I'm just your average, everyday, divorced 38 year old girl -- overweight, tragically unhip,
and trying to make a life for myself. I live with two furry beasts, Dave and Abby, whose
feline mission in life is to choke me with their fur. Nothing special.
Friday afternoon. I think I might have actually reached that magical point in my journey to health and well being. The point when everything comes together and my desire to feel good and be healthy in the long term overtakes my desire to feel good and eat lots of food in the short term. I've always really liked Dr. Matthew Anderson's articles for the eDiets newsletter, and today I decided to read through some of the back issues and found this great article called "Guaranteed Weight Loss: 10 Secrets!". I know, it sounds like one of those too good to be true internet scams, but, if you read the article (as I did), you'll find that they are, in fact, the "secrets" that will lead to lasting weight loss. Of course, they include things like healing your thoughts, managing your emotions, and self acceptance, so these are definitely not easy ways to weight loss and, perhaps more importantly, they are going to fix a whole lot more than your weight if you follow them. That led me to Dr Anderson's website where he has some great thoughts (and things to buy, but I'm not doing a commercial here!), one of which comes from the Sufi poet, Rumi:
“Come, whoever you are! Wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving, Come. This is not a caravan of despair. It does not matter if you’ve broken Your vow a thousand times. Still Come, and yet again, Come!”
Wow. Wow, again. The thought that, no matter how many times I've tried and failed to lose weight, or whatever else I've tried, I'm not a bad person and that I can keep on trying without diminishing myself, is a very powerful one for me. My tendency has always been to beat myself up thoroughly every time I try something and am not perfect at it the first time I try. (Yes, I might be a bit of a perfectionist.) Crazy though it might seem, this really got me thinking about why I'm so hard on myself and perhaps, just perhaps, being a little more reasonable in my expectations of myself. I mean, I'd never be so awful to anyone else if they tried and failed, so why is it OK to be that way to myself? Food for thought for this weekend.
I got my car back last night. YEAH! It has this wicked cool new stereo in it and all signs of the terrible criminal activity inflicted upon it by the no account cretin have been erased, except, of course in my heart, which cannot so easily be repaired. Last night I had one of the worst and most vivid nightmares I can ever remember. It started with me being awakened suddenly by my Aunty Caryl (in the dream) telling me that someone was breaking into the house and was, in fact, upstairs. Now, neither my aunt nor my mother (who was also in the dream) live with me in reality but that was just part of the freakiness of the dream. As I began to dial 911 on my cell phone, the intruder opened the door to my room and walked in. The dream from there faded to my being upstairs (which is the living room, dining room, and kitchen of my place), walking through the rooms and finding just total devastation and destruction of everything. I was aware that the intruder was still in the house but I was somehow unable to get out of the house and was just frantic with the fear that he was going to come up the stairs and get me. Then I went to my office at work (Was I magically transported there? Not sure, but that's how dreams work for me) and it, too, had been totally ripped apart and systematically looted. At this point, I woke myself up. I was so terrified that I had to keep myself awake for nearly an hour to make sure that I didn't go right back into the same nightmare again. I know this has to be related to the car break in, and I know that I've been a jumpy, jittery ball of nerves ever since the break in, now I just need to know how I heal the sense that I'm not safe anywhere at any time and that my comfortable life will never be comfortable enough or safe enough ever again. Any suggestions? Drop me a comment or an email, if you've got a good idea.
I'm going home now because I feel poopy and because I'll probably be in over the weekend anyway because I'm on call. On call is just a euphemism for "at our beck and call", as any good project manager knows, so I'm just planning to come in and spend some time here. Heck, I could always hit the gym while I'm here.
Thursday afternoon. OK, so I can't exactly see clearly, but at least I'm not ranting like a lunatic anymore. I'm sure you're all comforted to hear that. You know, sometimes a good rant can be very therapeutic, and this time is definitely a case of that. (I do have to say, however, that it gave me a warm glow to read Georgia's post today because it made me feel like I wasn't the only PM wishing they could strangle one of their team members. Thanks, Georgia!)
I went home last night and consumed large quantitites of Crispy Beef and fried rice. Mmmmm, nummy! Not good for health, so that's a little entry in the "loss" column, but immensely good for my mood, so I think it's a wash. Today I was (mostly) on my NutriSystem food. Mostly because I ate the breakfast for today yesterday, so I just picked up a whole grain muffin with my latte instead. Other than that, though, I'm all about eating well. The NS lunch entree was actually quite tasty, albeit really small. I know that the teeny portion size is what I'm actually supposed to be eating, but it's not what I'm used to. This morning, while picking up food for my starving babies (they were completely without any!), I also picked up whole wheat bread, some string cheese (I've got to have some protein with my breakfast otherwise my blood sugar goes freaky), a little thing of non fat milk, and light balsamic vinaigrette for my twice daily salads. So far, so good. Not terribly hungry, not really cranky at all. This might actually work. Well, at least I don't feel as wretched as I did after a few hours of the South Beach diet. Bleah!
One reason for my improved mood might be that I got a call from the car place and...after 12 business days, my car is finally ready!!! I am so very glad. I'm going to leave at 4pm to drop the rental at the rental place and then head to the shop to pick up my little light grey Saturn. I know it's seven years old and tired, but it's mine and I can't wait to drive it.
Things at work definitely got worse before getting better. The first thing I was presented with this morning upon walking into my office was the news that the call I'd asked one of my team members to make to an outside vendor protesting their latest stunt hadn't gone well. Turns out that they'd actually specified that they were going to do what they did in their written contract and we just hadn't brought it out at the time the contract was signed so that we could have protested it and told them we wouldn't comply. When I got pissy about it, the team member did, too, so we weren't on good terms at that point. Then, another team member on the same project went into "I'm going to fix all of this myself because no one else can do it properly" mode. I pointed out to her that it was physically impossible for her to do everything that needs to be done on the project before Wednesday night on her own, she said that, in that case, she'd just fix everything that was screwed up once it got to her. I explained, not for the first time, that she needed to let the others know when they made mistakes so that they didn't keep making the same mistakes. Additionally, I told her that she was actually holding them back from making progress by covering for them because they couldn't grow and become stronger contributors while she was doing the work for them. She didn't take the suggestion well, I didn't take that well, and we both weren't pleased with the other. It was as I was sitting in my office, stewing in my own seething frustration and annoyance, that I realized what we really needed was perspective. We are all three of us too close to this stupid project and we've lost perspective. I immediately fired up Outlook, created a new meeting, invited the two of them to it, and named it 'The first annual "I really, really hate (insert project name here)" offsite'. The meeting invitation included a list of possible restaurants at the beach for consideration. It was the right thing at the right time. All three of us are happy, I talked to the other team members to let them know what was happening and why and that there would be time for us to do something as an entire team but that the three of us really needed to just get away, which they totally understood. Things have gone much better around here ever since, which is not to say that I haven't been annoyed all day, just that, at the very least, my team and I aren't at each others' throats.
Funny how the little things in life can make you happy if you'll let them.
I feel the need to warn you, my dear readers, that I am in a positively wretched mood right now, so read on at your own risk.
First these poor people lose everything to a firestorm, now, the weather service issues a Flash-Flood Warning for these same areas. You just have to ask yourself, what did they do to deserve this? I'm not affected, although it's definitely rained all day at my house, but I know folks that are. Folks whose backyard fences are still scorched or just gone altogether are now filling sand bags and hoping that their homes won't either slide down a hill or be inundated with mud from the hillside just above where a house used to be. This makes me very grateful and very sorry for those that are affected.
I should say here, in the interest of full disclosure, that some of what follows might be hormonal. I think some of it, too, might be the fact that I want to be at home today, curled up with a really excellent book, a pot of coffee going in the kitchen, and the kitties napping behind me on the couch and on the comfy chair.
I do not want to be here. I want my own car back. I want a hug from my boyfriend. I want regular maid service. I want enough money to be able to help my brother and his wife give their boys a wonderful Christmas. I want the soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as the innocent bystanders there, not to have to sleep with one eye open, in fear for their lives. I want to stop listening to the United States Senate, full of, for the most part, middle aged, rich, white men, tell all of us about what we "need". You people are rich, you probably haven't driven yourself anywhere since you were first elected to alderman or councilman of whatever lucky municipality was clever enough to put their faith in you. None of you, not Republican, Democrat, Green, Socialist...none, know what it's like to be an "ordinary American" anymore. And I'm really tired of hearing that because I make a certain amount of money (I'm not saying how much), I'm rich. You know what? Come and live in San Diego, or virtually any part of southern California, or Silicon Valley, or the Bay Area, and you'll see how you can make $30,000 a year and be below the poverty line. Yes, I know that's a fortune in rural Virginia, as a matter of fact, I know that first hand, because that's where Chris is from, and I know that $30,000 a year is a fortune for someone who lives where he does. It's definitely not a fortune here. Not by a long shot. And to have some limousine liberal tell me that I don't deserve tax relief or should be paying more than the 33% Federal and 9% state taxes (soon to be 12%, thanks Governor Gray) I already do, is insulting. Nearly as insulting as those righteously smug right wingers in the administration trying to tell us that everything's under control and going according to plan in Iraq. I've never been in the military and I don't pretend to be an expert, but it's fairly obvious to me that you had NO freaking idea of what you were going to do with that country once you "won" the war and, oh by the way, isn't it interesting how easy it was to "win"? It couldn't be that they let us win so that we'd be in country, get complacent, and be easier to pick off, could it? You're running a war with a military that's half reserve because you won't admit that we need a larger full time military if we're going to go around liberating the oppressed people of the world. Bah! Neither of you know what's best and frankly, you don't have the first idea of what most Americans need or how to get it to them. If you were a corporation, you'd have been bankrupt a very, very long time ago. Bankrupt and obsolete. I'm so sick of the lot of you that I wish they had a Federal recall law. We may not have gotten the best governor out of last month's election, but we sure sent a message to any future governors that think they know what's "best" for our state, and I think that fear is something that's desperately needed in Washington, too. Recall the President, recall the entire House, the Senate, and the Supreme Court, too, while we're at it.
Monday afternoon. After a delightful weekend of shopping, entertainment, interacting with the parental units, and trying out the South Beach diet, it's good to be home. (Yes, I'm at work, but that's not a bad thing.)
Here's a topic by topic discussion of each of the above: 1. Shopping - I am officially almost done with my shopping for Christmas. WooHoo! We hit the outlet stores at Cabazon, on the way to Palm Springs, on Saturday morning and they were a gold mine. In addition to getting my mom an outfit and a half at the Liz Claiborne outlet, I also found a lipstick pink, patent leather purse and matching wallet from Longchamp (I'll take a picture and post...it's that cute!), a wonderful pair of Cole Haan loafers in natural with a slight (1-1/2") heel, and a summer weight sweater with royal, lemon, and white stripes, a keyhole closure at the back neckline, and jeans with matching piping at the front pockets and down the side seams in royal. Hmmm, all but the first item were for me? Well, yesterday I managed to get presents for Daddy, Chris, Dan II and Howie, my nephews (Dan II is the eldest and is SO MUCH like my brother Dan at that age that it's frightening; Howie is their five year old that I swear is going to be a huge defensive end, just like Howie Long), and half of Tracy's present, too. That leaves me with Dan and Geneva (brother and his wife) and the rest of Tracy's present. I think I'm going to get some kind of gourmet food gift certificate for Dan and Geneva because things are sort of tight for them now and I am not going to get them useless clutter when what they really need is food. Tracy's little decorative hat box that I bought right under her nose on Saturday (I told her it was for my mom) has already got little book labels ("From the library of" with an adorable puppy for decoration) and a Bill Bryson book, so I just need something small and entertaining to fill the box up a little more. I'm leaning toward either a Bliss gift or a Fountains of Wayne tshirt. Why Fountains of Wayne? Read on...
2. Entertainment - Saturday night's Fountain of Wayne/Matchbox 20 concert was totally awesome. It was a little discouraging to see so many people there with their middle aged moms (we were trying to fool ourselves into thinking we were hip and/or edgy...the reality of it just made us cranky), but the concert was actually a lot edgier than you'd have thought. Their CDs are pretty mellow, but we've come to the conclusion that their managers told them to turn down the guitar for the recordings, because they were just blazing Saturday night. Tracy enjoyed the concert so much that we had to run out yesterday and get the Fountains of Wayne CD.
Last night, we went to see the Mighty Ducks of Anaheim take on the Phoenix Coyotes at The Pond in Anaheim. It was a really fun game, not particularly well played by either team but still good, clean entertainment. Heck, where else in America can you see an organized, popular, televised sport where the sound of someone's skull smashing against glass is accompanied by raucous cheers from the crowd? The home town Ducks won, which was an added bonus.
3. Interacting with Parental Units - Going out anywhere with my mom is always an exercise in restraint for me and source of great entertainment to Tracy. (It's easy to laugh when it's not your mom tapping her water glass with her spoon in time with the jazz band!) We decided to meet my folks at Downtown Disney, figuring that a. Tracy could get her Disney fix (she's a fanatic) and b. there are lots of people making lots of noise and other distractions so that my mom's antics might not be as noticeable. We were actually doing pretty well right up until the end, just before we left, when the Spoon Incident occurred, although I have to say that the band sort of brought it upon themselves by singling my mother out earlier in the meal when they were doing their "easy banter with the audience" schtick. If you just studiously ignore her wackiness, she will generally settle down nicely but, by singling her out for attention, they just wound her up so they shouldn't be too bent because she decided to cut loose and enjoy herself. I tried to lunge for the spoon, but it was a wide table and she saw me coming. Fortunately for everyone, we'd paid our bill, it was time to leave, and I did...dragging her behind me. Why my father and I haven't died of embarassment long ago is beyond comprehension. I'd like to say that this is an isolated incident, but it's definitely not. There's the time in college where she danced with the bartender at the bar in Tijuana. Another favorite is when we were in line outside a theater to see a play in downtown LA when suddenly Mom starts sneezing and comes out with, "Damn, I hate fake fur!" The woman wearing said fake fur turned around quickly, shot Mom a deadly look, and then haughtily turned back around and ignored her. Truthfully, I think it might have been rabbit, but I was affecting my patented "I don't know this lunatic and I'm not sure why she's hanging around with my dad and I" pose, so I couldn't say for sure. Yes, my mother is entertaining...if you're not related by blood to her. If I start getting like that, someone please promise to hospitalize me somewhere pretty, OK?
4. Trying out the South Beach diet - You know it's a bad thing when you're suddenly crying out for fruit or a piece of bread, anything except more meat. By Saturday morning, which, by the way, was only Day 3 for me, I was feeling horrible and, literally, nauseated beyond belief, so I cheated and drove through Carl's Jr (Hardees, for those on the east coast) and snarfed down a Sunrise Sandwich (on an English muffin) before picking Tracy up at the airport. I tried, I honestly did, for the rest of the weekend, but having to run to the ladies' room at an outlet center really just about cinched it for me. I don't have a gallbladder (it was taken out in 1996, not uncommon among those that lose a lot of weight, or so I've been told) and all of the extra fat combined with a lack of any sort of starch to absorb some of the excess was a really bad combination. I officially waved the white flag last night at the hockey game and ordered up a pile of garlic fries. Yes, there's lots of grease in that, too, but the starch in the potatoes did its job and I felt fine afterwards. I'm not sure what I'm going to try at this point, but it's not going to be any of the "eschew one food group or another" plans...it just brings out the worst in me.
OK, I think I'm up to date now. I'll be rejoining my NaNo project tonight, so I'll report in tomorrow about how the reunion goes. I'm thinking that I might just write the rest of the story the way that I want it to go, without appropriately revising the first part that's already written. Yes, that will make the novel itself unreadable, but it's pretty much that way at this point regardless, and I just don't have the time or the inclination to go back and clean. We shall see how that works.
