January, met the man I would end up marrying, threw a bridal shower (along with BFF's sisters and her bridesmaids), lost my mother and got engaged. Size 22.

So I just went back and re-read. From approximately 1988-1997, I lost 108 pounds, gained back 70 pounds, lost 30, gained back 50 pounds and lost 60 again. By the time I got back from my honeymoon I was a holding at size 22.

Two years and 25 pounds later I moved into a basement apartment in my childhood home (yes, back to the land of the crickets) and started and stopped Weight Watchers several times, gaining and losing the same 20 pounds over and over. Stayed at a size 24 until about 2001 when BFF had her first and only child.

I began babysitting BFF's child on Mondays shortly after he was born. We had, by then, moved into a great new place which had nice grounds and we went for walks around the lagoon located in our complex. This time, the motivation seemed to come out of nowhere. I lost 84 pounds in a little over a year. I was fitting in again because I fit and was fit. I had joined a gym and was feeling so great. Got down to a size 14. It feels like I kept it off for about fifteen minutes!

The whole thing began unraveling when I got a bad case of Sciatica (even took myself to the hospital) and I couldn't walk with out dragging my foot. It lasted about three months. Pile marital issues on top of that and the weight piles on too. Maybe I was "normal" for a couple of years fluctuating between size 16 and size 20. The motivational spark was extinguished and I was hard pressed to find it's source again.

In '05 I began infertility treatment and very quickly gained 30 pounds. Two years of that and another 15 pounds came out of nowhere. My last procedure was shortly after my father suffered a heart attack and stroke. He died 8 months later.

One year after that my beautiful BFF began exhibiting some strange behavior. A few months later, we heartbreakingly discovered it was caused by a brain disease which causes a rare form of dementia. I have been gorging that crisis ever since.

And we are all caught up with the roller coaster of weight loss!

It's been two years now and I still cannot get a handle on my weight. My schedule of work and helping with her care has made it impossible for me to grasp onto my former motivation. Even now, I sit in her kitchen on a lovely autumn day longing for a glimmer of the BFF I knew so well and even a glimpse of my former, motivated self!

OK. So that was cathartic! I have discovered two things upon writing this post. One is that I love to find excuses for my over-eating. And the second thing is that...the word fit is at the center of my whole existence.

As a child, I had a hard time fitting in due to a lot of emotional problems and a less than perfect family dynamic. As a teenager, I had a hard time fitting in, period. As an adult, I gained so much weight I didn't fit into the spaces that "normal" people occupy. The short periods when I did fit were because I was fit. And, finally, I find that thinking about it all makes me want to have a fit!

Food and Money Are Not Love

If I am going to do this blogging thing, I want to do it right. But my lack of typing ability may render consistency impossible. Bear with me, dear Readers. (All four of you!)

As I sit in my best friend's kitchen on this rainy day, (Wait! The sun is coming out.) As I sit in my best friend's kitchen on this somewhat sunny day, I have been contemplating my relationships. Not with people, mind you, but with money and food.

I have always been a decent worker. I do what is asked of me (usually) and I earn a good living. I've made a decent amount of money in my lifetime. I just have to wonder where it all is?

Jimmy Buffett says "I made enough money to buy Miami but I pissed away so fast. Never meant to last." I think that I have been living that philosophy for the past 20-something years!

In my lifetime, I have always found saving money to be such a difficult task. My mother always said money burned a hole in my pocket. It's true!

But she was the same way. I learned from her! Why didn't I pay attention to my grandmother?? She was the one that got me my very first savings account. I rarely contributed but I loved knowing that there was a little book with my name on it saying that I had thirty one dollars and seventy three cents and I could use it for whatever I wanted. 

I would have chosen to buy something for someone else. Or a Marathon Bar.

Enter food. Was food making up for the fact that my mother had to work? Not sure. 

Most of my young childhood (toddler to ten), I was thin. My uncle called me "Droopy Drawers" and I could hide anywhere. 

Third grade into fourth was when it all seemed to start changing. My mother's health began to decline and my brother and sister were adolescents and we couldn't keep a babysitter so they ended up being in charge of me. They were tyrants!

Shortly thereafter, while I was still in fourth grade, we moved in with my grandmother and my mother went on disability. I think I really didn't want to move there. Food became my best friend.

Wow. I don't think I ever really thought about it before. That's when the wheels came off. My mother's health continued to decline. I was forced out of my bedroom and moved down to the basement (a.k.a. "the land of the crickets") when my mother's friend moved away and her daughter was still in college and she moved in with us (and into my room!). 

Displaced again. My mother made a nice area for me but I was scared of the bugs that lived down there with us. Sometimes my grandmother would find me sleeping in the bath tub upstairs because these huge crickets were scaring the bejeezez out of me!

So if I look back, and I think really hard, I have it all figured out. This blogging-for-insight is very helpful!

When I began to gain weight, it was hard to make friends. Kids are cruel. I had a few friends in the apartment complex I lived in. But they all eventually moved out of the complex. 

When we moved, I was getting downright chubby. That seemed to keep people at a distance. I also started needing a bra in the fifth grade. All the girls wore them but I actually needed them! I wanted to be a late bloomer like Margaret in the Judy Blume book. Not me. I was probably a b cup by sixth grade!

Gaining weight made me feel like it distracted people from the obvious, um, developments. 

Not having friends was no fun so I did go through a phase of trying to "buy" them by treating them to candy at the stationery store or the deli on the way to my after school activities.

I was also prone to making up stories. Stories about my background. Stories about why I was wearing these hand-me-downs. Stories about my mother and father and baby brother. I didn't have a baby brother!

I grew out of the buying phase and the lying phase when I got "caught". I was using my girl scout and lunch money to buy stuff and then my mother had to pay a because I was getting lunches on "credit" at school and my Girl Scout dues were also due at the end of the year. I got in so much trouble for that that I ran away from home. I packed a garbage bag and everything! I also got punished and, most likely, spanked.

But the food thing, well, that has been the gorilla on my back for all this time.

The money thing also comes into play. Buying nice things and new clothes definitely takes the edge off my life a little bit. I'm not a complete compulsive buyer but I can get a little out of control at times. I can over-spend on, say, baby and bridal shower gifts. I like to buy what I want and get creative. I usually don't care what it costs. Christmas can be a very dangerous time financially. I buy gifts. I buy new outfits for various parties. I buy decorations. I buy baking supplies and cookbooks and maybe a new gadget that will make my baking easier. I never cared much about money as an adult because I never had much. Spend what you have because you can't take it with you.

I've already broken my vow of abstinence from purchasing anything even related to Christmas this year because I went to a craft fair and found a great chubby cardinal for my tree! I couldn't resist. And my feet were hurting and I was all alone and it perked me right up!

The food issue. I am not sure how that works. Our family motto is "Feed a cold. Gorge a crisis." Someone is sick? Bring them chicken soup. Someone just got home from the hospital? Bake something. Someone dies? Make lasagna and order a huge antipasto!

My mother loved to cook. She loved to eat. She instilled that in me. I loved to help her cook. And I loved to eat what we made. A lot of my best memories are in our kitchen. She could be very demanding and critical if you didn't do it exactly the way she said but, I still would not trade a second of that time with her for anything.

But the eating food for comfort, that was a slippery slope. My whole family has slid down that slope. I've climbed back up a few times but this time it's so much harder. I just can't seem to get my footing. I could blame age. Over forty. I could blame genetics. Damn you, fat gene! I could blame certain situations in my life. But I make the choices. I eat the food and spend the money. No one is twisting my arm. 

I wish I could say that writing this has been cathartic. Well, it has been cathartic. I wish I could say that it has motivated me to be thin. It has motivated me to want to be thin. But I don't know how or where or why the motivation kicks in. I know that I've lost weight before and that I, most likely, will again. But I cannot tell you why I was motivated those times. Maybe I'll have to blog about it and it will all come back to me.

For now, I will continue to hope for the motivation and inspiration. I do know I can't force it. I have to let it come on it's own. I'm very patient .

I can wait.

Does My Ass Look Like THAT??

     
      I find myself asking that question. A lot. I see someone walking down the street or in a super market or on line at McDonald's and I wonder if people perceive me that way.
      I never used to compare my butt to someone else's but now I find it necessary so I can keep my sanity. It's as if, so long as someone out there has a bigger butt than I do, I'm not too fat. Right???
    Do only fluffy people do this? Do only women do it? I wish I knew.
      I  also find myself justifying my weight and telling myself "It's ok. You have so much going on in your life." I find people that know and love me also do the same thing.
      I often wonder if they think what I think when I haven't seen someone in a long time and they put on a lot of weight: "Wow! She got fat!"
      To my face they say things like "You are always beautiful to me" or the infamous "I don't see you that way!"
     I also find myself starting a diet or eating program in my head and planning a morning walk. I do that several times a day! But it always just stays in my head.
     I am away from my house seven days a week. (This looks like it will be the excuse portion of this post.) I sometimes have to get up at 3:30 in the morning to be at a sick friend's house where I help out with her care. And I never know my schedule there from day to day. Sometimes I know the night before and sometimes I find out a few hours before I am needed.
     At work, I am on my feet most of the day. No easy task holding all this up all day long! I have tendonitis in one foot, heel spurs in both feet and a sciatic nerve that LOVES acting up! (Did that sound excuse-y?)
     Most of these conditions are caused by the weight. But they also make it difficult to get rid of the weight. (Excuse)
     I tried having food on hand that I can grab on the go but I don't think of it at 4 a.m. Maybe I don't choose to think of it.(And another. Seeing a pattern!)
     I have been down this road before. Packing on excess weight that hobbles me by the time I walk in the door. It helps keep people at a distance.
     I have tried to "find balance" and "make time" but the truth is, there is no balance and there is no time.
     There is just a crappy situation and a crappy schedule and very little that can be done about it.
     But that doesn't mean that there is nothing I can do about it. It's crappy but not impossible.
     I am always motivated when I start my days but, by the time I get home from wherever I was that day, I find myself unable to even bring in the mail!
     I've lost more than two hundred and fifty pounds in my lifetime. Not all at once, of course. Lose weight. Gain weight. Lose weight. Usually in a smart way eating right and exercising (once I lost 40 lbs on a crash diet but I was 16) and I never have a problem losing it when I am really trying. The problem is getting started.
     I started to blog because I love to write and I need an outlet for a lot of issues in my life that are beyond my control. But weight? Weight feels like something I should be able to control. And I have in the past. It also feels like something I should write about.
     So this blog will be about weight. Having it in excess makes me a bit of an expert, don't you think? Sometimes it will be funny and sometimes it will be depressing but maybe putting some of it down here will lighten my physical and mental load.