Reinventing Fabulous

You know you have a problem shopping when you cripple yourself in your quest for bright and shiny things. On the one hand I managed to please myself and still not spend much money. On the other, I walked so much I was in so much pain I couldn’t sleep. However, having followed yesterday’s link about how 20 minutes of strolling makes a huge difference in your health, I figure it was worth the pain.
But I digress. Remember I said yesterday that I have now discovered why strangers don’t compliment me on my weight loss. All my clothes are huge on me. I had Lani take some pictures: That’s the extra fabric. Now here’s me with the fabric pulled tight. When I look at the thumbnail I don’t recognize me. It’s pretty easy to hide 25 pounds beneath that shirt (and I love that shirt). But Crusie’s already found a couple of great tops for me, and we’ll search more. Plus she has this great curtain fabric she was giving to Goodwill that I’m thinking I might make slipcovers out of. And Crusie hates her scale so I get that too. See — Magpies R Us. No, no, recycling. That’s what it is.
And I’m going to make a shrug. Well, two. One crocheted, one knitted, to go with the sundress Crusie gave me. (Photo to come).
And I worked on revisions, lost 6/10ths of a pound on Crusie’s scale (you can see why I love it) and apart from goldfish have been eating extremely well. So life is good here at Squalor on the River. Funniest moment was me bellowing at my deaf mother over the phone as we drove home while Jenny and Lani were howling with silent laughter, the evil wretches.
I think we’ll have a peaceful day until we head out to the movies.I know I’m gonna need a nap. But right now I’m sitting by the river again, the house is still and quiet, and life is good.
Oh, and I gotta say Crusie is always the thoughtful hostess. When she vacated the bedroom she left her vibrator plugged in for me.
I decided not to interfere with her most meaningful relationship and let it be.
Ah, sisters!

There is one thing I’ve always wanted to do: Make something out of duct tape.

Well, I can cross that off the bucket list. Yesterday, I realized belatedly that I had no TiF for this week. Once again, Thursday had snuck up on me like a ninja, tapped me on the shoulder, and then pointed and laughed.

Smug little bastard.

So I thought for a moment, looking at materials I had around the house—and since starting the TiFs, I have quite a lot of stuff just lying around—and I spotted not one but two rolls of duct tape. And I thought, “Well, make something with duct tape!” A lifelong dream and a TiF, all in one.

No, I don’t get out much. What makes you ask? [...]

I’m in the vast living room of Squalor on the River, it’s early morning and I’m stretched out on a chaise, watching the river run. It’s gorgeous. The flight was completely painless — Richie dropped me off with my suitcase and went to park, when I realized I’d left my phone and cane in the car. I tried to chase after him but he was already gone, so I checked in and waited, knowing I’d have to send him back. He arrived a couple of minutes later, carrying the phone and the cane. The man knows how to read minds.
Lani picked me up, and there was much joy in the land. When we got back to the magic castle Crusie was there in all her magnificence, and much hugging ensued. We set off for dinner at Outback (garlic mashed potatoes don’t have that many calories!) and massive food shopping for veggies and fruits. It’s strange to be here with only one day’s warning. As Crusie said so memorably – “there was no foreplay.”
Only two bad things about being here. Lyle’s not here. Well, he is in spirit. But I miss him.
And I kicked Crusie out of her bedroom. I hadn’t realized she’d moved upstairs again, and I feel awful about dislodging her and sending her back to the basement. She assures me it’s all right, but I could have slept in the living room quite happily. I can sleep anywhere quite happily as long as it’s at Squalor on the River.
But hey, I forgot. This is a guilt-free trip. So suck it, Crusie.
(Not that Jenny would ever want me to feel an iota of guilt. At least, not seriously.)
So I shall revel in the room. And the divine shower (that’s my hair wet — I used Crusie’s shampoo of choice, BedHead. We’ll see how it does).
We’re going to see Dark Shadows and Avengers in 3D. We’ll go to Hobby Lobby and yes, Jungle Jim’s has just opened next door! And JoAnns and Target (no Targets in VT) and it will be blisteringly hot.
Oh, and I made a discovery today as to why no one is telling me how skinny I am. My clothes are too baggy. I put on my favorite shirt and there’s about ten inches of ease. My shirts are all 2x and I’m a little smaller than a 1x — maybe close to an XL.
And Crusie has a great scale that shows tenths of a pound. The sucker told me I was 232.6 this morning. I’m retaining water like mad and bloated from the plane ride, so I’m not upset. But you know me — I’m gonna weigh myself every day. I want a scale just like that.
Crazy, I know. But scales keep me honest and I don’t overreact to the fluctuations. I’m not upset about the 232.6. Just determined.
And I’m pretty sure we don’t need the ritual Steak N Shake visit this time. I think I shall roll in veggies and fruits and lean meats and there will be joy in the land.
Thank God I’m in Ohio.

I don’t like TV comedies with laugh tracks (I know when to laugh, thank you) and I really don’t like those schlubby guy gets the hot girl stories (one or two would have been fine but now they’re a trope) and I have no time for TV shows that make fun of nerds (since I am one).  Which is why it took me so long to find The Big Bang Theory.  It’s about four schlubby nerds (ha ha, nerds), two of whom have hot girl friends, and there’s a laugh track.  Then because of Nerd Wars I had to watch a couple of episodes (for Team Bazinga; yes, The Big Bang Theory has its own Nerd War Team).   Once I saw Howie shoot the meatloaf into the ceiling, I was sold.  I settled in to watch the entire series because it was funny and the characters were endearing.  Then Amy Farrah Fowler showed up.  When Sheldon said, “Can I get you a beverage?” and she said, “Tepid water, please,” I knew that as long as Amy was on the air, I was The Big Bang Theory‘s bitch. [...]

God, the lighting is bad in this room. It’s those nasty swirly light bulbs that save on electricity.
Doing a little happy dance here. I’m mostly packed, got my meds and toiletries sorted out, got the maple syrup and whole grain waffle mix packed. I wanted to throw in the two bottles of Spanish wine for Lani and Alastair but I figured I can get that in Ohio. But I’m getting out.
Yes, Richie is divine. He’s totally supportive of me getting out of here, even though it leaves him alone on the front line.
But my son seems to be in a good place, calm, taking it one day at a time. Concerned about not letting Alex feel abandoned. Encouraging me to keep a strong relationship with both Erin and Alex. Things had to change. But there may be hope for the future. I just can’t let myself get caught up in that hope — it’s between them.
But being home while the furniture comes back will be hard. The small, hard parts of a break-up will be painful, and it will be so much easier coming back (well, less hard) to a fait accompli. My son asked me not to talk about it or weigh in, and he was concerned how this was affecting us (which shocked and surprised me). In fact, he’s being more mature and calm than he’s been for a long time. So I’m guessing the relationship, much as they love each other, had gotten pretty toxic. I’m hoping a separation will help and it will eventually work out, because they DO love each other, but that’s not up to me.
So I’m going to have fun!!! We’ll go see Dark Shadows, and maybe the Avengers again. We’ll drink Spanish wine and cuddle the dogs and I might even convince Crusie to take me to Ikea and Teresa’s Treasure Trove (a great fabric store way the hell and gone in Cincinnati).
Phantom just came to say goodby. He’ll have to sleep on Richie’s stomach while I’m gone.
Yup, we’ll do a podcast. And we’ll have fun, dammit! All I have to do is call my mother once a day and my duties are done.
Up, up and away. I believe I can fly. We’re off to see the Wizard.
Nothing but good times ahead.

We tend to have little patience with complaining in our culture. And for good reason. It’s self-indulgent, whiny, and annoying.

Venting, on the other hand, is exactly what it sounds like; letting off steam so we can then proceed through our day. Acknowledge the problem. Accept it. And move forward.

So it’s not that we shouldn’t talk about what’s bothering us; that idea is unhealthy, and leads us toward suppression, which makes us angry, and likely to take the head off the person who happens to be in the chair when the music stops, whether they really deserve it or not.

What we need to do is vent… our frustrations, our anger, our annoyances, not just so that someone doesn’t get his ass handed to him simply for being the wrong person in the wrong place at the wrong time, but also so we have the energy to wield our mighty swords when we need them, when it’s appropriate, with our focus on results, rather than on releasing a thousand caged furies into the world to wreak wild havoc.

This is my hair when I crawl out of bed and have had my cpap machine on. I kind of like it.
Okay, as Warren Zevon would say, send lawyers, guns and money, the shit has hit the fan. The on again off again relationship between my son and his fiancee is kaput. Seriously. She moved out. He moved out. They’re both grieving, but they can’t live together any more.
And this is about them, I know it. But you know, fuck that. Today it’s all about me. [...]

So four months ago I found out I was diabetic (along with other some other stuff) and I’ve spent the time since trying to figure out how to live with that.  Some of it has been not so much fun–I’m really not very good with artificial sweeteners as it turns out–and some of it has been odd–really, cinnamon lowers glucose levels?–but it’s all been . . . healthy.  I’m a lot healthier now.  Turns out when you eliminate sugar and white flour from your body, your body says, “Thanks.”  Then it gets hit with the allergies from hell, but still, it’s grateful.

And I really should be grateful.   [...]

I’ll setting this to load in the wee hours of the morning, and then I’ll add a photo later in the day. Or maybe not. There are no rules.
I had a tough week, lots of roller coaster stuff going on, and it required a huge amount of effort to not go for the ride, which ended up being exhausted.
But we made it through, and now there’s another week to face.
(eeerkkk) That’s the sound of me girding my loins. Once more, dear friends, unto the breach.

I wasn’t as thoughtful with my eating as I should be. Gotta focus. No time to slacken.
I didn’t get to swimming at all this week due to the trauma, both real and imagined. I MUST get swimming this week.
Read more. There are wondrous books out there — a new Meredith Duran, a new Sherry Thomas among others. I just don’t remember to take the time.

So, guys. What’s on your agenda?

You know, it is a good Sunday. I tried to talk my mother into going out for a nice lunch, but she prefers just coming over here for dinner, so we’ll do that.
The son was here, talking about the future in upbeat ways. I’m wearing yellow, which always makes me happy.
However, Ms. Porker is not losing weight, so I have to hunker down.
I was gonna talk about mothers, but I have very conflicted feelings about my mother and today isn’t the day to share it.
Instead, I’ll just be mellow. Clean the living room, make some bread, do a little sewing. Just sort of putter and enjoy myself. Not worry about work, not worry about anything.
A zen-like calm is in place.
Maybe I should wear yellow more often.