In This Moment

Today's post is my entry into this week's 100 Word Challenge, hosted by Velvet Verbosity. The 100 Word Challenge is an exercise in which we write exactly 100 words in response to the weekly prompt word. Click the link to read the other entries–good stuff over there! 

This week's prompt was "ditch". 

October rolls in, shiny and golden, leaving summer with one wheel in the ditch. We pull on our boots and hats to enjoy the fall weather after months of hiding from the sweltering heat. Suddenly the nights become cool, asking us to don fleece and flannel.

Ahead, January lies in wait, ready to complete its own seasonal cycle. But for now we bask in the unabashed natural beauty of fall; blue cloudless skies changing into lavender at sunset, trees worshipping the sun in their orange and gold frocks, leaves fluttering to the ground like autumn confetti scattered by the roadside.

How it is With Dad

So, usually, this is how my day goes. I get up when hubby leaves for work, sometime between 7 and 7:30am. I drink a big glass of water (rehydration), get a cup of coffee (preferably in a crappy give-away type mug with a computer company or radio station logo on it) and drag myself into my home office where I attempt to be spontaneously creative on either one of two levels (writing or design) depending on what is on my action list. I know that I exercise (do yoga, water aerobics or walk) almost every day at 9:30, so I attempt to make the first two hours of my day the most productive.

I have this terrible handicap of sort of having a one-track mind to a certain extent. Once I get up out of that chair and go "out" into the world, take a phone call or otherwise get distracted, I am completely unable to get back into anything else at the same level of intensity. Whether it is designing a newsletter, writing a short story, working on the blog, or working on marketing materials for my business. I am done once I stop the train. So I try to save the more mundane things for the time after my routine is broken. Like phone calls, cleaning, and family stuff.

Inevitably, like today, one or the other of my parental units will call around 8:30. When my mom calls it is just to tell me every little thing that happened to her since the previous phone call, and a lot of stuff I have heard on the previous call. This morning it was my dad. He needed a form off the internet. Now, he is 82 and runs his own business. He has a nice computer in his home office. He has internet service. He has NO idea how to use any of it. No matter how hard we have tried to teach him. So he wants to know if he can come by. So around 9am I am interrupted by a knock on the door. What he actually needs is a form that he printed to be filled out with a typewriter and returned to the state of Nevada. Hmmm.... And he wants to wait because he's "already on this side of town". NOTE: Our town is small. Really. 8 stoplights in the whole town, I think. Population around 8,000. But after living 12 hours away in Pennsylvania, we now live "all the way" across town from them. (this isn't by accident, btw) This is maybe a 10 minute drive, but terribly unappealing to my dad, a.k.a. the most impatient man on earth, because he hates the "traffic" around the town square. (which cracks me up since I spent 18 years living in Nashville where there really is traffic.) So he limits his trips. Which is apparently a major inconvenience when he needs something done at the drop of a hat.

I know the obvious solution here is to say "no", but have I mentioned that my dad was in sales almost his entire life? You do not. say. no. to this man. It doesn't work. He is the salesman every company wants and every consumer dreads. From furniture to cars to insurance, he's done it all. Except for real estate which he never considered because "it isn't an impulse buy and I don't like waiting on people." See? Impatient.

So with my day today sufficiently hi-jacked I asked him please to just leave it for me to figure out and I would run it by his house later. To which he replied, "well, I need it done today" to which I responded "well, it is only 9am, there's a lot of day left." Then, "Well, soon, OK?" me "I can't bring it until after lunch, is that soon enough?" "Oh, sure yeah, if you can't get to it until then."

My life, honestly...

Confessions

I just recently lost a lot of weight. I do not intend to get into how much, what I weigh, or how I did it. But what I will say is that I lost it all this summer, relatively quickly and it didn't involve surgery (I am too chicken) or becoming a speed-freak. Why bring it up? you might ask. Justifiably so. But there is a reason to my madness.

This isn't a "weight loss" blog, so I don't plan on getting into particulars. Bless all those ladies out there who do. Their courage amazes me. The truth is I am chicken to show before pictures. I am embarrassed to tell my beginning weight. And really? I have just lost it, I haven't maintained it for more than six weeks so I don't consider myself any kind of expert. But what I am? 14 weeks later? I am proud of myself. And I guess in my own little way, I want to let people know that of the million things I didn't accomplish this summer? I got something done that has been on my list for at least 5 years. I was never able to accomplish this much or come this far  no matter how hard I tried. And dammit, I am proud of myself.

I have "sacrificed" all summer long. I have had iron clad willpower. I have sipped on lemon water while everyone else ordered delicious looking menu items.  I missed having 'fair food' at no less than 3 county fairs (possibly a good thing), opting to bring a lunch cooler with me everywhere I went containing the likes of cucumber with mustard chicken, garlic lemon shrimp, sliced apples, and blueberries. I passed up wine at the monthly wine picnics, not to mention all the goodies brought by all my friends. I GAVE UP CHEESE, for the love of Mike!

In retrospect, it really wasn't that hard. Willpower. Food creativity. Sticking to it. Yeah, my stomach growled at me. Yeah, I got really tired of grilled chicken on a spinach salad. Yeah, I could never eat a grapefruit again and be happy. And having to plan every last meal, and needing to know what lunch was so I could get dinner started.  But what was hard? Was accepting in my own brain what was going on. It took me weeks to catch my brain up with where my body was. I'm honestly not sure I am there now.
 
I have been resisting the past several weeks. Fighting an urge to post about my loss and pat myself on the back until today. In the shower (of course), it occurred to me that it just isn't about that. I feel compelled to share this because I am changing. I am happier. I feel good about myself in the longest time. But my brain? Still doesn't get it. After my first 6 weeks' loss (which was really significant), I went into my closet thinking that everything in there probably still fit me. It took a friend saying "Girl, you need to start wearing some skinny clothes" to make me see that it didn't. I literally went through my closet and tried on every single thing until there was a pile of clothes as tall as me needing to be donated or otherwise recycled. Only then did I start getting that it was real. It was happening. People gave me clothes to fit and cover the in-between times. That was 8 weeks ago.  I have put on pair after pair of jeans this week and had to toss them in the new pile of donations. Finally last night, I went through every item in my closet again. Another pile waist high, including most of the clothing that was given to me not two months ago. And still, it is hard for me to grasp.

Don't get me wrong, I am by no means finished with my journey. And I have been so lucky to have support and encouragement from those around me. Specifically my husband, but also my 2 friends Amy and Debbie, who I told when I told no one else, and later from all my friends when it became obvious what I was doing, and most of my family. My mom of course, being who she is, expressed her disapproval of the quick losses in the beginning, waiting to tell me how proud she was until it was obvious I wasn't kidding about it this time.

But this whole process really makes me think about self-perception. When I was thin, in my younger life, I always felt fat. When I was heavy, I never saw how fat I was, I saw myself as bigger than average. And when I was fighting so hard to change, I was utterly unable to see and acknowledge the progress I was making. Even writing this today I can admit that were it not for the hoodie I put on today? The one that wrapped all the way around me? Yeah, I still wouldn't believe how much I had changed. So I started thinking during my shower, maybe it is like that with a lot of things in life. You can make changes in your life, but how long does it take you to "see" them? Or believe them? And accept them? Things like turning your life around, making a decision about a marriage ending or beginning. Accepting or leaving the church. Starting a new career. Moving to a new town and trying to fit in. Is it just a "fake it till you make it" situation?  Life is change. So why does it take us so long to catch up? Or is it just me?

Disparity

Today's post is my entry into this week's 100 Word Challenge, hosted by Velvet Verbosity. The 100 Word Challenge is an exercise in which we write exactly 100 words in response to the weekly prompt word. Click the link to read the other entries–good stuff over there! 
This week's prompt was "greater". 


Isn't it supposed to be 

what parents want for their children? 

For them to achieve something 

greater in their lifetime? 

All I want is for you to be proud 

of the way I've lived my life. 

I have struggled to be more 

positive, accepting, and educated. 

But it turns out all you want 

is for me 

to be just like you.

I am always changing and evolving, 

never the same me. 

Yet you remain the same you, 

too stubborn to change. 

You want me 

to stay the same. 

I wish you 

could change. 

In the end 

we are both 

disappointed.

Truth in Advertising

I really think I use the "LOL" way too much. Seriously. I think all these abbreviations and emoticons are causing us to bend reality just a bit. I came to this realization when I was reading a blog post today that really, truly made me laugh. Loudly and uncontrollably. Suddenly LOL just didn't seem enough anymore.

I realized that sometimes I read something that will make me smile. Sometimes it causes me to do that silent laugh thing. And occasionally I will do a soft chuckle. But rarely do I EVER truly laugh out loud. And I will still comment "LOL". So is it a lie to post LOL? When I didn't really laugh out loud? It is definitely an exaggeration. Or am I just overthinking?

I think I am going to lobby the general public for a couple of additions to the internet vernacular:

SLTS (Silently Laughing to Self)
YMMS (You Made Me Smile) or maybe just MMS (Made Me Smile)
GFAC (Good for a Chuckle)
RDLOL (Really Did Laugh out Loud)
MMLAS (Made Me Laugh and Snort)
JCSL (Just Cackled So Loud)
SCOMM (Spit Coffee On My Monitor) or the alternate SCOMN (Spit Coffee Out My Nose)

Anyway, spread the word. I am launching a one woman campaign for Emotional Truth on the Internet. There will be a day. Maybe even a telethon. It will be huge. Al Gore is at the ready. So is Brad Pitt.

PS–Can you tell I am doing some serious procrastinating ?

Your Love is Like a Red, Red Rose

Thanks to Judy over at Zebra Sounds, I found this beautiful piece of poetry. Check her out, she always posts a Five on Friday with the most interesting things that I never would have found on my own.


The poetry is from the mind of WordsWorthInc, which I was visiting for the first time, but I am sure I will be back another day. I am in awe about how ordinarily he captured extraordinary love. Please take a look at his site. Good stuff.


I rarely wax poetic about my beloved hubby and our relationship. I am just not into mushy, gushy sayings and love poems. I am not a "thine eyes are like a starry night..." kinda gal. I feel like we show each other our love every day in our actions, words and touches. 


But this verse below? It is the perfect sentiment for how I feel about him.

Verse: Song

there are

many songs

i sing

but yours

is the only one

I know by heart

and i sing it

always

every day

softly

when you

are here

and loudly

when you

are gone

to fill

the space

without you

everything i love

in this world

is contained in

that song.

My So-Called Life

My mom always came up with plenty of creative activities to keep us busy. She was home with us until we were both in school. And even then she was always home with us after school. She hosted Girl Scout meetings and birthday cookouts, Halloween parties and sleepovers. We did crafts, went for walks and gardened with her. I say all this because I just don't remember being one of those kids who was put in front of the television as a way of being kept occupied. Of course the best we had back then was View Master anyway. Yes, kiddies, this was pre-VCR, Beta, DVD, etc. ('Cause I'm young like that.) Anyway, my mom was always involved with us. Despite all that, despite my love of reading, maybe even because of it, I became enamored with the television and everything it stood for. I grew up on television.

I was a voracious reader from a very young age. My parents rarely read anything other than sales journals, magazines or the bible. (yep, Palin-style). They didn't ever get, and don't to this day, my love of books. But my mom did her best to keep me stocked up on Whitman books and anything else age-appropriate that should could buy second-hand. Some of those book I remember reading 3 or 4 times at least. Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, Trixie Belden, they were oldies but I loved them. I had bookshelves in my room stocked to the rafters. But when I ran out of something to read, and I did frequently, I watched television.

I became embroiled in the happenings, attached to the characters knew the weekly schedules by heart. Of course, in the pre-cable stone age we only had 5 channels and that included PBS but still. (UHF!!! Right?!) I remember watching Wide, Wide World of Sports on Sunday afternoon. I remember being allowed to stay up "late" (past 9) for Carol Burnett on Saturday nights. And who could forget the movies every Sunday evening on The Wonderful World of Disney? Just seeing Tinkerbelle fly across the screen you knew this was something you were watching just for you. A kid. Once a week.

Afternoons after school it was Gilligan's Island, The Brady Bunch and a whole load of cartoons like Tom & Jerry and Woody Woodpecker. And through the week I watched things like Happy Days, Welcome Back Kotter, and Little House on the Prarie. Back then, there was little that was off limits. But there was only 1 TV in the house. And believe me, if dad didn't want to watch it I didn't see it. There was no TiVo or DVR.

I always wanted to be on television when I was a kid. Not an actor–literally in a television show. At Al's with Richie Cunningham, or the basement apartment from Laverne and Shirley, or on the island with Robinson Crusoe.  I wanted a cool mom and dad like Mike and Carol Brady (although now that seems debatable, the cool part). I wanted to go live with Doris Day and her father and that big, shaggy dog Nelson. Sometimes I pretended I was in those shows. I wished I could do magic like Samantha and Tabitha.

To this day I have issues with expecting life to be like a television show. Nice and tidy, all wrapped up within 60 minutes or less. Problems should resolve, hijinx should ensue, or magic should happen. My friends should be like Monica and Rachel. ('cause let's face it, I am the Phoebe here). My workplace should be like Ally McBeal's, filled with interesting and unusual characters. But alas. Life is life, I really do realize that. I do have to go to WalMart. I don't have money for that fabulous feather wreath I found. My husband, though he loves me more than life itself, doesn't know how to do "romantic gestures".  I have a mountain of bills to pay.

So what if my mom is more like Roseanne than Doris Day? So what if my friends are more like Designing Women than Sex and the City. This life of mine? It is all I have. I am learning to appreciate everything and everyone in it. One of the hardest things in the world? Accepting people for who they are, where they are. I really do like my life, but I still wouldn't mind living in the TV for a week or so. Especially since we haven't had a vacation in 2 years. My life...