A Lot Can Happen in Two Years, Part One

Can't believe it's been about two years since I posted anything on here.  So much has happened.  I'm sorry to say, none of it is good.

Who's to say when this string of "bad luck" started.  Was it the car accident?  December 12.  I think it will be two years this December.  I was going down the highway in the center lane, pretty much minding my own business.  I really didn't see the car.  I was blinded by a car to my left.  Of course that car saw the other car inching out onto the highway, but I didn't.  They were able to stop in time, but by the time I saw the nose of the car passed the car blinding me, it was too late.  I didn't have time to brake, or maybe I did, I can't remember.  Right before I hit the car, I thought, "This is going to be bad."  Then the moment I hit the car, "This isn't so bad."  I must have been unconscious for a moment because I opened my eyes.  My car was off the road facing the opposite direction.  The front of the car was crumpled all the way in and I was dazed.  My glasses were on the floor.  The airbag had deployed.  I felt my nose bleeding.

It took moments for the first responders to arrive because they were heading back from another call.  It was crazy mayhem.  They hooked me up to stuff.  Asked me questions.  I was still dazed.  I was less than hour from home on a three and a half hour trip.  I was so close.

Pink Sandals and a Lost Lunch

Returning to blogging after so many years feels strange.  I've skimmed through some of my posts from years ago.  Today I read a post from 2011.  I was fretting over a lunch invitation I'd accepted and had nothing to wear.  The post seemed to glaze over the opportunity to network and fixated on what to wear.  In it, I described shoes, pants, and a shirt I decided on and today, don't remember owning.  Pink sandals?  Pink shirt?  Jeans. Yes.  It's a rare person who doesn't own at least one pair of jeans.  I'm stuck on the pink sandals and pink shirt.  I honestly can't remember owning a pair of pink sandals or a pink shirt I would wear in public.  I have one Under Armor t-shirt that looks slutty on me so it sits in my drawer.  I have never even worn it in the backyard.  However, in 2011, it is the outfit I settled on to network with an acquaintance who invited me for lunch and to "show me around" pink sandals and a pink shirt.

What did you fret over eight years ago?  If you can't remember, perhaps it's a good thing or even better, maybe we need to evaluate what we worry or fret about.  What will be still be important in five years, much less eight?  What stressors will we forget and not even be able to remember what we wore, much less ever owning a pink pair of sandals and a pink shirt.

No Shortage on Short Stories

I have a list of story plots I have been journaling.
When an idea comes to my head, regardless of how far-fetched the idea is, I write it down in a document in my phone.  If I get another idea that embellishes an idea I already have, I add to it or if it's new, I just start another file.
Some of the ideas are pretty good.  Enough ideas for many books to come.  However, when I go back to begin to write with one of the ideas, the story quickly spirals out of control, or it goes nowhere.  Passionate writing becomes a chore and I avoid returning the the tragic characters that developed so quickly on my screen.  Sad, disappointed, euphoric, melancholy, you name it, the characters that so quickly became so real so quickly become, well, nothing.  It just ends in a crazy blur of, "Hey, that was a good idea.  Why can't I get passed Chapter One?"
I worked, was working, deeply into a great story that began with a suicide--an end to a long journey of heartache and sadness.  A relief.  It was good.  Even if I have to say so myself.  It was so good.  I was humming along bouncing back and forth between present and past.  Feeding the reader just enough to keep the pages turning.  Most days I couldn't type fast enough for all the ideas pouring through my mind.  I was in love with this idea and it developed quickly.  Had a life of its own.  I fell so in love with each character it came to a place where nothing but the best would do.  The words, the imagery, the emotion.  I wanted the readers to put themselves in the place of each character to feel their pain, misery, relief, happiness.  When the answer finally came in the form of a tragedy, I wanted it to sting the reader's eyes.
Since that one, it's been nothing but great ideas that seldom extend past the first 20 pages.
I see now much of my desire comes from my satisfaction of where I am in my own walk.  Where my thoughts fall and how I address them.
My own deep sadness fills most of my days coloring everything I do just enough to taint, but not discourage.  I begin to think of what it might feel like to give in to the rush of nothingness I fight everyday now.  Not the suicidal tendencies.  The haunting feeling of sadness and loss that should have no home in my otherwise flawless existence because by most people's standards I may not have it the best, but I certainly don't have it the worst.
So a few weeks ago after receive some news I had no energy or desire to mask my most primal response, I cried.
I cried and cried and cried.
At first when the tears were coming I forced them back, I even squeezed my eyes closed and wrinkled my face to put pressure on my tear ducts.  It was as exhausting as fighting primal emotions always is.
I made it home with wet cheeks, but no real outward evidence of the trauma I'd just put my body through, so I went in my room and crawled in the bed, covering up with layers of heavy blankets until only my nose was visible.
There I stayed all night crying and sobbing, wiping my nose on my blanket and shirt.  Crying and sobbing.  I allowed my body to heave and shake.  I breathed hard through the feelings and even made a weeping sound that was some where between a moan and a wheeze.  I heard my husband come in, but I couldn't see him from under the blankets.  He didn't speak to me, so I don't know why he was in there.  For me or for himself.
Still I cried.  Every time I felt myself rally, start to tell myself to get out of bed, quit acting like a baby, I refused the rally and went with the intense show of emotion I was already embroiled in.  I must have allowed myself to cry for hours.  It was dark when I finally peeked out from under the blankets.  My pillow, blankets and sheets were damp and the air under the blanket was humid from sweat, hot tears and breathe.  I didn't feel any better, I felt less exhausted.

Head, Tails, or Three Strikes, Your Out.

Well.  Here I am again.  Seems to always come around to spilling it here because I don't have anyone I can trust.  I even asked my sister if she could keep a "secret."  She said yes.  I told her a secret and not 24 hours later, she told my husband.  Right in front of me.  Jesus.  I kept looking at her trying to get her to shut it and she just kept talking.  That was the last person on this planet I could trust.  So here I am.

This one goes back a few weeks, and yes, it involves stupid coins and coin shows.  To cut to the chase, he bought a $500 coin and didn't say a word to me about it.  All he had to do was tell me what he had planned.  I asked him about the coin, saw the coin, studied the coin, gave him every opportunity to tell me how much he spent at the show.  No surprise, he didn't say anything.  I suppose I should have known when he didn't say anything about how much they were.

Well, I waited, and I waited.  Nothing.  Truthfully, I thought, eh.  It ain't no big deal.  He has a coin allowance maybe, he spent $100 dollars?  He's done that, saved up for a certain number of months and used his allowance at a show.

However, I'm not stupid either.

I know he makes money on the side which is a bit of a sticky situation.  He's always pocketed any money he's gotten on the side.  It's a super sore subject with me, but he thinks he's getting away with something and I don't say anything.  Many years ago when I was working full time and still teaching on the side we decided whatever we made "on the side" was ours to  spend as we wanted.  I saved mine and bought a car because my scooter got sold and the money just sifted through his hands.  He says he spent it on "groceries and stuff."  Whatever.  Again.  I'm not stupid.

Another sore subject.

Wow, there are a lot of those.

Ok.  Well, he has pocketed his money and acts all "generous" when I ask for a dollar or a five.  I let him feel like a man.

So maybe, just maybe, he managed to hold on to $500 he made on the side.  That doesn't relieve him of saying something.  Jesus Christ, just say something.  Say something!  How did he know to take $500 dollars to a coin show?  I asked him how he got it, he said he had it, so that makes it his side money.  His blessed side money.  His side job money.

It stings because when our truck first got diagnosed with the problem it's had now for quite some time, it was about $700 or $800 dollars, now it's gone up to $1,000.  That $500 sure would have put a nice dent in the repairs needed.

I make $300 dollars a month teaching after hours.  I use it to pay my student loans.  I've been known to buy some clothes here and there.  I spend $20 a month on a gym membership, that's about the best it gets with me.

He won $100 in a Super Bowl pool and didn't say anything about it until I asked him if he had change for a five.  He opened up his wallet, I saw a pile of twenties.  Looked like more than five of them, but who's counting.

I remember while we were watching the game, he made a big deal about winning the money, I said something about what we were going to do with the money.  He got very defensive.  I teased him about already having a coin picked out.  He got nervous and flushed.  Man, screw you, I thought.  At this time I didn't know about the $500 coin.

Anyway,  I saw his wallet full of money and made a comment.  He said he'd collected on the pool and put it away.  Regardless our situation, he's stuck to pocketing any extra money he can get his hands on.  Sometimes if I asked him for it, he'd give it to me and then he'd stop at the ATM on his way to a show and get money out.

Not to mention how he runs to the mailbox every afternoon.  I'm sick of it.

Let me take a different direction on this.

I took my bike in for repairs back in, I don't know, September, October,  the guy quoted me something like $45 dollars, when I came to pick up the bike it was $200.  I was humiliated for not getting the quote in writing.  I wanted my bike fixed so bad.  When he said $45 dollars I don't know what he was telling me, parts plus labor, labor plus parts.  Regardless.  I felt angry and foolish.  I was ashamed, so I wanted to wait until later to tell him the truth--when I felt less stupid for being taken advantage of.

Now, frankly?  I forgot.  I haven't ridden my bike but two times since then, we've been busy.  I was going to ride my bike to the gym today and I remembered I never was honest about the $200.  So I feel bad.  I feel guilty.  But I didn't sneak.  I didn't sneak.  God it just comes back to him withholding the truth and it gets me angry.

Even With the Cheesecake

Well I stepped on the scale this morning and weighed 185.0 pounds.

Yep.  185.0.

Indicating I have lost four pounds in six days.  I started watching my calories like a hawk.  Not logging, just guessing and shooting for about 1500 - 1600.  I haven't been to the gym in eight days.  Was thinking about squeezing something in tonight, but know there will be students and I am making a peanut butter pie for work.

To digress, this is the most amazing peanut butter pie ever.

Back to the 185 pounds.  I haven't lost that much weight in this little time in quite some time, if ever.  It's only four pounds, but I look in the mirror and even if it's psychological, I think I see it.  I am going to keep on trying through the end of June and see if I can continue to lose at that same rate.  If I can stick with it, I just may lose another four pounds before the first of July, making a total of eight pounds.  10 pounds would put me back at 179.

Might not be able to keep up the pace, but if I could, I could maybe lose 30 pounds by the end of July, putting me in the 150s which I haven't seen for decades.  Today I am encouraged.  Today I feel as though there may be hope.

One Week Break From Gym Madness

Well, no matter how I look at it.  Today marks seven days since I was last at the gym.  I think I might have needed it.  A week to regroup and rethink.  I spent this evening researching fat loss tips.  I really didn't see anything I didn't already know, but it helps to refresh myself and load up on hints for the days to come.

I ate pretty good Monday and today.  I a veggie drink and some cottage cheese Monday morning and a store-bought bottled fruit smoothie on Tuesday.  I had a Peanut Butter Cookie Larabar for a snack.  Super tasty and NO SUGAR.  The other bar I find myself snacking on the most is the Apple Pie.  Also very tasty and again.  NO SUGAR.  In fact, I read a blog a moment ago that said none of the Larabars have sugar in them--except the three with chocolate chips.  There's a cane sugar thing.  However, I did see items like

brown rice syrup

I don't know about brown rice syrup.  I need to do some reading.

A nice chef salad for lunch with oil and vinegar dressing.  Oh, yeah, by the way,  Paul Newman has some great salad dressing that is pretty basic salad dressing in the ingredients area, but if you're looking to not have to make your own dressing, this is the one I don't get tired of.

No Sugar!

Don't Do Me Any Favors

I've been thinking about my post questioning the true meaning of the favor.  I came to a convoluted conclusion I have to do things for myself and take responsibility for what I want.  Don't accept a favor because favors require reciprocation.  Unless I want to feel obligated, I need to meet my needs.  Find my happiness.  Get want I want.

From this day forward if I don't eat right, or don't go to the gym it's my fault.  I am the one that caused my weight gain.  I am the one that let my eating get out of control.  I am the one that ate too much, too often.  I am the one that was too tired to go to the gym.  It's all on me.

Calling In Favors

I am back today perplexed about a realization.  Another epiphany--if you will.  Favors are called favors for a reason.

"Will you do me a favor?"

Usually, the person has the right to say, "No."

However, if the one asking the question has already done something as a "favor" for the person being asked for a favor, obligation now exists.  Depending on the frequency of the original favors, the obligation can get large.

Herein lies my perplexities.

See, I tried to find a definition of the word favor that includes our ability to "call in a favor" and I couldn't find one.  A favor is an act above or beyond what might be expected or required.

"Will you do me a favor?"

Nothing in that sentence states to me:

"I've been doing X for you.  You are now obligated to do X for me."

Or:

"You've been doing X for me, I will do X for you."

If there is an agreement where two parties tell one another, "If you do this, I will do this."  That is an agreement between two parties.

So I struggle.  Where does the obligation begin.  Who gets to call in the favor?  When is it even?

He did that for her when he didn't have to.  Now she must do for him?

Disappear

I just got in touch with something I want.  I want to feel safe.  I want to fit inside someones arms and feel safe.  I want to feel a physical and emotional encircling.  I spend my days constantly stepping back from what feels like the precipice between coming undone and sanity.

A daydream I often have is beautiful deeply feathered wings wrapping around my tired aching body.  The wings close around me tighter and tighter until I almost can't breath.  I also dream of stepping into a tiny floating leaf, pulling the edges around me and letting the wind take me away, gently moving me with each small gust.  The movement is so soft, so quiet, so subtle, the water doesn't even ripple.

Maca Root and Caffeine II

I made it to a week without caffeine.  The withdrawal symptoms became more manageable as time went on.  I had coffee today.  I wasn't thinking.  Thought I "needed" it and got it.  I immediately wanted to dump it, but did not want to waste it.  With my husband out of town for the next ten days, I am going to try no caffeine while he is gone.  That includes the weekends when I enjoy my coffee on the back porch.  Thinking about a hot herbal tea alternative.

Maca Root and Caffeine Withdrawals

I wanted to return to my blog and rave about Maca Root.  I made it through a bottle and really felt as though things were looking up physically and mentally.  Tonight I don't know if that is the case.  I've got a terrible headache and my body feels as though I've been beaten.  I was seeing and thinking much more clearly.  Less sensitive, paranoid.  You name it.  Overall.  Maca Root still gets my vote.  I ran out today.  My next order doesn't arrive until Friday.

I'm trying to cut back on caffeine been doing so for about three weeks now.  I didn't realize it was going to be so difficult to resist that morning cup of coffee.  I tried a mixture of cold turkey weaning if that is possible.  I decided to not have caffeine on Friday the first week, then Thursday and Friday the second week, and Wednesday through Friday the next.  This week marked Tuesday through Friday.  I caved on the morning coffee for Tuesday, but had not caffeine the rest of the day, but today, Wednesday I feel similar to the first Friday.  Ugh.

Not sure what to do.  If I stay with the plan I will be back to caffeine on the weekend like I was in the past however, is seems like that first day of each week seems to return me back to the headaches and miserableness I had that first day three weeks ago.

Are We In the Same Marriage? II

     I've been thinking on yesterday's post about a 27 year marriage anniversary.  What if divorce wasn't off the table?  What if it was discussed openly as a viable option?  What if the couple weighed it out?  Because I will be honest here, I've never taken divorce out of the equation.  Not because I'm not a Christian, but because life happens.  The reality is divorce can become the only option in the blink of an eye.  Especially if it's not your eye blinking.

      I'll digress to a moment in time I think I might have already discussed here.  A moment I opened my mouth to a young couple openly considering divorce.  My delightful enlightened spouse offered up the time honored, "It gets better."  Followed by a great deal of blah, blah, and more blah that left me wondering if we were in the same marriage.

     I leaned over to the young bride and told her it doesn't get better.  It gets worse.  If she loves him, get ready to buckle down and work 'cause it ain't no picnic and it never will be for more than a weekend.

     They broke up.  I didn't feel responsible or guilty.  I felt relief for them.  They were miserable and their little boy would have endured much more pain to last a life time.  I don't know what happened to her, he remarried and has a little one on the way.  They seem to be satisfied with their choice.

     The funny thing about the whole "divorce is not an option" mantra is that in my almost 50 years of living, I hear men say it more than women.  Men seem to put that on the end of every comment about marriage.  Some may correct me here with their own experience, but I have never heard a woman say it or agree with it.  I'm speculating and drawing a little on my own experience here.  Usually, it's also a pretty difficult man married to a pretty easy going woman starting out the marriage willing to do absolutely anything for him and finding herself pretty disappointed my the extreme lack of reciprocation.  He doesn't bring anything to the table, so taking divorce off the table is no big deal. 

     I say get it out in the open from day one.  Make it an option.  Think it through and if you are a talking type of couple (we aren't), talk it out and see where it takes you.  Marriage isn't a "Christian" institution.  It's an agreement.  A promise to stay together through all these unimaginable difficulties.  Similar beliefs certainly helps, but I don't think being a Christian saves a marriage any more than "taking divorce off the table."  I don't think it hurts to find out what those deal breakers are and re-visit those things with regularity.  For example, in my book lying is a huge deal breaker.  Cheating comes next, but cheating and lying are pretty close, so that may ultimately be the same thing.  Hiding purchases ranks up there pretty high, as well.  I've known a lot of couples that went through emotional affairs and stayed together, but I don't know any couples that full on cheated and stayed together.  Funny thing is, I don't remember covering the deal breakers in pre-marital counseling.

     You see, I don't know if my husband has ever thought about it.  It amuses me to think about it because it would mean we'd have to talk about dissolving the marriage and he hates to talk enough that I think he'd dismiss the thought to keep from talking.

     I think about it.  I think about it long and hard.  Because of some extenuating circumstances, I don't think about it as much.  I don't like the alternatives.  For me, it's been too long and just doesn't matter anymore.  Yeah, I'd like to have that model marriage full of sensitivity and love.  Hand holding.  Love and affection.  Riding off into our twilight years together.  That's not going to happen, so I take the emotions and sex out of the equation and figure out a way to accept the years to come with wisdom and grace.

   Do yourselves a favor and don't take divorce off the table, or even better, put it back on the table.  Talk openly about what it would take to actually, really and truthfully get you, as a couple, to that point and work backward from there.  If you decide there really isn't anything that would make you want to end it forever, then it's true divorce is probably off the table.  But I offer this as well, revisit the idea of divorce when you are both sane and happy because your views will change with time.  Take my word for it.  Those deal breakers will move up and down the rankings.

Are we in the same marriage?

This is interesting.  I've seen this phenomenon in my circle of friends a few times.  A wedding anniversary approaches and "hubby" waxes sentimental with friends raising his (sometimes metaphorical) wine glass to an admiring crowd and speaking loyally and affectionately about the marriage of five, ten, fifteen (and beyond) years.  I wish I could link to the latest.  27 years.  In a week. 

The first thing  notice is this quote:

" . . . so I've been thinking about that."

All I can say is:

Really?  You've been thinking about 'that?' 

He then proceeds to offer up his ten cents in the form of a single silver bullet:

"Take divorce off the table."

Really.  You are one oblivious man if you think she hasn't thought about it once or twice.

The next offering is our glorious three options:

• be miserable
• work it out and be miserable
• learn to love

Apparently, as the entry continues, he has "learned to love."  Meanwhile I wonder who he is passing out this advice to.  As a confidant, I know as a couple, there has been great suffering as he pursued his dreams.  Unemployment, foreclosure, and repossession being one of the top three.  At the risk of becoming too personal, there were also many parenting and relationship choices that almost tore that couple in two deeper than the deepest part of the ocean.

As I read the entry my heart broke for my friend.  The tears I know she's cried because she's cried them on my shoulder.  The loneliness, the bitterness, the abandonment, the thoughtlessness, and resentment she has worked through while I sat and listened without speaking.

He ends the entry with a joking poke at how difficult it must have been to stay with him.  Oh ha ha.  Laugh. Laugh.  It isn't funny.

She hasn't learned to love.  She didn't need to.  She has always loved.  She amazes me.

Logging in Some Motivation

It had been about a week since I logged my workouts.  Between the job hunt, studying for my certs, and some other personal crap I've been dealing with I'm really on the skids.  Sitting down and writing down all the work I did last week really helped me see that even though I may not be fast enough and tough enough to run the seven mile bridge when it comes time, it can still be my goal.  So I will relax today and do some running after while and try to tap into the energy I was feeling at the beginning of the month.  My goal for the last of September is the elusive four 15 minute miles.  That may not seem like much to anyone but me, but I have to remember when I started this venture several years ago, I could barely jog for five minutes and I weighed almost 220 pounds.  I'd been kind of fat my entire life from childhood to adulthood.  Thought I was doomed to feeling gross and huge.  Now I look forward to the day I am back down to 168 and lower.

I'm looking for that magic combination of speed and stamina and one day I will find it.  I didn't do a lot of P90X last week, but I'm not going to let that talk me in to skipping new goals.  I enjoy the Yoga X so much I'm going to do that every day for a while.  I will also be adding a minute to my regular discs and a minute to Ab Ripper X.

13 minutes Yoga X
13 minutes daily disc
14 minutes on Ab Ripper X

Pretty good considering I started with two minutes and couldn't even do the warm up for two minutes!  I was peeing in my pants and holding my boobs.  My feet ached and I wanted to throw up.

I got my resistance band in the mail on Friday, so I will be instituting the pull-up challenge into my daily workout.  Shout out to Rogue Fitness for having the best reviews and best resistance band--ever!  These are like the one in the gym I couldn't afford to go to.  I questioned the choice of 1 3/4" because I was still so weak.  At 174 pounds and unable to do a single pull up, I wanted the next width.  However, I went with what was suggested.  I still can't do a complete pull up, (I can bring my forehead to the bar from a dead hang) but the challenge is there to do that one perfect pull up and then go from there.

Well.  Today should have been the start of this week, but as bummed as I was I decided to give myself a break.  I didn't overeat like I would have done in the past on a day like today.  Tomorrow starts the big push for the last week of September.

Today Is a Yuck Day

I went two months without a period.  Today is making up for it.  I am miserable with pain and feel exhausted.  I wanted to go out to eat.  I was too messed up to cook.   By the time my husband got home I was too messed up to go out.  Perhaps I should have sent him out.  At any rate, I did nothing but sit in front of the TV and sleep off and on.  Kind of worried about what I'm going to do if I have a day like this and I have a job.  Wow.  I really thought this kind of thing would be behind me by now.  Tomorrow is my 47th birthday.

A Disappointing Tidbit

I figured out today that all the "readers" on my blog have been automated.  Web domains designed to generate clicks.  No one is reading my blog.  I can take comfort in two ways.  Some of my posts over the years have gotten a little personal, too silly, or even cynical and angry.  Oh well, I suppose a corner of my mind would have liked for the 6,000-plus readers to have been human beings, but now I know there is no real person out there, it explains why no one has ever commented and I can rest a little easier about some of my over sharing.

Insurance Woes and The Pains of Memory Lane

I'm forced to do a little navel gazing this weekend.  What is my/our financial track record?  What has proven true with us time and time again?  The one thing I can put my finger on is:

Nothing, and I mean nothing, ever, ever goes as planned.

At 46, it appears we have to make "that" decision about life insurance.  We had a very meaty policy when our son was young, we were young and allegedly had higher debt.  The idea is now to readjust the policy based on the needs forecast for the next 20 years.

These are tough times.  Since we started our policy, we bought a much too big house, acquired a car payment we didn't have then and I'm not making any money because I'm unemployed going on five years.  We have dipped into our savings (and other people's savings) time and time again.  Our son has moved out and created his own life.  What does the future hold for us?  We do not have 20 years left on our mortgage, I imagine we will have a car payment as it seems we have never been able to go more than a few months without one.  What if I get a job?  What if I land that dream job that changes our situation forever.  Sure would be nice.

The truth is I've had plenty of nice jobs along the way.  Great jobs at churches, family owned companies and thriving chains.  However nice they were, they were always what I have affectionately come to call "Junk Jobs."  Those jobs that come into our life and out of life.  That job we "loved" for the first year, but hated by the end of the second.  That way too cool job with the great paycheck that didn't have that much responsibility, but ends in a cloud of smoke.  I've had them all.

As I'm writing this, I'm thinking of how much more eventful the next 20 years could be.  Retirement.  A wedding?  Grandchild(ren)?  Wow, it is so surreal. to think about planning for the next 20 when the first 20 were so bittersweet.

It's a gamble and I don't understand gambling.  So What is the answer?  Here's what I think about and what others should probably think about.

20 years from now, we will be 66.  Close, if not ready, or retired already.  We have less than 20 years on our mortgage, so perhaps it will be gone.  If we buy again, I imagine it will be a smaller house closer to wherever it is we work.  The equity from this house should help us in the purchase of a new house if that day comes.

Another thought:  If my husband passes away before my son gets married, I can hold onto the money to help them with their wedding and lives that follow.  Make it nice for them both.  Is that my place?  Am I fulfilling someone else's (my own) dream?  Probably.  Who cares?  My husband died.  I can do strange things with the money.

My grandparents on my mother's side died in the seventies.  My grandmother on my father's side died of cancer and my grandfather died of complications of Alzheimer's in his early 80s.  My husband never knew his grandfathers on both sides and his grandmother on his father's side.  His grandmother and aunt died in their 80s.  Diabetes, hypertension, stroke, obesity . . . it's all in there.  Is this the right thing to be thinking about?  Statistically speaking we are looking at an additional 20 years after the next policy expires.

I don't know if I've made an headway here, but my brain hurts thinking about those things no one likes to think about.

What exactly are we insuring?  Our future.  The one that's left over after one or the other passes on.

Day Four: I Need To Ask You Something

Since I've cut my "running" time so short, I've been trying to get on the treadmill first thing in the morning and so far it's been nice to get it out of the way before the day begins.  This is my third day returning to a calorie counting regime.  I forgot how rewarding it was to record my activities and foods I eat (and didn't eat) for the day.  I'm sure I recommended this site in the past, but I am reposting the link to Calorie Count.  There was no amount of exercise that compares to the success I had the year I dedicated to watching every thing that went into my mouth.  I am 50 lbs down from about four years ago, but half of it came off in the last year.

My phone(s) rang today.  I knew it was someone I really didn't want to talk to, so I didn't answer.  There was  a message on my home phone and cell phone.  Why not just ask me what you want instead of telling me you have a question?  Maybe that's the way it's done.  I don't know, but I hate to get a message that says, "Call me, I need to ask you something."

I did everything I was supposed to do today and was done by 9:30:

Time: 20
Distance: .59
Calories: 77
Disc: #7

When Were You Going To Tell Me?

On Monday morning I got a call for my group to take an afternoon gig in December.  I told the lady with it being in the middle of the day we might not be able to do it, but I would ask everyone to see who could.  I would call her back in the next few days to let her know.

In the meantime I asked her if it was a paying gig and we would need to get $40 each depending on how many could make the show.  She told me she'd find out how much money the group had, but wasn't sure.

Wednesday morning (two days later) I called her back.  She told me she was "going to call" me.  Apparently in the meantime (two days) the high school would be performing for them.  I asked her if it was the band or the chorus.  She said she didn't know.  I wondered when all this happened.  She said the group doesn't have any money.  I am so sick of charitable organizations thinking they can have quality entertainment for free.  What is it with these groups?

Anyway.  I decided to tell her I was "going to" tell her that if she couldn't find anyone I would come down and play for the group.  She could put me down as her "Plan B."  She was quiet for a moment,  I tried to read her to see if she was disappointed and wished she'd waited for me to call back.  We said our socially acceptable goodbyes and the phone call ended.

Up In Flames II -- Up and Able to Take Nourishment

I'm awake and feel hung over--bad hung over.  I tried to go back to sleep for a little while.  Eight o'clock is the best I could do.  I was in bed for 11 hours.  I feel like I've been sick for days.  I'm going to eat a sensible breakfast, wait and hour and try to get some exercise.  I thought about it for a moment and even though I have a headache I'm going to try to run.  I figured I could run this morning, work on my Spanish and A+, do my P90X stuff after lunch and then do today's run late tonight.  This morning's run isn't going to be a record breaker, it's going to be more about burning calories and disciplining myself for yesterday.