You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘Confessions’ category.

That’s what I’ve been doing for so very long.

One year ago today, I attended the memorial service for, and said goodbye to, my dearest childhood friend, JT.  It was two measly posts ago that I wrote about it.  I’ve been back to my blog one time since I wrote about my greatest heartbreak and I couldn’t bring myself to write about anything.  Not that anything before that point was prize winning, but I have been going down a very long road with the grief.

In one week, I’m participating in my fifth half marathon.  I’m not ready.  I hit a nasty block with the Air Force Half Marathon.   Had I not joined Fisher House Foundation‘s charity team, Team Fisher House, and raised money, I likely would have bailed. but I didn’t want to let those who supported me down.  I ended up traveling alone and running alone.  It rained and I was 20 minutes past gun time starting because traffic was a nightmare trying to get on base even though I gave myself over 3 hours to get there.  I developed a blister about mile 1.5, lost my interval timer and stupidly backtracked trying to find it, which I never did.  However, I was a finisher.  That was five weeks ago and I’ve put my running shoes on once.  Today.

Today, Fab wanted to go for a run with me.  I purposely didn’t time it and I refused to look at the clock because I didn’t want to know how long it took us.  It was the slowest two miles I’ve had in a long time, but I swear it went by the quickest.  She reminded me to be aware of what was around us, asked if my phone was fully charged, and we were off.  We talked, laughed, and had a great time.  She told me she was sorry for being slow.  I told her it didn’t matter and I meant it.  We finished our two miles and we did it with a smile and a high five.  She has asked for a fuel belt for Christmas.  Her biggest concern is what to put in the zippered pouch since she doesn’t have car keys or a phone.  But she wants one because I have one and she wants to run with me.

Next week I’m meeting up with one of my besties.  It will be her first half marathon.  I’m so proud of her and the strides she’s made with running.  She’s an inspiration to me and I’m looking forward to supporting her and cheering her on.  Next week I’ll lace up my running shoes and don my calf compression sleeves and running jersey to raise awareness for a cause I believe in.  Next week I’m dedicating my run to JT.  Just like everything else I tackled in my life, he supported me with a whole heart and unwavering love.  I will do my best, albeit slow, and count my blessings with every step I take.

Be well.

There once was a girl from the South

Who [thought she] knew what life was about

She gave it her all

Sometimes she would fall

Oh, hell.  Who am I kidding?

Dude, it has been an ass kicking year and a half.  No other way to put it.

So, it’s not quite the prose I had hoped for.  There aren’t but so many times someone can post that they’ve disappeared (as if it wasn’t obvious from lack of posts) and then promise to get back on track. It gets old after the first, but I probably have at least half a dozen to my credit.  If not more. So, when I took my last blip off the blogging radar, I didn’t come back.  One, I had nothing to say and two, which really should be one, is I have been consumed by lazy.  So many of the fantastic people I’ve met through blogging and I are now F@ceb00k friends, so they keep up with all the mundane stuff.

I hit bottom and bounced back up.  I hit bottom again and bounced back up.  That third time of hitting bottom has been super hard to recover from.  I have given up a lot of the volunteer work I was doing so I could focus on my family and household.  I will say, Fabul-O has been a trooper through all of the changes and has been so much more resilient than I ever could have asked.  The one thing that hasn’t changed is the love and unwavering support of all my fabulous friends and my parents.  Without them, I shudder to think what depths I would have sunk to.

In February I participated in my first half marathon.  I had some health issues at the end of last year that kept me from being able to train properly and run.  With constant nagging by me, the eventual blessing of my doctor with a conditional clearance, I did a walk/run (emphasis on walk) and completed.  Aside from the fact I thought I would die, and the massive blister I developed at mile 5, I felt good.  Except for the massive amounts of pain I was in.  I wasn’t last.  I know the “you lapped everyone who didn’t get off the couch” spiel and all the other well-intended yada-yas, but I didn’t feel like I really and truly “did” a half marathon.  Except for the super swag, fancy medal, and the best damn muffins I had ever eaten.  So, when I got the email for the discounted fee, I registered for it again.  Next time I want to run.  I will run the Myrtle Beach Half Marathon in February 2013.

My mission before that one is to run the Army Ten Miler in DC in October.  I joined Team Fisher House and will run raising awareness for all the awesomeness Fisher House provides for families of our service members.  For those who don’t know, Fisher House is kind of like a Ronald McDonald House for military families.

This is the last year of my 30s and I want to make it kick ass.  For the most part, my 30s were good, but I want to send them out with a bang.

I don’t know if anyone still hangs around to see if I’m still alive, but, I am.  And I’m going to be better than I’ve been in a long, long time.



Well, I finally have a permanent, full-time job.  It’s not ideal, but I’m gainfully employed and, for that, I’m grateful.  No more 90 mi. round trip commute.  It’s 3.3 miles from my office to my house.  I could walk it, if I wanted to and didn’t need to be in pristine condition when I got there.  Maybe one day, but for now, I’m okay with the drive.

It has been a rough year and it has kicked my tuchus six ways from Sunday.  I’ve struggled with feelings of failure and letting all those around me down.  I hit a serious depression and there were days I couldn’t get my head up off the pillow.  Failed interview after failed interview and opportunities that I couldn’t make happen really brought me down.  I accepted a temp position with a company in June and was finally made permanent a few weeks ago.  A good friend helped me out with kid-care this summer when I started temping so I didn’t have to pay daycare rates.  As did the midwest G’ma and Papa L.  Fabul-O spent 3 weeks visiting them this summer.  It was wonderful for her and them.

I’ve made several attempts to redefine me and I have learned, but am still struggling to accept, is I am who I am and that’s not going to change.  Complacency gets us all and it got the best of me.  So, I’m no longer working on reinventing me or even redefining me.  I’m working on making the me I am the best it can be.  I still struggle and I still have a long way to go.  We have had the love and support of friends and family and I am so thankful I surround myself with people who care and don’t just throw lip service our way.  I am so glad I raised Olivia to understand the value of what we have and what we give because it’s helped to adjust to our revised way of living.

I’m back at Weight Watchers and had a successful first week back on plan.  I struggled this week, but I’m having to break a lot of bad habits and, damn, that gets a lot harder the older you get.  And oatmeal doesn’t taste nearly as good as a biscuit.

Olivia participated in her first 5K in September.  We ran about the first half mile and we walked the rest.  We finished in 52 minutes and I am super proud of my girl.  People say we could have shaved 5 min off our time had I not taken her picture at the mile markers.  We walked in support of Operation Homefront North Carolina.  She says she wants to do another one.  Running it.

I had my 20 year class reunion a few weeks ago.  20 years changed a lot of us in a lot of ways.  Others of us it totally skipped and nothing has changed.  I’ve changed.  And I’m glad.

I’m who I am and that won’t change.  There are still a lot of things that need to be worked on and I will… one of them at a time.



I’m alive.  I’m still unemployed, but I’m alive.  Nothing too exciting has has been going on around here.  I haven’t posted any recipes becuase we’ve been doing a lot of repeats because my mojo has been a little off.   When I get that one little ounce of sunshine, a pound of grey covers it over.  It’s a cycle.  I’m aware it’s a cycle.  And I do what I can to keep my chin up during said cycle.

A couple of weekends ago, the fabulous Shanny through a kickin’ baby shower for the wonderful Shannon…a mustache themed babyshower.  You kinda gotta know the backstory, but it involves Shannon’s husband who has a very dark mustache and is affectionately referred to as “mustachio” by some.   There were pink beads, cupcakes, delicious punch (O.M.G. Baby shower punch is the best evah.  Hawaiian Punch, ginger ale and sherbert.  Divine) and a game of Pictionary where there were some pretty crude pictures drawn to represent something so simple.  All I know is when you hear dirty words fly through the air, you hang on by your sugar high and ride with it.

Fabul-O is just that…Fab.  She’s learning more and more and is becoming such a 6 y.o.  I mean, I know she’s six, but she’s starting to act 6 with a tinge of the 2s, a helping of the 3s, a slice of the 4s and the whines of the 5s.  I’m not sure if I’ll make it all the way to 7.  She went to the dentist the other day for her cleaning and x-rays.  She was born without two of her bottom teeth.  The hygienest had us both in near tears talking about implants and extractions, etc.  I reminded the lady that Fab was only 6 and didn’t even have a loose baby tooth yet, but I’m sure we had PLENTY of time to discuss cosmetic options when the time was appropriate.  Finally she backed off.   She was a champ for all her x-rays, including bite wings.  I have to go tomorrow and I totally wish I had some valium.  I hate the dentist with a white hot passion.  After we left, she said to me, “Mommy.  I have glasses, I don’t have your color skin and now I’m missing teeth?  What else is wrong with me?”  Talk about Mommy melt down.  Holy crap.  I reminded her that I wear glasses, I don’t have her color skin and I’m missing some teeth, too, and that one day the rest of the world would be lucky to catch up and be as cool as we are.  Then I gave her ice cream.   She was content and has only asked me about not being born with those teeth a few times.   Insecurities: Round 3.

I got the “Why didn’t I get born from your tummy” question last week.  We’ve had the conversation before, but we had it again.  The older she gets, the more detail she requires and I shouldn’t be at a loss for words because I practiced it forever.  I’ll get it.  I’m good like that.
Went to a seminar about making myself marketable in the job market last week.  I got some valuable feedback and they reviewed my resume. I thought it looked good.  Granted, it does LOOK good, but it needs some tweaking, so she told me what to do and I’m working on revamping it.  They will review it again and the CEO will be have a one-on-one session with everyone to go over questions about getting back into the groove of applying for jobs.  I took a little hiatus to work on some things and now I’m ready to get back at it.

We are going to be farming in the ‘hood again this year…I have some piccies from our starter seeds, but we’ll leave that riveting post for another day.

Hope you all are fabulous…those who still stop in from time to time, that is….

Be well…


Nothing new and spectacular to report.  I feel like my heart is lightening up some.  I know that’s a good thing, but sometimes, when I catch myself, I close it right back up.  My goal is to let it stay open….little bits at a time, though.

Through all of this, I have been reassured day after day after day after day that I am an emotional eater.  I used to say I was, but never put a lot of stock into it, but my dang emotions can set me on a path to self destruction.  I’m working on this, too.

A couple of friends have given me reading suggestions.  I bought a Nook and have enjoyed having it and checking out books from the library for it.  That is super exciting because they are F.R.E.E.  My favorite four letter word on the planet.

I’m still fighting to regain my sense of me.

Forgiveness has always been hard for me.  I have always felt that if I forgive someone for something, I have to forget the ill ever happened. It also made me feel like a bad Christian because I carry the grudge and ill feelings.  I constantly have a burden because I can’t let go.  So, not only am I harboring my ill feelings, but I’m toting the guilt of failing in my spiritual life. I’m having to rebuild both bit by bit.

What seems perfectly reasonable to some is hard for me to digest.  It’s a small step, but I’ve learned that forgetting is not essential in forgiving.  I can’t separate the two yet; to me one still can’t be without the other one.   But I’ll get there.  I hope.

By now, I’m sure many of you have read Single Dad Laughing’s post “The Disease Called Perfection.”  It got my attention.  I nodded my head as I read through it and felt like some of the burdens on my shoulders were trying to get off.

Some time back, a dear friend confided in me with some happenings in her life.  When she told me, all I could muster up was wow….I never saw that coming.   I then felt I needed to confide in her with some things that have been going on in my life so she would know that when I told her I understood that I truly did and wasn’t giving an obligatory nicety.   She responded with something along the lines of she thought I had the perfect life.  She thought that not because of a perfect picture I paint, but because of what I don’t share.  Folks, let me tell you.  My life is far from perfect.  The only perfect part of my life is Olivia and it even has its challenges for me.  Let me just go ahead and say this…not one time have I ever regretted the decision to be a parent.  Not one time have I ever regretted choosing China as the country from which we would adopt.  Not one time have I ever felt pressured about being a parent.  And, lastly, not one time in my entire life has my heart ever been filled with so much love.  But, even as full as my heart is with love with her and for her, it is empty for so many other things.

This post has been circling in my brain for a very long time.  I’ve mentioned before about some struggles I’ve had going on in my life, but I’ve never mentioned all of them.  Some of them are from within me.  My need to be able to help everyone when they need it and to not fail. My biggest fear is failing.  At anything.  Another of my struggles is balance.  How to balance working (until this past February two jobs), being a mom and now PTA chair, Girl Scout leader, and FRG leader for our unit.  This last one was a tough decision for me and I felt as though I probably shouldn’t take on the responsibility.  Once I wade through all my shortcomings as a person and all my anxiety and fears I carry within me, comes the biggest struggle of all with failure tagging along.

For over two years, I’ve been struggling to keep my marriage together with this past year being the most draining on me.  I found out during my review at work back in the summer exactly how much having problems behind the scenes affected me.  I can count on one hand how many people know what has been going on.  I am not going into detail because I don’t think it’s fair to Will or necessary.  It has been the hardest two years of my life by far and, right now, I can’t tell you how this story will end.  I’m hoping for the best, whatever that may be.  I’m not perfect.  I get angry, frustrated, slam doors and cry.  I am carrying a grudge, disappointment, anger, hatred, and an overwhelming feeling of not being good enough.  My self esteem no longer exists.  I have shut down.  I have sunk to a level of being blue that I struggle to recover from.  I have friends who think I’ve abandoned them and no longer want to be friends or care about them.   I feel as though I’m letting Olivia down and that guilt is, by far, the largest.  I also didn’t, and still don’t, want to be the center of conversation or gossip.

I am trying to learn how to regain my self esteem and accept the fact that I am good enough.  I’m trying to learn forgiveness.  I’m trying to learn to let go of the anger and hatred I’m harboring.  I’m trying to learn to move forward and have things be better.  So far, I’m really not doing so good, but I also know it’s not an overnight process.  It took years to get to this point and will take time to get back to whatever my new normal will be.

To those who think I’ve abandoned them: I’m sorry.  I wanted to tell you, but couldn’t.  It’s embarrassing.  Closing some doors was easier than having to talk about it.

To those who have lent me shoulders, ears and wiped my tears: Thank you.

Every day I wake up trying and hope for a better day than the one before it.  Hopefully, one of these days, it will all fall back into place.

(comments are closed)

That’s what I have.  However, I know deep down that’s just posh talk for being scared utterly crapless about the mud run this weekend.  In 3 days I’m going to embark on the 4.5 mile obstacle course.  I’m not ready.  I know I’m not ready.  I have  a great cheering fan base who all tell me, “you’ll do great!”  In reality, I  won’t.  How do I know?  Because I got my arse handed to me on a platter and lapped by the girl who got lost in the woods for Girl Scout 5k we did.  That’s how I know.  Not much has changed.  I’m drinking tons of water trying to keep hydrated because I quickly learned that dehydration sucks hugely.   I know it’s about having fun and getting muddy.  I know it’s raising money for a terrific cause.  I know I’m doing it and there are others who aren’t even attempting it.  I hurt my shoulder about a month ago at the gym and it’s feeling better, but it’s still not as good as I’ve wanted it to be.  I’m scared.  Loqi says not to be.  Will says not to be.  But I am.  There’s a monkey bars type obstacle.  Hell, I couldn’t do monkey bars when I was in elementary school and I certainly can’t do them now.

There are 3,600 four-person teams.  That’s 14,400 people.  There simply has to be someone who is in worse condition than me.  I hate it, but I’ve lost the drive that had me working so hard for it.  I want to do this.  I really, really do, but I think I have mega cold feet and have a huge fear of letting my teammates down.  My parents are even driving down for it, which is huge and makes me even more nervous.  My fears are rational.  I know a lot of people get race day jitters.  But I’m scared.

If you think about it, on Saturday, September 25 at 9:21:20, we will start and I ask you send me some good ju-ju.  I just want to finish.  Alive.  And not broken.  And not last.  And most of all, I don’t want my teammates to regret being on my team.

You can read a little about it here.


We are alive and well.  I’m still searching for my happy place and to get my zen back.  I think we’re going on about two years now, but, for the first time in a long time, I think I am actually getting close.  My heart and mind seem to be getting on the right track, now if I can just get the chip off my shoulders I will be there.  Just so you know, being a total control freak wreaks havoc and loosening the grip is so very hard.  Baby steps, right?

Now, to break out the super cool bullets of what’s going on and what will (hopefully) follow in future blog posts.

  • We didn’t have a garden this year, but mom and dad did and I’ve been lucky enough to be the recipient of some of the fruits of their labor.  I have shelled butter beans and like it less now then when I was a kid.  I’ve learned to can.  That’s a whole post in itself.  Blueberry season is here.  I haven’t been picking, but a family friend has and has shared his crops with us.  We have squash, squash, squash, tomatoes, squash, zucchini, squash, tomatoes, tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, tomatoes, cucumbers, butter beans, cantaloupe and watermelon.  Thanks mom and dad!  xoxo
  • Olivia has her first crush.  BIG crush.  It, too, is a post all its own.
  • Survived the transition to the Y.  In a couple of weeks she’ll be moving again to the place where she’ll attend after school care.  Hoping it will go more smoothly.
  • Running still sucks.  Hugely.
  • Jillian Michaels has azz kicking DVDs and it’s hard resisting the urge to sit and watch them with a bag of Cheez Puffs.
  • I cried during Toy Story 3 and even caught myself saying, “nooo!”  Will laughed at me.  Only because he has a cold heart and wasn’t moved like the rest of us.
  • I turned 37 on the 15th.  Either I felt old before, or the transition to getting older is easier than it used to be.

Hope all is well with y’all!

Be well,


Fabul-O is on vacation with my parents.  She left Wednesday night and is enjoying five days of constant doting, late bedtime, boat rides, fishing and learning about crab pots.  She’s having a blast.  She’s also informing my mom that we bought her.  I thought when we addressed it and she said she understood how adoption works, etc. that we could move on.  Apparently, her little brain isn’t quite sure how to process the information and use it. She still has seeds of doubt because she is harping on it.  That’s what she does when she can’t wrap her mind completely around something and make it make sense.  I’m fine with that because I know how she functions and it helps me to come up with my next plan of attack.  I read another mom’s blog tonight and it appears that she’s facing a similar situation at her daughter’s preschool class.  And it chaps my ass.  Really.  Truly.

Those who know me in real life know two aspects of my reactions…one is of a calm, cool, collected, let’s see how it works out before we do anything else.  When I reach my breaking point, the other is one who takes no crap from people and lays a verbal smackdown that leaves them cross-eyed.  Regarding things with O, I have to watch how I say things and what I do because of, “out of the mouths of babes.”  Or do I?  Why do I always have to be the one with the good manners and the soft approach?  Why do I have to be the one that has to explain how screwed up everyone else is in their closed-minded ways of thinking?  Why do I have to take the doormat approach and let them verbally smack around my family while I listen to half-hearted apologies and then accept it while turning the other cheek.  Let’s leave being Christian out of this for a minute or two.  I am strong in my faith and know about turning the other cheek, etc.  But I am tired of it.  Plain and simple.  My mother is 4 hours away not 100% sure how to handle the conversation with Olivia.  I told her how I handled it and she carried through with the consistency.

I’m tired of it.  I’ve gotten many compliments on the way I handled the situation and how I expressed concern.  Do y’all really want to know what I think?  This is it…

I’m sick and tired of some azzhole parent/relative/friend of/person/whoever thinking they have the G*d given right to say whatever lays on the end of their tongue in front of children, or grown-ups for that matter.  You know what? Screw your “freedom of speech.”  When you are affecting the molding and shaping of my child with your racist, asinine, uninformed opinions and ideas, you lose that right.  You can cuss your child, you can do whatever you want to with yours, but leave mine out of it.  If you have questions about where Chinese babies come from, let me tell you.  If you want to assume you know why we adopted, let me clear it up.  If you think your closed-minded, selfish, misinformed information is the gospel, you are wrong.  You people don’t know anything about me.  I didn’t grow up in your community.  My child has gone to your school because of convenience and you have a Chr*st centered program.  Wanna know how that’s going for you? It’s sucking hugely in the pre-K classes, FYI.

When Olivia pushed a child, I addressed it head on the with affected parent and child.  When Olivia made fun of your child because he has a big head…Oh, wait.  She didn’t do that because I taught my child that all people are different and the way they look is how they are supposed to and how would she like it if people poked fun at her.  OH, wait.  They do.  And she takes it because that is what a grown-up is supposed to do.  But she’s not a grown up.  She’s a 5-year-old who wants to say, “screw you,” but is afraid because it goes against what I taught her.  She knows it’s not right when kids say mean things and call her names and try to make her eat bugs because “that’s what Chinese people do.”  She is a 5-year-old who practices restraint, grace and composure.  She is a 5-year-old who wants to say your child is an azzhole with a big mouth and deserves to have the ever-loving crap beat out of him, but she doesn’t because she is a freaking awesome kid who turns the other cheek.  She gets angry and knows it’s not fair that she has to take shit but no one else does.  She has approximately 6 weeks left at this school and then we’re moving on to the next phase of her post-toddlerhood life.  For the next 6 weeks, she can respond however she wants to.  I’m tired of being the one who has to listen to the school apologize for other kids and parents.  You know what, it’s time for you to apologize on behalf of the Chinese kid who stood up for herself and quit taking crap.  She’s not a “meek” child.  She is a well-mannered child who is learning to choose her battles.  Unfortunately, you are making it hard for her to differentiate between a battle and a regular day at school.  It’s a blur because they are virtually one in the same.

To those who want to know what makes my opinions right and theirs wrong?  I tell you.  It’s facts.  You don’t have to do mounds of resarch.  G00gle it.  It’s fact.  It’s common sense stuff, people.  Stop gossiping.  Stop it.  Stop it.  Be an adult and STOP IT.  You want to pick a fight, do it with me.  I am the representative of my family.  I am dying to let you know how it feels to be belittled and made to feel inadequate.

I am a nice person.  Most days one of the nicest people you’ll meet.  I say that with my head high and with confidence that you can not take away from me. This bullsh*t is making me less nice and I don’t like it.
To wrap up all this rambling that is a direct result of my level of disgust:  You suck and I’m not going to take your crap anymore and I’m going to let my child handle it how she feels is fit.  If she chooses to continue taking the high road, then I’m proud of the little person she is.  If she chooses to tell you how she feels in her own words and way, I’m still proud of the little person she is.  But I will tell you this, if she sheds one tear…one 1/100000 of a tear, I’m stepping in and will likely use words that will make my mother’s jaw drop.  You’ve been warned and I might just do it anyway.

Life at Chateau L hasn’t been all sunshiney and picket fences of late.  There have been some ups and downs.  Quite honestly, more downs than ups.  There have been days where I didn’t know which way I should turn and how I could manage to make one more decision.  It’s been trying, to say the least, and while I try to remember all the good I have going, the down side of it has been really, really down and it makes it super difficult to keep forging on.  With that comes feelings of failure.  Being a failure has always been one of my biggest fears.  I mean, who wants to fail?

My new card reader is sitting on my nightstand waiting to be plugged in to download pictures from vacation last NOVEMBER.  There are pictures from Christmas and New Year’s people want to see.  Then there’s Fabul-O’s fifth birthday party.  Her first milestone party.  Five.  Can you believe it?  In my bout of lacklusterness, depression, hibernation, or whatever you want to call it, I didn’t post about our four year anniversary of being a family.  I re-read my original blog post from the day I boarded the flight to China.  I relived that whole day right down to the Chinese man who insisted on eating grape tomatoes at the gate in Chicago and me trying not to heave all over the terminal.  I relived a fight Will and I had.  I relived every moment and every emotion of that trip and it made me sad.  It made me sad because I was finally going to achieve a level of life I had longed so much for…being a mom.  I have been sucked into a vortex and I can’t seem to get out of it.

Way back when I posted about doing the Marine Corps Mud Run in the fall.  I have lacked the desire and motivation to get started training.  I have a dear bloggy friend, who I’m truly inspired by, but I let my own pity and wallowing stand in my way of getting ready for it.  I have the shoes.  I have the earbuds that *shouldn’t* pop out when I run.  I have the gym membership to begin getting fit.

I have let myself sink to a low that I’m having trouble regaining ground from.  People who see me face to face don’t see this.  There are two people in my “real” life who have heard the heartache and anguish I’ve been going through.  It’s hard to admit failure and it’s even harder to try and get back on your feet from it.

There were some pretty exciting changes that had been on the horizon for Chateau L that are no longer even a glimmer.  I don’t know if they ever will be.  Certain parts of my future are uncertain.  As much as I want the white picket fences and bright, sunshiney skies….they just aren’t here right now and I don’t know when I will be able to see them.

When my alarm goes off in the morning, I will get up and start my day and hope that the hardness in my heart will be soft once again.  Forgiveness isn’t something I’ve ever been good at, and, as much as I want to be good at it, I am simply struggling so hard with it.

One of these days I’ll show you the pictures of the one reason most of you still hang around, but getting that spark just isn’t there.

Tomorrow I start my Couch-to-5k training.  I am hoping to be able to run my first 5K in 8 weeks.  We’ll see, I suppose.

Yes, comments are disabled.

…Yeah, you know me…

I hate trying to figure out where to stay when I visit a city.  Some places we visit over and over I have my set places. Not a problem.  I try to stay within one particular chain just because I have the best success with walking across the room and not worrying about my socks getting dirty.  Seriously.

For everywhere else, holy cripes…it takes me FOREVER to figure out where to stay.  Like the return trip from Dizney Werld, for example.  We’re stopping in Sa*van*nah on the way home and it’s been YEARS since we were there and I have no clue as to where we stayed.  So, for the past week or three, I’ve been stressing over it.  Where should we stay?  How much do we want to pay?  I know the area we want to stay, so that narrowed down the 139 choices on Tr*vel0city down to just slightly over 100 and when I took out the one and two star places, I still had about 70 choices.  The F0ur P0ints Sherat0n was a kicking special with good location, but the reviews were bad.  Then there was the non-chain hotel that would have been nice and it was priced reasonably and there was no valid reason to NOT choose that one.  Except for the other non-chain hotel that was sooo quaint, but it was a little higher priced, but would have been neat to stay there.  Then there’s the Ec0n0-L0dge that I could have paid $39 for off the interstate, driven to the historic district and not had this anxiety.   Damn self-inflicted anxiety.  It gets the best of me.  Well, since Will went to bed early and Fabul-O has zero interest in talking about it, I had to do something.  I mean, vacation starts soon.  Verrrrry soon.  I used Pric3line dot com.  I’ve never used them before.  Evah.  Talk about anxiety? They didn’t bite at my four-star hotel for $75.  Mixed emotions…I didn’t have to give up control of deciding where to stay, even though every freaking search engine knows my dates and preferences by heart and Firef0x is so tired of searching for me, it just shuts down when it sees me coming.  As I got ready to click to close my screen, I had to give it one more shot.  So, I threw in a 3-1/2 star rating and threw caution to the wind.  Next thing I know, my heart is beating rapidly, I have no color in my face and I’m sweating.  My offer was accepted and my credit card charged.  Imagine a slow-motion run like I’m trying to catch a Faberge egg flying through the air with a long, drawn out “Noooooooo.”  Except it wasn’t out loud… it was a silent struggle because Will is strapped into his flight mask (CPAP) snoring away and Olivia is dosed up on cough med/decongestant and if Pom Pom hears me, she’ll want to go out and I’m not in the mood to wipe muddy paws this late. But the feeling was there.  I did it.  I gave up control and have a room.  I couldn’t even focus my eyes to see where it put us at first….Not bad….we’re staying here. I saved about $45-50 off the lowest discounted rate I could find, so I guess that’s pretty nifty.

Will I use Pric3line again?  I don’t know.  It’s too freaking stressful for me.  Now I’m wondering if I should have put a lower offer in to see if it would have been accepted.  See the imaginary stress?!?!  gah.

Now I have to book a hotel for the stop on the way down.  I know which one I’m choosing, but I always get buyer’s remorse and wonder if I made the right decision and my fellow travel mates aren’t that much help.  They’re the last ones who want to help, but aren’t shy about their displeasure. *sigh*

You’d think I would have done it by now.  Since I need it in, ohhhh, two  days.  Can’t use P.line because there are too many choices that could be for that stop. And I just don’t have the mental capacity for it.  Sad, huh?  But I certainly can’t be the only one who has useless anxiety.

Oy vey…free my mind……………………
Oh, yeah….insomnia is kicking my arse this week. I need this vacation. Desperately.



It started with a text:

Dear Thelma,
Will you run away with me?


To which I replied:

Only if I can drive.  Love, Thelma.

She agreed.

I followed it up with:

Maybe we should fly in case we both want to drink.

I heard the tabs popping from here…she agreed.

Then the conversation – somehow – moved on to dying/burying/cremation.  I know, twisted conversation for someone who lost half her body weight in tears when she picked out flowers for her husband’s pre-planned funeral.  Will and I have this little “extra” policy and one day he asked me what I was going to do with it.  I (sort of) jokingly told him I was going to have him made into a diamond.   Just the carbon.  I’ve threatened to put the rest of him in a Ziploc bag and carry him in my purse so whenever I get ticked at him, I can just take a pinch and stomp on him.  He rolls his eyes and I continue to design my setting.  Don’t get mad, he’s cut corners on me, too.  But not as many because I plan to come back and haunt.

Apparently, decorative wood boxes are the way to go.

These aren’t hip.  But duuude…they’re cheap.  I had to clip the “box tops for education” coupons for “pimping for private schoool’s” first fundraiser.  Hope I didn’t nick any of the bags….that gets into double bagging and expenses I’m not prepared to absorb.*


*I’m just kidding….or amI? 😀

I skipped weigh in last week.  I simply couldn’t bring myself to go.  

I went tonight and lost 1.4 lbs.   


So, I was checking out a fellow blogger today and she ‘fessed up about her exercising (or lack there of), dietary habits and all things that affect her.  I’m here to ‘fess up a bit.

In 2004, I lost almost 50 lbs on Weight Watchers.   Will deployed in ’05 and I ate Big Macs.  A lot of them.  If I remember correctly , they are 14 pts. and I budgeted for them.  I also ate Taco Bell so much, they got to know my voice at the drive thru and I had to start going to another one.   I gained about 10 lbs.  I was fine with that.

He came home and life settled in and it settled on my hips.  My too cute jeans got too tight.

Then came Olivia.  I lost the 20 lbs I gained in next to no time due to learning to be a mom to a fantastic toddler.

The cycle kept going.  Weight up.  Weight down.  Weight up.  Weight down.  Then the cycle changed.  Weight up.  Weight up.  Weight up.   This is where I’m at.

I’m a stress eater.  There are so many times when I have zero will power.  I try to keep those things that break me away, but sometimes I find myself around them and I can’t help it.   With problems that came about Chateau L, I would find myself indulging.   Problems would fade and so would some of my eating, but not enough of them.  As the intensity of problems increased, the worse my eating would get.  I found myself in the comfort of a burger blanketed with cheese and a side of fries followed by a delightfully fudgy dessert.  Desserts…the old joke is “desserts is stressed spelled backwards.”  It’s true.

I can count the times I’ve since rejoined WW and fallen off the wagon.  I always say, “tomorrow” or “come Monday.”  Yes, come Monday – just like Jimmy Buffet says, “come Monday it will be alright.”  You know, Monday comes and it’s not alright.  Not for me and people who are like me.

I saw a counselor not too long ago and she kept saying, “people like you,” “people who are in your position,” “those who act like you.”   People like me is people who think they have to be in constant control of everything or they are failing.  People who can’t say no for fear of letting others down.  People who soothe themselves when no one else can or will.  Maybe others can’t or won’t because people like me don’t give them the opportunity.  Little Debbie, our favorite Chinese restaurant, the guy at the Italian restaurant who makes Alfredo sauce fresh upon ordering and the plate holds about four servings and I eat it all.  They can all soothe me.  They have been.

I need to get a grip on what is going on in my life and change the things I can and learn to accept the things I can’t.  I believe there are more that I can’t change and it frustrates me.   It frustrates me to no end.

I rejoined WW and had a successful first week back. -2.4 lbs.   I weigh in on Tuesdays and it’s also the night I treat myself to something I want.  I did that last week.  Friday was a bit of a hectic day at work.  I wanted a burger.  No problem.  Whatever.  I met Will at Chili’s and I had a burger.  This was after the HUGE order of chips and salsa.  I did have black beans instead of fries.  But I had a few big ‘ol frosty libations.   They were followed by a molten hot fudge cake topped with a scoop of delicious ice cream.  I did pick the hard shell off.  But it didn’t stop there.  Saturday, Olivia and I went to Ikea and I had their delicious meatballs with mashed potatoes.  Pizza for dinner.  I ate so badly all weekend.  Then Chinese on Monday.  I couldn’t stop.  I did what I knew I shouldn’t…I skipped weigh in on Tuesday.  I need to go on Saturday so I don’t miss a week, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to bring myself to do it.

Prom season is here.  For those who may be new around me blog, a local radio station has a second chance prom to benefit their children’s charityLast year Will couldn’t go…he was with the Guard.  The year before we had a blast.  I bought a little black dress.  It’s a pretty dress.  It was a GREAT deal.  The problem: It almost zips.   Yes, you read that right: I bought a great dress that almost zips.  I need it to fit.  Otherwise, I feel like I’m slipping back into that failure slot, which is where I feel like I’ve been way too long.  I have until April 25.  I can do it.  I will do it.

There you have it.  My laundry is aired.  Hopefully I’m refreshed and renewed.

Be well,

It’s What Day?!?

August 2020

Wanna tell me something?

Email Me potandkettle (at) gmail (dot) com

A Little Dusty, But Still A Good Read

How My Words Are Filed