A change in the wind-a-comin'....

Lets see here.... a few things that really needed to get off of my chest....

1). Darn you yoga pants!!!

Every woman that happens to pass the age of (cough, cough) 40 begins to have a love affair with stretchy yoga pants.  I should know.... I am one of them.  While all comfortable and stretchy that they happen to be.... the wearer loses sight of the body's changes into the less than attractive state you used to be.  Heck, the closer to 50 you get, the weight seems to pack itself right on and not be noticed.  Eating properly goes by the wayside and suddenly your waist is no longer able to fit in your jeans without having that telltale muffin top of living life in the junk food aisle showing.  The buttons of your favorite jeans are now being tested for tensile strength to holding in now what you can only say is your full term pregnancy weight of almost 16 years ago.  Yep, simply put.... yoga pants are an aid in to getting fat.  It is the stretch in the material that allows you to eat whatever you want and remain in denial that you are getting fatter by the day.

Now, I am not saying that just eating right and exercise is going to mount to anything beyond fluctuating a 10 pound weight loss for the next 6 months when you happen to be going through my second topic of discussion....

2).  Menopause!!!  UGH!!!

I have been informed about 6 months ago that I am now within the age demographic for the female patience killer, menopause.  Heck, I even got my hormones checked and was sickened by the result.... According to the standard FSH blood test (that is, the Follicle Standing Hormone blood test, that figures the stage of menopause you happen to be in via hormone levels through a draw of blood), I happen to be "post menopausal".  WTF?!?!?!???  POST????  MENOPAUSAL?????  Well, needless to say, I was quite upset about this because my body was not exactly giving up on my monthly situation that I have had since the ripe old age of 12, I think?  Not exactly something I keep record of regardless of how many times my gynecologist asks me on the papers I am required to fill out every. stinking. time. I. go. there!  Really, my sex life is not all that it is (or was), to recall every blinking moment on a sheet of paper for it to be looked at by a doctor, nurse, or nosy medical transcription professional out there.  I think seeing the same doctor for almost 18 years and being married to the same person for just as long should be a big, neon sign that says "nothing new going on here to report thankyouverymuch".  Needless to say.... I have not been as "regular" as I was in the last 5 years or so, but it still comes from time to time.  Usually, at the worst times imaginable. Okay, back to the topic here.... Since I was told I am post menopausal, but still getting a cycle... My diagnosis changed from "post" to "peri".  Meaning, until I no longer get that visit from good old aunt Flo, I am still apparently a viable woman.  Just not as viable.  What the gynecologist did not share with me is what the body truly goes through when you are apparently menopausal.  So far, my list has been as such....

*Weight gain (well, DUH! Apparently, eating bad has a friend.... it is called hormone imbalance and it refuses to play nice with even the most proper of diet, eating like a hummingbird, and constantly moving like you are on drugs that make you twitchy if you sit for too long.  Hormones affect your metabolism and our thyroid - both tools in weight management)
*Mood swings (trust me, it is HARD to keep my moods in check)
*Itchy skin (at first, it was insane, but has tamed a little since)
*Hot Flashes (OMGoodness!  This is just AWFUL! Imagine being all comfortable and then.... BOOM!  You are sweating like a whore in church and you didn't even move.  Happens often throughout the day and not when you expect it.  All you want to do is strip off all your clothes and crank the a.c. to a polar like temperature.  Fun, right?)
*Night sweats (this is still in the not-so-frequent stage, but waking up in the middle of the night drenched like someone sprayed you down with a hose is not exactly all that fun.  Especially when your laundry loads have increased due to the number of t-shirt changes that happen because of it)
* Panic attacks (if you happen to have suffered them in the past and got them under control without medications - like me - there is an increase in generalized panic disorder relapse.  That means.... if you thought you got your mental woes under control... you are sadly mistaken and get ready to deal with those emotional bags you thought you left behind because they are back... and with a vengeance)
***  What is even more sad is that this is just the tip of the iceberg of misery that awaits me because apparently there is more to come and I learned that from my next topic of discussion.....

3).  The internet and the information it possesses

I am a curious person.  I look things up when they come to mind.  When I wanted to learn more about menopause (since I am experiencing it), I went to my good friend, Google, and basically absorbed way too much information on the subject and apparently I have come to the conclusion that I can now blame everything on menopause and from here on out.... I am one screwed pooch!

I was recently in the hospital for severe pains.  The kind of pains that had me thinking I was going to head for the pearly gates.  I could not catch my breath, I was sweating, and hurting across both the front and back of my chest.  At first, I thought it was just another one of those back spasms that I happen to get that wake me in the middle of the night.  Or at least I thought that is what it was, but when the nausea started.... I decided to pay closer attention.  The pain was becoming unbearable and not seeming like it was going to ease up any time soon.  I wanted to avoid the hospital.  I hate that place.  But sadly, the pain, the panic, and the nausea wore me out and I asked for DH to take me to the hospital.  I waited as long as I could to see if this thing would pass, but at 4:00 in the morning, I was being driven to the hospital by DH.  I got in the ER rather quickly and had hopes that they could get me fixed up and out of there just as fast, but sadly that was not the case.  The only relief I had going for me was that the immediate EKG that was taken ruled out heart attack.  DH stayed as long as he could before heading home to take care of things at home and DD.  He left shortly after I was told I was being admitted for observation and more tests.

After getting an ultrasound and an MRI (with imaging dye), the results came back with an answer that has me wondering even more....  They called it..... Non Alcohol Fatty Liver Disease (NAFLD).  Upon yet MORE internet searching, it is simply put like this.... It is the result that there is excessive fat in my liver that is usually caused by drinking too much alcohol, but since I have not had a drink in about a year.  It also is a predetermining factor for type 2 diabetes (or the risk thereof).  I am not diabetic and my cholesterol in under the limit of 200, but I do know that my triglycerides are a little high.  I am overweight and the solution to my problem?  I have to lose weight.

All I could say is.... well, DUH, Captain Obvious! I already KNOW that!  I have been battling the bulge for... ever!!  I am not anywhere near what is portrayed on magazine covers, but I am not as bad as those on disability because they cannot get out of bed, either.  I am in that median group of people struggling to at least meet the reasonable higher end of the healthy weight according to that government regulated BMI chart that my doctor has at her office.  All I can really hope for is to lose this weight and take me off the list of people getting that stamp on the bottom of my foot that says my mortality rate and date of expiration.  Sadly, now the cards are stacked against me since I get to blame a stage of life I never signed up for has arrived and causes problems like these.

This is the conclusion of the main issues I needed to get off my chest....  Now, onward to something else.....

WHEW!  What a month it has been!  Beyond my hospital stint, DD was in the hospital, too.  Just a few weeks before I landed my backside there, she went in with stomach pains, diarrhea, and nausea.  She was diagnosed with pancreatic issues.  For all intents and purposes, it looked like she had the flu, but I don't have the alphabet after my last name, nor do people call me doctor.  Lucky for her, she bounced back rather quickly, but had my head scratching at how a teenager could get a pancreatic issue if she does not drink alcohol.  Apparently, it can happen, and does to more people every day.  They called it an idiopathic occurrence and she is doing great!  She is watching what she eats and is actually eating a balanced diet like people are supposed to, but teenagers rarely consider doing that.  Heck, most teenagers opt to skip breakfast, snack whenever, and turn their noses up at a balanced meal.  Half the time it is because they never seem to have time to eat, the rest of the time it is lack of interest of what is in the fridge.  So glad she is doing better and finally eating right!  That long time battle is finally over and she finally gets it!!!  Mom finally wins a round!!

Between DD's and my stint in the hospital, our refrigerator blew up.  Not literally, but the compressor made its last attempt before making a burnt smell fill my kitchen.  DH and I were in a panic.  We just did the weeks grocery shopping the day before and really did not want to lose the food we just bought.  Not exactly budget friendly to throw away a weeks worth of food in one day to have to replace it.  Luckily, we managed to find a replacement quickly and got it home the same night.  All food was saved!!  Go us!!

Of course, with a win, there is a loss.  Our new fridge is slightly smaller than the old one and we now have less usable space.  Speaking of usable space.... I built a pantry that I have asked DH to provide me for years and I am not minding my kitchen all that much since I now have a little better organization going on.  Now, I have to tackle the challenge of cleaning out my cabinets and really getting organized.  Not so thrilled about garbage day today once I start tackling that chore.  On a final note, I was humbled and felt those warm fuzzies I used to get when DH complimented me on the good idea I had as well as the good job I did assembling said pantry.  I know how to use tools and follow instructions, but it felt good to get some accolades for my efforts.

With my kitchen getting organized and that I happen to be the only one cooking specialty diets for the family (DH needs to be low cholesterol - he has cholesterol issues, DD and I wanted low fat - hence the obvious for me -  her? - not so much), and with current time restraints on everyone (work, school and such), I thought I had a good bead on things.  Sadly, I have been either working late or going in on my days off to help over there so I thought I could make meals ahead of time.  Of course, this simple plan had its challenge added recently.... I am to cook only individual servings for everyone since we are all watching our weight.  DD really does not have a weight issue (her BMI is perfect).  It is her father and I that have the battle ahead of us.  Sadly, food does not come in serving sizes divisible by 3 and I have been utilizing my measuring cups, scales and whatnot to make this work.  Bulking up ground chicken, turkey, or in the rare occurrences sirloin with shredded vegetables to meet the weight requirement to make something that serves normally 4 into something that serves 6 and divide that into two separate meals that do not repeat themselves.  Yep, I am about to get the slide rule and abacus out to explain my methods, but the challenge is not to only make individual servings of balanced meals with the correct fat contents.... I am to make sure we do not have leftovers that end up getting thrown out at the end of the week.  That is really controlling the budget to a whole new level.  Just thinking about the power cook session I will be doing today has me wanting to take a nap.  Could be that, or the fact I have given up soda completely for the past 3 days (I am on day 4 today), and only drinking water... plain water (blech).

Sorry for the ramblings, but here is yet another moment of the warm fuzzies coming....  Before landing in the hospital, I purchased some covered, dividable containers for the meals I am preparing.  Kind-of like looks like TV dinners when you see it.  Each container has an individual serving of a meal prepared within the guidelines set before me.  all that needs to be done is reheating your meal and eating it.  I started doing that with a power cook session Wednesday night and by Thursday morning (and I mean the wee hours), I landed in the hospital and left my family to fend for themselves with the assured mind that the rest of the week's dinners were there for their consumption.  For added measure on preparation, I made DD's lunch for her first day of school and that was sitting in the fridge alone with her freezer lunch bag chilling in the freezer.  Talk about being on my game!  I was supermom and superwife all in one!  When I did come home from the hospital (this is the warm fuzzies part), I got hugs from BOTH my teenage daughter AND my husband with words of appreciation that I am feeling better and back home.  How sweet was that???  Oh, and both DD and DH are stepping up to help more.  DH has been helping with the dishes, DD is helping with the household chores, DH is helping me be motivated to move more (not like I wasn't moving in the first place) by going for evening walks with me, and DD is doing what she can to keep me positive that things will get better instead of being the sullen teenager she tends to be.  Who knew?  The things I do before landing me in the hospital would have both people in my life appreciating me a little more for what I do and wanting to keep me around a bit more.

Well, I have taken up enough time.  Thanks for reading!!!

Not so sure WHAT to think... (an experience at the local 7-11)

Today, I decided to take it easy and try to get all my errands done early, but alas, an early afternoon call resulted in me making yet another errand run for supplies. (sigh)  So, after DD goes out to hang with friends for a while, I decided to motivate myself to get back in my truck and run to one of the local beauty supply places I go to for supplies for a client (aka my early afternoon call).  Since I was already out of the house, I figured I would stop at the local 7-11 and get something to drink.

The local 7-11 convenience store is filled with teenage kids loading up on frozen treats on this nice, summer day.  Well, only one teenager was there with a mission at hand to achieve and that mission was witnessed by me and it got me thinking.......

Poor kid, probably not a day over 16, is purchasing a box of condoms and the look on his face was priceless!  It was a cross between embarrassment and boastful pride.... apparently this little youngster had some serious plans for later (if you catch my drift).  While I am relieved that this is a sign of a responsible member of the horizontal activities club, I am also reminded that the teenage years are the most difficult.  It is all that love in the air being tossed about with zero clue what love really means and the differing expectations of people.  In the mindset of a girl (well, hello! I happen to be a girl, so I am aware of this part of the thought process...), the act of sex (yep, I said sex) is seen as a serious commitment between two people in love.  While at that young age, what they believe is true love is nothing more than hormonal lust and desire.  It sadly takes roughly until they are in their 30's to figure that out.  Hmmm.... I think I recall telling DD she couldn't date until she is in her 30's.... I think I need to remind her again why I would prefer to have her not date until she is at least 30 years old. (food for thought)  Now, in the thought process of a boy (remember, I am only assuming here... and these thoughts appear to be accurate), boys have a far lower thought process of what love truly is and having sex (yep, I said it again) is some kind of rite of passage into being one of the cool guys out there (aka a player, or you can add a little slang to it and call him a play-ya).  Sadly... heck, even more sadly... most boys lack acknowledging true love until they are darn near 40 (and that is a very small window because I believe DH hit his midlife crisis or change of life just before he hit 50).  While I know that not all men go from adolescent to adult and then back to adolescent in the same time frame, but I have yet been able to meet a man that has the ability to truly know what the difference between love and sex is.  In simpler terms.... Women see sex as making love and men don't.  So, seeing this young man (I will call him that on the sole premise he is being responsible with buying the condoms), had me thinking.

In all honesty, I cannot give you a solid answer to how I really feel about seeing a teenage boy buy buying condoms at the local 7-11 in the late afternoon.  Part of me is laughing at the idea that this kid thinks he is going to get "lucky", but another part of me feels concerned... the idea of doing something as serious as being intimate with someone is seen as an adult act and in my eyes... he is not old enough for something like that (at least mentally).  Then, I became concerned for the person that was not with him in the store buying those things.... what about the other person?  Are they sure that this is the right thing to be doing?  Are they strong enough to carry the burden of being talked about behind their back?  Girls won't kiss and tell, but boys are known for boasting and bragging to their friends.  Maybe this boy is sincere, but maybe he is not.  I have heard stories (and heck, have experienced it myself), of the ultimatum game (If you love me, you will have to prove it), or the play of emotions game (Let me show you how much I love you)... peer pressure at its finest.

Of course, I do have to acknowledge one other thing and it happens every day with every person on some level..... It is the desire to be desirable.  Magazines peddle the scene and people eat it up with a spoon.  Looking a certain way may make a person feel good about themselves, but it can send a very wrong message toward others.  That level of expectation based upon how a person looks has me concerned.  While a girl may feel good running around in a bikini, I guarantee that there are boys getting an eye full of lusty thoughts and some of the bikinis I saw this summer had less coverage than the underwear I have on.  Obviously, I put my foot down when it came to DD's swimwear selection (she has a one-piece), and I am the judge of what she wears outside my home.  I am not afraid to tell her my reasons why I am this way.  She might argue with me, but when she gets older.... she will understand and then thank me... I hope.

It is a scary world we live in.  That is all I can say about it.  What I recall as innocence of youth is tainted in many shades of grey and I am cynical enough to see them all, sarcastic enough to laugh over the discomfort that kid suffered buying condoms, and scared enough to seriously consider to chain myself to DD in order to protect her from what I am calling "the hormonal years".  Fortunately, I am open enough to talk to DD about these things and to remind her that love, only the truest and purest form of love, is not measured in putting out.  It is measured in patience and respect.  Oh, and I told her that regardless of the "rain gear" he wears... he better have a wedding ring for her, a steady job, and a firm understanding of what a commitment means because condoms are not 100%... only abstinence is.  If he believes she is worth it... then he can wait until marriage.  If not.... then he is not worthy.

Thanks for reading!  Have a great day!!    

The breaking point....

Have you ever hit a point in your life where you just happen to just lose your firm hold of patience?  I know I have.  Of course, I have no doubt everyone has, but have you ever really paid attention to when that snapping point has occurred?  As the old saying goes....."That was the straw that broke the Camel's back", we tend to all have that moment happen.  It all varies in degrees ranging from a simple eye roll to hugging yourself in the corner of a padded room.  The verbal action can range from silent to screaming, or even to motor-boarding your bottom lip and swearing in tongues.  That pressure valve on the proverbial pressure cooker of one's self needing to ease the pressure from within. 

Of course, as we all strive to keep a level head at all times, we tend to shy away from letting that pressure cap pop off and really let the steam fly to get the needed release we so desperately seek in order to feel calm again.  Some call this hitting your threshold of patience and understanding, but lets be honest here.... it is not actually hitting a threshold as it is breaking through a barrier that separates inaction from action.  

Here is what brings this topic to blog-worthy status today.....

Just this past weekend, I was sick and not some easy-peasy little sniffle with a cute little sneeze attached... nooooooo, this was the NAPALM of attacks.  It hit hard and fast.  I did not have a chance to foresee the magnitude until it was too late and darn near passed out at the wheel on my way to see a doctor or anyone with a medical degree that could get me hooked up with the necessary medicine to battle the cold (which became a bronchial AND sinus infection in less than 24 hours from the acknowledged onset).  Believe me... I am still not at 100%.  I still feel weak and tired, but the antibiotics are finally doing something as well as the decongestant sprays and oral decongestant I needed in order to feel somewhat functioning again.  Needless to say, I was nowhere near my A-game of attitude.  Heck, to be honest.... I would have needed a map, a GPS, a compass, and a Sherpa to get me even close to familiar territory. 

Knowing I was so far out of my element, I hoped and prayed that my family would step up and take the reigns of what was needed to be done in my absence.  I probably should have prayed harder, but I was just too worn out to do more than I did, but alas, my family stayed true to protocol and expected me to do everything.  I barely managed to make dinner on Saturday night.  When Sunday came about.... I was completely useless.  I had virtually no strength in me.  I was attached to the couch, my pillow and my blanket.  The night before, I battled hours of shaking from a fever, suffered another back spasm, and flipped about trying to find relief from clogged sinuses with a stack of tissues catching the constant drip from my nose.  Eyes watered without emotion in such a way that upon looking at me, you would think I was crying.  Heck, it felt like I was being water-boarded and I had no secrets to keep from enemy soldiers.  When I did manage to stand and move about.... my family looked at me with eyes like a starving animal was silently looking at its owner to telepathically demand me to feed them.  Guilt came over me that I was just not physically able, but as soon as I acknowledged the feeling.... I was enraged at how nobody would just step up and do anything to help me (or themselves).

DD asked me to give her a ride to the animal shelter for her volunteering stint.  REALLY????  I am obviously feeling (and looking like death walking), but apparently I am supposed to put being sick on the back burner and drive DD to the animal shelter?  Why isn't DH stepping up and taking her?

I tell DD to ask her father to take her.

DH drops off DD at the animal shelter (literally) without walking her in to verify the time of pickup.  Heck, he never left the car.  He pulled up to the door, dropped her off, and drove back home with zero clue to when she will need a ride home. I, on the other hand, obviously know when since I am the one always doing the driving on the weekends.

DH decides waiting for me to feed him is not happening and he grabs a sandwich.  Never offering if I may need to eat something.  I guess a grumbling tummy makes you forget that the wife suffering on the couch just might like a hand from time to time.

I notice the looks DH is flinging my way.  That, "aren't you going to make the grocery list?" look.  The audible sighs of impatience that I am not buzzing around the house compiling the weekly shopping list or asking what he would like for the weekly meal selection since I gave up choosing what I would like to cook because of the picky palates I am required to accommodate.  Since I am not in the mood for a fight, I bite my tongue and make the list, and went to lay down afterwards.  I left the list for him and thought he would go get DD from volunteering and take her with him to the grocery store and get this task done since I am too sick to even move.  I apparently was wrong.   I wake up from a short nap and see that DH has not left the recliner and it was time to get DD from the animal shelter.  I look at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him to do this weeks grocery shopping trip without me and get our daughter from the animal shelter.  He looks at me with a reply of a man waiting for his wife to get her backside in gear for a fun trip to the grocery store, oh, and I (the sick one) gets to drive.  

Suddenly, my attitude changes to one of a woman on the edge and looking for a frying pan to fling at her husband.  I sigh and succumb to my fate that I will have to go grocery shopping and get our daughter, too.  The hopes of getting a break to rest have been crushed.

With shoulders slumped, I grab my coat, shoes, purse, keys, and the grocery list and tell DH we need to go get this errand done so I can rest.  DH saunters off to the bathroom for the before-we-go-anywhere potty break while I mumble cursing statements on my way to the car.  Our first stop is the animal shelter to get DD.  I ask DH to go and get her and he refuses to leave the car to do so.  I sigh and get out of the car, muttering more curses while I enter the animal shelter to get DD.  Upon getting DD, I inform her that we, as a family, are now required to get this shopping trip done.  She is not happy and gets her ear buds out to tune out her family.... oh joy... and gets in the car and off we go to the grocery store.

Upon parking, DH bounces out of the car and practically skips into the grocery store while DD and I were walking like we are heading off to the executioner.  Her, tuning out everyone with her music blaring in her ears and I, muttering angry thoughts between sneezes and coughs.  I grab onto a cart for balance and push myself through the store.  I ask for my healthy family to grab the things on the list while I push the cart so I can try to contain the illness within my little bubble... sneezing and coughing in my coat instead of my hand.  

We are half way through our shopping and in the frozen foods section.  DH is bouncing like a kid at Christmas, wanting to show DD a brand of ice cream that the brand name is the same as his.  DD is not interested and I think she said, "whatever", and DH blows a gasket with the comment of, "oh joy, I get to deal with a pair of crab-asses in the grocery store", in a tone that finally snapped my filter of trying to be reasonable.  That is when I just snapped and shouted in the grocery store about not being all that happy being dragged to go grocery shopping while I am sick (cursing/colorful language included).  People turned and looked at me snap back at DH's comment (which, by the way, was not shouted, but loud enough for others to hear).  DH was not all that happy about my outburst and the rest of the trip consisted of stuff being literally slam-dunked and thrown in the cart.  The silent treatment started and has not exactly ended as of yet and it has been since Sunday afternoon and it is Wednesday now.  

DH is not a fan of talking things out and even less of a fan of considering another's point of view.  Heck, I doubt he acknowledged me struggling to remain upright while being as sick as I was.  I think he refused to believe me that I was that sick.  I, of course, can admit that I am just as at fault about this.  I should have asked instead of assumed that people would be willing to do what I usually do when I am obviously sick as well as I should have informed everyone that my patience is basically nonexistent and to leave me alone so I can figuratively get my head on straight.  Even more obviously, I should have never enabled my family to be they way that they are.  I do everything without asking for help.  I never delegated anything to others because if I can do it... why make someone else do it for me....  Sadly, as I am willing to admit my faults, DH refuses and thus being on day #3 of the silent treatment, with probably a few more days of silent treatment to go.  It is just now a waiting game for DH to cool off and return to acting like this never happened in the first place.  Sure, it is wrong to wait for the other person to decide when to let things go and move forward without talking, but this is how it has been handled for years.  I would love to change it, but when only one is willing and the other is not?  It is a waste of energy pushing the issue.  I should know.  I have tried for the past 15 years and I am out of ideas on how to change it and I am just so very tired.

Now, another event that happened while I am trying to get back to my "A- game"....  I asked DD on Monday if she could at least clean her room.  I know.... I know.... Every parent argues with their child over how messy they are and there is a perpetual long-standing argument over having a clean living environment.  I know I had those same arguments with my mother about cleaning my room.  While I will admit that I am not at the level of OCD neat-freak status, I am not exactly a slob either.  Sure, I will go into shut-down mode and not clean for a few days.  Heck, I even managed to take a week off from picking up after my family.  What baffles me is how my family can look past the mess and not do anything about it.  I can only assume that the threshold of acceptance of being messy is far higher than mine because I always manage to hit a breaking point and just do things myself.  I am just saddened at how my family seems so at ease of not caring anymore and even more saddened at how it is easier for them to shame me into taking the reigns and take care of things all the time.  Sure, there is a level of enabling on my part because I do care more, but how do I convince others to care as much as I do?  Words are not working.  Actions are not appreciated.  Even not doing a thing refuses to create a spark in them to do more.  I just don't get it and I guess I never will, but haven't you ever wondered?  And if you managed to tap into knowing their threshold, how so many arguments can be avoided with that knowledge? 

Needless to say.... DD has not cleaned her room, DH has not tried to talk things out, I am still out of ideas in getting any change in a positive way, and I have stuff to do.  I just have to take comfort in believing that I am not alone on this journey.  Thanks for reading and have a great day!!

That first step.....

Have you ever noticed the first step in obtaining a goal is the hardest?  Especially when you already know that obtaining said goal is going to take many more steps to even pass the starting gate?  I happen to have one whopper of a hard time on just one and that is.....  getting back to my pre-marriage weight.

Yep, yep, yep.... I am not alone when it comes to the "freshman fifteen" (or twenty or thirty).  The difference is... being married is nothing like college, but it does ring true.  Here is why....

During what is commonly called the bachelor/bachelorette years, you know, the dating scene is very superficial and when you are single.... you watch your weight with an iron fist.  Always fretting over those stubborn (and sometimes delusional) 10 pounds that we just cannot seem to lose.  Of course, this is mainly a female affliction, but there are some men that see it the same way for them.  Once you are in a committed relationship, you tend to be a little more relaxed about being so critical and some weight will creep on, but not in a way that it gets out of hand.  Heck, a few sit ups and maybe opt for a salad once to twice a week fixes the problem rather quickly.  What I am getting at is the ultimate committed relationship, where you are bound by the ring, the vows and the piece of paper that binds two together until death do you part (or a good divorce lawyer).  That day in, day out commitment for the rest of your life, through sickness and health and blah, blah, blah.  If you haven't figured it out?  It is marriage.

With marriage and all that two people become one in spirit, there is the building of family and a sense of contentment that has that former bachelor/bachelorette completely not paying attention to their weight and general health.  Heck, we can chalk it up to no longer caring about looking our best because we grasped onto that golden ring.  No longer are we to make a show of puffery to get the attention of someone anymore.  That type of commitment already demands and expects attention already in play.  Of course, regardless of the attention (or lack thereof) at home, we just accept what we have and enjoy what life offers.  Especially when it comes to food and those lazy days at home with those you love.

Every once in a while, we get to take a good long look in the mirror and experience the proverbial slap to your confidence that you are no longer that spry little adorable person you once were.  Heck, looking back, I never thought of myself as spry or little.  Even adorable was pushing the envelope, but I digress.  Looking back at old pictures, I apparently lacked any positive thought of myself, but looking at the pictures while glancing back at what I look like now?  I have to say.... I was a lot cuter in my youth... a lot cuter and I want to be that cute again, darn it!!

Since plastic surgery is an expense I cannot afford, nor would I try it since there are quite a few stories of botched surgeries and I am not risky like that, but there is one thing I could become proud of again if I would just take that first (of many) steps to getting back to an attractive body size.  Mind you, not as thin as my thinnest because I did look a little sickly then and childbirth does change your body shape a bit, but just a smaller version of what I am at this very moment would be good.  That sounds like a reasonable change for the better, right?  I have an awesome sense of humor, I am nice, and I hide my gray hairs with a nice shade of brown.  Heck, some people think I look younger than what my age truly is with how menopause is kicking down the door as we speak....  That is definitely saying something, right?

Yep, that love of food and dislike of an exercise regime has caught up with me.... big time.  Those darn yoga pants are just too comfy (and stretchy), as well as my penchant for over-sized shirts that hide the flaws of motherhood.  I completely jumped off the ship when it came to being even somewhat diligent in watching the one thing I always have had control over.... my weight.  Now, I have to swim back to that metaphorical ship and climb back on and I am not all that happy about it.  I wish I was blessed with a good metabolism, but obviously, I was not.  When God handed out our individual qualities, he felt it was best to give me a sense of humor and a dislike of dieting instead.  Oh, and a so-so attitude about exercise.

I know what to do.  I have done this many times over the (cough) years.  I have been successful and there were times.... not so successful, but I know it can be done.  It is just sad that my thoughts turn to saying that the only way I am ever going to get that perfect hourglass shape is when my ashes are placed in a curvy urn.  Simply put.... I have the desire, I just lack the drive.

I have been told that once you take that first step, you will thank yourself for doing so, but I have been in a running pattern hovering just above the ground for so long that I am just not feeling all that grateful.  Actually hitting the ground seems more daunting than the overwhelming feeling before I start doing housework after my family had a weekend to trash the place.  I always manage to find something else to do than what I should be doing.  Call it procrastination, but I call it reverse prioritizing; what should be first on the to-do list of life is pushed to the end.  I know I do it... heck I just owned up to it, but it does not create a solution for it.  I would start a help group for it, but I would find something else to grab my attention.... it is that bad.

Oh well, no time like the present, right?  Or shall I start this journey on Monday like everyone else.....  Sigh.... 

Well, thanks for reading!!  

Lenten Sacrifice....

People sometimes ask about faith and religion.  These questions range from what religious background of which I have been raised to what my thoughts are on faith and religion.  I have a standard explanation to people that I am Catholic.  Not a bible-thumping radical of a person of the Catholic faith, but I am a believer in God.  I usually keep my beliefs and faith to myself.  I try my best to follow the teachings I received when I was a child, and when it comes down to certain practices of my faith, like Lent, I at least try to make an attempt to give something up for the Lenten season.  Sometimes, I choose to take a different route and instead of giving something up... I do something more.

Now, you are probably wondering how a person of such rigid standards can choose between giving something up and giving more.  The answer is quite simple, but at the same time.... not so simple.

The explanation of what the Lenten Sacrifice during the Lenten season has changed over the years, but the meaning behind it remains true.  The story of Lent, as I have been told, is the period of time where Jesus Christ, the only son of God, born from the womb of a virgin (Mary was her name), was publicly punished for teaching the faith and sharing the knowledge that there is truly only one God and not multiple ones.  That miracles happen through believing in God, and his only son was the vessel of proof with examples of healing the sick and parting of seas.  It took some serious showing to prove this, but the non-believers needed more than just words.  They needed to see it in order to consider believing it.  Well, Jesus was publicly punished and killed for his beliefs and teachings.  Tortured really, and with that in mind.... Jesus made the ultimate sacrifice for the transgressions (sins) of man.  The Lenten Sacrifice is based upon giving something up for the greater good in order to understand the sacrifices Jesus made for man, woman, and child.

While this explanation does not make all that much sense because of the miracles and mysteries that happened, but the connection between sacrifice and faith does.  At least to me, but something was missing when I did the usual giving up of something I enjoyed for those 40 days and 40 nights.  This sacrifice was lacking the fundamental teachings of the bible where it is for the greater good of all.  That is where doing more comes to play.  

What I mean by doing more is simply something more helpful.  Regardless that it is on a much smaller scale and not all that Earth-shattering, but even small offerings of more do have the opportunity to snowball into something greater.  I see it as something as a beginning of a pay it forward chain of kindness.  As it has been stated in the bible (generally explained, that is), we, the children of God are to love one another and care for this planet that we live upon.  In fact, if I recall this correctly, the basis of most religious faith is for love and peace with others.  While I see this as something that can be done on a daily basis and not necessarily something only to be done during the Lenten Season, that sacrifice of making time to give a little more can be just as important as taking something away.  This is something that crosses religious lines and is still somewhat something that connects them all.  I guess it is in how people see it.  At least, it is how I happen to see it.

Of course, there will always be argument over religion and its practices.  I have heard some very compelling arguments about these practices being nothing more than man-made rules to follow.  Heck, I remember just the demand of not eating meat on Ash Wednesday and on Fridays during Lent when I was a child, to learn that the rules changed to not eating at all on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday with no meat for the Fridays in between until Easter Sunday.  Sure, there are exceptions when it came to age and health issues that required people to eat for their medications, and that even gives more validity to the man-made rule belief.  Sure, I could just not give something up for the Lenten Season, or I could opt to give more, but where does that remind me that there was sacrifice during this time?  Heck, I think my parents and the parents of parents can attest to the fact that having a child is a serious sacrifice with no time limits.  I should know because I sacrifice every day something for DD, if not just my freedom to do whatever I want (when I want it), it is of money, time, food, and my heart.  Of course, those sacrifices are given willingly and often because of unconditional love.  Isn't that the same as the love God has given us?  DD can clean her room or do the dishes without being asked and that offering of more is just as appreciated as having her sacrifice a little socializing time to do these things.  It is all in how it can be perceived.  And without the big showing of being challenged to the masses with a title of being a religious act.  A good example of this is in the bible under Matthew 6:5 and it says this.....

5"When you pray, you are not to be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on the street corners so that they may be seen by men. Truly I say to you, they have their reward in full. 6"But you, when you pray, go into your inner room, close your door and pray to your Father who is in secret, and your Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you.…

While this can be seen in various angles and explained various ways.... it is the basis that faith is an individual thing and is not necessary to be thrown about in the faces of others to prove a point.  I guess that is why I really do not shout from the mountaintops (if there were any where I live), what my intentions are for this time of sacrifice and reflection.

Now, if people were to argue by foundation of faith and religion and why I am a believer.... well, I can sum that up in something even easier.....

Faith is blind, but it is a choice.  I do not need science to believe in my faith, nor do I feel it is necessary to use science to try to disprove my beliefs.  I choose to believe in the mystery and the miracles.  No need to change my mind as I have no interest in changing yours, but I will still love you just the same.  Everyone believes in something and this is what I believe.....

Thanks for reading and have a great day!!!

Just a random "Mind-Flush"...

Howdy!  Got some things that I managed to wonder about recently and figured I would share....

Now, I would like to begin with a, "I wonder if I am the only one wondering", kind-of thing...

A recent news report mentioned that a man falsely accused of rape and murder of a minor was released recently.  Yep, the legal system got a little egg on its face when the DNA results exonerated an accused man of something he kept on stating he never did.  Well, after years of being in prison, he is getting released and the mainstream media felt compelled to share not just this story, but his name, just so the public knows that this innocent man has spent years in prison.  While the proof finally did set him free, I wonder.....  Does being incarcerated change a person?  I have no doubt they would change, but there are some curious odds at stake here.  Not all reformed criminals stay reformed for long.  Sure, there are some that really do change for the better, but what about the ones that were innocent to begin with?  Do they change because of the environment they were thrust upon?  Just wondering if this guy is going to stay on the straight and narrow after being falsely accused.  Have you wondered?

Okay, onward to a recent feeling/thought about a current event that happened in my life....

I just recently worked my fingers into a cramped state with making some of the things I turned to as stress-reducing hobbies for a craft fair like event.  I was honored to hear supportive comments that the things I make with my hands are worthy to be sold to the masses and that I should do just that to add yet another layer to helping support my family.  The thing is.... I have to spend money with hopes of making back what I spent when I sell.  I think that is why I was so uncertain I could actually be considered an artisan that can sell what I make.  In all honesty, I see myself more as the starving artist than an artisan.  I have no clue what people like, I have no clue if what I am required to charge is considered fair and reasonable, and if people would actually buy my things, but I took a chance and lost BIG and will most likely lose even bigger when it is all done.  I should have known better than to think that my hobby is worthy of paying for itself.  Especially when the direct competition is discount stores that charge less than what I pay in materials.  I never even factored the hours that I worked at making these things, basically, I priced the things I made for this event I attended at slightly above cost of materials (since I pay taxes on my materials).  Probably, if I priced everything at below what I shelled out to make these things.... I might have sold more than 4 things in three hours.  Of course, either way I look at it.... I would have not broken even, but it hurts all the same.  I banked on at least breaking even at this event, but I obviously didn't.  Sure, I had a lot of people looking at what I have toiled over for weeks, I did no housework and every waking free moment I had consisted of making things to sell for three weeks, solid.

I did share information about the event, I reminded people as often as I could via social media without being annoying, and I even posted pictures of what I have accomplished to at least spark some interest.  Sadly, it did not pan out as planned, but I did offer my most heartfelt thanks for those that came, looked and said "hi".  A few bought something, of which I appreciated more and offered even more thanks.  I really have nothing to complain about.... I just knew that people were not going to be interested.  I took the chance because of the positive feedback.  I know better now.  I just have no clue what to do with all of this stuff I made.  I guess I could just keep it.  DH might not be all that happy about it.  I could use it as gifts and give it away, but doing that would make my chest hurt more than it already does.  In fact, I feel a little sick that I so readily accepted all the compliments and believed that people would actually buy something I made.  Regardless the fact that it all started out as a hobby or a way to diffuse stress.

With all this in mind, I started to wonder if I am actually worthy of much these days.  I am struggling at work with rebuilding a clientele I lost, feeling I am in competition with my coworkers for work.  Well, not in competition with all of my coworkers.  I happen to have one that is quite ruthless and will trample over me to take every opportunity that walks through the door.  Everyone else seems real nice.  I really like the almost drama-free environment that I work in now.  It is the rebuilding of a clientele that is killing me.  I already know that life offers no guarantees and it is going to take hard work (and patience), but it just would be nice if I could see into the future and know for certain that everything will get better.  These past few months are not exactly a fact-filled barometer to even give me a baseline to see where it is going.  With the holiday rush hitting the post-holiday slump, I have no clue if growth is going to happen any time soon.

I am already aware of the value I happen to be at home.  It is not all that high, but at least the tension has diminished.  Any stress at home is of my doing and my problem.  DH has been making some big changes and I am impressed with his resolve in following through.  DD is doing well at school, she made the honor roll (I have the bumper sticker to prove it), but is not all that good at handling the stresses of life in high school.  DH and I are doing our best to help her through this tough transition, but it appears that the ability to mask over unhappy things is a strong trait in this family.  I am aware that DH has some stress to deal with at work, as well as I do, but we still do not communicate about it, nor do we ask for help about it.  We are more focused on DD and helping her out, as it should be.  Of course, avoiding the problems that are swept under the rug or put on the back burner, so to speak, is not exactly fixing the problems and will most likely grow into something that will we will have no clue to what to do about it.  I just hope we can keep it from growing out of hand.  Maybe chisel at it a little at a time to work it out and get a solution.  Not exactly holding my breath for that to come to fruition, but I do happen to hold a little candle of hope it can happen.

Well, with that full box of crafts and bead work still sitting in my car, I have to figure where I can put it all for now, while I figure my next move.  As I mentioned earlier, I did thank everyone that did manage to attend the event, thanked those that bought something, and shared my doubts as simply as I could to if I am willing to take another chance.  Which, by the way... the chances are small.  I cannot afford to do more.  I did get some positive feedback and even some told me to keep trying, but what I experienced last night managed to tell me that what I make is not all that special and nothing in demand.  Could be the current economy and the new household budget that put a kibosh on selling anything more than I did manage to sell last night.  I could try to join the masses that sell their stuff on Etsy, eBay, and the likes, but I just really do not have the time or energy to maintain a website.  Heck, I barely ever manage to keep up with my social page or even this blog.  THAT is definitely saying something.  Well, time to get the day started.  I have housework to do.  Thanks for reading and sorry I was such a "downer".

Why I don't do well selling things I have made.....

Howdy!  Just a quick blog entry about what has been going on over these past few weeks.....

Lets see....  lets start with why today's entry is having this title, shall we?  Great.

I received a call from big brother about an opportunity to sell some of my stress-reducing crafts in beads, or better categorized... bead woven jewelry.  You see, I have these go-to hobbies to keep a level head, and I have had a couple over these past 18 years or so.  It all started with DH's annual "fishing trips".  Really, these fishing trips were just a weekend with the guys to get hammered and not deal with their nagging spouses/girlfriends... not one fish was ever brought home, but they certainly did come home with a sunburn and a raging hangover.  Not all that sure if their livers were thanking them, but they do manage to relax and have some fun.

My first hobby was painting glass.  I went to the local hobby store and got a starter kit with brushes and a few instructional books to learn this craft.  With a fair amount of patience and a lot of swearing, I was able to make some really nice stuff.  I painted on glassware, vases, and even some glass ornaments.  Well, one year, while DD was in preschool, I donated some painted glass for a fundraiser for the school and it snowballed into becoming a participant as a local artist in their fundraiser/craft fair.  Well, let me tell you this.... I was one glass painting maniac for a solid month to get ready for this thing, but I only had a limited number of things to sell and offered to take orders if a person wanted to purchase something I already sold.  BIG MISTAKE on my part because I went home after 3 hours with nothing to take home and at least a dozen orders to fill.  Took me another solid 4 weeks to fill the orders because the glassware I needed was in limited supply.  Once I finished filling those orders... I thought that was it, but NO...  I was asked to do this venue for another 2 years and one open house show for the event planner.  Needless to say.... I was all painted out and decided to take on a different hobby.

That was when I took an interest in beaded jewelry.  It started off simple... just stringing beads on wire.  Expensive, but fun.  After about a year or so of simple stringing, I learned hand-knotting pearls, and then a little wire wrapping.  It was the day I saw some of the most beautiful, detailed works in bead weaving and bead embroidery, that I took my simple, yet expensive hobby to a new level.  I took classes, invested in materials, and found peace in making some really pretty stuff I could wear, and it did not take up as much space as painted glass did.  Of course, with all this knowledge, I became the go-to girl for fixing broken jewelry of friends and co-workers.  I made a little money selling a few things I have made and was told I should join the masses that sell on Etsy or join the craft fair circuit.  I just never thought I had enough for either since everything I have made either became a gift or was bought from me before I could amass enough to do a showing.  Heck, most of what I made I kept for myself.  My mom kept me knee deep in requests for things and she at least supplied me with the materials to make it.  The few things I did make for sale were for a co-worker that loved what I made and wanted it in a certain color, a certain style variation, and did pay me for the work, that is, once I made it to her specifications.  I still have an almost finished pair of earrings made with the smallest seed beads I have worked with (size  15/0, and believe me... these are really small beads... like stringing dust) and had to scrap that pair to start over because the color of the crystal was not deep enough.  I kept those unfinished earrings unfinished as a reminder that I just cannot do special orders for picky people.... I would definitely lose my mind ;)

Well, with that history put out there, I am now faced with the challenge of selling stuff I make.... AGAIN.  Big brother mentioned to a person hosting an upcoming event that I make beaded jewelry and I also paint glass.  Needless to say.... they were interested in having me join this event.  Gotta just love my big brother.  He was looking out for me to find a way to make some money with what I made.  I really do appreciate it, but when I agreed to do this venue... I quickly realized that I did not have enough stuff to actually sell and decided that the next 3 weeks were going to be dedicated to making beaded items (earrings, necklaces, bracelets).  Yep, for 2 solid weeks, I spent all my free time hovered over beads, making stuff to sell, totally forgetting that big brother also mentioned that I will be selling painted glass at this venue, too.  I remembered last night checking out the venue information on Facebook and turned pale at the mention that I will be also selling painted glass.  Yep, not all that confident that I made enough beaded works and found out that I have absolutely NOTHING in painted glass (I sold it or gave it all away years ago).

Racing frantically against the constant ticking of the clock and with less than a week to be prepared....  I went shopping for some glassware and found a few things I never got to painting and started painting it all.  Well, that is, after getting more paint and supplies since DD has misplaced all of my painting supplies.  Once I at least finish what I have planned to make... I have to go through the daunting task of pricing all this stuff to sell and that is where I will second guess myself and probably either sell my soul or sell nothing.  I know what I value what I have made, I know how much I have invested in making these things, but it is the potential buyer that will decide if I am worth the prices I am charging.  Sadly, people are afraid of what I charge for the bead work I do.  I will try to be reasonable about it, but I have heard too many oohs and aahs with the mention of, "that is a little out of my price range for something like this".  The nice person that I am will try to explain the investment and the time to make these things, but how can I compete with discount stores selling plastic knock-offs of what I make?  Oh, and it has been YEARS since I have been selling hand-painted glass and I am not even sure of the price market for that kind of thing.  Yep... feeling a stress headache coming on and worrying about supply, demand, and if it will all sell (or not).

I will say this..... what I will be selling is all that I have and I will not be available for special orders because I am feeling like a factory of one and I am taking a much needed break after this event is over.

Well, time is still ticking and I have less than a week to be ready and I am nowhere near ready.  Thanks for reading and have a great day!!!