Most of the day was spent using my binoculars to see the wagon. It apparently got way far ahead of me. It's only as I have slowed down that I have finally caught up to it.
I am doing some stretches and hope to scratch my way up into it to sleep for the night. It looks different than before.
I'll tell you how it rides tomorrow.
God Bless,
Eva :)
Sunday, January 10, 2010
He stole my book!!
So I'm reading this book. I'm almost done. It only took me a couple of days to read most of it and now that I'm near the end I don't want to finish it. Not because it's a bad book. Not because I'm bored with it. But because it's so relatable (apparently that's not a word) to me I don't want it to be over.
It was funny, I was out with Smoky Mama and Pumpkin (my in laws) on our annual Christmas craft show and dinner date, when we were in a Christian book store.
Anyhoo, we were in the store and I notice a new book by a best selling author whom I've bought books by before. Some people love him, others probably wouldn't join his marketing team. I bought his 3 in 1 book and only got 2/3rds of the way through one of the books. The best seller.
I'm not sure what exactly made me think this book would be any different. I think it was the fact that initially I thought the book was written by a different author with a similar thought pattern and I got them mixed up. I pull the book off of the shelf take it over to Smoky Mama and say 'I wouldn't mind this for Christmas. It's on sale!'
We always let eachother be completely thoughtful when gift giving. Never make lists or demand anything. Always handmade. I was trying to be subtle, you know?
I went to put the book back where I got it from and Smoky Mama yells 'Well bring it over! This will help me get started'. I took it to her in mild disbelief and felt a tad guilty for bringing it up. We briefly argued about her getting the book right then. We didn't use our fists though. She bought the book. I pretended to forget and was very excited when I opened it Christmas Eve.
Did I mention I had no real idea what the book was about? Yeah, I just knew it was more of a self reflective book about the author 'editing' his life or something. It sounded like his life got better in the end and I thought to myself: 'He's a best selling author and needed his life to get better. I'm ... well ... me. I suppose there's always room for improvement. Heck, maybe I'll finish it.'
I soon got reading the book and realized that this author had beautifully articulated so many of my thoughts on life. It was so cool to read something that in essence I feel like I could've written myself.
Then I got wondering if he had secret powers to get into my head and steal my thoughts. Then I realized that I wasn't a best selling author, didn't try and write a movie, and well could never have written this book. Relief ... I wouldn't have to sue.
The book was about writing your own story in life. That the power to write it is within your control (how you are going to deal with life and stuff). He doesn't say that you can avoid cancer by thinking certain thoughts, but that you can choose how you are going to make your cancer story go. How you are going to live it.
I completely related to what Don was saying (we're on a first name, abbreviated basis. Don't be jealous you can read the book too), when he spoke of creating a meaningful story in your life. I feel like this has been the exact lesson I've been learning during the past 7 years. I've been discovering that it's not your personality that determines what kind of live you have, it's what you chose to do with the life you have been given.
I used to day dream (and still do) about the kind of person I've always wanted to be. When I was young my birthday wishes, as far back as I can remember, were to be beautiful. When I was an overweight 10 year old that meant physical beauty. As I grew up that dream didn't change. My thoughts of being 16 years old were that of a beautiful girl. I wanted that. I believe I became that - though I'd never say that at the time. I had a pure heart for God. A sincere desire to do whatever He wanted. Love for my family and friends. I was a decently attractive young lady. Not a model, not a size 6, but I took care of myself.
As I have grown older I have had more day dreams. This time more about my life and who I really am. I have grown and changed , not all for the good. When I realized after my aunt died that you truly only have one life to live and God does not always intervene to save it (at least not in the physical sense), I realized that I was the one who would have to do something about it. A huge turning point for me was when Wally was unemployed and we hadn't gotten pregnant- at that point were a bit relieved about this. But I was looking at my life and I saw that no one was going to magically walk in and grant all of my wishes. I wasn't just going to go to bed one day and wake up the next as a stay at home mom. My husband wasn't going to magically be all that I needed him to be. I needed to put some work into it.
That's when I feel that I became an author. Re-writing my story. Wally did too. The thing that makes it easiest for me to 'write' my story is reminding myself what kind of person, or as Don would say 'character', I would like to be. I think that I unintentionally did this and held on for dear life with it. I kept running into people in my life here and there that showed me glimpses of what it looked like to truly LIVE a real life. There weren't very many at first. But as I kept writing and living and trying to be open to plot changes our story began to take some fun twists and turns.
I was out with a friend of mine the other day for coffee. I was telling him how looking back recently over the past 2 years I'd been in school how much I could see a difference in mine and Wally's relationship. How I was starting to see how Wally is becoming the man that I have always wanted him to be. That sounds selfish but it's true. Of course when we married Wally and I were best friends (sorry for the cliche but it's the best way I can describe it). We had eachother's backs, loved the same things, cheered eachother on - life had an ease. Then when life happened we changed quickly and found it more difficult to continue to put the other first, it's wearing after a while.
I have been able to witness God changing our hearts slowly but beautifully. There was a point in time I didn't want to be married to Wally any more, he was not the person that I wanted to raise a family with. I waited a long time to tell him this. I was ashamed and didn't want to hurt his feelings. He was still my friend. I told him though. I told him how I felt. I told him I wouldn't leave him physically because I made a promise. But I did tell him that I didn't want to have children any longer with him and that really we'd just live in the same house if something didn't change. I loved him but not like that.
Some men would take off after hearing this, or say mean things back. Wally didn't. Wally cried and apologized. I cried and hoped things would get better. Within a couple of months Wally got a job. He worked on a pig farm without hesitation. His focus was me. His heart was me. He did anything for me. After that I knew he was real. I knew he was a keeper.
Wally worked at 2 pig farms for almost 3 years without ever complaining about doing it. Then it was my turn. To do anything for him. I told him I was ready for him to go to school. He protested, worried that I wasn't ready for it. I thought about it a bit longer. Then I told him I was ready. I was. A great character would do that in a good story. A great character would love her husband that much.
Well I did and soon after when I went to Wally and told him I'd love to go back to school he didn't even hesitate. We bought a backpack and off I went. Wally was a great character in my story. I am really liking how things are being written.
Anyways, you know how things have ended up since. Struggles remain but in the end I see myself in the middle of an epic novel. Writing your story is very cool. Way better than succumbing to someone else’s.
My hope is that I never stop writing, that I never give up trying to become an admirable character. I want my character to be strong, funny, deep, wise, full of love, real and … know karate.
It was funny, I was out with Smoky Mama and Pumpkin (my in laws) on our annual Christmas craft show and dinner date, when we were in a Christian book store.
Anyhoo, we were in the store and I notice a new book by a best selling author whom I've bought books by before. Some people love him, others probably wouldn't join his marketing team. I bought his 3 in 1 book and only got 2/3rds of the way through one of the books. The best seller.
I'm not sure what exactly made me think this book would be any different. I think it was the fact that initially I thought the book was written by a different author with a similar thought pattern and I got them mixed up. I pull the book off of the shelf take it over to Smoky Mama and say 'I wouldn't mind this for Christmas. It's on sale!'
We always let eachother be completely thoughtful when gift giving. Never make lists or demand anything. Always handmade. I was trying to be subtle, you know?
I went to put the book back where I got it from and Smoky Mama yells 'Well bring it over! This will help me get started'. I took it to her in mild disbelief and felt a tad guilty for bringing it up. We briefly argued about her getting the book right then. We didn't use our fists though. She bought the book. I pretended to forget and was very excited when I opened it Christmas Eve.
Did I mention I had no real idea what the book was about? Yeah, I just knew it was more of a self reflective book about the author 'editing' his life or something. It sounded like his life got better in the end and I thought to myself: 'He's a best selling author and needed his life to get better. I'm ... well ... me. I suppose there's always room for improvement. Heck, maybe I'll finish it.'
I soon got reading the book and realized that this author had beautifully articulated so many of my thoughts on life. It was so cool to read something that in essence I feel like I could've written myself.
Then I got wondering if he had secret powers to get into my head and steal my thoughts. Then I realized that I wasn't a best selling author, didn't try and write a movie, and well could never have written this book. Relief ... I wouldn't have to sue.
The book was about writing your own story in life. That the power to write it is within your control (how you are going to deal with life and stuff). He doesn't say that you can avoid cancer by thinking certain thoughts, but that you can choose how you are going to make your cancer story go. How you are going to live it.
I completely related to what Don was saying (we're on a first name, abbreviated basis. Don't be jealous you can read the book too), when he spoke of creating a meaningful story in your life. I feel like this has been the exact lesson I've been learning during the past 7 years. I've been discovering that it's not your personality that determines what kind of live you have, it's what you chose to do with the life you have been given.
I used to day dream (and still do) about the kind of person I've always wanted to be. When I was young my birthday wishes, as far back as I can remember, were to be beautiful. When I was an overweight 10 year old that meant physical beauty. As I grew up that dream didn't change. My thoughts of being 16 years old were that of a beautiful girl. I wanted that. I believe I became that - though I'd never say that at the time. I had a pure heart for God. A sincere desire to do whatever He wanted. Love for my family and friends. I was a decently attractive young lady. Not a model, not a size 6, but I took care of myself.
As I have grown older I have had more day dreams. This time more about my life and who I really am. I have grown and changed , not all for the good. When I realized after my aunt died that you truly only have one life to live and God does not always intervene to save it (at least not in the physical sense), I realized that I was the one who would have to do something about it. A huge turning point for me was when Wally was unemployed and we hadn't gotten pregnant- at that point were a bit relieved about this. But I was looking at my life and I saw that no one was going to magically walk in and grant all of my wishes. I wasn't just going to go to bed one day and wake up the next as a stay at home mom. My husband wasn't going to magically be all that I needed him to be. I needed to put some work into it.
That's when I feel that I became an author. Re-writing my story. Wally did too. The thing that makes it easiest for me to 'write' my story is reminding myself what kind of person, or as Don would say 'character', I would like to be. I think that I unintentionally did this and held on for dear life with it. I kept running into people in my life here and there that showed me glimpses of what it looked like to truly LIVE a real life. There weren't very many at first. But as I kept writing and living and trying to be open to plot changes our story began to take some fun twists and turns.
I was out with a friend of mine the other day for coffee. I was telling him how looking back recently over the past 2 years I'd been in school how much I could see a difference in mine and Wally's relationship. How I was starting to see how Wally is becoming the man that I have always wanted him to be. That sounds selfish but it's true. Of course when we married Wally and I were best friends (sorry for the cliche but it's the best way I can describe it). We had eachother's backs, loved the same things, cheered eachother on - life had an ease. Then when life happened we changed quickly and found it more difficult to continue to put the other first, it's wearing after a while.
I have been able to witness God changing our hearts slowly but beautifully. There was a point in time I didn't want to be married to Wally any more, he was not the person that I wanted to raise a family with. I waited a long time to tell him this. I was ashamed and didn't want to hurt his feelings. He was still my friend. I told him though. I told him how I felt. I told him I wouldn't leave him physically because I made a promise. But I did tell him that I didn't want to have children any longer with him and that really we'd just live in the same house if something didn't change. I loved him but not like that.
Some men would take off after hearing this, or say mean things back. Wally didn't. Wally cried and apologized. I cried and hoped things would get better. Within a couple of months Wally got a job. He worked on a pig farm without hesitation. His focus was me. His heart was me. He did anything for me. After that I knew he was real. I knew he was a keeper.
Wally worked at 2 pig farms for almost 3 years without ever complaining about doing it. Then it was my turn. To do anything for him. I told him I was ready for him to go to school. He protested, worried that I wasn't ready for it. I thought about it a bit longer. Then I told him I was ready. I was. A great character would do that in a good story. A great character would love her husband that much.
Well I did and soon after when I went to Wally and told him I'd love to go back to school he didn't even hesitate. We bought a backpack and off I went. Wally was a great character in my story. I am really liking how things are being written.
Anyways, you know how things have ended up since. Struggles remain but in the end I see myself in the middle of an epic novel. Writing your story is very cool. Way better than succumbing to someone else’s.
My hope is that I never stop writing, that I never give up trying to become an admirable character. I want my character to be strong, funny, deep, wise, full of love, real and … know karate.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Day 3 of Stupidness
Was pretty much spent running full strength.
After the wagon.
I think the darn thing has an engine!!!!
After the wagon.
I think the darn thing has an engine!!!!
Day 2 of Stupidness
Was filled with little sleep as a scratchy throat found me and aching muscles settled in preventing me from waking up looking like ... heaven. Shocking I know.
Worked all day with a headache. Got a chuckle out of my new job.
This one lady who's name is Trudy but prefers to be called Bobbie called the lady I was 'shadowing' a witch. Apparently Bobbie has a sense of humour. When the lady she called a witch put cream on Bobbie's fingernails Bobbie then asked if I could put the cream on her toes because, Bobbie said, 'I love her'. Made me chuckle. I put the cream on her severely disfigured toes while Bobbie said sternly 'Do NOT tickle my feet!'. I secretly feared for my safety and halfheartedly tried not to tickle her feet. She laughed. I was relieved.
I came home exhausted. Wally ordered Panzerotti. I ate half mine along with half a cooler, followed by too much cookies and cream Breyers. Oops. Rubbed my butt from the fall I took (you know, off the wagon). Slept on and off through a Dateline (which by the way I LOVE). While Wally huffed and puffed in the other room saying he wouldn't come out while I was watching such a show.
I watched the entire two hours and then went to bed.
I also got an e-mail from one of my loser team mates, I actually mean my 'biggest loser' team mates, who invited us to do walking together. I instantly loved her. she doesn't know anyone either.
Maybe I'll run after the wagon and get agile enough to climb back on.
We'll see on Day 3.
Worked all day with a headache. Got a chuckle out of my new job.
This one lady who's name is Trudy but prefers to be called Bobbie called the lady I was 'shadowing' a witch. Apparently Bobbie has a sense of humour. When the lady she called a witch put cream on Bobbie's fingernails Bobbie then asked if I could put the cream on her toes because, Bobbie said, 'I love her'. Made me chuckle. I put the cream on her severely disfigured toes while Bobbie said sternly 'Do NOT tickle my feet!'. I secretly feared for my safety and halfheartedly tried not to tickle her feet. She laughed. I was relieved.
I came home exhausted. Wally ordered Panzerotti. I ate half mine along with half a cooler, followed by too much cookies and cream Breyers. Oops. Rubbed my butt from the fall I took (you know, off the wagon). Slept on and off through a Dateline (which by the way I LOVE). While Wally huffed and puffed in the other room saying he wouldn't come out while I was watching such a show.
I watched the entire two hours and then went to bed.
I also got an e-mail from one of my loser team mates, I actually mean my 'biggest loser' team mates, who invited us to do walking together. I instantly loved her. she doesn't know anyone either.
Maybe I'll run after the wagon and get agile enough to climb back on.
We'll see on Day 3.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Day 1 of Stupidness
Marshmallows.
They participated in my day.
So did the songs: 'She's a Brick House', 'I'm a Survivor', and a handful of others.
It's night time. I am tired. My knees are aching from stupidness, an activity I partook in early today. A time at which several expletives were used that would turn your ears purple and make them fall off.
The lady in the exercise video game thingy is rude. She has way too much to say, all at the wrong time. If I wanted to hold the pose, I'd hold it. She needn't add her 2 cents. Witch.
After the exercise 'game' I did 15 minutes of boxing to fun music. Then I noticed I was boxing to the beat. Then I thought why not just dance instead. I turned it up and was the brick house - with every fiber of my being.
It felt good.
Went to work. Came home starved. Ate a bit too much lunch. Then felt to need to eat marshmallows because they don't seem entirely evil. Then I felt that Graham crackers go good with marshmallows. It didn't seem right that the chocolate was left out. I ate a few 'flavored' chocolate chips. They should be renamed edible wax.
I made it up to myself with some hot chocolate. It's just a drink right? Oh yeah, I used my chocolate covered stir spoon too. You know to stir things up a bit.
Felt overly full. Laid down to catch 40 winks, accidentally got 75 instead. When I woke up I forgot the day, time, and my purpose in life. Recovered in 5 minutes and realized I had to fulfill my purpose in 45 minutes.
I scurried, fulfilled, returned to tell the incredible story (and learned that my spelling of the word incredible is way off).
Overall a great start to my self induced torture.
Stupidness will be back. It's inevitable. It knows my name.
Good night.
They participated in my day.
So did the songs: 'She's a Brick House', 'I'm a Survivor', and a handful of others.
It's night time. I am tired. My knees are aching from stupidness, an activity I partook in early today. A time at which several expletives were used that would turn your ears purple and make them fall off.
The lady in the exercise video game thingy is rude. She has way too much to say, all at the wrong time. If I wanted to hold the pose, I'd hold it. She needn't add her 2 cents. Witch.
After the exercise 'game' I did 15 minutes of boxing to fun music. Then I noticed I was boxing to the beat. Then I thought why not just dance instead. I turned it up and was the brick house - with every fiber of my being.
It felt good.
Went to work. Came home starved. Ate a bit too much lunch. Then felt to need to eat marshmallows because they don't seem entirely evil. Then I felt that Graham crackers go good with marshmallows. It didn't seem right that the chocolate was left out. I ate a few 'flavored' chocolate chips. They should be renamed edible wax.
I made it up to myself with some hot chocolate. It's just a drink right? Oh yeah, I used my chocolate covered stir spoon too. You know to stir things up a bit.
Felt overly full. Laid down to catch 40 winks, accidentally got 75 instead. When I woke up I forgot the day, time, and my purpose in life. Recovered in 5 minutes and realized I had to fulfill my purpose in 45 minutes.
I scurried, fulfilled, returned to tell the incredible story (and learned that my spelling of the word incredible is way off).
Overall a great start to my self induced torture.
Stupidness will be back. It's inevitable. It knows my name.
Good night.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
The 'Button'
Here are a few things about buttons in general:
1. Wally loves hearing me say the word buttons. The reason is because when I say it I over pronounce the t's. I also do this with the words: mittens, kitten's and Tim Horton's. I only started doing this a few years ago when one of the kids I mentored when I was a youth worker did it. Now I can't seem to stop. If I try I feel like I'm doing an English accent or something. I don't get it.
2. I bought a new coat over the holidays. It was on sale because of Boxing Day - that's how I roll ... with the sales I mean. It was on even more sale because every coat in the store had button's falling off. I started browsing and noticed right away this was the case. The sales girl saw my reluctance to commit to a coat. Mostly it was because I didn't know whether I looked better with or without a belt, but I'm assuming she thought it was the missing button epidemic that took over the store. I was thinkin' this because she immediately let me know that if I wanted I could get an additional 10% off of my coat purchase because of the missing buttons
If I wanted? Are you kidding me lady? That's the dumbest offer statement I've ever heard. Like, I'm going to say 'No thanks, I want to pay full price for this article of clothing that is falling apart at the seams. Come to think of it, can I throw in a 25% tip also, just because you are that nice? Yeah, duh! The funny part was as she was showing me how I could wear the belt this way and that (really when the belt is attached to the coat there is only one way to wear it - even I know that)she was mentioning how the coat didn't really need the 25 decorative buttons that were on the coat either. You know, in case they fell off. Well geez, way to sell the coat. Unfortunately for her I'm not 6. Fortunately for her I am a bargain hunter.
I bought the coat with the missing buttons, came home determined to re sew all of the buttons back on before I wore it out. I wore it out, forgot to remove the tag on the sleeve, forgot to snip the threads int he back 'vent area', and decided that the already missing button on the front wasn't all that necessary (who needs their coat to close up int he winter anyways?)
While I was out another button fell off. It was a decorative one. She said I didn't need it...
Ok so on to the third and final button (like my sermon?)
The anticipation button. Was that what I called it? Or was it the adrenaline button? I can't remember, it was a button of some persuasion I know that. Anyways, I don't know that I found it regarding my desire to melt my bod into ... well a bod of less proportion.
I was at work today meeting with my new supervisor, blah, blah, blah. aNd they were starting this 'Biggest Loser' thing.
*sigh*
I did this last year at my gym and failed miserably. I began to detest the little psychology analysis I got each time I weighed in and didn't lose weight, and I thought I had better never do such a thing again if I didn't want to end up in jail for homicide. However I've been looking for my 'inciting incident'. (I'm reading a book, a good book. I'll have to expand on it later. It's a me book, I'll say that much.)
Where was I?
Yeah I have been trying to find something basically I could commit to that would MAKE me succeed at my goals. I'm not sure if this is it, I guess we'll see. I really didn't want to do this. I mean I like JUST started working there, did I really want a complete stranger weighing me in? I think I'd rather streak naked in the woods. Ok so streaking naked in the woods probably wouldn't be that bad ... my point is I wasn't too keen on the whole thing. Also, we are put into teams to 'encourage' eachother. (That's a nice way of saying eagle eying every morsel of food that goes into eachother's mouths - whatever.)
However for the sake of losing my pride and humbling my self, (and a last ditch effort to look great in a party dress in April) I joined the stupid thing.
Anyways, we'll see. I think I'm going to do it and rock it just so I have something to be cranky about for the next 3 months. I'm kinda funny when I'm cranky. Well to a point, until the knives come out and well we'll hope that doesn't happen.
So today at 12:15 pm I weighed in at... well I have to admit I have absolutely no clue. I looked away from the scale and put the weigher lady in a CPI hold and told her if she breathed my weight out loud or to anyone else I'd hunt her down and put laxatives in her coffee when she wasn't looking. she promised not to tell and asked me if I was sure I didn't want to know. She didn't need her right arm.
I immediately came home and prepared for my stint in my real life 'Biggest Loser'. I went to the grocery store and bought chips to help me finish off my spinach dip, and a dozen bakery chocolate chip cookies. I came home and ate the rest of the dip, with a handful of chips (cause really there wasn't much dip left). Slugged back a giant glass of Coke, ate half of the cookies, felt boated and wondered what I would eat for supper later.
When I got home from a short 2 hour shift I thought I'd top off my night (along with my Wally), by taking it easy and SPLITTING a slice of pizza at the old people mall beside us. Of course we tripped over the dollar store on the way home and picked up some Swedish Berries and peanut butter cups, you know, to make my commitment real.
I just checked my e-mail. Saw who was on my team. Shouldn't you have something to lose in order to be a part of 'The biggest loser'? Whatever. Skinny bitches. Stupid buttons.
Sorry I'm getting a little cranky.
Eating ... peanut ... butter ... cups.
Later.
1. Wally loves hearing me say the word buttons. The reason is because when I say it I over pronounce the t's. I also do this with the words: mittens, kitten's and Tim Horton's. I only started doing this a few years ago when one of the kids I mentored when I was a youth worker did it. Now I can't seem to stop. If I try I feel like I'm doing an English accent or something. I don't get it.
2. I bought a new coat over the holidays. It was on sale because of Boxing Day - that's how I roll ... with the sales I mean. It was on even more sale because every coat in the store had button's falling off. I started browsing and noticed right away this was the case. The sales girl saw my reluctance to commit to a coat. Mostly it was because I didn't know whether I looked better with or without a belt, but I'm assuming she thought it was the missing button epidemic that took over the store. I was thinkin' this because she immediately let me know that if I wanted I could get an additional 10% off of my coat purchase because of the missing buttons
If I wanted? Are you kidding me lady? That's the dumbest offer statement I've ever heard. Like, I'm going to say 'No thanks, I want to pay full price for this article of clothing that is falling apart at the seams. Come to think of it, can I throw in a 25% tip also, just because you are that nice? Yeah, duh! The funny part was as she was showing me how I could wear the belt this way and that (really when the belt is attached to the coat there is only one way to wear it - even I know that)she was mentioning how the coat didn't really need the 25 decorative buttons that were on the coat either. You know, in case they fell off. Well geez, way to sell the coat. Unfortunately for her I'm not 6. Fortunately for her I am a bargain hunter.
I bought the coat with the missing buttons, came home determined to re sew all of the buttons back on before I wore it out. I wore it out, forgot to remove the tag on the sleeve, forgot to snip the threads int he back 'vent area', and decided that the already missing button on the front wasn't all that necessary (who needs their coat to close up int he winter anyways?)
While I was out another button fell off. It was a decorative one. She said I didn't need it...
Ok so on to the third and final button (like my sermon?)
The anticipation button. Was that what I called it? Or was it the adrenaline button? I can't remember, it was a button of some persuasion I know that. Anyways, I don't know that I found it regarding my desire to melt my bod into ... well a bod of less proportion.
I was at work today meeting with my new supervisor, blah, blah, blah. aNd they were starting this 'Biggest Loser' thing.
*sigh*
I did this last year at my gym and failed miserably. I began to detest the little psychology analysis I got each time I weighed in and didn't lose weight, and I thought I had better never do such a thing again if I didn't want to end up in jail for homicide. However I've been looking for my 'inciting incident'. (I'm reading a book, a good book. I'll have to expand on it later. It's a me book, I'll say that much.)
Where was I?
Yeah I have been trying to find something basically I could commit to that would MAKE me succeed at my goals. I'm not sure if this is it, I guess we'll see. I really didn't want to do this. I mean I like JUST started working there, did I really want a complete stranger weighing me in? I think I'd rather streak naked in the woods. Ok so streaking naked in the woods probably wouldn't be that bad ... my point is I wasn't too keen on the whole thing. Also, we are put into teams to 'encourage' eachother. (That's a nice way of saying eagle eying every morsel of food that goes into eachother's mouths - whatever.)
However for the sake of losing my pride and humbling my self, (and a last ditch effort to look great in a party dress in April) I joined the stupid thing.
Anyways, we'll see. I think I'm going to do it and rock it just so I have something to be cranky about for the next 3 months. I'm kinda funny when I'm cranky. Well to a point, until the knives come out and well we'll hope that doesn't happen.
So today at 12:15 pm I weighed in at... well I have to admit I have absolutely no clue. I looked away from the scale and put the weigher lady in a CPI hold and told her if she breathed my weight out loud or to anyone else I'd hunt her down and put laxatives in her coffee when she wasn't looking. she promised not to tell and asked me if I was sure I didn't want to know. She didn't need her right arm.
I immediately came home and prepared for my stint in my real life 'Biggest Loser'. I went to the grocery store and bought chips to help me finish off my spinach dip, and a dozen bakery chocolate chip cookies. I came home and ate the rest of the dip, with a handful of chips (cause really there wasn't much dip left). Slugged back a giant glass of Coke, ate half of the cookies, felt boated and wondered what I would eat for supper later.
When I got home from a short 2 hour shift I thought I'd top off my night (along with my Wally), by taking it easy and SPLITTING a slice of pizza at the old people mall beside us. Of course we tripped over the dollar store on the way home and picked up some Swedish Berries and peanut butter cups, you know, to make my commitment real.
I just checked my e-mail. Saw who was on my team. Shouldn't you have something to lose in order to be a part of 'The biggest loser'? Whatever. Skinny bitches. Stupid buttons.
Sorry I'm getting a little cranky.
Eating ... peanut ... butter ... cups.
Later.
Gramma's in love - Part duex
The other day I called my Gramma to finally tell her that Wally got a job (after my mama had asked me on the two previous phone calls if I had yet I figured it was time).
Not far into the conversation she shared that her and Boyfriend Grampa exchanged Christmas gifts. I'm not sure why they had already. I was three days or so before Christmas, they live like in side by side buildings, they see eachother every day. Maybe it's a near death thing.
She told me that Boyfriend Grampa bought her beautiful earrings. They were shaped like hearts - have gold, half silver. THere was a pause after she gave the details. I was supposed to comment ... alot. I did.
I said 'Maybe next time it'll be jewelery for your hand' (hee hee).
She didn't 'hee hee'.
Instead she got all serious like I offended her, which surprised me because her and Boyfriend Grampa were very obviously smitten with each other. I felt bad that I hit a nerve. and was all ready to apologize. She didn't give me a chance.
'No' she said with a brand new tone, 'That won't be happening.' (Slight pause). 'I'll tell you something though, that I haven't told many. We've talked about that.'
Apparently 'that' is a secret word.
She continued ... 'I looked into things and we found out that if we *cough cough* got married, I would lose a thousand dollars a month of your grandfather's pension. IT just wouldn't be worth it'.
I simply replied 'Oh' - since I was really only trying to lighten the conversation (not deplete it from all joy). We finished our conversation and I hung up the phone.
My 'living self' began to go on a tangent. It was all in a tither. 'How could anyone think money is more important than love. Especially at their age.' Keep in mind I'm not a romantic -ey thinker. I kept on.
'They are old. They found love again. They should forget about the money and just get hitched already. If that's what they want they need to go for it! How ridiculous! They must not be that serious. They can't love eachother THAT much. Silly. How silly.'
Then as I was retelling the conversation to Wally I realized something. Gramma's 75. Boyfriend Grampa's 84. (Apparently some of her friends didn't approve ... because of the 'age difference' ... I thought old was old. I guess I was wrong.) He, Boyfriend Grampa, constantly teases that he's living on borrowed time, that he will go any day now so he's going to enjoy havin' a lady. Gramma is full of life. Never been truly sick in her life (other than when everyone else was sick that she was caring for - even that wasn't for long). Gramma could live for another 20 years easy. Statistically she will likely outlive Boyfriend Grampa. If she married him she'd lose virtually 2/3's of her income. If he died, sorry I mean when he dies, she's basically screwed.
I then was very impressed at their forethought on the matter and realized how serious they were about one another. My mother later said that Boyfriend Grampa didn't want Gramma to be put in a situation that could possibly do her financial harm for the future. My heart softened.
As I mentioned before I'm not a romantic-ey person. The only thing I romanticize is life really. You know nothing big. Not like relationships and stuff.
But when I heard about my 75 year old Gramma not feeling freedom to be able to marry her love, I felt romantic. I felt like I was witnessing a real Romeo and Juliet. Except they were 60 years older. And their families approved. Ok so maybe that's a bad comparison. But you know. Love that couldn't fully Blossom, couldn't fully be realized.
It made me sad a little.
Then Gramma said something that made me less sad. She said very practically 'It's ok. He comes over around 3 in the afternoon everyday and stays for supper. We see eachother everyday.' Gramma seemed completely satisfied with the solution.
I got to thinking. Maybe the government with all of it's pension rules knows what it's doing after all.
Keeping love young. Keeping love on fire. Keeping love waiting for the next time it will be encountered.
Well sometimes it's nice to pretend.
Not far into the conversation she shared that her and Boyfriend Grampa exchanged Christmas gifts. I'm not sure why they had already. I was three days or so before Christmas, they live like in side by side buildings, they see eachother every day. Maybe it's a near death thing.
She told me that Boyfriend Grampa bought her beautiful earrings. They were shaped like hearts - have gold, half silver. THere was a pause after she gave the details. I was supposed to comment ... alot. I did.
I said 'Maybe next time it'll be jewelery for your hand' (hee hee).
She didn't 'hee hee'.
Instead she got all serious like I offended her, which surprised me because her and Boyfriend Grampa were very obviously smitten with each other. I felt bad that I hit a nerve. and was all ready to apologize. She didn't give me a chance.
'No' she said with a brand new tone, 'That won't be happening.' (Slight pause). 'I'll tell you something though, that I haven't told many. We've talked about that.'
Apparently 'that' is a secret word.
She continued ... 'I looked into things and we found out that if we *cough cough* got married, I would lose a thousand dollars a month of your grandfather's pension. IT just wouldn't be worth it'.
I simply replied 'Oh' - since I was really only trying to lighten the conversation (not deplete it from all joy). We finished our conversation and I hung up the phone.
My 'living self' began to go on a tangent. It was all in a tither. 'How could anyone think money is more important than love. Especially at their age.' Keep in mind I'm not a romantic -ey thinker. I kept on.
'They are old. They found love again. They should forget about the money and just get hitched already. If that's what they want they need to go for it! How ridiculous! They must not be that serious. They can't love eachother THAT much. Silly. How silly.'
Then as I was retelling the conversation to Wally I realized something. Gramma's 75. Boyfriend Grampa's 84. (Apparently some of her friends didn't approve ... because of the 'age difference' ... I thought old was old. I guess I was wrong.) He, Boyfriend Grampa, constantly teases that he's living on borrowed time, that he will go any day now so he's going to enjoy havin' a lady. Gramma is full of life. Never been truly sick in her life (other than when everyone else was sick that she was caring for - even that wasn't for long). Gramma could live for another 20 years easy. Statistically she will likely outlive Boyfriend Grampa. If she married him she'd lose virtually 2/3's of her income. If he died, sorry I mean when he dies, she's basically screwed.
I then was very impressed at their forethought on the matter and realized how serious they were about one another. My mother later said that Boyfriend Grampa didn't want Gramma to be put in a situation that could possibly do her financial harm for the future. My heart softened.
As I mentioned before I'm not a romantic-ey person. The only thing I romanticize is life really. You know nothing big. Not like relationships and stuff.
But when I heard about my 75 year old Gramma not feeling freedom to be able to marry her love, I felt romantic. I felt like I was witnessing a real Romeo and Juliet. Except they were 60 years older. And their families approved. Ok so maybe that's a bad comparison. But you know. Love that couldn't fully Blossom, couldn't fully be realized.
It made me sad a little.
Then Gramma said something that made me less sad. She said very practically 'It's ok. He comes over around 3 in the afternoon everyday and stays for supper. We see eachother everyday.' Gramma seemed completely satisfied with the solution.
I got to thinking. Maybe the government with all of it's pension rules knows what it's doing after all.
Keeping love young. Keeping love on fire. Keeping love waiting for the next time it will be encountered.
Well sometimes it's nice to pretend.
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