The Time Has Come ...

It's moving day.  I spoke with my new landlord last night and I'm impressed with her.  She was fretting because the previous tenant hadn't done the cleaning to her satisfaction and she promised me that it would be acceptable by 8 am even if she had to personally clean all night. 

I may be offline for a couple of days, don't worry (and don't believe me, the truth is that if I don't get my desktop up and running, I'll take my laptop to Starbucks so I can check in!)

I'm moving to my new place.

I'm excited.

And tired.

Dreaming and Falling ...

For most of my life I've had a dream.  I visited New Mexico for the first time when I was three and my parents brought me to Albuquerque to visit my Aunt Oleta.  When I was 16 I came back to the Glorieta conference center for a week of Youth "Camp".  (The tee shirts my sister and I are wearing in the photo I posted last week, are both from New Mexico.)  I fell in love with the "land of enchantment" and it's been my hope for 27 years to live there. Over the years I've returned to Glorieta, brought juvenile delinquents camping in the mountains outside Taos, and vacationed in Santa Fe.  But I've never come close to my dream of living there.

I want to go back to school.  I've wanted to return and continue my education ever since I got my BS in Business Administration over 20 years ago. 

The University of New Mexico has a program that seems so tailor-made for me that it could have been designed with my dreams in mind.  (A dual masters in English and Philosophy.)  No, I don't know what exactly I would "do" with it.  Certainly, I intend to write, I'd also like to teach.  I know that you can write and publish without a degree, but I want the degree. 

SO I was on the verge of realizing my dreams.  Everything was lined up.  And then I got this call from the people who offered me the job working for the non-profit here in Colorado Springs.  And it threw me into ... okay I know this is melodramatic, but it put me in agony.  My dream versus security.  My dream versus ... well, an entirely different dream.

My best friend encouraged me by listening to everything they told me about the position and saying, "You were born to do this job."  And that may be true.  But as "the course of true love never did run smooth," neither does the course of true destiny. 

I met with them again on Thursday.  Things are proceeding in terms of setting up the programs, getting all the legal p's and q's accounted for and figuring out all the "nationally scalable" options.  But in the meantime, I don't think they have any idea what they want ME to bring to this table.  They are meeting with the heads of huge Credit Unions, Vice Presidents of Bank of America, and other similarly high flying people in their quest to design the perfect (or at least best option at the moment) service of this type in the nation. 

And after listening to the explanation of all that they are doing, the man who will be my boss asked me, "until we are ready to bring you on board full-time, what's the least amount I could pay you to retain your services for part-time consulting."  Sigh.  That's a long long way from the salary offer made at our last meeting.  I told him what I have to bring home per week in order to meet my expenses and said however that works out on a per hourly basis, that's what I need.  So if he's dividing it by 15 hours, 20 hours or whatever, that's what I need him to do for me.  It was a ridiculously low sum of money I named and I can't help wonder if I have commited myself to a huge mistake. 

I've been asking that same question every night since our meeting in Mid May.  But on the basis of the oroginal offer he made me, I've committed myself to at least another year in Colorado Springs.  I've signed a lease on a great new place and I'm moving in this week.  I'd already given notice to my current position.  But I haven't even looked for anything else.

As it stands, I have no definite "start date", no agreed upon salary, no clear idea of what it is they want me to do.  I do have savings, I've already tapped that savings to pay for the move into the condo, and I will tap it further to buy new furniture.  I want a sofa and the kids desperately need beds for their rooms.  At the end of the day, if this job dries up, I believe I have enough reserves to carry me through until I can find something that will support us here.  But it's a bitter thing to contemplate that all I've worked so hard to accomplish financially may be wiped out as a result of my choice to rely on that offer.

So what am I going to do?

One thing I know, I'm tired of waking up in the night with tears on my face and I'd be appreciative of a few solid answers. 

I'm sure that someone will point out that just because I'm committed to another year in Colorado doesn't mean that I will never have my dream.  And I know as well that 43 isn't quite the end of the highway for me yet.  But can I admit that I'm starting to feel that it's never going to happen?  To think that someday, there's going to be a funeral where my kids might say, "she was a great Mom, took care of us, worked hard to be a good friend and give back to the people around her.  And ... what was that thing she always wanted to do?"

100,000 Nails

I'm freshly back from my third Weight Watcher's meeting.  And I can report that I lost .2 pounds this week.  That's right - POINT 2 pounds.  3.2 ounces.  Not impressive.  In fact so not impressive that I was trying very hard not to be a whining disappointed baby about it.

Then I had this thought.  My boss is having a house built.  Every week or so she emails photos of the prgress on her house.  Some weeks, it's hard to see the progress, but every week they are nailing more nails into the materials that make up that structure.  Right now, they are a little more than halfway through the process and it still looks nothing like a finished house. 

In the first weeks of the project some of those photos just looked like dirt.

I know that I followed the program.  And I also know that my first week of loss (5.2 pounds) is not normal or sustainable.  Even though I would very much like to have sustained that rate of dropping.

Every day I have dozens of decisions about what I will or won't eat.  What I will or won't do.  How I will or won't feel.  Each of those decisions represents a nail in the house I'm building.  I can either pick it up and drive it in, or I can complain about the fact that my two weeks of nailing doesn't look like a house yet. 

Sighs

Reaches for hammer

Old Friend ...

I know there are very few people who have been reading me for all of the past five years.  My sister, maybe.  Other than that readers come and go and that's cool.  But those of you who remember me from way back may remember the Big Blue Chair.  The Big Blue Chair has been kind of like a security blanket for me.  I loved that chair. 

But in the last move, it got broken.  Oh, not the chair itself, but the wiring that made it WORK.  See the BBC came with massage and heat functions built in.  There have been many many nights that I've slept in that chair because of the massage and heat functions.  They helped the arthritis in my back and well, I loved that chair. 

Tonight, I came home from work and prepared to dismantle the chair for the last time.  My cousins are coming over and we are setting things out on the sidewalk for the Salvation Army guy to come and pick them up.  One of the nice features of the BBC is that the back easily lifts off so it can be moved.  As I was removing the back, I noticed something about the wires that were cut.  There was a matching set of wires on the other side, kind of like a sign from God showing me red-yellow-gold-bronze ...(etc)  I got out my tool bucket and went to work.

And my chair WORKS again!  It's like it's been raised from the DEAD.  Hallelujah!!!!!

Um - the Salvation Army pick-up truck will be driving away with one less item than expected. 

*****

CALLING ALL WRITERS!!!

My friend, Dread Pirate, is hosting a Summer Writing Contest.  He's looking for poems, flash length fiction, up to short stories (no more than 3,000 words.)  There are a few rules, the story/poem must include pirates, a beach, a party ... something like that.  No Romance, No Erotica.  You can see details at his site. 

Awesome prizes are associated with the contest.  So check it out and see what you can do.  All entries will be included in an e-book, and this isn't one of those things where you pay $30 and get a certificate.  There is NO ENTRY FEE.  Time is short though, the deadline for entries is July 1. 

I'll see you there. 

*****

This morning was a challenge.  And I have to tell you about what happened because I'm kind of proud of myself for dealing with this with a good sense of humor.  The electric went out here at my apartment.  It's done that off and on for about ... 24 hours.  This morning it was off for at least two hours and it was time for me to shower and get ready for work. 

So I took the flashlight into the shower.  Pretty cool huh.  And I didn't even get electrocuted or anything.

Looking Back to Go Forward

I mentioned in my Saturday evening pseudoblog that I lost 5.2 pounds last week,  I did that because I have been following a program that I've known about all my life and for whatever reason, never tried.  I joined Weight Watchers.  They have the best track record in the industry for the past 40+ years. They don't promise impossible results.  And they monitor members on a weekly basis. 

I know that most people are motivated by that coming weigh-in date to stick with it and lose that pound or two or maintain.  I am motivated by that weekly weigh-in to NOT lose more than my "goal".    I have confessed in this space before that I have a real love/hate relationship with my body and with the scale.  I got so heavy that I felt fear for my life and health coupled with an intense self-loathing and helplessness.  Then, I started losing.

At first, I started losing because I "just cut back", but then I became obsessed with losing and before it was over I was ... addicted to self-destructive behavior.  I was proud of myself and my discipline on the days that I managed to get by eating fewer than 500 calories.  It was a power trip.  And on the days that I "slipped" or couldn't help myself because I was in a public place or at a public function where I felt that I HAD to eat in order to avoid the appearance of rudeness, I would go home and throw up, or take a handful of laxatives. 

It was another way of despising myself.  But then ... well, I got scared again.  Because once again I realized that all my "control" was an illusion.  I was just as out of control as ever.  Only now I was getting positive feedback for it.

That was a little over a year ago.  I sought the help and support of my closest friends, and they have loved me enough to "keep me honest" with myself.  Only, letting go of the pills and the vomiting and trying to eat like a "normal" person was putting pounds back on my body.  I could feel it building up in me again.  I even said it to Cool Mary a few weeks ago, said it out loud, meant it and then kind of freaked out about it that I was frustrated enough to go back to pills and puking. 

Well, Cool Mary had a better idea. 

Join Weight Watchers. 

If you start losing more than 2 pounds a week, they sit down, counsel you, make you see your doctor ... in other words they hold you accountable on both sides.  They show you how to eat healthily so you can lose weight, and they show you how to eat healthily so losing weight is not hazardous to your health. 

My first week was last week.  In your first week you are "allowed" to lose extra because they know that your body will lose water.  But then things should settle down into a more or less steady weight loss pattern. 

I'm only ten days into this thing so I'm not even past the baby steps of the program.  But I have hope that I am hooked into something that will really help me.

And I found this photo.  I was 16 when it was taken, my sister Sam was 14.  She weighed about 10 pounds less than the goal Weight Watchers has set for me, and I weighed about 10 pounds more than that goal.  So I'm shooting for that space right between us. 

It seems like I've spent 25 years trying to get back to where I was when this photo was taken.  Maybe, just maybe, I'm on the path to finally get there.

Love Profound -

Isn't it interesting how you come to a place where you are mostly alone, and then you learn about love? Well, okay, maybe that's just me.

I had this conversation with Tucker a couple months ago about a celtic knot pattern I admire. We were talking about love and how big and deep is love. When does love end? And I told him that I believe that love never ends. It changes, but it never ends, not if it's real.  He thought that was a good answer, but he said, "If you hurt enough, doesn't that make the love go away?"

This afternoon I had a conversation with my best friend about pain.  In my usual melodramatic way, I wished to share in the pain.   And of course, MBF responded that no way could that kind of pain be shared or wished upon someone you care about. 

I don't know, I think if I were God, (and here's another reason for everyone to be glad I'm NOT) I think that if two people chose to join their hearts in my realm, I'd grant them that option, to share the pain as well as the joy.   I remember a story I read once about C S Lewis and his wife Joy Davidman.  At the time they married, she had already been diagnosed with the cancer that took her life.  Her pain grew so pronounced that she could not rest and he was going insane with grief from watching her suffer.  He prayed and experienced an excruciating pain in his own body, but her pain was eased.

Lewis wrote much about physical, emotional, and spiritual pain and if I hadn't already packed my books, I could look up a dozen excellent quotes, but I googled this one and it fits my thought:

Bridge-players tell me that there must be some money on the game, "or else people won't take it seriously."  Apparently, it's like that.  Your bid, for God or no, for a good God or the Cosmic Sadist, for eternal life or nonentity, will not be serious if nothing is staked on it.  And you will never discover how serious it was until the stakes are raised horribly high; until you find that you are playing it not for counters or sixpences but for every penny you have in the world.  Nothing less will shake a man, or at any rate a man like me, out of his merely verbal thinking and his merely notional beliefs.  He has to be knocked silly before he comes to his senses.  Only torture will bring out the truth. Only under torture does he discover it himself.

 I have learned a few things about myself and pain and love over the past 43 years.  In the first place, I have a capacity to endure a lot of pain.  I have degenerative arthritis in my lower back, although thank God, I have not been diminished in my ability to walk.  I live with pain. 

It shocked me after my car accident two years ago when the ER doc asked me how much pain medication I was already taking.  "not any" - she couldn't believe that a person with the damage she saw on those x-rays wasn't taking anything.  So she probed several more times and then ordered a blood test.  She offered me a prescription.  But I never had it filled. 

I don't say this because I hope that anyone will think me admirable.  Mostly I have a severe aversion to drugs and a determination to avoid any chance of becoming dependent upon pain meds.  But let it be someone I care about who's in pain?  My attitude shifts.  It's okay to discount my pain, but not the pain of someone I care about.  I want them to have the latest medication, the softest cushion, the most perfectly contoured heating pad ...

And more than anything, I want the privilege of sharing.  Let me carry a little of that in my heart, in my mind, in my body.  Let me share.  I won't accuse God in this matter, I'm sure she knows what she's doing,  But if it were me, I'd grant that desire.  I believe that friendship and love may be born in pleasure but they grow in adversity and pain. 

Our love knows no limits
And our love knows no bounds
Hear it ring through the hills and canyons
Isn't love profound.

It shows us the life that we know we can live
It teaches us how to forget and forgive
It gives us the harvest from sweet mercy fields
It rescues, it nurtures, it calms and it heals.

'Cause our love knows no limits
And our love knows no bounds
Oh, it confounds the wisest of sages
Isn't love profound.

Oh, it sings when we're weary from so many tears
And rocking us gently it cradles our fears
In those times when we feel like we've come to our end
It gives us the strength to start over again.

"Cause our love knows no limits
And our love knows no bounds
It will stand even tried by fire
Isn't love profound.

Our love knows no limits
And our love knows no bounds
Hear it ring through the hills and canyons
Isn't love profound...

Lyric to "Love Profound" from Susan Ashton's A Distant Call

 

 

YUM!

This was a wonderful brithday. 

I went to church this morning, where we had a guest speaker, John Bevere.  Wonderful message about the work of being a believer and the rewards that come from it.

I had lunch with my cousin and her family, and her parents - my aunt and uncle.  I got MORE presents today.  And TWO birthday pies!  The strawberry one I had requested from Eliza and a chocolate meringue pie that my Aunt made. 

I've gotten more presents, more happy birthdays sung to me, and more good wishes than I think I've gotten for the previous five years combined.  I feel special.  And loved. 

Celebrate!

I lost 5.2 pounds this week.

Tomorrow is my birthday.

I got more cool presents today.

I had steak and cheesecake for dinner.  (Pollyanna wanted Steak and Ice Cream, but I'm NOT Pollyanna - really.)

I'll be in my bubble bath with my new cd playing, a glass of wine, and my new book in hand.  I'd light a candle too, but I think I've already packed them all.

As Cool As Your Kids ...

As a Mom, I identify myself with my kids even though I don't want to and I know that's a terrible place to be.  I don't want to live through them or have my self-concept be wrapped up in who they are.  And I've recently discovered there's another even more insidious danger here.  What if your kids aren't cool?

My friends, mostly my same age or very close to it.  (No twitting Maureen for being two years older ...) have kids who are roughly ten years older than my kids.  And these kids (all out there in college, surfing the net, traveling the world, footloose and fancy free doing the cool things in life) rub off on their parents in ways that I'll bet none of them realize. 

Then I look at my kids.  And grin.  Michael still likes to put on his Goofy hat from Disney world, tie a blanket around his shoulders and play "Michael Boy, Super Hero".  Tucker is always and forever off to the beat of his own drummer.  I'm not sure they would know cool if it bit them. 

So where does that leave me?  I don't know the cool new music, or the cool new looks.  I don't hear cool slang or eat cool food.  I'm cool deprived! 

Oh well, I may not know what's cool.  But I know what's good.

I got a tee shirt from Cool Mary yesterday.  It's a birthday present because I'll be adding another year to my resume on Sunday.  And I can't wait to wear it.  It's Navy blue with a Budda raising both arms in something like a victory pose.  His wonderful belly is all exposed.  And it says "Buddalicious".  I don't know if its cool, but I know I like it!

Happy Xangaversary to Me

It's been five years today since I timidly ventured across the threshold of Xanga and entered the world of blogging.  Wow.