New Life

عدد یا رقم

2011-12-29T23:10:00.000-06:00

I remember writing once that the sky was a brilliant blue six years ago today. I don't remember it like that today. I remember sitting in my house with the curtains drawn; a cold, dark sorrow in my heart, wondering where the light went. Today, the curtains are open and the light is seeping back in. Slowly. But I trust that the brilliance may one day return. Miss you, my love.

The Future of New Life

2011-12-27T13:41:00.003-06:00

I've been away from my blog so long, I couldn't even figure out how to write a new post. I am not happy about change in any way, shape, or form, but that is the way of the world, no?

I am home sick today. It came quickly last night and took over with a force. I haven't been this sick in a long, long time. But it is going around, and I am "around" many more people these days than I have been in the last six years, that's for certain. That's progress, and it's also taken it's toll on me. I have had a very difficult time adjusting to my new job. I am "on" from the minute I walk in the door. I listen to people. I hand over the kleenex on a regular basis and I have the privilege of bearing witness to others' pain every day. Then I come home to Tiny Apartment and regroup, relax; to make sense of this life I am living. I know for a fact that I am doing today what I am supposed to be doing. I love that I was brought to this place of veritable peacefulness where I get to use my gifts to help others. But I am also making tentative plans for my future.

A future alone. Weird to say that. Out loud through my fingertips. Don't think I've said it out loud through my lips yet. I am coming to terms with this thing that is my New Life. I have been waiting around for a long time. Waiting for life to come to me, or to happen, or to meet someone, or to do someTHING. And next year, I am going to be 40. I don't want to be 40 and waiting around anymore.

Remember when I got a financial adviser? Well, I met with him again last November. I am living paycheck to paycheck, trying to pay off debt. There are some weeks when I eat peanut butter sandwiches for every meal, interspersed with Ramen Noodles, because that's all I can afford. But it's what I want to do - get rid of that debt, so don't think I'm asking for sympathy. He doesn't seem to think that's any way to live, so he started asking me about dreams. What? I don't dream. I told my very first therapist that in November of 2001. That's why I started going. Because I had stopped dreaming. But lo, and behold. These things people call dreams came flying out of my mouth. I want to live in a tiny cabin on a lake in Minnesota; I want a boat, a garden, chickens and a goat. And if I'm going to live there myself, I need a big dog and a big truck. "What kind of dog?" he asked. A St. Bernard. "What kind of truck?" A crew cab Dodge Ram with a 6 foot bed. Preferably in blue. Seriously. All that came out of my mouth without me even thinking about it.

And he looked at me, smiled, and said, "You know, you can have all that." And I started crying.

Because for the first time in a long time, I told someone what I wanted, and they seem to think I just might be able to do it.

Thanksgiving

2011-11-27T17:27:00.001-06:00

For the first time in I don't know how many times, my whole family was together for the holiday. Albeit last weekend, we were all there, brother, sister in law (with baby to be) and Baby Z, my sister and her new husband and the matriarch, Grammie. We all met at my mom and dad's house which is now the peak of the Bermuda Triangle in which we all live. I go east. My sister goes west. My brother and grandma go north.

Thinking about Thanksgivings past these days... Six years ago, The Dead Guy and I pulled up to his Aunt Jane's and simultaneously reached under our seats. His, rum. Mine, vodka. And we laughed because neither of us knew the other had anything. So, we toasted and swigged and staggered in. Five years ago, I was at my Recovery Mom's house, thinking to myself that if I would just ask her to spend the night, maybe I'd get one night sober. Thanksgiving since then? Rocky at best, but getting better every year. And this year? Waking up to a smiling little boy who finally knows how to say my name? KaTe. Special emphasis on the T. Brought tears to my eyes as we ate toast together. Life is good. Mostly.

I work on staying positive most days. I am overwhelmed by work at times. It keeps me from writing, which is my number one solace. But I love what I do. I love watching lightbulbs go off. And frankly? I love kicking people out of my office when they are being belligerent and clutching to denial. Usually they come back and tell me how mad they are at me, but that they've been thinking all day.

Which is my job. To make people think.

So, I do the same hard work. I think. Thanksgiving through my birthday in January is the hardest time of year for me. The memories of The Dead Guy's last days. The reminders of how I was struggling to get sober a year later. Life is so different today. Amazingly so. I'm sitting in Tiny Apartment, listening to the reverberations of the stereo upstairs. Gay Janitor was kind of sad yesterday and I suggested that he borrow some Christmas CDs. He is enjoying them as we speak. And I may or may not be considering what it might mean to dream a little tonight. It's been quite a while.

I'm Back?

2011-10-30T17:35:00.000-05:00

I've been gone. I don't quite know where I've been. I hit a rough patch right about March and never quite seemed to come out of it. But, I'm coming back. And it feels much better. I'm taking two classes right now, so mostly I just feel like I work, I read, I take tests, and I sleep. I grounded myself from Facebook last night until I got my homework done. At least I still have that persona in me, right? But these are also the only two classes I have to take in order to test for my certification - which is why I opted to do them the same semester.

Lots has happened since I last posted. Did I tell you there is going to be another Baby Z? Did I tell you that Dog Girl and Boy are having a baby? Did I tell you about my sister's wedding? (I know I didn't. That was the last post I did. Telling you it was coming.) Munchkin Number 3 is walking. He crawled for about three months and then pulled himself up. It's all over now. Did you know that the garden is done and there are many bags of frozen green beans in the freezer and that mystery pasta sauce is still awesome? Did I tell you that the leaves are falling and that it's dark when I leave work on Tuesday and Thursday nights now? Sigh. So much to say, but so little at the same time. Those dark places leave me kind of blank and empty.

But. I celebrated Halloween this year. I didn't dress up. Not really. Cowgirl, Dirty Ben, ZBear, and Munchkins 1 and 2 did this.

And I did THIS. So they could do THAT. ZBear felt sorry for me at one point and put a bloody handprint on my face so I could participate in the Sioux Falls Zombie Walk, which apparently made national news. Cowgirl and Dirty Ben's team won the group costume contest.

And me? I just won being myself by being happy and content with life today.

Making Peace

2011-09-08T23:10:00.004-05:00

He was alive the last time my sister got married.

Summer's End

2011-09-04T19:54:00.000-05:00

The garden is producing more than I can handle. I have ziplock bag after bag filled with frozen green beans. I've made basil and oregano pesto - frozen without the Parmesan. I have made a number of "mystery" pasta sauces from tomatoes and peppers from mine and Chakra Queen's garden, respectively. I have eaten cucumbers in every shape and form since the beginning of July. I am trying my hand at the season's first pickles tonight.

1 cup of boiling water

1/3 cup kosher salt

(stir until salt is dissolved)

5 smashed cloves of garlic

2 Tablespoons of dried dill

(or fresh, but I couldn't find it)

2 pounds of quartered cucumbers

Combine all ingredients with the saltwater. Try them after 4-12 hours. Refrigerate when they taste "pickle-ey." They will continue to pickle, but more slowly. YUM.

The whole not moving thing really disappointed me. I was looking forward to a new place with more light and room. But I do believe with my whole heart that there was a reason it all fell through. My garden, right? It is my peace and joy most days. Gay Boyfriend was so sad that I was thinking of moving. I had no idea until I told him I wasn't going. We are going shopping for a new toilet and shower surround tomorrow. He also has a countertop to mount in the kitchen for a "table" and extra baking room. I've missed baking. I've missed cooking, period. No counter space means not much freedom to cook.

I embarked on a clean and destroy mission since I decided to stay here. Washing walls, vacuuming for hours at a time, rearranging, polishing, washing windows, going through drawers and cabinets. I took every single picture and painting down and I'm going to replace them. All of them. New Life, once again. I have to do something, right?

I haven't written much lately. I don't like to write when I'm not well. But I think things are turning around in New Life world. I'm certain the coast is clear just yet, but it's better.

Vacation 2011

2011-08-20T15:56:00.001-05:00

I am home. Alive and well. Rested and relaxed. And I get to see Baby Z again in exactly 20 days. That is all.

Not Okay.

2011-08-11T22:53:00.002-05:00

Am no longer moving. After I gave my notice to Gay Boyfriend, she told me she wanted $125 more than I agreed to. She tried to call and justify it. But who DOES that? Seriously. I have been bawling. I was so excited to move somewhere new and light and bright. No longer. I am staying in the basement. Thank God Gay Boyfriend is okay with that. The man that was going to move in is also okay with it, or I would be homeless at the end of the month.

This is just the icing on the cake. This year sucks. 2011? I don't like you, at all.

Family

2011-08-09T21:45:00.003-05:00

I'm going here on Sunday. I can't tell you what a relief it is to be getting away. My lake. My family. My second home. We have been going to this resort for 35 years. I remember when I was little, my brother and I would plan a minute by minute schedule of what we were going to do when we were there. In my teenage years, I was horrified by the whole spending time with my family thing. When I was in college, it was awesome to get away for a free vacation. When I was drinking? I hated it. Despised it. Loathed it. I had to stay sober for a week. And I was awful. Horrid. Mean. The last thing I wanted to do was spend time with my family.

The first year of sobriety, it was difficult, but okay. The last three years? Awesome. Amazing. Lovely. Heartfelt. And this year? It is exactly what I want to do. It is the respite that I need and want. It is my 95 year old grandma, my 2 year old nephew and all the people in between them that I want in my life. It is joy and hope and laughter and love.

I have had a really hard time this spring and summer. I will admit that, and my blog shows it. I am ready to be with the people I love for a week. Not that I don't love the people in my day to day life, but that's what vacation is about, right? Getting away. New perspectives. Freedom. I need it. I want it. And I think I will heal there. The lake heals me somehow. The familiarity of the location helps. The love I have for the lake helps. Hearing the loons as I go to bed helps. Rest. Rest really helps.

Outside

2011-08-08T21:50:00.002-05:00

The Best Date in the World took me to an outdoor concert tonight. It was exactly what I needed. I could not afford to go to the folk music festival this past weekend, so when he texted me and told me that my favorites from Acoustic Christmas were playing for free in the park, I went. I NEVER go anywhere on a weekday night. I want to hide and play scared and tired. So, it was a Big Deal that I went. And he knew it, too. Sad, but true. He told me we could sit in the back because he was expecting a phone call. I told him I was glad because I would want to leave before it was done. He knows me. Oh my goodness, he knows me. The concert was only an hour long and I was home by 8:30 pm. Yeah! My kind of deal.

It was lovely. I sat. I listened. I hummed along. I was happy. Quietly happy. That is a good, good thing.

Living

2011-08-07T21:10:00.002-05:00

I am having trouble writing. Things are not well in New Life Land. I have had to do things that make me sick to my stomach. Good things. Right things. Appropriate things. But I'm not well. I'm struggling. And I wish it was different. I wish I could tell you that sobriety is all bunnies and butterflies, but it's not. It sucks. It's hard. And I have to do hard things. Things that make my tummy hurt. Things that make me throw up, I'm so anxious about. But I'm doing it. I'm doing the right things. No matter what. I have been crying a lot. My hair is a wreck. My house is a disaster. I'm trying to move in the midst of going on vacation and dealing with my emotions. It's not good. But I'm going to be okay. That much I know. This living thing is hard. Did I tell you that I'm on page 518 of the Big Book? When I found it, I knew that I belonged.

"I had never expected to live to see thirty. Suddenly, I was 29 1/2 and showing no signs of dying anytime soon. I knew in my heart that I would live whether I drank or not, and that no matter how bad it was, it could always get worse. Some people get sober because they're afraid to die. I knew I would live, and that was far more terrifying. I had surrendered."

I am alive. And I have to live differently, or I will die. I know that. I am trying that. I am scared of that. I am alive.

This is All I Can Do Today

2011-07-31T17:58:00.000-05:00

Change

2011-07-25T22:13:00.002-05:00

Internet? I am moving! I told Gay Boyfriend tonight. I was sick to my stomach to tell him. Mostly because I love him so much. We have four years of history together, and he has been my saving grace many nights of my early sobriety. But it's time. And I have a place. A two bedroom walk out basement apartment. All mine. New. All new. So new, that she asked me to go pick out paint colors. What?! I don't think I've ever lived in a place where I got to pick my colors. And I'm at a loss. I'm thinking chocolate brown for the living room and sage green for the kitchen, but the bedroom with the light? The office (second bedroom! Holy!) no idea. Darker and wrapping into warmness, or bright light for those dark winter nights? I don't know! I'm almost scared, I think.

This is a big change for me. The fact that Gay Boyfriend was not mad? Or pouty? So big. I was dreading telling him.

But now, I have to think about moving. Sorting. Storing. I refuse to move anything I don't want. Clothes. Books. Camping gear. Bedding. Kitchen crap. I have no idea. It's overwhelming.

But I want it. I do. I'm holding on to that. Right?

Happy Feet Friday

2011-07-21T22:10:00.002-05:00

A totally overexposed picture of my toes. I haven't written in so long, I'm not even sure where to start. The peas grow at night. I've told you that before, right? The snow peas. They grow overnight. They are the only ones that seem to have a nocturnal focus. I go to bed, after picking the ripe beans, snow peas, cucumbers and beets. And when I go out in the morning, the peas are sparkling. They have grown new shoots. They didn't do well this wet spring, but they are producing. Slowly, but surely.

I grow at night. I grow in those dark places that don't feel good. I have not been well. Since February, if I'm going to be honest. And if anything, I'm honest. Five months of insecurity, questioning, sleeplessness and pain. My friendships are changing. My job has changed. My focus has changed. I am swimming in uncharted waters when it comes to emotional health. But I'm okay. I know this to be true. I may not like where I've landed at 4 1/2 years of sobriety, but I know enough to keep doing the deal. To keep pursuing this New Life of mine. I'm not giving it up. And I'm not giving in to complacency, poor decision making or letting people walk all over me. I know enough today that I need help in setting boundaries and re-defining what sobriety looks like for me.

I'm not unhappy. Please, do not think that. I have always said that no matter what happens in sobriety, I may not be happy, but I always have a flicker of joy in my heart. And it beams. It really does.

So. The peas. They grow at night. And I'm growing in this valley. I will come out with produce. I know that. I just haven't picked it yet.

Fertile Crescent 2011 July Edition

2011-07-17T15:48:00.017-05:00

It's growing and green.

I'll show you the disappointments first. The snow peas. I planted them on all sides of the tiki trellis, but only one side grew. I've eaten maybe 10 of them?
Aaaand the radishes. It got too hot, too fast and they bolted. Lots of bug eaten greenery and no roots. Ever wicked and rash, I yanked those babies up and put them in the compost pile. I'll plant some more in the fall.
Onto pleasanter things. My Yellow Boys.
Ultimate Openers.
Last minute pepper plants I got for a quarter.
Lettuce. Eaten every day last week. I figured I better harvest it before the heat wave came and fried it. I'll keep it watered and see if it grows back again, but I have my doubts in this week long 100 degree swelter-fest.
Spaghetti Squash. You should see it today. It's wilted. And I fear it may have gotten the same wood bores that it got last year. We shall see. It's too hot to go out and look at right now.
Cucumbers! It's my first time growing them. I never liked them. Cowgirl kept feeding them to me last summer in all kinds of creamy ranch dressings and milk and sugar and yuck. But this spring, when I was cooking at Tallgrass, they needed a salad, so I mixed up what they had on hand; tomatoes, red onion and sliced cucumbers in a balsamic vinaigrette with tons of sea salt and black pepper and voila! I LOVE cucumbers!
See? I already have one.
This passel of leaves gives me...
This. Delightful. The pole beans were quite stringy last year, so I did bush beans this year, and after New Life Dad brought me some fencing to keep the baby rabbits out, they are flourishing. I was willing to give the rabbits the cabbage last year, but I will not sacrifice the beans.
My first harvest of Chiogga Beets. They were delightful, boiled, skinned and sliced into my salad last week. They are small, but were in danger of bolting also. I still have a ton in the ground to get fat and sleek.
Chives. I've never grown them before. I'm not sure what to put them in. I think I've only ever had them in cottage cheese.
I still don't feel like writing. So I took Melissa Lion's suggestion and gave you pictures instead.

Writing at a Loss

2011-07-05T22:23:00.003-05:00

I don't know what to write, really. I want to write. I do. But something is keeping me from it. I don't know if it's self-pity, tiredness, writer's block or what. I'm angry. I know that. That's a big step for me, to know and acknowledge that. My blog has been full of anger for quite some time now. I don't know how to stop it, other than to write about it, and yet, writing is not coming to me. I have written a lot of things that do not show up here. It's too personal; it's too painful. But I'm writing. And I know that is the key for my sanity right now. But I miss you, my internet friends. I can't write right now. And that is a problem. Because writing orders my life and my feelings. I'm at a loss. Any suggestions?

Fertile Crescent 2011

2011-06-26T17:15:00.007-05:00

I have been remiss in showing you pictures of my garden. It is growing. It is green. It is verdant and it makes me happy.
I tried to grow snap peas on the trellis this year and they just didn't do very well. I'm considering what else I could grow there. The beets and radishes are abundant and crazy green. I've eaten a few radishes already. I always feel so decadent when I pull something from the ground, brush the dirt off it and eat it.

There are five different kinds of tomatoes, beans, lettuce (which I have already been eating) two kinds of squash, cucumbers, basil, oregano, chives and two different kinds of peppers in this picture.

I'm kind of catching on to this whole gardening thing. I planted in 2009 because I was bored. I planned and plotted the 2010 garden. This year? I just put in what I wanted and have left the rest to nature. It's lovely. And it makes me happy. Although, the whole weeding and meditation time has changed a lot. There's nothing to weed these days. Just a bit of crabgrass now and again. But I sit and look and breathe and pray. Food for the soul more than anything else.

Lake Poinsett 2011

2011-06-21T20:54:00.020-05:00

Well, following that sick episode, I had to decide whether or not I was going to go camping as we had planned. I was still quite shaky on Friday, so Cowgirl and Dirty Ben went up on Friday night and I vowed to come in the morning. Lucky me, I woke up at 5:30 a.m. Not sure if all was totally okay, but ready to go. I'd packed and showered the night before, so picked up the requested milk and ice and I was off.

Munchkin Number 3 had just woken up when I got there. Hello, baby!

Dirty Ben had just woken up too. Hello, grouchy.Munchkin Number 2 was so excited to exit her tent and see me, she threw herself into my arms. Hello lovely girl! And wearing a dress to go camping? Excellent.Her pensive fishing amused me. She was oblivious to the world. Her main focus was the bobber and whether or not it moved a single millimeter.Later in the evening when mommy and Dirty Ben went out in the kayak to fish, I was busy watching all the girls and the boy. When she started rummaging through the kitchen bin and emerged with the dish wand, I didn't think anything of it. She loves to do "experiments" with water and dirt and soap. But when I looked up and saw this, I asked what she was doing. "Washing my rocks! They are dirty! And they have germs!" Oh, my lovely girl. Washing rocks.Munchkin Number 3 fought sleep. Fought and fought and fought it. There was Too! Much! Action! I! Can't! Miss! So, when I sent the girls off to shower, he tucked in with a bottle and fell asleep in 30 seconds. What bliss. To fall asleep to the sound of waves on the shore.

This is what mommy and Dirty Ben were doing. Catching breakfast. We had fresh potato chip crusted walleye for breakfast on Sunday. What more could you ask for? Seriously.After the babe was asleep, it was time to party. It was overcast all day, but around 7 p.m. it got humid and hot. I jumped in.Directly followed by ZBear, Munchkin Number 2 and Munchkin Number 1. We had a blast. We found crawfish, shells, skeletons and all kinds of things in the water. That's why we had to wear our shoes. Too many poky things and old fish hooks.And when mommy and Dirty Ben came back, he took the girls out one by one to fish. This is a perfect Daddy and Daughter moment. He loves her so.Munchkin Number 2 had a really hard time. It was too dark to go out when it was her turn. The meltdown was loud and palpable until the negotiations of who got to sleep in Kate's tent started. It was her. She won. And I snuggled with her all night long. Her first statement in the morning, "Is it my turn yet?" Oh, yes. Yes, it is.Sunday dawned lovely and sunny. We tried to get Munchkin Number 3 to crawl. We hold him too much. He has no reason to be mobile. Munchkin Number 2 drags him by a leg to get him where she wants him to be. I pick him up when he cries. He face planted several times in this attempt at crawling. Teenage Angst is there in the background. She was brave to go camping with us. Her boredom tolerance is so low.Cowgirl and her boy.We ended the day with sunshine.

And the packing up started when the meltdowns were no longer tolerable or manageable. At one point, the kids were told to get in the ** car and Dirty Ben, Cowgirl and I muddled through the breaking down of camp, trying not to be angry with one another. It was ugly. But that's having to leave the loveliness of getting away. I'm sorry about that part, but I'm clinging to the good. I'm no longer sick. I'm rested. I got to hold the children and play in the sun. There's nothing more that makes me feel grateful in life. And that's something to celebrate.

Happy Feet Friday

2011-06-16T19:02:00.004-05:00

I am very sick, Internet. I had coffee with Miss M this morning. We were giggling and catching up; I was very happy. It was sunny. It was warm. It was lovely. Coffee on the veranda with one of my best friends? So beautiful. We both slept in, she was off for the day, I didn't have to work until noon. I left around 10:45 for a shower, looking forward to work and a long-lost client.

And I got sick. In the shower. I was standing there, head down, massaging conditioner into my hair, when I felt dizzy. So, so dizzy. I threw my head up like I always do, grasping the wall, and I threw up. Too much coffee and not enough food? Okay. I'll take that.

As I dressed, put on makeup and curled my hair, I got more and more sweaty. Feeling trapped and wishing I had an infusion of cold, crisp air, I determined to go into work. That's what you do, right? Just get dressed and do the deal, it will pass.

By the time I left the gas station, where I figured I better get some food into my tummy, I was dizzy and gasping for air. I got into work; my boss was sitting at the front desk, determined to take care of the things she had to get done. She, warbling on about me answering the phone, me, hanging onto the counter for dear life, when I said, "I don't feel well at all." And then promptly collapsed into the waiting chair.

I didn't want to be sick at my new job, Internet. I wanted to be the trustworthy one that always showed up no matter what. But I had no choice today. I called my doctor. And I sat at that damn front desk for an hour and 15 minutes, waiting for Miss M to come get me and take me to see him. I was grateful we weren't busy, because more than once, I put my head down, wishing I would just succumb to whatever was going on. Dizziness, shaking beyond belief, nausea and panic.

I have a virus that is affecting my inner ear. Hence, the dizziness. The shaking was too much though. When I asked about it, he said, "I know you, Kate. I've known you for seven years. You get anxious about getting sick. That's the shakiness." And I wanted to punch him in the nose. Because he's right. Ever since I got meningitis, I freak out about sickness. I went directly to diabetes, low blood sugar, pancreatitis, liver cancer, and once again, meningitis. But nothing doing. I'm simply sick. Like every other human being. There is nothing dire wrong with me that a good night's (and day's) sleep won't fix. I can take medicine for my vertigo. I can sleep until I'm not tired. And I can calm the heck down. I'm fine. Just sick. With a horrible earache and an upset stomach.

I'm so dramatic. Right?

Therapy Tuesday

2011-06-14T11:18:00.003-05:00

I'm sitting at the coffee shop, drinking Ethiopian Harrar. I do believe I am the only English speaking person here and it's kind of fun. I love my coffee shop. So eclectic. And it's only five blocks from my house. How convenient is that?

Therapy Tuesday was a little shocking, actually. One of the players on this blog has, I believe, a terrible eating disorder. It's addiction taking on another form to control the pain and unmanageability of life. And it's hard to watch. Because I am helpless to do anything about it. As with any addiction, you can say anything you want, but it falls on deaf ears until someone is willing to hear you. So, I say what I have to say for me, knowing that it is unheard.

But Miss M drew a terrible connection for me on Saturday night that needed to be explored with Carolyn. She said, "Isn't loving her and watching her slowly killing herself a lot like loving and watching The Dead Guy kill himself?" And it gave me great pause. Because yes. It's almost exactly the same thing. I make excuses for her, I shield her from other's concern, I censor my own thoughts about what's going on so I can still stand to be around her. And I've given up saying anything because I know it will do no good. And I just wait. Wait for her to come back to me.

And she may or may not. Come back. She may die just like he did. And I have a choice here. To do the same thing - wait around for her to recognize what she's doing to herself, or to do something else. And I don't know what that something else is yet.

But I do know one thing. I am a different woman than the one I was five years ago. I no longer believe in giving refuge to addiction. And I get to make choices today. Better ones. Even if I don't know what those choices are quite yet.

Happy Feet Friday

2011-06-09T21:06:00.002-05:00

I'm going to write you something happy. I LOVE MY JOB. If there's anything right now that makes me happy, it's working with people; helping them change their lives. No, it's not always happy. There are tragic circumstances involved in what I do. And I'm learning how to let those things go when I lock the door at night.

But for the most part? When I leave my job at the end of the day, I bask in the glory that is giving people hope. I give, yes. But I get so much more out of giving. I can't even tell you how it feels other than wonder. Wonderment. Wonder FULL. I am full of wonder that I do this thing. That I am ALLOWED to do this. It is a gift to me that I can hardly fathom.

My problems. My concerns. They fade away as I teach. As I listen. As I sit in awe of the pain people share with me. That I am the safe person they trust. Who is this woman I have turned into? I love her. I love that she cares. I love that she patiently waits through someone's tears to offer hope.

I do not recognize this woman, but she is me. And it is wonderful.

Struggling

2011-06-08T22:16:00.001-05:00

Doing my very best. And somehow tonight, it is not enough. Sigh.

Therapy Tuesday

2011-06-07T21:10:00.003-05:00

This is a maudlin (and long) post. I will admit it from the beginning. It's most likely full of self-pity and recrimination, but if I'm honest about it, that's where I'm at. Please don't worry about my sanity. I am okay. I had a discussion about "okayness" with Weed Killer today. (He is a new player. Please welcome him to the insanity of this blog.) Okay in my world means that I will keep walking. Keep trudging. Keep doing what I know I need to do. It doesn't mean I am happy and carefree "okay." It means that I will continue to do the things I know will help me heal. That is the caveat of this post. Read it carefully before proceeding.

This subject comes up once a month it seems. I will let you surmise the reason why. I am a woman. Carolyn asked me this morning what peace meant to me. I told her it meant outdoors and sunshine and water. Dirty Ben was very concerned that I was angry with him when he got to the lake on Saturday. He asked Cowgirl about it and she just laughed. She replied, "Kate is at the lake like you are on your kayak. That is the zone." He apparently had asked me a question and I just ummmhmmmed and laid back down. Because that IS my peace. It's my place. And I can lay there for hours, getting up occasionally for children begging for a snack and checking to see who needs a re-application of sunscreen. It is my peace. The place where everything goes away. It is lying on a floatie with a 10 year old, talking about nothing in particular. It is the lake. It is me.

So when she asked me what still makes me sad, I told her. It's the fact that I have wanted to be a mother since - forever. Forever, forever. I don't recall ever not wanting that. I went to college because that's what was expected of me. I planned to meet someone and get married and stay at home with my children like my own mother did. I remember January of my senior year and having the realization it wasn't happening and "Crap! I don't know what I want to do! I've never thought about it!" Because I didn't. Never thought about a career. Because my career was being a mother.

So today. Facing perimenopause. Childless. No husband in sight. Conversations about having a child on my own come to the forefront. And I can't do it. I just can't. I will reiterate time and again, I think there are some fantastic single parents out there. But I won't willingly do that. I won't. And I can't.

Through her divorce, Cowgirl is able to buy a house. I am jealous of that, but it's also something I know I don't want. I have never wanted to own anything in my single-ness. You know? When the water heater goes out in the middle of the night? The sewage system backs up. The roof suddenly leaks in a hailstorm? I can't DO those things by myself. I just can't. I can't deal with adversity on my own. I need a partner. I need someone to temper me. I need that second person there.

Yes. I have incredible friends. I AM an incredible friend. I have picked Cowgirl's kids up from daycare. I have taken Teenage Angst to Junior High dances because she didn't want her father to. I play this role. The childless woman. Who is there for everyone who needs a break. And that's why I refuse to do it myself. Because I know that first night of screaming infant will break me. And I will have no one to temper me. To come to my rescue. That's why I don't do it.

So. I try to accept it. And it's not an easy acceptance. I have always thought I would be an incredible mother. So I try my best to find ways to make that okay. I help other mothers get their children back into their custody. I hop-to when Cowgirl has a meltdown with her teenager. I am trying to make sense of it all. And in the midst of that, I cry. Because I don't understand why I don't get to be a mother.

Say all you want about nurturing and mothering my garden, the children who look up to me, the work I do to help other women get their children back. In the end, it sucks. That I don't get to do this thing called motherhood.

I googled childless women today. Most of the forums were in regards to infertility. I haven't found one about women who are childless through circumstance. It hurts. I can't tell you how much it hurts. To not have a solution to this. And there IS no solution but acceptance. And I'm struggling with that today. I don't expect you to understand. Not one bit. But the ache is there. Every month it seems these days.

Beach Days

2011-06-05T17:54:00.007-05:00

The sun is doing it's healing properties on my soul. I am sunburned and happy. Two lovely weekend days at the lake and the pool. I've worn three swimsuits and four different kinds of sunscreen. All of them smell like bananas.

Munchkin Number 3 loved the sand. He picked up handful after handful and let it slide through his fingers. Sometimes tasting (and eating) it and sometimes just sifting through.
Dirty Ben and Cowgirl are together now. Dirty Ben likes to fish from his kayak. This beach is perfect for stopping in and picking up passengers. Munchkin Number 2 was not at all happy about this boat ride but did well for about 15 minutes.
And during said ride, Cowgirl looked over and said, "They buried my kid." And yes. Yes, they did bury that kid. But just his legs. He was pretty crabby when I swished him in the water to wash him off.
So they built him a sand puddle. He didn't like the cold water of the lake, but he was perfectly happy in his little puddle of warmer water. He splashed and splashed and squished sand to his heart's content.
The munchkins built "the best sandcastle ever" by hauling in sand from the lake. Apparently wet sand is better?
And we managed to take over an entire corner of the beach. Par for the course with 10 live bodies. The umbrella performed awesomely for the babe.
And here I am on Sunday night. I spent the day at the pool with one of the SPGs. ( Skinny Ponytail Girls) from Running Club. And I'm tired. Sun tired. Which means good tired. I'm coming around, Internet. I'm going to make it. It's going to be a glorious summer.

Right?

Memorial Day?

2011-05-30T16:56:00.002-05:00

It's better, Internet. I want you to know that. May has been horrible to my soul, but I'm coming out of it. And I'm proud of me. For doing what it takes to stay in the day, in the moment, in the fight.

We went to the lake today. Because it was finally sunny and hot. There is a terrible storm brewing, but I'm trying not to think about it, because hail=loss of plants. And my garden is just now starting to sprout. I'm dirty, wind swept and sunburned. If you read me on facebook, you already know that. But it feels good to tell you here. The sun does wonders for my soul.

School was nothing like I thought it would be. I learned more about ethics by simply being in the class than by anything I actually learned. I now know what drives me, what I'm most passionate about, and what my priorities are when it comes to working in the field of chemical dependency. And I'm even more determined that I should be right where I am right now in this world because of it.

Memorial Day? I wanted very much to go to the cemetery this weekend. I thought about it off and on for the past four days. But I decided not to. He is not there. He has never been there. He was in an urn in his father's closet for several years and now that his father is gone? I have no idea where he is. They may have scattered his ashes according to his wishes or not. I will never know. But I have the feeling I WOULD know if they did. So, I'm pretty sure he's stuck in another closet somewhere else. And no matter how I feel about that, I don't get to make that decision. So I trudge on. Yes. I trudge on. Because I am going to grasp every little bit of joy out of what life I have left because I wasted so many years of happiness.

Pink Drinks

2011-05-23T21:19:00.002-05:00

Captain Crab was in town tonight. When he is here, I usually meet him for drinks. Apparently, he drinks martinis now. I have pink drinks. 7Up and Cranberry Juice. The bartender wanted to know if I wanted it in a "fancy glass" or a "regular pop glass." What? I have no illusions about what I'm drinking. And I want no pretense. Pop glass it is. I think that's weird. People thinking I want other people to think I'm drinking alcohol. No thank you.

But Captain Crab makes me smile. And it was a good panacea for my current bout with The Crazy. He asked me why there were no pictures of the Fertile Crescent so far this year. It didn't even occur to me that you Internettians didn't know I had put it in. And that's been part of this descent into depression. I put it in, knowing that it would help me, but I'm not excited like I have been in years past. I dig in the dirt and I hope for some peace, but it hasn't been forthcoming. But I keep doing it because I know it's what I need, right?

So, here's a picture. I have radishes, beets, snow peas, a roma tomato plant, a cherry tomato plant, a Lemon Boy, an Ultimate Opener and Green Sausage tomato plants, summer squash, spaghetti squash, cucumbers, basil, oregano, chives, lavender, and nastursiums. I planted lettuce as well. We shall see. My pepper plant has already been decimated by something that stomped on it.

When I took inventory, I realized that my closet vomiting my clothes all over my bedroom, my lack of vacuuming, the dishes piled in the sink; these are all symptoms of my inability to manage life right now. And Chakra Queen was right. It was time to reassess and take action. I'm feeling better. My clothes are put away. I have done most of the dishes and I finally cleaned. Some. Not all. But some.

And school is okay.

I'm going to be fine. I know this intellectually, but I'm hard pressed to accept it emotionally.

Sigh

2011-05-22T18:19:00.004-05:00

I just want you to know that things are better. Not good, but better. I'm still isolating. Still lonely. Still confused. But I'm okay. And the fact that I KNOW I will be okay is the best part of it all. I am doing the right actions to take care of myself, and that's the important part.

I am going to school next week. Excited, but scared. I haven't taken a class in many, many years. I drove there today to make sure I knew where I was going. I have read my book, I have a new notebook. Because that's what you do, right? But scared. Was not anticipating that. I'm a good student. And I love learning, so this momentary panic is unfamiliar.

Sigh. I don't know what else to tell you other than I'm doing the next right things and I'm hoping for the best. Because that's all I can do.

Happy Feet Friday

2011-05-19T21:27:00.002-05:00

Sigh. I even hesitate to write tonight. It's been a very trying week. It's gone from bad to worse and I am hanging on by a thread. I'm going to make it though. I am. If anything, I am a survivor. My head is not okay, my body is not okay, my emotions are totally out of whack, and I'm just plain tired.

I'm doing all the right things. I keep telling myself that. This is February's meltdown come May. And it feels way more extreme than any meltdown I have experienced since I got sober. I've had some really hard times in sobriety, but this one? It's winning. And I don't want it to win.

I am not going into detail, but Saturday, I had to go to the ER and I've since been diagnosed with peri-menopause. At 38. I know that my drinking messed up my hormones. Bad. I've had night sweats and hot flashes since my late 20s. The "feel-good" hormones in my brain have been broken for a long, long time. I take antidepressants reluctantly, but I do. Because if I have another major depressive episode, I know that I will drink again. And to drink is to die for me. So, I do what I am told and swallow those little pink pills every morning, hoping for the best.

But the early menopause thing? I googled it. And everything on the Internet is true, right? Ha! I lost all hope of a baby. I went down that black hole of regret and shame. I've been praying (whatever praying is for me anymore) that The Universe would see fit to make me a mother, with the caveat that The Universe knows what it is doing and should it NOT see fit, that I would gain the necessary acceptance to move on and foster new dreams. But in my heart? I didn't want the caveat and I didn't mean it. I don't mean it. Not one bit.

But now? My body is revolting. And I have to sincerely come to terms with the fact that it may never happen. And it's killing me inside. I have been urged by Carolyn to call my psychiatrist for months now. And today was the day. Last night's pain and confusion scared me enough to take action.

This is not going away. And when the nurse started to question me, I lost it. Totally lost it. She asked me what was going on and I spilled it. Cowgirl's divorce and not seeing the munchkins anymore. I love my new job and I don't actively go home and worry about clients, but the days someone breaks down in my office? I fall apart later because I relate. The Jason look-alike brought all kinds of shit into my brain that I don't want to think about. Miss M is in grad school and I never see her anymore. I found that stupid journal that I don't remember writing. The seasons are changing. My body is messed up beyond belief? I'm not okay.

So. I did what I've been told to do. I make the phone calls. I humble myself enough to say that I can't do it on my own. And I take the right actions, whether I want to or not. I'm not proud of where I am today, but I'm proud of the actions I am taking. It took some convincing by Chakra Queen at lunch today, but I did it. Because I AM a survivor. I WILL manage this. Not react to it, but manage it.

Water

2011-05-16T08:44:00.003-05:00

Saturday morning, I just wanted to get out of town. And even though it was cold, windy and somewhat sprinkly, I went to the lake. See those birds? They were swooping and flying and being buffeted in the wind, as I was. I crouched down next to the water and put my fingers in. I touched the water to my cheeks. I felt alive. Water is alive. I am alive.

And then I drove home. Someday soon. I will walk into the water and feel it cleanse my soul.

Happy Feet Friday

2011-05-13T22:29:00.005-05:00

Today was another rough one. Too many emotions, not enough patience to walk through them. Fighting a massive shut down. The thing is, I've been here before and I'm taking all the right actions to keep me upright. And I have every faith that I will get through this current siege. Not unscathed, but through it with a minimum of scars.

And it was taking the right action to plan the first backyard bonfire of the season. I figured come Friday, I would just want to crawl in a hole and die. And I did. I know myself too well, right? So, I sent out a massive text and a facebook invite and committed to burning wood on Friday night. It was spitting rain all day off and on. I considered sending another massive text about cancelling, but I didn't. I stayed the course that I set. And well? I did it. I followed through on my plans. And even though I was not the best hostess in the world, it was nice to know that I was surrounded by people who love me and care about me, and I, them.

Chakra Queen is my saving grace right now. She doesn't like to talk on the phone. And the last time I called her, she found herself driving to my house at what seemed like the middle of the night to check on me. As I was sobbing, I saw the lights of her SUV and said, "Are you here?" And she said, "Of course I am." And her mere presence gives me peace. The sobbing subsided and just a little bit of serenity found its way into my heart.

Internet? This recovery crap is hard shit. Walking through emotions, bad behaviors. Everything. I know I'm doing the right things. That's ALL I know. And that's all I need to know right now, I guess. The pain will take it's course.

Therapy Tuesday

2011-05-11T07:10:00.003-05:00

Sitting at my favorite coffee shop, reading blogs. Yes. I am reading your blogs. Because I miss you.

No matter how transparent I am on my blog, I can't write about Therapy Tuesday. I am discovering things that I simply don't believe, can't wrap my head around, and fill me with utter dread. Terrified but willing. I will continue to remind myself of my willingness when my courage falters.

The Fertile Crescent is planted. Tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, beets, snap peas, radishes. I have seeds for three kinds of squash, green beans and chives. The oregano and lavender did not survive the winter. I'm going to explore some different herbs this year. Any suggestions? I'm thinking chamomile. It's supposed to be soothing, right? And I need some soothing.

When I told Carolyn about the journal, her immediate question was whether or not my garden was in. Because she knows. It's the number one thing that helps me regroup, calm my anxiety and process my day. Standing in the dirt, watering the tomatoes, plucking a few weeds. The therapeutic value of that is worth more than the money I pay Carolyn to conjure up these painful memories and make them a working part of my history.

So when Gay Janitor showed me that the hose actually reaches the backyard this year, I thanked him but said I wasn't going to use it. Weird, huh? But that's part of the ritual that calms. Going back and forth to the spigot with the watering can. Standing there, waiting for it to fill and sloshing it back to the garden. Forces me to slow down.

That's where I'm going to be, my friends. In the garden. Every night. Until those blank spots are filled for good or for worse. And then I'm going to keep standing at the spigot, making those memories a part of my soul.

The Dig

2011-05-09T22:11:00.002-05:00

Things have been very topsy turvy in New Life Land these last couple of months. I went back to Carolyn. In fact, I see her tomorrow. I'm terrified, but willing. That is the phrase I am hanging on to at the moment. I found this journal, you see. And I read it. And I have absolutely no recollection of writing it or living it. But it's there in black and white. My hand writing. I recognize that hand writing, but I don't recollect writing it.

I have been banned from my journals for many years now. They do me no good but to fuel the fire of misunderstanding and want for The Dead Guy. But this one? I don't remember it. I was terrified of him. Most every day, I was. So scared of waking up to someone I didn't recognize anymore. But I don't remember it. Not one bit. And yet, there it is. And what do I do with that? So, I go to Carolyn. Because she's good at helping me remember. And I have no idea what kind of hurt that is going to bring. I have no idea what it is that I so don't want to remember. But it's there. And it's scary.

And I'm frightened. So, I call and I cry and I ask for help. Like I know how to do now. I request that people hold my hand. I ask for someone to rub my back. And I hope for the willingness that it takes to uncover whatever it is that I don't remember. Because I have this feeling that this is the end. The end of the hurt. The end of the pain. The very end of the unknown. And I wish I could be mad at him, but I'm not. I'm just so very sad. As usual. Sad. That he had to live his life as a lie and he sucked me into it so much that I don't even remember it. And now I do the hard work of excavation to make it real and whole and a part of my working mind.

Therapy Thursday

2011-05-05T15:43:00.003-05:00

Hello Internet. I had therapy on Thursday this week. It doesn't roll off the toungue as well as Therapy Tuesday, but whatever. It's therapy day. And I go back next Tuesday. Because we are uncovering a whole load of crap that I have chosen up until last Tuesday to leave in the dark. Where I wanted it buried for good.

But for reasons only The Universe knows, that casket was getting deep cracks in it from the weight of the pain. And it was no longer holding. Pieces of it would break off and find their way to my heart, stabbing it in a familiar way. I'd been trying to shy away from it. You know when you breathe slowly and shallowly with bruised and broken ribs, the piercing pain subsides? That's what I've been doing. Breathing so shallowly that I wasn't getting enough air. The panic began in earnest about a month ago, which made me gasp late at night when I put my guard down and then the thrust of pain hit even deeper.

So I flounced into Carolyn's office last Tuesday and said, "I'm ready." And spewed seven years' worth of secrets into the air. I threw up once. At one point, I was gasping for breath, unable to speak and trying to let my hands tell her without words. And I ended the whole conversation curled in a ball on her couch, clutching a pillow to my chest, no longer even crying. But filled with a silent dread. I have sat on that couch since August of 2004, when if I had told her the truth then, I would not be where I am today. Stuck and frustrated. But as she assures me, I didn't even really know the truth then to be able to tell it.

When the dust cleared, I looked up at her. The first time I'd looked at her at all since I entered her office and said, "Now what?" And she said, "We will let the process do it's work." And well? I thought just the telling of it would make it better. Turns out, we have to open all these old wounds and examine why they were knit so badly together. I didn't care for them when they were healing, so I have to cut them out and heal them all over again. What? Sigh.

Late last Wednesday night, 48 hours after I let loose the beast in my brain, I completely lost it. There was a sobbing emergency call to Chakra Queen who flew right into crisis counseling mode and made me promise not to hurt myself and calmed me down enough to go to bed. I had no idea these ghosts were so powerful. When I went back to Carolyn this last time, she asked me what I was afraid of. And I told her my feelings were too big. Just too big. And now I see the reality of that. This is too big for me. All of it.

But somehow, I am convinced that this last piece of my past, in the light of day, will heal some part of me that keeps me enslaved.

The Best Weekend of Spring.

2011-05-01T20:20:00.010-05:00

Remember the last time I saw Baby Z? It's been since Thanksgiving. And my heart has been breaking ever since. He is the love of my life. He is what keeps my cold, hard, heart beating, when I don't want it to beat. It's been six months since I have held him. I wasn't surprised he didn't recognize me, but it hurt. Oh, how it hurt. They got there late on Saturday night and he was in no mood to entertain anyone. We finally just decided to go to bed and see what happened in the morning. My brother brought him into my bedroom at 7 a.m. He wasn't so sure what to think of me and scurried off to grandma and grandpa's room to snuggle in bed with them. Mom and dad needed to sleep in.

He has a way of ignoring you. He is sly like that. But so cheerful about it. He knows an incredible amount of sign language, which is what his mom and dad wanted for him. Bananas, all done, and down! And then we started to play. Grandma and Grandpa picked up a scooter that lights up and talks and beeps when you press the buttons. Enamored. That's the right word.

And daddy's old "work bench?" Holy. I love it! Grandpa showed me how to take the "nails" out by using the back of the hammer. Wow!
When mommy and daddy got up, I wanted to sit at the counter. They tied me in with a dishcloth. Silly grandma. I squiggled my way out of it in two minutes and was standing on the counter in three. Doesn't she know I'm Houdini?
Daddy's glasses make things look so funny! I love them!
Grandma and Grandpa got me my first tent. It has a tunnel! Curious George and I crawled and giggled and chased Aunt Kate through it for hours this morning.
See? She doesn't really fit in there, but whatever. We were playing.
I found Grandma's lazy susan. It spinned and spinned and spinned and spinned. Fast, slow, inbetween. It is so amazing! The napkins and butter ended up on the floor, but Grandma doesn't care. She loves me too much.
And then well? I got so sleepy. Daddy was so cozy. And mommy and Aunt Kate were catching up, so I fell asleep. Daddy, Grandpa and me on the couch. That's how it's supposed to be, right?

When it was time for dinner, Daddy laid me down in the tent. It was my first camping trip and I didn't even know it. I love Curious George. I change his diaper and cuddle him all the time.
Aunt Kate and Daddy? They are from the same family, did I tell you that?

Happy Hippity Hoppity Day

2011-04-24T19:54:00.002-05:00

If you've been reading for any amount of time, you know I used to work for the church. I was a youth director for 9-10 years. Drinking aside, the church has a powerful way of killing any sort of faith you have. How I managed to stay that long, I will never know. But Easter dies hard in my memory. I despised Easter. It's this happy, healthy, "Jesus saves" holiday all wrapped up in bunnies and eggs; chocolate and ham, right? But to a church worker who has already survived Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Vigil services, Easter is kind of the last straw.

Every youth group does the Easter Breakfast. No other church group would deign to do the work for so little money, but the church demands Easter Breakfast. Try telling the church council your youth group is taking a break this year and watch the shouting and inventory taking start, right? No one in their right mind would do it, besides the deranged youth director who is desperately trying to figure out how everyone can go to camp this summer. Never mind that the kids' parents just assume they don't have to pay a thing to send their children to church camp, but whatever. I've previously blogged about my pure hatred for Egg Bake, but I'm going to write about it again, because a good resentment is one that just keeps giving, right

Want the recipe for Egg Bake? A dozen eggs, 2 cups of shredded cheese, 12 slices of bread torn into pieces, 2 cups of milk and 1-2 cups of cooked, diced ham (depending on your relationship with the local packing plant.) Place the bread in the bottom of a greased pan, layer the ham and cheese, whisk the eggs with the milk, pour over it and chill overnight. Cook at 350 degrees until it no longer jiggles. Feel free to add frozen cubed hashbrowns, mushrooms, green peppers or onion if you're interested in freaking out the picky little kids that come to Easter Breakfast who then have to wait until you produce one that's vegetable free. I could make it in my sleep. And often did. 2 a.m. in the church kitchen, trying to make the yes, Goddamn ovens heat evenly.

I hated Easter. Because after 5 worship services I never attended, the sweaty derangement of standing in front of hot ovens for 6 hours and managing not one or two, but at least three teenage boyfriend/girlfriend meltdowns - usually involving someone who waited until the early morning of Easter Sunday to tell me they were pregnant and couldn't take the guilt anymore (Happy Easter, mom and dad!) I wanted nothing to do with this holiday. Then add in my family, who were patiently waiting for me to drive 3 hours after church to eat dinner with them, I was a wreck.

So color me jaded or whatever you want to call it, but I hate Easter. I had plans today. Plans to enjoy the day. Make it feel like a holiday without the church, but my plans cancelled on me early this morning and I don't know if I was angry or sad (I still confuse the two, you're a regular reader, right?) but I felt let down by my friends. I felt alone and lonely in a way I hadn't felt in a long time. But it was sunny and I spent the day in the backyard. I got the first sunburn of the season and well? If I got sun on Easter, then I think I should say I'm blessed.

Sassy in the Snow

2011-04-18T08:53:00.005-05:00

Hello!!! Hellloooooo, Internet! First off, it's Monday. And it's snowing and raining and it's supposed to do that nonsense all week. BUT, I have chosen to embrace it because April showers will make my garden happy, and bad weather aside, it's sandal season. I care not about my cold toes. My toenails are red and sassy and that should tell The Universe to bring me some sunshine.

Second, I did NOT go see the baby this weekend. All day on Friday, I fretted and worried and was miserably sick to my stomach over it. It started snowing and then it rained and then it was pelting ice chunks at my window. I perused doppler radar and checked all kinds of internet weather predictors and well? It wasn't THAT BAD, right? I felt horrible that I was even trying to get out of it. But in the end I just decided, no. No. And no matter how sad that made me, the relief was palpable. But get this? There was A HORRIBLE PEOPLE DIED ACCIDENT on the interstate RIGHT AT THE TIME I WOULD HAVE BEEN THERE that night. Um, hello Universe? Thank you. Thank you for making me sick to my stomach over the weather.

Third, I have no idea what switch went on in my brain again, but I'm back on track. Goofy and sassy as ever.

Fourth, I have taken up the word sassy. I think it suits me. Weird. I never felt sassy before in my life. Sassy. Sassy. Sassy.

Therapy Tuesday

2011-04-12T21:29:00.002-05:00

Oh dear Internet, how I miss thee...

I love my new job. I am ON from the minute I step in there until the moment I get home. Add in going to meetings, meeting with women I'm working with, trying desperately to do laundry, pay bills and pet the cats, my life is busy. And I'm mostly content. I find myself at a loss sometimes on weekends when it gets quiet, but then I remind myself to enjoy it.

Also, I signed up for a class that will help me get my licensure. (Why does that word look wrong?) That's kind of exciting, right? Except it is a week long class in ethics. Two people have told me that they really enjoyed it, but ethics? Sounds really dry to me. I am hoping to be amazed. I only need three classes to test for my license and this is the first one. How about a round of applause for New Life?

Things with Carolyn are going well. I'm really glad I went back. We are discussing my latent anger. I don't think of myself as an angry person. Ever. I've been told that I am a seething ball of rage, I just don't know it yet. I have flashes of intense rage at times, but I'm super good at just pushing them down into that black hole I call denial. You know how I always joke about stabbing myself in the neck with a fork? Well, I got called on the carpet this morning. Because I like violence. I like the UFC fights and if there's not enough blood, I'm very disappointed. I like hockey, but if there's no checking, fights or brawls, I am disgusted. On more occasions than I'd like to admit, I want to pull people's hair and scratch their faces. Repressed anger? What are you talking about?

I don't know anger. I don't know how to identify it. I don't know how to do it. I don't feel safe when I feel angry. So I just cry. I feel helpless when I get angry. And helpless=crying. And I HATE IT. But how do you "do" angry and be okay? That, is the question that we are trying to answer for me these days. I'm afraid if I get angry, something terrible will happen. I used to be afraid if I started crying, I'd never stop. I'm over that. But now I'm afraid that if I allow myself to be angry, my whole world will collapse in a heap of disaster.

And that would be why I'm still in therapy after 10 years.

Happy Feet Friday

2011-04-07T21:51:00.000-05:00

Parts of my hair are pink. I'm not sure how I feel about this.

Post It Notes of Sanity

2011-04-04T09:39:00.006-05:00

It's getting better. I've made it through the roughest patch I think. Even with more fuel to the fire on Saturday night. It has come to my attention through the wiles of The Universe that I no longer need to define myself in certain ways. And it will take some rearrangements in the brain in order for me to re-define who I am. This is just another whole level of surrender in this process of recovery. Usually I fight it. I hold onto the familiar for dear life, as IF my life depended on it. But this time? It's clear what I need to let go.

I don't know how to do it. I have no idea how this will pan out for me. I have no clue what it means for my future sanity. But I daresay it is a step in a forward direction concerning this New Life of mine. And I'm not afraid. Isn't that interesting? I'm not afraid. I don't want to shout it yet. But I'm quietly announcing to myself and The Universe that whatever is coming is going to be okay. If not good.

And a lot of it has to do with the wisdom given me by Melissa Lion last week. And that wisdom was translated onto a sticky note that I stare at all day long. Because it's true. You WILL indeed, survive this next minute. Every minute.

Happy Feet Friday

2011-04-01T08:25:00.000-05:00

Is anyone else alarmed by the sheer amount of grey hair these days?

On The Road, Again

2011-03-29T20:47:00.002-05:00

I figured I owed you a post tonight to let you know I didn't fall in the hole. Thank you for all your kind words and encouragement. It really does mean a lot to me that you come here and read and then take the time to respond. It is a comfort to me. A real and tangible comfort I am grateful for.

Our session went much like I anticipated. Lots of crying, a fair amount of heaving sobs accompanied by severe shaking, and some really challenging statements. When she stopped handing me kleenexes and tossed over the whole box, I knew I was in for it. I kept telling her that my feelings were just to "big." I didn't know how else to describe it because that's the truth. It's like I have all this emotion and I'm afraid if I start feeling it, I might not be able to stop? I used to feel that way about crying. I never wanted to cry because I thought it might never end. And if you've constantly cried for over a month (I kid you not, I would wake up crying in treatment. How does that even happen?) this is a real fear, yanno? So, she shows me how to let it out in manageable amounts. And frankly, I'm not even sure what emotion it is right now. Anger? Fear? I guess we will figure that out.

I don't even have to look at the clock to know that my 50 minute hour is almost up. She changes the subject and starts asking me what actions I can take in the next week to manage well and then I panic because I haven't said everything I need to say and she reminds me that next week is soon enough and to take what we've shared in this moment and leave the rest for later. That was a seriously long sentence. I'm not allowed to journal per se, so no writing about the specifics. I'm one of those people that sink into my writing and then the emotions get bigger and more unmanageable and then it's all in black and white and staring me in the face. So no real writing. But talking. It's almost like I'm watching the words come out of my mouth and shatter in the air. That's the kind of freedom saying things out loud gives me.

So. My mind is racing less and I no longer have that constant low grade panic I wasn't even aware I was flirting with the last month or so. It didn't subside until about 5 p.m., but its a relief to have it just come in spurts and moments now.

And I'm going back next week. Because that's what I need to do.

The Edge

2011-03-28T20:09:00.003-05:00

So, you all have seen this coming, right? I saw it coming and I did my best to ward it off, run away from it, makeitgoaway, sort of thing. But I'm going back to see Carolyn tomorrow. It was a mutual decision between me and a handful of my closest friends. I asked for help, they all know how "off" I've been, and well? I have insurance and I can go back whenever I need to, so why not, right? But I feel like a failure. I know that's a lie, okay? I know this. I won't argue with you over it. But that's how I feel. You don't get to argue feelings.

This new job causes a very new kind of stress for me. Don't get me wrong, I love my job. I'm actually quite good at it and I have the voice and perseverance to be effective. But it's wearing me out in a way I don't recognize. Going to yoga was the first step in figuring out how to take care of myself in this new venture. But going to therapy again? I don't want to, but I know I have to. And the most important thing for me is to stay on track. And I don't feel on track. I feel blindsided by...something? I don't know what that something is, but it's all piling up and I can't sort through it by myself. Look at my March.

My car got sideswiped and even though it's just a car, the hassle set me on edge. Cowgirl is getting a divorce and I freaked out because the farm is no longer hers and my safe place is gone. Plus, I have this irrational fear that I won't get to see the kids anymore. Irrational is the key point there. One of my very first clients has bad cancer. I had coffee with someone who looks just like The Dead Guy on Saturday morning, only with grey hair. I almost puked when I realized it. And a myriad of other things that I can't talk about. It's too much. It's way too much. And I am on the edge of insanity right now. I don't LIKE being on the edge. Or the ledge. Or whatever you want to call it.

I'm not well.

Hence, Carolyn.

And I'm trying my very, very hardest not to feel like a failure because I need her. And that's okay, right? I figure anything that keeps me from falling in the hole is worth every moment, every penny and every strength of will that I have.

Because today? I want to make it. For however long I was content to give up, today I am not willing. I am not.

Happy Feet Friday, Late

2011-03-20T19:05:00.002-05:00

So, I did a little retail therapy on Saturday. Clearance. It pays to have size 11 feet sometimes. I wore them to the Symphony with my new fur (fake, what do you take me for?) vest and skinny jeans. I was sexy. I didn't take a picture.

Last week was hard, Internet. Hard. Just get through it hard. And I'm still not sure I've recovered. I thought maybe I should go back to Carolyn. (And that thought remains. There is no shame in asking for help.) I thought maybe I should just hole up and wait for it to pass. I thought maybe that drinking might help. I did. I really did. Many, many tearful phone calls. Many sleepless nights. Many days spent sick to my stomach, wondering if the stress might make me lose weight. (Sick, right?) But I woke up this morning and thought, "The Universe will take care of it." Novel thought, huh? The thought that's gotten me through so much. So, so much. And I forgot it in the moment that I needed it the most.

I forget. I forget sometimes how The Universe has taken care of me over the years. How blessed I am that I'm still here. And these so-called problems? Are no problem at all, frankly. They momentarily took hold and wanted to destroy me. But they didn't win. The battle is not over, by any means. But The Universe reminded me this morning, of who I am. And who I am supposed to be. And that means letting go of things I can't control.

In other news, it's Spring. Officially Spring. That means something good is coming, right? Of course right.

Peace

2011-03-16T20:36:00.001-05:00

I sat in the garden today. That is all.

Ides of March

2011-03-15T10:11:00.003-05:00

Things are kind of in upheaval in New Life Land. People are changing. Situations are changing. I think I'm changing. And I'm experiencing some extreme grief over a few things. I recognize this as healthy for me, but walking through it has been tough. I can't share it with the people I normally share things with because they are involved, and their own changes and grief take precedence as I attempt to be there for them. There have been lots of tears on my part. And I feel worn out from it all. And selfish too. It's not even MY change. It's someone else's life change that affects me a little and them a lot. So I feel selfish for even feeling this way. And I'm trying to make peace with that.

This morning after yoga class, the instructor was talking about Spring being a "heavy" season. She said that we normally think of people being happier and more active as we come out of our winter lairs. But as she explained, it's more normal to feel a heaviness in our hearts and bodies during the early Spring months when the rain and melting snow bog things down. And I started crying. Because that's exactly how I feel. Heavy and burdened. But I also feel relieved. Or like I was given permission to be heavy right now. Apparently, I was supposed to be at that yoga class this morning. I haven't gone to yoga for years. And I show up to hear that? Not an accident.

I powered through the dark days of February. Never once feeling an impending meltdown. But the Ides of March have hit me this year. So I'm going to keep going back to yoga. Because it felt good. And I'm going to keep not watching the news. Because I can't go there. The tragedy overwhelms me and then I get that horrifying helpless feeling which I don't have the tools to combat. And I'm going to eat strawberries. Because for some odd reason, my body is craving strawberries. And I'm going to keep crying. Because somewhere in those tears is some sort of healing.

Soup and Sheets

2011-03-10T08:28:00.005-06:00

This is the vast wasteland that is my street on those blustery cold days. I THINK spring is coming, because I've been hearing spring birds. But when the wind whips into me, I kind of lose hope.

I'm trying to stay warm, people. Just another month or two, right? It's in the 20s and 30s, which is a far cry from 40 below, but I've had enough. I have survived the worst of it, but my reserves are almost depleted.

I've been experimenting with adding more fruits and vegetables to my diet. The green smoothies were a start. I liked the raw cauliflower chowder the first day, but after that? Not so much. But this "raw" tortilla soup adapted from Choosing Raw is a keeper. I put raw in quotations for a reason. There's nothing more soothing to your frozen toes and fingers than a spicy warm soup in the evenings. It's not raw because I heated it up. But it's raw-er than anything I usually eat, so I'm going to call that a start.

4 roma tomatoes

1 orange bell pepper

1/4 c. sun dried tomatoes

sprinkle of dried cilantro

1 stalk of celery

3/4 c. water

splash of lime juice

2 T. olive oil

3/4 t. cumin

1/2 t. chili powder

1/4 t. paprika

1 clove garlic

Chop the vegetables and remove the seeds and pith from the pepper, then whirl it all in the blender. Viola. Soup. And if you're like me, you store it in the refrigerator and heat it up one cup at a time. I found that it really needed salt and pepper. But to each their own. I'm a salt fiend. Also, it was a little acidic for my poor tummy. Any suggestions on how to fix that?

And, my lovely mama brought me new flannel sheets. I love them. They are so colorful! I use flannel sheets all year long. I think it comes from having so many blankets on in the winter. I can't sleep in the summer with just a sheet. I need WEIGHT to keep me down or something. And flannel sheets are just that much heavier. But they're also cotton, so they breathe. These are my "spring" sheets. Pretty, huh?

In other news, I hate daylight savings time. It messes me up for weeks. So take that, winter. And time change. And cold. I've got soup and sheets to keep me happy.

Babies and Greenery

2011-03-06T20:37:00.003-06:00

I watched Munchkin Number 3 all day on Saturday. He was quite fussy and I couldn't figure out what was going on. He was taking a bottle and then would just stop and whine and then kind of choke. Of course, I'm not a mom, so I freaked out a bit. But turns out, he didn't want a bottle. He wanted something to CHEW on. So, I broke out the wooden spoons. He had a grand time chomping on them. Then he ate sweet potatoes, peaches, AND applesauce. Apparently he was hungry. New Life Mom and Dad were there that day, too. It was kind of weird to have them there when I had the baby, but oh well. Such is life, right? I'm sure it was hard for my mom to see me with a baby that's not mine. It's hard enough for me.

We did my taxes. (Blech. Not that I owe anything, but just DOING them makes me want to vomit. Numbers and crap.) And when the baby was sleeping, my dad went through my investment account statements (The ones I don't open because I can't handle it.) and my mom helped me fold and put away laundry. How horrible is that?

In other news, I have mastered the green monsters. At least for now. 1 cup of strawberries, two bananas and 6 romaine leaves with the white stems removed. Tastes awesome. I also made a raw cauliflower chowder. The whole raw thing is not something I intend to embrace full time, but it's been fun to read about it and experiment. I have enough chowder and green monster to last for two days. But sadly, that does not outdo the fact that I bought both a block of provolone and a block of swiss cheese. Did you know that milk products have opiate properties in them and that giving up cheese is akin to giving up morphine? And I've given up drinking, so whatever on the cheese, right?

Or maybe I've gone too far in my research. But whatever. At the moment, I am drinking green smoothies, eating raw cauliflower chowder and munching on berries and grapes. And if I need some cheese, then so be it. Right? Of course, right.

Happy Feet Friday

2011-03-04T09:08:00.003-06:00

Have you seen my fancy boots? They are so awesome. Already worn in. Already wearing out. And in case you can't tell, there are rainbow peacocks on them. I got them at an estate sale for twenty five smackers. Gay Boyfriend was seriously irritated that they fit me and not him. They are awesome. I think I've transitioned to South Dakota now. Maybe.

In other news, I'm reading books on eating more raw foods. Particularly this one. Now, I'm no food nazi. I like all kinds of foods and will continue to eat all kinds of food. But I would like to incorporate more simple and healthy foods and raw is the way to go for that, I think. I felt so much better last summer when I was basically eating out of my garden every day. How do you incorporate more of that in the winter months? You know me. I google and research and combine this and that and end up with my own recipes and lifestyles. I think I'm in the research and experimentation stage.

With that said, I'm here to tell you that this Green Monster thing? Not convinced. I whizzed up a bunch of kale with water and a banana this morning. And well? No. That's not going to work for me. I choked down about half of it before I gave up. That's still probably a whole cup's worth of greenery in my tummy. But, no. More experimentation and suggestions needed. Please leave links and comments if you have any suggestions.

New Life Mom and Dad are coming tomorrow. And I'm so excited!

Mea Culpa

2011-03-01T21:41:00.003-06:00

Oh my goodness, Internet! I have my laptop back from the laptop doctor. I was a horrible person and downloaded this program to watch free movies online. Do you know what that does to your computer? Malware. And Spyware. And "You're a complete idiot" from the computer doctor people. So don't do it, okay?

In other news, now that I have my laptop back, I can visit your blogs more frequently and that makes me super happy. I hated not seeing you and reading you and commenting with you. I felt like a little piece of my life was missing. And it was YOU! How awesome is that?

Also, chickpea and broccoli slaw recipe coming your way.

Car estimate is done and paid for. The Sebring is going in for repairs on Thursday.

I haven't run in over a month. (Confession.)

I am making pot roast for Boy Crush. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, right? I even copped to flirting with him through food. He did not respond. My expectations are low in that department, but at least I get to cook for hungry boys who chow down, right? Of course, right.

I've missed you, internet. So much missed you.

I Sat in a Police Car and I Went to Jail

2011-02-28T15:29:00.003-06:00

Soooooo...

Let's just start with the bad, shall we? My car got sideswiped overnight Friday night while parked on the street. I went out Saturday morning, hop, skipping and jumping down the driveway to go to coffee with my friends and gasped when I saw my mirror hanging from a wire. Then, as it sunk in, I noticed the deep scratches and dents all the way from the back bumper, through both driver's side doors and the front bumper. There were pieces of the other person's car literally STUCK underneath the back door. When the policeman tried to pull one piece out, he couldn't get it and asked me to open the door; at least 10 pieces of the other person's car just clattered to the ground. That's how hard it hit my car. Enter a few tears and Gay Boyfriend calling the non-emergency police line, a text to my friends that said, "I'll be there soon. Sitting in a police car." (Now, that part was funny, because I didn't tell them why. There was just a tad bit of humor left in me.) And that was my Saturday morning. Also, the policeman looked at me with pitying eyes and said, "You know, they were probably drunk." And I'm all, "No shit. Ya think?" I didn't really say that. But duh, right?

My first thought was, "There goes that money I finally put into my savings account." But lucky me, nine years of therapy and four years of recovery from drinking have helped me frame things much better these days, and I almost immediately was able to turn it around to, "At least I HAVE the money today." Which I didn't two weeks ago. Licketly split, Cowgirl called a friend who runs a body shop, a trip out to the middle of nowhere to see him, an estimate and a call to my insurance company, and I'm mostly set. I'm not even mad. I'm just irritated about the hassle of taking it in and driving a rental and picking it up and hoping it's fixed right the first time. Blahblahblah.

So there.

But here's the good. Which, for some people might not seem good, but it was good for me. See? In my current life, there are times when people I care very much about go to jail or prison. It's life. It's the nature of recovery. People have to make amends and restitution for harms done while under the influence, right? So, someone I care about very much went to jail on Wednesday and she has to stay for two weeks. She called me on Saturday night and asked me to visit her on Sunday. And well? If I was in the clink, I'd want someone to pony up and come see me too, right? So I convinced Cowgirl to come with me and we did. You wait in the waiting room (Where Cowgirl of course, made a lifelong friend. I kid you not. We were the only people in there laughing our heads off.) and then we got buzzed in and then they interrogate you about who you are and why you are seeing that particular person and they send your driver's license through a multi-state database to make sure you're not a serial killer or deliquent on parking tickets, and then you sit. And sit. And sit, while you wait for your person to be delivered to their tv screen up in the jail. You don't get to see them in person. You talk to them on a phone and not even through glass like you see on tv. It was over a monitor.

Not nice. But guess what? We made her laugh. I read some things out of our recovery book that she requested (because you can't have any books in jail except the Bible. I think that's wrong. What if you're not Christian?) and we talked and she forgot for just a few minutes that she was there. Also, Cowgirl is really good in situations like that. Lemons from lemonade. Laughter under duress. But we went. Because that's what people do for one another in this life. You hear me?

The Green Shoots

2011-02-22T12:07:00.003-06:00

Guess what? Asparagus is just now coming in to season. I didn't KNOW that! It looked so pretty at the market, so skinny and vibrant green. I thought it was much later in the season when it's good. Apparently, it starts now.

Also, I did my research, and you cannot plant asparagus in a pot. I know it has to grow for three years or so before you harvest, so I thought I'd just throw some in a pot and haul it along for my moves. Because who knows where I will be in three years? But that's no good, because asparagus grows horizontally under the ground.

I will not be growing asparagus at my house. Although, I do have a secret spot where I might throw some in the ground. Now how sneaky would THAT be?!

Happy Feet Friday

2011-02-18T14:13:00.003-06:00

It's been awhile since you've seen my toes, hasn't it? It's been warm enough to wear flip flops in the evening for slippers. SERIOUSLY. This doesn't happen in South Dakota in February. Also, sunshine. And a window in my office that gives back warming afternoon light. I think this has improved my outlook on winter in the Midwest. It's the middle of February and I don't feel like committing homicide. Or homo-cide like I wanted to last year with Gay Boyfriend. And I also don't want to stick a fork in my neck. This is great progress for me. AND, my hair is long enough to put into two little pigtails at night. Not to work yet, obviously. But look! Pigtails! Not a good picture from my phone, but whatever. I'm cute.

Also, ice storm and then 6 inches of snow on Sunday. I'm hoping to hold onto the happy sunshiny feeling I have today for at least another week to get me through.

Picture Most Important

2011-02-17T16:21:00.002-06:00

I didn't tell you about Powell's Bookstore in Portland. In fact, I don't think it should be called a bookstore. It's not. It's like this monstrous mansion that holds knowledge and poetry and laughs and tears. It is floors and floors and split levels of shelves filled with words on pages. It requires a map, it's so big. And I thought I should just "browse." Which - yanno. Wander around, touching this one and that one, occasionally pulling one off the shelf because the title sounds interesting. But I was going to get swallowed whole if I did that. I tried to for awhile, but I was just so overwhelmed. I wandered the fiction aisles for a little while, realizing the lunacy that would be trying to take it all in, and found myself going to the fifth floor, where they keep the crazy books. You know the kind I'm talking about. The ones where you diagnose yourself as schizophrenic or OCD or something. My chair at Barnes and Noble is in this area. I call it home base.

I devoured the addictions section, soaked up the psychiatry section and kept wandering. And that's when I found it. IT. The medical section. In which there were at least five mile-long shelves of books about The Black Plague. THE PLAGUE. BOOKS. Books I'd never heard of! Books I'd never seen! Books I had yet to touch! I pulled every single one off the shelf. I just had to! I did. The Plague, Internet! And that's where Melissa Lion found me. Crouching in The Plague section, holding books, trying to figure out which one(s) I just had to have. And that's when she snapped the picture that I will keep for posterity just to prove to myself that there are other people out there in The Universe that think The Plague is just as oozy and disgustingly interesting as I do.

Now, I am on a two book limit at Barnes and Noble. I hardly ever go there because it's just too hard. But when I do go, I end up with an armful of books and then head back to home base to sort through them because I can only purchase two. That's the rules. But I figured since Powell's is like a hundred times bigger than my Barnes and Noble that meant 2 times 100, which is 200. And that's too many. So, I settled for a three book limit. That seemed reasonable at the time, but having to put so many Plague books back? Broke my heart just a little bit.

Portland? I Love You

2011-02-15T14:10:00.014-06:00

Oh Portland! I will tell you about the hotel and the conference later, but here's the quick and dirty. We ate at Blueplate on Friday for lunch. It was on the Food Network, so of course I had to go. The Food Network is the only TV I watch, right?
Traveling Companion and I wandered around in Portland on Friday afternoon, after the conference. Look what we found! Hung Far Low! We just didn't realize that at the time, we had walked through a not so nice area of town. At one point, I turned to Traveling Companion and said, "I think maybe we should walk a little farther inland, no?" Apparently, we were under the bridge where all the drug deals take place. But the sad part was, when I saw this sign, I pointed and burst into quite a loud peal of laughter. This poor man, obviously homeless and not quite in his right mind, whipped around and started shouting, "Shush! Shh! Stop it! Stop it!" And he'd turn around after a couple more steps and say it again. He must have thought I was laughing at him and I felt horrible. Totally horrible. Can you imagine being possibly mentally ill and having someone from behind burst into laughter? Of COURSE he thought it was about him. Terrible. I felt terrible. But still. The sign.

There were flowers in Portland in Febrary. FLOWERS, INTERNET! FLOWERS! Like blooms and color and greenery and growth and WHAT? FEBRUARY?

We hooked up with Melissa Lion on Friday night. She came past the hotel after work and the minute she drove up, I started squealing and she stepped from the car and I hugged her with the biggest New Life hug that I had in me. She was lovely. She was everything I thought she would be. She was EXACTLY like I thought she would be. You know, this blogging thing - you can get caught up in how someone might be, based on what their blog is like, but she was so real. So, so real. And well? I am in love with her, so Fancyhats is going to have to watch out.

She took us to the Ace Hotel. It used to be an hourly deal, but now it's a fancy re-done place with hard wood and this lovely lounge.

Because, we LOUNGED on the big couch upstairs. (Lookit! We're both wearing boots!)

Some funky statue in the park. Elephants!

We tried to go to Voodoo Donuts. There was a long line. So we didn't actually HAVE a mysterious Voodoo Donut, because we had somewhere else to go...

H & M! This is Traveling Companion's and Melissa Lion's original Portland H & M experience.

We may not drink, but we can wear drink glasses.

Melissa and Fancyhats took us to a tiny little taco place on Saturday and this was across the street. It's a rebuilding store. Anything you can take out of a house, you can donate and they will resell it. It was huge! Almost four blocks long and three blocks wide. It was amazing. And here's the sculpture that makes up the front door. So beautiful and creative. A tree, made of building parts.

Saturday night, we went to a lovely little pizza place near Melissa's house. More about the food another day, but look at us. LOOK AT US! Look at the smiles and happy in February! I hardly ever smile in February. Thank you, Universe! Thank you for Portland. And for Melissa Lion and Fancyhats and Archie. And well? Thank you. I am still smiling.

Portland From My Phone

2011-02-09T22:20:00.000-06:00

I am laying in my very decadent queen sized bed watching The Food Network. I party hard, huh?

I was hoping for some much more interesting people watching today, but the closest I got was Grizzly Adams in Denver with his backback and sleeping bag as his carry on. He had the beard and everything.

Tomorrow? Conferencing and learning.

Snorting and Portland

2011-02-08T10:15:00.002-06:00

I leave for Portland tomorrow! Yeeeehawww! I will be sure to take lots of pictures and hug Melissa Lion for you. She told me layers. Clothing layers. But it's really hard to think about 50 degree weather when it's 20 below. Like, do I need wool socks or should I pack flip flops? It's so HARD, internet.

First world problems, I assure you.

Also, I woke myself up several times last night, and I think I was snoring. SNORING! I DO NOT SNORE! I am a dainty flower who sleeps like a princess, right? I'm going to chalk it up to the Very Bad Cold I am just now getting over and pretend it didn't happen.

Deep Breath

2011-02-03T12:22:00.002-06:00

....and then let it out. It hasn't been a stressful week per se, but this actually having to WORK at my JOB is so very different for me. Add to that, the fact that I've pretty much decided not to fix my laptap for the second time, instead investing in another one, I haven't been living my online life the way I would like to. I didn't know how much satisfaction and enjoyment I got out of reading blogs until I couldn't do it. So, there you go. When I have a laptop at home again, be rest assured, I will come back to you. I miss you!

Boy Crush and his roommate inhaled almost a whole pan of enchiladas in about 15 minutes last night. I'd call that a success. I asked if they were saving any to take for lunch the next day and they laughed and said, "We'll probably finish it off after you leave." So, the agreement is - if they bring me back a CLEAN pan, I will fill it with something else and return it. Boy Crush's roommate immediately said, "Cookies?" Hahaha. It gives me great pleasure to cook for hungry men. Great.

In other news, while I'm off in la la land, happily busy at my new job, things are not all bunnies and butterflies in the lives of my compadres. And it pains me to see any of the people I love so dearly, hurting. This weekend will be all about reconnecting and snuggling in front of the fireplace, sharing our secrets and letting that sharing heal our hearts.

Also, running. There will be running this weekend. That 5 miler is coming up in no time!

Absent

2011-02-01T15:07:00.002-06:00

Okay, internet. I LOVE MY NEW JOB! Love it. But that means I have much less mindless time to sit in front of all your awesome blogs. And I miss you. Believe me, I do. And I would spend countless hours at home in the evenings reading them IF MY STUPID LAPTAP HADN'T CROAKED AGAIN.

Obviously, this is a problem for me. I am addicted to the Internet. I couldn't even find out what the windchill was this morning, (because yanno, the whole no tv or paper or radio thing) even though it was obvious it was so cold you don't want to think about it (-40 degrees and falling.) Not having the Internet is a health risk. I think it should be a human right at this point. Liberals, do you hear me? Everyone is entitled to free laptops and Internet service. At least in the Midwest. Right?

No?

Sigh.

Anywhoodles. I miss all of you, but I can't even tell you how excited I am to be using my brain and writing treatment plans and in general, helping people all the while I am learning so much myself. It's crazy how much I love it.

Also. I guess I should tell you I'm flirting with Boy Crush, since he decided to stay here in Sioux Falls. And I'm taking him enchiladas for dinner tomorrow, recipe courtesy of Helen. Go me, right?

Weekend Highlight

2011-01-31T09:05:00.001-06:00

Also, eight inches of snow coming down and forty below winds tomorrow night. Yeah Winter!

Good Things Happening!

2011-01-26T21:13:00.002-06:00

INTERNET! My new job is sending me to Portland, Oregon for a conference! Free! PORTLAND! DO YOU HEAR ME?! I get to travel for my job. And I get to meet Melissa Lion! OMG OMG OMG!

What do Portlanders wear? Should I stop washing my hair like Melissa? Do I need to lose weight? Are scarves and rainbow glasses acceptable? I'm from the Midwest, people. MIDWEST. I do not know these things.

I'm so excited! I'm so excited! I squealed and everything when I got the confirmation email. PORTLAND, Internet! PORTLAND!

Holy Awesome

2011-01-24T20:58:00.001-06:00

You have to watch this.

Monday Movie Review

2011-01-24T09:36:00.003-06:00

I did NOT have a relaxing weekend. I did a lot of fun stuff, but relaxing? No. Both Cowgirl and I have been working nonstop the past two weeks and she hadn't spent much time with her girls and I hadn't seen Munchkin Number 3 for EVER, so she cooked up a plan for Sunday afternoon. It went like this. "Dirty Ben and I are going to take the little girls to a kid movie. Teenage Angst wants to see Black Swan. Can you take her to that? Munchkin Number 3 is going to stay with Lovely Lisa and then we'll all meet back at her house and she's going to cook us dinner." Followed by, "I haven't asked her yet." Hahahah. And that's how it went down. She made enchiladas. I ate too many.

Black Swan? I have not yet formed an opinion. If you haven't been reading long, you don't know that the last movie I saw in the theater was "I Am Legend" like over 2 years ago. And I had nightmares for MONTHS. Dead people? Fine. Ghosts? Fine. Violence? Blood? Sex? Fine. Fine. And fine. But no zombies. I just can't do zombies. But this blog post isn't about zombies.

Black Swan. Weird. Dark. Stark, in fact. Mind bending. I gasped a couple of times. I get the whole premise of it, blah blah blah, but overall, I was not horribly impressed. It was very slow in the beginning. I think there were elements of the story that didn't really need to be emphasized as much as they were, which contributed to the slowness. And then BAM! The ending was happening and it's all coming together and bam! Bam! Bam! I get it already. And then it was done. Teenage Angst had announced before we went in that her friends told her not to get high before she watched it. And I'm like, "Well. Duh. Don't get high anyway." And as we were walking out, I said, "I feel messed up enough. Getting high would have REALLY screwed up the storyline for me." She laughed.

So, as I'm telling you that I was not particularly impressed with the movie, I still can't stop thinking about it and I want to see it again now that I know what happens in the end. You know that kind of movie? So, as soon as it comes out on DVD, I will be renting it. That's how they pull you in. They make you want to watch it again. Double money maker.

Don't you think I should write professional movie reviews? Seriously. Who wants to know about screen shots and camera angles? You want the layperson's view, right?

A Challenge

2011-01-19T22:27:00.001-06:00

I did it! I signed up for the St. Patty's Day 5 Miler!

So there. I'm committed. Come February 1st when I'm only working one job, I'm going to hit it, hard. Barring injury, I'm going to run 5 miles in a row. My goal for my first 5K was simply to finish with a smile on my face, which I accomplished. Tears after the smile? Guaranteed. This race? The same goal.

Always. With a smile.

Acceptance

2011-01-18T21:46:00.004-06:00

Oh dear God, how I miss him tonight.

I don't know if it's because I'm finally exposed to people like him on a daily basis, or if it has just been coming. I weathered the five year anniversary of his death quite well. I've made my peace with it. I've accepted it and it's become a working part of my life that I'm okay in spite of the loss of my partner. But holy. Tonight I miss him.

If only because I have come across people who would have completely benefited from his point of view. From his philosophy; from his experience. He was a force to be reckoned with when he was sober. There was a life in him that I could not understand, but embraced nonetheless.

I just see these men. These ones that are headstrong and unwilling. The ones that believe they can do it on their own. And I feel for them. I do. Because I loved one just the same. The one that thought if he could *just hold it together long enough* then he'd have it licked.

He never did hold it together long enough. But his zest for understanding. His thoughts. His tenacity - it's what kept him alive as long as it did, I suppose.

But tonight? I wish he was here. Because he could give me insight on how awful it is to do it oneself. How jaded he was with recovery. Why he finally gave up trying. Because I think it could help me help them. And I'm sorry he's not here to ask. So very sorry. And so very sad. He would have made an excellent counselor for recovering people, if he could have just gotten there himself.

I miss him.

And everything he stood for. I'm pretty sure he'd take the ones that were die hard and give them some peace. But nothing doing. He didn't make it.

I Need Some Detectives

2011-01-18T09:05:00.006-06:00

My blog is suffering from my new job, I think. I'm not nearly as interesting as I used to be, huh? Oh well. I guess I'm using my creative energies for my position instead, and that's a good, good thing. Today is the beginning of my three long days and I didn't sleep well last night at all. I was not pleased. You know, how when you wake up at 2 a.m. and roll over and think, "Fall back asleep. Fall back asleep. You've got four more hours." And then you roll over again and it's 2:45 a.m. and you say, "What? I have a long day tomorrow. This can't be happening." Then you punch at your pillow and fluff it up and try again. Gah. Was not good.

It's five degrees here. And it's supposed to get to minus nine overnight. And that's not counting the wicked wind. Melissa Lion thinks this should not happen in a first world country, but I'm here to tell you, it's pretty normal for this time of year. Sadly, I picked the wrong day to brave wearing a skirt. This not watching tv or listening to the radio thing kind of has it's consequences sometimes. Which includes not knowing that tights aren't going to hack it on a day like today. Even indoors. Oh well. I've braved worse, right? That's why I'm a Solid Midwestern Girl.

In other news? I have a client that is desperate to learn how to read and write. He is in his 40s and just kept getting passed along in school and was, frankly encouraged to drop out in 8th grade, and now? He can't read. He cares for his little niece and says that he would do anything to be able to read a book to her at night. Which kind of pulls at my heartstrings and makes me want to bust out the alphabet right then and there, but I can't. So. I was on the phone for HOURS the other day, trying to find community resources for adult learning. And I'm sad to say, that I HAVEN'T FOUND ONE YET! And it's killing me. WHAT?! Someone wants to learn to read and write and there are no resources? That's criminal, if you ask me. Plus, the ESL classes? He's not eligible because he's not an immigrant. And it's funded strictly for immigrants. He is not yet old enough to take advantage of the "Seniors returning to work" programs around here and the guy they sent him to through the Literacy Council was drunk every time they met. Nice. So, if you've got some suggestions, I'd love them. I've called all the colleges, the local school district, the libraries, vocational rehab, various and sundry agencies, and I'm pretty much out of ideas. My mother suggested a retired teacher's association and someone else suggested something called RSVP. Retired Seniors Volunteer Program, whom I will be calling today. I'm asking for help, internet. Help me.

Exhilarating or Exhausting. One Or The Other

2011-01-17T08:37:00.003-06:00

My relaxing Sunday went like this:

Meeting

Lunch

Grocery Shopping

Meeting

Sledding Party

Making Lunch

Finishing My Bread

Not relaxing.

In regards to the sledding? Party's over when someone pukes on you.

The Good and The Bad

2011-01-15T23:41:00.003-06:00

The good news is: I still don't hate him.

The bad news is: I think he's a Republican.

The good news is: I laughed a lot.

The bad news is: He told a lot of bad jokes and is fairly homophobic.

The good news is: He seems like a really, really nice man.

The bad news is: He has his children the next two weekends and then has a trip planned the following weekend. That's like a month.

The good news is: I had a good time.

And that's good enough news.

In other news, there is NO WAY I should be driving at night while wearing my contacts. Also? I cannot read or use the computer with them in. I guess they are only for running.

Hot Date

2011-01-15T19:15:00.002-06:00

All ready for my date with The Farmer. Nervous. Of course.

Happy Feet Friday

2011-01-14T09:11:00.002-06:00

I made it through my first week of work at my new job and I am LOVING it! I have the feeling it's only going to get better and better as time goes by. I was telling New Life Mom last night that I can't remember the last time I was this excited about my employment. I think the job I enjoyed this much in the past was in North Carolina - seven years ago. Doing the same kind of work, only with little children. Obviously, this is a good fit for me. I'm so grateful. So, so grateful.

The only negative so far is that because I'm working both jobs at the moment, I'm not able to get to the gym for three days in a row. Even if I did manage to get up early to go some morning, the 12 hour days are long enough. So - two more weeks of that, and then I'll be able to seriously start training for my 5 miler in March. None too soon, right?! I'm going to have to push it for that six weeks if I'm going to feel confident for that race. But I'm up for it! At least that's what I tell myself, right?

So internet? Carry on. Because if all these awesome things can happen to me, it just proves that The Universe has good ideas for all of us sometimes.

Trivial

2011-01-13T08:33:00.001-06:00

Palindromes until the 20th.

That is all.

The Pioneer Spirit

2011-01-12T09:01:00.000-06:00

I got to observe two groups yesterday AND I got to help write group notes. So exciting! I know, that probably doesn't excite all of you very much, but it's like superwow to me. I think this is going to be a very good fit for me. Yeah for jobs that you love! In the meantime though, I'm still working three mornings a week for the Good Doctor. I work there from 8:30 - 11:30 and then I go to my new job from 12:00 - 8:30 p.m. Those are some seriously long days for me. I know it's just for three weeks, and I can certainly use the money, but it's only Wednesday and I'm already exhausted. Good thing the excitement of the new job is so strong. Keeps me going in the evenings.

In other news, it's 20 below today. I tried googling how the pioneers stayed warm in the winters, but I haven't found a good article full of death and pestilence for you yet. I'm still looking for the perfect one. I'm thinking they probably slept with the cows. Because cows are big and warm, right? I know I read about one settler that killed a cow, gutted it and then crawled inside the carcass to stay alive during a blizzard, but I'm talking about day to day tactics for staying warm. What did they DO? And then, the whole conversation about why the hell they stayed here enters my mind. So here's how that goes. They come here and live through a terrible winter, and then say to themselves, screw this, we're going south, so they pull up stakes as soon as spring comes and head to Texas and they get there right about July or August, when the heat is mind-numbing and soul crushing. That's about the time I'd probably take a shotgun to my family. I always thought I'd make a good pioneer, but in retrospect, I'm kind of a pansy.

Therapy Tuesday

2011-01-11T08:52:00.001-06:00

Internet? It's going to be great. My new job, that is. I spent most of yesterday reading policy and procedure manuals. The agency has to make me do that in order to complete an orientation for their documentation for accreditation, but it was interesting nonetheless. I love the vibe of that place. I was nervous all morning until I stepped in the door and then BAM! Instantly felt at home. I have my own office and my own desk and my own couches and comfy chairs to sit and listen to people in. And well? It's all very exciting. And the first time I signed my name with the letters behind it? HOLY BEAMING FROM MY FACE! I don't quite know what they will be doing with me today, but like I told my co-worker, "They've trained a lot of counselors in this agency. They obviously know what they're doing." New Life, indeed! The hardest task yesterday was writing my own blurb "introduction" thing for the website. I passed on stating that I have an obsession with the Plague. I said I loved gardening instead.

In other news, I saw Carolyn for the last time this morning. Not that I can't ever see her again, but I'm no longer "in therapy." Can you believe it? Internet! Can you believe it?! That's crazy talk! But I know I'm ready and I know that I know how to manage life today. And I didn't even cry. That's how ready I was to be done.

Also, Minnesota Farmer asked me out. We met online, we talked once on the phone and it was several hours worth of laughter. So, I'm going to call this a good thing and go have fun. I have no idea when yet, but at least he asked. Right?

All Things New

2011-01-10T07:40:00.002-06:00

I start my new job today. TODAY! I hardly slept last night and even though this job starts an hour later than my previous job, I got up extra early because I just couldn't lay in bed any longer. I texted Cowgirl last night and said, "I'm getting nervous." And she said, "It could be excitement and anticipation. That feels the same as nervous, you know." Which - yes. They do. Of all the things I've worked on and conquered, I still have trouble naming emotions for what they really are. Like how I cry when I'm angry and think that I'm sad, but really, I'm just pissed as hell and can't find a way to express it.

So, I'm going to call it anticipation.

Now please excuse me while I go shower and convince myself that I really am capable of taking this next big step in my life.

Juvie

2011-01-08T23:09:00.002-06:00

*Please note the purple plastic princess shoes that she insisted on wearing out in the snow.

While out to eat:

Munchkin Number 2: Mom. There's a cop over there.

Cowgirl: I know. They have to eat too, it's okay that they are here. (Thinking, WHY? WHY does my child already have the whole "Cops are bad" attitude?!)

Munchkin Number 2: There's ANOTHER cop! (Pointing)

Cowgirl: You know, I think they prefer being called Police Officers.

Munchkin Number 2: *Shrugs*

In the car on the way home:

Munchkin Number 2: Mom? What kind of food do they serve in jail?

Cowgirl: I guess whatever they make that day. (Wondering where the hell this conversation is going...)

Munchkin Number 2: I'm going to ask Teenage Angst.

Cowgirl: Teenage Angst has never been to jail.

Munchkin Number 2: Well, she's been ARRESTED!

...

Munchkin Number 2: Mom? I'm too young to go to juvie right?

Cowgirl: (OMG. DON'T LAUGH. DON'T LAUGH.) Well, probably. It's for older kids who get in trouble.

Munchkin Number 2: Well then. I don't have worry about the LAW.

Cowgirl: Put your seatbelt on.

MWhahahahaha.

Happy Feet Friday

2011-01-07T08:51:00.000-06:00

I've been going to the gym for about a year now. I joined last February, took about two weeks to screw up the courage to go in there, and started run/walking in March. I had the whole Couch to 5K thing, but after weeks of trying, I just couldn't get past running four minutes at a time. Which - at the time - seem insurmountable. I mean, when I first started, 30 seconds of running was all I could manage. Come June, Cricket told me about this running club whose goal was to run a 5K in September and I joined! So, we spent the summer months blissfully (hahaha! Humid! Hot! Hard!) running outdoors, working up to running 30 minutes at a time. We did the 5K, kept running, did another 5K in October and last November, I finished my 3rd 5K with my best time yet. Well. Cue a whole month of not running, and I found myself back at the gym. The ice is just too scary for me to consider. Plus, I like the gym. I like the safety of the treadmill. The idea that I can stop whenever I want and not have to hobble home if something goes wrong. The whole hardware in my leg and ankle thing is and will always be an issue.

But seriously people, clue me in. I am not a gym rat by any means. I don't spend hours and hours there, flexing and lifting and running and biking and doing planks in the corner. I do my business and leave. But isn't there something called "gym etiquette?" Is there? And I'm not talking about the whole walking around nude in the dressing room thing. I'm all whatever about that. I'm talking about odors. I realize that people sweat and possibly smell when they work out. I sweat profusely. Disgustingly so. But I don't smell. And I'm okay with a bit of work-out BO. It happens, right? I'm not talking about that either.

I wasn't really in the mood to run last night, but I know that if I want to do the 5 miler in March, I have to step it up - so to say. So there I was. Running 6 minutes, walking 3 minutes - the goal of which was to get to 3 miles. It wasn't so bad. I can talk myself into finishing those 6 minutes pretty easily. But right about 2.5 miles, someone stepped on the treadmill beside me. I've noticed that there is some sort of rule there. People kind of go every other one unless they're friends and gabbing it up. But the whole "OMG! It's the New Year! I must exercise!" crowd is there. I know it will thin out come February, but for now, it's not uncommon for people who don't know one another to be forced into a kind of intimacy they don't really desire. I just focus on looking straight ahead and try to ignore it, right? Well, I'm first assaulted by the odor of "unwashed down below." Not nice. Wash your PARTS, people. But fine. I'm almost done, right? And then? She passed some serious gas. SERIOUS. Gagalish stank. OMG! Fine. It will go away and I'll just finish up. People toot. That's life. BUT SHE KEPT DOING IT. Over and over. As soon as the first one would clear and I'd think, "Thank God. Just a half mile left!" and she'd let ANOTHER ONE rip. Seriously, people. Seriously! Really? At 2.8 miles, I hit the cool down button. Done. Done. And done. Workout ruined by the stink.

Look At My Toes!

2011-01-05T07:49:00.003-06:00

I went running last night! Whoot Whoot! And I wore my toe socks that New Life Mom and Dad so lovingly picked out for me for a birthday gift. They are awesome! What's also awesome is that not all is lost in my short running career. I did: Walk 3, Run 9, Walk 3, Run 6, Walk 3, Run 6, Walk 3, Run 6. And then I walked to finish it off. I felt like a gazillion bucks! Whatever a gazillion bucks is. But get this. I didn't have my iPod with me! I treated myself to a new CD - Far East Movement. You know - the G6 song? Yeah. That one. And on Monday night, I was loading it into my iPod and forgot to put it in my gym bag. So I only had my head phones. Suck. I seriously considered leaving. I'm not kidding. I love my music. But you can hook your ears into the tv stations and I ran to Seinfeld. Not so bad, really. But music is much better in my opinion.

And I did it in my NEW RUNNING SHOES! You know, how when I started running and everyone was all, "You need to get some decent shoes!" And I was all, "Um. I have no money." Well? I saved. And then I shopped clearance. And I am very, very happy with my Nike Lunar Trainers. Of course, they are already discontinued, but I do what I can do, right? So, meet Rocky and Stella. Right and Left.

Accomplishment

2011-01-04T08:49:00.001-06:00

I'm going to go drop off my application for my counseling license today. I WILL HAVE LETTERS BEHIND MY NAME BY NEXT WEEK!

Sorry for shouting, but that's a big deal. Like a huge deal to me. Holy.

38 and Counting

2011-01-02T17:44:00.009-06:00

I've said it before. Everything I learn all year long, I put into practice in a two week time frame. Every coping skill, every distraction technique, every calming method, every hot shower and cup of tea. Christmas, my sober birthday, the anniversary of Jason's death, New Year's and then my birthday-birthday, just come all too fast and furious. I had a wonderful Christmas, I weathered my sober birthday and strangely, made some serious peace with Jason's death this year. I was pleasantly surprised by how everything was going. I don't PLAN to fall apart, but when I don't, it's like an extra bonus or something.

But last night, on the eve of my 38th birthday, it happened. After all that success in handling holidays and anniversaries and such, I was not really expecting the epic meltdown that 1/1/2011 brought me. By 6 p.m., I was frantically texting Dirty Ben and Cowgirl and then sobbing to Chakra Queen. All this, after facebooking with Crissy, too. It just wasn't going to stop without a good meltdown. Sigh.

It was about the baby thing. I thought I had finished that conversation with myself. I really did. Put it to rest and leave it up to The Universe to provide. If it's going to happen, it's going to happen, right? But last night? I seriously started thinking about what it might mean to have a baby on my own, and then the crying started in earnest. Could I? Would I? Should I? Is it selfish? Is it presumptuous to think that the world needs to be subjected to my extended gene pool? Is taking things into my own hands, taking away from the plans of The Universe? I DON'T KNOW! I was bereft. Beside myself with sorrow. Dirty Ben suggested that I wait for a year and if I feel the same way, then go for it, right? Cowgirl just listened. Chakra Queen said, "You said you wanted to have a baby before you're 40. That's TWO WHOLE YEARS AWAY!"Crissy said that if I did do it, I would have all the help in the world. AND I WOULD. I WOULD! But I'm not ready to make that decision. And the eve of my 38th birthday was looming and making it seem like time was passing so quickly that if I didn't do anything about it this very instant, life would come to a screeching halt. I've calmed down today. It's not a *today* decision, but it's something to research and put in the hopper to think and talk to The Universe about. Sigh. I almost made it through the season.

Snow.
Sleepy Cats.
Being goofy on camera for my mom.
The "Family" portrait that the cats agreed (or disagreed) to subject themselves to.
Cupcakes and homemade strawberry ice cream by dad.
And last but not least? My car got broken into on NYE. Nothing missing, and no damage but a broken Lady Gaga CD. But I feel extremely violated by the whole thing. It's ick. And scary. And well? Gay Boyfriend makes fun of me for how fastidious I am about locking the door everytime I come in and he can go suck it, because that was scary!

Carrot/Clementine/Chocolate/Pear Muffins

2010-12-31T18:29:00.004-06:00

I got a juicer for Christmas! One of my friends thought I'd really enjoy it with all my garden produce and the like. And I was all, "Booyah!" But the Fertile Crescent is dormant at the moment. Under the snow.So yesterday before the blizzard came, I went to the food co-op and got some carrots. Most of the juicer recipes start with carrots and I figured that was a good place to begin experimenting. I drank 10 carrots and 3 clementines for lunch. But I was loathe to throw away the pulp. These are organic vegetables and fruits, right? Expensive. And they didn't make that much juice, so I immediately googled juice pulp recipes. Some people are not fond of using the pulp - stating that no matter how organic your produce is, you're still going to be eating pesticides and the like. I say, "Whatever. I've been eating chemicals and pesticides my whole life, not to mention trying to kill myself with alcohol." Once I found a recipe, I was all gung ho until I realized I was snowed in with no vegetable oil. And no way was I going to substitute a whole cup of olive oil. Yuck. Too strong of a taste.

After I packaged up the pulp for the freezer (That was the recommendation if you weren't going to use it right away, or if you are going to save it for garden compost in the spring.) and walked away, I remembered Angela from Oh She Glows. I have had good luck with her recipes and I know she uses pulp on occasion. She did not disappoint. I used her recipe for Carrot Chia Spelt Muffins as a guide and created my own. I was all excited when she mentioned you could use a mashed banana instead of the applesauce - because I was certain I had a frozen one. But no luck. I was so disappointed, until I looked through my cupboards for a substitute and lo! And behold! A can of pears! I drained it and mashed them with a potato masher, coming up with exactly one cup of squished pears. I was in for the experiment!

Carrot Clementine Chocolate Pear Muffins

Dry Ingredients:

1 cup white flour

1 cup whole wheat flour

3 T. sugar

1 1/4 t. cinnamon

1/4 t. ginger

1/4 t. sea salt

2 t. baking powder

1/2 t. baking soda

Wet Ingredients:

2 T. ground flax meal

1/2 cup unsweetened almond milk

1 cup carrot and clementine pulp

1 1/5 t. vanilla

2 T. agave nectar

1 can pears, drained and mashed

1/4 cup olive oil

1/4 cup chocolate chips

Mix the dry. Mix the wet. Combine both and fill muffin liners with 1/4 cup of mixture. Mine made 12. Bake at 375 for 25 minutes. Soooooo yummy. I gobbled two immediately with melted butter. (The chocolate chips and the butter are the only things that make this non-vegan, but to each her own.)

Happy New Year~!

Roundup

2010-12-31T09:25:00.004-06:00

Here's a look at my 2010.

January

My First Vlog: How To Stay Warm When It's 40 Below

I Made Cheese

February

One of My Favorite Pictures of Me

Where I Tell You that Cowgirl Is Having a Baby

And Then Jim Dies

March

I Tentatively Start Running

April

Wherein I Decide to Take Charge Of My Life And Run

Seeing My Nephew

Quite Possibly My Funniest Post About Lifting Weights

May

The Garden Begins

The Awesomest Dating Profile Ever

Chipotle Black Bean Burritos. Yum.

June

The Garden Starts To Grow

July

I Went To Texas

The July Garden Edition

Munchkin Number 3 Arrives

August

It's Not All Butterflies and Rainbows

I Finally Start To Believe I'm A Runner

My Dinner in Tuscany

September

Fertile Crescent - Four Months

My First RACE!!!!!!

October

The End of the Garden

November

I Take Charge Of My Money

Race Number 2

The Love Of My Life

Race Number 3

December

The One Where I Get A New Job

Four Years Sober

Making Peace With The Dead Guy

That's the year in review. I doubt that many of you will clickety click the links, but it's amazing to me to see what I've walked (and run) through this year. Just do the footwork, indeed. Happy New Year, Internet. Happiest of New Years. Bring it on, 2011!

Out Among the English

2010-12-30T09:20:00.001-06:00

It's pouring rain. Yes, rain. And the minute the temperature drops, it's going to get ugly icy. I'm stuck again! I was going to go to my mom and dad's for my birthday on Sunday, but noooo.... The weatherman doesn't see fit. At least I'm going to get a bunch of snow out of the deal, right? And here's the funny thing. I'm not one to run to the grocery store and buy out the milk and bread. I mean seriously, milk and bread? What are you going to do? Eat dry toast and drink milk while you watch the snow come down? But that's all everyone buys and the bread aisle is bare before noon. That just strikes me as awfully strange. If I was panicking about being stuck in my house for the weekend, I'd be all frozen pizzas and cheetos and doritos and sliced cheese and crackers and cookies and stuff for cheese dip and cocktail weiners. Who wants to eat toast? I'm not panicking, but I do have to go to the grocery store. I really only have a half a jar of salsa, leftover split pea soup and some almond milk. If I rooted through the cupboards, I'm pretty sure I could find stuff to eat. I'm certain I would not starve. But who wants to be snowed in without cheese? Not me.

So, out among the peoples. The humanity. I've told you I'm an introvert, right? Being out and about exhausts me, especially so with a bunch of crazy lunatics buying out the bread and milk. But I have a little secret. You know all those people that rush to the grocery and then they're all hateful and mean and shoving carts into one another and jostling in line? I KNOW that's what it's going to be like, so instead of joining them, I turn it into an opportunity for incredible people watching. I usually hum songs to myself and smirk while I'm watching, too. And sometimes a little kid will catch on that these people are being insane and start pointing and laughing at their bad behavior and that gives me great glee. I just stand there and when someone shoves past me in line, I just let them. Because what else are you going to do? This is where I start to feel a little superior to mankind. Yes. Superior. There. I said it.

So, all you mean grocery-getters?

I'm going to be watching you. While I'm humming and pointedly looking in awe at your gruesome behavior.

Then I'm going home to eat cheese. You have fun with that milk and bread.

V

2010-12-28T21:32:00.004-06:00

Well, honey? It's been five years. Five whole years since you left this earth for better things. I was so ticked off that you abandoned me here to fumble along on my own. I was convinced I had finally found my shield. The one that would defend me against life's struggles. The one that would guard against the humanity that frightened me so. I just didn't know how much you, yourself, struggled.

I knew that you were sick. I knew that your drinking was but a symptom of greater things. I knew that sober, you were a fantastic and energetic man. But you just weren't ever clean. Anything you could take to block out life, you ingested. I didn't know quite how serious it was until it was too late. That black night in North Carolina, when I called your mother crying, to ask what I should do, was one of the darkest nights of my life. I felt like I was telling on you. I felt helpless. I felt like I wasn't enough. I wanted to be enough for you. I wanted to be special enough for you to stop drinking. But at the time, I didn't understand addiction. I didn't know it didn't have anything to do with me. I didn't know that no matter how much I gave, you would continue to take. And take in an abundance I didn't understand.

I held you. Oh, I held you so tightly that you asked to be freed. Those nights when you tried to not. You'd shake. And sweat. And swear. You'd be sick, and stumble back to bed, helpless in your own way. And I promised you it would get better. I didn't know, but I promised anyway. And then you WERE clean, and I was disgusted with you. They told you that at the last treatment center, that I might be mad. And I was. But I let you kiss me and touch me and hold me anyway. And we stumbled through.

You body those last days just hurt me to see. The rashes that told me your skin was done. The blood you threw up before you'd take another drink. The one drink that made you puke and then the next one that calmed your soul. It hurt to watch. But watch, I did. As one by one, your systems shut down. I couldn't hold you tight enough to make it stop. I tried. I really did try. I begged and pleaded for you to get help. I clutched your hands, your soul. And it wasn't enough. I know now that I would never be enough to stop it. It had to come from something bigger than me. That something you didn't want to embrace.

How I missed you on my own journey. When I finally got sober. I wanted you to see and feel the pain I felt when I saw your ravaged body. I wanted you there to witness how hard I tried to stay sober. I wanted you to acknowledge how hard it was and to congratulate me on my new journey. But you weren't there. You were dead. You gave in to this disease that I continue to fight every day of my life.

Sometimes I wish you were here. I want to hold you. Touch your face. Cuddle on the couch and watch a bad movie. Sometimes, I meet people in meetings that I know you would have loved and listened to, but it was too late for you. And sometimes I wish it was still too late for me, but its not. Because I'm here. I'm alive. And I'm sober. For what its worth.

And I love you. Still, I love you. I will never forget that instant attraction. I will never forget lying in your arms. And I will never forget you challenging me to live my life. Well? I AM living my life today. And I hope you would be proud of me. I am not the woman that you met those many years ago, drunk out of her mind and insane. I am considerate, full of life, vivacity and love. Oh, I have so much love.

Those letters I found last week? Compel me to remember just how smitten we were with one another. There is no other word for it. There is no other love I can compare it to. We both knew in that instant that there was no other. And we made it so. I miss you. I miss you so much sometimes it hurts. And I love you. Still. For who you were and are to me. You don't come as often to see me anymore. And I regret that. But I know that's life. That's moving on and that's healing. Sometimes I forget what your voice sounds like. I don't dream about you anymore and I know that looking at pictures is a lesson in humility that I don't really need on dark nights. But I still love you. I will always love you. You are of my heart. And I am grateful to have known that love.

The Preschooler

2010-12-28T09:09:00.001-06:00

Today is my fourth sobriety anniversary. Four years. Seems like yesterday sometimes and at other times, it seems a lifetime ago. I don't remember very much about those 30 days I spent in treatment. I know I had panic attack after panic attack where I would run gasping, to the office for help. And then someone would sit with me and rub my back and hold my hands and remind me to breathe in and then out again until it passed. I know that I spent hours and hours, crying. Wondering if the tears would ever stop. And then when they finally did, I'd sit in wonder that I no longer felt anything at all. And I also knew that I was loved. Loved so much, that they wouldn't allow me to hurt myself anymore. That whole first year of sobriety, I think I walked around in shock most of the time. Scared of myself. Scared of my thoughts. Scared of the world. Without my shield. Without Jason.

And then the grief moved in. I was four months sober when I turned to my co-worker and said, "He's really dead. He's never coming back." And she looked and looked at me and said, "He's been gone for a year, Kate." And I said, "What?" Because it had finally sunk in. And after an emergency trip to see Carolyn, the mourning started in earnest. Because the cloudiness of my mind had finally cleared enough to accept that he was really gone. I spent most of that second year of sobriety, learning what it means to move on after loss. I'm proud of the hard work I did. I wouldn't be the woman that I am now if I had allowed that grief to sink in and stick around for a lifetime. Sure, it still hurts on occasion. Sure, I'm surprised by things that I find or things that remind me of him. That's what grief is. But the level at which I was living it was not sustainable for the long haul and I had to learn to let go.

Finally, at year three, I started to heal. Two years ago, my motto was "Do the uncomfortable, do the unfamiliar." Which was my rallying cry to just do life differently. The old ways hadn't worked for me. Hiding behind a book and a drink just simply wasn't going to make me happy. So, I started my life over. I tried new things. I did things that scared me. I went rock climbing. I went camping again. I went camping by myself! I started writing. I blossomed into a new woman who laughs. New Life! Indeed! But this year? My motto was "Just do the footwork." And in all areas of my life, I did the footwork. I wanted a new job. I sent out resumes, I went to interviews, I scanned school catalogues. I did my part and left the results up to The Universe. And The Universe provided. I think I want to be in a relationship with a man. So, I put myself out there. I'm online. I tell people I'm looking. I've met several people. I've done the footwork and The Universe has just not seen fit. Okay. So, I keep doing the footwork that is my life and he may or may not show up. I wanted to try something entirely new, so I started running. I set a goal and I followed through. Footwork, indeed!

My life is ever evolving. I don't make too many hard and fast plans. That just doesn't work for me and sets me up for disappointment and sorrow. So, I take what today brings and I embrace it as much as I can. Moving forward with this thing called life. And I couldn't do it without all of you and your constant encouragement. Thank you for sharing this journey with me. Here's to year five of New Life.

So, That Split Pea Soup

2010-12-27T18:34:00.002-06:00

I ate that soup with cranberry juice. Get it? Green soup and red drink? Herbed Tuscan bread on the side? All Christmas colors. Here's the recipe that was adapted from Oh She Glows. I am not a vegetarian/vegan, so my incarnation is yummy, but also pork free. You know all those split pea and ham soups? Yucko. Here's my version.

1 T. olive oil

1 large onion, chopped

1/2 t. sea salt

2 c. dried split green peas, rinsed and picked over (for rocks)

5 cups chicken broth

Junist of 1/2 lemon

Add olive oil to a big pot and warm. Stir in onions and salt. Cook the onions until translucent. Add the chicken broth and split peas, bring to a boil. Then lower the heat and cover. Simmer for 45 minutes to an hour - until the peas are soft to taste. Puree in two batches, returning to the pan to re-heat. Serve with a sprinkle of paprika for color and lemon juice for zest. I like mine totally pureed, but some people like it chunky.

Gay Boyfriend totally loved it.

Christmas in Pictures

2010-12-27T07:57:00.005-06:00

Split Pea Soup
New Socks.
Family.Quiet.
And Fun.

Merry Christmas

2010-12-25T08:39:00.000-06:00

From my house to yours, with love.

A Teeny Lunch For Christmas Eve Day

2010-12-24T11:49:00.003-06:00

How do you like that cow napkin? Straight from the mothership. It came with my picnic basket ensemble one year. Since I am staying put for the time being, I had to come up with some menu items for my lovely Christmas Eve Day. I have to celebrate, no matter what. There will be a festive dinner post later on, but for now, you get lunch.

This incarnation is based on my Grandma's Chili Recipe. I still use her card, but I make all the substitutions in my head. My brother and sister and I all went to the same University in the city where my Grandma lives. She saw it her duty to feed us on Sundays. Plus, having had four children to feed while she was young, it was hard for her to cook just for one. She would cook for us on Sundays, knowing that the leftovers would feed her during the week. It worked out for all of us. And we got to know our grandmother in a way that others never will.

We'd come barreling in around eleven. Sometimes bringing homework, sometimes bearing the groceries that she'd asked for, and no matter what, I always seemed to find a nap on her couch while we listened to Car Talk on NPR in the afternoons. And somehow, I turned into the official light bulb changer at her house. That was always my job. To get on various chairs in various rooms at various times of the year to change them out. Now that I don't live there, I always wonder if she calls someone right away to do it, or if she waits in the dark. That makes me sad. But I cherish, cherish, cherish those memories. And her chili was one of my favorites. Always served with Texas toast.

Grandma's Chili - Reinvented

1 lb. ground turkey breast

1 can kidney beans - drained

1 can black beans - drained

2 onions, chopped

4 cloves of garlic, minced

1 28 oz. can tomatoes

2 cups beef broth

1 6 oz. can tomato paste

3 T. chili powder

1 1/2 t. dried oregano

1 t. cumin

1/2 t. cayenne

Brown the ground turkey and drain. Slightly sautee the onions and garlic. Then throw all the rest of it in a crock pot and cook for hours. Your house will smell glorious. If you don't have a crock pot, put it on the stove and bring to a boil, then turn the heat down, cover, and simmer for 1-2 hours. Season with salt and pepper. Makes 6 servings.

I even worked out the nutritional information on this lazy day. It's actually a lot more healthy than I thought! Low in calories and fat and high in protein and fiber.

Per Serving:

Calories: 326

Carbohydrates: 42

Protein: 23

Fiber: 10

Fat: 2

A Tribute

2010-12-23T09:20:00.000-06:00

The snow is coming! Which means I'm most likely staying put for the weekend. That further means I can sleep in tomorrow, go to the gym, experiment in the kitchen, cuddle with my cats, and READ! On a snow day! I think that's a fantastic plan, don't you? What should I cook, internet? Something interesting. Something I've never tried before... There will be some googling today.

I want to tell you a story about The Good Doctor. He hates being on call. Mostly because plastic surgery emergencies are not really emergencies and do not require middle of the night calls from the ER docs, but he gets them anyway. For instance, if you get in a fight and someone shatters your eyesocket? You can't have surgery right away because the swelling has to go down. Basically, we see them in the office the next day and then send them home to ice it for a day or two before we schedule the surgery. But orbital fractures are pretty serious. You can lose your vision if it's not fixed. And I imagine bone fragments making their way into your brain and stabbing some vital portion of your functioning, but The Good Doctor just rolls his eyes at me and draws me pictures to explain why that can't happen.

I digress.

One morning, he calls me to tell me we're seeing a patient from the ER. They must have called him the night before. And his answer is always, "Tell them to come in at 10 a.m." And this man walks in right at 10 a.m. He's very polite. Scared and with an obvious facial fracture of some sort. I pull up his CT scans for the doctor and only because he's taught me how to read them, I can tell this is a pretty dang serious fracture - his eye socket is in pieces and shoved under one another and his cheek bone is shattered. "That must have been one heck of a fight" I say. He says, "I didn't see it coming. It was dark and I was trying to go to sleep." It's obvious that this man is homeless. He doesn't smell clean, he is bundled in all kinds of shredded clothes, and his shoes leave a lot to be desired for the snow. And in walks the doctor. He sits right next to him in the waiting room and starts talking to him - where are you from? Why are you homeless? How did this happen? Basically getting his whole life story. Because that's who he is. And because I know the doctor, I know that he will tell the man that he will not charge him for the surgery and not to worry about the hospital bill - that he will take care of that. And also because I know the doctor and that he can't do his surgery right away, I'm on the phone while this whole exchange is taking place, trying to find him a bed at one of the homeless shelters in town. So when the doctor asks me to find him a place to stay while the swelling goes down, I tell him I've got a bed for him. Because I do. The only caveat is that he has to stay sober. I ask him if that's possible. He tells me he's unsure, but he will give it a try. Off he goes. Two days later, he has his surgery, the doctor asks him if he's willing to work because if he is, he'll talk to "some people" about getting him a job at the hospital. Turns out the man was from Minneapolis and wanted to go home, but still.

That's the kind of doctor I work for. A person in need is the best kind of person in his book. And he will do anything for them. He will sit right next to them and make them feel like the human being that they are, giving them respect and dignity and gentle care. And that is why I love The Good Doctor so very much. He has taught me many, many things over the years. And I will miss him dearly when I go.

I've been told "not to cut the umbilical cord" and to "Come back. Often." Because, "I need psychotherapy." Which is what he calls our discussions about life and meaning and what it means to be a human being in this world. And I hope this relationship lasts for a lifetime.

White Christmas

2010-12-22T09:06:00.001-06:00

Internet! It's only 3 days until Christmas! Wheeee! I don't know why I'm so dang excited this year, but I'll take it! We're supposed to have "light snow" tomorrow and "snow showers" on Friday. That's even better! Nothing like last year's blizzard, but still. Snow for Christmas seems just right.

In completely unrelated news, look what I'm thinking about doing.

**10-Week Half Marathon Training Schedule**
Week	Mon	Tue	Wed	Thu	Fri	Sat	Sun	Total
1	3	Rest	3	3	Rest	4	Rest	13
2	3	Rest	4	3	Rest	5	Rest	15
3	3	Rest	4	3	Rest	6	Rest	16
4	3	Rest	5	3	Rest	8	Rest	19
5	3	Rest	5	3	Rest	10	Rest	21
6	4	Rest	5	4	Rest	11	Rest	24
7	4	Rest	6	4	Rest	12	Rest	26
8	4	Rest	5	4	Rest	9	Rest	22
9	3	Rest	4	3	Rest	8	Rest	18
10	3	Rest	3	Walk 2	Rest	13.1	Rest	21.1

From www.marathonrookie.com

Now, I just have to find one around here around the 1st of May or so. I haven't located one yet.

Also, because I'm not a horrible curmudgeon, what are YOU doing for the holidays? (Because I have discovered that it's just a normal thing that normal people ask one another this time of year.)

Making Plans

2010-12-21T09:06:00.003-06:00

This time of year, the most asked question is, "What are you doing for Christmas?" And I know it's just a conversation starter, right? This is just peoples' way of engaging you. It's an acceptable question that should be benign. Is it? It is. I should stop taking offense to it, I suppose. Offense isn't the right word. It's not, but I don't know what the right word is, so offense it is.

Because my answer to that question is, "I don't know." And then people get all bent out of shape and "What? You can't be alone on Christmas! Come to my house! Have dinner with my family!" Because they don't understand that "I don't know." doesn't necessarily mean I'm going to be alone. I could be going to my mom and dad's. That has yet to be determined. My family doesn't play games with the weather. Snow=No Go. Nobody is going to risk life and limb just to get together on a holiday. I could be staying put and having dinner at Symphony Date's house. I've been invited. I've also been invited to a holiday open house that features food, games, movies and just hanging out.

But I also very seriously consider spending the day alone. That prospect doesn't bother me. Not one bit. If I go to dinner at Symphony Date's, I'm certainly not staying 'til all hours. I'll visit and be polite, and probably have a really good time, but I will head home as soon as I can. Because that's who I am. Why all the insistence on people not being alone on a holiday? I feel like I'm somehow morally incompetent to understand this. I almost feel shamed by people when I say I don't mind being alone on Christmas.

Anyone want to weigh in?

Holiday Cheer, Restored

2010-12-18T21:53:00.002-06:00

Symphony Date has been asking me for three years now around Christmastime, to accompany him to a little storefront in Nora, SD, population 5. It's an old grocery store that closed in the 60's and the owner of the building, was gifted a 106 year old pipe organ that he restored and installed in said building. Every weekend between Thanksgiving and Christmas, he hosts a sing-a-long of Christmas Carols and other holiday favorites with him accompanying whoever shows up as they shout out the hymn numbers. Little kids were running around with sleigh bells, horns and whistles. People were thrumming the tambourine as they saw fit, and I witnessed some of the best impromptu harmony I've heard in a long time.

I lost my voice, I sang so much. It was lovely. And it made me smile. And even though I did NOT get up on the piano, there are some songs that are just impossible NOT to sing lounge lizard style and I did as I desired. It made Symphony Date giggle.

Blindsided

2010-12-17T22:03:00.002-06:00

So, I didn't go looking for it. That's the important part, right?

I am looking for my syllabuses for my graduate classes. I need them for my application for my chemical dependency certification. I have two large bins that hold my business papers at the moment. I haven't looked at them for a long, long time. Probably before I moved here three years ago. I block a lot of those memories out, yanno?

I came across a printed email exchange between me and The Dead Guy, shortly after we met. He must have sent me flowers. And I remember those flowers. How beautiful they were. All daisies and wildflowers. I don't like roses and all those contrived fauna. Just wild things. And that's what it was. I wish I could find a picture of it for you, but that bouquet was perfect. So perfect.

Anyway. Here were some sappy emails. I laughed. I SO laughed. They were so gooey and lovey. I am SO not that girl today, they made me giggle. And I put them back in the folder they came from and kept looking. I NEED these papers, right? Then I found cards. The ones where he told me I was his soulmate. The ones where he said he never thought he'd meet a woman like me. The ones where he adamantly confessed that we were meant to be together forever.

And it made my face turn hot. It made my skin crawl. It made me tear up, but not cry. I'm not sure I'm capable of crying over it anymore. But I was not prepared for it. Not one bit. I used to go looking for the pain. I used to open the picture albums with a glass full of vodka, hoping to make it hurt just that much more so I had an excuse to die.

But I don't have that excuse anymore. I just felt sad. I just felt a bit of panic. Just feel... so very sad. And lonely. And I miss him. One more time, I miss him. It's been long time since I felt this bereft. My friend Brooke told me that nothing happens by mistake. And I want to mis-believe her this time. I was finally feeling happy about the season. I was finally ready to let the past hurts go and enjoy.

And maybe I still can enjoy, but tonight? I feel that punch in the gut and have to put a name on it. And I' m going to call it grief. Because it takes a myriad of forms. And tonight, it mysteriously appeared in a bin of business papers. And I'd like to put the lid back on it and forget that I ever saw it. But I can't. So I go to bed. Grieving once more. Wishing that it will be the last time, and knowing that it won't be.

STOP THE PRESSES!

2010-12-17T09:49:00.003-06:00

OMG! I could have a scarf with The Plague virus on it!!!!!!!

Happy Feet Friday

2010-12-17T08:52:00.003-06:00

It's boot weather around here from now on. These are old, but trusty. And sexay. Or something like that. I experimented in the kitchen last night. The lentils? Perfect. I used black French lentils and they were yummy. I expect to dice up some onion, red pepper, maybe some cauliflower and broccoli and toss that into a warm bowl of lentils this weekend. We shall see what happens to them.

I also attempted a lemon tahini dressing. I seriously followed the directions. (I don't usually.) And well? It was really yucky. In the end, all I could taste was the olive oil. Blech. Not a winner. And sadly, I had high hopes for it being the dressing I'd toss with the lentils. There will be some googling going on today for an alternative.

But the winner was what I have termed Banana Soup for my breakfast this morning. I had two frozen bananas in the freezer and have been contemplating a use for them. So I whirled one up with some almond milk, a big scoop of protein powder, a small scoop of chia seeds and a teeny handful of chocolate chips. It got thicker overnight - that's what the chia seeds do. And then I plopped a handful of Kashi Go Lean Crunch in there and voila! Banana Soup!

In other news, it is the weekend. And I am very excited to sleep in tomorrow morning. Yeah!

The Back Story

2010-12-16T09:06:00.001-06:00

Sorry to keep going on and on about the dentist. But I learned some very valuable lessons the other day. Even though I will have been sober four years this month, that's still *only* four years. People go out and drink all the time. After longer periods of sobriety than myself. It frightens me sometimes, yanno? So, I take a lot of things into consideration when it comes to my healthcare. Certainly, I am not going to turn down a medication that I need if it is indicated. But I do make sure that I am covering all my bases, talking to people that can guide me, and taking the time to think it through before accepting anything of a narcotic or mood-altering variety.

I had meningitis before I got sober. But I was still terrified when my doctor told me that they had exhausted all of their resources for pain medication and that morphine was the last option. I knew I was an alcoholic at that point, I just wasn't admitting it to anyone. And the last thing I wanted to do was get hooked on narcotics, too. It was a long, tearful conversation with the doctor sitting on my bed, holding my hand and reassuring me that he would not discharge me addicted to pain medication. And I relented. But I still went home with two full bottles of little purple morphine pills. Like a good alcoholic, I stopped taking them right away so that I could drink. I knew that mixing the two was a bad idea. It was pain medication and rum that took The Dead Guy out at the end. But guess what? I didn't get rid of those bottles. I kept them. For a looooong time. I was four months sober when I called my recovery mom in tears and said, "You have to come get these. I've been staring at them for an hour." Because that's what addicts do. They think "Just one won't hurt." or "No one will know." and in those dark moments, having the option removed is a Very Good Idea.

I'm in a much different place today. I'm pretty sure that if I were in possession of medically necessary narcotics, I'd use them the way they were intended or simply get rid of them if I no longer needed them. But that's the beauty of recovery. You can be damn sure that every single one of my friends would know that I was on them and would check in with me to make sure I was okay, was still on board, and would step in at a moment's notice to help me if I found it challenging. So what could I have done differently at the dentist? I should have taken someone with me. It had been in the back of my mind to ask someone to accompany me, but I thought "I'm a big girl. I don't need anyone to hold my hand." And well? That's just stupid pride. I had a horrible experience the previous time. What would have been wrong with asking someone to come with me for a little moral support? NOTHING.

Because in that moment when I was panicking, Cowgirl could have stepped in and said, "Strap that gas on her. Stat!" Which would have saved the tearful hemming and hawing about whether or not that was the right thing to do. And once it was on, she'd tell me to "Enjoy it for all it's worth, woman! You don't get this chance very often!" Which would have stopped the panicked thoughts I was having about "OMG! This is freaking awesome! Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breath." alternating with, "Not awesome! Nooooo!!!! Not awesome! You hate this feeling! You hate it!" And then trying desperately to breathe through my mouth to make the floaty feeling go away. And ultimately as we were driving away, she would have said to me, "Now. You're not going to drink over this, right?" And then we'd laugh. Sigh. I know better for next time, right? I take my recovery very seriously because I never ever want to go back to that life I was living before. The one where I was mediated to the hilt and shuffling around at the psychotel, holding on to the walls because the world was spinning. The one where I sat in my closet, night after night, hoping that night was going to be the one where I screwed up enough courage to end it all. Never. I never want to go back there. And that would be why I need to take someone to the dentist with me.

Oh. How Much It Hurts

2010-12-14T21:10:00.002-06:00

H. It was bad, Internet. Like, really bad. There were tears. There was shaking. There was uncontrollable breathing. Sigh. It was horrid. I had been talking to myself about it for days. "He isn't hurting me. He is helping me. These are different teeth. This is preemptive. This is a good thing. This will mean I am all done." sort of thing. The power of the mind is something I take very seriously. I work with my crazy, right?

So, it very much surprised me, when after the nice nurse had applied the topical numbing agent and told me to breathe several times through my nose while she was giving me massive amounts of Novocaine, that I completely lost it. I was wiping away tears behind the safety glasses that they wanted me to wear and listening to their active banter. And then I shot up on the bed and said, "I am having a panic attack."And started bawling and shaking and the tears were uncontrollable and the fact that I couldn't even get the tissues to my face was very disconcerting to me. That seemed to make to worse. That I couldn't make it stop. They talked to me. They tried to distract me with talking about my job. They were awesome. But there was nothing talking me off that ledge. They gave me some sort of shot, which I still don't know what it was, and then they hooked me up to the laughing gas. I was under the impression that they didn't even HAVE the gas, but apparently, because insurance doesn't pay for it, they just don't ever use it.

It helped some. If I wasn't an alcoholic, I suppose I would have enjoyed it, but I hated how it made me feel. The fact that I was willingly breathing in something that made me feel silly, made me feel insane. And that was a whole new level of acceptance in my life today. I wanted more of it and wanted it to take me to oblivion, but I fought that feeling. So much so that it failed to work.

Sigh.

It was awful. I'm just going to put that out there. It was awful. And the fact that I completely lost it prior to anything being done makes me feel even worse. I give a ton of kudos for those nurses for walking me through it.

But mom and dad were coming. And even though I looked liked I'd had a stroke with the numbness, we went downtown and surveyed some stores. We have the Big Christmas Exchange every year. They pick up presents from me and send them in the packages they are sending to my brother and sister. Here's Christmas at my house this year.
And while we were at the bookstore, my dad showed me this. It's like a huge Farmer's Almanac! How cool is that! I have already discovered that azeleas are poisonous to my cats. I didn't know that. Crazy! It also tells me how to make different kinds of cheese and home remedies for upset stomachs. I kind of love it.

Giving Up and Giving In

2010-12-13T22:37:00.004-06:00

I am having some serious dental work done tomorrow. I am not happy. But it has to be done, right? The last time was awful. Pure awfulness. So, I'm trying not to stress out about it. My Ipod is in my purse; I am hoping that helps. When I made the appointment, I asked if they ever used laughing gas and they said no, but I could certainly get a prescription from my doctor for Xanax or Klonopin. And well? I'm a freaking addict, so no. I can't. And, I suffer through. I know it's a matter of a few hours of uncomfortableness, but it sucks nonetheless. I only hope this one goes better. I lose my dental insurance with my new job, so there is no question that I cannot turn back.

I am NOT looking forward to it.

At all.

The Will To Win At Winter II

2010-12-13T09:56:00.002-06:00

We were snowed in all weekend! It was glorious! I know, I complain about winter on this blog quite a bit, but the first serious snow of the winter is something to enjoy like the five year old in my heart wants me to. It still hadn't done much by Friday night, but hooo baby! When I woke up on Saturday morning, it was snowing and blowing; the kind where you can hardly see the house across the street. Gay Boyfriend and The Janitor (A new addition to our house. He rents the extra bedroom upstairs with Gay Boyfriend. He's older, quite funny, likes to sit and cross stitch and he's a neat freak, which is a good thing for slobby GB.) were making cappuccinos in their pajamas and trying to decide which movie to start with for the day, so I joined them. But after twenty minutes of The Big Gay Musical, I knew that the likelihood of me being able to spend the day with two flaming gay men watching gay movies, without me stabbing someone was slim to none.

So, I did like every good Midwesterner. I showered up, loaded up my backpack, bundled to the hilt ala Dennis Quaid in The Day After Tomorrow, and hit the streets to Dog Girl and Dog Boy's house. Now, they are on my 5K running route. They are approximately a mile and a half away. I run to their house, have some coffee and then run back home. In every season but this one, apparently. There was no running. The wind was so strong and silly me, I thought walking by the hospital would be a good idea - with all the big buildings to protect me. Um, no. The wide open parking lots were tunnels for the wind and snow. I had to stop about four times to clear the condensation off my goggles and there was a lot, A LOT of trudging through the thigh high drifts. But strangely, I never once contemplated turning around. I had a destination! I was going to Win at Winter! And I did. I arrived at their sparkly Christmas lighted house shortly before I could no longer feel my thighs. We spent the morning guzzling coffee, gossping, playing with the dogs, watching bad tv, listening to Christmas Carols, and just hanging out. Dog Girl laments her cooking skills and has repeatedly asked me to teach her how to make some new things, and what a perfect opportunity, right?

So, she cleaned her driveway and we set out in her all wheel drive car and we went to the store. Like the other five hundred idiots in Sioux Falls. I mean, it's blizzarding out, right? There's a travel advisory for driving IN TOWN and the grocery store was PACKED! Midwesterners are gluttons for punishment, yanno. Also, we don't like people to tell us what we can and cannot do. Then we stopped by my house and I grabbed my knitting basket, because what's a good snow day without spinster knitting? I taught Dog Girl how to sautee onions, the difference between using minced garlic and garlic powder, how to drain your hamburger, and what it means to "eyeball" your spices as we whipped up my Grandma's chili and simmered it all day in the crockpot. We had a grand time in the kitchen and then I knitted scarves for her two dogs. (I know. But I did. They have a schnauzer and a schnoodle. They needed them.) Dog Girl took me home about 7 and the knitting continued. And the reading. And the slippers and hot chocolate.

Sunday morning? Still snowing. Still blowing. Roads are pretty much impassable and who shows up at my door? Dirty Ben. In his snazzy SUV. He takes me to a meeting. Boy Crush took me home in his Very Large Truck, and I knitted ALL DAY LONG. I kid you not. I had been hemming and hawing over Christmas gifts for my mom and dad. They have way too many books in their "to read" pile, and they are my parents. They HAVE everything they want. They don't have to budget for things like teeth and running shoes and toilet paper. They just go out and get what they need/want when they need/want it. So, I eyeballed my extensive stash of yarn and got to work. Dad's is a very fuzzy brown. Mom's is a muted colorwash of greens, blues, purples and peaches in a cream base. Baby Z is even getting an electric rainbow looking one. It was a wonderful day.

And then I talked to The Farmer for an hour. Someone I met online. And I didn't immediately despise him. That is a good thing.

Happy Feet Friday

2010-12-10T09:10:00.000-06:00

Thanks for all your suggestions, you guys! Once again, Internet FTW! I actually am really looking forward to not having the cafeteria to rely on. Will force me to get out of my slump and get creative. And you all know how I like to be creative... So here's the recipe I made up last night. Zuppa!

1 can chickpeas, drained

1 can diced tomatoes, undrained

6 cloves garlic, minced

1 yellow onion, chopped

2 cups broth - vegetable, chicken or beef

1 T. olive oil

basil

salt

pepper

Heat the oil in a pan over medium heat and sautee the onion. I did it slowly because I wanted that sweet caramelized kind of taste to them, then I threw in the minced garlic and cooked that just until you could smell it. Added the chickpeas and warmed them, then the diced tomatoes and broth. Brought it to a boil and added dried basil from my garden. Other herbs would work well too. I wanted it to have a creamier base than the broth, so I took about three ladels full and whizzed them in the blender and then returned them to the pot. Yummmmmmmmmmm. And just like you said, I froze two containers, ate one bowl and have another container in the refrigerator. Some people like greens in their soup. I do not. But I bet you could add some chopped spinach. That would not freeze well, though. And why did I make soup? Because...

Snow is coming! Snow is coming! I'm soooooo excited! Like a little kid! I'll be running back and forth from my desk to the patient room with the windows all day long, just waiting for it to start falling. I cherish this childlike part of me when it comes. I think she needs to be nurtured. Notice I said childlike, not childish. BIG difference.

So, make some soup, get a good book, and curl up with someone you love. (That would be cats in my world) and have a cozy weekend, my friends.

What's your favorite comfort food?

A Little Help From My Friends

2010-12-09T10:15:00.004-06:00

I have a naughty secret. I usually eat lunch at the hospital cafeteria. And sometimes breakfast, too. Sure, all those nice recipes I post for you get brought in when I make them, but the cafeteria? It's convenient. If I forget to pack a lunch or if I'm in a hurry, I don't worry about it because I know that there are two cafeterias for me to choose from and there's bound to be something at one of them that I feel like eating. And I justify the expense because as an employee, I get a sizeable discount.

This has not been good for my waistline. For all the healthy eating I try to do, I probably end up ruining most of it by a once or twice weekly Really Bad Decision. Like chicken strips and fries. Or cheesy bread. Sometimes it's the mac and cheese and corn dogs that beckon me. I know, gross, right? It's there. I tell myself I won't do it, but I do anyway. And then of course, I feel disgusting. I have a wonderful salad bar to choose from, grilled meats made to order, fresh soups, etc. Why? Sigh.

But, with my new job? No more cafeteria. I'm really going to have to plan lunches. And some dinners as well - because I will work a couple evenings a week. (Which I am excited about because I like to go to the gym in the mornings better than the evenings. I see this as a good thing. 9-5 has never been my forte.)

So. I need some suggestions. I will have a refrigerator, freezer and a microwave at my new place. Along with a coffee maker and full sink. I pondered just buying a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter and some jelly and leaving it there. But I'm better than that. I'm a cook, right? The biggest challenge is that I'm single. And anything I make, I have to eat at least half of and be able to freeze the rest for a later date. That gets hard. So. I'm asking for your help. Give me some solid ideas for portable work lunches that won't break my bank and are tasty and warm. Especially warm. Because well? Winter is here.