These things confuse me

Life can be confusing, no? Some things confuse me more than others. Here are a few of them.

Single "cold ones" at convenience store check-outs. Why on earth is it legal to buy a single icy-cold beer at the c-store check out? Does anyone really buy that beer and take it home for later? I know dad-gum well that those puppies get sipped on the ride home.

Hot dogs & buns. Why are there 8 buns in a packet, but 10 hot dogs? Is it like a commonly known thing that 20% of all hot dogs are eaten bunless? Am I the only one that didn't know this?

Things people say.  Why do people say "I could care less" when what they MEAN is, "I could not possibly, in a trillion years, care any less than than I do".  Also, "supposably". I'm confused that people who say that don't get smacked regularly.

Four way stop signs.  On the one hand, they seem extremely polite. "your turn". "no, yours". On the other hand, well, WHOSE TURN IS IT????

Braille on drive-up ATM's   I don't think I need to expound.

Parents who smack their kids while saying,"STOP CRYING".  Almost as confusing, a parent spanking a kid while saying, "we don't hit people!".

Percentages, without a calculator.  I'm really glad normal tipping is a nice even percentage like 20. If the common tip amount was, oh, 17%, I'd probably still be sitting in the restaurant from lunch, trying to figure out what to tip.

I'm feeling a little overwhelmed just thinking of these things. I think I'll drive down the road and buy me a tall boy.

Committed.

I love a new year. It feels like a fresh start, from the new calendars to the optimism that "this will be the year I ....".  Only, it never is, is it? I think the only resolution I've ever kept is the year I resolved to floss my teeth regularly. 

I'm not making a resolution this year. Instead, I've decided to have a theme for the year. So my theme for 2014 is: Committed.   

I'm committed to doing at least one thing every day that moves me toward improved health and fitness.  No matter how small or insignificant that step might be, I need to remember that it takes a series of steps to get anywhere.  

Today, I stocked up on lots of healthy options, planning to pack my lunch at least 3 days a week.  I've filled the fridge with fruits and veggies, lean meats, and some fixings for healthy breakfasts, lunches and dinners.   

And cookies.  I bought cookies.  And I ate quite a few of them. Damn I have no willpower over cookies.  

Baby steps.  

Heavy Stuff

I'm fat.

I don't mean that I no longer fit into my size 4 jeans. (full disclosure -- I've NEVER worn size 4 jeans. In college I had a size 4 dress once, but I think it was mislabeled!)  I don't mean that I ate a big meal and feel bloated. I mean, I'M FAT.  I'm a significantly overweight person. As in, I'd be happy losing 50 pounds but I'd still technically be overweight even then.

I have resolved to lose weight every single new year since I was, I don't know, about 12. Of course, I wasn't fat then, I was just brainwashed into thinking I was. I think I always tended to be on the chubby side as a child, but I wasn't fat. I am short -- and when you're short, every pound counts really fast. Throughout my 20's and most of my 30's, I was on the heavy side of a normal weight range, and when I look at pictures of myself during that time, I realize now that I was fit, and that I wore my body well. But I always thought I was fat. Since about 40, however, the pounds started creeping (or maybe galloping) on, and I weigh close to 100 pounds more than I did in college.  Wow. That was not especially pleasant to write.

I hate being fat. It is the single largest burden of my life. That said, though, I feel pretty good about who I am. I'm not one of those people who thinks my life would be perfect "if only" I lost this weight. I used to think that way.  But my life is awesome, for the most part, and I don't think being thinner would make my life any more awesome.  Except ..... I'm fat enough that it's caused heath problems. I'm pre-diabetic. I take meds for cholesterol, high blood pressure, acid-reflux, and hot flashes. (OK, the hot flashes probably have nothing to do with my weight, but who knows?) My knees ache nonstop, and recently one of my hips has joined in the fun. I get out of breath doing housework, climbing stairs, or even thinking about doing either of those things! And the absolute worst thing about being fat? Plus-sized clothes shopping. Don't even get me started. That's a post all by itself.

I know that, at age 54, I've got more years behind me than ahead of me. But I don't want to short-change myself or the people who love me. If I don't take control of my weight and my health, I know I'm dancing on thin ice. (Not literally. I never dance. I never do anything that might make me look stupid if I can help it!)  Here's the thing:  I really want to stick around a while.  I have these two grandsons who -- for now, anyway -- think I am the best thing since chocolate pudding. WITH sprinkles. I have a husband who loves me and who I still love (and, even better, LIKE) after nearly 30 years of marriage. I'm a dozen or so years away from thinking about retiring. I have travelling to do. And I really want to be a wild, crazy old lady one day!!

So here's the deal. I'm putting this out there on the interwebs as an accountability tool. I have a plan. It's a plan of baby steps -- taking one or two things at a time to clean up my health. My first two steps on my journey are these:

• Give up diet sodas. I've been tackling this for a couple of weeks, with pretty good success. I'm down to less than one a day (most days, NONE) -- and this is from a typical 10 or so a day. All that aspartame is bad for insulin and a can of chemicals couldn't possibly be GOOD for me.
• Exercise at least 5 times a week.  I'm going to get up every Tues-Thurs at 5 and hit the treadmill upstairs, and every Sat and Sun I'll do the same (or hit the streets).   I'll incorporate different kinds of exercise soon but for now, I just need to get moving.

I'm working with a nutritionist, but truthfully, I KNOW what to eat and what not to eat. This person is actually serving as more of a coach, and I like that arrangement.  I'm going to try to post some of my progress here -- even if no one reads it, I know it's out there in the universe somewhere.  

Here's to being a loser in 2014!

2014 will be the year of the Blog.

OK, I kind of suck at blogging. Truth is, I know I only do this for myself. No one's reading, and that's OK. But I like doing it. So, probably the only "resolution" I'm making is to keep blogging. Who knows ... maybe 100 years from now someone will stumble on it and think I was an interesting person!

So, 2013 in review.  I can't complain. The hubster and I both worked hard this past year, but we're both in good places in our jobs. Probably the best thing that happened was that my son finally ended his marriage, doomed from the beginning. He's single-parenting his 2 young boys, and even though he shared physical custody with the ex, he has primary custody. We've helped out A. LOT. in may ways - physically, emotionally and financially. But he's doing OK. Doing well, in fact. So that's good. And the ex wife was extremely difficult for all of us. She is bi-polar, and i think probably has borderline personality disorder as well, and dear god it was like walking on egg shells every time we were together. Honestly, I feel 100% less stressed with her out of the picture.

I did a lot of mom-stuff this past year. We went to Florida in February, Charleston in May, and Myrtle Beach in September. I do it for her, not me. It's been tough seeing her decline physically - she doesn't get around well, and she's pretty depressed. So I try to get her out, and when she can't do much, she gets depressed again. Vicious circle. But I want to do what I can.

If I have anything to complain about for 2013, it's that I felt disconnected from my friends. Not because anything happened, but because of various situations.  We're all working a lot -- I guess it's the season of life when we've hit our strides in our careers -- and we're all dealing with various family issues that come with these mid-50's.  Adult children who aren't quite grown, parents who need to be cared for, and marriages that are showing the strain of lack of attention. It's not an easy age to be.

I don't think I wrote about this, but I lost my first close friend in 2012. She had lung cancer. She was about 15 years older than the rest of our "gang", but she was like our much-wiser and oh-so-much-worldlier older sister. I'm still troubled by the reality of that loss, and the insistent reminder of my own mortality.

So, 2014. Lots of change coming. A merger at work becomes effective tomorrow. It's all good, but it's also going to be a tremendous amount of change. In fact, I think it's going to be the "Year of change".  I hope I'm ready.

These are a few of my favorite things .....

Hello from Hell.  Also known as, summertime in Columbia, SC.  First of all, I must stress: this is not a beauty blog. (Are you stunned by that revelation?)  This is not a fashion blog.  (Again; stunned?) But, these are some things I really love for looking somewhat pulled together and feeling somewhat comfy during these sweltering days of summer.

I hate being hot.  And, whenever someone tells me I look hot, I know they do not mean it in the "hey baby, you look hot" kind of way .... they mean I'm dripping sweat and red-faced and probably slightly crazed looking.  It ain't my best look.  So, here are some things I've discovered that help me cope a little bit.  These aren't miracle workers; I'm still not going to get any complimentary "you look hot" comments, but hey, I feel a little less frazzled thanks to some of these discoveries.

First, let's talk makeup.  I have a new favorite thing that I use every day on my face: it's Jouer Matte Tinted Moisturizer.  It has sunscreen, plus some magic fairy dust that absorbs oil and mattifies my skin.   Coverage is really light but good! It feels like I got nothing on my face, only, I DO!!  I really like it and you will too.  I get it from Birchbox.com and it costs $38.00.  Pricey, yeah, but the tube I'm using; I've had since February and it's still got tons of product in it.  I've been using it EVERY DAY since it got hot.  I use a makeup brush to apply -- it seems to go on nicer and I don't think I use as much of it.

The other thing in the face-department that I've been loving this summer is high-def translucent mineral face powder. OK Confession time:  I splurged on a jar of this stuff by Youngblood; it was $38 (Birchbox, again, I'm hooked).  However, I also bought a jar of very similar stuff by E.L.F. (Target, maybe $4.00?) and it's JUST AS GOOD!  It sort of "sets" your makeup and keeps the shine at bay.  It goes on white, so a little dab will do ya.  But unless you cake it on, it's invisible.  

These are some old faves that are great for summer:  cheek tint by Tarte (I have no idea where I got it).  I apply with a wet sponge and it just leaves a little hint of color, no powder to rub off or streak.  And my new favorite mascara -- because all mascaras I've ever used would melt and leave me with raccoon eyes in the summer, and this one doesn't:  Benefits They're Real.  About $23 and yes, it is worth it.  I swear I will never use drugstore mascara again.   When you get to be 53.80 years old, you have to use the good stuff.  

OK my other favorite summer thing is an unmentionable of sorts.  It's underwear.  If you are a guy I would hope that by now you've quit reading this because I'm sure you don't want to read about my underwear.  

I like to wear dresses in the summer because they're cooler.  Well, I could use a little shapewear, only, THAT SHIT IS UNCOMFORTABLE.  I mean, if shapewear could suddenly make me appear 70 pounds thinner and 20 years younger, maybe I'd suffer through it.  But, I'm still fat and old when I wear it, so nope.  But last summer I found these things made by Jockey (on line purchase) called Skimmies Slipshorts.  They are $20 each and I am madly in love with them.  (in an entirely appropriate way)  They're like shapewear, only not.   Just the slightest bit snug -- enough to smooth lumps and bumps and kill panty lines.  They fit like an awesomely silky comfy and cool pair of bike shorts.  And they are awesome.   And, for those of you who, like me, have a little extra fluff, they come in plus sizes.

There are lots of good things about summer -- like, my birthday -- and I can't think of much else ---- but I find it so hard to be comfortable and feel "put together" in this weather.  So consider this my one and quite likely only contribution to your beautification and staying cool for the rest of this summer!

Dad.

It’s my fourth Father’s Day since Dad passed away in January 2010. People say it gets easier and it really does, but it leaves a dad-sized hole in your life that never goes away. The edges of the hole heal up a bit so that it doesn’t ache all the time, but the hole’s still there. I reckon it always will be.

My dad loved me and was proud of me, although he wasn’t the kind to say it out loud too often. His wasn’t a generation that lent itself to a great deal of touchy-feely mumbo jumbo.  But he loved his kids, and truly, would have done anything for us.  He wasn’t one for long phone calls, either, but when life was going badly, he was who I called.  He just knew how to make me feel like it was going to be OK. 

Oh, but he was a worrier!  He worried so much about the darnedest things.    If I was out sick from work, he worried that I might get fired. (Dad was of the opinion that not many things were an excuse for missing work)  I used to joke that if he got a call informing him I’d been in a car accident, his first question would be to ask if I was OK, but his second question would be “did she go to work?”  He also was deeply concerned and disappointed that I was not, and vowed never to be, a Southern Baptist or a Republican.  His steadfast convictions in matters of religion and politics were such that we couldn’t even have a conversation about either. It wasn’t that he got angry. It was more like he was just …. SAD that I was so misguided. 

My earliest memory of my dad is of the two of us playing “Three Little Pigs”.  Yes, you read that correctly. We didn’t read it, we played it.  I was all 3 pigs, and he was the Big Bad Wolf.  We acted out the book, over and over, he huffed and puffed and blew the house down and I guess I just did pig stuff. 

Dad was not the disciplinarian type. Basically, he had three trigger items as it related to us kids:  Don’t get between him and the TV; for God’s sake, don’t leave a room and leave the light on, and do not, under any circumstances, make any noise after he has gone to bed.   But all he ever did was yell a little bit.   The only time I ever remember getting a spanking by him, (these were the days when “spankings” usually meant belts, or switches!) he picked up a cloth belt.  I started laughing. He tried his hardest to be stern as he flapped that wimpy belt against my leg.  I laughed again.  He made a serious frowny-face and told me it wasn’t one bit funny, or at least I think that’s what he was saying because he burst out laughing before he could get it all out.  So then he put his hand over my mouth and said “if your mother hears us laughing we’re BOTH in trouble – at least pretend to cry!”

My dad was a good guy.  I could write for days about all of the good qualities he had. But some of the funniest things I remember about dad are when he was being, well, a grumpy old fart. He wouldn’t have really appreciated the fact that I find those memories funny, but the fact is when Dad was being a jerk, it was like a tiny little puppy trying to growl and act like a bad ass – all for show, and more amusing than anything else.

Dad would get so blustery sometimes and it usually left everyone perplexed and amused. One Christmas, we had a very large family gathering – siblings, spouses, grandkids – more mouths than my mom had silverware for – I think there were 19-20 of us.  So, she had mixed in a few salad forks at some places – we had the dining room table, the kitchen table, and a couple card tables set up.   As we all got our plates fixed and settled in, and after Dad said his tradition mumbled Grace, he sat down, stared at his fork (he’d drawn one of the salad forks) and said, “I believe I just won’t eat if I have to eat with a little fork”. And then, he stood up and calmly walked away to the den, where he sat down huffily to read the paper.   We all sort of just looked at each other a moment before someone started chucking, and someone swapped out their “big” fork for the “little” fork, and someone cajoled him into coming back to the table.

One of my favorite holiday memories was from maybe the mid 1990’s.  Both of my brothers were living in Florida at the time, so they were staying at the parents’ house for the holidays. For some reason my sister was also staying at their house as well. My husband, my son and I joined the family about 11 that morning.  Apparently all 3 siblings had gone out partying the night before, and they were all still asleep when we arrived, much to my dad’s consternation.  (He wasn’t keen on drinking OR sleeping in!)  When everyone finally woke up and came downstairs, well, they looked like people who’d been out drinking until all hours.  I looked around at them all – bleary-eyed, dressed in clothes they’d hastily picked up from the floor, with slept-in hair; and then at my own family – we weren’t dressed up but we’d showered and at least put on clean clothes.  It suddenly struck me as hilarious that I felt wildly overdressed in my jeans and clean shirt, and when dad asked what I was laughing about, I pointed out the disparity.  Without looking up from the newspaper, he said, not amusedly, “how do you think I feel when I look at this motley group and realize this is my legacy to the world?” 

I guess this has gotten way too long for a blog post, so I’ll end this here. But every day, I miss that man. And despite his musings that Christmas morning, I think he left his four kids a legacy that will make us all better people for having him as our dad.   

Operation Anti-Anti-Depressant = FAIL.

I am not a depressed person. Or at least I don't think I am. But in the months after my father died, my world sort of got twisted. My nerves were a frazzled mass of rawness. My doctor suggested Lexapro, and darned if it didn't help. Lots.

So nearly 2 years later, life was calmer. Things were good. One day I asked myself, "Self, why do you still take these things anyway?" I decided to stop. I knew not to stop cold turkey ... I did my research and talked to my doctor, and then followed a slow and deliberate withdrawal schedule. I'd read about these things called Brain Zaps that can occur from anti-depressant withdrawal. You know what? I had them. It was very strange -- it felt something like a slight electrical current in my head. Sometimes, I'd have the sensation that things were moving that weren't really moving. It took nearly a month before I quit having those sensations, but they finally went away. Yay, no more anti-depressants, I thought.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, said Life.

Damned if the whole world didn't go bonkers all at the same time. First, I started noticing that I was just -- moody, I guess. I cried more, over dumb things, and I was snippier than I should be. I felt overwhelmed by work, bills, and other normal responsibilities. Then, I had a little medical adventure that involved a biopsy and in-patient surgery. As I write this, I still don't know the biopsy results. I missed a week of work and spent that week in pain a few days, and just downright uncomfortable for the rest of the week.

Just before the surgery, a family member got really pissed at me about something I won't hash out here, and she didn't pull any punches in letting me know just how pissed she was. Which is certainly her right, but the timing sucked. The very day of my surgery, I had an rather, well, MEAN email from her awaiting me in my mail box. (Thank goodness I had a few nice ones from people hoping my surgery had gone well!) So during a time when I could have really used a little TLC and support -- um, yeah, that wasn't happening. While I think we'll be OK, I have to say, that really HURT. DAMN, way to kick someone when they're down and bleeding! And off of the anti-depressants!!

Then, I decided today to take a look at my mom's bank balance. I manage her finances and have done so since my dad died. It's been very frustrating, because she seems to have no concept of how much she spends and how much she has. Let's just leave it at this: There are some family members who don't hesitate to ask for her help, and she seems to be unable to say no. I've repeatedly told her that she cannot afford to be as generous as she is being and she repeatedly ignores me. So today was the day I knew was coming. The balances in her account are in the double digits. The balance in her "emergency fund", which had a hefty balance when my father died 2 years ago, has about $30.00 left. So, while she has annuity income that will insure that her bills are paid, she has completely depleted her emergency reserves.

To say I lost it would be an understatement. I cried .... WAILED .... for about an hour. That was the first melt down. I proceeded to have about 4 more similar, but thankfully shorter, meltdowns over the course of the day. I am not a crying, sobbing, wailing sort of person.

During one of the calmer moments, my husband looked at me and very nervously asked, "are you sure you need to be off of those anti-depressants?" For some reason, that was the funniest thing I'd heard all day.