The earth moved. Actually, the scale moved. I was playing with the thought that maybe I wouldn’t think about losing weight, just keep on with the very healthy, controlled way I was eating, but I got on the scale yesterday and I was 233.5 (which I’d dipped down to before, I think, but was stuck firmly around 235).
Got on the scale this morning to see which way it was moving and it was 232.5. It’s finally moving.
Yesterday I did everything I wanted to do (or at least, everything I was working on). I ate mindfully. Didn’t do NettieD but kept her in mind. Even measured my whole wheat pasta last night (2 c., which may have been too much but I didn’t have lunch). Finally got back to swimming for an hour (and loved it — had to stop because things were starting to hurt but I could have gone on). Wrote 2k words. Good words — the new, speculative thing is just wonderful!
But I’ve added one more thing to my list of things. When I was young I lived for music (see Sunday’s post). I taught myself to play the guitar in my early teens, and when I would pray every night (god, I forgot that I did that!) I would ask that I could play the guitar well enough to work for me. Didn’t want to be a virtuoso, just wanted to play well enough. And I did. Got good enough, that is. I sang, I played the guitar, I even wrote songs (a couple of them fairly good). When I met Richie he and I would play and sing together, I would sing in bars, sing with bands. (I also had classical voice training for a couple of years as a teenager).
But music is a way to work out love issues — longings and broken hearts etc. And my heart wasn’t broken any more. Plus, music was a huge emotional, artistic outlet, and I was turning my life to writing. And I couldn’t do both. I had to give everything to one or the other, and writing won.
But I’ve lost my voice from not using it. And singing is wonderful for so many reasons — the breathing, and the emotional release. So I’ve decided (and I’ve tried to do this before and failed) that I would sing one song every day. My fingertips are too soft to handle any but the nylon string guitar, and even that hurts, but I’ll build the skin up. I got out the Joan Baez songbook, the Judy Collins songbook, and the Motown songbook to begin with (all 30-some years old). Song of the day: “Tracks of my Tears.” And then, when I watched “Dancing with the Stars” (yeah, I’m weak) it was Motown night and they opened with Smoky singing “Tracks.” I figure it’s a sign.
So we’re getting a song of the day. Haven’t done today’s yet, but I’m making a commitment to sing at least one song a day, and I’ll report in.
Today I’m doing research, not writing, and heading to Jo-Ann’s, then picking up Alex, so a fun day. And I’m finally losing weight! Nothing but good times ahead.
As for the kid front: Thank you guys, so much, for your support. I was so shocked by what the DIL told me that I didn’t stop to think. For one thing, I doubt he said it more than once. For another, he may not have said it directly to him. No, I’m not in denial. When the DIL gets mad she says stuff that will get me going and then turns out not to be quite the case. I have to figure out what to say and how to say it — some things I should just keep out of, but not when my grandson (or any child) is being hurt, be it words or actions. One thing that Richie pointed out, though — he’s drinking huge amounts of caffeine. Red Bull and coffee. Too much caffeine can make you a foul-tempered asshole. Gotta figure out what to say, though.
(Update — DIL said don’t say anything at this point — she gave him an ultimatum and his friend talked to him about it).
So … we move on. I am going to get the I WAS SO MAD book to help Alex understand. And love him. If they break up I’m taking him and the DIL to Disney World on my own (I’m planning and saving for a trip to celebrate turning 65 with all of them and my daughter).
Anyway, enough of that.
I’m hitting on all cylinders today.
1. I’m letting go of worrying about my son and his family
2. I’m doing writing stuff (research)
3. I’m going to play a song
4. I’m watching what I eat
5. I’m even doing some sewing stuff (the trip to Joanns for interfacing)
Cool. I’m proud of myself. Onward!