Stop Listening and Start Living...

Women...SERIOUSLY...can we just give the marketing and advertising execs and their fawning teams and minions the finger already?? Can we just tell them to get lost and get a life, and that we aren't interested in what they are selling? Do you really want to continue on some masochistic regimen to keep up with the Joneses...the Joneses in Hollywood no less??

I read an article tonight about women and beauty and how they are influenced by the standards that outside parties set, and very definitely by the small, and sometimes large, indiscretions that come out of the mouths of the people around them.

I wish more women would realize that they are fabulous just the way they are.
I wish that they would take confidence in the accomplishments that they have already had.
I wish they would listen less to the false clamorings of marketing and advertising and movie stars and rock stars and the talking heads on morning news talk shows.

Here is the article:
http://www.danoah.com/2010/10/worthless-women-and-men-who-make-them.html

Of course we want to look our best, but that's not what I'm talking about and everyone knows it. I'm talking about meeting up to some plastic infested expectation.

• I'm talking about a face and/or a body that is photoshopped to the point of "0" and anorexic fright.
• I'm talking about fear and loathing. I'm talking about fear and loathing to the point of anorexia and bulimia or overeating and other anti-social self destructive behaviors.
• I'm talking about being embarrassed about your body and missing out on life because someone might see your thighs jiggle while you are running down to the ocean or are hiking to a mountain top.
• I'm talking about being afraid that your spouse won't want to touch your post-pregnancy body or that they will be grossed out by the fact that **gasp** you've aged during the course of your 25 years of marriage.

Here is my opinion...tamed down from the bulletted peppering of adult words that this topic always brings to mind:

I learned a long time ago that you have to be happy with yourself because you will never measure up to the unrealistic expectations that some have of you. They make it unrealistic so you *can't* achieve it and so they will feel better about themselves.

In marketing and advertising they want your money--that's all. They don't want to be your friend or give you a leg up on the competition. They want your $$. If they make you feel less secure about yourself, or like you are missing some attribute, that if you can just reach whatever standard that they have set, that life will be perfect, that you will be eternally desired and sexy and that nothing bad will ever happen to you, they win.

They win because then you spend your hard earned money on their products which will never bring you eternal youth, or endless happiness, or perfection in your relationships with your loved ones. At the end of the day, you're still stuck with the juggling of your own life and trying to make everything balance out. You may have silkier hair or smooth legs, but you've still got your problems to solve, your relationships to manage.

You can't make anyone else happy, you can only be your best self, because you're the one who knows how best to be you.

I learned that even though words sting and bite and bruise, that it is only permanent if you let it take up residence and you start to believe it.

I don't know about any of you, but I don't have a personal trainer or chef, I don't have my own photographer who walks around with me making sure that I am always in the perfect light. I don't have a bank full of money to pay a posse of professionals to make me something that everyone else wishes that they were.

This doesn't mean that you don't take care of yourself the best you can, or that you don't try to improve on perhaps not-so-stellar habits that you've picked up along the way...it just means that you do your best, you are your best, and you're happy and joyful and you are confident in knowing that you are a wonderful human being.

For myself, at the beginning of the day...and at the end of the day...I'm just me. I'm just Tracy, and frankly, if that isn't good enough for someone else...I've realized that they can piss off because I'm not interested in the misery that they are selling. I know who I am and I'm happy with that person...even if she needs to exercise more and maybe eat more carrots and less chocolate. ;)

Of Trash Cans and Stars

October 26, 2010
545am

My Beloved forgot to put out the trash so he called me as he drove in to work to ask if I could do it. Of course, I replied.

I bundled myself out of my warm bed and into a warm coat and flip flops and hustled sleepily outside.

I checked the trashes, and dragged the one full bin noisily behind me. 

Halfway down the driveway, as the wind whistled through the trees, I looked up into the still-night sky, and stopped--stunned at the sight that my sleepy eyes saw.

There hung the moon, bright and shining full of her shadows, all clearly visible. Orion was tilted on his side, every star utterly bright and so crystal clear, that had I been tall enough I could have reached out my hand and plucked them like jewels from that navy blue velvet upon which they must be pinned. 

To the left, to the right and scattered all around, like diamonds carelessly thrown aside, were many other stars, equally shining, equally bright, all begging to be plucked. And all along and around were bustling storm clouds, lit up by the moonglow in such a way as to not seem real. They were not smudged or blurred in their lines but so well defined as to appear perfectly delineated, so perfect that this night sky in all it's glory seemed like a movie that had been touched up as to have no errors.

And so I stood there, in my flip flops, pajamas and coat--I stood there in this late October night's wind--and I gaped and sighed in awe of this early morning gift, that had Beloved remembered the trash, I never would have seen.

I finished rolling the trashcan out to the street, placing it just so, glancing up at the sky again and again, not believing the beauty of the moment and having to check and make sure that it was real.  

I threw my gaze around to my mostly sleeping neighborhood. Most houses dark or just waking, the sounds of life beginning to stir, and I knew that much later the whole ambience would have been changed. I knew that mornings light, which could not be too far off, would have changed everything, and while it may have been a beautiful dawn, that I would have missed this glorious end of night.

And so I took my time, slowly walking back up the drive, my gaze firmly fixed to drink in one last glorious moment, one last great view, before I bundled and trundled and burrowed myself back into my warm home and to my still warm bed, kicking off my shoes, tearing off my coat and nose diving back into my still almost warm blankets for a quick snooze before my alarms went off and it was time to truly face the day. 

Burrowed down, eyes sleepily blinking, with a wistful smile, the backs of my eyelids still painted in moons and stars and clouds floating on a midnight blue velvet background that was too beautiful to be real, I was grateful for the forgotten trashcan.

Getting Ready for the Haunting

Well, now isn't this a delight!

My home is ready for Halloween. I'm not usually quite ready so early...but I've been working on it for awhile now.

I have decorated my home like a haunted house. I'm really excited about it!

There are cobwebs in the corners and perched delicately on the artwork hanging on the walls, there are dusty shelves and books and nooks and crannies with little guests like spider families going about their business. I have dust bunnies under beds and tucked away under furniture. I even have a spooky smiling skull in my living room. It is going to be AWESOME!!

I have spent all year getting ready for Halloween. You've got to get started early if you really want the authentic look. Dust and cobwebs can't just be added in at the last moment, I mean unless you want the store bought ones, but that just isn't the same...they are too white--too fake, if you want the authentic look, you've got to build your own--wispy and barely there and you can only see them in a certain type of light, and unless you are there at the perfect light you don't know they are there at all...it's much more mysterious!

All I need to do is play some spooky music and I'm ready to go.

...Don't forget the outside though.

I've got leaves galore, and have even managed to hang on to a few weeds for that slightly unkempt look...like I said...this year...I'm taking the prize.

There is also probably a skeleton in a closet somewhere and if I can avoid the bowling ball landing on my head when I peer into an overstuffed closet maybe I will find it!

So...yard sale anyone??

:D

Hey Baby Girl--You Are Dying.

Heart of Gold by Shannon Grisham

I had a dr.'s appointment yesterday...and apparently I'm going to really need to change some of my habits. I'm so super excited about it I can hardly stand it. /sigh.

This is all because of blood pressure. My blood pressure has always been pretty good in the past, but apparently not the recent past as in the past couple of months it's been on the high side. Well...let's be completely honest shall we...it has been a little higher than I would have liked for longer than that, just not a lot higher.

Oh you want numbers do you? I use to be 124/80 always. Then a couple of years ago I was generally 128/84 and this year I have been between 128-132/84-ish. Yesterday...not good. I was 165/90...twice. So, I'm dying.

My doctor fixed me with that one doctor look they have, and you know "Oh my. Here it is...here it comes. He's trying to decide how to be kind but firm...here it comes down the pike...YES! It's here." And he's telling me, you need to exercise 4 times a week for 40 minutes each day and get your heart rate up to 150 BPM's. (Oh yes, I just said BPM...if you don't attend the doctor because you are in extraordinary condition, or perhaps complacent and just don't care, BPM=Beats Per Minute.)

I told him I was walking and etc., and he said "O.K. that's good. Baby steps are great, but you need to step it up a little. No running, but the ellyptical would be a great way to get what you need." My baby steps are not good enough. Boo.

So, I need to dust off my gym membership...it's somewhere with my swim bag...which is...hmmmmm...oh yeah...I think it's in the bottom of my closet where I put it this summer after my last venture out to the pool.

Here I go wrapping my brain around all of the changes that will need to take place.

Yay. Go me.

If you need a walking partner I'm your girl and please do not offer me anything that tastes good or has any flavor, because I will have to reject your hospitality and that will make me sad. But hey...if you have a celery stick...or maybe some escarole with a squeeze of lemon and some water on the side...I'm your girl for lunch. Is this chickie a little despondent and bitter...not too much...just a little bit. I'll get over it.

It's not that I don't want to be healthy and do all this stuff, because I do, I always do, I DO. It's just uber frustrating when you work so hard and you get little to no return on your efforts. But, if I want to live happily and healthfully it's something I need to do...and I do...I want to live! Maybe that will be my mantra "I WANT TO LIVE!!! LIIIIIIIIIVVVVVVVEE!!" Kind of like Frankenstein in Van Helsing. Franken-Tracy...only I have no bolts in my neck...and I was born of one person, y'know...not, like, 8. And the shunning...yeah...I don't have that either.

Anyway, so the doctor told me to go light on the salt. I must have had an odd look on my face because I'm not a salt hog. I enjoy salt but I'm not a super-salter or a regular salty snack eater...except for that one time a few weeks ago where I polished off the remainder of some Lays Vinegar Potato Chips while watching an intense movie...I didn't eat the whole bag or half a bag or anything p-i-g hoggish like that...but I did have enough to rough up the top of my mouth...ANYWAY...the doctor told me "Anything that tastes really great, usually has quite a bit of salt, so fast food and restaurant food are typical culprits." We don't do either as much as we use to but it still happens sometimes, so In-N-Out Burgers...it is with a tear in my eye that I say goodbye...at least for a little while.

Now, my doctor is super fit, post-military guy, probably in his mid-late 30's--just to set the stage and he says the following which gives me a ridiculous little bead of hope, who knows why... "I use to take blood pressure medicine. Now, I get up everyday at 4 a.m." I blink at him...he sees me blink. "4 a.m. is painful. It's painful to everyone, no exceptions. I get up and I go work out on my ellyptical in my basement for 40 minutes. I do it, because I don't want to be on pills. If I stop exercising for 2 weeks, I have to go back on medication. So to answer your question, no, you don't have to be on these pills for the rest of your life. It's your choice." Indeed. It is my choice.

I feel so stupid. I have been careless and I feel stupid because of that. I always thought I was doing moderately o.k. Not phenomenal, but o.k. There is heart disease in our family--but it always happens to the older people in the family and when you're young, you don't realize that 50's, 60's and 70's aren't that old, that's still a lot of life left. When you're young you think time in limitless and that age is far away. Have you ever realized ex post facto that perhaps you should have acted sooner, or changed your course earlier? Yeah. I'm there.

So here I am. I am embarking on a new path. It's a shift, a change, but needed. I'm going to be on these pills for awhile, while I get my regimen orchestrated and up and running. I can do this. I can. I can do this and it will make a difference. This doesn't have to be fatal or permanent.

This is not going to be easy but I'm determined not to die...at least not yet. Dramatic...maybe...but sometimes looking at the extremes with a little drama tossed in for good effect works for me to help me focus. Here I go...I'm jumping in. See you on the flip side of fitness. :D

I. Can. Do. It.

Ugh.

Would You Like a Shake to Go With Your Sciatica?

I’m eating my yogurt, because it’s healthy. And I’m thinking, because I need some free-range brain time. And in my thoughts I’m wondering where I’m going and what I’m doing next. I’m thinking these things because I haven’t figured it the hell out already and this is my task this year. Some tasks take a little longer than others especially when you’re working on what you’ve done so far and what you want to do with the next half of your life. I’ve got ideas and notions and some things are starting to gel but it’s not done cooking, it’s still pretty soft and liquidy in the middle. I'm looking at the toothpick and thinking another few months in the oven should do it. Should be a pretty good cake when it is finally set.

Sometimes I think perhaps I’m simple. I’m simple in my thoughts and desires. I use to want to be a lawyer and then a politician. I had an agenda and I wanted to save the world—change the world—help the world. Now, I want to make jewelry and work in my garden and go swimming in the ocean everyday and the thought of politics literally turns my stomach and gives me a headache. I still want to help people though, that hasn’t changed.

I want to make a comfortable living for myself and my family. I’d like a new(er) car and I’d like not to be bossed around by someone else’s timetable, unless of course I’ve contracted with them on an amazing project.

What has happened to me?

This is why you choose a profession in your early 20’s—because that is when you are gung ho and you want to make a big splash on the scene of life. You are full of vim and vigor and you’re chomping at the bit to be cut loose and free on the world.

By the time you hit your 30’s you’ve learned. You know that there are a lot of a-holes out there and that they are only out to get theirs. But that’s o.k. because you are solidly into being an adult and you are hitting your stride. You’re confident and you can tell people “No.” mostly without feeling guilty.

Then come the crazy 40’s where you know that people in their 20’s are full of energy but are mostly still crazy kids running around learning on everybody else and are still maturing and trying to figure it out, but that’s o.k. because they are doing all of the footwork saving the world and making changes that need to get done. You know that in your 30’s (which you liked) you thought you just didn’t quite have it, you weren’t quite there yet, and you realize now that you really did have it all and you’re sorry you’re not still there. In your 40’s, you know who you are and what you think and you’re confident in that. At the same time your life is tipped and off kilter and though you know who you are you realize that you really know nothing at all and it is disconcerting.

You find yourself trying to eat healthy, and the shake you bought with dinner last night? Yeah, it was too big and you took a few bites and then got some Saran wrap out and wrapped it up and stuck it in the freezer thinking “I can’t eat that this late, it’s going to give me wicked heartburn. What was I thinking??”…oh yeah, that was me last night. ;)

All of the sudden you have these aches and pains and silver hairs and a wrinkle here and there. After sitting too long you try to stand up and you feel crippled and you’ve got to stretch and shake it all out. Then there is the time when you’re at the grocery store looking for the items on your list, and you realize you can’t quite read what is on the very bottom row of the shelves and you think “What the hell?...what does that say?” to the sudden realization of “What is it I’m looking for? to the tune of “Holy sh** I’ve become my parents.”

I gave a talk in church a couple of months back. I wasn’t wearing my contacts and was in glasses. I thought I looked nice and I was prepared and ready to go. I get up to give my talk and realize that “Houston, we have got a very serious problem here.” I could see the audience just fine with my glasses on, but transitioning down to my written pages…yeah, that was not working out so well and with the microphone in the way, that added a third dimension that was not usually an issue when I’ve worn contacts while giving a talk.

So while I’m kicking off my speech, I’m panicking deep down in the inner reaches of my rib cage. My heart starts thudding and I’m feeling slightly ill and thinking “I can’t see, what am I going to do???” and simultaneously “Keep it together girl, you can do this, figure it out and for goodness sake get that heartbeat under control so you’re not the chubby lady with the happy smile who keeled over at church while talking about being kind and loving Jesus! You’ll scar the children. Think of the children!”

So I’m working it out and peeking beneath my glasses and over my glasses and then I realize I’m touching my glasses, a big no-no because that can become a twitch and a habit and you don’t want to distract from what you are saying. So I put my hands down and pushed forward. My solution? I had to suck it up and work it out—as in I had to work around my aging eyes and glasses and microphone without looking like an idiot. I couldn’t take the glasses off, because that would have just been odd to have everyone in the audience be super fuzzy and it would have been distracting, so I just paced myself, and focused my brain on the task at hand and got it done. The talk went well, I wasn’t lost in translation but I did vow to never wear glasses for public speaking again.

And do you see these last few paragraphs? Complaining about my aging which is what old people do all the time. “My sciatica!”; “Oy, my cataracts!’; “My bunions!”; “I can’t eat onions anymore! It gives me gas.” Which when you hear that from your grandpa, you’re like “Geez, grandpa—TMI!! Sheesh!” or whatever it is that each individual has as their complaint.

I’ll bet you didn’t know that at 40 there is some kind of inner alarm clock that booms and everybody running the inner machine thinks “Phew! I have been WAITING for this coffee break!” and they go off duty and they’re smokin’ and jokin’ out back, and meanwhile you’re waking up overnight with aches and pains you never could have imagined and you truly feel your mortality—which alarms you and gives you a little kick of panic and so you think “Crap—I really need to get it together and start exercising more and taking care of myself. “

Which brings us back around to the eating healthy, and the thought that I had in the first place when I started writing this up…Where am I and what have I come to when I’m thinking the following…

Dannon’s Light and Fit Vanilla Yogurt is unexpectedly delightful and palatable. I’m shocked that 80 calories could taste this good…I know…I sound like a commercial but I mean it…or maybe I’m just really hungry…because I’m old and I eat lunch at 11:00 a.m. and dinner at 5:00 with the Golden Girls.

1979 and a Big Lifelong Love Affair

Mom & Dad & Me: 1976

I'm building a new playlist tonight to put on the ole' blog here--something autumnal and delightful and I've been bouncing all over Playlist.com while doing it.

It doesn't really matter how I got to the website... "The Top 100 Seventies Singles," what matters is all of the awesomeness that I found there. What matters is the re-acquaintance with all types of auditory delights from my childhood. What matters is that I remembered that my parents use to go Disco Dancing down in Brazil...yup...my parents did a little titch of clubbing in their time.

What matters is I remember the crazy love my parents were in when I was a little kid.

In 1979 my mom was a goddess and my dad was the world. They were perfect and bigger than life, because frankly, you're little--and they are your life. They are your tether to food, clothing, roof, love and everything else you need and want--they can crush you and you're glad when they don't.

Before I digress too far along, these are the Top 10 Singles of 1979:

1."My Sharona" - The Knack
2."Le Freak" - Chic
3."Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" - Rod Stewart
4."Bad Girls" - Donna Summer
5."YMCA" - Village People
6."Reunited" - Peaches and Herb
7."Ring My Bell" - Anita Ward
8."I Will Survive" - Gloria Gaynor
9."Too Much Heaven" - Bee Gees
10."Hot Stuff" - Donna Summer

Oh, I know every one of these songs--and I have loved them for over 30 years. Yes, I know I just totally dated myself but who cares, I've decided to embrace my age, I've earned it and there is no time machine, and because of that--time marches on and waits for no man or balking woman.

Anyway...

I remember my mom getting dressed up in this beautiful pink ensemble and stiletto dancing heels, her hair curled and fluffed, her makeup on, and her lipstick just so, waiting to go out with my dad. I remember my dad coming home and getting ready to go out and he always smelled so good when he would hug us goodnight as they were ready to head out. His suit jacket making that one rustley sound of the lining against the fabric, and his beard tickling my face.

I remember how my mom's eyes would sparkle and she would be all smiles and off they would go-- leaving smatterings and twinklings of the excitement (that those who are heading out to a party and a great evening have)along with a touch of eau de parfum in their wake as the door closed behind them.

What's not to love about a night out, dressed to the nines, with your love, good food, good music and dancing? If you haven't ever done it...might be something new to try out.

Now, don't fool yourself that good times dancing were reserved for outside of the home only...nah, nah, nah--there was plenty of twirling, dancing, dipping, laughing and all manner of music and mayhem in the house. My dad would come downstairs, usually on a Saturday morning, and the music would come on and it was so much fun.

Now kids--this was back in the day, back in olden times, where you had a lot of records, still used a record player, and if you were lucky, and oh yes we were, you just might have a reel-to-reel player in your house. These were pre-CD/pre-iPod and etc., days.

On these Saturday mornings, with sun streaming in through all of the windows, breakfast smells wafting from the kitchen, the chatter of grown ups and laughter, music and dancing, you would wake up and **feel** the electricity of life coursing through you. My dad would play everything (The Doors, The Beach Boys, Santana, The Beatles, Queen, Sergio Mendes, Disco mixes, John Lennon, Elton John, Neil Sedaka, Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass Band, the soundtrack from Star Wars or The Empire Strikes Back or Raiders of the Lost Ark or The Blues Brothers or Xanadu or any number of other movies) and he would take requests, and at some point he would play the music from the Electrical Light Parade from Disneyland that he had recorded some time in 1974, and we would dance with nostalgia and delight. (Now that he is gone, the music from the Electrical Light Parade has caught me off guard to the tune of unexpectedly spilled tears...but no sadness...we're remembering sunny Saturday mornings full of joy and delight.) Music mornings make me happy to this day. Sometimes Beloved will do the same, and I'm not kidding when I say it is hand's-down, one of the most glorious and delightful ways to wake up. :D

Since I'm tripping down memory lane--my parents love for each other was constantly glowing...like a rock heated up by a bonfire that just sits there glowing and smoldering. Our house was full of "I love you's," hugs and kisses and that was just the kids. Sometimes my dad would come sweeping down into the kitchen and grab my mom around the waist and twirl her around kissing her, and if we were lucky, he would dip her, kiss her and turn and give us all a big smile and say "I LOVE YOUR MOM!" There was never any doubt that she was first in his book and that he loved her.

Growing up there was always music and good food, happiness, laughter, joy and you knew you were loved. Yeah, we got in trouble like all kids do, and just because there was a lot of laughter it doesn't mean there weren't ever bent feelers or tears, because there were...I mean I was 13 and 15 and 17 just like any other girl, but it was a good home, a good place to grow up.

One of the things I'm particularly grateful for, especially in those early formative years, was the example of love and friendship that my parents exhibited towards each other. Seeing a man and a woman who were different in so many ways, find commonalities, showing a love and interest and respect for each other, and building a life together, that was a great gift I had in my life as a child. They weren't perfect, but to me they were the world.

As I grew older I went through the usual phases of selfishness and complaint and critique like most kids do, but now that things have mellowed, now that I am the age they were when I was in my teens (my dad was 40 when I was 16 and my mom was 39) I see things a little differently. It's funny how age really does give you some perspective if you allow it to. Some of the things they did and said make sense to me now, where at the time I was outraged on a number of occasions because of their words or their actions. I get it now. If I had a 16 year old I probably would have said a lot of similar things.

A lot of things have changed and morphed through the years. My family has moved from here to there and back again. The kids have grown up, gone to school, gotten real jobs, gotten married, had kids--they are living their lives, probably loving and laughing and eating good food and simultaneously astonishing and annoying their kids just like our parents did to us. My dad has since passed on into the next great adventure after this life here on this whirling planet, and my mom is just as kooky and sweet and free-spirited as ever.

Despite all of the change though, there has been one constant through the thick and the thin alike...my parents were crazy about each other--and even though he's not around where we can talk to him and see him, I'm guessing my dad's still crazy about my mom, she's definitely still crazy about him and is holding a big, fat, brightly glowing candle full of love for him until they can be together again. I think he's probably got a big blue-green eyeball watching out for her until they meet again.

I'm glad I was blessed with their example of love and companionship and friendship. I definitely haven't come across anyone else quite like them and I'm glad that I am theirs and that they are mine.

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."--Lao Tzu

Much love Mom and Dad ~ I couldn't have become me, without you.

Ginger Ale, Dark Chocolate and a Little Reggae...

Dancing Girl--My Drawing

I am just a mellow girl tonight and I'm feeling fine, baby, just fine.

There are a lot of things that are great for a late night...Ginger Ale is one of them, so is some seriously dark chocolate with a nice bitter bite...top it off with some Reggae and some Blues...and you end up in a nice mellow happy place. Cheers to the evening.

Here are some things I'm working on that may or may not be of interest to anyone and no-one.

Reading:
The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron.
I'm loving it.
I'm writing Morning Pages, or Afternoon Pages, just depends on when I get to it. The point is that I'm getting some free write time and I'm decluttering my brain. Who knows what will come of it, but for now, I'm just enjoying the process.

Beyond Black by Hilary Mantel
I'm enjoying this. It's a good book for October, especially if you like a bit of the creepy and the spooky.
She babbles on a little here and there, but for the most part the story is dark and interesting.
What it comes down to is that it's different from the usual, so I'm enjoying the unfolding of the story.

Between, Georgia by Joshilyn Jackson
Just finished this one up for book club for October.
I enjoyed it, but then I am always intrigued by books that take place in the South. It's a place full of tradition, folklore, myth and divisive history and politics.
I've found that most of the novels that I have read that take place in the South have been books that I have enjoyed. This was another one of these.

Listening To...
Nothing that's really new right now.
Just enjoying the replay on whatever comes up on the iPod.
Tonight though, I'm enjoying some Reggae, Blues and R&B. It's mellowness all the way. Earlier, while my Beloved was still awake and with me, we were listening to some George Winston, and that made for a very pleasant earlier evening.

Missing...
... the ocean.
... California weather.
... humidity.
... youth.

Additionally...
I've been using a pedometer for about a month now.
10,000 steps a day is my ultimate goal. I'm not meeting it yet. On weekend days I average anywhere between 6,000-9,000 steps. On a weekday I average 2,500-3,500. That's a big difference. You think you're walking a lot, but really...not so much. So I'm working on that. It's a great motivator and since I'm the most competitive with my own self, it's making me push myself and giving me an actual measurement to work with. I'm enjoying it and it has been fun.

I've been busy with work and am enjoying my foray into the non-profit world. It's a different place, that's for sure. Social workers walk to their own drummer and it's not always one that I understand, and it definitely isn't always rational, reasonable or logical, but that's o.k. I'm learning a lot and I really enjoy the people that I'm working with right now. I can see that in a different life I could have taken this path too.

Life is good and busy right now. I've got some good things on the horizon and I'm sorting it out. The beginning of this year was a bit on the rough side for me, and as I'm wrapping it up here in the next few months, I've found that I've had a lot of growth and some really stellar experiences. I thought I knew what I was all about, but I'm finding that I'm in a state of flux right now, and I'm changing again. Growth always hurts and stretches and taxes but it's a good thing to go through...once you're through it. ;)

Anyway, that's it for now.

Here's the parting shot...

"Wear a smile and have friends; wear a scowl and have wrinkles. What do we live for if not to make the world less difficult for each other?" George Eliot