Krissie: Bad Wolf Num Num

Photo on 9-20-13 at 11.13 AM That’s Krissie with the Bad Wolf chewing on my liver. Everything’s getting to me, and I’m trying to fight it off. I want to run away. But I can’t. Gotta fix things here.
The day is gorgeous. I need to concentrate on that. Not on all the things I need to do. The living room is slightly better but I need Tim to go back home to Alex (he’s staying in his cabin while he tries to get off cigarettes).
Hell, I haven’t anything cheery or upbeat to say. Sometimes the Bad Wolf is triumphant.
I’m gonna spray paint a shelf and go for a drive. Maybe that will cheer me up. I’m bluuuuuuue. (Is that the way to howl it? Maybe if I howl long enough the Bad Wolf will stop gnawing and how with me. In harmony. And the Good Wolf will chime in and maybe drown out the Bad Wolf. One can only hope.

Krissie: Good Wolf Lunch

images-15 So we’re taking lunch literally again. 243 on the doctor’s scale today (241.5 nekkid at home). But I’ve been trying for a few days. Using My Fitness Pal on the ipad — super easy and I really like it. Been going over my limit, so that in five weeks I’d lose 9 pounds (ugh) but I’m getting more organized again.
1. No fried foods (I was out and so tempted. Some fried foods would have fewer calories than the healthy choices I made. But no fried foods.
2. A glass of water for every beverage (Tab, Diet ginger ale, lemonade, etc.). I’m still down to mostly one Tab a day, sometimes two if I’m tired.
3. More veggies, more veggies, more veggies.
4. Do not make excuses at Crusie’s. No pancakes and fries with gravy etc. Those things won’t disappear. At some point I can treat myself. But right now, nope.
5. No sugar. No morning glory muffins or doughnuts or cookies or … anything. I can get sweet stuff from fruit.
6. Start swimming again

Here’s the deal. I had borderline ovarian cancer six year ago. They scheduled a hysterectomy in 5 days and the doctor was convinced it was bad. Fortunately it hadn’t popped yet, but I’ve been getting follow-ups like crazy. I’m down to only twice a year, I’m good with mammograms and colonoscopies and breast exams and pelvics and CA 125s etc. But I’ve been feeling pressure and uncomfortable, and my CA 125 was up just a smidge (well below normal). But I had a … not so much as a bad feeling, but a more of a sense that I better watch things. The strongest I’ve felt those warning signals since I had the original surgery. And the doctor said it was a little hard to feel things when she did a bi-manual. Of course it is. I have so much pudge there that if there’s a growth there’s no way to feel it. So (thwap!) with the Salmon of Correction. I ache all the time from dragging this weight around, I don’t fit my old clothes (too big) and I don’t fit my new clothes (a little too tight). Enough is enough.

I always look at fall as a time of new beginnings. I’m nesting. I’m cleaning out my office, we’re going to Lowes and Home Depot to buy paint and a new front door and hand rails and handles and all sorts of things.

So I would say I need my slavering, devouring bad wolf locked in a kennel, but you know, that’s not true. We need our bad wolf as well as our good one. To balance us out. We’re all part devouring self-destruction and glorious redemption (I know I’m hyperbolic but that’s the way I roll).

So my bad wolf is on strict rations, while my good wolf is enjoying salads and avocados and applesauce and water. Bad wolf is whispering “you need comfort” and “one little bag of chips won’t hurt” and “there’s nothing here to eat.”
Good Wolf says “suck it.”

What have you guys been battling? Are you ready for the Great Fall Renaissance? I’ve pumped and ready to do this thing!

Krissie: Good Wolf/Bad Wolf

Photo on 8-30-13 at 11.37 AM Well, I’ll be good and not mention how Tim showed up this morning at a most inappropriate time (sigh). Ah, well.
So, the Bad Wolf was busy this week, not with me so much but with people all around me. People dying before their time, fights, anger, depression, jobs falling apart. Not for me, but for everyone around me, and I keep wanting to fix everyone.
I haven’t seen my shrink in over a month, but I think what I need to work on is not to react so heavily to other people’s issues. Not take on my children’s anxiety and depression (or my husband’s). Not that they are currently anxious and/or depressed. But I think that’s my worst problem. Someone is feeling bad and I take that on myself, convinced if I just said or did the right thing it would make things better. I guess that’s a form of magical thinking.
I spent my life feeling that way. That I could fix my parents, fix my family. Then fix my brother, fix my sister. I canna even fix m’self. (Don’t know why I sudden developed a Scots brogue).
My bad wolf is always telling me I can do more. (I think that’s what Bad Wolves live for. To make us feel like we’re not doing enough). And for that matter, do men tend to worry that they’re not doing enough? I think that’s a mostly female problem, and we do everything already. Or maybe I’m being sexist, but somehow I don’t picture men fussing about not doing enough for the people and the problems around them.
Anyway, at my stately and dignified age I need to figure out how to detach with love. HOw to stop being dragged down into the mire, because it’s kind of like me being a lifeguard. I’m not a strong enough swimmer to save anyone, and they’d just dragged us both under.
Better that I float alone, serene, and people can swim to my side and rest for a bit before making it into shore. I can float forever (one benefit of avoid du pois).
Yes, that’s a good image. Of course the Good Wolf is a puppy and would swim around and around, doing the doggy paddle. No, that’s carrying the analogy too far. Bad Wolf — bad. Good wolf – good. Krissie? Floating peacefully in the midday sun.

Who’s winning the war for supremacy with you guys? Ah-oooooo. Werewolves of London!

Krissie: Bad Wolf Lunch

Photo on 8-23-13 at 9.56 AM Goddammit! That’s what I’m gonna look like if I don’t stop eating. Mind you, I was relatively good yesterday. I had one breakfast bar in the morning, when we went to Applebee’s I had a 4 oz. sirloin and a salad, when we came back I napped, had a couple of pretzel sticks, some watermelon, and then a frozen dinner with meatloaf, gravy and mashed potatoes! Damn damn damn. A couple of breakfast bars before I went to sleep because I had a craving for something sweet.
The bad wolf loooooves to eat. You know, if he really ate my liver like in Prometheus Bound at least I’d lose a few ounces. Not that I’ve been on a scale. I’ve just been eating.
Oh, it could be worse. I chose Applebees instead of Kathy’s because I knew I could get a good salad there. I didn’t buy the box of Madeleines that kept winking at me during the long wait in the checkout line at Walmart. (We had to buy a new remote control). But damn, Bad Wolf shoves food in front of me and nods approvingly while I show down, his jaws slavering, knowing I’m going to be a nice, plump morsel when he finally devours me whole.
Okay, now the Good Wolf is trying to be heard, but she’s got a smaller voice. She’s telling me I did NOT buy those Madeleines, when in the past I would have, and eaten them all. I didn’t buy chips, or take any that Jenny offered. I’d say I’m too hard on myself, but when you’ve been slipping and sliding you need to be hard.
Why do we love food so much? Why is it such a comfort? Is it because it’s the first comfort we know in life after being summarily yanked from the safety of the womb? Is it worse for those of us who didn’t have much mothering, or had a lot of chaos in our childhoods?
I don’t think so — so many people are struggling with eating and I’m assuming (wrongly, perhaps) that more people come from stable homes than don’t.
I think I need to learn to sit down at the table with the Bad Wolf and the Good Wolf and make my own choices. Good choices.
Or maybe I need my mouth wired shut.
You know, everything in my life is going well, so I find something small to fuss over. Yes, my health is important, it’s not small, but I’m also not out of control. Let me introduce Good Wolf:
“Okay, Krissie, you brat, remember yesterday? When a weird looking photo suddenly appeared on your iPhone and it looked like a hurricane photo. And then you saw it came from Erin and you looked closer and it was a sonogram of your grandchild?
Remember Eulalie the Glorious, who greets you with a happy ‘hello’ when you turn her on and gets 36 miles a gallon plus? Remember Richie, who misses you, the yarn, Alex, the book, … remember everything? Stop listening to the Bad Wolf — he’s full of shit. You’re aware and trying with the food, and life is glorious. Now shut up.”
Which I will.

Krissie: Good Wolf Lunch

Yeah, I know i should get off my butt and take some pictures. I meant to do that for Make-it Tuesday, and was too damned lazy. But I will.
Anyway, the Good Wolf has been snacking away this week, while BW grabbed hold on Tuesday. Lemme tell you about it.
Tim came over in a foul, frustrated mood, and he was a grumpy, spoiled brat basically having a temper tantrum and trying not to. He’d say something grumpy, then try to temporize it with “I know it’s not your fault” and then launch into it again. I got pissed, Richie withdrew, and Tim left for work, leaving us in bad moods. Tim called a few minutes later to apologize profusely and explain what was going on. (He really needs a therapist as well as a shrink. He has such anxiety problems and they always turn to anger at others). But I digress.
Once apologized to I forgive and get over it. In fact, most people don’t even have to apologize verbally — they can do it in future actions. I can think of only one time when I held a grudge (sorry, Sister B) and that was because of personal issues that had little to do with the actual bone of contention.
I would say I digress but I don’t.
I told Richie that Tim apologized. He harrumphed. And for the next few hours he stomped around, and brooded, and spoke in monosyllables, basically making me crazy. He said Tim has ruined his day. I finally got so mad and so disgusted that I took off, went over to Sally’s house even though she’s not there and quilted for a bit, coming home in a foul mood. Angry because Richie had let Tim’s behavior put a huge gloom over him that immediately ruined my day.
It wasn’t until we talked about it later that night that I realized what I’d been doing. Richie had reacted to Tim and gone into a funk, and because I was angry at Richie for doing it, I reacted to his mood and went into a funk.
We talked a lot about it. When we did a group support week when Tim was at one of his schools we learned a lot about ourselves and dealing with things, and they talked about kids chucking stuff in our pool to pollute it. We need a private pool they can’t reach.
It’s one of the basic truths of human relationships. We can’t change or control what the people we love do. We can only change our reaction to it.
So I sent Bad Wolf to the dog house after Tuesday, and Richie and I went and bought the new car (I’ll tell you about it later) and had a lovely day, and last night we went to the movies with Tony (Sally’s husband) and had a lovely time. (Saw “Two Guns” which was very amusing. Great chemistry.)
But I digress. Since then the Good Wolf has been curled up beside me (he doesn’t gnaw on my liver like BW) and yesterday I started the book!!! Writing gets to be such a huge thing if you keep putting it off — all it requires is fingers on the keyboard. So I’m just gonna write and not worry about where I’m going. At least until I get a good ways into it. I can plan and write at the same time, and sometimes I forget that fact. I’ve got Jenn’s new book on Scrivener which should help It’s Bad Wolf that makes me stop and question everything, in particular myself. Good Wolf is a happy puppy (a little like Milton) who jumps up and down and wants to lick your face. Bad Wolf bits your ankles. (And your liver).
So I got through a bad day and it’s been golden, I’ll drive down to see Crusie Sunday or Monday in the lovely new car. and it will be glorious. Nothing but good times ahead.
So this week it’s beed Bad Wolf 1, Good Wolf 6. Of course the weather is shockingly gorgeous, which helps.
How ’bout you guys? Who’s won?

Krissie: Bad Wolf Lunch

Photo on 8-9-13 at 9.47 AM So my video didn’t work, eh? I’ll have to figure it out — if worse comes to worst Jenny can help me.
But … back to this dyspeptic lunch of mine. What I loved about the play (well, I loved everything about the play except how tired I got) was that I had one priority for that period of time. All the other stuff could be ignored. But now all those tiny demons are clawing away at me, scraping my skin away, leaving me raw and exposed and bleeding and wolves can smell blood just like a shark and …
Deep breath. In general I’m not a worrier. That’s Richie’s job. In general I embrace life and look for solutions and laugh. An old roommate of mine, one I haven’t seen in well over forty years, emailed me and said when she thought of me she thought of the word Dionysiac. And think how even more so I am. ( 1 Greek Mythology relating to the god Dionysus. 2relating to the sensual, spontaneous, and emotional aspects of human nature. Compare with Apollonian.) And she mainly knew me before I was 23.
But I digress. I suddenly see too many things to do, too many things to juggle, and the problem is, so many of them are out of my control. I need to take a deep breath and start taking care of things, one by one.
1. Help Tim apply for a car loan
2. Help Tim and Erin find a place to live
3. Help Kaim find a loan for the last three semesters or work out a loan from us
4. Make arrangements for my new car.
5. Finish reading and revising NIGHTFALL
6. Start the new book
7. Pick up my sewing machine
8. clear my office
9. Unfuck my habitat
10. Calm down.
I’m going to be a grandmother. I’m already a grandmother, and I want to make very sure that Alex doesn’t feel he’s any less a grandchild than the new baby will be, but in fact, this will be Tim’s legal child (Alex isn’t — there’s still a sperm donor-type around who won’t let go of custody but who is downright horrid). And Erin’s (planned) pregnancy is bringing up all sorts of stuff long-buried and bad wolf is going num-num and good wolf is a happy puppy getting swatted away by the bad wolf and …

First off — in helping the kids. It’s what I do. Not enable them, but help them work toward independence so we can get the hell out of Dodge (but I can always come back and visit at the drop of a hat). Tim needs the help — he could qualify for disability but he doesn’t want to, and he’s working and we found a good used car for him that we’re not going to buy for him (we bought all his other cars). And Kaim’s stumped, so we’ll help her figure it out.
But I want to be out in the sunshine, dancing with the good wolf puppy. Not anxious about my family. I need to get them settled and off my plate so I can concentrate on me.

I know you’ll all tell me to let the kids sink or swim, but accept the fact that I can’t do that. I won’t enable them — it’s a lot easier for me to simply fork over money but I’m not going to do that. But I need to help them, push them a little, deal with stuff. And I need to shake off my demons.

So, Thwack! to the Bad Wolf. I think I need to figure out a little, silent ritual to get rid of him as he gnaws at my liver (yes, I know, I confuse him with Prometheus Bound but that had a profound effect on me when I was young). There’s a term for that, for little things you can do with your body to stop negative thoughts. Like tapping your forehead or something. Anyone remember what that was?
In the meantime, today is computer day. Look at car inventory, apply for Tim’s loan, read UFYH, read NIGHTFALL, make a start on the new book. I can do it. I am Dionysiac. Or Dionysian. Where are my grapes and toga?

I will wrest joy out of anxiety, damn it! If anyone can do it, I can.

Krissie: Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

Photo on 7-19-13 at 9.00 AM Okay, the photos are looking a little boring. Maybe I’d better “Act, damn you.” Prepare for some poses.
So Jenny’s Bad Wolf is a different one from mine. Jenny’s Bad Wolf chows down on “you’re stupid, you can’t get anything done, you’re self-indulgent” etc. (I’m paraphrasing – her Bad Wolf says “you should be doing this, not that” which is the same thing).
My Good Wolf is the sturdy mother of Romulus and Remus. She tells me I’m brilliant, she tells me I’m funny (though my Bad Wolf makes me go too far), she tells me I’m magnificent.
Which of course I am. I’m in my element right now, and there’s something very freeing about it having nothing to do with writing, because I define myself with my writing.
But I digress. It’s been hot and humid and my Bad Wolf has spent the week sleeping. Oh, he’s popped up every now and then, but mainly he’s been working behind the scenes, getting me to commit to too much.
Today I’m writing a blog, copying the mayor’s speeches onto index cards because he’s 80 and can’t remember, heading down to Cara’s for an hour and a half of sewing, then rehearsal and notes at 2, working till 4:30, picnic on the town green (I’ll probably run home and jump in the pool), then another run through from 5:30 to 9. It’ll be in the high 80’s and very humid.
Oh, and I have to make my Pick-a-little hat today, plus I filled out a college loan application (don’t judge me) that got denied.
I’ll come home, jump in the pool if there’s no lightning (I did yesterday in the rain) and then fall into bed.
I volunteered to do the sewing (lots of it). I volunteered to do the cards for the Mayor. I volunteered to make my hat.
I volunteered to make the apron. Ye Gods.
I don’t know whether it’s GW or BW who tells me I can do all this. I think the main problem is energy. Performing is a burn-out, of course, with lots of standing and posing (One Grecian Urn!) and a bit of running on stage, not to mention the creative energy. Draining myself ahead of time isn’t a good idea.
I just need to do the best I can, and set limits when I can. I sit at any possible moment.
I’m not complaining. I’m still having the best time in the world. I just wish the damned Bad Wolf would shut up and stop raising his hand. Next thing you know I’ll start offering to do PR and then I really would explode.
So, does your Bad Wolf sign up for things that are too much?
Or does he tell you not to try at all? I’d rather have one that makes me do too much than one who tries to frighten me.
And speaking of wolves, I’ll recommend a good Werewolf romance each Friday. The first, the best, is BITTEN by Kelley Armstrong.