Threshold

I’m completely fascinated with madermouse and am reading all of her archives, which is a huge undertaking considering they go back to 2001. I don’t think I’ve attempted to read an entire archive list since poundy. I’m also knee deep in Passing For Thin that I find extremely interesting and is the first book in a long time I look forward to reading and actually make an effort to read.

I don’t know what the heck is the matter with me. I’m still hoping something will click and I’ll snap out of this fog I seem to be living in where all I want to do is eat foods I shouldn’t be eating. It sucks because I’m not even enjoying it. I’m not releasing myself to it. I fight and fight and give in only temporarily and go back to fighting it. I don’t understand why I’m doing it. I want to lose weight. I don’t want to gain weight. I’m at the obesity threshold. Fat will start to consume me and I’m going to be gone. I see the over roundness in my face the unnatural curves of my torso. Me is leaving and I don’t know why I’m not stopping her. And yet there’s this lump in my throat and I can’t make it go away. It’ll stay there until I eat. Until I overeat. It gets heavier and heavier and I’ll be on the verge of tears and have to decide to give in.

Up a Storm

Dammit. I’m so pissed with myself. I’m sick of this shit. I don’t know why my 2 choices are full as shit and pissed as shit.

Yesterday (and the day before) I did some serious gardening. You wouldn’t know it if you saw it because most of it was weeding, de-rooting, and leveling and leveling though quite strenuous doesn’t really, um, show. Flat to flatter. I’m sure I caused some huge drainage issue in my yard through my landscaping activities. I do know to slope away from the house.

I also ripped up the last palm and planted another Endless Summer Hydrangea. I got a little sad looking Nikko Hydrangea in the mail and planted that little half dead thing over by Jack. I bought 3 more ivy’s and a creeping fig (seriously invasive from what I read on the net) to climb the ugly wall that MLG won’t let me paint (we’ve got plenty of other stuff to paint – say in deep paint-the-goddern-hall fatherly voice).

For some strange reason a bulb made it through my landscaping and is getting ready to bloom. I’m super excited to see what it is. The other bulbs that I tried to transplant have all died. Out of all the 50 odd bulbs in the yard I got a couple daffodils and this thing. I’m going to try to save this thing, whatever it is, as it’s the last remaining bulb in the yard. It looks like a serious flower. A lily or something.

The cable guy complemented me on my brown dining room today and asked me what color my living room was (brick red). He told me it was a bold color selection. Not something you hear everyday from your neighborly big burly cable guy.

Kitty Wrestling

It's so cute to watch a kitty curl up on your new blue flipflops with little sparkly rhinestones on the straps and attack it with the fervor of a baby bear. Oh she’s so cute. Look at that, body slam. She’s rubbing her back all up on it. Look at her cuddle it. She loves my shoes. You love mommy’s shoes don’t you? Yes you do, yes you do.

Later you’ll find out she’s punctured little bite marks in your new flipflops and they still have wet attack kitty slobber on them. Not so cute now is it?

There was a questionnaire floating around via email and one of the questions was if you could have lunch with anyone who would you have lunch with. My cousin who sent it to me picked some famous guy I’ve never heard of that made her sound really smart and intellectual. I would usually choose John Lennon but only if he wasn’t on his macrobiotic diet (what fun would that be), but upon further thought I decided one of my favorite things is to have lunch with MLG. So I put him and then everyone after that stopped choosing famous people and chose husbands and daughters (hee-hee, I started a trend).

Last night MLG asks me if I want to have lunch with him today and it just happened to be the one day in like forever where I have special plans, my aunt is visiting and I’m having lunch with her and my mom. What are the odds? We haven’t had lunch together in months and he picks today.

I worked out on my treadmill for the first time in months, like double digit months. I have 2 comments to make. One, I’m definitely in worse shape than I thought I was. I couldn’t even do 3.5 and I used to do 3.5 to 4.0 (or a little over in the height of my workout days). Two, my treadmill is WAY harder than the treadmills at the gym. It’s like walking in mud uphill on my treadmill compared to the gym’s flat street walkin’. No wonder I always sweated my ass off at home and hardly broke a sweat on the treadmill at the gym. This is good stuff. I love working out in my jog bra rather than a not long enough t-shirt. Afterwards I took a bath and read for a half hour.

Later we went out for Coldstone. I was so close.

Regarding my post yesterday where I said I felt inferior, I think I may have put it in wrong context. What I meant is I felt rather dumb having my best friend introduce me to her baby, a blind survivor preemie baby at that, and me saying, hey wanna see my new camellia bush? Emergency labor, huh? Look at that paint job. I climbed a 12 foot ladder to do that. It’s that sort of thing. Also, and I don’t think it’s any mystery if you’ve read my blog long term, I want a baby so badly I can’t stand it. I oozes from my pores I want it so bad and have for so long. And holding him I can’t help but think about how she’s living something I want so badly that I do feel inferior. It’s always hard I think when your friends obtain goals you want so badly for yourself. And it’s compounded by the fact that I could potentially have serious problems getting (or staying) pregnant (fibroids, potentially oddly formed uterus). Each year that passes reduces my chances greatly. Each painful period is a reminder of how putting children off could really cost me in the future. And when you hold the little guy who fits so nicely in your arms you can’t help but think – will it ever be me?

I know this isn’t the view for everyone. I know a lot of girls don’t want to have children, or aren’t really thinking about it, or it’s something they’ll deal with later. But it’s how it feels for me.

Whoa Feelings

So in true Diet Chick sees a movie fashion, I completely lost it at the end of 13 going on 30. I mean they should warn people. That movie seemed completely safe from heavy tears and ugly blotchy face. About the time she was placing pictures on the mantle I was thinking, I did that too, only… sniff, sniff, she’s married and I’m not. Am. Breath. I. Breath. Ever. Breath. Going. Breath. To be. Breath. Married? Floods of tears. Why won’t he ask me? Cry cry cry. Credits. Embarrassing wiping of face. Everyone with dry faces, 2 teens even doing the Thriller dance at the front of the auditorium. I have to be consoled by MLG while I try to convince him they’re happy tears, really. Squeak. Cry.

My best friend came into town and last night I met her son. It’s very difficult being the single, non-babied friend of a married mom. I’m totally jealous, I’ve been reading Dooce and I know the whole baby thing is hard. Really hard. But I still yearn for it more than anything in the world. I just feel on the opposite side of the universe from my best friend. I still love her. She’s very sweet about it. Never made me feel bad about it or drew attention to my inferiority or anything.

MLG’s back was hurting yesterday, a big knot in his shoulder blade. My mom just emailed me and said it might be weight related. That sort of thing really pisses me off. It’s in his shoulder for one thing so I doubt seriously it is weight related. But even if it was all MLG and I have been doing is trying to settle into some sort of program and he’s doing way better than me. We’re not just sitting over here with bags of goodies stuffing our faces and wondering why we have weight related issues.

I totally wonder every time I become winded if it’s weight related or would a “normal” sized person feel just as worn out. I mean, when is it okay to feel worn out and have it be “normal” and not related to fat. I’m scared to death to say I’m tired or sound winded if I have to climb five billion steps in a mad rush to answer the phone. Yes I’m out of breath but you would be too, I swear. And god forbid I should feel hot. I’m immediately thinking would I be hot if I weighed less? Is this normal hot or is it because I’m fat and have fat padding? If it’s hot I just want it to be hot. I want everyone to think it’s hot. I don’t want people thinking it’s because you’re fat, lose weight and you won’t be so sweaty. Lose weight and all these things will go away. Control yourself, can’t you just control yourself?

Is it 5 pm yet?

We bought 3 bags of mulch last night. If they weren’t stolen today I’ll be mulching this weekend. Mulch always looks so darn pretty. That should spruce the place up. I've got loads of ideas. My favorite thing in the world is thinking up ideas for the house (and yard). Mastercard loves it too.

And then there's the big ass monstrous hall. Maybe I’ll start transferring some of the hall stuff upstairs this weekend. I know MLG really wants the hall done before his parents come to visit. It would rock to have a whole floor done.

It’s difficult to find a diary where the dieter has fallen off the wagon and can’t seem to get back on. Usually writers just stop writing. 95% of us will gain all our weight back yet you can scarcely find anyone going though it and writing about it. So I was happy to come across this writer (though she hasn’t written this month). I see a lot of myself in her, I really really do.

Speaking of, I actually had a good conversation about weight with my mom. She’s still struggling, now in the 140s, poor girl, and still eating. Clothes getting tight and yet still eating. She says she’s really starting to understand my struggles. She even mentioned the time she told me to just do it when I tried to open up and express to her my difficulties a few months back. It was nice to not hear, you need to get your act together, and instead hear something positive like that she’s excited I’m getting the treadmill because that’s worked so well for me before. Hopefully we’ll be able to get the treadmill tonight. Hopefully it’ll work its magic again.

It amazes me how clothes can stop fitting properly and underwear rolls and legs stick together and tummies look round and unnatural and your wardrobe dwindles before your very eyes to stretchy pants and skirts and even t-shirts are ill fitting and you’re completely uncomfortable and it’s all you can think about and yet even after all that all you want to do it eat. Why is that? I mean that’s the heart of it. Misery due to something, because of something, and still it’s all you want to do. I had a huge lunch and all I can do is sit here and think about the soup in the refrigerator. I don’t even know if I’m hungry. It’s this dull feeling at the back of my throat. My breathing is shallow, heavy. My mouth tingly and watering. The weight of the world on me, though it’s not. It’s really not. And all I want, all I can think about is the goddamn clam chowder. I had French fries for lunch. I don’t even care that much about French fries and it’s like who the fuck cares, pass the damn soup over already. Soup. Soup. Soup.

Reader Camps

It seems to be a tough world when it comes to having a weightloss journal/blog. Sometimes I feel like we’re all wearing “kick me” signs on our backs. There seems to be 2 camps of readers. One, it’s your world, you know what the heck you’re doing, obviously since you’re writing about it. You screw up, I screw up, we’re working through it, I get some ideas from you, laugh and cry with you, sympathize with you, I think you write well, your cats/dogs are cute, I feel like we’re friends or you show me a world that’s completely new to me and I enjoy learning about it. Two, I’m going to teach you how to diet since it’s obvious by your years of journaling (though I just started reading it today) that you haven’t got a freaking clue. I’ll roll my eyes, tst tst you, and maybe give you a well earned kick in the pants all in the name of tough “love”. You’re writing because you want me to help you so here’s what you need to do.

Camp 2 irritates the fuck out of me as I’ve expressed many times and I swear I’m not pointing fingers, this is actually coming from another site that I read today. And maybe there are some people who do need help. What the heck do I know. How many times have I clicked on the comment section to leave a word of suggestion and decided not to because I hate it when it’s done to me. I figure if I thought of it certainly they have too and have discredited it for whatever reason. People know what they want to do, what they’re willing to do, and when they’re doing too little or too much. Just like I know skim milk has less calories than lowfat chocolate milk. Or water’s healthier than diet soda. Or what happens to my body when I eat 1200 calories or 1800 calories or 3500 calories. We all know how to diet. I’ve been dieting since I was 6 years old. We’re not here to have someone teach us. If I want a kick in the pants in the name of “tough” love I’ll call my mom. I know every piece of dietary information out there. In the diet world, everyone knows, especially when you’ve researched it as much as I have, you can pretty much find any piece of information to suit whatever you’re looking for. It’s what perpetuates the cycle, makes dieting the mega-industry that it is. There’s so many ways to lose weight it’s not even funny. And you can eat too much and not lose weight too and know the whole time exactly what’s going on. There’s no mystery to it. I doubt there’s really anyone who’s journaling in hopes that someone will finally tell them how and what to do. I don’t think journaling is a good method if that’s what you’re after. That’s what message boards are for. Journaling is about the journey. It’s about self-discovery. Man against himself.

And while I’m on a rant if people are going to have a website for their garden will they please take garden view shots and not just individual pictures of flowers. I’m trying to get garden design ideas but mostly I find close up of flowers from Jimmy Joe’s Garden circa April 2001. If I do find a garden shot I have no freaking idea what was planted and what’s what. It’s very discouraging. I say let’s put the “kick me” signs on the Garden Blogs and tell them what fertilizer to use and when to plant stuff and why their freaking Hosta died. You can’t plant that in the sun, freak! This is what you need to do…

It may seem like I’m in a bad mood or pissy or whatever and the funny thing is I’m really not. I’m amazed with my happiness. I believe that life is a series of happy times and sad times. I’ve been in the sad times for a long long time. I deserve this break and am quite aware of the happiness in my life and I don’t take it for granted. I’ve gained a lot of weight in this past year but the one weird thing is in my pictures that are supposed to be freaking me out I just look so damn happy. When I originally lost all this weight, the first Christmas 2 years ago, I was like 140 pounds and saw the pictures and freaked out. I was so pale and sad looking. The most recent pictures of me I’m in the 160s and it shows but I glow. It’s completely amazing to me the happiness I feel. So I’m really not in a bad mood. Really. I swear.

And when it comes down to it when I want to be thin and live my life as a thin person by god I can make it happen. It is my choice and my responsibility and I’m quite aware of it.

Garden Girl

MLG and I attended a wedding this past weekend. The one wear I was going to lose 10 pounds to wear the size 10 strapless yellow Banana Republic dress. Instead I gained 10 pounds and wore a size 12 sleeveless black J Crew Cotton Cady dress. It’s a spectacular dress. I felt pretty in it despite my girth. I highly recommend any of the Cady dresses. I love cotton and the downfall is how casual and picnic-like it looks and its brushed worn in texture. This cotton is very formal and holds it shape, yet comfortable and breathable. I wore pearl earrings and a double strand pearl necklace. My mom would have been so pleased.

I am a bevy of energy. When I got off work yesterday I went to Lowes to buy topsoil and mulch and then home to garden. I bought an Endless Summer Hydrangea (it damn well better be worth the extra money) and a Camellia (Charles Bettes, but I’m regretting my choice a bit after further research) during lunch yesterday. I filled an entire trashcan full of weeds from the left side of the yard (a very small area), dug out the palm and a hidden stump (another freaking stump), and leveled everything (and that’s harder than it sounds). The sun was starting to set as I planted the hydrangea and fretted endlessly (Endless summer, get it) over if it’s too deep or too high in the dirt. I was going to quit but decided to mulch as best I could with little light and mulched Jack as well (who has propagated a lot of weeds around his base in like a day). I didn’t make it to the camellia so I’m hoping to plant it today and mulch as much (ha, ha) as I can.

Then I took a shower (I was dirt-y) and we went to dinner. When we got home I rearranged the middle bedroom (swapped beds and brought the tv and vcr upstairs from the kitchen – for workout viewing displeasure). Then we went to bed. I saw like 30 seconds of TV all day yesterday and that was just to see if the cable was working in that room.

And just for the record, I was in Lowes yesterday and I did not buy the wrong size curtains. They are cheap ass curtains and bow oddly and unsteadily in the center because they didn’t make the pole long enough to support the weight at the end of the length spectrum.

Queen of All That is Decorated

You know, just when you think you’re the Queen of Decorating and get all bad ass and buy cheaper curtain rods from Lowes and feel all high and mighty about spray painting them white even though you know you aren’t very good at spray painting because it takes patience and you’ll blast the damn rod until it's coated By God and have super globs, but I digress. So you’re out there in Nature spray painting the brick patio, rolly polly bugs, and fallen debris on your curtain rods. You do 4 freaking coats of white spray paint and still manage to form globs that funk out when you touch them like wet nail polish. By merely picking up the curtain rods you nick it back black (and yes being Queen of Decorating one of the 4 coats was Primer). And yet you press on. You are saving money and it’s going to look great. You have a vision. You can do this whole “budget” thing.

Now you’re up in the bedroom. All your supplies laid out. You’ve already scraped up the exceptional Heart Pine floors moving the bed away from the window. You’ve already had the drill fall from 8 feet and breaking the 1/16 drill bit (the one you need). You’ve already thought about how that could have hit you on the head or the foot, the drill or the bit and it could have really hurt or killed and you need to be more careful. You start to doubt the whole Queen of Decorating. You press on, hoping for the best. Both brackets are hung, scraped up a bit and now striped and you left the screws black so it stands out on the beige everything walls. You put together the rods and slide on the shabby chic curtain. You mount the ladder and climb the 4 feet. Carefully, you slide the rod onto the bracket.

It. Doesn’t. Fit.

The curtain rod is too fucking short. You bought the wrong size. You resign from Queen of Decorating. You immediately purchase three $58 curtain rods (each) from Anthropologie.com. You’re out $60, why not go ahead and really screw up and get exactly what you want. You scrape the rare Heart Pine floor more pushing the bed back. Your work here is done.

Bigger Than a Breadbox

I think it may have kicked in that holy shit I’m going to have to wear this stomach at the beach. It didn’t stop me from almost begging for a McFlurry last night. Bad, very bad. But I didn't get one.

It’s at time like these that I should realize the food just might control me.

So heck I don’t know. I’m trying this 300, 400, 500 calorie diet. 300 for breakfast (enough for Oreos), 400 for lunch (that’s like a sandwich and no sides), and 500 for dinner. Did you know normal people, girls anyway, are supposed to naturally consume like 1400 calories a day. I can eat that in a lunch. A snack even.

Not that I’m trying to say I’ve been eating like a “normal” person but that 1400 calories for a whole day still seems awfully low.

I returned some pillows at TJ Maxx (in line for-freaking-ever) and headed over to Pit@ Delite. I noticed chocolate milk in the refrigerator case so I instinctually grabbed one. Placed my order and waited for my order while lamenting the purchase of the chocolate milk. 420 extra calories. Calories I don’t have. Calories that will immediately pushed me to my daily limit (pretty much) and cause me to give up on the day and start tomorrow (promise anyway). Why did I get the milk? Why God why?! Lunch is ready. I ask if I can exchange the milk. I leave with a diet pepsi. 420 calories saved. The day is saved.

This journal is starting to be like another friend. Like my mom. Or a coworker. And everybody knows you never say, “Hey friend, I started dieting today. Watch me lose tons of weight. It’ll be great.” Because the first thing that happens is you want to hide things from your friend and next thing you know you’ve failed and you try to pretend you never mentioned going on the damn diet. It has to be a secret. You have to do it for a while, a long while, until you’re in the rhythm. Then someone notices. And your secret comes out. That’s how it happens. You can’t ANNOUNCE it. That’s the freaking problem with blogging for-freaking-ever. It becomes your friend and you have to hide shit from it too. And yet the purpose of this thing is to spill my soul. Talk about what’s going on. Why it’s so damn hard. Why it feels so impossible and overwhelming. Why I feel discouraged before even trying.

And why I can put the chocolate milk back and not feel bad but feel good.

Very powerful. Very familiar. Thanks Mo.

Roomie

I’ve cohabitated with 3 guys but I’ve never had a roommate. I lived with my cousin for 6 months after returning home when Big X left me. We shared the smallest bedroom in the house and clashed on issues like watching TV until we fall asleep (the way she liked it) or leaving on the ceiling fan (the way I like it). I read a lot of Anne Rice and tried to deal. Fun things were I had someone to lay out with and we cooked dinner every night together. I always did entrees and she did side dishes. I lost 70 pounds this way.

We’re having chicken again?

Eventually we booted my stepbrother to the small bedroom and moved into the large bedroom. We’d do exercises on the floor together, very competitive like, and shared the treadmill.

Then she met a boy and moved out. I had the large bedroom to myself. Score!

The deal when we decided to buy the house was we’d take on a roommate for a short period of 6 months to a year to help with the finances. MLG is very frugal and went from living in a house where he had virtually no house payment (he had a roomie and a modest house) to wining and dining me and buying a large historic home. So it was the deal and I accepted it because, well, I love the house. And I love my man. I’m naïve about roommates.

We’ve been looking for a roommate off and on (more off than on) since January. I really started to feel like no one would choose to live with a couple in a big house, like invading their private couple space would be too weird, not to mention the remodeling and the 14 foot ladder in the hall.

Then came new roomie. She sat down and talked to us. She brought her boyfriend with her. She complemented me on my designing talents. She was friendly and smart and by god I can’t believe it wanted to live here, with us.

She’s managing a restaurant for her family and will only be here for 6 months to a year. She’ll be working a lot. What can I say? She seems perfect.

Last night was her first night here. Aidan is terrible when it comes to PM since he sleeps all day. We have the fan to help drown him out. I’m not sure how she took to him. He actually slept with me for a portion of the night. I was very tired (thank god) and kept trying to just make myself fall asleep so I could sleep through TOM. Finally the pain subsided enough for me to fall asleep. I woke up in a pool of sweat and extremely tired but functional so here I am.

The poor girl’s in there with a broken set of nasty blinds and 2 others that work but are gross. I wanted to have the curtains up but it just wasn’t going to happen. We’ll see if she survived the disgusting broken blinds and wrath (aka curiosity) of Aidan.

MLG wasn’t too keen on bringing over the treadmill. As suspected he immediately suggested the gym we’ve belonged to since September and haven’t gone to in 6 months. I told him I’d still go to the gym with him but the treadmill would be easier for me to get into a routine with. And it is. Why I thought joining a gym was a good idea I have no idea. I guess I thought we’d do it together so working out wouldn’t cut into our time together and therefore I’d actually do it. But he’s been working so much that going to the gym is out of the question. I’d like to say I’m of the character to come home, grab some clothes that ill fit and hide, and head over to a crowded gym to watch CNN while I want to kill myself for an hour but it’s just not going to happen. What I can and I hope will happen is I can come home from work, go straight up to get changed (in sports bra and bike pants, ugly sausage fare but is cool and comfy) and go straight to the treadmill, with full cable and VCR and watch whatever it takes to get me through my half hour. Once half hour is up, and it’ll only be like 6 pm when this happens, I’m revved to make better dinner choices (my biggest problem, like 95% of my problem) and may actually turn this hellacious nightmare around.

Still Complaining About Target

Have I mentioned that Target is very mean and starts a real live Shabby Chic line and then lets everything sell out so by the time you get there you can get a set of sheets, dust ruffle (neither of these that you NEED but you suddenly must have), 4 place mats, one king sham, and one curtain panel. You check back at least twice a week for over a month thinking certainly they’ll restock. They had those little rain check coupons and everything. They aren’t messing with me. Target? No. Target rocks. Right?

Well I’m still hanging onto my one king sham hoping they’ll one day get another one. I was forced to order the other 2 curtain panels I needed from Target.com. I still think it’s unfair that I have to pay shipping because they can’t order inventory.

I also had the pleasure yesterday of realizing they usually stock only 2 curtain rods for each set. I need 3. So I’m using Lowes curtain rods (Target has missed out on a $60 sale because they can’t keep their shit in stock. They should remember that next time they notice Walmart is kicking their ass). Of course I want the curtain rods white so I’m spray painting tonight. And then I’m hanging the curtains. I’m taking the sheets we’re currently using for curtains (nailed up with fancy brass nails) and sewing a seam so I can hang those in the new roomie’s bedroom on cheap curtain rods (the $3 kind). People, I cleaned mini blinds. Cleaned them. For 7 foot ceilings in the bathroom. Two sets. Do you know how many little mini blinds needed to be wiped in the dirt water bathtub for 7 foot mini-blinds. It’s a lot. Those things were nasty. They look really nice now. New roomie should be happy. The blinds in our bathroom are still the nasty ass uncleaned ones. I don’t like cleaning miniblinds. I don’t even like miniblinds. The plan was to keep them nasty until I could replace them.

But curtains are expensive. Even using twin sheets on sale proved to be costly. So they’re just gross. But her’s are pretty. And she has the pedestal sink.

So the plan is to get all the curtain projects done today because she’s moving in any day and I broke one of the miniblinds in her bedroom so she can’t close them or open them, they’re just tilted and stuck (and dirty).

But then…

…along came TOM.

That explains the whole Bojangles trip last night coming home from Target and Lowes. I hardly ever eat fried chicken and when I do it’s not spicy.

I’m thinking I’ll be watching more HGTV tonight than participating. But it was a great plan. Excellent plan.

Possessed 19th Century House

The air conditioner is broken. Well, like everything else around here, it’s eerie and freakishly kind of off and frustrating, sometimes broken and sometimes working. Moody perhaps. Possessed even. Weird things happen in this house.

I’ve been indoctrinated into the world of those who sleep with loud fans. The white noise (I think that’s what they call it) drowns out other noises (except Aidan’s death howl) including hurricane force winds, kitty chases including things getting knocked off the mantle and breaking, and stolen wheelbarrows. But with it brings the oddest occurrences.

You’ll be laying there minding your own business (am I gonna sleep on my back or should I roll over now, hm, not quite sure if I’m ready to roll over yet) when all the sudden you could freaking swear you can hear a radio. It’s definitely a song though you can’t place the words or even the musical genre (it's very static-y). I’ve laid there trying to determine if it was hiphop or some sort of metal hair ballad or what. I would believe that I’m crazy except MLG says he hears it too and it goes away right when you turn the fan off. Creepy. It only happens sometimes and then it goes away for no good reason.

Then came the phones. I went to pick up the cordless one day and I was alone and walking up the stairs with it and could hear no dial tone only like the reflection of my breath, like I could hear the other room. Weird and creepy. I go back to the phone stand and press the speaker phone button and get nothing. I check the other phones, nothing. Pick up the cordless, hear my own breath. Spooky.

When MLG got home all phones were dead. He went around and unplugged all the phones and plugged one back in and it worked. We plugged them all back in. A couple weeks later my phone was acting like it was going to cut off, heavy static, like the battery was dead but it wasn’t. I hung up the phone and it was dead. They all died again. MLG again unplugged all the phones and plugged one back in. Dead. We’ve had 3 people out and can’t figure out what’s up with the freaking phones. One of the guys hotwired one line into the kitchen. So we have one phone, kind of like the old days.

Well, except it’s cordless so you can walk around with it. And it has call waiting. And caller ID. And an answering machine.

Before the phones died the air refused to work one night. MLG talked to a friend he has that’s in airconditioning and he laughed and said, “well did ya flip it to ‘cool.’” MLG, the smartest guy I’ve ever known, thought maybe he didn’t and brushed it off. The next night it worked fine.

This past weekend the weather decided to go into the upper 70s and even worse be humid as all get out. The air upstairs stopped working. We replaced the filter. Ran a test run. Noticed ice did form on the airconditioner hoses, which really means you need serious a/c help. That night MLG turned it on just for a bit to chill the room. It worked fine. Ran it all night, no problem. Same with last night. No problem.

Well, except I woke up and it was 57 degrees in the house and I HAD to turn it off. I’m still waiting for some one to whisper, “Get out!” all Amityville like.

I’m getting my treadmill back from my mom. I have to get cable hooked up in the middle bedroom and get back into my schedule.

I’m really starting to miss my old body. I mean I have been missing it, a lot, but lately when I ask myself, you mean you’d really rather have pizza and brownies over being thin and wearing cute clothes, I actually think, well, um, no, not really.

So we’ll see.

I Don't Want to Talk About It

I’m totally posting my mom’s email without her permission. Bear (is it Bare?) in mind I could have taken it out of context, which I did delete the first part, she didn’t just slam right into it, but I could have taken out the last sentence which softens the message. But still! Damn. I’m also only posting this because
Robyn’s writing about similar issues so I’m commiserating at the expense of my mom.

And I haven’t got shit else to say.

So here it is:

“I think you and I better get a grip on our weight right away. I'm eating insanely, asking for a miserable summer not being able to wear my cute summer dresses and looking like crap in my swimsuits. You're doing the same, and hopefully you want to get a grip on your weight as bad as I do. I'm really realizing how little self discipline I really have, and I hate it!”

I just don’t think people should tell other people what they need to do about their weight. I’ve never said anything about another person’s size and get very nervous when they seem to be pushing for something (the whole I feel guilty for eating this talk) because I don’t want to say anything. Does she not think I don’t know about my weight? That I’m pretending it doesn’t exist?

I totally know. I totally know it’s a problem. I don’t want to talk about it or bond over it. I really don’t. She’s like 5 pounds overweight. And even if she did weigh the same as me it’s not the same. My struggle is my own. She’ll starve herself for a week and lose her weight.

I don’t want to talk about it.

I may be getting my treadmill back. Note to others: If you think you’ve lost a fair amount of weight and no longer need your treadmill because you’re too good for your treadmill and will “even out” any given pound, don’t give it away. Hang clothes from it. Grow dust art on it. Let the kitties sleep on it and do that weird scratching sound that bugs you. Don’t give it away. One day you’ll realize how freaking handy the damn thing would be to get you back on task. What sensible minded person would go out for icecream after working out on a treadmill? Somehow I don’t think I would. I hate exercising just that much. I’d never waste it.

The 10th Commandment, Right?

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned but MLG has been working every Saturday and Sunday for the past 3 weeks (he’s been teaching a paralegal class). Last week he’s been really feeling the effects of working 7 days a week and caught a cold. This weekend, being a holiday weekend and all, he got to stay home. Saturday we were in full on lazy mode and hung out at the house. I haven’t spent a pretty much full day watching television in a long time. No yard work, no hour long vacuuming sessions, no shopping, just television.

Sunday he was feeling better, which is good, but everything was closed for Easter. I did manage to spend $60 at Lowes on a hose, hose stand, sprayer, and trashcan. How. Someone explain to me how.

Last weekend we brought over the wheelbarrow from MLG’s other house. I’d been pricing them at Lowes thinking they’d be useful for transporting dirt (my new workout routine) and limbs and whatnot. I spotted it at his house in the backyard all red and shiny when we were perusing the new a/c unit at the house. We loaded it up in the car and took it home with us.

The following Wednesday, this past week I believe, I used it to hold sticks and weeds that needed to be bagged up. I filled it and a loaded the contents into a trash bag and then started filling it again. It was about half full when I had completed my yardwork for the day.

I came home Thursday, trash day, to find my plastic bag ripped and contents spewing on the curb (thanks trash guys). When I went to grab the bag a giant roach ran out and went under my car. Not touching that stuff. Frustrated I grabbed the shovel and loaded up the big city trashcan (I know you aren’t supposed to do this). It filled it half full. I may have overstuffed that bag.

Then I went to water Jack. I’m standing there goo-gooed over my baby and thinking, hmm, something’s different out here. The yard’s like roomy or something. I look around. The wheelbarrow is gone. Gone. Stolen. By aliens. Or cruel neighbors.

After wanting to jump on Jack and cry happy tears that no one stole my baby I checked around to see if anything else was missing. I’ve been keeping all my tools on the deck because we have no shed and it’s the only covered area. All tools are there. I bought a little shabby chic birdbath that was chillin’ by Jack. That was still there. My new urns and geraniums were still there.

What’s funny is the wheelbarrow was half full with yard clippings. Who ever took it didn’t even dump out the clippings. They just pushed it down the sidewalk with clippings inside. Yardwork sensitive thieves. How thoughtful.

Great neighborhood watch we have, no? I LOVE living in the inner city! My shit’s your shit if you can drag it down the sidewalk.

Can’t wait to come home to find my $50 hose getup gone. The wheelbarrow’s only worth $35 less depreciation. The hose is really the way to go. It’s on the left side of the house. Maybe I should place signs with arrows. “Yard Steal” signs. I bought the cheapest trashcan for future yard clippings. I wonder if they steal $7 trashcans. Can you get good crack with a Rubbermaid trashcan?

Regular Poster

I don’t know how people only post once a week. I’m telling you one more day and I might never come back. All I have is garden stuff anyway. Yawn. No falling pants over here.

I did implement a ban on all sweets except Popsicles and SF Jello (2 items I don’t even touch anymore). I’ve been eating too much icecream, too much candy, and too much dessert. Well no more. I’ve nicked it. Not forever but just until it feels like a special treat again and not something I’m “entitled” to.

I took off Tuesday to write to work in the yard and watch Oprah. I planted Jack and tore up the palm from hell (it had a tree trunk wrapped around it and a pipe running down one side). Palms are wide. It was difficult to tell what was holding me up. It was half dead so all sorts of creatures of the night were living it that thing. I met our yard toad that did not want me to kiss him, only wanted me to leave him and his trees alone. I hope he’s still around because I read they were good for gardens. And I accidentally half chopped off a baby lizard’s tail. He was super weak (I know this because he barely moved and that’s rare for a lizard) and moved him to the over side of the yard (on my shovel). I don’t think he made it but I couldn’t bear to watch him die. I saw another pissed off lizard and a lot of insects. Shudder. It was almost too heavy to drag from the yard. It really kicked my ass. I removed two more bushes and another tree. I only have the medium (ugly) still in bloom azalea and decisions to make about the other two palms.

Jack looks good if shorter than I was expecting without his bucket. I planted red geraniums in my new urns.

Meet Jack

Our new Jacktree. Sigh of affection.



Meet Jack. The newest member of the family. Jack’s the brat of the yard because since I’ve gotten him everything else has got to go. Everything. All new stuff. I’ll save the front palms until I figure out what I can put there. No palms. Nothing can distract from Jack. Jack’s perty. Jack’s the one I want to adorn with tiaras and make him try out at youth beauty contests. I’ll put makeup on him and frizz out his hair so he’ll look like a 6 year old Designing Woman. I’ll make him smile by giving him big grins and pointing to the corners of my mouth. I’ll mimic the dance routine for him out in the audience. I’m freaky about this tree.

And it’s getting down to 31 degrees tonight. Poor poor Jack. (He’s too big to get through the door or I’d take him inside.)

I’m Broke and I Cannot Lie

If everyone would kindly take out their hymnbooks, er, I mean, Dr Phil’s Diet Book and turn to page 71.

Think about deprivation another way: by overeating, you’re depriving yourself of a healthy weight, an attractive appearance, self-regard, and peace of mind.

Good, no? No need to remark on the fact that I got that book for Christmas and I'm at page 71 (and I skipped the quizzes, don’t tell Dr Phil).

I did not buy the birdbath. We rechecked them out last night and took a look around at the fountains, MLG liked the fountains, and were on our way to the cashier when I changed my mind. They just don’t do it for me. And I can’t make decisions. I’m the worst. It’ll have to stew and marinate in my brain and then I’ll go back and get it later. Even when I go to Pottery Barn in another city I go to PB first then walk around everywhere else and then go back and make my purchases. If someone is new to shopping with me I tell them it’s because I don’t want to lug the bags around but really I’m trying to make a decision. On my last trip to by dad's city where there's a Pottery Barn, I bought at one Pottery Barn, went to the other Pottery Barn in another mall, changed my mind about my first purchase, went back to the car to get my stuff and got it exchanged. I’m bizarre, I know, do not shop with me.

My mom says if money is tight, buy bushes and hold off on the birdbath because a birdbath, even the most beautiful birdbath in the world, will look unattractive in a yard of dirt with no shrubs. She also said, and not too surprising, that the fancy nursery that I love is the most expensive in town. But have you seen their gardenia bushes? I asked her to show me around town. She doesn’t work and loves to shop so the woman’s been everywhere. She’s in the know. I’d never know about TJ Maxx housewares if it weren’t for her. I’d be all walking around thinking I’m too good for TJ Maxx.

It’s funny how sometimes you don’t realize a trigger food is a trigger food until it’s in your refrigerator. Chocolate milk in single serving bottles (so cute), I’m looking at you.

I forgot to mention that my mom came over yesterday and exclaimed, "Did MLG hire some guys to finish clearing out the yard? That's terrific." I was like, "Uh, no, I did that myself." And she said, "You must be really strong." And I said, "No, I'm not strong, I'm just determined." Thank you shovel and lopper. We'll be here all Spring.

Garden Journalling

I’ve decided I want a bird bath in the front yard. This is huge because though it’s a small space, I’ve never done yards before. When I was growing up I’d rearrange my room every 6 months or so just to spice things up. I’d have a bulletin board in my room and change it every season (I was born to be a teacher, I’m telling you). But outside I just avoided bees and deep forests (spiders, you know). Outside was mom’s territory and I didn’t even pay any attention. Never did. Hated yard work.

So this is brand new territory and I’ve been watching all the Curb Appeal shows I can get my hands on. The yard is pretty much completely ripped up now. The only thing left are the palms and the azaleas. The azaleas are the tiny ones and red and supposedly according to my mom, all wrong for our giant house. Azaleas attract bees and bloom for about 45 minutes (okay a week) and the rest of the year they don’t look so hot. The big blooms are nice but again for a week of glory (did I mention it’s Azalea Festival here this weekend)? And there’s an odd tree smack in the middle of the front fence that mom says I should wait to see what it is. She thinks it’s a crepe myrtle but I think not. I want to dig it up. And the fan palm thing next to it. But that would leave only the two palms flanking the fence and people already think I’m weird for pulling up everything else and stacking 15 or so cinder blocks outside (creative step stone idea – until you want to get them out). It’s not a grave yard, okay. I got tired (this is back breaking work people), and I don’t know how to level it all back out. And I ran out of dirt.

Anyway, Lunch Buddy dragged me over to Pottery Plus yesterday to look at their birdbaths. They’re $25! Very reasonable. So MLG is supposed to come home early today and we’re going to get one. Today LB and I went to a fancy garden place and they had a birdbath I REALLY like for a hundred something. So I know I’m going to buy this $25 one and wish it was the other one I REALLY like. But I have to cut back so essentially it’s the cheap one or no one.

Sigh. Yeah, cut back.

Mom says gardenia bushes are the way to go in front of the house. I like their waxy leaves and fragrant flowers. The fancy smancy garden store had really nice healthy gardenia bushes. They had a whole slew of blue hydrangeas. I gasped. I love blue hydrangeas. If they were bloomed I might have passed out. I really like Japanese Maples but I only have room for one tree and it’ll probably be a Camellia. Anyway I really enjoyed walking through the garden store though it’s overwhelming to make decisions. I suppose I could get the gardenias and a hydrangea and go from there. Transplant all my bulbs (like 1000 of them) around the birdbath. Then figure out what to do.

Garden journal, yay fun.