Just wandering. Not lost.

Two Sizes Too Small

2011-12-14T19:50:00.000-06:00

photo from aoltv.com

I admit it. I have a case of the Grinch. My normal abundance of Christmas cheer is nowhere to be seen.

While Christmas isn't my favorite time of year under the best of circumstances (that honor is reserved for St. Patrick's Day), I do normally look on this time of year with at least a little anticipation.

This Christmas is different. I didn't rush to put up my tree. I haven't volunteered to listen to Christmas Carols (although I have been forced to listen to them under duress).

For a while, I couldn't really put my finger on why I was feeling this way. I normally am chipper and have childlike excitement about Christmas, particularly when seeing my son's eyes fill with joy after Santa's visit. It is in my son that I found both my reason and my fix.

You see, Z turned five this year. It has been such a bittersweet birthday that I have battled with being thrilled about it. On one hand, I LOVE watching him grow and develop into his own person. I see so many pieces of A and myself in him, and then I see pieces that are purely Z. The world though his eyes is just an amazing place. There is so much to learn, so much to discover, so much living to do.

For me, this is the reason for my melancholy. While I love watching him grow and develop, it also makes me sad. With each passing minute, hour, day, month, and year, I know that is a little more time that is slipping away. I would not trade even a second that I have spent with him: I just want more of them. Greedy? Probably. Possible? Of course not (time waits for no man).

photo mine

Z also provided my cure. This past weekend, we took him to see the lights at Opryland Hotel. There are three main conservatories that are decorated for Christmas. As Z walked around, eyes aglow with wonder, pointing and shouting "See Mommy!!," it was impossible not to have a lighter heart. That overwhelming, childlike joy was so contagious.

I remembered what someone told me once. She said that "sometimes we spend so much time worrying about what we don't have that we forget to be thankful for what we do." I want more time with Z, but it will do no good to spend time worrying about how fast time is passing and forget to relish the time I DO have.

And as I watched him run this and that way,
I remembered the beauty in childlike play.
I made a choice to push worry away,
And my heart grew three sizes that day.

Merry Christmas!!

Friendsick

2011-10-08T21:40:00.001-05:00

photo mine

I'm homesick.

Or maybe the better term would be Friendsick.

Seven weeks ago, I traveled to my home state to see one of my best friends. I have always had a very tumultuous relationship with Kentucky, not really appreciating the beauty that is to be found there.

I think that with age comes understanding and appreciation. As I traveled north towards Paris, I passed places that I remembered from my childhood.

I was born in Bowling Green, grew up around Western Kentucky University, and lived in Smiths Grove while I was in high school. All of these are places you pass as you head the direction I was. I remember spending many days on WKU's campus for academic and music competitions, ruing the fact that they are called the Hilltoppers for a reason.

I passed the Corvette museum, where members of my high school choir and I sang Christmas carols the first year it was open. The museum has expanded, I saw. As I passed the Corvette plant, I fondly remember visiting the plant as a child, a requisite field trip for all local elementary school students.

The entire drive was full of beautiful views and fond memories. While not all of my life there was great, it was as though a filter had been inserted that was only letting through the great things I remembered.

Some of my greatest memories in college were visits to Paris with Rachel. I remember passing the Castle (I am sure it has some other wonderful name that I don't know). I loved (and still do) seeing the walls that were built by Irish masons that run the length of the highway headed to Rachel's house.

Beyond the places that I miss is the conversation. Even though I hadn't seen her in over seven years, we stepped right back into conversation like we had just seen each other last week. We have weathered storms together, celebrated together, cried together, and laughed together. With my mother, Rachel is one of only two people who get me.

And I get her. I am lucky to know the Rachel that most other people never meet. She is brave and wonderful, strong and silly.

I miss her. It has only been seven weeks, but it feels like another seven years have passed. I wish there were some way to combine our homes and remove the distance between them.

I didn't leave Paris and Rachel the way I arrived. I walked away with more great memories, and a couple of great food finds. I can now make brown butter rice crispy treats (which have been a big hit at work and taught me why other rice crispy treats just aren't great...it's the butter!).

Today, I sent text messages to Rachel for the ingredients for the second. I can now make it as well (see photo above). It brought me right back to that kitchen in Paris, having conversation over Greek salad, tuna, and orzo salad.

We have already decided that seven years between visits is SO not going to happen again. Until we can work that out, I will rely on my memories and recipes to ease the friendsickness.

And lots of text messages.

Just Me

2011-08-13T22:28:00.000-05:00

Why are you trying so hard to fit in when you were born to stand out?
Ian - What A Girl Wants

I was not born to stand out. I am sure someone, somewhere would like to debate that, but I really am okay with it. I have spent a great deal of my life just wanting to be included.

In barely over five days, I will venture to Lexington to see one of my dearest friends. I haven't gotten to actually spend time with her in many years, so I am thrilled to get to go.

While I am there, Rachel has planned a get-together, where I am hoping to get to meet some of my cheerleaders. I am SO exited.

And SO terrified.

Many of my insecurities are rearing their ugly heads.

What if I don't fit in?
What if I say something stupid or offensive?
Will I make a good impression?

Will they even like me??

These are some of my never-ending questions that are running on a continuous loop through my head.

At just over 30, I have basically figured out who I am. While I still have my moments, I am fairly comfortable in my own skin. I can easily be lost in a crowd of three and find myself generally unremarkable.

I'm just me.

But you know what, just me is just fine.

I learned long ago that part of being who I am is not trying to fit into the mold of others' expectations. Like everyone else, there are a lot of facets of my personality. This blog post would go on forever if I tried to explain "me" to the world.

So, I am at the point where excitement is overriding the nerves. I am both giddy with anticipation to see one of my oldest friends (in terms of length of friendship ONLY) and to meet the newest ones.

Just them. Just me.

I can't wait!

Cheerleaders

2011-08-01T22:42:00.000-05:00

It is true that the motivation for my weight loss had to start with me. What is also true is that the kind words of others served to motivate me beyond what I could do for myself.

Over the last year, I have learned something amazing. When you have rough days, days when you think you might not be able to make it, you reach out, and there is always someone with a kind word to pull you through.

For me, there were a lot of someones:

First are those who are physically closest to me: my husband, mother, pop, and son. They were always there with a "great job" and "good for you" right when I needed one. When I was exhausted, hungry, and really wanted to throw in the towel, they always seemed to know what to say to keep me pressing on. I am truly blessed by the family God has given me.

Next, my wonderful BFF Rachel. Through thick and thin, high and low, we have traversed many journeys together. She has sent text messages and coined hashtags that have kept me pressing on. She has a beautiful heart, and I more grateful to her than I have words to express. Tu es ma soeur dans mon coeur, toujours.

There's Tom, whose food posts have allowed me to live vicariously through his creations and has helped to forge a different relationship with food. Just as importantly, his guidance led me to a church family unlike any other. There is beauty in his food, greater beauty in his spirit.

And his husband, Michael, who, in the midst of his own unexpected life and career changes, still manages to offer kind words of encouragement. His insight is incomparable. More than once, I have pondered what he has said, only to end up in a different place altogether (in the best possible way).

Not to be alone in this journey, I have read as Emmie fights her own weight loss battle, only to be a great encouragement to me (and others). I have never subscribed to the idea that it is easy for any one who has done it. Through her ups or downs (whichever applies at the time), Emmie has shown me the payoff for sticking it out.

Holli goes out of her way to give pep talks. I also appreciate her take on motherhood, in that she doesn't shy away from the less glamorous aspects. She meets them head-on with signature wit and grace.

I am continually in awe of Greg's strength. I have read as he stands strong with Jason, in the face of those who would have him be someone less than he is. Again, beauty in that strength and such an example.

Cheers from Kristina are amazing! She has her own whirlwind life, but she still takes the time to cheer me through mine. She fights the good fight and stays strong for her family, particularly her daughter. In that aspect, she reminds me of my mother fighting for me as a young girl. A blessing for sure.

Bonny is brave, outspoken, and amazing. We have walked in the same shoes, on the same path and came out stronger on the other side. I adore her outspoken voice and unwavering faith.

Over the last year, I have had cheers from Christina, Heather, Ann, Brad, Jacqui, Beth, Michael , Thom, Tracie, Michelle, Nancy, Tia, Larry, Stacey, Rachel P, Brenna, Dean, Crisi, Julia, Dixie, Ashlee, Belinda, Betsy, Denise, Flo, Lisa, Deah, Dianne, Jeanine, Lydia, and Scott.

In no way do I think I caught everyone, and I apologize profusely for anyone I missed. Please know that each of you has lifted me on days when I was at my lowest, even if you didn't realize it at the time.

I hope, in due time, I can provide that same encouragement when you are in need. I will be forever grateful for such an amazing host of cheerleaders, peptalkers, bullies (you know you were sometimes), and friends.

In the end, simplest is best:

Thank you.

What A Difference A Year Makes

2011-07-31T22:06:00.000-05:00

One year ago, I made a decision. I did it because I was tired.

Tired of being tired.

Tired of feeling like less of a person, even though there was more of me.

Tired of worrying about what my family would do if my weight led to the end of me.

I had learned that I could use the money in my flexible spending account to pay for weight loss programs. To do so, I had to get my doctor to sign off on the need. Dr. B was willing to do so, but she wanted me to give her the opportunity to help me first.

When I stepped on that scale a year ago, I was flabbergasted. I wanted to believe that I couldn't figure out how I had allowed myself to gain that much weight. But deep down, I knew. I ate what I wanted, in the quantities I wanted, and I got very little in the way of exercise. The plans I had laid at age 30 to get healthy had gone by the wayside.

I haven't previously talked about what that scale said. I honestly have been too embarrassed. While many believe that a picture is worth a thousand words, I still think the words need to be said.

My weight one year ago was: 379.6 pounds.

You might as well call it 380, I sure did. I also call it unbelievable. I had major issues coming to terms with that number. I wanted to tell myself that the scale was wrong, but I knew better.

So, I set out on a journey. I worked to change my relationship with food, get myself moving, and finally take control of my weight and my life.

A week ago, I asked my mom to retake that picture. Here's what we got (I'll re-post those side by side below for comparison sake):

I feel like a different person. I sleep better, move better, am healthier, and know I am making the right changes. I no longer live to eat. Food is fuel, nothing more.

Don't get me wrong, I still love food. Tom's blog is still another type of poetry for me. Even with that, I no longer feel the need to gorge myself. There will always be more, so there is no need to feel like I have to eat everything I want all at once.

When I stepped on the scale today, my new weight was 296.5 pounds.

For those doing the math, that is a loss of 83.1 pounds!!

A testament to the change I have made is how I feel about that. I set out to lose 100 pounds. Previously, I would have been devastated that I did meet the goal and would slide back into my old habits.

Not this time.

I lost 83.1 pounds!!

That's all that matters. A even mentioned that this morning. How important it is to focus on what I HAVE done and not what I haven't.

I eat better.

I feel better.

And I run!

If that's the difference this year has made, I can't wait to see what happens during the next one!

Before

After

Cuts Like a Knife

2011-07-18T22:24:00.001-05:00

Z has a affinity for H2O. It is my fervent belief that he is part fish. He must be, as I have never had to fight to get him in the bathtub. He would be eternally pruney-fingered if I would simply allow him to spend as much time in the water as he wants.

It is this joy of the water that I got to experience with my son, husband, Mom, and Pop this past Sunday.

For the last few years, The Company has sponsored a summer event at Nashville Shores, a water park situated on the shores of Percy Priest Lake. We get a bargain price on tickets that includes all day fun, food, games, and parking. We went for the first time last year, and so I knew we were going to go this year as well.

As we went about the park, finding more and more fun, we found ourselves in the Lazy River. There are currents under the water that keep everyone moving around the space, regardless of how much energy you expend (or how little).

It was during this little venture with my family when I heard it.

The comment.

As I was walked along beside my husband and son, I heard someone say "Look there! It's the white hippo. And there's another one!" The only people of larger size around were me and another woman walking further ahead.

It has been quite some time since I have been subjected to verbal assaults from people in public arenas. The last time I dealt with them was because of the fact that we were an interracial couple in an small-minded town. I don't believe that I have heard comments about my weight since before I stood up to my brother as a teenager.

As I looked back, I realized those comments weren't from some immature kid whose parents hadn't taught him better manners. They were from a 30-something guy whose parents hadn't taught him better manners.

I will be honest, I was taken aback by the fact that someone my age would be so disrespectful to other human beings. Not to mention that he was so bold as to state this as close to me as he was. After all, I am fat. Not deaf.

When I look back on how I would have previously handled my emotions in the face of such a hurtful remark, I remember the pain. Comments about my weight had the power to slice me to ribbons in an instant. No matter how many times I had worked to feel better about myself, the words could destroy all of that work in an instant. I buried myself in food to hide the pain those damaging words would inflict.

Now, it's completely different. I have worked to heal myself, both outside and in. I have changed how I eat, how I live, and how I feel about myself. No longer do I need to hide myself away and smother my feelings with food. No more escape. No more fear. I AM strong. I AM beautiful. And I am NOT a damn hippo.

I also would have previously allowed John Doe to return my blistering gaze with his smirk and cowered under the power of my own inadequacies.

Not this time. I didn't rail. I didn't even bat an eye. I looked back at Mr. Doe and politely stated:

"Oh, look! It's a jackass in his natural habitat!"

Smirk gone. Balance restored. Fat Girl: 1. Loser: 0.

Cuts like a knife? Not anymore.

Parents Strongly Cautioned

2011-07-06T21:37:00.001-05:00

When my mother rented Robocop for my brother and me, she was probably just thrilled that we were able to agree on something. I can still remember the look on her face and the shrill "TURN THAT OFF RIGHT NOW!!" as the main character is brutally (and graphically) gunned down towards the start of the movie.

While the movies rating system was introduced in the late 60's, not many paid very close attention. Tom and Jerry were as violent as any movie we could have watched, so what was the difference?

For our generation, we are hyper-aware of the ratings the government places on our movies, television, and music.

Well, at least you think we would be.

I am the first to admit that I am constantly confused by the ratings applied to movies:

Shrek is rated PG, but Monsters, Inc (released the same year), with its growling hairy monsters only earned a G rating.

Anastasia and A Bug's Life earned G ratings in the late 90's, but movies with similar content (with regards to the violence, fighting, and innuendos) earn a PG rating today (see: Kung Fu Panda and How to Train Your Dragon).

This past Saturday, we went in search of a movie that was playing to which we could take our 4 1/2 year old son. He has already seen Mr Popper's Penguins (PG), Cars 2 (G-huh?), and Winnie the Pooh (G) was not going to be released for another couple of weeks.

The only thing that was even close to what we'd find interesting was The Green Lantern (stretching the boundaries with a PG-13 rating).

Me being me, I went in search of reviews that might give me some insight on the movie's content and if it really deserved to be rated so close to the edge of R. Most of what I read listed it as "not so bad" and "nothing so terrible." There were mentions of no sex, little foul language, and just some cartoon-ish mahem.

It was armed with this that we went forth to see The Lantern.

Idiots.

The fact that there were NO other children in the theater should have tipped us off. The first part was fine. However, as the movie progressed, it was clear that we had made a bad decision. Older children would probably be fine...as in the 13 and older recommendation made by the Motion Picture Association. As for our son, two thirds of the time was spent with closed eyes and covered ears.

It leads me to question the toys that are geared towards younger children. We are behind told that toy makers want you to play with the toys that represent the movies you should probably avoid taking your kids to see at the theater.

A mixed message of merchandising that goes right along with the mixed message of the ratings system itself.

Now, let me point out that I do NOT expect the government to tell me how to parent my child. Last time I checked, that is the job of the hubs and myself. It is our duty to determine what Z should and should not be allowed to see.

I count this experience as a lesson learned. No parent gets it right all of the time. Many may think that I should have known better. Again, I point out the flawed ratings system that is supposed to help me determine to what I should expose my son.

At the end of the day, everything is up for inspection. I know that I cannot shelter my son from all of the world. He needs the life experiences to grow and develop. However, if there are any questions about what he'll see, then it's off the table until hubs and I can watch it ourselves and make a decision.

Parents Strongly Cautioned indeed.

Transition

2011-06-26T19:53:00.001-05:00

Tran*si*tion [tran-zish-uh'n] noun. "A movement, development, or evolution from one form, stage, or style to another."

Change is coming.

In reality, change is always coming. It is the inevitability of change that is, in the end, its constant. You might not know what is going to be different, but you can count that something is going to be different.

My job is transition, literally. 90 days ago, I left my rotational position to join a previous boss in The Company's Transition department. It is my job to guide the newest members of The Company through training and their first twelve weeks on the phone.

Fear. Trepidation. Excitement. It all comes out in Transition. We have those who have worked in a call center, those who haven't. Those who have worked with customers, those who haven't. Those who will be successful, those who won't. And it is my job to usher them in and guide them along.

This past week, my first Transition class graduated. And my second class started training.

In the midst of this, I had to say goodbye.

My wonderful friend Scott is moving on to another position. It's a perfect one for him, one that will use the skills he spent years perfecting. He is smart and brave, even if he sometimes doubts both of those. He also doubts what he can do, but he should know that he will be amazing in the new role.

What's not amazing? It is a position that is not in our call center. For the last nine months, I have worked with him nearly every day. Joked with him nearly every day. Lunch, nearly every day. Same trainings, same time. I have learned about Family, Librarians, and Betty. And I have gained a forever friend.

Tomorrow, that will change. Tomorrow, I am on my own. Tomorrow, I am in transition.

I know my abilities, although I tend to question them. I like people, although (as previously mentioned) it takes me time to open up. And I know I can do this, although I'd rather not do it alone.

But, it is time to change. Rearrange. Rewrite the agenda.

I am in Transition...

...in more ways than one.

The Introverted Extrovert

2011-06-15T22:46:00.001-05:00

I am a people person.

Sort of.

I have never had an issue with speaking to people on the phone, which I suppose is beneficial in my line of work. I like solving issues and working to relate to them.

The funny thing? I have serious issues doing this in person. Every personality test I have taken has labeled me as an Extrovert. Essentially, I am supposed to be completely comfortable in group settings. I should be thrilled with the idea of interacting with new people and working a crowd.

Yeah, not so much.

I am rather inept at those situations. I don't mean to be standoffish, it's just my go-to habit when I want to prevent rattling to the point of being that annoying person. There doesn't seem to be much middle ground for me.

A couple of weeks ago, I RSVP'd my son for the birthday party of one of his daycare classmates. It was a spur of the moment decision. It wasn't until the morning of said party that I realized the full impact of this decision.

I was taking my son to a party.

A Pool Party.

With people I had NEVER met.

I still wonder why I did it. I know I'm not comfortable in these situations and, truth be told, I am a bit of a hermit. I like to be at home. I don't have some overwhelming desire to be a mover and a shaker.

So, we went. Z obviously had fun. He is part fish, after all. It also appears that when you stick 15 kids in a pool with a water slide their size, you don't have to worry about social ackwardness.

As for me, it was a little difficult. I normally have the buffer person. There is at least one person I know, so I am not completely alone in the new situation with new people.

This time, no buffer. No one I knew.

Commence freak-out.

Thankfully, there was one of those extroverted extroverts who truly doesn't ever meet a stranger. She was kind and chatty, making the discussion effortless for me. Which works for me. Once one of these highly friendly, knows-no-strangers people breaks the ice, I am welcome to go with it.

So, it appears that I will be attending more birthday parties and accepting invites for outings. I am hoping that this might help me step out of my comfort zone and meet new people. Additionally, I hope this helps Z become a little more outgoing and independent.

And that I learn to do the same.

The Journey of a Thousand Miles

2011-06-02T21:57:00.001-05:00

"...begins with a single step."

For the last few days, that single step has felt like it is in quicksand and the journey has never felt longer.

I am going to be honest...I feel off the wagon. No, it's probably more accurate to say that I willingly jumped off the wagon while it was still in motion.

On Friday, a follow up appointment didn't go as planned. I hadn't expected to hear great things, but I also didn't expect to get news that puts some plans on the back burner of a stove in China.

Based on that, I have fallen into bad habits. I really didn't care much about what I ate this weekend. If it appealed to me, I had it. Wings? Yep. Dessert? Sure. It was emotional eating, I know.

And I really didn't care.

On the heels of several days of caution to the wind noshing, a work email caught my attention. Our Wellness Center will be having a Biggest Loser contest. While I am feeling like the Biggest Loser right now, that's not quite what they have in mind.

I thought back to this same contest from two years ago. Two years ago, I was on the team that won this very contest. I was committed and really, really worked to do so. There were other people counting on me to succeed.

While I am not necessarily a competitive person by nature, I am very much dedicated to the team spirit. I don't want to disappoint anyone or be the one factor that could cause us to miss a goal. I also want to do it for me, to prove that I am not a quitter...I am NOT a loser.

So, while the journey is still feels endless, and my feet still feel leaden and burdened, I am pushing on.

One step at a time.

Pure Imagination

2011-05-23T22:19:00.001-05:00

Come with me

And you'll be

In a world of

Pure Imagination

With each passing day, I grow more and more amazed at the little person gifted to me.

One of my favorite things to watch my son do is create his own world. Today, it is talking dinosaurs and invisible flowers (a gift just for me). He is constantly creating his own games with rules that change. He is able to take something as simple as a cardboard box and small figures and create a whole world.

With each generation, it seems that the time for children to BE children gets shorter and shorter. Whether it is circumstance of life or simply the way of our world, it saddens me.

As Z gets older, I find the changes bittersweet. I love watching him develop and grow. At just over four years old, he can get dressed on his own and has an opinion about everything. Even with that, he still is little boy in that he lives for his blankie and loves to cuddle. He gets wound up and runs like a madman...and then curls up to snuggle to sleep.

Right now, I fight to keep his imagination alive. I nurture the dreams and build the cities. I enter the world he creates and allow him to build his dream world around us, taking us to magical places with magical people.

And for every day that he builds this world, I will come. I will build the forts and feed the animals and pretend that we are the wranglers and dinosaurs, cats, turtles, and lobsters.

Because, at the end of the day, "we are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams."

Don't Speak

2011-05-20T00:29:00.001-05:00

I am currently at war.

Every so often, the opposition gets the upper hand.

At the last moment, the champion rallies and is able to push back the onslaught.

So far, there have been no casualties. No blood has been shed, no collateral damage.

Because this war is contained. It has not spread, it has not become a plague upon the Earth.

It's a war of words.

And it's a war against myself.

I have always been the nice one. I generally go along to get along and choose to pick my battles. Since I don't normally get irritated, those battles are few and far between.

The reality of it is that I spend 80% of my time filtering what I say. The other 20%, I am speaking to my mother or sharing text messages with bluebelleinbg. Even then, I consider how what I say/text will be taken and sometimes even filter that (because I refuse to hurt those I love). I would love to say that I don't filter what I write here, but that would be untrue. I find often myself typing, reading, erasing, and retyping what I am thinking.

This ongoing battle recently came to light when I saw posts from "friends" on Facebook. I read through Christians spouting hate for what they either don't understand or simply feel they are "above." I see comments asking for funds to support "causes" that I find completely ridiculous. My hands itch to type...to respond...to spout my opinion in unlimited characters.

Every time, I either stop or type and then erase.

As I think on it, I realize I have always been this way. I'm not sure if it is just my nature to work to keep the peace or if I have adapted myself to be that way. As a leader at The Company, I absolutely CANNOT say what I am always thinking. To do so would not only be career suicide but could very well end my employment at the same time. For obvious reasons, I don't post The Company related comments on ANY social media outlet.

I would love to say that this has led to some grand epiphany, which will now lead to the floodgates of my thoughts/feelings/opinions being opened.

Yeah...not so much.

At the end of the day, I am still me. I am still going to consider the feelings of others before I spout off.

And I am still going to laugh at those whom I love who throw caution to the wind and type/say exactly what they think.

And hope that each of you is aware of how thankful I am that you give my thoughts freedom, even when I don't.

Rent-A-Cat

2011-05-16T22:29:00.001-05:00

After spending over a decade together, I have come to understand my husband very well. Last week, he informed me of his desire to add a feline member to our household. To anyone else, that might seem like a random request.

However, I have learned that hubs very rarely (if ever) acts rashly. That meant that he had been contemplating the addition of a feline friend for a while.

Since there are lots of worthy animals in our area awaiting new homes at our local shelter, my first stop was their website. All available animals are listed at PetFinder, so off I went in search of a kitty to fit our family. We located a couple online who looked promising and fit our desires (adult female, short-haired), so we planned on a trip on Friday to the shelter.

In the interim, I mentioned the search to my mother. Since both boys have a history of allergies, she proposed an idea. Instead of getting a cat who might have to go back due to the allergies, she recommended we ask Poppa about "renting" one of his kitties. This would allow for us to try out the cat without worrying about the cost or sadness for Z if he got attached and the cat had to be returned.

So, last week, I ventured over to collect our Rent-A-Cat: Abby. The first night was the "getting to know each other" night. Lots of curious wandering for her...lots of following to make sure nothing was ingested, scratched, or left behind for me.

As you can see, I clearly needn't have worried:

Two days later, the question came. I had expected it much sooner, so two days was a stretch. The question? "Mommy, can Abby live with us forever?"

Thankfully, Abby didn't trigger allergies the way our previous canine companion did. However, the ultimate decision would be left up to Poppa. Would he let her stay?

Apparently, the contract included a rent-to-own clause.

After years as dog people, we are now venturing into cat ownership, as we are officially Abby the Tabby Cat's owners. While we don't have the basics to worry about (feeding, watering, litter-boxing have all been taught, since she's an adult kitty), we are quickly learning her personality and her quirks (not a fan of kitty treats or her new collar, loves plastic eggs).

So, we're getting to know one another, one day at a time. So far, so good.

We might turn out to be cat people after all.

Giving Back

2011-04-30T18:39:00.000-05:00

Cancer is the uncontrolled growth of abnormal cells in the body.

Such a seemingly simple definition. If you didn't know, you would think the condition being defined was just as simple. In reality, there are over two hundred different kinds of the disease with countless treatment plans and account for 25% of the yearly total of deaths in the United States alone (and a total of 13% of them worldwide).

Until last year, my family had been blessed to have never been touched by this deadly disease. Last year, that changed. Last year, my mom met a fantastic man. With their marriage early this year, he is now my stepfather. Poppa is a gentle, kind man with a heart of gold. My son, who takes forever to warm up to people, took an instant shine to his new Poppa. Poppa is not just a wonderful new dad and grandfather...

Poppa is a cancer survivor.

So when my friend Scott recruited me for his Relay for Life team, I didn't mind at all. All I could think about was the treatment that so many others might not get and the opportunity to raise money for research to create more survivors.

When I first joined the team, we sold raffle tickets for a day of Spring cleaning. Three weeks later, I was up to my elbows in dirt, snapdragons, and mulch.

It was a chilly, fresh after the rain day, and I couldn't have been happier doing what I was doing. Knowing that I could in some small way contribute to our team's success and give back to the American Cancer Society left me with such a feeling of accomplishment.

Today was yard sale day. After braving the doctor's office to get treatment for an ear infection, I headed over to the yard sale to do what I could. Another great day with the proceeds benefiting Relay for Life and the American Cancer Society.

In thirteen days, the actual event will take place. There are lots of activities starting at 6 pm on Friday, May 13th and running into 6 am on Saturday, May 14th.

With thirteen only days to go, I am at 20% of my personal goal. It's a small one: only $100. But with matching funds from The Company, I can make it $200.

That's where I ask you to come in. I only need to raise $80 in 13 days. It's absolutely possible, but not without help.

Please visit my personal page here and give anything you can. Even $1 becomes $2.

Please help me fight cancer and fight back!!

Perfect Imperfections

2011-04-11T21:21:00.001-05:00

When Z was just a few months old, he started suffering from repeated ear infections. We were at the doctor no less than ten times in just four months. I was beginning to worry that I was overreacting. I worried that the doctor would think I was crazy. Yet, each time we went, either one or both of his ears were infected. Finally, we were given the option to have vent tubes put in his ears. With him being so young, we weighed the pros and cons and made the decision to go ahead. Once the tubes were in, we were only at the doctor for checkups.

Two years later, the tubes were gone and the infections were back. The choice was tubes again or to try and establish the cause with testing. So, to the allergist we went. The recommendation at that point was to start weekly shots to try and lessen the impact of Z's environment. Again, we were charged with making a choice. Did we subject him to weekly injections in an effort to allow him to be a "normal" kid? Would it even work? We did the research and decided to go ahead. As a child who hated to be confined, the biggest issue was how traumatic these shots would be. We nixed the idea of holding him down for the shots, and he simply hands over that week's arm for the "pinch." To date, Z is still the best shot patient.

And, again, a good choice. Z can now play outside in the grass without coming back inside and scratching gashes into his legs. To date, there have been no ear infections. OTC allergy medicine now works to squash the worst of the problems.

A month ago, we were charged with yet another parental choice.

Some background: when Z was two, I began to notice that his right foot was turning in. I mentioned it during his checkup, and his pediatrician assured me it was normal. At age three, the foot was worse. I mentioned it again, and again was advised that it was perfectly normal and should correct itself within the next year. As that year passed, I noticed his left foot had indeed begun to face forward. The right foot? Not so much.

I again began to wonder if I was overreacting. Everything I read said that it should be fine by the time he was six. That meant two more years of "watch and see."

Everything I could see said we didn't need to wait that long. While I realize that a little clumsiness is normal; the inability to run even a short distance without falling is not. Growing pains are normal; nearly screaming in pain because your leg hurts is not. I had already learned through my own interactions with doctors who refused to act that sometimes you must take control of your own health.

And so, I had decided that if his doctor didn't recognize what I thought was a problem with his foot, I would get another opinion.

Again, I needn't have worried. Z has an amazing pediatrician. He has taken care of Z since the moment Z was pulled into the world. I trust his judgement and his advice. So, when I again mentioned Z's foot, Dr R decided to send us to a podiatrist.

The verdict? Correction was needed. I was barely able to hold back the tears.

Tears for relief. Tears for fear. Tears for the unknown.

Would we again have to make the decision to allow someone to put our son to sleep and surgically correct the problem? What would the recovery be like? (Can you tell I am one of those "what if" people?)

Again, I needn't have worried. The fix was simple. Z has been fitted with his "special shoes." They fit into his regular tennis shoes and are barely noticeable. He'll wear them for a few months, and then the most major issue will be corrected.

With this newest addition to Z's list of "imperfections," I have come to a realization:

Moms are too hard on themselves...and each other. I, of course, wonder what I could have done differently. Did I wait too long? Not long enough? Is every decision I make really the best for him in the long run?

In the grand scheme of life, Z's small issues are nothing. There are brave mothers who wake up every day to another round of tests, another set of treatments, or another day of care on a schedule. My family trials are small in comparison; yet I still work to do my best. Sometimes it doesn't feel like enough, especially when the advice I am given leads me to think there is more blame included than actual helpful hints. When we should be lifting one another up, we are instead judging each other based on how well we doing are at mothering, as if this is some sort of contest.

If we do that, no one wins.

The reality is, there are no perfect parents and no perfect children. But the other reality is that we are all loved perfectly.

Perfect imperfections made whole through God's love.

What could be better?

Food, Glorious Food

2011-03-30T18:00:00.060-05:00

Courtesy Fellow Cruiser

If you have been on a cruise, then you are well aware of how wonderful the food is.

And how much of it there is to be found.

If you desired, you could really eat 24 hours a day. There are the basic sandwiches and pizza, to sushi, buffet, exquisitely prepared dishes, and on our ship, the Steakhouse.

The food is phenomenal. You can have it prepared any way you choose, in any combination.

I took the trip as an opportunity to expand my culinary horizons. I chose dishes that I might otherwise pass up.

The one meal that fell most outside my comfort zone was Seafood Newburg. It was touted as a wonderfully rich seafood stew with a side of saffron infused rice and broccoli.

As a note: I love seafood. If it lives its life under the water, it is highly possible that I will eat it. The exception in the past has been mussels (and non-sustainable seafood). I have tried to eat the large version. The chewy, funky texture was just more than I could handle. I had sworn them off forever.

So, Seafood Newburg seemed like a fantastic idea. With the ingredients listed as scallops, shrimp, and lobster, I thought I was safe.

Imagine my surprise when the plate placed before me not only had two small mussels in their black shell homes circling the plate, but also had them nestled in the creamy sauce along with the plump shrimp, succulent scallops, and juicy chunks of lobster meat.

There really were only two choices here: 1. Eat around them. 2. Let go of the past and dig in.

For a brief moment, I considered option number 1. The idea of eating the little slugs really almost did me in. But, I figured in for a penny, in for a pound. When you are surrounded by wait staff who have given up eight months of their lives to earn money for their families in poor, 3rd world countries, wasting food just seems wrong. Unless it is really inedible or there was an allergy concern, I couldn't even consider wasting a meal.

So, I dug in.

And they were awesome! That slug-like texture of the larger mussels was absent in the smaller version. They complemented the other seafood wonderfully and were just amazing.

From a ship perspective, it was one of my two favorite meals.

Rich, decadent, and adventurous.

Food, glorious food.

Reunited

2011-03-29T20:39:00.001-05:00

When the Mr and I started talking about what we wanted to do for our 10th wedding anniversary, we kicked around several ideas.

First, we talked about Australia. A coworker of mine lived there for several years and talked about how wonderful it would be. We also talked about going to Japan. Both of those were bypassed because of the cost of plan tickets.

We were going to go to a resort, but that brought about the question of which one on which island.

It was really the desire to see different things that led us to choose the cruise option. For a set price, meals and lodging were covered. We would also get the opportunity to see several places to which we had never been. Most importantly, we had the opportunity to be.

Be away.

Be together.

Be lazy.

Be disconnected from our regular lives.

Be connected to one another.

Reunited.

We spent a great deal of time just talking. With an awesome upgrade to the balcony (thanks again for the push Tom), we had the opportunity to watch the sun rise. the sun set, the shorelines appear on port days, and disappear as we left ports in the evening.

We watched shows, had a few drinks, lots of laughs, lots of fun together. We perused stores while in port, walked the decks when not, and really spent our time falling in love all over again.

We ate dinner at a "romantic table for two for the honeymooners" (per our hostess). When we informed her we were actually celebrating our 10th anniversary, she was shocked. She told us that with our heads together and the attention we paid to one another, she automatically assumed we were newlyweds.

Mission Accomplished.

Reunited.

And it feels so good.

Unplugged

2011-03-14T21:23:00.000-05:00

I am going to give fair warning: the next few posts will be Cruise-centric. I would apologize for that, but in the end, this is my blog and the topics are my prerogative. I appreciate your visits...I really do. So, I will try to keep the extended versions offline and on paper only.

It has been a long time since I have been detached from some form of technology. I work for The Company, after all. I carry two Android devices, have Facebook and Twitter accounts, and text like a fiend. I, like most people, enjoy the instant gratification that comes with connecting to others in an instant. Recently, my BFF Rachel have decided to connect offline in an effort to bring that more personal touch to our communication.

This past week, Hubs and I made the decision to be as unplugged as possible. Since Z stayed behind with Nana and Pap, we did need to have at least one voice device for emergencies. So, I changed one of the Android phones to a really basic flip phone, its purpose only for calls and minimal text messaging.

I will tell you that this initially became the plan once we realized the cost of connecting when on the ship. For the bargain price of $100, you can purchase 250 minutes of Wi-Fi time.

Yeah. No.

Add in the cost of maintaining a global data plan (even with my discount) and it just didn't make fiscal sense.

More importantly, this trip's purpose was to reconnect, recharge, and rejuvenate. We spend so much time moving in opposite directions that it was so wonderful to be moving in sync. Hubs and I really had an opportunity to hang out together and just be us.

I do have to tell you that I also took this as an opportunity to really examine the hold all my connections have on me. Every time Hubs asked me a question to which I didn't have the answer, I realized that my first instinct was to Google it on my Android browser. Nearly every meal, I had an overwhelming desire to text either Rachel or Tom to figure out what in the world I was choosing for my dinner (more on the food in a later post).

And yet, I am still in no real hurry to reconnect completely. Those blog posts might take some time, since Z is filling me in on his wonderful week. I did want to make sure that my wonderfully supportive friends knew we were back safely (a priority only achieved by instant communication), but I still have tons of unread emails.

I know that I have to dive back in full force soon. There are messages to answer and connections to be maintained. Questions will arise that need research and conversations will occur online that I will just itch to join.

But I come back to it with a new perspective. Unplugging is good. Reconnecting, even better. Technology has its place and purpose, but there is also a time to log off.

And that time is now.

Giving Up

2011-03-02T20:49:00.000-06:00

This past week, I gave it all up.

I threw in the towel and decided I have had enough.

All this food restriction, exercising, hunger, and changing of my food relationship have just left me a different person.

You see - the cruise is now in just under three days, and two weeks ago, I had absolutely nothing to wear (literally). I scoured online sites looking for clothes that I could take, realizing that they are few and far between because Spring clothes just aren't out yet.

After finding a couple of gems (clearance from last year's Spring/Summer collection), I still needed more to take with me. So, I made the decision to unearth a few totes that have taken up residence in my closet over the years.

Every time I have tried to lose weight in the past, I hold on to my larger sizes. I am not sure if it's this idea that I am going to fail or just prudence on my part because every other time I have failed.

But this time, as I was digging through the items and finding Spring/Summer clothes that now fit again (yeah me!), I realized something.

I am NEVER going to be that person again. I have worked too hard to even allow the idea that I might fail to enter the picture.

And so, with a very light heart, I bagged up the clothes that are now too large and packed them off to my local Goodwill dropoff. They have a mission in which I believe and work diligently to employ those who might otherwise struggle to find a job. It is almost impossible to find good condition plus sized clothes at Goodwill, mainly because the cost of them means they get worn until they are nearly falling apart and unable to be donated. So, the clothes are serving a great purpose and will hopefully soon find new homes.

And with that, I have given up. I have given up the idea of failure. I have given up thinking food is going to make anything better.

And I have given up on giving up on myself.

I'm So Vain

2011-02-21T20:08:00.000-06:00

When I got my first pair of glasses at age nine, I thought the world would come to an end. I had put it off as long as I could, choosing to move closer and closer to the front of the room in an effort to prevent the end of life as I knew it. Glasses were so not attractive, as a couple of my classmates had already learned. Since I already held the "chubby girl" distinction, I didn't need to add "four eyes" to that (although, I really still don't understand that taunt).

However, that year, my highly observant teacher sent home the dreaded "I think Robin needs glasses" note. My mother promptly carted me off to the eye doctor, where I was fitted for my first pair of glasses. Due to the traumatic nature of the experience, I have blocked out what that first pair even looked like. Rest assured, since it was the mid-80's, I highly doubt they were anywhere near as cute as the ones above.

I detested my glasses. Even once cuter styles emerged, it was a long time before I began to appreciate the tools that afforded me the gift of sight. The one pair that was the exception was a gold pair of square frames that once belonged to my mother. They fit perfectly with my tie-dyed, bell-bottomed sense of style (yeah, I was that girl). I wore those until they could no longer stand up under constant adjustments and lens replacements.

Once those glasses were retired, I began to ask for contacts. It wasn't until after I turned 16 that my request was given serious consideration. I was granted reprieve from my glasses, only to learn that the first contacts I had required more care than I expected. I can count more times than I care where I stuck them in after a night of enzyme cleaning without scrubbing the eye-frying cleaner off. I did move into the land of disposable contacts later on, which eliminated that step.

While I was unemployed, contacts were a luxury we could ill afford, so they were briefly retired. Once we moved and had vision insurance again, I decided to go back to them. Alas, my work environment is a dry one, and I again let them fall by the wayside. I also stopped really paying much attention to how I looked, so glasses were fine.

Since I have taken the time to focus on myself and my health, my "vanity" has transferred to other parts of my life. I made a promise to myself that I would no longer purchase warm up suits to live in (which had been the norm). Regardless of how I feel on any given day, I make an effort with my clothes, hair, and makeup. I get my hair cut ever 8-10 weeks, and I took the time to find makeup that works for me.

Today was my 23rd-ish eye exam. I went in to get my routine check, and the new eye doctor asked if I had considered contacts. I explained the above issues, and she recommended the daily wear. You wear them once, and then you toss them. With the idea that they could be worn every once in a while without needing storage or cleaner, I was sold.

I walked out today with a five day trial, so we'll see. I have always loved the idea of skipping glasses. A whole new world of sunglass options open up, which is perfect for the cruise. With the amount of sunshine that will be around, contacts will come in handy.

One more piece of vanity. One more moment to think of myself.

And, you know, it's not such a bad thing.

Old School

2011-02-14T19:41:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, while out and about having time with my boys, I happened to see a Blockbuster video with signs in the windows declaring that "Everything Must Go!" I missed the closing of my local Blockbuster for movie deals, so I had hubs pull in.

I was particularly looking for a copy of Pixar's The Incredibles (which I refuse to pay full retail for now that it is several years old). No luck there, but we did find several Indie films (for me), a NASA documentary (for hubs), and some Care Bears (for the boy). For my take on "boy" things, please see here.

I have fond memories of the Care Bears. The Care Bear movie was the first one I remember seeing in a theater. I was on a mother/daughter vacation when I was little in Savannah, Georgia, and I felt like I was all grown up.

As my son watched the episodes in the collection to the left, I was taken back to my childhood and that trip. To rushing out of bed on Saturday mornings to see my favorite Care Bears (Good Luck Bear and Hugs 'n Tugs) and Care Bear Cousins (Tender Heart Elephant). My Care Bears went with me to watch their animated counterparts in action.

After he finished watching the first collection, he moved on to this:

This is touted as the Care Bears' "first CGI Animated Movie!"

Within the first few minutes, I began to wonder if this was a good thing. With all fairness, there are 16 years between these two DVD's. There is a push to move away from old school animation.

And it is sad.

As I pass each birthday, I look back on the things of my childhood with fondness. Nostalgia takes over, and I grow wistful with remembrance of movies, music, and stages of my life that have moved into the past.

While "classic" Disney movies like Beauty and the Beast and Snow White are "Digitally Remastered" to be brighter and improved, they are not subjected to a complete overhaul with new sub-par versions of themselves.

I battle with how I feel about this. I like the updates, but I am concerned about the potential for a time to arise when the joys of my childhood have well and truly passed away.

And so, I don't waste a moment. I take every opportunity to share the loves of my childhood with my son, hoping that when he has children he will do the same.

Heavy

2011-01-30T18:13:00.000-06:00

While I was perusing the endless world of On Demand searching for "something special" per request of Z, I saw a commercial for "Heavy," a new series on A&E. In the same tradition of "Intervention" and "Hoarders," "Heavy" focuses on two individuals looking to save their lives by changing their eating and exercise habits.

Rather than focus on weight loss surgeries (which I believe to be entirely necessary for some people, but that's another post), the show takes two people out of their lives for 30 days to work solely on retraining them in the areas of food and weight loss. They employ trainers, dietitians, and therapists to ensure that all aspects are addressed. There is no competition here. No prizes to be won, other than getting life back.

So, I thought I'd take a peek.

I was very struck by Jodi (one of the participants) on the first show. In the middle of exercising, she had a breakdown. It's one that I have had time and time again.

You see, when I have started on this journey in the past, I have been excited about the beginning. I go in with guns blazing, knowing that I am going to do it this time. I am not going to fail.

Jodi was the same way, but she found herself stumbling over the same roadblock I have in the past: the expectation that you should be doing more. It's the idea that you can take it off in an instant. That you should be dropping pounds like sweat. You have spent so much time ignoring yourself that you expect to be superwoman. And you have watched so many episodes of "The Biggest Loser," that you believe it's completely normal to lose 8-10 pounds a week (not outside the highly regimented life of The Ranch, it's not).

For me, when that didn't happen before, I gave up. I figured if I couldn't see immediate results, then it meant I had failed...again. But this time, it's different.

And I have no idea why.

Ever since I had a Twitter conversation with Holli a couple of weeks ago, I have been trying to find the answer. I know my relationship with food is different, I just don't know why. I know that I have stopped looking at it as "I only lost X pounds/ounces, whatever" this week and now think "Sweet! Lighter than last week!," but again, I don't know why.

And, while I wait for that answer to come to me, I keep pressing on. I look at how far I have come. I am now six pants sizes and two shirt sizes smaller. I play with my son, and he doesn't have to slow down. I enjoy finding new ways to eat my old favorite foods, and I have discovered that I really do like to cook.

My journey is far from over. But I no longer think I have miles and miles left to go. I enjoy my small victories and know that I am making changes that will last a lifetime. I know that I am teaching my son to have a healthy relationship with food and a love of being active.

As a check-in, I am almost halfway to the 30 pounds I wanted to lose before the cruise leaves in March. WHEN I make it, I will be a total of 60 pounds lighter (which is the average weight of a 9 year old boy).

On the eve of the six month anniversary of the start of this journey, I am healthier and happier than I have been in such a long time. I love me. Not in the egotistical, narcissistic way. But in the way that drives me to be better for myself.

In the end, maybe that's the answer. Maybe it has to be about me first.

And now, it is.

Just Enough

2011-01-27T20:44:00.000-06:00

A month ago, I received a very daunting bag of goo and some instructions. A coworker of my husband's had sent home the Amish Friendship Bread starter. I haven't had any in such a long time that I readily agreed to take the starter.

Basic info: you add stuff to the goo on day six. On day ten, you add more stuff, split the goo, add more goodies, bake, keep one of the new starters, and give the other three away with the instructions. The smell of cinnamon fills the house as it bakes.

I am now on my third round of baking. Once you have given one away, that person now has his/her own Friendship Bread starter (and three more of his/her own to give away). So, you have to find new people who want them. Each time, I have wondered how I am going to find three new people to give the starter.

And each time, all three end up with new homes.

On the last round, I gave a starter to a dear friend at work. Yesterday, we were discussing that it was almost time to bake and he said he wasn't sure if he had everything he needed. I told him not to buy a lot of extras, I thought I had plenty. I knew I this was true of the baking soda, baking powder, and pudding needed for the bread. I thought I also had enough flour to share, since he was only one cup short.

In order to have enough flour to make the new starters and the bread, you need three and a half cups of flour. When I measured the amount of flour I had left last night, I had four and a half cups.

One cup extra. Just enough.

To add to that, when I went to use the sugar from the canister, I had three cups of sugar left. And what do you know? You need three cups to make the new starters and bread.

Just enough.

Cautiously Optimistic

2011-01-25T20:32:00.000-06:00

I have mentioned before that I try to be an optimistic person. I know there is much suffering in the world, some of it in my own family in Kenya. I know I have been blessed.

It's part of what makes my current assignment at The Company difficult to digest on some days. I know it's your lifeline. I get that. It is important, however, to keep everything in perspective.

So, in an effort to get back to what I love (working directly with reps at The Company), I applied to work with the newest members of The Company's family (the new hires).

Internal candidate form completed. Resume updated. Impressive cover letter written. All submitted before the deadline.

And then the call.

I got a call last night telling me I would have an interview TODAY, as in less than 24 hours later. Providing the silver lining is @bluebelleinbg, who keeps me centered in the craziness. The bright side provided? Less time to stress.

So true.

I woke up, donned the suit, and planned to get to work early to pull data I needed, easing into my day. Got Z up and dressed and on the way out the door, when I saw my first roadblock to an easy day. The flat tire.

But, still a silver lining: I had a four hour drive between home and college and was taught before my first day of school how to change a tire. Additionally, the tire was flat at home instead of out on the road with my toddler.

So, off came the suit, on came the grubby clothes. Hubs woke up and provided muscle and 12 minutes later, the tire was changed. With the promise of a new tire by afternoon, I left my car in his capable hands, donned the suit (again), packed up the boy, and was on my way.

The interview went okay, I think. I tend to be very critical of myself, and it is easier to think of all of the things I should have said instead of what I said well.

I remain cautiously optimistic. I hope my qualifications and passion can outweigh my mediocre interview. I would LOVE to have one of the two positions. My caution doesn't outweigh my desire to be successful, it is just insulation to ensure that I can continue to be successful in the face of challenges.

And so, I wait for news. We'll see how it goes. Either way, I am prepared for the answer.

And waiting for the silver lining.

Ends and Beginnings

2011-01-07T21:12:00.000-06:00

I cannot believe how quickly 2010 passed. Regardless of how I would like for time to stand still, it inevitably continues to speed by with no hint of slowing. To know where I am going for 2011, I have to look back on where I have been through last year.

Last year, I found myself wanting more. Not more stuff, I have plenty of that. I wanted more to my life. More joy, more belonging, more of that seemingly undefinable feeling that makes a person sigh with contentment.

And so, I set out to find more.

The first thing I wanted more of was life, which required me to actually work on having less. Less food, less excuses, less resting on my previous failures. This didn't come at the start of the year. I didn't really decide to have more of life until I had the first conversation with Dr. B on July 31st. The goal was set (lose 50 pounds by the end of the year) and the (meal) plan was put in place.

Results? 42 pounds gone. Was it 50? Nope. But that wasn't important. What is important is that I lost the excuses and the defeat and instead of "I didn't meet my goal. I give up" (my previous M.O.), my thought was "I ROCK!! I lost 42 pounds!!"

And now I have more. More confidence. More support. And more room in my jeans (I really need to go shopping).

I also have more joy in playing with my son. I don't get tired as easily, which means more time to play together. So much more.

I also went for more belonging in 2010. I had grown tired of feeling out of place, so we found a new church in 2010. And the happiness and comfort in this decision carries us into 2011. Each time we enter the church, someone new greets us warmly. It is as if we have been part of St. Paul's all our lives. Just today, I was told how lucky we were to have found a church family like this. I find it more God's intervention than luck, but I knew what she meant.

And so, I say goodbye to 2010. But I am not saying goodbye to the lessons learned and the more that I gained.

In 2011, I am holding on to more life, more joy, and more us. My life is full, beautiful, blessed. I enter 2011 with hope and excitement. I am in a position to enjoy more of life by working my weight loss plan. My goal this year is to lose 100 pounds. It's daunting, yes. But it is also completely within my control to do it.

And I WILL do it.

Lucky

2010-12-30T09:34:00.000-06:00

I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend.
Lucky to have been where I have been.
Lucky to be coming home again.
Lucky we're in love in every way.
Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed.

Ten years ago today, I married my perfect match.

I will be the very first to tell you that I am only mediocre at the romantics. Flowers are nice every once in a while; however, love manifests for me in so many other forms:

Standing at the altar, promising to love and to cherish.

Honoring that promise during that first rocky year.

Promising we were in it together when our infertility was finally diagnosed as "my" problem.

Rejoicing with me four years later when we learned we were pregnant.

Holding me up when my heart was collapsing due to the loss of our first son.

Loving me through my fear when we learned our second child was on the way.

Making me proud when he took his oath of citizenship.

Crying with joy when we heard and saw Z's heartbeat for the first time.

Attending EVERY doctor's appointment with me.

Worrying about me to himself but only showing me strength.

Crying right along with me as our son cried his way into the world.

Rejoicing with me in our ups.

Standing firmly with me in our downs.

In the end, there is one resounding force behind it all: love.

Cliche as it might sound, I have been blessed to find the love of a lifetime. I know how lucky I am to have been gifted with this time with my husband, and I take not even one second for granted.

The last ten years have been the best of my life. My husband and I have grown over the years. We have grown wiser. Grown separately as people. Grown as parents. And most importantly, we have grown together.

So today, I rejoice in the day we went from him and me to us. I am looking forward to every other second we are granted together.

I cannot wait to see what each one brings us.

This Christmas

2010-12-29T20:40:00.001-06:00

Each year, one of the houses on my way home from work becomes a veritable smorgasboard of Christmas light merriment. There are Santas, bears, Nativity scenes, a dragon, a ship...and more. And all of this is set to music. Pull up in front of the house and roll down the window and Christmas Carols fill the air.

Every year before this one, I couldn't believe that someone would put all of this in one yard. Don't get me wrong, it's still a lot more decoration than I would choose for my yard. But it's not my yard.

I will be quite honest. When I first planned this post, it had a different feel to it. It was still my Scrooge-y thinking. I started out thinking that there was no reason for a person to have that much stuff.

As the days of Advent passed and our family was drawn more and more into the anticipation and true feeling around the season, I really began to see why people love this time of year. The fun, the wonderment, the all-around good feelings that seem to be sizzling in the air around us all. There is so much to be learned and gained from this time of year. I watched the pure child excitement from my son and have been completely caught up in it with him.

And that includes the lights. I have begun to look at them in a different light. Yes, there might be more than I would put in my yard. But, what if the people who live in the house are simply trying to share the joy they feel during the Christmas season with others? The display has grown over the years, and I would like to think it is because the joy of the season has grown in the hearts of those who own the house.

This Christmas has been about renewed hope, new traditions, and a new outlook on many of the aspects of our family life.

And while Christmas is still not my favorite holiday (St. Patrick's Day still winning top honors), it is certainly mow running a close second.

Birthday Blessings

2010-12-22T21:20:00.000-06:00

I have decided that we all approach our birthdays in different ways. First, there is trepidation. We worry about getting older. We fret about all the things we wanted to do and didn't. Next, there is ambivalence. It is simply another day in life. Nothing more, nothing less.

And then, there are those who look on their birthday with joy. Joy for having been given another year to live life, be with family, share with friends. That's not to say there is only one choice. Every birthday is different.

Today, on my birthday, there is joy. I am well and truly blessed. I also started the day with tears. The good kind.

The morning started off with my wonderful husband bringing me these beautiful roses:

You have to understand the type of relationship we have to understand how sweet this is. I will be the first to tell you that I am not primarily a romantic person. My husband is a fantastic mate, partner, husband, father, etc. He does so very much for me to help me be a better person. So, when flowers show up, they are even more special because they are not the most common way we express love.

And I would have it no other way.

He also brought me what has to be the sweetest card EVER. For a man who can be silent, he does a phenomenal job at finding what he wants to say in the middle of a Hallmark card.

After work, I thought I'd go have a birthday dinner with myself. A little time alone to celebrate me. That idea lasted for about five minutes.

Birthdays are about love and togetherness for me. So, hubs had to work. So what? Ziggy was still at home. And while he might not fully understand the "specialness" of birthdays. I do, and I wanted to spend it with him. Instead of a steak and veggies and free birthday cheesecake, I had Sloppy Joe's made with my son. One of the best birthday dinners to date.

The day started with tears. The day ends with them as well. Both times, good tears. My day has been one of joy. Thankfulness for another year of life. Appreciation for more love than I ever could have imagined.

And anticipation for what the next year (if I am again so blessed to have it) will bring.

Lessons and Carols

2010-12-19T19:43:00.000-06:00

When it comes to Christmas carols, I am a traditionalist. I love Bing and Nat. I enjoy the simple melodies of Oh Come, All Ye Faithful and O Come, O Come Emmanuel.

For the last couple of weeks, I have seen the Lessons and Carols in the announcements. For once, I actually didn't research it (I know, right?). I don't think I actually made a final decision about going until after service this morning. Mrs. Jo is a wonderful, wonderful lady at St. Paul's to whom Z has taken a liking. She is so very sweet and asked if we were going to be there later.

That's all it took.

Z then asked me over and over again if we were going. Who was I to say no? Stipulation: must have a nap. It's been a while since he has gone to sleep that fast.

I know that society tries to teach us that life is all about excelling, standing out, and that bigger is better.

That is SO not my way of life. I like simple. I like pure beauty. I find beauty in all of life, not just what society tells me what is beautiful. I find it in nature, in watching a child learn something new, in an elderly couple with stars still in their eyes.

The service tonight was the epitome of beauty. The Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols is comprised of nine Biblical selections about man's fall, the promised Messiah, and Christ's birth all interwoven with musical selections. These musical selections are sang by the choir, children's choir, and/or the congregation.

There is little in life that matches the beauty found in the sound of a few hundred voices lifted in song together to rejoice in His coming.

Traditional. Simple. Beautiful.

Pick One

2010-12-12T19:11:00.000-06:00

It never ceases to amaze me the boxes we try to put each other and ourselves in. We want categories: black, white, gay, straight, fat, thin, short, tall, smart, not-so-much...boy, girl.

I am not now, nor have I really ever been, a fan of the box ideology. I don't get why I can't just be me, whoever that is. And I will be the first to tell you that it probably changes daily.

That's also why I try to prevent putting my own child in a little box. Take this afternoon for example. We have started a family tradition on Sundays. After church, we hit the Big M for a happy meal. They are very known for carrying two different toy campaigns at once. Currently, the choices are Transformers figures or Sanrio watches. This, of course, leads to the economical way to ask which toy a child would like. When I placed my order today, I got the expected "is that toy for a boy or girl?"

The manager I worked for was quite unique in this regard. When I worked for the Big M in high school, she was adamant that we asked in terms of the campaign. She wanted no parent to feel compelled to place his/her child in the gender box. So, today, when I was asked that question, I responded with "a Sanrio watch, please."

I won't put my child in a box. He watches Dora AND Diego. He has Transformers AND Sanrio watches. He likes Scooby Doo AND Disney Princesses. He plays with cars AND cuddles his teddy bears.

I don't want my child to pick one. I want him to be free to like what he likes and be who he is.

Whoever that is.

And even if it changes every day.

Out of Place

2010-12-08T20:28:00.000-06:00

My entire life, I have felt on the edge. In school, I wasn't exactly a standout. I did well academically, but while there were those around me who had one subject they excelled at over the others, I didn't. I was the jack of all trades and the master of none.

This has really continued into my adult life. As I have gotten older, I have probably become more and more guarded. With a hidden desire to find my place, this doesn't really help me reach that end. I want to feel like I have a place, I am just not sure really how to find it.

My self-esteem issues as a child and young adult have passed into my adult life in some aspects. I want to be accepted for who I am, even though I am still learning who that is. I spent such a great deal of time being looked over that I am not exactly sure what it feels like to be looked at.

Six weeks ago, I decided to make a major change for us as a family. My son and I started to attend St. Paul's Episcopal Church at the advice of some wonderful people. It was a huge change, but I believe change, when entered into at the best time, is a good thing. When I first started attending, I was amazed at how friendly and welcoming everyone seemed to be. I was cautiously optimistic, really waiting for it to change.

It had been such a long time since I felt that warm, welcoming feeling that I had grown accustomed to cold distance. I am fairly confident that this isn't how you are supposed to feel in church, but it had become that way. I felt like I was opening myself up to those around me (in our old church) and not feeling much in return. My method of stepping out is to take a couple of steps forward and wait for the same to be done on the other side. Over time, we meet in the middle. I felt like I was walking across a never-ending chasm. That no matter how many steps I took, I would never reach the other side.

Since we started attending St. Paul's, I have felt such a renewed lease on belonging. I have begun to believe that the welcoming nature of the people in this church is at their heart, not just how it will be in the beginning. A couple of weeks ago, I decided to ask for a nametag to be made. St. Paul's does this so that people can get to know one another. For me, making this small decision was the first step on a journey to be a part of something. I feel like a piece of the whole. In a world where most people fight to stand out, I simply want to fit in. And at St. Paul's, I do.

Even without that nametag, I have never felt more welcome. People I have never met before greet me weekly like I am an old friend. My son has been cuddled and coddled and has been more open than I have ever seen him.

Each week, I feel more and more like this was the right decision for us. I know that this is just a small, small step on a much longer journey. I am enjoying journey and following the road before me.

I can't wait to see where it leads.

Farewell

2010-11-30T18:56:00.000-06:00

Kwaheri! Au Revoir! Auf Wiedersehen! Slán Leat! A Hui Hou!

Regardless of how you say it, I am not happy to be saying goodbye.

For the last few weeks, I have been doing run through weigh-ins. I run in, get on the scale, call it to the nurse, and she then marks it in my chart. I haven't actually set eyes on Dr. B in over a month. This past weekend, I learned why.

While straightening up the living room in preparation for putting up the tree, I found a letter hiding amongst the coupons still to be reviewed and rejected as needed. The letter was from Dr. B. It was simple. She has left the medical clinic where she was practicing. The second page was a list of referrals.

I was stunned. I had finally found a doctor who not only supported me in my desire to change my life, but who really worked to make sure I stayed on track. I mean, the woman gave up her lunch so I could try something new for mine.

She also kept me from rationalizing. If I ate crap, I was going to feel like crap. If I ate the good stuff, I would feel good. She didn't let me use PCOS as an excuse to continue avoiding my weight issues. She called me to the mat and told me that the only way I would change was to stop with the bullshit and change.

Might seem like harsh words from a doctor, but they were a welcome respite from the doctors who have glossed over my weight issues in an effort to be fat-friendly. I don't need fat-friendly. I need someone to tell me like it is and keep me motivated to stick to it.

So, with a heavy heart, I go in search of a new doctor. Requirements: must be up front, friendly without trying to be my buddy, call it like you see it, and do NOT let me make excuses.

I will still stop by the clinic for my weigh-ins weekly. I might be disappointed by the loss of Dr. B, but I am not giving up. I am killing old habits and finding excuses was one of them. Dr. B might be one of the catalysts to the change, but I still have to do it on my own. No one else can make me eat what's right for me, stick to the plan, and keep my butt moving.

Nope. That's all me.

I will be eternally grateful for Dr. B. She was the first doctor who really helped me take a look at myself and make the change.

Farewell Dr. B. A la prochaine.

Four

2010-11-29T20:19:00.000-06:00

肆

४

ארבע

๔

Four.

Today, my son is four. And I am blessed, For four years, I have been gifted with this wonderful human being. I have been allowed to watch him grow, learn, and love.

Since Ziggy isn't to the point of asking for a birthday party as yet, we have decided to forgo that activity until he does. Instead, we continued the family tradition of birthday dinner. To make sure everyone could attend (well, all six of us anyway), we had dinner yesterday. Ziggy opened presents, which really consisted of two Pillow Pets...which he has been asking to get for about the last six months.

Since it was birthday time, Nana and I obliged. My son later said something to me that marks this transition from toddler to little boy more profound than anything else could have.

He told me he was thankful for his gifts.

This morning, the other man in my life (hubs) did what has to be the sweetest thing. Since Z had gotten his presents yesterday, he didn't have any for today. I had already planned a surprise trip for him, so I didn't think about it. To make sure he also got something on his actual birthday, Dad brought Z the balloon to the right and a Scooby Doo DVD. Having grown up with a single Mom and a father whom I haven't seen since I was ten, I am continually amazed by how thoughtful a good Dad can be.

As for today's surprise, that occurred after Z dutifully posed for his four-year-old pictures this morning.

A few weeks ago, my mother had brought me some coupons. In that stack of coupons was one for Chuck E. Cheese tokens. So, we went. 160 tokens, 2.5 hours, countless helicopter rides, three photos, 430 tickets, and several prizes bought with said tickets later, we headed home. We played, we laughed, and we spent that time just being together.

Four years ago, I walked into a hospital full of anticipation, fear, trepidation. Soon, a doctor was going to bring my son into this world and give him into my safekeeping. Such a daunting task. For the previous 42 weeks (he wasn't in any hurry), he had been cuddled: safe, warm. Not a care. Not a worry. No concerns from me about how I would make sure this little creature never had those cares or worries.

Four years later, there are sometimes cares. There are sometimes worries. I make mistakes. I learn from them, and I move on.

But, more importantly, there is love. There is laughter. There are moments when I wonder how I was chosen for this task. I wonder what I did to be so worthy of the gift that is my son. No longer a toddler, he is now and will always be my little boy.

And that makes me the luckiest Mom on the planet.

Anticipation

2010-11-27T19:28:00.000-06:00

I will be the first to tell you that while it's okay, Christmas is not my favorite holiday (truth be told, it's St. Patrick's Day, but that is another post). Since my birthday is just a few days before, I grew up being overshadowed by this holiday.

As I got older, it really stopped mattering that my birthday got forgotten in the craziness that ensues with the hustle and bustle of the season. However, the season still didn't come to mean much more to me than the motions: cooking, eating, shopping, visiting family, practicing for Christmas programs, etc. In going through the motions, the meaning was lost for me. I spent so much time trying to cram everything in that I felt like I don't get to enjoy it all. I normally end the holiday season exhausted, wondering where all of the time went.

This year, it's a little different. Since I left the previous church, practicing for a Christmas program is off the list. Most of the gift buying and financial stress of the season is gone because we have minimized our Christmas shopping as a family agreement. And so, the season is slower for me. This opens the opportunity for a change in the way I see it.

About a month ago, the boy and I started attending St. Paul's Episcopal Church. I have talked about how welcoming and wonderful the church has been. I even requested that a name tag be made for me, signifying that I plan on staying. In the Episcopal church, the time leading up to Christmas is known as Advent. Advent is Latin for "coming or arrival." It is a season of anticipation and preparation for the arrival of Jesus Christ.

As a family, we are starting a new tradition this year: the Advent Calendar. As I research everything, I researched the "right" way to do this. Essentially, there isn't one. There also isn't a wrong way to do it. As with most everything in the Episcopal church, it is all about finding your own way. Among their combined Christmas Decorations, my mom and her fiancé found the Advent calendar to the right. I had actually started to make my own, of which they were aware, and offered that one to us. Answer? Yes, please!

For our family, I have put a Bible passage on a card for each day. I have also included a small goodie for Z on each day. The plan? Each night, we will dig into that day's pocket and see what surprises await us.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I am excited about the coming season. I am looking forward to learning more about Advent as the Sundays of the season progress. I am thrilled about starting a new family tradition. And I am anticipating the coming days. I cannot wait to see how the season unfolds and what it will bring to our family. No matter how it plays out, I know that it will be wonderful.

Although, I am a little concerned about the lack of Christmas Carols...

Halfway

2010-11-22T22:59:00.000-06:00

Over the weekend, I gave in to my curiosity and stepped on my bathroom scale. I have tried to wait two weeks between weigh-ins, simply due to the time factor. I have been focusing on watching what I eat and trying to walk as much on breaks as possible.

It has apparently paid off. I weighed at home this weekend and again this morning (for the "official" weigh in). And in both cases, I am down 25 pounds!!

This did, of course, lead to a celebratory break in the meal plan. I didn't go crazy. I didn't eat an entire week's worth of carbs in one meal (which is possible, in case you were wondering). I didn't overload on cheesecake, eggrolls, chicken and broccoli with white rice, or anything of the like.

Instead, I took the limited (?) time opportunity to partake in one of my favorite fast food items...the McRib. I worked at the Big M in high school during McRib's last national run, and I am no stranger to this paragon of yumminess. Touted as a boneless rib patty, anyone who eats it is not fooled. It really is chopped, pressed, and formed pork. And for anyone who loves it, we don't care. After cooking on the grill, it is then soaked in sweet barbecue sauce, nestled on a bun with pickles and onions. Having never been a fan of the sliced onions (oddly enough, I have always preferred the reconstituted onions reserved for their regular burgers), I order it with no onions, extra pickles.

As a tip for the other McRib lovers, I would like to point out that its last nationwide run was 16 years ago (when I was cooking them) and it is only around for four weeks. So, eat up!!

I, however, enjoyed my McRib and am back on track. It was a nice treat, but its purpose was to serve as an incentive not a roadblock. It was meant to break up the monotony that sometimes finds its way into the day in and day out eating on the meal plan.

Today, I am back on the meal plan. I am now looking to the next stop on the journey, 50 pounds gone. Sadly, I will have to figure out a new treat for the 50 pound mark.

I wonder where I can get a really good slice of turtle cheesecake...

The Call

2010-11-18T23:45:00.000-06:00

As I have previously mentioned. Z and I have gone to St. Paul's Episcopal Church the past couple of weeks. As with all churches, St. Paul's requested that it's visitors fill out a little card and put it in the offering plate when it passes by.

First week, I was again caught up in "what-if-I-insult-someone-by-making-a-mistake" mode that I forgot to fill it out. So, week two, I dropped it in.

I have visited other churches before, and the process to which I have become accustomed is for a member of the congregation to either call, send a letter, or stop by my house. It's perfectly fine, very standard, so not a big deal.

Earlier this afternoon, my cell phone rang. A little tied up with a customer issue, I let it go to voice mail. Imagine my surprise a little while later when I checked the message and heard the warm and friendly voice of Father Polk Van Zandt, the rector of St. Paul's. It was such a pleasant surprise. I know church leaders are busy, so I understand why congregation members serve as the ones who reach out. To have a church where the minister personally calls those who come to visit it such an amazing thing to me.

Father Polk, whom I did not get a chance to meet officially on Sunday due to a hungry child, is fantastic! He is so very nice, was willing to answer any and all of my questions, and made sure that we had felt welcome in the services. I assured him we did and mentioned how wonderful Ione had been to Z and me. As I was speaking to him, he asked about our family's church background. I gave him the denomination background and decided to go for what we have come to call in our family the "deal breaker."

Okay, I am going to be very transparent here. I am cynical. I have trust issues, and I know that. It stems from learning that people I once trusted are not as okay with my marriage as they initially say they are. Because of work, hubs doesn't normally get to attend church with me. It became easy for people to simply forget about the fact that my husband is African. However, all we have to do to remind them is show up together and the tension is palpable.

And so, when I was discussing my decision to seek another church, I told Father Polk it was due in part to wanting to ensure my son grew up feeling like he belonged. To note, the other church didn't single him out, but my experience has been that the attitude towards the parents will eventually land on the child (or children). I simply refuse to allow that to happen to him. I told Father Polk about our biracial, multicultural family. This is normally where a pause occurs and then I get a canned answer that it doesn't matter when it clearly does.

Not today. There was no pause. No hesitation. I got a "it doesn't matter, we are all children of God." And it was a heartfelt, honest response. That never happens. That is not the reaction to which I have become accustomed.

But it's nice. Welcome even. It is the reaction I always expect and am always disappointed when I don't receive it. Because, deep down, even though I anticipate the rejection, I always hope for the acceptance. I always pray that we will be welcomed warmly and that it truly won't matter that my family is different.

Today, we were. And it didn't.

The Body of Christ

2010-11-16T00:31:00.000-06:00

For anyone who has been to a Baptist church in recent years, well, ever actually, you are very aware of the frequency of the Lord's Supper (rarely called communion). It doesn't happen more than four or five times a year. Normally, you can count on the Lord's Supper once per quarter to be relegated to a Sunday evening service. Now, I point this out not to be critical of the practice. I am simply relaying it in order to draw a comparison later.

For the last two Sundays, Z and I have been visitors at St. Paul's Episcopal Church here in the Boro. At St. Paul's, Holy Eucharist (Communion) is observed every Sunday and Wednesday. In my desire to learn more about the Episcopal faith, I found a most wonderful reason for the frequency (beyond tradition, that is):

"God's saving act, reconciling the world to Himself, is so important and yet so hard to internalize that it bears repeating."

There is also the matter of wine versus grape juice. I know the reasoning from the Baptist side. The fruit of the vine is interpreted literally. As in, it came off the vine, went into a cup. No time for fermentation. Since I am not well versed in the Episcopal faith, I am going to take it at face value that the word wine in the Bible translates literally to wine. It is pretty much semantics for me, as I think it is important to focus on the symbolism over the contents of the cup.

Reality or not, there was always an idea for me that I couldn't participate in the Lord's Supper in a Baptist church unless I was a member there. St. Paul's makes it very clear that if you have been baptized in any faith, you are welcome to take communion. So, on Michael's recommendation, I took communion the first week. I am so glad he suggested it, and so glad I listened.

I am going to give you my personal take on communion. Even with its prior infrequency, the act of observing the Lord's Supper has always been a moving experience for me. I wish I could adequately express how taking of the bread and wine (juice, whatever) transports me to those moments before the betrayal and the ultimate sacrifice provided for insignificant me. To a time when a man destined for greatness was trying to tell his best Earthly friends that his time with them was growing to an end. Teaching them to create a ceremony that would allow them to remember those last glimpses of his greatness before he left to be seated at the right hand of the Father.

The first Sunday at St. Paul's, I was so afraid of making a misstep that I missed the preparation of the Eucharist. This week, I didn't feel quite so nervous. After having been so welcomed among strangers, I truly felt that no one would laugh if I happened to make a mistake. And so, this left me freer to watch the process.

There is such...beauty in the preparation. Instead of following along with the words, I watched Father Colin as he spoke them and prepared to provide these gifts to us. At the pinnacle of preparation, he lifted a communion wafer, larger than those to be provided to the congregation, announced "The Body of Christ," and broke it in half.

I can still feel the chills that ran down my spine and hear the echo in the silence that followed.

When it was time to go forward, I didn't hesitate. I didn't feel odd, I didn't feel out of place

I felt blessed.

Like A Weed

2010-11-13T23:08:00.000-06:00

"At 3 years and 11 months:

your child is 36 pounds, and that is in the 54th percentile for weight.

your child is 42 inches, and that is in the 84th percentile for height."

In just over two weeks, Ziggy will turn four. I am NOT ready. I know it really doesn't matter if I am, it's going to happen. Today, on a shopping trip for new Sunday morning clothes, I realized that my toddler is on the cusp of becoming my little boy.

And I wanted to cry. (Still do, truth be told).

That 84th percentile in height means that Ziggy has to wear a size larger in pants to make sure they are long enough. While an almost-4-year-old is "supposed" to wear a 4T, Ziggy has to have a 5T. When I wandered into the toddler section of a store today, I was hit with a stark realization. The clothes for children carried by this store stop at a 4T. This means that I had to look for clothes in the little boys' section. In an instant, my toddler ceased to be my toddler.

As I perused the little boys' section, the last five years of my life replayed. I still remember the day I discovered I was pregnant. This discovery followed nearly five years of tests, medication, mood swings, migraines, saying goodbye to my first son, and more negative pregnancy tests than I care to remember.

My mind flashed through first nights with no sleep, months of teething, numerous ear infections, tubes, testing, and allergy shots. I remembered crawling, toddling, walking, running, jumping, playing. And giggles...smiles...hugs...kisses...cuddles...and hearing my little boy tell me he loved me for the first time.

While I would love for time to slow down, I wouldn't trade one minute of the last (almost) four years. I would not give back one moment of time I have been gifted with him or trade any of it for all the riches of the world. And I won't worry about stores that do not allow me to stay in the toddler section just a little while longer, clinging to the last precious moments of toddlerhood.

I will just shop at the ones that do.

Secret Garden

2010-11-07T22:47:00.000-06:00

I have spent my entire Christian life in one Baptist church or another. They have ranged from the ultra-conservative Missionary Baptist of my grandfather to the sort-of contemporary Baptist church of my teen years. For the last several years, I have attended one more out of habit than any particular connection to that denomination.

I decided a few months ago that some habits need to be broken. So, on the suggestion of my BFF and with the support of new friends I have met through her, I took my son to St. Paul's Episcopal Church this morning.

The usher (female, I will get to why that is important later) handed me the bulletin, which had the entire service. She greeted my son, which many adults fail to do. When she asked if I knew where to go, I told her it was our first visit. Her response? GREAT!

She then introduced me to Ione. Ione would be my guide through service today. Ione asked about my family, background, etc. Not only did she show me around, she gave me great insights into the Episcopal way of worship. She reasserted what the church believes. She told me that there should be no worries about making a mistake. It's not about perfection, it's about worship.

Ione took Z and me to see the nursery (just in case) and Z was hooked as soon as Nick (the nursery worker) showed him the trains. I initially had no intention of leaving Z there. However, I found myself kissing him goodbye with a pager in my hand. Ione also sat with me through the service, guiding me from start to finish. She, along with other members of the congregation, were so warm, friendly, and inviting.

Today was All Saints' Day. It is set aside to honor all of the named and unnamed saints. I will leave it at that, since I have already mentioned that I am NO expert on the subject. What I can tell you is that the service itself is the epitome of beauty. The sermon, delivered by the youth minister, was about how important it is to come as you are and come in love for Christ. He spoke of his Great-Grandmother, led to Christ by a neighbor friend, who wasn't perfect. She didn't know how to worship, didn't realize the alter is for kneeling and not sitting, had never been to church. But she came to church with an open heart, leading to a life serving Him. Her son became a minister, his son became a minister, and his son (the youth minister) followed as well.

At no point did I feel out of place, awkward, or unwanted. Following sage advice from Michael, I took communion. I know I wouldn't have done it if I felt even mildly out of place, and I didn't. These people, who had never met me, welcomed me warmly and greeted me openly.

The feminist in me was also singing during this service. A woman is the music minister. Women served as ushers. Young women served as acolytes. A woman read the scripture during the service. This might seem trivial to some, but when you come from a background where women are limited to singing, playing piano, and working with the children's ministry, it is amazing to see woman in places of prominence during worship.

The only "down" side I can point out is that hubs and I would be the only interracial couple in the church. But, you know what, I don't think we would even notice. My son, who is clearly biracial, was welcomed by everyone, even those of older generations who snub us when they see my family. Not at this church. No snubbing. No ignoring. Just genuine care and concern.

And speaking of Z. The most amazing thing happened. My son is VERY introverted. It takes weeks or months for him to get to the point where he will even make that noise at the back of his throat in the affirmative or negative when asked a question. Today, when I went to get him from the nursery, Nick was asking him questions about a piece of plastic fruit. Benign, I know. But the amazing thing is that Z answered. Not just vague noises. Words. Full sentences. Speaking. For any parent whose child is painfully shy, you know this just never happens.

While I do have some questions about the Episcopal faith as a whole, I will be going back. I want to learn so much more about these welcoming, beautiful people and their church. Maybe, after some time, it will become my church. I am excited to find out what the "Secret Garden" (thanks Michael) has to offer to me and my family.

If today is any indication, there are so many beautiful flowers to discover.

Small Victory

2010-11-06T22:43:00.002-05:00

For me, Fall brings a lot of what I love in life. The color-changing Bradford Pear trees that resemble flame The crunch of leaves as I walk through my yard. The crispness of the air when I step out my front door.

And Candy Corn.

That sugary, honey, tri-colored goodness that will send the consumer straight into sugar shock if he or she dares to ingest too many in a single sitting.

I have been a fan since I was a small child. Me being me, I take a lengthy amount of time eating them. I think it is a cross between the desire to savor them for as long as possible and the OCD in me that is overcome with anxiety when I contemplate eating anything in a color variety.

I will explain. I am obsessed with patterns: number, color, alphabetizing, chronology...you get the idea. Life became grand for me when the M&M Mars company began selling M&M's in single colors. I could then get each color in individual bags, thus satisfying my desire to follow the ROY G BIV of color-coding. Jelly Belly jelly beans? Thanks so much for selling variety packages with individual flavors separated. I appreciate you.

So that brings us to candy corn. As you can see, three colors. So, I start by eating the pointed ends, move on to the yellow tops, then eat the orange middle. Why? I couldn't tell you. It is my idiosyncrasy. I just go with it.

Today, I found myself faced with something that could have been disastrous for the meal plan. My local neighborhood Kroger supermarket was advertising ten bags of this tri-colored yumminess for the bargain price of $2.50. You read that correctly. Full size bags of temptation for only 25 cents per bag. Not the piddly little Brach's bags. I was caught in day-glo orange colored bags of carb-laden treats.

And I sent out an SOS text message. And the response, my voice of reason? She told me that I would regret it later.

And she is absolutely right. One, because I feel like I am getting back into my groove. I have been maintaining my 20 carb per day limit for the Atkins induction phase. I am feeling pretty good about Monday's weigh-in. Two, because the over abundance of sugar would have surely led to several days of feeling like absolute crap.

So, I walked on by, checked out, and took my Atkins-approved items home. I proceeded to make dinner (ham and cheese omelet), and I felt wonderful, both physically and mentally.

I needed help, I asked for help, I got help (thanks to Rachel), and I know I can do it. Temptation is there. It's not going away. But it's not worth it.

Not even for the bargain price of 25 cents.

Speed Bumps

2010-11-03T22:09:00.002-05:00

Today was weigh-in day. Yeah, well. I would love to say that I hit some magical goal, birds started singing, the sun started shining, blah blah blah.
Instead, it was very perfect that it has been cold, drizzly, and blech outside. The perfect day for staying in bed, pulling up the covers, and sleeping through it.

But rather than curl up with a good book and some hot tea, I went to face the scale. And today, the score stands as follows: Scale 1. Robin 0.

I am going to be very transparent and honest with myself and say that I have not been following the meal plan. I got off track with the wedding a couple of weeks ago, and I have had trouble getting back into the groove. I started a new work schedule around the same time, and I haven't worked to find my flow.

So, what's a girl to do? Why, text her BFF for a much needed perspective.

Me: So, I weighed in this morning *sigh* one step back...

Her: Don't look at it as a step back, just another step on your weight loss journey. You are learning a whole new way to live, it takes time and patience. You're doing great. A step back would be quitting altogether. This is just a bumpy stretch. You'll get through it and be better for it.

And with those words, she shows again how amazing she is. I am continually thinking that I have to be strong enough to do this on my own. This time, I have to reach out. I understand that no one can make me eat well, exercise, and stay on the path. But I also understand that without the support, I WILL fail.

And failure just isn't an option.

So, I WILL get back to the plan. I WILL exercise daily. And I WILL reach out when I need a reminder that I can do this.

Because I CAN. And I WILL.

Riding the Fence

2010-11-01T22:49:00.000-05:00

Recently, someone posted scathing remarks about my Facebook profile. Said profile states the following:

Political Views: Liberal
Religious Views: Saved by a gift freely given, because Heaven knows I could never earn it!

Apparently, he disagrees. According to him, claiming to be liberal automatically means that I must completely follow the Liberal agenda. Really? According to the dictionary, being liberal means to be "open-minded or tolerant, especially free of or not bound by traditional or conventional ideas, values, etc." By claiming Christianity and a liberal point of view, I am now riding the fence. I must choose the right or the left. Too bad I am actually ambidextrous. Maybe I should go make the "l" lowercase, because having it capitalized must mean that I am praying for the downfall of our entire social system.

It apparently doesn't mean that I believe that Christ loved us all and set the example by making salvation open to EVERYONE. It doesn't mean that I believe every person should be loved as a person. It apparently also means that I have to pick.

And to that, I say why? I don't believe having a liberal way of thinking and being a Christian are mutually exclusive. I am perfectly fine being a blend of both. As a matter of fact, I relish it. It is for this reason (among others) that I am currently a Christian without a church home. After spending several years being quiet and uncomfortable in my previous church, I made the decision to leave. I had grown tired of feeling like an unwelcome visitor in the church where I was actually a member. I did not want my child growing up feeling like he was less of a person based on his family or his race. I want him to be loved and cherished, welcomed and wanted.

So, the search is on. My first visit will be to St. Paul's Episcopal Church here in the Boro. Now why would I, a lifelong Baptist, choose the Episcopal Church? Well, first of all, based on a recommendation from Rachel. With that recommendation came research (again, lifelong Baptist...and research-minded individual). With that research came the statement from the Episcopal Church's website:

"The Episcopal Church strives to live by the message of Christ, in which there are no outcasts and all are welcome."

Hmmm...no outcasts? ALL are welcome? Not bound by traditional or conventional ideas? A church that is both liberal AND worships Christ?

A church that is, like me, "riding the fence?"

The Wagon

2010-10-24T21:26:00.001-05:00

Friday was Biometrics day. My company offered free screenings for diabetes, cholesterol, weight, height, and BMI. Although I had all of this done a few months ago, I figured I'd take advantage of The Company paying to make sure I was still on the right track. I also want to see if the change in what I eat has impacted my cholesterol in any way (less carbs, more protein...could be bad).

Obviously these things weren't my concern. My concern was the weight. I hadn't weighed in eighteen days, and I hadn't exactly been sticking close to the meal plan. The wedding was during this time. There was food, drink, merriment...and while I tried to keep the non-food plan food and drink to a minimum, there was tea and Elijah's loaded mashed potatoes...not to mention Copper Ridge White Zin. I tried to balance the eating with exercise as a way to minimize the damage.

So, with slight trepidation, I stepped on the scale.

And was pleasantly surprised. I was hoping for at least no major gains. Instead, I had lost another almost two pounds. Now, two pounds in eighteen days isn't fantastic, I will give you that. But, I also didn't gain anything in that time. I ended lower than I had started before.

And, even better, I was able to get back on track after being off my routine. I might have hopped off the wagon, but I was able to hop back onto the next one. I didn't let it run me over.

This next week, I will be searching for low-carb recipes to bring some life to the meal plan. I want to stay on track and canned tuna and salmon are not really helping me do that. I have become bored recently, so it is time to inject some life into the meal plan. If I am bored, I am NOT going to stick to it.

Thankfully, there are tons of low-carb recipes available. I also updated the ticker with my end of year goal. I think having the shorter goal will help make it feel more attainable. I have eight weeks to lose 27.4 pounds. It is entirely doable. This week's focus will be exercise and experimentation. I am looking for meals to keep me engaged with the plan, so that is the challenge for this week.

We'll see how it goes.

Beautiful Spirit

2010-10-20T21:57:00.000-05:00

I have wanted to post some version of this blog for quite some time. When it goes through my head, I battle with how I want to word it, how I want it to sound, and my own emotions. I have started and erased this blog post more times than I can count.

So, what's different today? Today I have seen so many people display their support through posts, pictures, clothing, and accessories. I have seen many refuse to stand idly by as others are bullied to the point that they think ending their lives is the only option they have. I have watched them display their solidarity in varied shades of purple. Brilliant and bold. Brave and beautiful.

Today, on Spirit Day, I finally found the words I have been longing to say. And not all of them are mine.

My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. John 15:12

Hatred stirs up dissension, but love covers all wrongs. Proverbs 10:12

I love people. I have always loved people. I have already mentioned my perpetually perky state. Along with that goes a genuine caring about the well-being of my fellow human beings. Color, class, creed, gender, sexual orientation, etc: none of those things have any bearing on who I care for or about. If I take offense from a person, it is going to be solely based on the way that person and I interact (the reality is there is no one who gets along with everyone). As a Christian, I take God's charge to love one another very seriously.

For a long time, I felt like I had to hide many of my personal feelings. I felt stifled by those who use the Bible to support hate and judgment. God is a God of love, not hate. He calls upon us to care for one another, not to tear each other down. Once, I thought that there was no one to support what seemed to be the contradiction between being a Christian and being open-minded. I felt alone in my desire to really drive those around me to Christian caring without judgement. I don't feel that way so much any more.

I have been blessed to meet so many who stand strong together to exhibit the love that should be the example. Many who join with me in teaching our children that #loveislove. Those who are brave enough to love in the face of ridicule and judgement. These beautiful people with their beautiful spirits who wore splashes of purple to remind others that we care. Those who share in my belief that enduring love comes in all sorts of shapes, sizes, and varieties.

Because in the end, the LOVE is the important part.

Tea Time

2010-10-19T22:50:00.000-05:00

When I think of tea, I have two warring images. The first is a tall glass, ice cubes, and golden nectar heavy on the sugar. The second image is of finely dressed women with elbow length gloves sipping from fine bone china cups with pinkies extended. So, when I was invited to tea with my soon-to-be newlywed best friend, her then-fiance (now husband, her mom, and her stepdad, I was a little concerned about making a fool of myself. The reason? This was not to be the cool, tall glass version. We were having sort-of formal tea. And I had NO idea what that would entail.

But, I am by nature curious and adventurous. While this wouldn't really fulfill that adventurous component (it wasn't extreme tea, after all), it fit quite nicely into the curious part.

Tea was to take place at the Wilmington Tea Room, situated on the Riverfront in Downtown Wilmington, NC. While I was initially expecting a shopping trip would be needed to find appropriate attire for the tea, I was told jeans would be fine. Hmmm...that certainly changed my first idea of stodgy boring tea. The second thing to break down that image? The interior of the tea house.

If you are looking for boring and sedate, then bright purple is probably not the best choice for wall coloring. Of course, that is the first hint that tea at the Wilmington Tea Room is going to be amazing! The second? The menu. There are SO many fantastic choices of tea, sandwiches, desserts, soup, salads...you name it!

The other hint that this would not be quite what I expected? None of the china matched. At our table, there were eight place settings. Eight different place settings. All of the cups and saucers matched, but they didn't match the plates below them, nor did they match the other settings on the table. My first reaction when looking around was that it was an OCD-sufferer's nightmare. So, it was MY nightmare. I was earlier than the rest of my group, so I started mentally rearranging the plates, cups, and saucers from other tables. I can't help it. Patterns are my nemesis. Any disruption in that and my brain begins to focus on putting the patterns to rights. Once we got started with tea, all of that went rearranging out the window. As I relaxed into the experience, the hodge-podge, quirky mix became endearing and homey.

We all had different kinds of tea to drink. The choosing was probably the hardest part of the experience. I love tea of all kinds: herbal, black, green, white, you name it. At the tea house, you have a choice of at least thirty-six different teas (although our list was longer due to seasonal additions). I love its warmth and all of the flavors that comprise a fantastic tea blend. In the end, I settled on Vanilla Creme.

What we had in common was the food: full tea all around. With a choice of soup or salad, I went with this creamy, wonderful, Seafood Bisque. Probably not the best meal plan choice but I am sure completely forgivable as this was the only meal I ate that day (also probably a bad idea). Also to be found in full tea were scones (berry and plain) with strawberry jam and Devonshire cream. Layer two? Yummy little puffs with cucumber and dill, others with tomato, small ham and cheese sandwiches on cinnamon raisin bread (a little strange, that), and some delicious chicken salad with craisins on marble rye. Top of the stack was dessert: choices between mini carrot cakes with cream cheese icing (this is the only one I ate and learned I adore carrot cake), a coconut macaroon, a chocolate dipped strawberry, and the house specialty Gooey Bar (fudge square with chocolate chip cookie dough on top and bottom).

In the end, this was one of the most amazing experiences I have had in quite some time. I committed no major faux pas and had such a wonderful time. The staff was fantastic, and the food and tea were superb as well. If you are ever visiting Wilmington, I strongly recommend a stop by the tea room. Make sure you have plenty of time to sit, eat, chat, and simply take in the surroundings. You can also sit at tables out on the deck and take in the view.

It is one that I will not soon forget.

The Joy of Cooking

2010-10-18T17:06:00.003-05:00

I love to watch cooking shows, and I am a huge fan of Food Network. Food is like art to me. The beauty in its simplicity or complexity (whichever applies) is something that draws me. I love to watch the creation. I love the image of a beautifully constructed project.

With art, I can only create it through the lens of a camera. I couldn't draw a straight line if my life depended on it. And anything "abstract" looks like it could easily be made by my three-year-old.

With food, its creation can only be accomplished by me with the use of a menu. I am, sadly, culinarily-challenged.

When I was growing up, the emphasis was on what was quick and easy. My amazing mother was providing for two growing children on her own, so anything we made had to be inexpensive, easy to make, and even faster to complete. We were never hungry, and I learned early that my mom was working hard to take care of us.

As I got older, I can only blame myself. I still love food, I just never really got into preparing it beyond what I knew. I stuck with the quick and easy. Until lately.

I have suddenly developed this overwhelming desire to branch out. I think it is due in part to the new meal plan and the increasing boredom that I am experiencing. I am afraid that if I don't inject something new, I might just fall off of the plan. Eating fish repeatedly is not keeping me interested in staying on task with this food.

Additionally, the constant images created by CanonChefTom and bluebelleinbg are inspiring. I have to point out that there is NO way that I will ever be able to create most of those dishes (spaghettios are an exception). And that is perfectly fine. Everyone has to start somewhere.

My first experiment was beef stew. I went in search of a recipe that would stick to my simple requirement but still allow me to stretch my wings a little. Traditional beef stew contains carrots and potatoes, and this one was no different. However, both of those items are definitely off-limits for the meal plan. The solution? Eat around them. I did splurge on the organic honey wheat low-carb bread but after 9 weeks of carb deficient food, I figured I was due a reward.

It was during this experiment that I discovered something: I LOVE cooking. While it took longer than my normal 20 minute meal, I found that I enjoyed the peeling, cutting, the creation. The smells from my kitchen were warm and comforting. And I made them happen. I cannot even begin to describe the feeling of accomplishment over something so simple. It was empowering.

So, I decided to try again. I have for some time been enthralled with the spaghetti squash. I love pasta, but I have to abstain due to the meal plan. I have contemplated the possibility of substituting something for the noodles for some time, but I really couldn't figure out what. And then I saw the spaghetti squash at the grocery. I had no idea what would happen or how to cook this thing, but I was feeling adventurous. I did a little research to find out how to actually prepare it and learned it could be the perfect partner for my standard spaghetti sauce with turkey meatballs.

And that is what I did. I don't think I cooked the squash long enough. It ended up being a little on the crunchy side. I was too afraid of making spaghetti squash mush, so I cooked it until it came out of the skin easily. While the texture was a little off from what my brain was expecting, the outcome was delicious! Paired with my favorite broccoli salad, I came out with way fewer carbs than I would have if I had broken down and had actual pasta. Add to it another feeling of cooking accomplishment, and it was totally worth the substitution!

And last, but certainly not least (or truly last), I decided to stretch my taste buds (and skills) and venture into the world of Tom's celery root soup that had been much touted by Rachel. This one was a little harder for me (and hard to find, it took four stores to find the main ingredient - the celery root itself). I had to force myself to be patient, as this one took some major time. I didn't want to rush the process and the payoff was worth it. I left it a little thicker than planned, as it will be reheated today and more stock added to thin it out. I also now own an immersion blender, meaning the first time won't be the last. I didn't eat the soup until tonight. I initially tried it on its own, and it was a little on the sweet side for me. So, I took the advice in the recipe optionals and added sour cream to cut the sweetness a little. One word: divine. The taste matched the smell that had overtaken my house last night.

I can say with a great deal of certainty that this would never be my career. I still need to work on patience and realizing that some of the best rewards come to those who wait. But I do know that there is joy in the process.

And satisfaction in the results.

Bluegrass (Part 2)

2010-10-04T19:56:00.000-05:00

When I was in high school, I worked at the Big M of fast food. I also had a teacher whose belief it was that I would spend the rest of my life doing just that. One day, he asked the class how we would pronounce the capitol of Kentucky. "Do you say 'Looeyville, Loolvul, or Lewisville?' " When he got to me, I politely answered "None of the above. I say 'Frankfort'."

He wasn't amused.

There is just no pleasing some people.

But, I was correct. And the capitol of Kentucky, Frankfort, is located in the Bluegrass region.

Visitors of Frankfort are welcome to visit the capitol building. The highlight of the tour is actually the grounds that surround the building. Immaculately kept, the gardens are home to beautiful landscaping that includes a clock designed out of flowers. For understandable reasons, tours inside the building are guided only and do end fairly early in the day (3:30 pm).

For the history buff, the region is home to Fort Boonesborough. When Daniel Boone and company arrived on the Kentucky River in 1775, they created this second permanent settlement in Kentucky. Today, skilled artisans keep the fort running to give visitors an idea of what life would have been like in the 18th century. A newer addition, The Kentucky River Museum, is also here and tells the story of how commerce was developed on the river.

Henry Clay's home, Ashland, is also open to the public and is located in Lexington. Guided tours are provided through the 18-room mansion. There are also outbuildings (self-guided), as well as a permanent exhibit on Clay's life, a garden and walking trails, and a cafe (open seasonally).

Finally (for purposes of this blog, anyway) there is Duncan Tavern. Located in bluebelleinbg's hometown of Paris (say hello to her while you are there), this tavern was a popular gathering place for pioneers in the area. Currently, it is home to the Kentucky chapter of the Daughters of the Revolution.

I have it on good authority that a trip to Lexington should also mean a trip to Columbia's Steakhouse. As the name suggests, Columbia's offers steaks, as well as chicken and seafood. However, the restaurant's real claim to fame is its focus on the traditional fare of Kentucky (such as the hot brown pictured to the right...thanks managerflo for the visual). I have also been told that the other must haves are as follows: the Nighthawk Special, Flo's Sweet Potato Casserole, and the Corn Pudding.

Another area specialty that CANNOT be missed while in the Bluegrass region is Ale8One ("a late one"). This soft drink has been bottled since 1926 and was named based on one of America's first "name-the-product" contest. I remember many nights in the dorms at LWC enjoying this favorite "smuggled" into our room by bluebelleinbg.

While I don't remember this other local favorite ever being brought to the hallowed walkways of Lily Hall, I have been educated that it is another "not-to-be-missed" item while in the Bluegrass region. Mingua Brothers beef jerky is handmade in Paris and available at multiple locations throughout the Bluegrass. As I am a long-time connoisseur of all things dried meat, I am a little disappointed that there are no stores that stock it closer to me. Of course...there is always online ordering, the great equalizer.

The Bluegrass region is also home to three of the stops on the Kentucky Bourbon Trail. Four Roses, Wild Turkey, and Woodford Reserve distilleries are all located in this region. All three offer tours and tastings. Four Roses and Wild Turkey tours are free. Woodford Reserve, the oldest distillery in Kentucky, offers tours for $5 for those over 18. A more extensive tour option is also available for a mere $10.

It is essential to point out that this is no way begins to scratch the surface of the Bluegrass region. I have to thank bluebelleinbg, MJansenMiller, CanonChefTom, thommarshall, and managerflo for providing ideas and visuals. More importantly, thank you for sharing your home with me.

If there is one region that pulls me towards it outside of my own, it is the Bluegrass region. It is home to my dearest friend and the new ones I have met through her. The life and love of this region is evident in the fondness that they each expressed for what they love that is there.

It is with a heavy heart that I move on, in blog only. But the farewell will not be for long. I plan to physically visit this wonderful region in the very near future.

Bluegrass

2010-10-03T18:41:00.000-05:00

When I started this journey, there were two regions that drew my attention most. First, there was my own Caves, Lakes, & Corvettes region. It required two parts to detail stops in the region that inspire me, and I probably could have moved into a third.

The second region is the Bluegrass region. It is home to most of the blog writers that I follow (if not all, actually). It is also home to one of the most brave and beautiful women I have ever had the pleasure to know, bluebelleinbg. She is a wonderful person, and I count myself blessed to be able to call her friend. She also provided much of the list for the trip through the bluegrass region.

Since the region is most famously known for horse farms, I thought I would use day one of our visit here to focus on all things equine.
One of the most unique of these farms is the Kentucky Horse Park. At its base, the park is an operating horse farm. Home to fifty different breeds, visitors can take tours through the park and identify these regal animals. These tours detail the proud racing history that is ingrained in Kentucky's heritage. The park is also home to two museums that house trophies, horse-themed artwork, and a detailed history of the Saddlebred, Kentucky's first native horse breed.

Currently, the Kentucky Horse Park is playing host to the 2010 World Equestrian Games. The games are the national championships for eight equestrian sports: dressage, driving, endurance, eventing, jumping, para dressage, reining, and vaulting. The games are held every four years (two years before the Olympics and in the same year as the FIFA World Cup).

In addition to the events, there is a Trade Show (where all things equine, and some not, can be purchased), an Equine Village (featuring opportunities for the industry to showcase itself), and even the Kentucky Experience (where visitors can learn about Kentucky without leaving the park). There are also other activities and entertainment available to see. You can find them all here.
(Special thanks to CanonChefTom and MJansenMiller for the pics)

While in Lexington, be sure to make a stop at Thoroughbred Park. You can take pictures with the bronze statues of horses racing as Thoroughbreds graze in the nearby pastures.

Lexington is also home to Thoroughbred Center. Tours are offered through the center, which offers visitors a glimpse into the daily life of a racehorse. Early morning tours also allow for the chance to see the horses being trained on one of two tracks at the facility. The Thoroughbred Center is owned by a local racing facility: Keeneland. Speaking of which...

For the avid horse-racing fan, a stop at Keeneland is a must. Although, it would be a shame to just leave racing as the idea of the only thing to do while there. Keeneland also offers visitors the opportunity to see morning exercises and a self-guided tour of the grounds. Stop at the track kitchen for breakfast, where you just might rub elbows with jockeys, trainers, or owners. Thoroughbred sales at Keeneland are also open to the public: just be careful lest you find yourself bidding millions on a future champion.

I have thoroughly enjoyed learning more about these majestic animals and what the Bluegrass region offers in terms of enjoying them and learning more about them.

As I previously mentioned, one day is not enough for this beautiful region. In an effort to assuage my OCD, I elected to separate details of the area into two specific parts: Day 1, all things equine; Day 2, all things not.

So tomorrow: all things not.

Kentucky's Derby Region

2010-10-01T12:31:00.000-05:00

This region of Kentucky is probably the most misnamed of the regions. Calling it the Derby Region seriously limits the beauty and wonder that awaits a visitor here. And, after all, the Derby Festival happens once a year, lasts only two weeks, and the actual race itself is just under two minutes.

A rather short length of time by which to label an entire region.

While I won't completely ignore the Derby and Festival, I do want to talk about some of the other wonderful things the region has to offer.

So, we will start with the Derby and Festival. The Festival is held for the two weeks preceding the actual race. There are contests, concerts, specialty meals, and so much more. The culmination of the Festival is the actual running of the race. The race is the first of the Triple Crown of Thoroughbred Horse Races (generally just called the Triple Crown). Side note: no horse has won all three races since 1978.

As previously mentioned, Abraham Lincoln was born in Kentucky. His birthplace, Hodgenville, is located in this region of Kentucky. This actual house is enshrined in the Memorial Building on the property. The site recently reopened after undergoing renovations to restore and preserve. Visitors can see the site where the Lincolns got the water they used on a daily basis. As a fun fact (no real purpose), Abraham Lincoln's last living relative passed away in 1985.

The Derby region is also home to several stops on the Kentucky Bourbon Trail. Bardstown, considered the bourbon capital of the world, is located in this region. Visitors can complete a "passport," which shows they have stopped at all six of the distilleries on the Trail. Doing so will gain the visitor a commemorative t-shirt. Of the six stops, only one has a very small admission fee. The others are free and all six offer tours and tastings.

While in Bardstown, you can visit Federal Hill. The mansion in this state park served as the inspiration for Kentucky's state song, "My Old Kentucky Home." Costumed guides will take you on tours through the house, transporting you back to antebellum South. While there, you can also see "Stephen Foster: The Musical," depicting the life of this amazing composer.

This musical is Kentucky's longest running outdoor drama. Stephen Foster Productions also offers two other shows: Floyd Collins and Footloose. Additionally, the company also has a Live at the Park concert series through the summer.

For the food-minded visitor to Louisville, the Hot Brown is a must-have. Created at the Brown Hotel in Louisville, this dish was born out of the need for a new menu item in a hurry. Like it enough to want to re-create it? The Brown Hotel's website offers the recipe!

Sports fans will find fun in Louisville as well. Louisville is the hometown of Muhammad Ali and is the location of the Muhammad Ali Center. The Center strives to move past simply being a museum. Visitors can take a tour through Ali's career and memorabilia. However, the exhibits are designed to relay Ali's story based on the six core values of his life. The hope is that inspiration will come to those who visit and they will strive to live lives of purpose through Ali's example.

Finally, no stop in Louisville would be complete for any baseball fan without a visit to the Louisville Slugger Museum & Factory: if for no other reason than to get a picture with a bat that is 120 feet tall. Visitors can also see bats being made, learn the history of the bat and see the evolution of the sport, and follow the walk of fame.

Most of my trips to Louisville have been for conferences, so I have not had much time to visit the city or what it has to offer. I plan to add stops in Louisville to my travels, to get a chance to experience what the city has available to visitors.

Over the next couple of days, I am going to spend time in the Bluegrass Region. This is home to some wonderful people I have met through my bff bluebelleinbg. I am as excited about writing of this region as I was about my own. I cannot wait to learn more about the region my friends call home!

Southern Lakes & Rivers

2010-09-29T12:58:00.000-05:00

When I entered my senior year of high school, I had every intention of leaving Bowling Green for Lexington and the University of Kentucky. As the first in my family to attend college, I didn't realize that it was important to start working towards scholarships and financial aide early in the year. And so, I found myself in the spring accepted to UK with little money to actually attend. Since I had completed most of my requirements for graduation early, I really had nothing better to do one day than to agree to go on a visit to a small private school located in the Southern Lakes & Rivers region of Kentucky.

It is this chance trip in the Spring of my senior year that would decide my future. That trip found me on the campus of Lindsey Wilson College. Five months later, I entered LWC as a Freshman, armed with plans to stay two years and transfer to UK to finish my plans. As Robert Burns once said, "the best laid plans of mice and men..." Four years later, I walked away with a degree in English, a husband, and a best friend. It is at LWC that I met bluebelleinbg. She is smart and brave and sometimes forgets how completely wonderful she is. Thankfully, as she is always reminding me the same, it is easy to point the mirror back to ensure that she sees. I also met Mr. Irishbookworm21 at LWC. I credit him with the salvation of my self-esteem. He loved me at a time when I didn't love myself very much. He has taught me that appearance doesn't equal beauty. Over a decade later and it still feels like yesterday. Blessed doesn't even begin to cover it.

For those visiting this region, LWC is home to a multi-time National Championship soccer team. The college is now also home to a football team, with this being their inaugural season. LWC is also home to the Lindsey Wilson Singers, a choral group that travels each Spring on a choral tour of a different region of the US. It was with this group that I was able to travel and see more of the US and the world than I would have been able otherwise.
And in the interest of fairness: the region is also home to Campbellsville University...LWC's longtime friendly rival.

For visitors, the region is also home to Green River Lake. While we were dating, picnics next to the lake were a common date for us. In the land of poor college students, it was about being together, not how much we had to spend to do it. Green River Lake is a beautiful place for camping, swimming, boating, and there are many limestone outcroppings that are perfect for simply being. It is the kind of place where you can sit in the silence and dream. Dream of the world, dream of life, dream of love, dream of the future. I didn't initially fall in love with my husband on these banks. I did learn more about him and grew to love him even more in the time we spent on the banks of this Lake,

Lake Cumberland is also located in the SLR region of Kentucky. Lake Cumberland offers more water sports, camping, and lodging on a beautiful lake. If you are looking for world-class, record-breaking fishing, then Lake Cumberland is the stop for you. There are also more opportunities to experience the beauty of nature in Kentucky,

Finally, this region is home to Mill Springs. This town is home to a Civil War battlefield, the National Cemetery, and the world's largest working water-wheel. Small towns dot this region. offering a glimpse into Kentucky small-town life and culture. There are also opportunities to walk the land of the past, steeped in the history of a battle during the war that changed the fabric of our country.

While this region isn't home, it does hold the memories of some of the best days of my life. Days awash with love and friendship, ups and downs, tragedies and triumphs.

Tomorrow, I move to a region for which Kentucky is famous: Kentucky's Derby Region.

Caves, Lakes, & Corvettes (Part 2)

2010-09-28T11:09:00.000-05:00

Nestled just northeast of Bowling Green on 1-65 lies Smiths Grove. This small, quiet town hides a treasure trove of goodies and a great deal of memories for me. I spent a great many days riding my bicycle or rollerskating along the sidewalks. I may have been born in Bowling Green, but Smiths Grove captured my heart.

Smiths Grove is a fantastic place for antique shopping. As a young child, I would pass the windows of the shops and think of all the junk lining the stores. As I got older, I began to look at that junk as treasure. I would create stories about who had owned a certain item. The Fenton lamp that once resided in the home of a wealthy duchess, the wagon that was lovingly cared for by a child, or the washboard that was used by a mother to prepare her children's clothes for school. There are several stores that house these treasures in Smiths Grove.

Smiths Grove is also home to the Victorian House Bed and Breakfast. I didn't really think about what the purpose of a B&B was when I was a child. This was just another one of my imaginary places. Once I read Great Expectations, the house had almost a menacing presence. I remember wondering if the house had its own Pip and Estella inside, with Miss Havisham still there in her wedding dress with the molding food on the table. In reality, the house has been restored and is considered the best B&B in Warren County.

Kentucky is also home to the Mammoth Cave system. It has certainly earned its name, as it is the longest cave system in the WORLD at 367 miles (591 km) in length - and that is just what has been mapped. It is three times longer than its closest competitor, a cave system in Russia that measures only 143 miles (230 km) long. Looking at pictures of the entrance every school child in my hometown entered in Cave City reminds me why I love this cave system.

I am claustrophobic. I will not even get on an elevator if there are too many people sardined in with me. I have been known to take 10-12 flights of stairs to avoid them. To get to Ruby Falls in Chattanooga, visitors must ride an elevator 260 feet down to the cave shaft. For me, it feels like a ride down into the bowels of the earth, from which I might never return. With Mammoth Cave, there are stairs. The descent into the caves is gradual, which allows for people like me to adjust to the hike through the cave. For me, that makes the wonders so much more enjoyable. I am able to see the formations and watch what the gradual dripping of water underground has created, as opposed to thinking the ceiling of the cave is slowly closing in on me.

Caves, Lakes, & Corvettes wouldn't be complete without mentioning the Lakes. Near Scottsville, you will find Barren River Lake, home to fishing, boating, and swimming. More childhood memories swap me as I think back on times spent on the banks of the Lake. It is one of the few lakes that I have swum in. Lazy summer days slide into quiet, breezy nights. Time becomes of no consequence as relaxation takes over and the worries of the world are washed away in the waves.

For those wishing to catch a glimpse of how life might have been a century ago, Scottsville is also home to a Mennonite community. The "plain people" are friendly and welcoming. Visitors can watch molasses being made and purchase fresh produce and handmade goods from the community.

I am so reluctant to leave this region. I miss home. My house may not be there, but my home is in Kentucky. This is the connection I was seeking, the reminder I needed of why there should be pride in my voice when I say I am FROM Kentucky. There is beauty in home, peace in home, love in home. And while the reluctance remains, it is time to say a "See You Later" to my home region. After all, it's home. It will never be good-bye.

The next stop is the Southern Lakes & Rivers, where I fell in love and found lifelong friendship.

Caves, Lakes, & Corvettes

2010-09-27T23:48:00.004-05:00

This is the region I know better than any other in Kentucky. And, there is a good reason for it: it is the region of my two hometowns, Bowling Green and Smiths Grove. I was born in Bowling Green, on Hospital Hill. After a brief two year stint in Tennesssee, we moved back to Kentucky and settled in Smiths Grove. Driving home always fills me with nostalgia. I am constantly reminiscing about what I remember seeing there and what has changed here. I am filled with both sadness and pride. Sadness for the changes and what I have missed. And pride for the progress made in my hometown.

For those not from Kentucky, Bowling Green is most famously known as the Home of the Corvette. Bowling Green is also home to the Corvette Museum. When you arrive at the exit where both the manufacturing plant and the museum are located, there is a corvette waiting to greet you (located in front of the plant). As an elementary school aged child, we were all given tours of the plant. I remember feeling awed by the size and machinery in the building. I was lucky enough to be part of a choir that was invited to sing Christmas Carols just after the museum opened. Part of the package was free admission to the museum. While I may not be a passionate car girl, I can appreciate the sleek lines and the barely leashed power under the hood of a corvette.

Bowling Green is also home to Lost River Cave. A couple of years ago, a close friend of mine got married at LRC. There is an area cleared in the grove of trees where chairs are set up for the ceremony. A ceremony here feels almost like a commune with nature. The area is beautiful and a small breeze through the trees feels like God is reaching out to bestow blessings on the new couple. The cave and river have quite the history: first used as shelter for Native Americans, then used for water by those milling in the area, next a hideout for Jesse James, and lastly a nightclub through the 60's. Now, a pavilion at the mouth of the cave serves as the perfect area for a reception. The natural formations created the perfect environment where lights and shadows speak of days gone by and mysteries to be discovered.

A great deal of my time in Bowling Green was spent at Western Kentucky University. All of the choir competitions held in our area were held at the top of the hill. When you are walking up it, "hill" is quite a misnomer. The only available parking always seemed to be at the bottom of the hill. Walking up that "hill" in heels and a formal choir gown is an experience that I will never forget. I will also never forget performing in the grand halls of the University. I did choose another path for school since I lived in the town my entire life. That, in itself, is its own tragedy. I was so quick to dismiss WKU as a school option. However, the tragedy is only in the discounting, not the choice that I did make. Had I not, I would have missed out on a wonderful friendship and a wonderful marriage. So, I have no regrets about the choice I made.

A trip to Bowling Green would not be complete without a trip to the Fountain Square. My fondest memory is of a trip to the Square to attend an International Festival with my now-husband. On that trip, we enjoyed food from around the world and came home with George. George is a wooden giraffe with hand-stretched leather covering him. As he was made of natural leather (not the processed, cleaned version), he was not pleasant smelling. Over time, that went away, and we are now left with a more than decade old reminder who has graced a shelf in my living room for the last six years of that.

I have it on good authority that a trip around the square also requires a stop at Verdi. The restaurant specializes in food with Bosnian, Greek, and German flair. They also are a green restaurant, specializing in organic ingredients. I have never eaten there, but I am already making plans to stop in for a meal on our next trip home.

And if the meal tastes even a FRACTION of how good it looks...I am confident I won't be disappointed.

There is so much to share and so much I love about my home region, that I have decided to split it into (at least) two parts. I am also just not ready to leave...

Tomorrow, we venture to my other hometown, Smiths Grove, and to other stops in the CLC region.

Bluegrass, Blues, & Barbecue

2010-09-26T13:36:00.000-05:00

I LOVE music. I think I was probably singing as soon as I learned to talk. There are very few kinds of music that I don't like. And even for those, I can appreciate the talent that is required to perform.

Bluegrass falls into that category. Even though it is not my preferred choice of music, I can appreciate the hard work that artists put in to be successful.

My mother adores Bluegrass music. Her take on it is that even though there are slower songs, it is still upbeat and fun. Owensboro, located in the West, is home to the International Bluegrass Museum. The museum houses exhibits honoring Bill Monroe, the father of Bluegrass music and the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame, among others. This year, the museum hosted the Bill Monroe Centennial Exhibit, showcasing many of Monroe's personal items that have never been seen.

Owensboro is known as Kentucky's Festival City. Owensboro is home to the International Barbecue Festival, held every May. Groups travel from around the world to compete in different meat categories. And the visitors reap the benefits of all this barbecue goodness. Now barbecue, I can seriously get into! The slow cooked goodness and scents that fill the air during the day must be heaven.

Also in the West lies Henderson. Henderson is home to the W.C. Handy Blues and Barbecue festival. While Handy was not originally from Henderson, he was a resident there for many years and even met his wife there. Handy is considered the Father of Blues, and he has said that his time in Henderson helped him "learn to appreciate the music of his people."

And that is how I have begun to feel while I am venturing through this region. Bluegrass is the music of my people. It was created in Kentucky and the state has fostered the musical genius of those who have come to the state to find inspiration. I can completely understand how someone who ventures to our great state could be inspired to create music that tells the story of life, love, and loss.

Just the beginning of this journey has me itching to get behind the wheel of my car to take a long drive through our state, snapping pictures and recording feelings as I go. I want to record it all, live through it, and experience the life of Kentucky. I have already started compiling a list of festivals and stops for this journey.

And tomorrow, I get to go to the Cave, Lakes, & Corvettes region of Kentucky.

Or, as I like to call it, home.

Western Waterlands

2010-09-25T15:18:00.000-05:00

And so, my journey begins in the Western Wetlands. Located between the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers, the western-most part of the state is famous for its water activities: skiing, fishing, tubing, kayaking, and swimming (among others).

The Western side of the state is home to both Lake Barkley and Land Between the Lakes. Both are known again for their outdoor activities, with LBL being comprised of 170,000 acres and possessing an Elk and Bison reserve (among other things).

I have to be very honest, I like water activities in limited quantities. Normally, I get very apprehensive about activities in and around water. It has nothing to do with fear of the water; I am actually a very good swimmer. I think, for me, that the connection with water is that there is normally a swimsuit requirement that goes along with it. Any time a swimsuit is involved, I automatically want to find a reason not to do it.

If not for that, I would LOVE to stay in the water. Water is very freeing. The sound it makes as it laps across a shoreline is a lullaby to which I could fall asleep every evening. I always say that I am not a beach person (only due to the aforementioned swimsuit and the lobster condition that normally occurs when I go out in the sun), but I could handle living in a beach house and swimming on cloudy days. It is one of the reasons I am most excited about our cruise. I cannot wait to sit on the deck of the ship and listen to the water, as well as swim in it in some of the most beautiful locations in the world. By that point, the meal plan should have helped to make me a little less apprehensive about that swimsuit requirement.

The Western Waterlands region is also home to Paducah. If you are looking for local crafts and antiques, then Paducah is a must visit stop. Quilting is one craft activity that I have always wanted to learn and for which Paducah is well known. My mother and I have made attempts to do it, they have just never come to fruition. Like many traditions, quilting by hand has largely been lost to the faster, more efficient machines that can do the same work in less time. It is the loss of these traditions that saddens me. While no one in my family quilted, cooking is another story. There are recipes that were known only to the cook and were lost before I was old enough to appreciate that I might want to have learned them. My Great-Aunt Grady's fried apple pies were manna from Heaven, created with such loving care that cooking had to be a gift given to her from God. To this day, I have found no equal.

Hopkinsville, aka Hoptown, is home to the Cherokee Trail of Tears Commemorative Park. It is the site of an encampment used by members of the Cherokee Tribe during the atrocious movement of several tribes to the Western US. Two Cherokee chiefs are also buried here, having succumbed to the conditions while being forced to leave their homes.

Hoptown is home to an annual Powwow, normally held in September (I was sad to learn that I had missed the event for this year...maybe next year?). Native American dancers, singers, drummers, and arts and crafts vendors gather with both Native and non-Native people to celebrate their rich heritage and tradition. I love that this is done. To have a time set aside where the heritage and traditions of a people are celebrated is such a beautiful thing. It makes me desire to find out more about my own heritage and what traditions I am missing. I am slightly ashamed to admit that there is very little I know about my own family history, with the exception of some vague connections (I know my family is Irish on my mom's side). Again, another journey for another time (but certainly one that would be worthwhile).

And while there is SO much more that could be detailed for the Western Waterlands, it is time to head East.

Tomorrow, it's Bluegrass (the music, that is), Blues, and Barbecue.

A Little History

2010-09-24T19:57:00.000-05:00

Initially, I wanted to take a tour of my home state to learn more about it and more about me. I planned on starting in the West and moving across the state. I started the research for the Western Waterlands, but something just didn't feel right. I kept tying to push and push, just to realize that I was getting nowhere.

And then I figured out why. To begin to understand the state and myself, I am going to give some background and history of the state (but probably not about me-until we get to my region).

Kentucky became the 15th state on Friday, June 1, 1792. The state's name is from in Iroquois word that means "Land of Tomorrow."

Regardless of what the wonderful people of Illinois like to claim, Abraham Lincoln was actually born here:

This house is located in Hodgenville. So while he may have grown up elsewhere, he was born in Kentucky..

The state flag of Kentucky shows two men shaking hands. The frontiersman represents the spirit of Kentucky frontier settlers. The statesman represents the Kentuckians who served their state and nation in the halls of government. The words "United We Stand, Divided We Fall" surround the two men.

The state bird of Kentucky is the Cardinal. Why? No idea. Nothing I have read really advises why any state has a specific bird as its symbol, or why we even have them at all. I am probably one of the few people that finds that interesting. I shall endeavor to find a reason. If I do...you can guess you will hear about it.

State flower: the Goldenrod. Bluegrass was initially the state flower (not kidding...grass was a flower) but some Kentuckians didn't like having a state flower that represented only one region. The War Department gave us the Trumpet Vine unofficially at one point, as a symbol of Kentucky's militia. In 1921, a women's group lobbied to have an official flower. Since the goldenrod was already on the flag, it was chosen.

I will skip the other state things. The list is rather lengthy, as apparently there is a state fish, fossil, gemstone, horse, soil, mineral, tree, and wild animal game species (the gray squirrel, in case you were interested).

I wonder if part of my confusion about my identity growing up was in any way tied to Kentucky's. You see, for our half of the United States, we generally split it in half. There are the Northern (or Union) states and the Southern (or Confederate) states. That is where things get a little dodgy for Kentucky.

In all technicality, Kentucky never ceded from the Union. We were (and still are I suppose) considered a border state. If you think it is that simple, think again. My own home city, Bowling Green, was the provisional capital of the Confederate government in the state of Kentucky.

It is this very contradiction to which I can SO relate. A Union state with Confederate sympathies is the kind of state to which someone with my personality should belong. I think of myself as a walking contradiciton most of the time:

A cynical optimist.

An introverted chatterbox.

An open-minded Christian (that's a WHOLE other post).

And so, I feel better prepared to start this journey. There is SO much history and life in Kentucky, that I could in NO way capture it in just this post. So, I am going to have several.

Starting with the Western Waterlands.

"From" Kentucky

2010-09-23T11:56:00.000-05:00

I have a confession to make: I have not always been proud to be a Kentuckian. When asked about my home state, I simply replied with the following:

"I am not FROM Kentucky, I was simply born there."

The stereotypical statements about people from Kentucky made me angry and determined to ensure that I would never be saddled with the same identity. I remember being in a theater when "Clueless" was released. Cher (Alicia Silverstone) kisses the boy, and then states "Well, you know what happened next..." The scene cuts to a wedding, and Cher states "As if! I am only 16! And this is California, not Kentucky!" That only solidified my determination to never be labeled a Kentuckian.

Age and maturity have a way of bringing new perspective to life. As does meeting those who have pride in our home state. Kentucky is a state with a proud heritage and a lot to offer. Why am I NOT proud to be a part of it? In all honesty, it is because for a long time I didn't like myself. I hid who I was and my true feelings. I spent a lot of time trying to make those around me comfortable that I compromised my own heart.

No longer. I have grown into an adult who is PROUD of who she is. I am free thinking, opinionated, and happy. I am confident enough in myself that stereotypes and misconceptions no longer bother me. In addition, I have realized that I have spent so much time denying the heritage of my land that I don't know very much about it.

So, I have decided to set out to rectify that. I had initially decided to start with my home area and work my way around. However, research has led me to a much more fluid way to do it:

So, using this map as my guide, I am going to spend the next little bit learning as much as I can about each area. First up tomorrow, the Western Lakes & Rivers.

And maybe, along the way, I will learn a little more about myself as well.

Ready to Run

2010-09-22T02:37:00.000-05:00

Since we were on the horse trail yesterday, weigh-in day was delayed until today. I had initially planned on waiting a week, but I have learned that accountability is everything for me and knew that skipping one week would only lead to skipping another, then another, then getting off track. And so regardless of if I wanted to or not, I hauled myself to Dr. B's office to face the scale.

From a food perspective, I didn't really feel like I had been doing very well. I purchased dinner for my team as a celebration for their hard work last month. To fit into my budget for eleven people, pizza was the go-to option. Sadly, most pizza restaurants do not have salads available. The one chosen was not an exception to that. So, I tried to stick with a veggie pizza on thin crust. I didn't feel great about the choice, but I thought it was the best I could do at the time. In truth, I haven't stuck solidly to the meal plan on other days either.

To try and balance that, I did start working out more days. My workout is simple: before my dinner break each night, I make five trips around the inside of my building (the equivalent of one mile). Lately, I have developed this itching desire to jog. I can only jog for small bursts of time, but it is enough to both boost my ego and loosen up the muscles in my legs. Loosening up the muscles means I can both exercise longer and that my legs feel better when I am done.

I never imagined being the kind of person who would like to jog/run. However, I can feel my body wanting to move faster. Walking isn't cutting it. I long to be able to cut loose and go all out. I am fairly confident that wouldn't go over very well with The Company. On the rare occasion that someone does run through our call center, it usually doesn't indicate anything good. Not to mention the fact that my walking path is among the desks, and while walking doesn't garner much notice, jogging certainly would.

So I feel restricted, restrained. I feel like I am being held back, no matter how much I want to break free. When I am walking in the building, I feel a sense of accomplishment tinged with a longing for something more. Me, who just seven weeks ago thought there was no way I could do it, is now ready to run.

For the time being, I am dealing with the desire and lack of outlet. I take the opportunity on days when I am not working to get my son outside and jog with him. At nearly four and possessing nearly boundless energy, he makes for a great jogging buddy.

And with my weigh-in today, I finally got my new number. I am still not in a confident enough place to share that number, but I am getting there. After a rocky week, I went to the scale not because I wanted to go, but because I had to go.

And I (figuratively) ran away, feeling more free than I have in a very long time.

A Horse is A Horse

2010-09-21T12:56:00.000-05:00

For 30+ years, I have managed to admire horses from afar. They are beautiful creatures, I just never had an innate desire to ride on one. I used to ride past a house when I was a child where they owned horses. I even got to name one (Rocky Road, BTW, because his coloring matched the ice cream).

All that aside, I am an adventurous person. So, when the suggestion was made to have an off site team builder at a Tennessee State Park that offers trail riding, I said sure.

There are two things that this state has in abundance: Cedar Trees and Rocks. These two things are very important when we get to the trail riding...

When we arrived at the riding stables, we were greeted by our guide, Jamie and Lady, an Australian Shepherd.

One issue about which I was concerned was the actual process of getting ON the horse. I have previously mentioned my issues with arm strength. Thankfully, the stables had that all figured out. The "loading dock" is horse height. You simply swing a leg over, and voila, you're on the horse.

Speaking of the horse: say hello to BB (short for Big Baby...hmmm).

I was assured by the woman running the stables that BB was calm, never gets in a hurry, and is well-behaved. I am still wondering if she really knows this horse. To add to the fun, just before we left, she also informed us that the horse riding behind us has recently taken to biting BB on the butt. Sounds perfect: I could just imagine it...riding on the trail, horse getting bitten, and me falling and smashing my head on a rock. Great. Just frickin' great.

During the ride, BB decided that he needed to walk as close to the aforementioned trees as possible. Not only that, the rocky path ensured that he would have to adjust his stride over and over again...meaning that I would have to adjust to him. Easier said than done. Every time he shifted, I was sure that I was going to meet the ground in a most painful way.

Each time I pulled back on his "equestrian steering devices" (thanks MJansenMiller), I got the stink eye from the horse. He apparently didn't appreciate being directed to stay back from the horse in front of us, nor did he like to be directed to stop eating the various plants on the path. Meh. I was just following instructions.

Thankfully, the whole biting thing was an unfounded concern: the team member riding the horse behind me owns eight of her own and is very experienced.

(I have to point out that the trail pictures were taken by someone else...no WAY was I letting go of those reins)

After about 10 minutes of riding in abject fear, I began to relax. The others were joking and laughing, which really helped. BB and I got used to each other, and that certainly made me feel much more comfortable. I also learned that the horse liked being petted...to the point where he would slow down and raise his head so that I could do it again. The trail was mostly wooded, which helped protect from the blazing sun that was out yesterday. There was a breeze blowing through the trees that was simply divine.

When we returned to the stables, I was actually disappointed. I wish the ride had been longer. The experience was much more relaxing than I thought it would be.

Am I a horse girl in an instant? Not sure. I think I am going to have to take a few more trail rides to find out.

Excursion - Roatan

2010-09-20T10:59:00.000-05:00

Where Belize has many options that are causing issues with making a decision, Roatan started out as a difficult excursion planning site due to what seemed like very little to do. However, once I began researching, I found that there are MANY interesting options:

Scuba/Snorkeling. I have to be honest. I am fairly certain that by day six of this cruise, we are going to be snorkeled out. I anticipate having spent at least two other days in water (for at least part of the day). Neither hubs nor I are serious water people, so we will probably have had enough by this point. However, I provide it as an option, just for informational purposes.

Garifuna. Now this, I could get into. The Garifuna are the descendants of African slaves who populated the area in the 18th century. Yubu provides a peek into daily life, ritual dances, culture, etc. I am fairly confident that this will be one of our stops (hubs is from Kenya originally).

Carambola Gardens: Again, another viable option for us. You can walk through both gardens and take a walk through a trail that leads to a scenic view of the island. Again, more images from the lens leading to imaginative wanderings of my brain. Hmmm....I really am beginning to feel the beginnings of a novel coming on at this point.

Mangrove Tour: Away from the busy West End of the island lies Jonesville and the East End (obviously). Apparently, this is a less developed area of the island. There is the opportunity to take a 30 minute boat ride through channels cut centuries ago by Paya Indians. Lazy ride on a river? I might be able to go for that.

Hole in the Wall: Okay, I will be the first to admit that there are two television stations that I could NOT live without. They are the Travel Channel and Food Network. On one of them (at this point I cannot remember which) did a special on HITW. Apparently, they are well known for fantastic local food, as well as the opportunity to meet local people and just hang out. As a side note: it is only accessible by boat.

Animals: Specifically iguanas and monkeys. Apparently you can go to some guy named Victor's house and visit with monkeys that he has. They will climb on you and attempt to fish loose change out of pockets. Additionally, there is a stop at an iguana farm. While I like animals as much as the next person, this one will probably be vetoed. Two reasons: 1. I recently learned that hubs detests animals. He lovingly endures zoos, aquariums, and pet stores to satisfy the amusement of both the boy and me. It is purely out of love that he sets personal feelings aside. 2. While I do like lizards, that picture of a swarm of them is enough to turn me off. One or two? Fine. Hundreds? Not so much.

Food: As mentioned before, I will be eating locally. If for some reason we don't make it to HITW, then the above is a good second choice.

As for getting around, I have also looked into getting an International Driver's Permit and renting a car. The cost for our one day is $27, which is considerably less than even the lowest cost tour option. Yes, I would have to drive myself. However, we could then see what we want to see without having to be on some one else's agenda. We'll see how that works out. It is in direct opposition to the idea of relaxing and letting someone else do the work.

And thus concludes my grand excursion research. I doubt this will be the end of my research. After all, there is still plenty of time left before we leave for this journey...

Excursion - Belize

2010-09-19T11:07:00.000-05:00

The third port on our cruise sees us arriving in Belize City at 8 am. Belize will probably be the port at which we have the most difficult time making a decision about what to do. I will just provide the options.

First, there are the adventurous activities:

Ziplining. Yeah, right. Allow me to relay to you a story about my one and only experience on a zip line. One year, as a team builder for resident assistants in college, we went to a rope course. Most of the activities that day required working together to complete a specific task. At the end of the day, the zip line was the "fun" activity. The gentleman who was running the zip line recommended holding the rope to which we were attached with a certain amount of slack. He was apparently unaware of my serious issues with upper body strength. I slid off the platform, promptly lost my hold on the rope, and proceeded to venture down the zip line....HANGING UPSIDE DOWN. All I can say is that yes, the rope was strong, and no, camera phones didn't exist at the time. I can SO imagine that being posted somewhere. Needless to say, I present this excursion option for informational purposes only, as there is NO WAY I am getting back on another zip line. Ever.

Cave-tubing. This is actually a viable option, with the veto possibly due to the consideration that hubs might not really want to spend a few hours playing in water in a cave. Come to that, I am not sure I want to spend a few hours playing in water in a cave. I suppose it really depends on the condition of the water. I really am a chlorinated, pool, shower only kind of water girl. Meh. Might be worth the adventure, so we won't scratch it off the list just yet.

Now, a jungle/rainforest hike might not seem like the type of thing that I would like (city girl, what can I say), but I REALLY think this might be the ticket, if we decide to go the adventurous route. I can imagine walking through the lush flora as native animals call to one another. Just thinking about the prospect is enough to send my imagination into overdrive. And the potential to be able to capture that through the lens of my camera? Wow.

Then, there are the less adventurous (but no less viable) options:

Mayan ruins. While they are also an option in Cozumel, I am NOT of the "you've seen one, you've seen them all" school of thought. Each architectural marvel stands on its own with its own wonders and sights. As previously mentioned, I love buildings. Another chance to "hear" the voices of the past? I could SO do that again (well, if we do it the first time, that is).

Shopping. And not just your run-of-the-mill, chain store kind of shopping. I love open air markets. The treasures that are hiding if you just take the time to step away from the average and look at the unique is another draw for me. Handmade items? Gifts that I could never find in an air-conditioned souvenir shop? Oh, yes please!

Food. Okay. This one really isn't an option. I WILL be eating local food at every port. I know that cruise ship food is fantastic. I am not disputing that whatsoever. However, local fare made the way it has been for decades and possibly centuries cannot be beat.

And so, the jury is really still out on Belize. With the other ports, I have at least a couple of ideas for what we will do. Belize is unique in that I really have no clue. As always, any ideas/comments/recommendations are welcome.

Tomorrow, we arrive at our last port: Roatan Honduras.

We Interrupt This Program...

2010-09-18T17:44:00.000-05:00

So, I know I had planned on excursion research, but today's post is taking a slight detour. We'll move on to Belize tomorrow...

Today was the tentative final fitting for the Matron of Honor gown (aka The Dress). I say tentative because if it still didn't fit, then it would require alterations to let the dress out. Not exactly an exciting prospect. As a reminder:

At last check, our hero (aka me) was able to get the dress zipped. That was an accomplishment in itself. It had been 12 weeks since the dress was ordered, and I had just started the meal plan. However, at the first fitting, the dress was less than flattering. To be quite honest, I felt a lot like a sausage in an unnatural casing (but it DID zip!).

That fitting was 17.6 pounds ago.

As with weigh-ins, I was freaking out. I know that I have been doing very well and sticking to the plan (with a few extras thrown in). I have also been exercising daily. But, last week's shopping trip served to make me a little skeptic about how well this dress would work out.

It was certainly an ego boost early in the morning. The dress fits wonderfully! No sucking in, stiff back, praying craziness required. I did have to help for the zipper, but only because my go-go-gadget arm had been left at home, and I couldn't reach the hook and eye closure (didn't even realize it was there last time). The dress is now hanging in my closet, awaiting our flight to Wilmington, NC.

My next stop was to see if I could find shoes to go with the dress I bought for the rehearsal dinner and some new tennis shoes. A little background: shoe shopping is a nightmare for me. When I want shoes, I do the opposite of what most other people do. I look for my size and THEN look to see if it is a style that I like. When you wear an 11 or 12 size woman's shoe (depending on the style), your options tend to be limited.

I walked past a table with a super cute pair of wedge-heeled sandals. I took a chance and decided to look for my size. Lo and behold, they had them! And they are VERY comfortable! With one knee surgery under my belt and another forthcoming (eventually), that's a tall order.

Not only did I find those shoes, I also found a pair of tennis shoes. K Swiss makes the only shoes that aren't extravagantly expensive and have a solid sole (again, a necessity due to the aforementioned issue with knees). They also have shoes with those requirements that don't resemble orthopedic shoes.

When I normally shop for shoes for hours only to leave empty-handed (or bare-footed, as the case may be), it is a triumph when I can find what I need in less than 20 minutes. Not only that, but both were on sale (which is ALWAYS a good thing).

All-in-all, today was a very good day for boosting self-esteem and reaffirming that I am on the right path. There are days when I just want to give in and give up. Today was NOT one of those days. Today was the kind of day that reminds me that taking care of myself is important. It reminds me to keep pressing on towards my goal, Maybe not without feat but certainly with purpose.

And with that, we now return you to our regularly scheduled programming. Tomorrow, Belize.

Excursion - Cozumel

2010-09-18T01:28:00.000-05:00

The second day port of our upcoming cruise is in Cozumel. This port if probably the largest source of discussion for us. The plus? SO much to do and see. The minus? Only a small amount of time to do it.

The cruise masters have recommended snorkeling in Cozumel, instead of in Grand Cayman. The water is described as clear and beautiful with the ability to see to the bottom:

Gorgeous! That is serving as option one and is WAY out in front as the possibility for the port.

Option number two? Ruins:

This is probably the largest competitor. I am HUGE into history and culture. I love to see historical monuments, and I am very fond of buildings. I love to imagine the people who walked the steps, halls, and floors before me, envisioning what their lives must have been like. I enjoy creating the stories of them in my mind, "watching" them live through my imagination.

Lastly, there is the shopping and the food:

These two things satisfy the culture part of that history and culture. Not only do I like to imagine how people used to live, I love to experience how the culture has been shaped and adapted over time: or if it even has. My favorite moments have been in places where time has managed to impart very little change. I might be disappointed, I know, mainly because this is a tourist location.

So, the jury is still out on what to do when we get there. I am open to suggestions...feel free to comment.

Of course, that all goes out the window if I can find the location of those fish tacos...

Excursion - Grand Cayman

2010-09-16T22:37:00.000-05:00

So, as much as I claim to be able to just relax, I will only be able to do so with a small game plan in place before our cruise. I make no secret of my OCD, and I have learned to keep it to manageable levels. That means specifically that I can give a little on certain aspects of organization, but not all. I like to have an idea of where we will be, what we can do while we are there, and have a slight idea of what we are going to do. So, I thought I would take the next few posts as an opportunity to do my research on ports.

Five years ago, on our first and so far only cruise, the one port we were able to see was Grand Cayman. We passed up the cruise line excursions and decided to just go exploring. Right off the bat, we saw a sign for the most expedient way to get around the island. I cannot remember the cost (it wasn't much, $10-20 for both of us), but a company on the island provides a series of vans that take you to the most popular spots.

The one stop we didn't make (and I wish we had) was the Turtle Farm. Okay, I know it is a tourist locale. I am well aware of this. But I love animals-particularly marine life. I am very much intrigued by the efforts of the Island to both utilize the turtles for food and conservation. This seemingly contradictory practice has been refined over time.

Also, the last time we were there, remnants of the damage from Hurricane Michelle punctuated the island in the form of piles of debris that had yet to be cleared. Hurricane Ivan, which had pummeled the island just one year earlier, also served to leave damage in its wake.

But, the beauty of the island clearly couldn't be diminished by mother nature's fury. My husband, the adventurous explorer, took us into the back streets and smaller shops located further off the beaten path. We found some wonderful surprises in the form of trinkets and souvenirs to bring back to family.

This time around, I have researched a local company for our excursion. We are going to see the turtle farm this time, go back to Hell, and have lunch in a local restaurant. We are also going to spend some time in the water. I am a fairly good swimmer, but I have never been snorkeling before.

If this is even a HINT of what we might see:

Then pass me the mask, tube, and flippers. I am SO there...

Come Sail Away

2010-09-15T22:59:00.000-05:00

Relaxing through the dark nights sailing, when the world is quiet. Think about it, dream it.

With those inspiring words from CanonChefTom, my writer's block was broken today.

Thinking back to the only other cruise we have taken, I remember a very crazy experience that was on the heels of one of the most devastating times of our lives. Two weeks after our son Aidan was delivered into the hands of the Almighty, my husband and I set sail from Miami.

Since my husband was only a permanent resident of the US at the time, our travel options outside the States were limited. Cruising was the best option, as we would be able to travel without special permission for him. It was also a great idea for an all-inclusive vacation. The sole purpose of this trip was to be able to get away from everything and have time to privately grieve the loss of our child.   There were MANY mishaps on this trip. But now, thinking back, I can remember the great parts. Sometimes it's not easy to do that when you are in the middle of it. You can only see the bumps and rocky times.

Skipping those bumps, I remember the peace. One of those bumps caused us to have four out of five days at sea (instead of just three). Hubs and I spent a lot of time casually strolling around the ship, lounging in deck chairs, and doing absolutely nothing but being together.

We watched the sun set every night over the Caribbean Sea. The water, gently lapping the side of the ship, and the wind, flowing over the decks of the ship, created a symphony that is unlike any other. We reconnected under beautiful orange, purple, and red skies and over blue water. We healed under the power of time with nothing to do and nowhere to go. I needed the world to stop, and for that five days, it did.

Our next cruise will take place after we celebrate ten years together and five years since that first cruise.    The circumstances are much happier this time, but the expectations are not different. I want the world to disappear for a few day (seven this time). We are looking for some things to do at our stops, but it is not imperative that we have every minute planned. That, in itself, is a stretch for me. I am used to planning, organizing, and arranging. I have been making a few plans, but for the most part I am content to let the week take care of itself.

For seven days, I have promised to relax. I have promised to let the water take us away. Ziggy will be well cared for under the watchful eye of his Nana, so that concern will be covered. I am looking forward to the art and music that only nature can create. Peace, comfort, and relaxation: through the dark nights...when the world is quiet.

You People

2010-09-14T12:11:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was my 7th anniversary with The Company. That makes it, to date, the longest I have been with any single employer. Of course, at just over 30, that isn't really saying much.

When I first started with The Company, it was a job. I had been unemployed for a lengthy amount of time and for a few months prior, had been selling computers to businesses as a temporary job (that's a whole other blog post). I went into The Company with the idea that it would get us by until I could start school and eventually teach (college level ONLY).

In the early days, I remember cringing any time I heard the infamous "You People." That phrase was normally followed by "messed up my bill," "are lying to me,"or "are the spawn of Satan." At this point, I have heard just about everything, been called just about everything, and have been threatened with just about everything. There is very little that surprises me.

In those days, being called on of "those people" would set my teeth on edge. I couldn't understand why I was being berated for something that I didn't do. I wanted to know why I was bearing the chastisement for errors (either technical or human).

At some point, however, I began to take a different approach. I learned that for most people, seeing an error is just the straw. Life has been throwing curve balls left and right and a billing problem or technical issue is just the last thing they need. The frustration and anger just begin to build to the point where they are unable to contain it any longer. And then they call us. They do so without considering the tips for a successful customer service interaction.

But I am a firm believer that I cannot control the world, only my reaction to others in it. I don't normally get upset by the treatment, I simply endure it. It comes with the territory when you are one of "those people."

And it is no longer a job. It is a career. I love working for The Company (most days). I love what I do (again, most days).

And, at this point, I am proud to be one of "Those People."

Little By Little

2010-09-13T11:49:00.000-05:00

Weigh-in day.

I know I am supposed to consider every little bit a triumph. I would be lying to myself if I said that I don't go in with higher expectations than I probably should. This has always been my downfall. I go in with high expectations, and when those expectations don't come to fruition, I give up.

I tell my reps all the time that the definition of insanity is to do the same thing over and over and expect different results. Time to bring a little sanity back to this process.

The reality is that I DID lose weight this week. That needs to be the focus. Dr. B has told me (over and over again) that as long as I'm losing, then I am on track. It is difficult to convince myself of that when I expect so much more. If I am going to do something, I want to excel.

Losing = excellence. Losing = excellence. Losing = excellence.

So, little by little I am winning this battle. I am not necessarily losing the weight in leaps and bounds but hopefully doing it slowly will both create change in my life and ensure that it stays off this time.

Time Flies. Where's The Fun??

2010-09-12T21:03:00.000-05:00

I need more hours in my day. I seriously doubt that I am alone in that line of thinking. It seems that no matter what we do, time continues to press forward. All we manage to do is to add more "stuff" that needs to be done in that time.

Currently, I am working full time, Mommy-ing full time, and trying to go to school part time. Add in the meal plan, exercise, and a little time for sleep, and the hours in my day are all spoken for. No matter how hard I try, I cannot manage to plan time to do NOTHING into those days. I seriously doubt anyone else can either.

So, at present, I am feeling stretched to my limits. I know I can get it all done, I am just a little stressed with trying.

However, I did get to take a nice long walk with the boys yesterday. I even jogged with my previous All-American Cross-Country Runniing husband...and kept up. How's that for an ego boost?

I really needed to get moving on a homework assignment, but I really was having little in the way of inspiration. And, just as I was getting ready to hunker down and do it, Ziggy crawled up into my lap and wanted to cuddle while watching Cars. The homework was important. That was more so.

And there was my fun. I took time that I would have spent locked away in homework land and was able to find joy in time with my boys. Did the homework go away? Nope. Do I regret taking the time to walk and cuddle? Again, nope. Not ever will I regret taking time for my family.

And...the homework is done. Naptime provided the perfect excuse to focus and get it done. And, by the time naptime was over, homework was finished.

No more time found, but certainly quality time made.

And in the end, that's the most important time that can be spent.

In The Middle

2010-09-11T17:38:00.000-05:00

Having tired of hearing that I need to get some new pants (currently, mine are a little saggy), I thought that I would venture to the Lane Bryant Outlet store. I refuse to pay full price for ANY clothes, and LBO had a sale on career pants. Thinking this would be a good idea, I drove the 1/2 hour it takes to get there.

I should have saved the fuel and the time.

It wasn't until I started trying on clothes that I realized I am between sizes. It is one of the bad side effects of weight loss. I have an atypical body type anyway. Most clothes don't fit very well anyway due to the body that PCOS has given me. I carry my weight around the middle, and I am smaller on top and bottom. That translates to being hard to fit. I am not big into shopping anyway, so it means I generally skip it and make do with what I have.

Today did not change that, at least for the time being. I have currently lost enough in weight and inches that my previous size no longer fits. Pants that I wear to work are beginning to look sloppy, and that is not a good idea for a professional environment. Unfortunately, I have not yet lost enough to fit into the size down. I have never been the type of person who will buy something with the hope of fitting into it. If it doesn't fit when I try it on, it doesn't get purchased.

And so, I wait. I will test it again in a couple of weeks to see if I will then be ready to purchase new clothes. Nothing major, just a couple of outfits to get me by.

Because, after all, I don't plan on being in that size for very long either.

Skinny Days

2010-09-10T19:41:00.001-05:00

Skinny days.

If you have had them, then you know what i am talking about. They are those days when your self-esteem is at a peak. You don your clothes and just feel great.

Today is one of those days for me. I got up, hung out with the boys for a little while, then got ready for work. As I was getting ready, I just felt good. The crap from two days ago is out of my system, I feel light on my feet, and am back to my "normal" self (normalcy is, of course, subjective).

Prior to today, I really hadn't "felt" the weight loss. Others have commented, but I was still feeling oblivious to it. Today, I don't. I really feel energetic and bubbly.

So, I enter the weekend hopeful. It is suposed to rain, but that just means indoor activities. I am thinking about venturing to some shopping. We'll see. I don't want to spend a great deal of money on clothes, but I cannot continue to wear baggy, saggy clothes in my current position.

All I know is that today I feel good. I take it day-by-day, and it helps to let me know that the path I've chosen is a good one.

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Please Don't Scream

2010-09-10T00:49:00.000-05:00

Today, I had the opportunity to speak to a customer whose faith had been tarnished. Due to a bad experience, she was prepared to leave to find greener pastures with another company. After an hour, a little of her faith had been restored. I hope it makes the difference.

And that is the bulk of what I do every day. I am a supervisor in customer service for a company which shall remain nameless. Please don't mistake my reticence to name the company for any sort of concerns regarding pride. I AM proud of what I do. Most days, I love my career. The company is staying "the company" so that I can continue it.

So, with that note, I thought I would create a list of tips for successfully requesting assistance. Trust me. Some of the people with whom I speak need it.

Tips For Successful Customer Service Interactions

1. Please do NOT scream at, berate, curse at, belittle, degrade, demean, or otherwise insult the rep with whom you are speaking. This is rule number one because it is HIGHLY important. I know that you are upset. I know that you might have already spoken to a couple of people who have not assisted you adequately (I am a realist. I won't even pretend that those issues don't exist. It would be pointless and counterproductive). What is important here is to remember honey = flies. If I were to scream obscenities at you, would you really be inclined to listen to anything that I have to say? If you are angry about other issues and this one becomes the straw, please put the call off until tomorrow. Have a glass of wine, pop in some light jazz, light some candles, relax. The issue will still exist tomorrow, but hopefully the emotions won't.

2. We DO want to help you! It's why we get paid. I promise that we do not purposely set out to lead you astray. There is a lot of information to know, different levels of experience, and in the end, we are human. We make mistakes. It would be HORRIBLE business to purposely set out to defraud our customers. Not to mention illegal. Sometimes we do have to give you bad news. It is difficult to be limited in options and still express that we want to do what we can to help you. But I promise, in the end, we DO want to help.

3. Negotiation is the key. It's very important for both customers and representatives of a company to come to an agreement. The only way to do that is to work on give and take. We may not always see eye-to-eye, but we can always work towards an understanding. Let's meet in the middle and resolve the issue, together.

4. It is perfectly acceptable to ask to speak to a supervisor. After giving the representative an opportunity to assist, it is perfectly fine to request to speak to me (or someone like me). Remembering rule #1, just tell the representative that you understand his/her limitations and would like to have the account reviewed with a supervisor. I would be happy to work with you to figure out how we can address your concern and let you get back to enjoying more important things.

And last,

5. If the company you are calling has a survey option, take it!! It is the only way we know what we need to stop, start, or continue. I promise that I listen to every survey, every call, and call every customer who ended the conversation with a less than satisfactory resolution. I take any concerns VERY personally and take a lot of pride in fixing them. Let us help! After all, it's Customer CARE.

Crotchety Young Woman

2010-09-09T00:16:00.000-05:00

I admit it. I am an optimist. I try to see the bright side of life. I think there are enough complaints to be made in general that mine don't need to be added to the heap. I am perpetually perky and really do try to bring people UP with me, instead of down.

Today...not so much. I am really in the "please get out of my way before I verbally steamroll you" mood. And I can only blame myself.

I have been doing really well on my meal plan. I have veered off of the plan a couple of times (I am only human, after all). Last night was one of them. I didn't eat anything particularly bad, I just chose to eat a carb-laden snack too close to bedtime. Not only that, I ate more than I should have that late at night. I knew it. And I did it anyway. I was in a hurry and not pacing my eating. Rules number one and two (and possibly three) broken. And I paid dearly for it.

I have felt like crap all day long. And feeling like crap physically has only served to make me feel like crap mentally and emotionally. Anyone and everything that could rub me the wrong way today has. One of my most perceptive reps asked several times if I was okay. I tried to put on the happy face and say "sure I'm fine." I am fairly confident that I didn't fool him or anyone else.

And so, here I sit, trying to give myself an attitude adjustment and find the sunny side of life. So far, no dice. I keep remembering the incessant singing (another story for another time) and the talking with a mouth full of food. The screaming lady with the Christian-themed password and email address who really is one of the most nasty customers with whom I have spoken in a while. All of this has just served to make an already bad day worse.

In the end, I know that it is a momentary lapse in sunshine. I know that tomorrow is a new day and a new chance to have a new attitude. I know that I am the only one who can keep me down and keep me in this not-so-great place.

So now, I am going to bed. And I AM going to wake up on the right side of it.

In For a Penny...

2010-09-07T12:26:00.000-05:00

...in for a pound. Or 1.8 in this case.

I didn't do too bad this past week, but I also did not hold solidly to the meal plan. We were out and about a lot this past week and weekend. Sadly, there are not a lot of places that support my specific dietary needs. I can adapt most anything, but eating out is still one of my largest challenges. Dr. B recommends carrying my own fish with me...um, no.

While Mondays are normally weigh-in days, the holiday delayed it until today. I have to be honest, weigh-in days freak me out. I moved them to Mondays so that I would be mindful of what I eat on the weekends. This small behavior modification has worked out well, as does knowing that a call from Dr. B would not be far behind if I slip.

More importantly, I WANT to do this. I am ready to be physically different. I know that the emotional and mental me will still be in place. And since I like her, I am okay with that. I am not in this to find some path to enlightenment. I am in this to find a healthier me.

I am really hoping that by next week I get to change the first number in my weight. I am only 3.2 pounds away from doing it. While I am okay with sharing this journey, I am still not comfortable sharing the actual overall number. Someday...maybe.

And so, I begin the week feeling pretty optimistic. As Dr. B reminds me, I didn't gain it in a day, I am not going to lose it in a day. I repeat that mantra often to stave off discouragement. Having a supportive from of friends and family does the same. Thank you to all who are on this journey with me. I wish I could tell you enough how much your "atta-girls" mean.

The Love Boat

2010-09-06T20:31:00.001-05:00

As of today, I have exactly one month before I can no longer change this cruise (at least, not without dishing out more money). We have made the final decision (I think), but the details are still driving me insane.

I am fairly sure I have previously mentioned my issues with OCD. Trip planning is not free from this problem. You would think that because it is a vacation, I would be able to relax, go with the flow, and let the details handle themselves.

Yeah, right.

I am SO not a "go with the flow" kind of person. I need order, I need schedules, and I need plans. Simply allowing things to take care of themselves both unnerves me and sends the OCD into overdrive. I then begin to obsess about all of the things that are not going to be done while I am gone.

I am seriously trying to remember that this is the celebration of the most wonderful decade of my life. It is a celebration of the ups and downs, trials and triumphs, losses and gains. It is the celebration of overcoming the odds of a multicultural, biracial family and thriving in our mixed up life. And with that, I know it will all be okay. We have endured infertility, infant loss, fights, and frustrations. What's a free-flying vacation compared to that?

Will it be perfect and go off without a hitch? Probably not. After all, our wedding didn't. Very little has, to be quite honest.

But will it be amazing and relaxing? Yep: if I allow it to be. And I am determined to let it.

Just as soon as I finalize the booking.

Day Out with Thomas

2010-09-05T22:46:00.000-05:00

For 60 years, Thomas the Tank has been delighting children. Mine is no exception. He is SO enamored with the Island of Sodor and its steam-driven inhabitants that about a year ago his room became a stopping point for the entire "Can-do Crew." Two days of painting, stenciling, stickering, and sweating later, and his room was transformed into a Thomas and Friends wonderland.

About the same time last year, we wanted to take him to a program that travels around the country called "Day Out with Thomas." Sadly, timing was off, and we missed it.

Thankfully, Ziggy's seriously AWESOME Nana (aka Mom) happened along an advertisement for the program and learned it was coming back around this year. Would we miss it again? Pass up the opportunity to foster the Island dreams of our special boy?

Nay. Not if I could help it. So, tickets were purchased, and we were set. Two days before our journey in into Thomas heaven, a friend from my childhood posted a status on Facebook saying he would be driving Thomas!

When we were kids, Shaun lived three doors down from me. To say he was obsessed with trains would be the largest understatement in history! His entire upstairs had the most amazing model train set. If I was ever looking for him and he wasn't at home, I knew I could find him at the tracks. When we were in high school, this of course became something used to tease him, but he stood his ground, loved what he loved, and continued to foster this love. He remains one of the few people I know who had big dreams as a child and LIVES those dreams as an adult. He was one of the first "brave ones," facing ridicule and enduring it to later prove that he would do what he wanted and be successful.

So, a couple of FB messages later, and we had plans to ride Thomas and to see the locomotive that drives him (actually on the other end of the train: kills the mystery, I know). It proved to be the BEST part of the day. Ziggy got to pull the horn, sit in the engineer's seat, and dream locomotive dreams. If you ask his favorite part of the day, it isn't the big slide, the ride on the train, seeing Thomas, or anything else we did today. It is getting to see the "big train" with Shaun. He was so entranced that he asked to see pictures over and over again.

In the end, the adults had just as much fun as Ziggy did. He got to see a train close up and will go to sleep dreaming engineer dreams. And I got to reconnect with a friend who inspires me to be who I am, no apologies, and might just inspire me to get moving on that book...

The Birds and The Bees

2010-09-04T19:46:00.000-05:00

Before you start to worry, this isn't THAT kind of post. Ziggy isn't even four yet, so I am REALLY hoping I have some time before I have to navigate that discussion.

Lately, Ziggy has taken to imitating animals. He goes so far to explain to me that I am the Mommy (insert genus/species here), Hubbs is the Daddy (ditto), and he is the little (last time).

I have learned that the type of animal he chooses is directly related to his mood. If he is irritated (normally after I have told him to do something for the umpteenth time), he is a lion. When he's sleepy and wants to cuddle, he is a puppy or a kitten.

Today? We started out as parrots. Why? I have no clue. I have yet to really be able to pinpoint what mood he was in. He was happy. We were headed out to the store, just me and him. He was hungry, so a stop for nuggets and fries was in order (and a toy). We ceased being parrots for a little while.

Our second stop was at our favorite warehouse sized store. There were a lot of people in the store, which tends to lead to complete and total silence in my son. Ziggy did not follow in my personality footsteps. I like people (for the most part). I tend to smile at strangers politely as I pass (although even I don't go so far as to speak to them in check out lanes). My son? Not so much. He generally elects to simply stare at those who choose to try to engage him in conversation.

Today, instead of silence, we morphed into bees. The more people tried to draw him out, the louder the buzzing. The higher the pitch? The happier the bee apparently. I ran into a coworker and her husband while in the store, and the little bee who had overtaken my son's body actually nodded at questions and smiled. This is a rare occurrence in his world and means that he likes the person with whom he is speaking. Like hubs, he has a great sense of people.

So, would other people find it weird? Probably. Do I care? Absolutely not. In this day and age, children grow up way too fast. Imaginations are squashed in favor of realism. We tell our children that they have to see the world in black and white and shades of gray instead of helping them remember that there exists a rainbow of colors.

And it is for this reason that my child is going to keep on buzzing, roaring, squawking, meowing, and yipping through his preschool years. The promise I make to him is to allow him to be a carefree little boy as long as I can. And to make sure that he always gets to see the rainbow.

Little Einsteins

2010-09-04T01:36:00.000-05:00

Okay...I know this is technically yesterday's blog. Blame it on a late night schedule. But, I am taking up @bluebelleinbg's challenge and am going to try to fulfill the NaBloPoMo's mission to blog every day in September. Even if I am not really that interesting and am not sure I have that much to say. So, we'll see how it goes. In the interest of playing along with the theme, I am writing my first (and probably only) "art" themed blog.

My son is very single-minded in purpose. I cannot imagine that there are many toddlers who aren't. He doesn't ease into a new interest. He jumps in full force and head-on. He sees something new and the family is subjected to it repeatedly for weeks. Thankfully, the fervor does die down and while he doesn't forget, he does ease up.

This week's "new" thing? Little Einsteins.

I had never watched it before this week, so imagine my joy when, during the first episode, I learn that it is a show geared towards teaching children about music and art. And not just the crappy music and fingerpainting. Instead, classic art and classical music. Andy Warhol. Smetana. Van Gogh beyond Starry Night. Beethoven.

And he LOVES it! Since I have been singing since I was little and have been addicted to Van Gogh since I was a child, I am thrilled with his latest obsession. We might be inundated with it for the next few weeks, but at least it's education beyond the normal shapes and colors.