Living Testament
My 32nd birthday is just around the bend, so it seems like a good time for a State of the Union entry.
My friends and fellow bloggers, let me begin by saying that the state of the union (of my mind, body, and soul) is strong! [Wild applause; standing ovation]
After the catastrophes of emotional war (known simply as "The Debacle"), I have gained the upperhand on the battlefields, the only casualties being unhelpful paradigms and misguided expectations and hopes. I mourned those, now let the rejoicing that comes with letting go commence. [rousing applause]
Okay, in all seriousness, my heart, head, and body all seem to be in a good place, at the same time. Unprecedented. I can say, with all sincerity, what does not kill you does indeed make you stronger.
I'm grateful for the peace I have....about everything...I'm glad to go home tonight, walk my dog, and do laundry. It's a blessing that such a lovely, uncomplicated evening awaits me. Things are good. So good.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Two for the Seesaw
I watched this 1962 Relationship Drama (pre "romantic comedy" era) starring Shirley Maclaine and Robert Mitchum last night. I'd only seen the last five minutes of it, about a year ago, before last night. I was so intrigued by the final bit, that I've been wanting to purchase it since. I grew weary of waiting for Amazon.com to have it in stock again, so I asked Catchka to order it for me via Ebay.
Revolutionary in its candor and smart in its assessment of the way men and women "work" in relationships, I am glad that it's among the collection of films I own. One of the lines that really hooked me is when Robert Mitchum's character says "Make a claim on a main; he may just surprise you." The dialogue between the two principal characters is disarming and unaffected. I appreciated the subdued, steady hum of Mitchum's lines to Maclaine's borderline histrionic replies.
Before that, though, I did a truncated workout. The dog surveyed this activity for about five minutes then left the room, figuring, I guess, that she would leave me to my mania. I think that's a new level of intimacy for us.
I watched this 1962 Relationship Drama (pre "romantic comedy" era) starring Shirley Maclaine and Robert Mitchum last night. I'd only seen the last five minutes of it, about a year ago, before last night. I was so intrigued by the final bit, that I've been wanting to purchase it since. I grew weary of waiting for Amazon.com to have it in stock again, so I asked Catchka to order it for me via Ebay.
Revolutionary in its candor and smart in its assessment of the way men and women "work" in relationships, I am glad that it's among the collection of films I own. One of the lines that really hooked me is when Robert Mitchum's character says "Make a claim on a main; he may just surprise you." The dialogue between the two principal characters is disarming and unaffected. I appreciated the subdued, steady hum of Mitchum's lines to Maclaine's borderline histrionic replies.
Before that, though, I did a truncated workout. The dog surveyed this activity for about five minutes then left the room, figuring, I guess, that she would leave me to my mania. I think that's a new level of intimacy for us.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Decisions, Decisions, Decisions...
I ultimately want to make a living on my own terms. To that end, I have decided that freelance editing may be my ticket out of the 9 to 5 grind. I'm formulating a plan to drum up business via advertising; I'll join forces with Sarah, editor extraordinnaire, and keep my day job until we develop a solid client base.
On other fronts, once I reach my goal weight (am about 42 pounds shy of that now), I am going to sign up with some type of dating service. I'm at that age where love is more a practical matter than one of serendipity. I had hoped it wouldn't come to this; the idea of a dating service (0nline or otherwise) was never my "thing," but "my thing" is decidedly ineffective.
Of course 42 pounds is another 3 to 6 months away, so a lot can happen between now and then, but at this point, that's my resolution. To take steps to get the life and love I want.
I ultimately want to make a living on my own terms. To that end, I have decided that freelance editing may be my ticket out of the 9 to 5 grind. I'm formulating a plan to drum up business via advertising; I'll join forces with Sarah, editor extraordinnaire, and keep my day job until we develop a solid client base.
On other fronts, once I reach my goal weight (am about 42 pounds shy of that now), I am going to sign up with some type of dating service. I'm at that age where love is more a practical matter than one of serendipity. I had hoped it wouldn't come to this; the idea of a dating service (0nline or otherwise) was never my "thing," but "my thing" is decidedly ineffective.
Of course 42 pounds is another 3 to 6 months away, so a lot can happen between now and then, but at this point, that's my resolution. To take steps to get the life and love I want.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
The Woody Lissauer performance in Hampden was thoroughly enjoyable. Sarah works with the artist's gf, which is how we found out about the event, held in the same locale as a few poetry events I've attended. I munched on ginger snaps and enjoyed three glasses of wine during his vocals/guitar driven set.
Before the night was over I had not only purchased one of his cds, but I also told the proprietor of the Minas Gallery that I was interested in purchasing one of his paintings entitled Memory Lapse. He'll contact me in about a month about it. It's abstract; very vibrant.
I dreamed about g in stunning clarity. We were out walking dogs (I was walking Babygirl, naturally; I am always walking her in my dreams now) in the countryside, our situation being very much what it is in real life--that he is engaged to be married--the subject was not discussed, but it was just beneath the surface of our words. Instead, he said to me, "It looks like Prince William is ready for his nap." This was supposed to suggest that he'd stopped acting immaturely. I wondered at the incongruity, since William is always presented as the straightlaced, mature one. I did't say anything, though, except, "I thought he was getting married." G had all kinds of inside information about the ceremony, for example, the reasons it was legally required to take place in Maryland.
Then he asked me when my birthday is. I told him September 4th, and he said we should get together for it sometime soon, that it would "count" as a birthday celebration.
The dream lacked the ambiguity, distant surrealist quality so many dreams have. I saw him and myself as crisp, distinct figures. His face was his actual face, not an abstracted or representational image of the face I know. He was wearing a jacket that I have seen him wear, and the interaction between us was fairly typical, in tone, to many we've had in the past.
I'm meeting my good friend and fellow poet C for brunch; I need to get dressed...
Before the night was over I had not only purchased one of his cds, but I also told the proprietor of the Minas Gallery that I was interested in purchasing one of his paintings entitled Memory Lapse. He'll contact me in about a month about it. It's abstract; very vibrant.
I dreamed about g in stunning clarity. We were out walking dogs (I was walking Babygirl, naturally; I am always walking her in my dreams now) in the countryside, our situation being very much what it is in real life--that he is engaged to be married--the subject was not discussed, but it was just beneath the surface of our words. Instead, he said to me, "It looks like Prince William is ready for his nap." This was supposed to suggest that he'd stopped acting immaturely. I wondered at the incongruity, since William is always presented as the straightlaced, mature one. I did't say anything, though, except, "I thought he was getting married." G had all kinds of inside information about the ceremony, for example, the reasons it was legally required to take place in Maryland.
Then he asked me when my birthday is. I told him September 4th, and he said we should get together for it sometime soon, that it would "count" as a birthday celebration.
The dream lacked the ambiguity, distant surrealist quality so many dreams have. I saw him and myself as crisp, distinct figures. His face was his actual face, not an abstracted or representational image of the face I know. He was wearing a jacket that I have seen him wear, and the interaction between us was fairly typical, in tone, to many we've had in the past.
I'm meeting my good friend and fellow poet C for brunch; I need to get dressed...
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Finally saw "Must Love Dogs." It was okay. Time with Sarah was tremendous. We finished up the day at my apartment after scoring green tea frappes from Starbucks. I went to the gym after she left and paid for that and for the hot dog and Reese's Pieces I ate as lunch (no time to eat before the movie).
What is it about Saturday? I feel like I could sleep all day. After Bg and I returned from her morning walk, we got back into bed, and it was a big struggle for me to get out of bed just now, two hours later. A crazy mishmash of dreams. I need to put on some coffee, I think.
I really need to clean up, too. But after the gym. They are going to be closed, starting this coming Monday through next Monday, September 5th. I have to make today and tomorrow count.
This evening, I'm to join Sarah and Michael at the consignment shoppe/art house venue in Hampden that hosts poetry readings and performances. A music group is playing there tonight.
What is it about Saturday? I feel like I could sleep all day. After Bg and I returned from her morning walk, we got back into bed, and it was a big struggle for me to get out of bed just now, two hours later. A crazy mishmash of dreams. I need to put on some coffee, I think.
I really need to clean up, too. But after the gym. They are going to be closed, starting this coming Monday through next Monday, September 5th. I have to make today and tomorrow count.
This evening, I'm to join Sarah and Michael at the consignment shoppe/art house venue in Hampden that hosts poetry readings and performances. A music group is playing there tonight.
Friday, August 26, 2005
My stepfather, with whom I have had a strained relationship for several years, called me last night. I was genuinely glad to hear from him; today is his birthday, and I wanted to telephone him, but didn't want to go through the rigamarole of pinning my mother down long enough to give me his number. Our chat was brief, but satisfying.
His call interrupted a long overdue conversation I was having with Naomi of New Mexico. She was telling me all about her newish kitten and how it's a handful. I've pretty much decided that once Babyg leaves, I am not going to get a pet of my own. I'm so glad I waited. It's good to think things through, I guess.
Today is another half day for me, but instead of coming right home, I'm doing lunch and a movie with Sarah. So looking forward to seeing her.
His call interrupted a long overdue conversation I was having with Naomi of New Mexico. She was telling me all about her newish kitten and how it's a handful. I've pretty much decided that once Babyg leaves, I am not going to get a pet of my own. I'm so glad I waited. It's good to think things through, I guess.
Today is another half day for me, but instead of coming right home, I'm doing lunch and a movie with Sarah. So looking forward to seeing her.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
My half day at the office is nearly over. I've done a bit of work, had a meeting, and grazed on high fiber cereal, and about an hour later the smallest bit of salmon left over from yesterday's lunch. There is a chill in the air most mornings that says fall is coming. I love autumn, but it's arrival is both happy and sad this year.
I can't wait to get home and walk the dog. I am starting to get used to her being around. Not so used to it that I won't be relieved, on most levels, when it's time for my mom to reclaim her...but used to her enough that I already know how much I'll miss her when she's no longer there. It's so comforting to have her around, following me in and out of rooms...knowing that she depends on me to meet her needs, knowing that i'm meeting them, and that she feels comfortable with me and trusts me. But I've become practiced in the art of watching people leave my life. It's still hard though. I'm starting to hate arrivals because of the impending departures that are suggested in them.
It occurs to me that she is the stopgap between my sister's time with me and my time alone, another indication of God's grace.
I can't wait to get home and walk the dog. I am starting to get used to her being around. Not so used to it that I won't be relieved, on most levels, when it's time for my mom to reclaim her...but used to her enough that I already know how much I'll miss her when she's no longer there. It's so comforting to have her around, following me in and out of rooms...knowing that she depends on me to meet her needs, knowing that i'm meeting them, and that she feels comfortable with me and trusts me. But I've become practiced in the art of watching people leave my life. It's still hard though. I'm starting to hate arrivals because of the impending departures that are suggested in them.
It occurs to me that she is the stopgap between my sister's time with me and my time alone, another indication of God's grace.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
So pleased that my computer monitor was repositioned. Now my back is not facing the entry way of my cube. It didn't occur to me that it could be any other way until I saw a newer employee's configuration. Sometimes the slightest change yields a big dividend.
A beast of a project is waiting on my desk. Must go.
A beast of a project is waiting on my desk. Must go.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Who Moved My [Reduced Fat] Cheese?
My mother brought me her copy of this book to read the weekend before last (when she came to pick up some of my sister's stuff, see the dog, etc.). I'd seen it at her house on several occasions, and had even thumbed through it once or twice. It's a slim volume, but I hadn't troubled myself to actually read it.
Last night, after the gym, I cracked it open. I am pleased to report that while I used to be one to sit in a cheeseless spot of the maze, I have now gone off in search of New Cheese. And that is the crux. The Cheese will always eventually be moved. Don't sit there wondering what happened to it. Go find a new source.
Hope I didn't ruin anything for anybody out there.
Other items of note:
The dog doesn't seem as depressed about Caryl's absence (they've spoken briefly on the phone since she left); she and I got in some extra special cuddling on the couch while I watched the UPN Monday night lineup, read said book, and ate my portabella soy burger.
I'm working half days on Thursday and Friday this week. I'll come home and see the little wonder, take her out for an extra walk (she'll still fully expect her 5:30 walk, as well she should), and just laze about with her. Maybe I'll get some writing done, too.
My mother brought me her copy of this book to read the weekend before last (when she came to pick up some of my sister's stuff, see the dog, etc.). I'd seen it at her house on several occasions, and had even thumbed through it once or twice. It's a slim volume, but I hadn't troubled myself to actually read it.
Last night, after the gym, I cracked it open. I am pleased to report that while I used to be one to sit in a cheeseless spot of the maze, I have now gone off in search of New Cheese. And that is the crux. The Cheese will always eventually be moved. Don't sit there wondering what happened to it. Go find a new source.
Hope I didn't ruin anything for anybody out there.
Other items of note:
The dog doesn't seem as depressed about Caryl's absence (they've spoken briefly on the phone since she left); she and I got in some extra special cuddling on the couch while I watched the UPN Monday night lineup, read said book, and ate my portabella soy burger.
I'm working half days on Thursday and Friday this week. I'll come home and see the little wonder, take her out for an extra walk (she'll still fully expect her 5:30 walk, as well she should), and just laze about with her. Maybe I'll get some writing done, too.
Monday, August 22, 2005
92 Days
For the last 92 days, My sister and I shared my bed. I don't have a guest room, and I didn't want her to have to bunk on the couch for an extended period. I didn't mind at all. I understood when I proposed that she live and work with me in the city that this is what it would mean. I, who am usually so insistent on space, welcomed the invasion of another person and her stuff into my limited square footage because I knew we were going to have a blast.
Having her here was God's providence. Literally, on the morning of her first full day, the news of G's engagement broke. I remember thinking...no...knowing that God, in his grace, had allowed that information to be held back until I had the balm of my sister's presence and her sage advice and counsel. She is not yet 20 (but will be this Thursday), but her insight is resonant and seasoned with a compelling wisdom. And she is just silly.
Over the course of the summer I came to see her as a kind of 'evil genius.' Her acerbic running commentary on the inanity of the world, her dead-on impersonations of people, the ongoing comedic monologues she would do from the perspective of celebrities or just random people we'd see on the street was both arrestingly funny and indicative of a keen intellect.
With few exceptions, we ate lunch together every day at 11 a.m. Several times during the day, we visited each other's desks on official business (our departments were exclusive, so this business was the officical business of being sisters), and on truly silly errands. Occasionally, she would IM me to do her bidding (bring me some water!), or she would happen by my desk while I was away, and leave non sequitir-ish post-it notes. I need Coffee! Come see me Immediately! Her notes always bore a skewed happy face... the quasi pissed, somewhat surprised face.
I know I annoyed her with my insistence on punctuality, my obsessive planning for every contingency. She'd just look at me with not a little pity, and explain to me that she was going to do things her way, and still they would turn out all right.
I did not insist that she start packing on Friday night, or Saturday, or Sunday in the morning after brunch. This is one time, I fully encouraged her procrastination. Finally, the time came, though.
The dog and I went down to say good-bye to her, my mom, and my mom's friend. Then Babygirl and I walked on, continuing on our evening jaunt. She kept looking back for Caryl to join us. Then, once back at home, she trotted through rooms looking for her heart (that is what Caryl is to this dog; they adore each other), sniffng the hardwood as though trying to catch the remnants her scent.
"She's gone, baby," is all I could think to say.
I woke up this morning with baby curled up by my side. She'd edged closer during the night, I guess, taking up the space my sister occupied for the last three months.
For the last 92 days, My sister and I shared my bed. I don't have a guest room, and I didn't want her to have to bunk on the couch for an extended period. I didn't mind at all. I understood when I proposed that she live and work with me in the city that this is what it would mean. I, who am usually so insistent on space, welcomed the invasion of another person and her stuff into my limited square footage because I knew we were going to have a blast.
Having her here was God's providence. Literally, on the morning of her first full day, the news of G's engagement broke. I remember thinking...no...knowing that God, in his grace, had allowed that information to be held back until I had the balm of my sister's presence and her sage advice and counsel. She is not yet 20 (but will be this Thursday), but her insight is resonant and seasoned with a compelling wisdom. And she is just silly.
Over the course of the summer I came to see her as a kind of 'evil genius.' Her acerbic running commentary on the inanity of the world, her dead-on impersonations of people, the ongoing comedic monologues she would do from the perspective of celebrities or just random people we'd see on the street was both arrestingly funny and indicative of a keen intellect.
With few exceptions, we ate lunch together every day at 11 a.m. Several times during the day, we visited each other's desks on official business (our departments were exclusive, so this business was the officical business of being sisters), and on truly silly errands. Occasionally, she would IM me to do her bidding (bring me some water!), or she would happen by my desk while I was away, and leave non sequitir-ish post-it notes. I need Coffee! Come see me Immediately! Her notes always bore a skewed happy face... the quasi pissed, somewhat surprised face.
I know I annoyed her with my insistence on punctuality, my obsessive planning for every contingency. She'd just look at me with not a little pity, and explain to me that she was going to do things her way, and still they would turn out all right.
I did not insist that she start packing on Friday night, or Saturday, or Sunday in the morning after brunch. This is one time, I fully encouraged her procrastination. Finally, the time came, though.
The dog and I went down to say good-bye to her, my mom, and my mom's friend. Then Babygirl and I walked on, continuing on our evening jaunt. She kept looking back for Caryl to join us. Then, once back at home, she trotted through rooms looking for her heart (that is what Caryl is to this dog; they adore each other), sniffng the hardwood as though trying to catch the remnants her scent.
"She's gone, baby," is all I could think to say.
I woke up this morning with baby curled up by my side. She'd edged closer during the night, I guess, taking up the space my sister occupied for the last three months.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
The movie was genuinely funny... not just crass, though it was certainly that in many places; not just boy humour, thought it was that, too, in several places; not just about being deflowered, though that does happen, naturally. An older couple left about 15 minutes into the movie. I have to wonder what they were thinking by choosing this particular film...what were they expecting? But really, all in all, I thought it was a thinking person's raunchy comedy.
BabyG and I awoke at 6:30, an hour later than usual in honour of the weekend, and went for our morning walk, afterwhich we crawled back into bed with Caryl (the three of us all sleep in one bed) and went back to sleep for two more hours. We breakfasted on turkey bacon, eggs, and chai tea. Baby just ate her doggie treats, which to her are so commonplace, she sees them as a very par for the course occurrence.
Delighted by a five pound drop, I hustled to the gym. On my way back to the apartment, I was greeted by my two roommates who were on their way out for walk #2 of the day. I joined them for an extra long jaunt to some new places and new grass that BabyGirl had yet to explore.
Caryl and I lunched at the One World. I had a delightful tuna on multigrain bread with wasabi mayo and China Jasmine green tea. We didn't talk much over the meal, just kind of observed the interaction between a young mom and her precocious daughter.
The afternoon has been all about lounging while watching Napoleon D, reading, and another quick turn around the neighborhood for the dog. I firmly believe that canines need a lot of exercise, and the weekends are a good time to shower the one in my charge with all the fresh air she can handle. I always feel so guilty for the amount of time she has to just wait here in the apartment while I'm at work...I leave the television on for her so she can have the comfort of voices. I don't know if it matters to her or not, but I feel better for doing it.
Ah well. It seems that Caryl and I will spend the night burning cds for her and doing laundry.
BabyG and I awoke at 6:30, an hour later than usual in honour of the weekend, and went for our morning walk, afterwhich we crawled back into bed with Caryl (the three of us all sleep in one bed) and went back to sleep for two more hours. We breakfasted on turkey bacon, eggs, and chai tea. Baby just ate her doggie treats, which to her are so commonplace, she sees them as a very par for the course occurrence.
Delighted by a five pound drop, I hustled to the gym. On my way back to the apartment, I was greeted by my two roommates who were on their way out for walk #2 of the day. I joined them for an extra long jaunt to some new places and new grass that BabyGirl had yet to explore.
Caryl and I lunched at the One World. I had a delightful tuna on multigrain bread with wasabi mayo and China Jasmine green tea. We didn't talk much over the meal, just kind of observed the interaction between a young mom and her precocious daughter.
The afternoon has been all about lounging while watching Napoleon D, reading, and another quick turn around the neighborhood for the dog. I firmly believe that canines need a lot of exercise, and the weekends are a good time to shower the one in my charge with all the fresh air she can handle. I always feel so guilty for the amount of time she has to just wait here in the apartment while I'm at work...I leave the television on for her so she can have the comfort of voices. I don't know if it matters to her or not, but I feel better for doing it.
Ah well. It seems that Caryl and I will spend the night burning cds for her and doing laundry.
Friday, August 19, 2005
T Minus 1 Hour and 5 Minutes
The end of our last workday of Summer 2005 together. Tonight the Caryl-one and I will go to see this comedy; tomorrow it’s all practical stuff like laundry and brushing the dog’s teeth…the sadness of packing. Sunday, we brunch with Sarah, and at some point later in the day, my nearly-20-year-old-sister will leave after 3 months of being my roommate. A quarter of a year. It passed quickly, but it’s a significant chunk of time.
As an early birthday present, I picked up a copy of the coveted Napoleon Dynamite DVD and 2 slices of cheesecake (one cherry, one carrot) from The Cheesecake Factory, and gave them to her at lunchtime.
Fortunately, Catherine left me several books I can read for the next couple of weeks before school starts. They’ll take my mind off missing her so much… and Miss Babygirl will certainly keep me on my toes. I’m sure I’ll miss her like the dickens in about a month’s time, too.
The end of our last workday of Summer 2005 together. Tonight the Caryl-one and I will go to see this comedy; tomorrow it’s all practical stuff like laundry and brushing the dog’s teeth…the sadness of packing. Sunday, we brunch with Sarah, and at some point later in the day, my nearly-20-year-old-sister will leave after 3 months of being my roommate. A quarter of a year. It passed quickly, but it’s a significant chunk of time.
As an early birthday present, I picked up a copy of the coveted Napoleon Dynamite DVD and 2 slices of cheesecake (one cherry, one carrot) from The Cheesecake Factory, and gave them to her at lunchtime.
Fortunately, Catherine left me several books I can read for the next couple of weeks before school starts. They’ll take my mind off missing her so much… and Miss Babygirl will certainly keep me on my toes. I’m sure I’ll miss her like the dickens in about a month’s time, too.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Impromptu
So, E calls yesterday and mentions how much she is in the mood to go back to Chiaparelli's in the near future. Since Caryl and I had planned to go there for lunch this week, I suggest to E that we go for dinner on Wednesday night, instead. It's a plan, we conclude.
This evening, she picks us up in her burgundy Explorer and couriers us down there where we met up with her sister. I see E's manager pal again. No major sparkage this time. He's a sweet guy, totally friendly, and just as personable as ever, but it is what it was, and that is cool with me. You may be thinking 'no, duh,' but trust me, in the past I have gotten invested way quick on less than sparkage. I like this new, zen me, who responds appropriately and proportionately to mundane things that would have wrenched me in the past. I see this guy not being interested in me in the light of day, and I don't mind...any part of it...in truth, I'm not interested either, and that's not Sour Grapes talking.
By the by, I have some sumptuous leftovers for tomorrow.
In other news, I think I've lost a few pounds. And Babygirl, now that I've learned how to control her little self, was a champ on her walk tonight. Yes, that's right, I'm the Alpha in this pack.
So, E calls yesterday and mentions how much she is in the mood to go back to Chiaparelli's in the near future. Since Caryl and I had planned to go there for lunch this week, I suggest to E that we go for dinner on Wednesday night, instead. It's a plan, we conclude.
This evening, she picks us up in her burgundy Explorer and couriers us down there where we met up with her sister. I see E's manager pal again. No major sparkage this time. He's a sweet guy, totally friendly, and just as personable as ever, but it is what it was, and that is cool with me. You may be thinking 'no, duh,' but trust me, in the past I have gotten invested way quick on less than sparkage. I like this new, zen me, who responds appropriately and proportionately to mundane things that would have wrenched me in the past. I see this guy not being interested in me in the light of day, and I don't mind...any part of it...in truth, I'm not interested either, and that's not Sour Grapes talking.
By the by, I have some sumptuous leftovers for tomorrow.
In other news, I think I've lost a few pounds. And Babygirl, now that I've learned how to control her little self, was a champ on her walk tonight. Yes, that's right, I'm the Alpha in this pack.
Short Leash
The dog, Babygirl, really acted out last night. She is, by nature, improperly socialized when it comes to other dogs, and most people not in our immediate family. Walking her in the afternoon, or even at night, when it's still relatively early, is always at least a little stressful. Last night, she lunged at no fewer than 3 passersby, and really went bonkers upon seeing two dogs who were with their owners.
Caryl takes our walks with us, save for the one we take at the unpopulated hour of 5:45 a.m., which is my favourite, because it is not at all uncommon for us to not see another living soul. Caryl has been trying to give me pointers about to demonstrate authority with the dog, how to restrain her when she is deliberately flouting authority, etc.
After her deplorable actions last night, when we got back in, I was truly pissed. So pissed I started regretting that I've taken her in for the month...In any case, Babygirl inside is a docile lap dog. Truly unassuming, willing, affectionate. All of it. So hard to reconcile that with her growling, posturing, lunging outside self.
This morning, I was dreading taking her out. Just dreading it. But I figured that given how much she was let know that last night was unacceptable, and a lack of other animal and human beings for her to terrorize, she was likely to be better behaved. I kept her leash short, wasn't very indulgent with letting her linger, pointlessly, and insisted that she match my pace, not the other way around.
This is like having a child.
The dog, Babygirl, really acted out last night. She is, by nature, improperly socialized when it comes to other dogs, and most people not in our immediate family. Walking her in the afternoon, or even at night, when it's still relatively early, is always at least a little stressful. Last night, she lunged at no fewer than 3 passersby, and really went bonkers upon seeing two dogs who were with their owners.
Caryl takes our walks with us, save for the one we take at the unpopulated hour of 5:45 a.m., which is my favourite, because it is not at all uncommon for us to not see another living soul. Caryl has been trying to give me pointers about to demonstrate authority with the dog, how to restrain her when she is deliberately flouting authority, etc.
After her deplorable actions last night, when we got back in, I was truly pissed. So pissed I started regretting that I've taken her in for the month...In any case, Babygirl inside is a docile lap dog. Truly unassuming, willing, affectionate. All of it. So hard to reconcile that with her growling, posturing, lunging outside self.
This morning, I was dreading taking her out. Just dreading it. But I figured that given how much she was let know that last night was unacceptable, and a lack of other animal and human beings for her to terrorize, she was likely to be better behaved. I kept her leash short, wasn't very indulgent with letting her linger, pointlessly, and insisted that she match my pace, not the other way around.
This is like having a child.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Presenting an accurate picture...
It's not all gloom and doom in the Krupnik household. Caryl has been making cryptic comments lately, things like "I know something you don't know," and "you'll be very happy near the beginning of the week." I'd been good-naturely smiling and blowing it off. She says things like that fairly often, so I thought nothing of it.
I didn't even think anything of it when she was curiously invested in what I was wearing yesterday morning (I worked from home; she took the day off), and with whether or not I showered. I suited up, at one point, to go to the gym, and she cautioned against it. I remembered briefly her "I know something you don't know"s for the last couple of weeks, and thought there might be a connection. 'Wow, she is taking this pretty far,' I thought.
In a spirit of compromise, I asked her if I could at least go the gym to re-up my membership, but not workout, at least not until later. She cocked her head to one side and pondered this for about 10 seconds. She made the allowance, and I left the apartment with my university ID and a check for the correct amount in hand.
I could see ahead of me in the distance, a young woman dressed in a summery skirt. She reminded me of someone I knew. I thought it was a remarkable resemblance, really. Her walk was just like Catherine's (Catchka), I mused, then dismissed the thought. As I got closer to this person, I saw her smile. It was Catherine, who lives in Boston, headed right toward me.
We collapsed into laughter and hugs, and I was so thrilled to see her that I nearly cried!
She walked with me to reup my gym membership, then I took her back to the apartment to meet the dog (who is fickle, at best, in her acceptance of strangers) who loved her! Once back inside, I changed clothes and the three of us headed to Hampden for a Mexican lunch at Holy Frijoles. For a long time, we were the only ones there... We sat near the window, people watching, and eating our taco salads. She planned the trip about two months ago, and has been keeping it from me since. In town for a week, with a very full docket of social outings, she earmarked yesterday to lunch with moi.
On the way back to my place, we stopped at the grocery store to pick up ice cream and cones.
Catherine left at about 2:00 p.m. She was like this brilliant shooting star. I had to convince myself that I'd actually seen her...that she had really been there....
It's not all gloom and doom in the Krupnik household. Caryl has been making cryptic comments lately, things like "I know something you don't know," and "you'll be very happy near the beginning of the week." I'd been good-naturely smiling and blowing it off. She says things like that fairly often, so I thought nothing of it.
I didn't even think anything of it when she was curiously invested in what I was wearing yesterday morning (I worked from home; she took the day off), and with whether or not I showered. I suited up, at one point, to go to the gym, and she cautioned against it. I remembered briefly her "I know something you don't know"s for the last couple of weeks, and thought there might be a connection. 'Wow, she is taking this pretty far,' I thought.
In a spirit of compromise, I asked her if I could at least go the gym to re-up my membership, but not workout, at least not until later. She cocked her head to one side and pondered this for about 10 seconds. She made the allowance, and I left the apartment with my university ID and a check for the correct amount in hand.
I could see ahead of me in the distance, a young woman dressed in a summery skirt. She reminded me of someone I knew. I thought it was a remarkable resemblance, really. Her walk was just like Catherine's (Catchka), I mused, then dismissed the thought. As I got closer to this person, I saw her smile. It was Catherine, who lives in Boston, headed right toward me.
We collapsed into laughter and hugs, and I was so thrilled to see her that I nearly cried!
She walked with me to reup my gym membership, then I took her back to the apartment to meet the dog (who is fickle, at best, in her acceptance of strangers) who loved her! Once back inside, I changed clothes and the three of us headed to Hampden for a Mexican lunch at Holy Frijoles. For a long time, we were the only ones there... We sat near the window, people watching, and eating our taco salads. She planned the trip about two months ago, and has been keeping it from me since. In town for a week, with a very full docket of social outings, she earmarked yesterday to lunch with moi.
On the way back to my place, we stopped at the grocery store to pick up ice cream and cones.
Catherine left at about 2:00 p.m. She was like this brilliant shooting star. I had to convince myself that I'd actually seen her...that she had really been there....
I had another post in mind for today...
What I did not plan on was chronicling this feeling of impending sadness. Caryl and I will go to work together only four more times, then the weekend, then Sunday afternoon/evening, and the dog and I will watch her ride away with my mom and Jim.
In a premature declaration of healing a few weeks back, I proclaimed to Caryl "I really am over him!" The thought had hit me like the solution to a particularly difficult equation with more than one variable. I. am. over. him. And I didn't feel smug or superior; I didn't feel bitter. I simply felt free. Caryl looked at me earnestly and said "No. Not yet. You still love him."
Now, I am old enough and sophisticated enough to understand the distinction between still loving someone and being over him. I know they are not mutually exclusive, but I also know what my sister was getting at, with even greater clarity now, than I did at the time.
On Saturday night I came across a picture that was fairly indicative of the best of his silly side, but one that I had not previously seen. I was poking around the Internet...on a whim, I did a more tailored search, and it yielded the photo. I know. I know. The fact that his name still comes easily to my fingertips for the purpose of Web searches is obviously telling. But believe me; it was spontaneous. I didn't expect to find much...and I had searched for others in a similar fashion.
Anyway, that photo knocked me down. It was the representation of all that was familiar to me and known by me about him...but represented, equally, something undiscovered and new, though it was from a time in our friendship when things were the best they ever would or could be, between us.
On Sunday morning, over coffee and grits, I stared at Caryl blankly. I. still. love. him. I miss him. I miss knowing that person from the photo. He will be married in two months. It would be one thing if the epiphany had visited itself upon me when I had the comfort of his ambiguous singleness, but he is soon to be legally, spiritually, and emotionally connected to another woman. I have too much self-respect to long for someone who is lost to me, which is why it's important to note the almost academic, intellectual nature of this realization...
This isn't pining. This isn't hope. It's just the bald fact that beneath the first excavated layer of grief, there is still this....this indomitable remnant.
Walking the dog this morning at the lonely hour of 5:30, I stared down my arch nemesis. The next layer of grief, far less prosaic than candid sadness... this foe is formless and has no direct object, and does not mourn the actual loss, but more pointedly the elemental, irreducible, singular points of passion...that which is pure essence. The part of loving someone else that we, ourselves, can never understand. This grief is my new houseguest.
What I did not plan on was chronicling this feeling of impending sadness. Caryl and I will go to work together only four more times, then the weekend, then Sunday afternoon/evening, and the dog and I will watch her ride away with my mom and Jim.
In a premature declaration of healing a few weeks back, I proclaimed to Caryl "I really am over him!" The thought had hit me like the solution to a particularly difficult equation with more than one variable. I. am. over. him. And I didn't feel smug or superior; I didn't feel bitter. I simply felt free. Caryl looked at me earnestly and said "No. Not yet. You still love him."
Now, I am old enough and sophisticated enough to understand the distinction between still loving someone and being over him. I know they are not mutually exclusive, but I also know what my sister was getting at, with even greater clarity now, than I did at the time.
On Saturday night I came across a picture that was fairly indicative of the best of his silly side, but one that I had not previously seen. I was poking around the Internet...on a whim, I did a more tailored search, and it yielded the photo. I know. I know. The fact that his name still comes easily to my fingertips for the purpose of Web searches is obviously telling. But believe me; it was spontaneous. I didn't expect to find much...and I had searched for others in a similar fashion.
Anyway, that photo knocked me down. It was the representation of all that was familiar to me and known by me about him...but represented, equally, something undiscovered and new, though it was from a time in our friendship when things were the best they ever would or could be, between us.
On Sunday morning, over coffee and grits, I stared at Caryl blankly. I. still. love. him. I miss him. I miss knowing that person from the photo. He will be married in two months. It would be one thing if the epiphany had visited itself upon me when I had the comfort of his ambiguous singleness, but he is soon to be legally, spiritually, and emotionally connected to another woman. I have too much self-respect to long for someone who is lost to me, which is why it's important to note the almost academic, intellectual nature of this realization...
This isn't pining. This isn't hope. It's just the bald fact that beneath the first excavated layer of grief, there is still this....this indomitable remnant.
Walking the dog this morning at the lonely hour of 5:30, I stared down my arch nemesis. The next layer of grief, far less prosaic than candid sadness... this foe is formless and has no direct object, and does not mourn the actual loss, but more pointedly the elemental, irreducible, singular points of passion...that which is pure essence. The part of loving someone else that we, ourselves, can never understand. This grief is my new houseguest.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Caryl and I helped my good friend, C move from a rowhouse she shared with two other people and her two cats, to an apartment not far from mine this morning. I love moving, or helping to move someone; it always amazes me that when you wake up in the morning, all your earthly possessions are in one place, and one or two hours later, it's all someplace else. That's it. Brand new life, sort of...
I told myself that the process of uprooting C would be my work out for the day, but once I got home, I still had a lot of energy, so I went to the gym for some cardio and lifting.
Caryl and I are about to head out to see Broken Flowers at the Charles. We'll have crepes at the place next to the theatre for dinner.
Tomorrow the dog comes!
I told myself that the process of uprooting C would be my work out for the day, but once I got home, I still had a lot of energy, so I went to the gym for some cardio and lifting.
Caryl and I are about to head out to see Broken Flowers at the Charles. We'll have crepes at the place next to the theatre for dinner.
Tomorrow the dog comes!
Friday, August 12, 2005
"Don't be Afraid to Open Your Heart."
Every night before bedtime, my sister and I each take turns telling the other "something good." It's a little bedtime ritual that basically amounts to telling each other something encouraging that is relevant to what the other of us is currently worried about, experiencing, etc.
Among the things my sister shared with me last night, she also said to me "don't be afraid to open your heart." I lay there in the quiet dark of our shared bedroom and briefly pondered that statement before drifting off to sleep.
In the light of day, as the afternoon has worn on, I've given her words of encouragement/ warning some more thought. I'm actually not ready to open my heart at all. I posted about a week ago to an entirely different end. I said that I was ready for something more, explicitly.
I think the fact that I was under such a misguided impression has more to do with my proclivity toward complacency than anything else. There is a deeply rooted tendency in me to be barely healed from a bad scrape, and then to ante up again for equally devastating punishment...
Or, to refuse to hold my peace for the mere sake of enduring until the end. I just decide, half-way, that it's good enough. That I can stop now, because I've proven my point. The trap door principle.
I am terrified of that happening with my weightloss, and I am terrified that just as I'm beginning to be a better woman, that I will forfeit the game, because I'm scared of holding out.
I have no business even thinking about a relationship right now, or for the foreseeable future. I have to keep my motivation to change fresh and present. Right at the surface. And I have to be tough on myself, or I will self-distract, and end up in the same boat I was in before. the S.S. Sinking Ship.
Every night before bedtime, my sister and I each take turns telling the other "something good." It's a little bedtime ritual that basically amounts to telling each other something encouraging that is relevant to what the other of us is currently worried about, experiencing, etc.
Among the things my sister shared with me last night, she also said to me "don't be afraid to open your heart." I lay there in the quiet dark of our shared bedroom and briefly pondered that statement before drifting off to sleep.
In the light of day, as the afternoon has worn on, I've given her words of encouragement/ warning some more thought. I'm actually not ready to open my heart at all. I posted about a week ago to an entirely different end. I said that I was ready for something more, explicitly.
I think the fact that I was under such a misguided impression has more to do with my proclivity toward complacency than anything else. There is a deeply rooted tendency in me to be barely healed from a bad scrape, and then to ante up again for equally devastating punishment...
Or, to refuse to hold my peace for the mere sake of enduring until the end. I just decide, half-way, that it's good enough. That I can stop now, because I've proven my point. The trap door principle.
I am terrified of that happening with my weightloss, and I am terrified that just as I'm beginning to be a better woman, that I will forfeit the game, because I'm scared of holding out.
I have no business even thinking about a relationship right now, or for the foreseeable future. I have to keep my motivation to change fresh and present. Right at the surface. And I have to be tough on myself, or I will self-distract, and end up in the same boat I was in before. the S.S. Sinking Ship.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
1,000th Entry!
Not counting the entries on my first, long defunct blog, This is my 1,000th posting, just shy of a full 3 years at this url. I want to thank my friends who faithfully read and remain invested in this chronicle of my life, and who have been so through its various and sundry name changes and templates. And thanks for not believing me for that brief moment when melodrama won out and I "stopped" blogging for about a minute and a half...
There's a revolution afoot, people, and while it will not be televised, it will be blogged about. Keep reading me; you know I'll keep reading you.
Not counting the entries on my first, long defunct blog, This is my 1,000th posting, just shy of a full 3 years at this url. I want to thank my friends who faithfully read and remain invested in this chronicle of my life, and who have been so through its various and sundry name changes and templates. And thanks for not believing me for that brief moment when melodrama won out and I "stopped" blogging for about a minute and a half...
There's a revolution afoot, people, and while it will not be televised, it will be blogged about. Keep reading me; you know I'll keep reading you.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Organic Peanutbutter Toast and No-fat Smoothie Ruminations and Announcements
I made an aromatically resonant turkey & black bean chili w/carrots for dinner last night. I'm sure it will be even better today since the spices and flavours have had time to commingle even more.
The remaining three gerber daisies I bought last week are putting forth a valiant effort, but I think today is their last.
I got the final Verizon bill affiliated with my now defunct land line. $1.82.
Am editing a truly silly document. Some people don't know how to write good.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Jazz Tuesday
Thanks to the miracle of Internet radio, I can listen to countless hours of Jazz (or any other genre) while I edit my life away. Thanks to the miracle of having a fairly nice-sized cubicle with a window, I can enjoy the melancholy, yet romantic grey of a late summer sky while enjoying said Jazz. A steaming cup of joe would round this all out very nicely, but I am rationing out my coffee allowance, so this morning it will be black tea with a drizzle of honey.
I had a makeshift breakfast of low-fat cottage cheese with two tablespoons of pumpkin butter (think applebutter, but better) and three slices of turkey bacon (needed a change from the cereal I usually eat). Now I'm downing some water, then I'll start navigating the rough water of hard copy editing that has flooded my desk.
I had some crazy dream I no longer remember last night, but I do recall that it involved getting some information that made me feel relieved. Maybe that's an omen of good news to come.
Enjoy your Tuesday, my lovelies. Listen to some Jazz if you can...
Thanks to the miracle of Internet radio, I can listen to countless hours of Jazz (or any other genre) while I edit my life away. Thanks to the miracle of having a fairly nice-sized cubicle with a window, I can enjoy the melancholy, yet romantic grey of a late summer sky while enjoying said Jazz. A steaming cup of joe would round this all out very nicely, but I am rationing out my coffee allowance, so this morning it will be black tea with a drizzle of honey.
I had a makeshift breakfast of low-fat cottage cheese with two tablespoons of pumpkin butter (think applebutter, but better) and three slices of turkey bacon (needed a change from the cereal I usually eat). Now I'm downing some water, then I'll start navigating the rough water of hard copy editing that has flooded my desk.
I had some crazy dream I no longer remember last night, but I do recall that it involved getting some information that made me feel relieved. Maybe that's an omen of good news to come.
Enjoy your Tuesday, my lovelies. Listen to some Jazz if you can...
Monday, August 08, 2005
This Week on a Very Special "The Baltimore Chronicles"...
Last week on "The Baltimore Chronicles" Kate and her sister enjoyed a pancake supper, contemplated going to see "Must Love Dogs," and shopped for new clothes. Tune in this week as their summer of retail therapy and themed meals continues....
The arrival of the family dog is sure to stir things up in Kate's apartment. See her prepare for Caryl's farewell in an emotional good-bye scene. Tune in to find out if their evening bus comes on time even once, just how many days in a row they will they buy lunch from Whole Foods instead of bringing in leftovers like normal people, and you won't want to miss the events leading up to Caryl's upcoming birthday...
Will Kate find Love in Little Italy? Will Michael the Whole Foods Boy ever show his face again, or miss seeing Caryl forever? Will a certain wedding actually happen? Does Kate even give a rip?
How many pounds can Kate lose before her birthday in early September?
Stay tuned!
Last week on "The Baltimore Chronicles" Kate and her sister enjoyed a pancake supper, contemplated going to see "Must Love Dogs," and shopped for new clothes. Tune in this week as their summer of retail therapy and themed meals continues....
The arrival of the family dog is sure to stir things up in Kate's apartment. See her prepare for Caryl's farewell in an emotional good-bye scene. Tune in to find out if their evening bus comes on time even once, just how many days in a row they will they buy lunch from Whole Foods instead of bringing in leftovers like normal people, and you won't want to miss the events leading up to Caryl's upcoming birthday...
Will Kate find Love in Little Italy? Will Michael the Whole Foods Boy ever show his face again, or miss seeing Caryl forever? Will a certain wedding actually happen? Does Kate even give a rip?
How many pounds can Kate lose before her birthday in early September?
Stay tuned!
Sunday, August 07, 2005
The Great Zucchini
About a week or so ago, I procured a mammoth zucchini from the prosaically named "Produce Market" in Owings Mills. I mean, it's a big as my arm around, and only slightly shorter in length.
I just cut it into about 15 gorgeous discs to roast (seasoned with salt and curry powder), and I have decided to make zucchini sandwiches with the leftovers for lunch tomorrow.
About a week or so ago, I procured a mammoth zucchini from the prosaically named "Produce Market" in Owings Mills. I mean, it's a big as my arm around, and only slightly shorter in length.
I just cut it into about 15 gorgeous discs to roast (seasoned with salt and curry powder), and I have decided to make zucchini sandwiches with the leftovers for lunch tomorrow.
Saturday, August 06, 2005
Revamped
Sarah picked up Caryl and myself this morning for what was supposed to be a day outing that featured a) shopping for a few holdover clothing items for me, b) lunch, and c) a viewing of the Diane Lane/John Cusack vehicle, "Must Love Dogs."
Well, I don't just have a few holdover items. I have an entire wardrobe of new clothes...and it took up almost the entire afternoon. I kept mentioning the movie, but Sarah and Caryl seemed to agree that new clothes trumped the picture show, since everything I owned when I left this morning is ridiculously large on me. Essentially, I'd been wearing my sister's clothes almost exclusively for the last several weeks anyway.
It was thrillig to realize that I was a size smaller than I anticpated in Lane Bryant's clothes. Within 10 to 15 pounds, I will be too small for their clothes altogether. I have so appreciated them over the years, because they make truly appealing clothing for larger women, and in some ways I will miss being able to shop there, but it's just another adjustment I'll be happy to make.
We ended up going to Hecht's too, where I bought some other necessary items, like an all-purpose, black tank top. We finished up at a store I'd never heard of, but with which my sister is familiar, called Deb. They also specialize in fun, funky clothes for larger girls/women. I scored 3 pairs of jeans! Now, I have 5 pair. My sister gave me the Jordache jeans of hers that she's lent me on several occasions, and I got one awesome, dark flare pair at LB.
Shopping makes you hungry! We went to Tony Roma's for lunch. I got a very sensible chix breast with vegetable sides meal. The three of us also shared bbq chicken flat bread for a starter.
Once we got home, Caryl and I had a little fashion show (she also picked up some new stuff), and I bagged up nearly everything that was in my closet to deposit into the yellow Planet Aid bin near my job on Monday morning.
Now I just have one worry. That I will like my new clothes so much and enjoy how great I look in them that it will cause my weightloss to stagnate. Most of this is psychological... my old, big clothes motivated me b/c I could see how far I'd come... I just have to keep going. The good thing, I guess, is that I got everything very fitted, not too big (as I usually would), so maybe that can be a new source of motivation.
Oh, and I finally scored workout gear. Not a moment too soon, because my old sweats are falling down...
Sarah picked up Caryl and myself this morning for what was supposed to be a day outing that featured a) shopping for a few holdover clothing items for me, b) lunch, and c) a viewing of the Diane Lane/John Cusack vehicle, "Must Love Dogs."
Well, I don't just have a few holdover items. I have an entire wardrobe of new clothes...and it took up almost the entire afternoon. I kept mentioning the movie, but Sarah and Caryl seemed to agree that new clothes trumped the picture show, since everything I owned when I left this morning is ridiculously large on me. Essentially, I'd been wearing my sister's clothes almost exclusively for the last several weeks anyway.
It was thrillig to realize that I was a size smaller than I anticpated in Lane Bryant's clothes. Within 10 to 15 pounds, I will be too small for their clothes altogether. I have so appreciated them over the years, because they make truly appealing clothing for larger women, and in some ways I will miss being able to shop there, but it's just another adjustment I'll be happy to make.
We ended up going to Hecht's too, where I bought some other necessary items, like an all-purpose, black tank top. We finished up at a store I'd never heard of, but with which my sister is familiar, called Deb. They also specialize in fun, funky clothes for larger girls/women. I scored 3 pairs of jeans! Now, I have 5 pair. My sister gave me the Jordache jeans of hers that she's lent me on several occasions, and I got one awesome, dark flare pair at LB.
Shopping makes you hungry! We went to Tony Roma's for lunch. I got a very sensible chix breast with vegetable sides meal. The three of us also shared bbq chicken flat bread for a starter.
Once we got home, Caryl and I had a little fashion show (she also picked up some new stuff), and I bagged up nearly everything that was in my closet to deposit into the yellow Planet Aid bin near my job on Monday morning.
Now I just have one worry. That I will like my new clothes so much and enjoy how great I look in them that it will cause my weightloss to stagnate. Most of this is psychological... my old, big clothes motivated me b/c I could see how far I'd come... I just have to keep going. The good thing, I guess, is that I got everything very fitted, not too big (as I usually would), so maybe that can be a new source of motivation.
Oh, and I finally scored workout gear. Not a moment too soon, because my old sweats are falling down...
Friday, August 05, 2005
I am ready for something more...
I assumed after the unrequited love debacle that reached its tragic conclusion this winter, that I would be in emotional hibernation for quite some time. Consumed by my weightloss efforts and the business of processing how sad I was, I figured it would be at least a year before I could even think about starting a relationship, should one present itself.
A few weeks ago, I started to feel a curious stirring. It ocurred to me that maybe I should pray for God to send the man he has for me...but I quickly nixed this idea. It didn't fit in with my concept of when I should put myself back in that position of hope and readiness.
Being only halfway (52 pounds!) to my overall goal, it seems premature to even entertain the idea--in my mind, the weightloss is synonymous with emotional healing. But this feeling that the time has come will not go away. My first instinct is to mistrust the notion. Nothing good has ever come from it in the past...
But for what it's worth, I'm putting it out there.
I assumed after the unrequited love debacle that reached its tragic conclusion this winter, that I would be in emotional hibernation for quite some time. Consumed by my weightloss efforts and the business of processing how sad I was, I figured it would be at least a year before I could even think about starting a relationship, should one present itself.
A few weeks ago, I started to feel a curious stirring. It ocurred to me that maybe I should pray for God to send the man he has for me...but I quickly nixed this idea. It didn't fit in with my concept of when I should put myself back in that position of hope and readiness.
Being only halfway (52 pounds!) to my overall goal, it seems premature to even entertain the idea--in my mind, the weightloss is synonymous with emotional healing. But this feeling that the time has come will not go away. My first instinct is to mistrust the notion. Nothing good has ever come from it in the past...
But for what it's worth, I'm putting it out there.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Pancake Supper
Caryl and I made breakfast for dinner last night, complete with low-fat buttermilk pancakes, turkey bacon, and her famous SouthWestern omelettes. I drizzled no sugar (organic) syrup on my flap jacks, and I'm happy to report that they were delicious.
The Graduate Christian Fellowship meeting was okay...a little lacklustre last night. We have been reading the book of Esther in the Old Testament, and I find that the group, as a whole, is a lot more interested in the anecdotal history of biblical events than the application of the message to our lives (i.e., What is God saying to us for our lives through this message?). What can I say? I'm a reformed evangelical all the way.
Plot twist:
I'll be dog-sitting for my other sister for about a month. I'm mostly looking forward to it.
Outstanding Frustration:
My apartment
Caryl and I made breakfast for dinner last night, complete with low-fat buttermilk pancakes, turkey bacon, and her famous SouthWestern omelettes. I drizzled no sugar (organic) syrup on my flap jacks, and I'm happy to report that they were delicious.
The Graduate Christian Fellowship meeting was okay...a little lacklustre last night. We have been reading the book of Esther in the Old Testament, and I find that the group, as a whole, is a lot more interested in the anecdotal history of biblical events than the application of the message to our lives (i.e., What is God saying to us for our lives through this message?). What can I say? I'm a reformed evangelical all the way.
Plot twist:
I'll be dog-sitting for my other sister for about a month. I'm mostly looking forward to it.
Outstanding Frustration:
My apartment
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
The Mourning Period
One of the tenents of Judaica that I most appreciate is the acknowledgment of loss by way of the formal mourning period. The prescribed timeframe for mourning is not meant to indicate that grief is on a schedule, so much as it is meant to ensure that one take the necessary time to contend with one's loss, but also to put a limit on unhelpful sorrow that soon becomes nothing more than an excuse to stop living. Naturally, loss changes you. You never, to some extent, stop missing a loved one, or return to the exact place you were before a dear hope vanished, but the active process of wailing must have checks and balances.
At this point, I believe that my formal mourning period has come to an end.
I'm ready to go back into the fray...smarter this time, but back out there, all the same.
One of the tenents of Judaica that I most appreciate is the acknowledgment of loss by way of the formal mourning period. The prescribed timeframe for mourning is not meant to indicate that grief is on a schedule, so much as it is meant to ensure that one take the necessary time to contend with one's loss, but also to put a limit on unhelpful sorrow that soon becomes nothing more than an excuse to stop living. Naturally, loss changes you. You never, to some extent, stop missing a loved one, or return to the exact place you were before a dear hope vanished, but the active process of wailing must have checks and balances.
At this point, I believe that my formal mourning period has come to an end.
I'm ready to go back into the fray...smarter this time, but back out there, all the same.
