The Dress

The media is saturated with the Royal Wedding today. There's no getting around it. I'm not one of those people who had to get up early to watch it. I'm content to look at photos online.

I will admit that I couldn't wait to see The Dress and I was expecting something a little over-the-top. This is a royal wedding, right? The Dress should be something that us mere mortals wouldn't be able to wear. Look at Princess Di's giant meringue of a dress with it's 25-foot train 30 years ago. (Unfortunately, that dress made poofs, ruffles, and bows trendy all through my middle school years.)

The Dress was the first thing I looked for as soon as I logged onto the computer this morning. My reaction? Instantly, I thought of both Grace Kelly and Queen Elizabeth. I couldn't decide who's dress it favored more. So I headed to Google and it turns out that The Dress looks more like Grace Kelly's dress but there are some influences from the Queen's wedding dress as well.

Honestly, I think it's very tasteful. Retro with a modern flair. I also think (hope) that the design of the dress and the modest bouquet display a practicality and maturity for the future royals.

****
Your Turn
What do you think of The Dress? Did you watch the Royal Wedding?

Photo Credit: Sipa; Reuters/Landov

Movie Review in Bullet Points

Last night I met up with a couple of friends for dinner and a movie. It was fun catching up with the girls over an easy, casual dinner at a deli before we saw Water for Elephants.

The movie is beautiful. The landscape, the scenery, the colors, the animals, the way it was shot – all beautiful.

I love Rosie the elephant.

The circus owner/ring master is a true villain. So very easy to hate and despise.

Robert Pattinson (I still want to call him Cedric Diggory) looks so much better with a tan than he does with that pale vampire make-up.

There’s not a drop of chemistry between Pattinson and Reese Witherspoon. The characters are supposed to be the loves of each other’s lives but honestly, I couldn’t picture them being more than just really good friends. The one love scene in the movie was awkward to watch.

Pattinson and Rosie have much better on-screen chemistry. She really seems to like him and is affectionate towards him.

Thankfully, there weren’t any scary clowns.

I couldn’t bear to watch the simulated elephant abuse scenes. I KNOW they weren’t real but they were horrible just the same.

It’s been a few years since I read the book but as well as I can remember, the movie follows the book very closely.

Overall, I enjoyed the movie. I recommend seeing it with the fair warning about the animal abuse.

Playing too hard?

Six months ago I tore the connective tissue in my left foot during my one and only Zumba class and had to wear a really ugly shoe for a few weeks.

Last month I jammed the thumb on my right hand doing I don’t know what. I yanked on it really hard and popped it back out. I couldn’t use my thumb for a couple of weeks but now it seems to be almost completely healed.

Most recently, I pulled a muscle in my left thigh two weeks ago while out riding my bike with G-Man. Ever since I stopped taking Seroquel five weeks ago, I’ve had much more energy. I want to get out and DO because I feel like I’ve missed so much in the past year and because it will take me about a year of healthy, active living to get my body back in shape.

Since this part of Florida is so flat, I put my bike in the highest gear and ride HARD. Plus I have a 14-year-old kid that I have to keep up with! So two weeks ago I pulled a muscle. I realized it right away and iced my leg as soon as I got home. I rested my leg for a week. In the interim I worked my upper body on the Bowflex and walked moderately.

Last week G-Man and I went for an easy bike ride. About a half mile from home I pulled the same muscle again. I guess I didn’t rest it long enough. More ice. More rest.

Finally, on Monday I pushed a full library cart up a ramp to a building. Not wanting to strain my back I made certain that I pushed with my legs. This time I actually felt a tearing sensation in my thigh. Ouch and Yuck!

I have been a little bit on the miserable side for the past two days. My thigh is throbbing and not in a good way. I can’t walk or stand for very long and I definitely can’t walk up stairs. Finding a comfortable sleeping position has been a challenge but I finally figured that out. The anti-inflammatories that I’ve been taking hurt my stomach. And when I wrap my thigh with an Ace bandage, it slides down to my ankle by the time I get to work.

My friend, Marcia suggested that I should just live in a pool full of water so I don’t hurt myself. I think she has a valid point.

What I really want to know is this…

Am I accident prone/clumsy or do I play too hard?

Just when I thought I was young & hip

When we moved away from the military life and to Florida almost 14 years ago, I felt like I never really connected with other moms. The moms of children the same age as my boys were at least a good 10 years older than me. And women my age either weren’t married or didn’t have children yet. No one really wanted to hang out with me when all I could intelligently talk about were my kids.

I just didn’t fit in anywhere. For many years I felt like a misfit. My social life wasn’t very exciting. Girls’ Night Out just didn’t happen.

Within the past couple of years I’ve found a new social niche that’s actually quite comfortable – women 10-15 years younger than me who are single or married without kids.

Now that the boys are teenagers and don’t require 112% of my attention, I’ve found that I can go out, be social, not watch the clock, AND talk about other stuff. The tables have turned. I can blend in with the demographic that couldn’t relate to me 14 years ago.

Yep, hanging out with the group of 20-something women at the office really makes me feel hip and cool. I feel like I’m in the KNOW. Granted, these women are closer in age to my eldest son than to me but that really doesn’t matter.

That is until something comes up in conversation that proves I was in high school when they were born.

Today I tried to explain a mimeograph machine to three of my co-workers. It was painful for me. They couldn’t grasp the concept of the stencil, dittos, purple printing, the smell of the ink, the hand-cranked drum, or why the paper came out damp. Even after I sent them the link to Wikipedia, they stared at me blankly.

I thought if they could relate it to a movie, they might know what I was talking about. So I asked if they had ever seen Animal House.

(cricket cricket)

Is that the movie about the fraternity?

Ugh!

****
Your Turn
Someone PLEASE tell me that you remember a mimeograph machine! Or that you have at least seen Animal House.

The Egg Hunt

We leave for the Naval Academy in two months. In addition to the stack of paperwork Mr. A has to complete, we have everything else that pops up on the calendar this busy time of year:

Family weekend at the beach, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, three birthdays, AP exams, final exams, prom, Memorial Day, Bacon Day, Grad Night, graduation, and a going away party.

It’s a pretty full schedule and quite honestly I didn’t put that much thought into Easter. Our plans included going to my mother-in-law’s house for brunch and then going to my parents’ house for dessert. I didn’t have to host or cook so I decided to coast through the holiday.

So I was a little surprised when Mr. A asked to do an Easter Egg hunt. What? I haven’t hidden eggs for the boys for I don’t know how many years. In fact, my Sweetie recently found the old plastic eggs in the pantry and took them to Goodwill.

As the boys grew older over the years, they got too good finding the eggs that I hid. I remember that one year they found the eggs in two minutes flat. The year after, I developed a scavenger hunt for the boys. That tradition only lasted a few years until the boys got too clever for me. It took me much longer to create the puzzles than it did for the boys to solve them.

Anyway, yesterday I stopped by the store and bought a package of 42 plastic eggs, more Peeps, malted eggs, and a couple of chocolate bunnies. I sat at the kitchen table filling the eggs with foil-wrapped chocolate eggs that I bought earlier and wondered when the heck I was to hide them because the kids usually stay up later than S and I.

This morning we got up before the boys and hid everything. Let me tell ya, if you need Easter eggs hidden, get my Sweetie to do it. The eggs were hid so well that it took the boys almost half an hour and a little bit of help to find every last egg.

I’ve been so busy mentally preparing for my eldest son to become an adult that I didn’t stop to think that he might enjoy being a kid for as long as he can.

Fuzzy Chick at Four Weeks

Look how big the little guy/girl has gotten! Those are some big feet.

G-Man and I caught up to the Sandhill Crane family last night as they made their way back to the nest.

They seemed to have finished eating for the evening and set about a little bit of housekeeping...

...and personal grooming.

Overheard

Overheard in our house last night...

G-MAN! STOP MUTILATING THE PEEPS!

Suddenly I had a flashback to the Gingerbread House Incident 2010.

Life with Boys: Pink & Fluffy

I live with three boys. Yes, I count my husband as one of the boys because really, do they ever grow up?

We own a truck, a Jeep, and a fishing boat. The garage is full of fishing gear, golf equipment, and power tools. There’s a Bowflex in the den. I find flip-flops and ball caps scattered around the house. I don’t dare step foot in the boys’ bathroom. I think the TV in the den is perpetually tuned to ESPN. The other most popular TV shows in the house are NCIS and Burn Notice.

I will admit that I enjoy all of the above things (except the boys’ bathroom and ESPN) and there are advantages to being the only girl in the house such as: never having to mow the lawn or carry in the groceries.

But this past weekend I felt completely out numbered. I felt like an island. I wanted to be girly but lacked a co-conspirator.

Friday night we went to an English pub for dinner and played pool. I lost miserably which I don’t understand because I used to be very good. I blame the hardware in my back. Saturday included working on the Jeep, stick shift driving lessons for Mr. A, and the Hose Incident. Sunday night we had a Jason Bourne movie marathon. By this time, I had my fill of the non-stop 48 hours of movie quotes, fake Russian accents, fart jokes, and “That’s what she said” jokes.

Finally, I screamed trying to express my frustration but couldn’t quite verbalize my exasperation.

I WANT SOMETHING PINK & FLUFFY!

That only prompted more Despicable Me movie quotes.

Gosh, I need some girl time.

Estufa

My parents, brother, sister, and I all used to be avid scuba divers. It was a family activity that we all enjoyed. During the 80’s and early 90’s we spent A LOT of time in Cozumel, Mexico for the sole purpose of diving the reefs such as Palancar. We spent so much time down there that my parents bought a vacation home on the island.

This was way back before Cozumel became the mega cruise ship port that it is today. The island was rustic and knowing a little bit of Spanish was essential for getting around. I took two years of Spanish in high school however I learned most of my applicable Spanish in Cozumel. I even spoke with a Yucatán accent much to the amusement of the locals and the chagrin of my teachers. Imagine someone from Japan learning English with a Southern accent. That’s how odd a redheaded, American girl with a Yucatán accent seemed to the natives of Cozumel.

The summer after my freshman year in college, my mom and I went down to Cozumel for a couple of weeks of diving and maintenance on the house. Earlier in the year, my parents had discovered a new dive operation so this trip was my first time diving with the new dive masters, crew, boats, etc…

After a dive one day, I floated on the surface waiting for my turn to get back on the dive boat. I took off my gear, relaxed, and listened to the chatter between the dive master floating along side of me and the deck crew hoisting the other divers’ gear onto the boat. Suddenly, my ears perked up and I asked the dive master,

Did he just call me a stove? (Indicating one of the crew members)

The dive master blanched.

You speak Spanish?

Yea, enough. But I don’t understand why he called me estufa.

The deck crew got very quiet. The diver master swallowed hard and asked,

Well, what does a stove do?

It cooks. It gets hot.

Sí! Exactly!

Okaaaay, now I understand.

Flattered, I smiled and the dive master relaxed. Then he hurled an onslaught of insults at the deck crew. When I got on the boat, I receive hundreds of apologies and so on for the two weeks after that.

****

A couple of weeks ago I got intensely hot. My face felt like I had been sitting too close to a roaring fire. I couldn’t cool off even though the thermostat in the office read 74°. I texted my husband,

I think I’m having an honest to goodness HOT FLASH!

He replied,

Well, you are my little estufa.

I love that man.

Can you hear me now?

Saturday I did something that I haven’t done in a very long time. I planted flowers in the front yard. Back around Valentine’s Day I saw some beautiful orchids and comtemplated buying a plant. But then I talked myself out of it because I didn’t want to put forth the effort to care for the orchid.

So I see the fact that I had the gumption to go to the nursery, select plants all on my own, come home and plant them with the intent to care for them as a really, big deal.

The front of our house gets a lot of hot, Florida summer sun so I selected geraniums and cosmos. When I was little, I didn’t like geraniums because that’s what my mother ALWAYS planted on our patio that also received full, summer sun. Year after year, I begged my mom to mix it up and buy different flowers. But she insisted that the geraniums were the only flowers she knew of that could take the heat. Now, years later, geraniums remind me of my mom and Pines Lake so they were an easy choice for me.

As I planted the flowers, I asked G-Man to pull around the hose and water the plants in. He was gone for a while and came back with the watering can. I asked about the hose and he said the watering can would be easier. I didn’t want to tell him what to so I let him go on his way.

Later in the afternoon, I noticed that the flowers looked a little limp and needed more water. My Sweetie offered to do it for me and went around the side of the house to fetch the hose. He came back around, stormed in the house, and asked the boys,

What the HECK happened to the garden hose?

The excuses/explinations ranged from “I don’t know” to “I may have hit it with the lawnmower.” After a few more minutes of playing “Let’s dodge the direct questions,” we finally learned the truth.

G-Man decided to conduct a hydro drilling experiment with the garden hose. He put the nozzle in the ground and turn on the water. The pressurized water easily bored through the sandy soil. G-Man continued to feed the hose down into the hole. When he tried to pull the hose out, he discorved that it couldn’t because it had gone down THAT far. He panicked and cut the hose with a saw.

We still haven't figured out what possessed G-Man to do any of the above.

My Sweetie decided to dig out the hose because gosh darn it, that brass nozzle cost about $15. About two feet down he cut throught the Verizon Fios cable with the shovel. Good-bye TV, internet, and home phone.

Verizon should be out by Monday night to fix the issue. In the meantime, I've jumped one one of our neighbor's wi-fi networks. One of our neighbors that isn't smart enough to password protect their network.

Next we're off to the hardware store to buy a new garden hose… and nozzle because the brass one is still about 5 feet underground.

****
Your Turn
Really, what could have possessed G-Man to do that with the hose? Have you or your kids ever have an "experiment" go bad? What would you do without TV,internet, or phone for an entire weekend? Would you hi-jack your neighbor's wi-fi?

New Diagnosis

Relieved. Tired. Exhausted. Happy. Relaxed. Joyful.

I feel all of those things right now.

I feel like Erica.

These past few weeks that I’ve been off the Seroquel (anti-psychotic medication) have been wonderful. I’m the real me again. For the first time in 10 months my therapist has seen my actual personality and we’ve had some excellent conversations.

Two weeks ago a light bulb went off over her head and she said,

I don’t think you have cyclical depression at all. I think you have PTSD.

Ya think? I was in an abusive marriage for 10 years. I was in fear of my safety and the safety of my children. I was in fight or flight mode FOR 10 YEARS! After my divorce I had all the classic symptoms of PTSD: nightmares, anxiety attacks, hyper vigilance, flask backs, memory loss of traumatic events, etc…

My GP originally mentioned PTSD years ago but I think as depression settled in, her treatment focus switched to that. And yes, PTSD can cause depression.

I met with the psychiatrist today and he confirmed the PTSD diagnosis. Since I'm doing so well on my current antidepressant and therapy, he wants to leave things status quo for another few weeks and then I'll check back in with him.

So why am I so relieved?

Because if all of this is really PTSD and not Major Depressive Recurrent, then I DON'T have to be on medication for the rest of my life. Yes, PTSD is a bitch. It is crippling. But I've survived the worst of it. I lived with my ex-husband for 10 years and the resulting after effects for the past nine years. Nineteen years and I'm only 41. That's almost half my life.

I'm happy because I can confidently say that I've worked through 95-98% of the PTSD. I feel that I'm in the home stretch. I also know that I've come so far because of the love and support of my fabulous husband and parents. If it wasn't for them, I would have gone mad years ago.

I'm so looking forward to the rest of my life.

Tax Time

This year my Sweetie and I owed on our taxes for the very first time ever. We're not really sure what happened but my employer didn't withold as much as last year. Since we owed, we waited until this week to file. S just completed the unpleasant task, walked out of the den, and annouced:

I just made our latest contribution to Mr. A's college fund.

It isn't as painful when we phrase it that way.

Woes of the Second Child

G-Man is suffering from Second Child Syndrome. He’s almost 15 years old, a little bit on the surly side, and full of attitude. Who can really blame him? All the talk in the house for the past several months has been about taking his older brother to the US Naval Academy in June. We’ve been planning Mr. A’s going away party but haven’t mentioned G-Man’s birthday party (His birthday is June 25th and we leave on our road trip on the 27th.)

Heck, if I was a sibling of Mr. A’s I’d be sick and tired of hearing about him too.

I used to joke that I was glad that we didn’t have any more children after G-Man because I didn’t want him to be the middle child. I’m the youngest of three. My sister is the middle child in our family. I always felt that she had a chip on her shoulder about the whole birth order thing. But I never expected being the second child would be an issue with G-Man.

It’s true the first-born child gets the undivided attention of Mom and Dad until the next sibling shows up. The second child rarely gets that one-on-one time. That’s why I so looked forward to Mr. A going to preschool after his brother was born and I could have G-Man all to myself for a few hours a morning, three days a week.

G-Man has always lived in his brother’s shadow. We’ve tried to reinforce to G-Man that he is a different person than his brother and had his own unique talents. We’ve raised both boys the same way morally and expect each of them to try their best in whatever they do. We’ve also explained to the boys that the results of their best efforts will be different for each of them.

While I’ve been trying to cram in as much quality time with Mr. A before he leaves in June, I’m also looking forward to when G-Man will be our only kid in the house. I want to spend one-on-one time with my youngest son again. I want to try to draw him out of shell once and for all.

But in the meantime, I don’t know what to do. G-Man accompanied me on my bike ride last night and I tried to talk to him about his birthday but I didn’t get much of a response. Should I just hold tight until G-Man has the spotlight all to himself?


****

Your Turn
Do you have any suggestions for what I should do with G-Man? Do you think that birth order affects personality? Where are you in the birth order?

Breaking News?

I used to watch the nightly news religiously. I was up to speed on local, national, and international news. I always knew what was going on around the world.

Then came September 11, 2001. Like every other American I was glued to the TV and internet for days waiting for the smallest scrap of positive news. On September 14th, a hurricane blew over our house and we lost power. I sat at the kitchen table listening to the national memorial services on the radio. I sat there alone crying while the boys played quietly in the other room. That’s when I decided to turn off the news.

I haven’t watched a TV news broadcast since. I listen for the weather and traffic on the radio and then change the station when the news starts. I don’t even bother with the newspaper anymore (except for the coupons I swipe from my parents).

Instead I get my information from the internet. I’ve learned that I can scan the headlines and then pick and choose what I want to read. If I want more information, I can easily do a search. Like everything else on the internet, I see the news as a self-select item. It’s not jammed down my throat like the evening news on TV.

With my method of receiving information I still manage to stay on top of current events enough to satisfy myself. I’ll admit that I’m not big on politics or what’s going on in the Middle East. If I have question, I find it easier to ask my Sweetie or Mr. A since they’ve probably already discussed it at some point.

There is a drawback to online news. Fluff. I use Yahoo for my personal email so the first headlines of the day usually come from Yahoo News. Yahoo incorporates feeds from their Entertainment, Sports, and Health news pages into their daily headlines. Sometimes I find great recipes for weekday meals. Last December I read a report about how Echinacea is better at fighting a cold than Vitamin C. A month or so ago I learned that Olympian Greg Louganis is now coaching diving. All stuff that I find interesting.

However, over the past few days I’ve notice two items that appeared under BREAKING NEWS that made me wonder.

Last week it was announced that Angelina Jolie has a new tattoo of map coordinates on her arm. This news lead to wild speculations on whether or not she’s adopted another child.

Then just today Natalie Portman announced that she had given up veganism in favor of vegetarianism while she’s pregnant because her body was craving eggs and cookies baked with eggs.

How are either one of those items BREAKING NEWS???

And yes, I will admit that I read both items simply because they were labeled BREAKING NEWS and I thought there might be something profound in the article.

So now I can either be grumpy that I got sucked in by the internet news or I can be glad that I’m current on my pop culture. Actually, I think both of those tidbits fall into the category of useless trivia.

****
Your Turn
How do you get your news? Are you up-to-date of world events? Do you prefer politics or entertainment news? Can you think of a reason why the articles on Angelina Jolie or Natalie Portman would be BREAKING NEWS?

Randomness

Friday night while driving home from dinner, the car in front of us slowed down and stopped. We pulled over to the next lane to pass the car. There was a mound of something in the middle of the road but we couldn’t see what it was. Slowly the car proceeded and an OWL rolled out from under the car. I screamed very helpfully, It’s an OWL! I made my Sweetie turn around and go back to see if we could help the owl. I have no idea what we would have done with an injured owl at 9:00 pm but none of us could drive away. When we got back around another car had stopped too. S and a teenage boy from the other car approcahed the owl sitting in the middle of the road and the bird flew off to a wooded area. Just to be sure, we looped aroud again and found the owl sitting in the grass. He looked annoyed when S approached him again and this time flew off to the trees apparently unharmed.

****

Ever watch a dog dream? Sometimes they run, woof, or growl in their sleep? Well, Molly is the only dog I’ve even known to wag her tail in her sleep. She will actually wake me up in the middle of the night when her tail thumps on the hardwood floor.

****

Saturday the boys participated in Relay for Life and were gone for the afternoon and entire night. S and I weren’t really quite sure what to do with ourselves. We went to the movies, then birthday present shopping, and finally out to dinner. We encountered two very odiferous women at two separate places. While wallking into the auditorium at the multi-plex, an obese woman walked in front of me and she reeked of body odor. We paused before we followed her in. Once inside, we quickly found our seats while she and her husband wandered around. Then they decided to sit next to me. S and I got up and moved three rows back. Whew! Dodged that bullet. The second woman was doused in heavy perfume and sat at the table next to us at the Japanese restaurant. The perfume was cloying and made me cough and my eyes water. What do you do in a situation like that? There were other available tables. Do you ask them to move seats? S and I hurried up to finish our meal, paid the bill, and left. We were really enoying ourselves and it would have been nice to sit at our table and relax a little bit.

****

After hundreds of thousands of years of evolution, you would think that the big toe hair would have been eliminated by now. Really, what’s its purpose?

****

Lately I’ve noticed that my feet hurt after I’ve gone for really long walks. I came to the conclusion that I needed to get some new sneakers. S urged me to try New Balance shoes. He really likes them and they are still made in the US. I’ve tried New Balance shoes in the past at discount stores and I always found them too tight across my foot and not enough support for my high arch. But I agreed this morning to go to the NB store to get properly fitted. Well, the shoes still don’t fit me comfortably. The sales woman seemed rather annoyed that I didn’t like them. She even tried to convince me to buy a pair of orthodics to put in the shoes so they would fit better. Why, oh why would I buy $145 shoes and then put $60 orthodics in them? Instead we went to the Adidas outlet and I bought a pair of sneakers for $70 that actually fit my high arch without inserts.

****

Mr. A received his registration packet for the Naval Academy. The manila envelope contains an inch-thick stack of informational papers and forms. I just looked through it briefly. It was an overwhelming reminder that our son is not only leaving for college but also entering the military. Deep breath.

Photo courtesy of The United States Naval Academy. Class of 2014 Induction.

Fuzzy Chick at Two Weeks

Last night I grabbed my camera, walked down to the lake, and watched the Sandhill Crane family for awhile. The little guy (or girl) has grown so much in just two weeks.

When either parent found a morsel in the grass or the water the little one would come running for a snack. I watched them for half an hour and I couldn't figure out how the parents signaled the chick but he always knew who had the food and when.

After a day of foraging, the family made it's way back to the nest. We've had a lot of unseasonal rain lately so the parents had to build their nest back up.

The rest of the photos are a few shots I got of the parents. And they really are great parents.

Life With Boys: Shortest Person in the House

The day was destined to arrive. I knew 15 years ago that with sons I would eventually be the shortest person in the house. At the above average height of 5’9” that’s a little hard to accept. But the infamous growth chart inside the archway to the kitchen says so.

Well, now I know what happens to kids when you feed them!

****
Your Turn
Did your parents record your growth on a wall or door jamb? Do you do the same for your children?

Emotional Eating (Or Not)

I mentioned last week that I’ve been seeing a therapist on a weekly basis since last June. I also mentioned that she’s been getting on my nerves of late. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s a competent and conscientious therapist. If I didn’t feel that way, I wouldn’t meet with her.

However, she has recently annoyed me by insisting on more than one occasion that the medication I have taken to battle my depression is NOT the cause of my weight gain. She doesn’t believe that medication causes weight gain (at all) and insists that I must have been emotionally eating.

Well, three different medical doctors (my therapist is a PhD) have told me that yes, in fact the medication I took DOES cause weight gain.

While analyzing this via text messages with a friend, I pointed out that I don’t emotionally eat. When I’m stressed or upset I DON’T eat! I exclaimed, That’s while I was so underweight the entire time I was married to Peckerhead!

I was so stressed the entire 10 years I was married to my ex-husband that I barely ate. I was underweight. During both of my pregnancies my doctors urged me to eat more and gain weight and I did. I gained a healthy 27 pounds each time. But even at full-term I barely slipped into the healthy weight range for my height. I was still boney. No luscious, feminine curves.

Over the years, I managed to throw out all the photos of myself from that time period because I couldn’t stand to look at my gaunt face.

****

Later that day on my drive home from work I paused and reflected.

If I was so stressed that I barely ate for 10 years, how in the world did I not screw up my children?

I sat at the red light and mentally waited for a moment. Then I decided that I didn’t want to pursue that line of questioning. I don’t want to question the How and the Why of our two totally awesome sons. Those 10 years are gone. I want to look to the future with my Sweetie and the two kids I managed NOT to screw up.

I guess I would make a lousy psychologist.

****
Note: After the divorce I began to eat normally again and gained enough weight to put me in the healthy weight range and earned me some womanly curves. I maintained my healthy weight until depression smacked my upside the head and the medication made me extra plumpy.

Bridge Walk

Sunday morning I met two friends for a walk over the downtown bridge – a popular spot with walkers, joggers, and cyclists. The bridge is exactly one mile from end to end and it’s the only “hill” in the area. I was a little nervous the night before because I wasn’t sure if I was “in shape” enough to manage the walk. I was afraid that I wouldn’t make it back over the bridge. But the incline is so gradual that I really didn’t notice it.

The morning was beautiful with glorious weather, good conversation, and breathtaking views. I really enjoyed myself. I had never walked the bridge before since it’s a little out of the way from my house. But now that I’ve experienced this special treat I plan on dragging my Sweetie back there. Soon.

Note: I apologize for the smudgy photo. I think I had suntan goop on my phone.


****
Your Turn
Is there anywhere in your town where you can go for an out-of-the-ordinary walk?

Fevered Genius

Thursday and Friday of last week I stayed home from work with a low-grade fever and sinus infection. I stayed in bed most of the day on Thursday because… well, I felt like crap and if I ventured more than a few feet from the vaporizor on my nightstand my nose slammed shut. Molly stayed in her hiding spot between the bed and the wall all day because there were thunderstorms and a tornado warning all day.

I’d like to say that I napped most of the day but I can’t because my sleep schedule is still a little bit out of whack. Instead I read the last book in my stack with pauses to listen to the windchimes outside the window, the bubbling of the vaporizer, and Molly’s steady breathing.

I also thought some (what I thought at the time) profound thoughts. I felt like I had experienced moments of genius. I composed though-provoking blog posts in my head but the computer in the den seemed so far away. Eventually, I dozed a little bit. Of course, now I can’t remember a single, darn, profound thought or blog post.

Nuts.

Friday I went to the doctor and got anitbiotics for the green goblins hiding in my sinuses. Afterwards, I went to the Goodwill Bookstore and picked out four books. The bookstore just happens to be across the street from Chick-fil-a. I love, nay I covet Chick-fil-a’s waffle fries and sweet tea. Since I was feeling lousy, short on sleep, and I needed to take the antibiotics with food, I stopped. Mmmm.

Saturday my Sweetie, Mr. A and I went to the Borders store that’s closing and we came away with a dozen books – four of them mine. Then we went to Best Buy and got me my very own laptop. Either I’m one very lucky girl or I must have looked pitiful the two days I was sick and sans computer.

Now I have enough reading material for the next couple of months and I can blog from ANYWHERE! Watch out internet. Next time I’m running a fever and feel that stroke of genius I can blog about it.