Ren Faire

I'm so stinking proud of myself.

I got up this morning, fixed my hair and put on a little makeup in a thick silence of disapproval. It didn't stop me. I kissed everyone goodbye promptly at 9:30 a.m. and headed out the door. I was a little nervous but not too bad. Jumped on the freeway with no problems. Had a lovely 1 1/2 hour drive to Joplin and found Molly's house easily.

We yakked and yakked. Met her friends at the IHOP for lunch around 1:00 p.m. and then proceeded to the Ren Faire at the Joplin park where they shoot the fireworks off. (Is that where they do the Fourth of July thing? joke from lunch.) We roamed about laughing and talking some more. I found gee-gaws for the girls, picked up a leather bracelet for myself, and bought That Man a little knife set that I would have bought for myself (so if he hates it, oh, well, I get it).

I left around 5:30, found my way back to the freeway alone, and drove home. The monsters were outside playing as I pulled in a little after 7:00 p.m. They love their gifts. That Man has only said about 2 words to me all night.

But I did it. I had a great time. And I'm going to do it again.

Road Trip

I'm not sure how it happened, but somewhere over the years, I've become a non-driver.

Part of it was necessity: we only had one car for years. So when That Man had to be at the McDonalds on University Drive across the street from Texas A&M at 5:00 a.m., that's when I got to my TA office. Once in Nebraska I waited two hours after class for him to come pick me up. He was working nights at the prison and overslept. I called and called the house, but he didn't hear the phone, either. Of course, when I did finally wake him up, he was pissed off. Lord forbid he apologize for making me wait outside for two hours...

Part of it is fear. I've never been a confident driver, and over the years, I let that fear build in my mind. I've built it up where I don't like to drive even in Springfield. I forget that between 1988 and 1990 I LIVED in Springfield and drove regularly. I used to live in Joplin, too. I even drove I-44 a couple of times without blinking, once to take the GRE for grad school. All forgotten.

I used that excuse to not drive to Joplin, too, to see my sister. I'd have to take the freeway, and I hate freeways. Right? Why is that again? It's not like I don't know how to merge. I do. I drove in KC once and did have a bad experience, but that was a long time ago. I drove in St. Louis nad had a bad experience, then, too, but I didn't have an accident. (Almost did.) So I've built those close calls up in mind to excuse why I can't drive to Joplin, when in fact...

I think I just wanted to have an excuse so I wouldn't have to get into an argument with That Man.

If you've been reading many posts, you know that I'm on a crusade to take care of my artist as well as myself. Sis was going to come here this weekend, but then mentioned a Ren Faire in Joplin, and how she'd really like to go because when does one ever come so close to home?

And a lightning bolt went off in my head. I decided I should drive down there and go to that Ren Faire with her. It would be perfect--I could use the opportunity to research for Conn in Letters, because he does the Ren Faire circuit on the side. Besides, why should she be the one who drives up here all the time, especially with gas prices sky high? Just because of this supposed fear I've built up in my mind about driving? Or was it because any time I try to do something with her alone, it's a huge argument?

Ding Ding Ding

I broached the subject delicately with That Man, prepared for a war, but he didn't throw a big fit. No, he's been much more passive aggressive about it. *wg* He's giving me complicated directions that make no sense. He's suggesting the route that is ALL freeway. He roundabout forced me to invite my Dad to go (Lord forbid I go by myself, you know). He's already suggested I should take the kids (no surprise!).

Any bets how long it'll take him to get the kids all stirred up, begging to go with me? By Friday for sure.

I don't care. I'm going. Alone. And I'm going to have a grand time, freeways and all.

More Than A Pill

Over five years ago, I had a scare with some bleeding, had a colonoscopy done to eliminate cancer, polups, etc. and the doctor told me the best thing I could do was increase my fiber. (I'd just come off of a multi-month stint on Atkins, no carb diet.) Immediately, I returned to the high-fiber grains, vegetables and fruits that I loved. I've not had a single problem since (other than weight, obviously... but don't forget I've gone through 2 more kids since then.)

Now I could have taken Metamucil or swallowed a few pills to get the fiber, but it was easy enough to eat foods that I really did enjoy as well as were extremely healthy. I couldn't face taking a pill the rest of my life just to get more fiber when it was easy enough to correct with diet.

I can't comprehend people who have a serious health issue and are so narrow-minded and obstinant that they refuse to change their eating habits to LIVE.

That Man is diabetic. At first, he wasn't bad enough for medicine, but he's gotten worse each year. At his annual check up, the doctor keeps increasing his medicine. He tests his blood regularly, but doesn't actually DO anything about it. Week after week his blood sugar rises to 150 with medicine. Imagine how high it would be if he wasn't taking his pills? And he refuses to change his eating habits. I gave up regular Coke, isn't that enough?

Last check up, the doctor noted his cholesterol was high, well over 200. His triglycerides are triple what they should be. So he takes another pill or three. I think he's taking a handful a day now. Yet his doctor appointment on Friday was more bad news: potentially two surgeries, one minor, one not so minor, to correct other health issues. I haven't seen his blood work yet, but since he refuses to change his eating, I'm sure it's the same or worse.

Meanwhile, I'm constantly pressured not to diet. I can't believe you're ruining Littlest Monster's birthday by not having cake. I can't believe you're wasting a trip to a nice restaurant to have salad. I can't believe you don't want seconds. I can't believe you won't share quality time with me watching MASH reruns and eating chips. I can't believe you won't make me more Toll House Cookies. Why can't we go to ColdStone again? The kids would love some ice cream. So what if we ate it last night. How about pizza, too?

It drives me batshit insane. I told him: kill yourself if you want. Refuse to change. But you're not going to kill me and I refuse to let you turn our kids into diabetics too.

A pill doesn't fix dead from a heart attack at 43 does it? And that's where he's going.

Warning Signs

I haven't been able to keep my food journal going for 1-2 weeks. I start... and then totally forget about it. I don't know why, really. I was doing it every day for weeks, months without hesitation, but now I can't even remember to do it one day. I'm also bored with my food. I'm still watching my points, tallying in my head, but it's really easy to backslide.

So tomorrow, I will work really hard at journaling. I know that's a key factor in losing weight and keeping it off.

Shopping Tales: Since I'm going to the home office in two weeks *gah!!!* I went shopping this weekend. It's about the only time all year that I actually buy clothes for myself. I'm glad I started early instead of waiting until the last minute, because I really didn't see much that I liked. I still need larger sizes, so I'm rather limited in where I can shop. The first place was a total bust. I don't think I was even inside 5 minutes. The colors, the styles... They were horrendous. Ick.

So I went to Catherines today, which is really more expensive than I care to spend, but they have nice clothes. That Man and the kids were in the car, so I didn't have time to browse and browse, but I was definitely in there quite a while. I found a blouse I really, really liked, but I didn't like the pants that went with it. While I've lost a nice chunk, I'm kind of at an awkward stage, in between sizes or something. The pants just didn't suit at all, and they didn't have a skirt, which is what I really wanted.

I almost walked out, but decided to try a different skirt and blouse. The blouse was too big, which shocked me. (That's always nice!) I found a different pair of navy pants that worked with the other blouse. They're not as dressy, and I have 2 pairs like them already. (Which is part of why I didn't want to get them at first--they fit a little too loose around the waist, but the next size down is still too small.)

So two outfits, not bad, especially when my rub-off coupon they handed out at the door ended up being 40% off!

I look forward to the day when shopping is FUN and I can go anywhere, but for now, it's definitely nice to get new things every once in a while.

Crimson Underwear

One thing Julia Cameron recommended in The Writing Diet is to buy small luxuries for our artists. It doesn't have to be expensive -- just something our inner selves would cherish, something we deny ourselves for whatever reason. She recommended nice underwear.

At first I thought that was ridiculous. Since she recommends doing exactly those things that seem the most ridiculous...

Suddenly, I realized I'm still wearing the saggy underwear I commented on last year. Despite losing more than 50 pounds then, I never purchased new underwear that actually fit, let alone something nice and slightly racy.

So I bought some crimson satin underwear. Okay, I got them at Wal-Mart and not Victoria's Secret, and they're very normal and plain. Except for the color. And the satin, of course.

Whoa. It is amazing what a difference it makes to wear something nice, even something as small as new red panties. I wonder what other colors I will find...?

Ouch

Tonight was our monthly "date" with That Man's brothers and their wives. Our nephew watches the girls for a modest sum ($10) and we six enjoy an adult dinner. I decided to really dress up again; well, not in a dress, but I spent time on my hair, flat-ironed it, etc. I wore my favorite pants and shirt with my dressy heeled loafers.

We took the kids over to their cousins' house and picked up Aunt S to ride up into town with us. As we were walking back to the car....

I stubbed my toe on the sidewalk and did a full belly flop on the concrete of their driveway. Of course, my bad knee hit first. I hit my right elbow hard enough that I shattered the button on my mid-length shirt sleeves. At first nothing hurt too badly. I got up, dusted myself off, and felt like a bloomin' idiot.

As the night wore on, though, my knee really started to throb. I think it's just bruised, not wrenched, but it ached bad enough I took some asprin at the dessert place.

Dinner wasn't the greatest either. The boys picked out the restaurant, a hole-in-the-wall steak place. I figured they'd have grilled chicken. I mean, what kind of steak place doesn't have chicken? Evidently, THIS place. Sigh. The steaks were huge (e.g. min size 2 pounds!!!) and extremely expensive. That Man was determined he wanted a 2 pound rib eye. At $44, I certainly wasn't going to order a $25 salmon plate, the only other "healthy" item on the list. I agreed to eat a small portion of his steak.

Knowing that he had to share, don't you think he could have ordered it cooked where I could eat it? Well, you'd think... But no. It came out bleeding all over the plate, a huge roast of a steak, so squishy and raw that I could barely eat it. The salad was pre-marinated (so I couldn't order it with no dressing) and so strong (vinegar) that I only ate half. The only "edible" thing I had was boiled red potatoes and a few ounces of rib eye that I ate with my eyes closed so I didn't see how raw it was.

Of course, everyone wanted to go to ColdStone for ice cream. Honestly, that doesn't tempt me at all. I was already cold, and starving. I didn't want ice cream. So I went a few doors down and ordered a Mayan Mocha with skim milk and an extra shot of espresso. Figured I deserved that much.

All in all, not the greatest night. However, the guys all agreed that *I* get to pick the next restaurant, and I'm really going to think about it and pick a place that I would love to eat at, but I know That Man would never take me. It's going to be a place that has their menu online, so I can verify they have a reasonable healthy meal in advance!!

Closet Confessions

It never ceases to amaze me when I pull something old out of my closet and it still fits. Or even better, it's a little too big. Seriously, I pull on the skirt or shirt from last season or last year with a bit of dread in my throat. Will it fit? Will it make me feel fat? Will it look ridiculously tight? Can I blame it on the dryer? *G*

This weekend, we were guests at Aunt BB and Uncle J's church. For once, I really wanted to dress up. Oh, we go to church nearly every Sunday, the same church for over five years, but I rarely wear a dress or skirt. Actually, I can't remember the last time I wore a dress. Probably a home office trip or two ago. I've gotten out of the habit of wearing makeup, and I've already covered how long it'd been since I colored my hair or had a nice cut.

So this time, I wanted to look really nice. I've been wanting to visit their church for a long time. It's much smaller than ours (300 vs. over 2000 members) and of course knowing somebody that actually goes.... Yes, we've been going to the same church for five years and know (I mean really know, as in sit by and visit as we wait for service to start) NO ONE. Okay, well, one of his ex-bosses attends with his wife, but it's hi, see you later in the hallway while we're picking up the kids. We also see That Man's doctor nearly ever Sunday, but the man reminds me of a creepy cult doctor. I don't know why, he just does. Other than these two instances, we don't know anybody at our church. It's just too big, and visiting or making friends isn't either of our strong points.

I got up early Sunday (even though their service is later than ours) and flat-ironed my hair. It didn't come out half bad. I also put on light makeup (the Bare Minerals kind of stuff I can buy from Wal-Mart). Lastly, I had to get dressed. Gulp. What would I wear? Would it still fit? I'd gained back quite a bit of the weight I'd lost last year, although I've made great strides in removing it again on WW...

I was *relieved* when the outfit I planned actually fit and looked nice. It was comfortable, didn't bind, the shirt didn't gape across my chest or ride up over my hips. All serious concerns for the heavily overweight. Even my pantyhose fit! (Another closet nightmare.)

Quite the victory. That Man even complimented me. (I about died.) The kids couldn't stop giggling that Mom had actually worn tight-tights. *snickers* On the other hand, it's really sad that my getting dressed up was such an affair. Note to self: do this more often. Second Note to Self: Buy a new dress. *G*

Another Me Day

It's been a rough week on the homefront thanks to a crisis with Littlest Monster. She brought some very unwelcome guests home from church last Sunday and this week has been a nightmare. Despite having a horrific disgusting week, I've been on plan and writing in my journal nearly every day. I didn't get my exercise in, but the weather is turning nice and I know it's going to be easier every single day. Once life settles down a little...

The best part, though, happened today. Aunt BB and I took our outing to Sally's as we planned. We browsed I don't know how long, and she helped me pick out a new fab hair color. I went Dark Burgundy Brown, quite darker than I've done in a while. What's fun this time is I bought all the stuff separate instead of in a box (with the salesperson's help). I bought a huge bottle of developer, so next time all I need is the bottle of color, which is under $3. I typically pay $10 a bottle at the store. I also bought a protein filler (I didn't even know there was such a thing) that helps coat my gray better and make my color more uniform. Then I bought a generic Chi and a heat protector for my hair. I haven't used it yet, but I did color my hair tonight as soon as we got home. Aunt BB loves it, and I do too.

Then we went to Starbucks and visited for about an hour. She left one of my new bookmarks in there. :-) Actually, she's been leaving them all over town, bless her heart.

It wasn't a trip alone. It was better. I had a great time doing girlie stuff I don't typically do and got to visit with Aunt BB without the kids hanging all over us. It was great!

Taking Care of Me Part 1

Thank you, Wanda, Jess, and Jean for your comments, for simply listening to me! For now, I'll leave the post up. I'm also not going to sit around bemoaning the situation. I refuse to be a victim, because that leads to more pity party and more falling into line with what someone else wants. Not what I want.

So first up this week, I took more initiative to find time for myself. One night I did the WATP tape with PM (even MM joined at the end) (exercise, good, even though it wasn't alone), but the night before last I went out for a walk alone while the monsters were taking their baths. Yes, That Man suggested it when I said I wished I had time for a walk, and he did LM's bath while the two oldest helped each other in the shower. (I rinsed MM's hair for her before stepping out). It was colder than I planned and almost dark, but I walked 30 minutes alone and it was wonderful. No kids whining, my feet hurt, why can't I have Pepper, how much further?

Last night, MM needed some medicine and That Man was really grouchy and stressed by his work, so I went out alone to WalGreens. It was nearly dark (and I really hate to drive, especially after dark), but if I'm going to do anything alone I have to be willing to drive to get there. I picked up the medicine as well as some lotion for myself, and because MM also needed snacks for school, I went by the grocery store. I bought myself a medium skinny honey latte while I shopped and made my way home very leisurely.

While driving home, I decided I'd talk to my Dad this weekend and make a plan for me to drive up to his house and ride horses. The kids will be devastated because they LOVE Papa's horses, but they'll just have to get over it. The idea of being outside and on horseback, which I haven't done since college, sounds really really good, despite the 1 1/2 hour drive to get there. Even if he rides with me, which will be fine, I'm going to count it as an artist's date.

I've done my morning pages each day, although it's really cut into my writing time. I've gotten very little words on my stories, but I'm hoping eventually everything will even out. It's not just the journal that has distracted me in the morning, so I refuse to use that as excuse to stop.

I have a list of artist dates to try alone.

I have a list of positive affirmations that I read each morning.

Bless Julia Cameron--I really feel like these books came exactly when I needed them.

Oh, I also have an appointment to get my haircut this afternoon!

Pandora's Box

Many of us use food to stuff or deny our feelings. ~ The Writing Life, Julia Cameron, p. 152

A couple of days ago, if you'd asked me if I did this, or if I binged, I would have staunchly denied it. I don't keep food and graze on it. Well, except for Lays, but really, those don't count, do they? And I certainly never use food to deny my feelings. I don't get up in the middle of the night and binge on chips or ice cream.

No, I binge on those chips while sitting in front of the TV with That Man.

Umm. Interesting thought. Yes?

I was doing well on my diet until last fall when I had my home office trip (Sept). I blamed my derailment on traveling, eating out, not having my foods readily available. Still, though, I didn't eat that badly while I was up there. No, the slippage came after. When I got home. I couldn't get back on my diet to save my life. I sank deeper and deeper, off track. I was depressed. Writing was slow after Nov. and I was depressed about that, too. Writing, my great personal joy, my dream, depressed me. Why? Why was I having such a hard time?

I need to journal more about everything, but reading the chapter on Pandora's Box in The Writing Diet brought tears to my eyes. While I was in MN for that trip, I had two heart-to-heart talks with people that I'd never have while I was home. One night I talked to my Dad for nearly two hours. On the way to the airport, I admitted something very serious to Wanda. I'm sure you remember, my friend.

I admitted it out loud.

And it's like my psyche had to retreat. Retreat from that reality, that anger. That's what I think happened, at least.

I don't do well with conflict, that's a given. When I'm dieting and Eating Clean (as Julia calls it in the book--low sugar, low fat, fresh foods, unprocessed, lean meats, etc), I have more conflicts with That Man. We argue more about everything, not just food. It takes a toll on me that I don't even realize until I finally just crumble. And then I sit in front of the TV with him and eat Lays chips until the bag is gone.

I'm going to have to work this out. I think this is why every diet I've ever gone on in the past has failed. It has nothing to do with food, and everything to do with myself.

I think I also now understand another reason the last few years have been so difficult, not just financially (that was the outward result of me being a doormat all these years). Writing. I suspected it, but couldn't really figure out all the whys and wherefores.

Julia uses writing as a weapon to help us understand our relationship with food, and therefore our relationships with ourselves and others. Writing forces us to see deeper. To be honest. If we're not honest, it shows in the writing. Another reason my creativity suffered over the holidays. I wasn't being honest with myself about why I was so depressed. Also probably why at least unconsciously, That Man resents my writing. It's not just the time "away." It's what I think and feel when I'm honest.

I might delete this post later. I don't like personal stuff like this out where everyone and their perverts can read about it. None of my family read this blog to my knowledge but that might change someday. You can bet all of this will be sorted out in that priceless journal I bought for myself.