Love my new camera! This is Bub, drooling a little on the instruction manual. I was playing with the macro focus.

Grateful Thursday

Whew, here we go again.

1) It's Thursday again! This week has been boring with the office so quiet and empty.

2) I realized this morning how many overcoats and jackets I have to choose from. I didn't mean to ever buy that many, I've just kind of collected different types over the years-- long and wool, short and fleece, a classic trench, a mid-length rain slicker, etc. So many people out there don't have something warm to protect them from the cold and rain, or they struggle with an old or worn out coat. I'm very lucky.

3) My dog and cat who bring so much joy to my life

4) I complained about it, but I'm grateful for this quiet week. I needed it, needed to recharge.

5) Sundays with my husband. Big plans this week-- spray painting a patio table and chairs, retiling the fireplace (including putting up new drywall first), and weeding the yard. Maybe a nap with him too.

random thoughts

Today is a one email day. I needed a one email day today. 

I'm not feeling so good. We've got a big front coming through here, which means the beautiful and sunny 80 degree weather we had yesterday was replaced overnight by howling winds, 40 degree temps, and eventual rain. No human being can live in this and be healthy. My head is pounding because of the instantaneous change in pressure it's just been through. My nose is clogged, and I feel like the clouds are sitting heavy on my eyebrows, pushing me down, down, down.

All this despite me using my neti pot (this fun little system where you pour salt water in one nostril and it comes out the other, thus cleaning your sinuses), taking two mucus relief pills (yes that's what the bottle says), and two aleve. The mucus pill and aleve, even though I took them with food, have now given me heartburn. Can't win for losing. 

So I'm having a diet Dr. Pepper. We'll see if that helps. Even if it doesn't ease the heartburn, it'll keep me awake in this twilight-lit, deserted office, silent except for the wooshing of the wind by my window and the tick-tick of the bubbles popping in the aluminum soda can.

The clouds are really starting to move in now. Across the street behind the tree tops the sky is turning a from cloudy grey-white to angry grey-blue, like the clouds have suddenly sucked up all the moisture they can and are starting to droop and sag with the weight of it, like a soaked cotton ball.

One bright spot, other than my email not chirping at all this morning so far-- I get my new digital camera in the mail today! If I had it right now, I'd take a picture of those clouds for you. I've been going crazy these last two months since my other camera kicked the bucket. I bought a really nice one, I splurged a little, but I know I'll get a lot of use out of it.

don't start none

I usually check my blackberry before I leave the house in the morning (bad habit, I know) just in case there's an email for which I need to stop munching on my honey bunches of oats and respond right away. There's usually not, but my inbox generally gives me an idea of what the day will be like-- 3 to 5 emails, I'm on easy street, lots of blogging to be done, or a morning like today's, with 26 emails before 8:30 a.m., several of them including to-do lists for me, and I know my eyes will be glued to this screen for the next 8 hours, minus a quick thirty minutes for a cheese sandwich and carrots with hummus.

But I got a lot done. I like that I-had-a-constructive-day feeling, like I actually accomplished tasks, reached goals, and made others' lives a little easier in the process. I got a shiny new website launched today with only a couple hiccups, helped create an informational brochure for another client, and planned a week-long trip for my boss to see two clients in Ohio and one in Seattle. I also paid the bills-- very important task there.

I wasn't sure at the beginning the day would go like this. We have one client who insists on being World's Biggest Prick most of the time. Last week I sent him a bill for our services, he countered with "what services?" implying that we hadn't done anything for him. Ungrateful. Yesterday he made a snide remark about how expensive my boss's plane ticket to come see him was (our clients pay for travel), like I had some kind of magical control over airline fares. This morning he made another remark about his bill, again implying that he was paying too much for not enough. He's an enthusiasm vacuum, a good-mood sucker.

I try to chalk it up to him having a bad day (or week, or month), perhaps having financial problems, whatever. But today was too much for my boss, who immediately sent him a scathing email. He took up for me in that email too, like a big brother watching over me, as I'm the one to whom the complaints are usually sent. 

My thoughts: Don't start none, won't be none. I don't know where I first heard that phrase, but it's stuck with me, and it applies to so much in life. Really, try it out for yourself. If you don't start trouble, no trouble will come to you. Kind of like karma. Only much more fun to say.

baseball

Baseball season has started. Baseball season is the best season to live in this town, according to me. Football is too much work-- too many tourists and alumni, people dress up, the restaurants and bars get crowded with faces I don't recognize, you can't drive anywhere quickly. (And by quickly I mean it takes more than 10 minutes to get from one side of town to the other.) Tailgating is over-rated. Don't let my husband know I said that. Basketball is better because I enjoy the sport myself, except it's cold out, and the stadium here is run-down. The seats are so small that even a normal sized woman like me, standing no more than 5 foot 8, feels crunched and scrunched in those itchy blue upholstered fold-up seats. 

It's starting to warm up outside. It was 65 last night, just a light breeze, enough to wave our conference teams' flags over the outfield wall and stir up the charcoal smoke from the grills. Our friends gather in our area on the terrace behind left-center field, just next to the scoreboard. We put up a tent on sunny days, bring out the coolers of beer and soft-drinks, unfold our camping chairs, and Paul cooks up chicken wings, marinated mushrooms, sausages, and veggie kabobs. The girls bring home-baked cookies and snacks. Several of the guys, including my husband, take it upon themselves to learn everything they can about the opposing team's center-fielder, down to even his girlfriend's name (this is where facebook comes in handy) so if he commits an error he gets more than an ear full of heckling from the crowd. 

The sport itself doesn't make a difference to me. The point is getting together with friends we've so missed while hibernating through the winter. We get outside, get some Vitamin D kicking again, feel the warmth of the sun on our faces again, and feel better. Just one game and I already feel the dullness of winter fading from my body.

ketchup

"I've got an idea..." Sarah muttered, tapping her fingernail on the glass of my bedroom window in time with her thoughts. She jumped off the blue gingham-checked windowseat, her bright Strawberry Shortcake red hair now gleaming in the sun, like the idea had lit her up from the inside out. 

"Let's camp out, over there across the lake!"

"But it's freezing out-- it's February!" Mary moaned. Looking out the window up towards the grey sky and naked branches, I started to agree with her.

"But it's supposed to be warmer today and tomorrow. The high is 65! We'll be fine. Come on, it'll be fun!" Now Sarah was pacing, working up her plan, and Mary and I, looking at each other from across the couch, agreed without words there was no point in arguing with her now.

*

Down in the garage, Mary watching very carefully for spiders, we pulled out the old green canvas tent my brothers had used in boy scouts. They had long ago outgrown scouting-- "that's for babies," I could hear my baby brother's mocking voice now. But we still had the tent, and it was in pretty good shape.

"How many does this thing sleep?" Sarah groaned under the weight of it. 

"About 4, probably 5 max," I said. 

"Oh, good, we can invite Lauren then. And we'll need food, lots of food. And some way to make a fire. And hangers for marshmallows, and we need to get some beer too..." she rambled while Mary and I loaded the tent in my little red car to drive it across the levy. 

* 

Mary's phone rang in the hot dog section.

"Hello? Hey. Oh, really... Where? Yeah, I know. Really? Awesome. Yeah, yeah count us in. See you at 7."

"What was that?" Sarah asked, looking at Mary like she had just killed her favorite rabbit.

"Jason just invited us to a party, out at Mark's farm. He's going to meet us at CVS at 7 and we'll follow him out there. He's got beer. It's going to be killer." Mary always had her ears open for a party, especially one where Jason was involved.

"Oh, cool, we'll steal some of his beer and then come back to camp out," Sarah said absentmindedly. 

"Well, we could stay for a little while couldn't we? I mean we could hang out for an hour or two... we'd still have time to cook," Mary fretted while looking down at Sarah who was elbow deep in bags of marshmallows.

"Yeah, an hour will be ok. But no more than that! We have to build a fire too, and after all that we'll be starving... and you'll be half-drunk." Sarah said, looking sideways at Mary while jerking the biggest bag off the back of the shelf.

"Will not!"

*

"I think we forgot the ketchup!" Mary yelled while digging through the three plastic bags of groceries in the backseat. 

"We have to go back!" Sarah yelled, sitting up straight in her tan leather driver's seat and eyeing the turn lane like she was going to make a Batman-like U turn right here.

"We don't have time now. It's almost 5 and we've got to get ready." I said, always the diligent one.

"But you don't have any at your house. Oh, I know-- you two go in and get some packets here." And instead of the Batman-like U turn, she did a Batman-like swerve across two lanes of traffic into the McDonald's parking lot.

"Ketchup is hardly worth killing us over," I grumbled as I got out of the car and walked towards the door.

I held the greasy silver and glass door open for Mary, and she, being only 5 foot 1, performed her favorite trick of walking under my arm. We walked up to the deserted counter.

"Excuse me?" Mary said to the tall woman behind the counter.

"welcome to mcdonalds can I take yo order supersize is only fifty cent more" she spewed at us like she'd said it a thousand times in her life and was getting tired of it.

"Can we have some ketchup please?"

"Ketchup? You wanna order somethin'?"

"No, just ketchup," Mary said very politely, and the woman, without bending down or taking her eyes from Mary's face, reached under the counter, pulled out several packets, and threw them on the counter towards us.

Mary, red-faced, grabbed up the packets, and we ran for the door. Again trying not to actually touch it, I opened the door for her. There was a young man, maybe in his mid-twenties-- too old to be looking at me-- standing right behind me. His brown hair hung in his eyes so I could hardly see his face, but he was smiling at us. He had observed the entire conversation at the counter.

"You want a napkin to go with that ketchup?" he asked, holding a single clean white paper napkin out to me.

"Umm, no..." I stammered and we ran for the car without looking back.

*

"I can't believe this is happening," I exhaled as I watched Jason and his friends pull dry, dead branches and out of the woods and make a pile in front of our newly erected tent. "Who invited them?"

"Well, you know it wasn't going to happen any other way. I mean it's not like we were going to do all this work. And once Sarah gets an idea..." Mary trailed off, smiling at her own thoughts as she cracked open another beer.

"But I know my parents can see us. You see that light over there? That's their bedroom!" I pointed across the lake to a light in the not-far-enough distance. "They could be here in less that five minutes, and the only way out is the levy. It's not like the boys could hide their truck in the woods."

"Don't worry, none of this is your fault. I'll cover for you."

"FIRE!!!!" bellowed one of the guys, a guttural howl, like he had never before seen it and was amazed at himself for creating it.

Everyone pulled up a stump or a log or whatever they could and sat around the fire. One or two more beers in, people started pairing off, some departing into the woods, others into the tent. Lauren and I were left with a guy named Paul, all alone around the dying embers.

"It's cold... I'm going to the car," I mumbled, glad that the night was ending.

"Me too," said Lauren sleepily, grabbing her blanket and following me.

"Ahem. Can I come too?" Paul said weakly.

"Sure, you can have the backseat. Some camp-out, huh, Lauren," I said, plopping into my driver's seat and reclining it as far as it would go.

"Yep." 

Yep, I thought, a night I won't forget anytime soon.

My grandfather told me once, and just once so I'm not sure why it's stuck with me all these years, that some people are born to do physical labor while others are born to supervise. 

"You," he said, "are a supervisor."

I think I was probably 10. He had been mowing, and in joking I told him he missed a spot. I hadn't raised a hand all day except to help my grandmother cook. I did like snapping peas on the back porch.

At the time he was teasing me because I never liked to do things like mowing, weeding, scrubbing, mopping, or anything that got my hands dirty and me sweaty. He lived for that, for being outside and working hard, mowing his 10 acres, twiddling in his wood working shop, hoeing his garden. I didn't even like picking his blueberries, although truth be told it was because I hated the wasps, and he knew that, which is why he'd let me borrow his big leather work gloves because they covered me up to my elbows.

But I think he also recognized in me the ability to rise above the physical labor he'd done all his life. He knew I'd go to college and eventually get an office job, that I wouldn't necessarily need to be able to stand on my feet eight hours, work outside all day, or crawl through a construction site to do wiring, like he did. So it was a good thing that I was good at supervising. 

For a long time I shunned any physical labor, like I really was above it. I never thought I was above him, just the work. Something happened to me around the time he got sick, though, especially after we bought our first house. I hammered a nail (and not just to hang a picture). I planted a bush. I changed a light fixture, painted a wall, weeded my entire yard, planted bulbs, demolished a rotten part of the deck and rebuilt it, put a new brick border around our freshly planted flower beds. Every time I did something new, learned a new skill or accomplished a new task, I thought of him and how proud he'd be of me. Because I learned it all from him in the first place, the value of a hard day's labor and the pride it brings. 

It's those times that I miss him the most. I wish he could see me now, could see the ways in which I am becoming him, the ways that I honor him and the love and kindness he always showed me. I am lucky and grateful to have had him in my life. Surely he's looking down on me from somewhere, smiling, thinking about his little Liz dancing in his garden, now grown into a strong woman, still dancing, in her own beautiful garden.

Grateful Thursday

1) The promotion and raise I got at work yesterday!!! Woo!!!

2) That I had a man like my grandfather in my life, even if it was only for the first 25 years. 

3) That someone opened a super Indian restaurant here... now all I need is Thai.

4) A predicted sunny and warm weekend for baseball games and crawfish boils.

5) Forgiveness, both my ability to forgive and others' forgiveness of my mistakes.

short and sweet

I'm in love with my new blog layout. It only took me a day and a half to finish. Ha. If you've visited me in that time, no telling what you saw, but here it is, in its simple finality.

We're having homemade potato soup and broiled tomato sandwiches for dinner, hoping that tonight might be one of the last really cold nights we have for a while. Come on, Spring.

Edited post-dinner to add:

Those tomato sandwiches were so good I could have eaten five of them. Here's the recipe if you're interested. They'll be even better this summer with my home-grown tomatoes. I can't wait!

Cut about two-three tomatoes into thin slices. Mix 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar and 2 tablespoons olive oil together in a small bowl. Add the tomatoes to marinate. In another bowl, mix 2 or 3 tablespoons of mayo, 1 tsp of Italian seasoning (parsley, oregano, etc.), 1 tsp of black pepper, and 1 tbsp grated parmesan cheese. Spread the mayo on lightly toasted bread (about 4 pieces), add the tomato slices on top of that, and sprinkle a little more cheese on the top of the tomatoes. Put under the broiler in the oven 3-5 minutes until the cheese melts and starts to brown. Enjoy!

I want another one right now.

me

"Your BMI (body mass index): 21 kg/m^2

Your weight is in the normal range.

You do not need to lose weight. 

Minimum caloric requirements: 1922 calories per day."

I don't know this about myself. I look at myself in the mirror, naked after a shower, and I don't see the size 4 looking back at me. I see a large pocket of fat under my belly button, a flat chest, a double chin, and jiggly thighs. 

I compare myself to other women I know, and I'm the smallest (other than that one that runs marathons). I hear Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada happy to be in a 4 or 6, and I'm happy for a minute, but only a minute. Kate Hudson's in a tank top on tv, and we're the same bra size. But she's so thin and petite too, I think. Not tall with a belly like mine that sticks out further than my chest. I count my calories. I think about every bite of food that passes my lips. I don't stop them from passing, but I think about them, beat myself up over the extra or unhealthy ones. I bargain for treats like ice cream: I'll eat a cup tonight, but absolutely no extras tomorrow. I spend too much time trying to find something to wear when we go out, trying to hide things that in reality don't exist.

THIS IS RIDICULOUS. And I know it is. But I don't know how to stop it. I'm becoming obsessed. I'm so afraid to gain weight, so afraid to be "ugly." I feel myself spinning out of control just a little too close to the edge, practically bingeing one day, eating 1200 calories the next.

I know better than to be anorexic or bulimic. I've known women with both and I won't go that far. I do at least have that much control. But this obsession I'm developing isn't healthy either, not for my sanity.

How do I find happiness? I've struggled with this since middle school, always feeling like less of a woman because I never developed past an A cup, and now feeling soft and pudgy too. 

Logically I know that these images to which I compare myself-- models, celebrities, even mannequins, are all underweight, and these famous women have personal trainers and dietitians watching everything they do and eat. There's no way I could live happily and be their size. I'd have to starve and workout like a mad woman. I already know I'd be hypoglycemic the first day-- I've been there before. Plus I like food, good food, rich food.

Rationally I know I'm beautiful. I turn heads. I'm thin, yes I am, I dress well, I have pretty hair, I get complements on my porcelain skin and Angelina lips all the time. A handsome man married me. There are many times I look at myself and feel really pretty and happy with myself.

But then there's naked, exposed me, analyzing every bit of myself in the mirror, looking down at my stomach and trying to suck it in, feeling like I don't measure up to a standard that, even though I know it's set way too high, I'm still struggling to reach.

I don't have to ask if anyone else feels this way. I know they do. All women do. Why do we do this to ourselves? Why? 

I want to say I'm done with this, that I'll never count another calorie or debate another bite, but I know this isn't true. But I have decided today that instead of struggling towards that unattainable goal, I'm going to struggle the other way, towards balance. I don't really know how to start-- I feel like if I did just some kind of exercise, like walking or a little Wii everyday, I'd feel better and more in balance. But I don't want anything else to feel guilty about, because if I don't start exercising I'll just be mad at myself for that too. It would help if my husband were at all interested in getting fit too. If I can just make it to spring, I'll be in the garden every weekend working hard. Maybe for now I'll just lift a little weights and do some stretching in the mornings. 

Wish me luck. Balance and self-acceptance are the new black; didn't you know?