Once a Year ... Or More

How Time Flies

Wow! Has it really been more than two years since I've posted?

So much time, and yet things seem so much the same. Funny, that.

Once again, I got together with my friend M, who is an ardent supporter of my writing, even though she hasn't read a word I've ever written. And yet I find her support so meaningful. Why is it more meaningful than the support I get from my lovely Mr. J, who has read almost every word I've ever written? (Or at least every word I've "published" online.)

Why is it so much easier for me to believe the vague praise of someone who knows so little about me, rather than accepting the wonderful praise and support I receive from someone who knows me almost better than I know myself? I won't go into my "what is wrong with me?" syndrome. But seriously. Why do I have so much trouble believing when someone I know and love supports me?

I have specific memories of my parents telling me they thought I was beautiful, funny, good, whatever. And even at the ripe old age of 7, I "knew" that they had to say that. They were my parents; I was their daughter. I mean, what could they do? Tell me I was ugly, dull, bad, etc.? I knew that parents weren't allowed to say that. So they had to be nice.

Sheesh!! How did I get so cynical at so young an age? And now, not even having kids of my own, I know, without a doubt, that they fully believed everything they were telling me. Why did I doubt them? Where did that self-doubt and self-incrimination come from? How did I know, at that young age, that when the folks on The Electric Company said there is no such thing as a stupid question, I knew they were wrong?

After all these years (40 years?!?!), I am finally coming around to the fact that my parents didn't lie to me. Whether I was truly beautiful, funny, good, whatever, or not, doesn't matter. They truly believed that, and likely still do. And my husband feels the same way. Own it, believe it, live it. That is what I am working on in this life. And I have come so far. I almost fully believe it all now. But there is still that little voice .... who are you to believe it all??

I am me. I am beautiful. I am funny. I am good. I am strong.

And I am.

And that is enough.

Traveling with My Aunt

I've been writing about this trip on my other, more public, family blog, in my own handwritten journal, in emails, on Facebook and Instagram, and even on Twitter, I think. So what the heck? Let's start another record of it all.

The GMT Tour of Europe has been more than I expected. I was excited about the trip but very hesitant. My aunt and I get along great, but we've never spent more than a night or so together, at least not in our adult lives. But it turns out that our personal modes of travel mesh pretty well, and we've seen and tasted and smelled and heard more than I might have otherwise. Now that we are on our last day, it's hard to believe or even remember everything we've experienced. Lucky for us, she is keeping an extremely detailed and entertaining documentation of everything we've done from Day 1. I haven't read any of the missives home yet; I've just heard extracts as she types them up. But I know I will someday, as it will be a great way to reminisce about all we did.

But as I knew from the beginning, this is not my trip. We are not here to explore little nooks and crannies or to buy fruit juice from a street vendor or to hike up mountains or to sit on secluded beaches or to roam through book stores or to sit in a bar listening to the local music or to try some new exotic food from a hole-in-the-wall cafe on a deserted street, as I am often known to do. Instead, I am a tag-along traveling companion. [Caveat: I am not complaining. How could I, when I barely shelled out a dime for any of this in relation to all that she has paid? But I certainly have a better understanding of what it was that ladies-in-waiting did back in the days of royalty. (Perhaps there still are ladies-in-waiting. If so, my heart goes out to them.)] I have been on my best behavior for the majority of this trip. And I've probably dressed better and been better put together than on any of my other journeys, which is probably not a bad thing at all. It definitely made for better photos. But I am the keeper of maps, the finder of information, the navigator, the wine carrier/pourer (sommelier?!), the research assistant, the bus/tram/ferry/train/subway finder, the captive and appreciative audience, the travel adviser, the not-so-great translator of menus/signs/conversations. Again, I am not complaining, as I essentially have been paid to do that ... sort of like a chaste kept woman?!?

Actually, come to think of it, I am the Mark of this trip. I can even point out our hotel when looking back on the city from a hilltop and find my way home from any outing, no matter how twisty the roads. Hmmm, don't tell my husband, as now he'll expect me to be like this on all of our upcoming trips!

Writing and all that

Huh ... apparently, if you hit the wrong combination of keys, blogger will just post a blog post before you've written any more than the title. Things you learn when going on autopilot with the typing and the key strokes and all that. Of course, I have no idea what I did, so right now, there's just a blank post floating on my page.

And of course, it doesn't really matter, because in a matter of moments, I will finish vomiting out these words, hit the update button, and call it a night.

This writing thing is work. I'm not even out there as a writer, and it's keeping me up in bed wondering what the heck I am doing. So I crawled out of be and came down here to get it out of my head in the hopes that now I can get some sleep so that tomorrow I'll have enough brain cells to do my other job.

There's nothing new to report from here. The Blue Dog trainer showed up today, and I think maybe she should just take our dog away. Within the first seconds, our little devil knew all the commands and did just as she was supposed to. Of course, once Saint Trainer Lady left, it wasn't all so peachy keen easy ... though there were baby steps of progress. How can a total stranger have such a soothing effect on our dog? Are we really that anxious, neurotic, weird that our dog picks up on all that and freaks out when we make any sudden movements?

I guess we are.

I have no witty conclusion to this post. No final words of wisdom. My brain is shutting down. So I'm thinking the word vomit worked. G'nite and sleep well.

(I would just save this without posting it, but I don't even know how to do that. And for whatever reason, I feel compelled to post this rather than just hitting cancel. Oh, vanity.)

What a Difference a Week Makes

I didn't even make it a week on this year's Bon Appetit cleanse. My main excuse is that the recipes just weren't inspiring me. Some were quite tasty, but several were just plain blah. Or maybe the funk from last week dragged me down (more likely). Of course, it didn't help that last week some girlfriends and I had a cooking night. I made the ramen soup (which, all in all, wasn't that bad in terms of health--well, the carmelized pork probably isn't what health food nuts would agree to, but it's protein, right!?). It was actually the 40+ potstickers and the two bottles of wine we devoured that put me over the edge. But it was all so dang tasty. Then Saturday morning, Mr. J and I made the trek to Emmett, Idaho, to try out a diner spot that had some dang-tasty homestyle potatoes and delicious homemade sourdough bread. OK, we didn't drive all that way just for breakfast. (1) We were hoping to escape the dismal inversion that has settled over southwest Idaho. Unfortunately, Emmett suffers from the same blah grayness that exists everywhere else around here. (2) After breakfast, we headed to the Canyon County Humane Shelter to meet this little girl:

Hello, Bella Blue. We finally caved, after a year-plus of dog-free living. She's a sweetie but needs a little work on the dominance side (she thinks she is in charge). I love having her, but she makes me miss Kai even more. He had his issues, but he is still number one in my heart (after Mr. J, of course ... at least most of the time).

Anyway, I've been a little stressed out about her issues and how we are going to deal with them. Plus I'm not sure taking on this new job has been the smartest thing, so that's on my brain all the time. Add that to my usual level of nervousness and you have the perfect storm for my stupid skin issues to come roaring back with a vengeance. Dumb inverse psoriasis!! And my toe is still sore ... I went from neuroma and gout ideas to a downright fear that it might be psoriatic arthritis (do NOT look that one up). Now I've concluded that I probably just have a minor ingrown toenail that got beat up on New Year's Eve, when I walked two miles in heels. So heat and soaking in epsom salts and massage seem to be working. Just not fast enough. Anyway, my God, how old am I?! I've just spent an entire paragraph on all my aches and pains!? Soon I'll be discussing my bowel movements!

Before I go there, I'll state here that I am officially doing a real cleanse/elimination diet. I know, I know. I couldn't even stick to a fake cleanse for more than a week. How am I going to survive 21 days of no eggs, corn, gluten, dairy, sugar, soy, or nuts--or alcohol? Good question! But I am going to try in the hopes that I can determine what is causing my stupid aches and pains. I will also start working out again, even if I can't put full pressure on my big toe. As my good friend reminded me, it's not like I can't do sit ups and push ups or even swimming. I just used my toe and my grumpy mood to throw in the towel on everything.

But this is a new week, so here I am, flitting on to the next thing that will cure me of all of what ails me! I know that no one reads this (thank goodness for that), but I am hoping that having it out in public (sort of) will keep me somewhat accountable. Here's hoping!

Monday, Moanday

I am in a f-u-n-k today. We hiked yesterday (nearly 5 miles on icy-slick trails), and now I am paying the price. There is something wrong with my big toe ... after lengthy Internet research, I've narrowed this mystery pain down to anything from turf toe (yes, there really is such a thing, and it bring to mind a gangrenous Astroturf-green toe) to a neuroma to gout. Ah, the miracles of Web-enabled self-diagnosis. But none of those diagnoses have made the pain go away, and thanks to that pain, I walked all of those nearly 5 miles with a funky gait, which means that today, my entire left leg hurts, from my stupid big toe, around my ankle, up the outside of my calf, through my aching knee, and into my hip/lower back. That old song sure is true, the toe bone is connected to every other freakin' bone in my body. Of course, that pain didn't stop me from hiking yesterday. And neither did it keep me from braving this dismal gray frozen-rain weather to head to the gym for "athletic conditioning." If I'd known what a helluva class that was going to be, I might have just stayed in bed. And that would have been a brilliant option, because stupid big toe still hurts, which means I did many of the exercises while favoring one leg. Guess what hurts even more today than yesterday ... my entire left leg!

But there is a faint silver lining to the endless gray sky overhead. My neighbor is a physical therapist, and she has generously agreed to check it all out and see what I can do to make it better. This does not bode well for my planned "five days straight of exercise." I guess I'll just put that New Year's resolution off until next week.

In other news, I'm sticking to the BA meal plan fairly closely. Unfortunately the beverage plan is a little off-kilter. We're just too dang social, and I seem to find it impossible to sit around the dinner table with friends with anything but a bottle of wine (or three) in front of my face. And the morning lattes seem to be a necessity on these bleak days (did I mention it is absolutely glum outside? hello, Inversion).

So my moaning is over. Here's to better and brighter days ahead.

Smells Like Christmas

I have spent the better part of the past 3 hours cooking, cleaning, making shopping lists, and all around trying to get organized for the weekend. This is what the folks at Bon Appetit do to me. This little "cleanse" requires a ridiculous amount of thinking and planning, even though they pretty much spell it all out for you. I don't want to do one big shop for the week, because I know that as much as I say I am going to stick to this plan, shit comes up. So I'm plotting out three days at a time, which means going through each recipe and making a list of what I'll need through Sunday. So much for BA's handy-dandy shopping list.

But the house smells delish ... roasted beets with rosemary and thyme and some kind of squash raisin compote that is filling the house with the mouth-watering aromas of cinnamon and cloves. Smells like Christmas, but without the cookies!

A case in point of not all things going to plan: Tonight, after we enjoy our healthy snapper and chard, we will be trekking up the hill for a hilarious night of Cards Against Humanity. Is it wrong that I love that game so much!? I am bringing along the BA dessert for tonight ... how can you go wrong with Spicy Orange Hazelnut Chocolate Bark (oh, how I love BA's idea of a cleanse!! so so so much better than cabbage smoothies and plain broth)? The trouble with tonight is that I know I will indulge in my week's "allotment" of four alcoholic beverages in one night.

Oh well, it's the intention of it all, right? It's not like it's a doctor-prescribed program.

Other than that, all is well in the world ... mostly. I need to sort out stuff in my head and ratchet up my libido after the lethargy of the holidays. Gotta keep Mr. J and me happy! Of course, my idea of one way to keep me happy is to get me one of these:

Who looks an awful lot like this old guy, who I miss so much:

The first little guy, who I call Chester Part 2 (after the gorgeous fellow in the second picture), followed Mr. J into the house the other day. He explored all around, ate some canned crab, and then asked to be let out again. So polite. Today as I went out to check the mail, he followed me right inside. After another lunch of crab, he curled up on my lap and promptly fell asleep, purring away. I am in love! But he obviously belongs to someone in the 'hood, so when he loitered around the front door again, I let him out, and off he ran.

I'm thinking Chester Part 2 is one smart kitty who knows a good thing when he finds it. I wonder how many other homes he hits up during his daily wanderings!