Most Important Meal of the Day

How bad can your day be when you start off with Wham! and Irish Oatmeal with pumpkin and raisins?

One of my many transformative projects is getting my eating under control.  It's not so much about weight control -although saying adios to 10 pounds wouldn't kill me - as it is about sanity and health.  I binge at work because I fluctuate between despair, boredom and stress every fifteen minutes.  Thank goodness that I don't work for a posh corporation with well stocked mini-kitchens every ten feet.  I visited a friend at Google once, I gained ten pounds just walking through the building.  I can readily admit to having no self-control.  Me and unlimited fro-yo would be a bad combination.

A few weeks ago I felt this incredible need to shop, but no dinero.  Luckily we had a stack of gift cards that have been floating around for years.  I took the kid on a shopping spree at Gap Kids (thanks Grammy), hit Barns and Noble and Williams-Sonoma.

I have to admit to being overwhelmed at W-S.  I am a total gadget whore, but geez, there it was too much.  I ultimately decided to buy a cookbook.  The kid and I narrowed down the choices to French Cooking and Eating Well.  In her infinite 4 year-old wisdom she choose the cookbook Eat Well.

It's a basic cookbook.  Lots of olive oil, kosher salt and roasted things, but it has gorgeous photos and gave me lots of good ideas for meals - especially breakfast.  Is it weird that I am 35 years old and I don't really know how to feed myself?  I mean, know how to feed myself, but I don't feel like I'm in charge of what I eat.

I grew up in a household where every meal was the same...but just a little bit different.  Every meal had a piece of meat, frozen veggies, a starch and an iceberg lettuce salad with carrot and hard boiled egg (With the yolks removed, thank you very much!).   I thought that eating fresh veggies was something that required a lot of time and effort.  I thought that broccoli was supposed to be that sickly puke green color.  We didn't blanch, we boiled the shit out of everything.

I went to college and ate in the dining hall.  When I was 23 and living with roommates, I certainly  never thought about eating well, and then I lived with Wifey.  She is the cook in the family.  She takes the time to make herself a meal.  If I'm at home and I'm hungry I will go the the refrigerator ten separate times for individual slices of lunch meat rather than make myself a sandwich.   So I never feel truly full, I never feel that I've taken a break, and I end up over eating.

The thing is, I don't necessarily want to eat the way I did in my mid-western childhood, but I feel like I still need my own food identity.  Weird, right?  Seriously, though, how you feed yourself is intensely personal and totally subjective. (Just try and convince me that bleu cheese does not taste like dirty feet.) How can we ever feel satisfied if we don't take some time to figure that kind of stuff out.  What does my body like?  What makes me happy?  What will make me healthy?  I think that the answers to these questions are different for every person.  I think that part of my journey is taking more responsibility for myself.  The core stuff - my health and emotional well being.  I can't believe that I am about to quote an animated movie in connection to my mental health, but as Chef Gusteau says, "Anyone can cook."


Anyway, inspired by my new cookbook and with a rare opportunity to go grocery shopping in the early afternoon I decided to make three dishes - butternut squash soup, a gratin of winter root vegetables, a bean and pancetta dish and pumpkin oatmeal.

Have you ever tried to peel a butternut squash?  Did you know that one, not THREE, butternut squashes will yield nine cups?  A lesson learned without losing a finger.  I'll call that a success.

I'm also thankful that the kid's highly flammable Cinderella costume that she has taken to putting on everyday after school did not catch fire when she stirred the coconut milk and curry paste into the soup. 

My last project of the evening was the oatmeal.  I made myself an omelet on Monday morning and took the time to eat it, even though it made me late to leave the house, and I felt good all morning.  What? Eating real food, not sugar, gives you energy???  I made breakfast, portioned it in to-go containers and had it ready to go...ahead of time!  Oatmeal with pumpkin (canned), cinnamon, brown sugar and raisins is awesome ten ways until Sunday.  Seriously.  It was such an awesome breakfast.

I feel a little teary just thinking about it.

Looking forward to breakfast,
Elsie

A Boss Lady Takes Care of Business

It is a time for epiphanies and getting down to business. A few nights ago Wifey stayed up until some ungodly hour organizing the garage.  It looks much, much better, but in the end, it's still just a bunch of our crap only presented in a much more palatable way.  What is it that we're holing onto in there?

This was Wifey's take on the situation....

We pursued these dreams with our whole hearts. But then we moved on, and it's time for the garage to reflect that. I know deep down that we won't be returning to those pursuits (no more catering in my future, or beta fish, for that matter), simply because our dreams are bigger now. Our life experiences have broadened our capacity to pursue all our grand ideas, but unless I unload the remnants of dreams already lived, we won't have room for them.

I just started a new book this morning called, London Calling by Edward Bloor.  The main character's observation of his mother hit me like a ton of bricks:

Mom doesn't live in the present at all.  She lives in the past and in the future, but not in the present.  She hates the present.  The present is all bad for her; it is a punishment time that she has to endure.

Whoa.   Here is something that I never want my kid to say about me, but I can see it happening.  I can feel myself doing it.  I'm not necessarily one to glorify the past, but I am always waiting for some glorious future.  The future where I am a published author.  The future where I am a successful photographer.  The future in which I have a thriving community built on fully realized relationships.

I feel like I can see the problem, and now comes the business of fixing it.  Oh thank goodness I have a therapy appointment today.

Open for business,
Elsie

 

Thank you, little blog

I feel like something profound is going to happen.  Something good and I think that my little blog, the blog that no one reads (and that's ok!!!), that is just sitting out there in the internets giving me some small space in which to express myself, has helped.

This has also been, for me, a results oriented blog.  There is a task that I wish to accomplish - moving to New York - and there specific steps that I need to take in order to get there. Many of those steps are not straight forward, but they at least involve forward movement.  It is such a positive outlook.  It is positively un-me.

Maybe that's why it's working.

Yesterday I took, what I think at least, is the biggest step of all.  I made an appointment with a therapist.  I said some words out loud that i never thought I could: childhood trauma, sexual abuse, an incarcerated parent.  I feel so much lighter just for having said those things over the phone to the woman doing the intake, I can't imagine how talking to the actual therapist will feel.

I've always felt like I have been operating at about a third of my full capacity.  I feel like I have the potential for greatness if I could just tap into that part of me that has been inaccesseble. 

Ready to get the party started,
Elsie

Focus People

Help.  This is our list of things that we considered vital to accomplish before trying to get pregnant; thus making us "move ready".  In other words, important shit.  

The stuff in black is the original list that was created back in August. It mostly reflects things associated with getting our house in shape to rent and reducing our clutter.  The current status of each line item is in red. 

• finish border around tree in front yard  (OMG, a task completed.)
• mulch yard (I started on this, but grossly underestimated the amount of mulch we'd need.  Haven't been back to the nursery to get more.)
• backyard - weed and add border to flower beds (I got the river rocks - all 600 pounds of them - and even laid out where they will go, but haven't actually dug anything.)
• find new home for slide/teeter totter  (Friends said that they would take it, but yet, they are still in our yard. Going to e-mail them right now.)
• repair BBQ (Ha!)
• Drip watering system for container plants (I toyed around with some 2 liter bottles and quickly lost interest.)
  
• new plantings for empty pots (We've got the potting soil, and I got the Japanese maple and flowering maple planted. Three pots to go.)  

Garage

• photograph items to sell
• place ads on Craigslist (Got the first round out, but there is still so much random junk that is just too overwhelming.)
  
• donations (Took a trunk load of stuff, but I'm sure that there is more.)
  
• make any repairs necessary
• reduce, reduce, reduce (I'm trying, I'm trying.)
  

Office

• shred old files (These are starting to accumulate, but that's about it.)
• consolidate bills into one filing system
• purchase filing cabinet  (Purchased and assembled by Wifey in 29 minutes. Yes, we timed it.)
  

Living Areas

• continue to purge
• bookshelf -cover books that we're keeping
  
• paint  (Wifey was inspired one morning and painted three walls on-the-fly. While a definite improvement, we still have to finish.)
  
  I feel like a loser.  We've fully completed two tasks.  Two!!!!  How are we going to move?  Are we trying to sabotage our efforts to move?  Are we not ready to make the necessary sacrifices to do this?  We're going on a week long road trip next week, should we stay home and clean instead?  How do you maintain focus in a life that you're trying to escape because it's, well, too complicated.  How do you motivate yourself to expend extra energy when you're so fucking depressed all the time?  When your job is a joy-drainer?  When you're constantly worried about money? 
  
  AAAAAAAGGH! Maybe we should be moving to Duluth instead of New York. 
  
  Please, someone tell me how to do this. 
  
  Sitting a little puddle of doubt and self-pity,
  Elsie
  

Every Little Victory Counts

This little experiment of mine is all about taking chances, right? 

Today I rocked the legwarmers like it was 1984.

I rocked them tucked into the boot, over the boot, pulled high and slouched low.  I felt so fashion forward. These legwarmers have been floating around in my sock drawer for seven years. I bought them for the three months that I decided that ballet was going to be my new form of exercise, never used them, but could never quite bring myself to part with them either.  They're DKNY for Pete's sake! 

We had our first real storm of the season and the rain gave me a stroke of inspiration. Legwarmers.  Legwarmers would a) keep the rain out of my boots, b) make my ten year-old boots that I bought in Italy look hip and happenin', and c) prove to myself that I can take risks (even the tiniest, einsyist, fashion risk), survive and thrive. 

I don't know if anyone else liked my outfit. Actually, and I can say this with absolute certainty, I don't really care.  I felt awesome and I had a spring in my step.  Ha.

Celebrating victories whereever I can get them,

Elsie 

 

Project Updates

Project #2, the CD situation, is a wrap.  Ta-Da!!!

I do realize that in the grand scheme of things, that I have no right to feel so proud of my accomplishment, but I will take my pride where I can get it.

I am proud, proud, proud, I am proud!

It is done.  The assigned task has been seen to completion.  I engaged in adult conversation with my partner to rationally discuss how we approach a shared situation.  I say that it doesn't matter that Wifey didn't really think it was that big of a deal in the first place, or that organizing our CD collection is not physically getting us one step closer to NYC, or that normal people just put their shit away on a regular basis and don't find themselves in this situation.  Whatever.  What matters is that I started this project and finished it.  Doors are closed.  Mind at ease.  So, maybe it's getting us closer to our goal after all!

Also, I have exciting news on Project #1, the garage....the refrigerator is gone!!!!  After two people flaked, and I exchanged e-mails with a half dozen others, Joel, lovely Joel with the big truck, came and took it away.  Every time I pass through the pantry I have to sneak a quick peek into the garage, just to look at the empty space.  It is so divine.

Ready to kick some ass,
Elsie

And the answer is.....

I should be sleeping. The kid is asleep. Wifey is long gone. Even the dogs are asleep. I haven't had a good night of sleep in three days. On Monday night some yahoo was wandering down the street whistling, in a shrill football coach kind of way at three in the morning. Tuesday we stayed up way too late watching The Wire. I'm at the point where I'm not even tired any more, but rather that wired-tired that means that you are really and truly screwed. Yesterday my blood pressure was 141 over 85. I really should go to sleep.

I'm sitting here at the computer, however, because I can't get the question that I posed to myself earlier today out of my head.

Is anger a wholly inappropriate emotion when someone, a friend, says publicly that they want to do the thing that you want to do?

Short answer: Yes, wildly inappropriate.

Long answer: You're angry because you're too scared to make yourself vulnerable. If you make yourself vulnerable, express emotion, give voice to your hope and dreams, people might laugh. Your mother might poke fun and others will disappoint you. Good God, I need a therapist.

When I was in the 4th grade I started taking violin lessons. In the beginning, I was awful. Really, is there anything worse than a nine year-old scratching out Twinkle-Twinkle?

Luckily, my musical abilities improved and I hit a high point in the sixth grade when I made second chair in the school orchestra. All of the other sixth graders, with the exception of my friend Jessica, were second violins, and I felt like the shiz-nits!

Don't worry, there will be no inflated egos here. Because the following year the bar was raised - it was time to introduce a vibrato. Vibrato (all that hand shaking that string players do) makes the music come alive, it adds depth, texture and, you guessed it, emotion.

I couldn't do it. Could. Not. Do. It. It was as if someone was aksing me to stand outside the school naked and read my diary. Through my sophmore year in high school I faked it the best I could, but I started to move further and further back in the pecking order - second chair to third and in my last year, fifth. I was starting to worry that I was going to suffer the ultimate humiliation and get demoted to second violin, so I quit.

Giving up the violin was not the end of my life, but I think the physical manifestation of my fear is just nuts. What else has it prevented me from doing? Ok, I can give two (or ten) examples but those are just the ones that I've thought about. How do you overcome this? By taking risks? Putting it all out there? Picking up the violin again? Maybe this is project #4 - getting sloppy with the emotions.

The whole point of moving is to have the life that I want. The career that I want. If I can't even be honest about what those things are, how are they supposed to happen?

Oh, boy.

No longer willing to be an emotional cripple,
Elsie

Playing It Too Close to the Hand

Is that really a saying? Or is it just, "Playing it too close" or, "Playing a close hand" ?

I don't know, but the point is, when do you cross the line from being simply a "private" person to being weirdly secretive? I need answers because I think that my big toe, hell my whole foot is solidly over that line and maybe has been for a long time and I hope that there is still time to turn back.

I don't have nearly enough time to get into this today, but here are my questions to ponder:

a. Is anger a wholly inappropriate emotion when someone, a friend, says publicly that they want to do the thing that you want to do? (Yes, I know the answer to this is a big fat NO, but why, why, why am I so angry?????)

b. Holy heck, how did this writer, an Aussie at that, crawl into my head and write a book about every feeling that I ever had as a teenager trying to find her place in the world? How, how how???? Go out and read Liar right now!!! I can't wait to finish this book. So much to think about!

Projects, Projects, Projects!

I am quickly finding out that moving two moms, a 4 year-old, and two dogs across the country without anyone losing their mind, their favorite blanket or a tail is going to take a lot of work. Just the logistics are mind boggling, but throw in the whole 80's make it better scene and we are talking about a Kilimanjaro sized goal. Heck, maybe even a K2 or Everest sized goal - it's that big. And, just to make it all the more exciting, we're going to try to have another baby along the way as well!

Yep, you heard right. We're going move, find new jobs, revamp our wardrobes, get some therapy, write a book (me), become the next Annie Leiboviz (also me), record an album (wifey), get out of debt, take two road trips, get our house ready to rent and make a baby. Awesome! Because really, if you're not doing the impossible, what fun is life?

I realize that some of these things might not happen in six months, but (brace yourself, it's cliche time!) this one is going to be about the journey. Yikes, did I just say that?

Achieving these things is really important to me. There is nothing wrong with wanting to feel good about what I do, about my body, accepting my past, creating something beautiful and fulfilling, creating a beautiful family, but for such simple things, they are quite elusive. Maybe this isn't how it is for everyone, but I am getting too old to to keep hoping that one day I will just wake up and have fulfillment shine down upon me from high. It's time to do the work. Shit or get off the pot. Be the change you want to see in the world. Yadda, yadda, yadda,....it's time for action. Maybe by some miracle this all happens in six months, probably not, but I want my feet firmly planted in the right direction.

So action it is.

Phase One: The Home Front, or, how not to lose your frickin' mind when you can never, ever, ever, find anything.

Coming up tomorrow....the garage.

Peace, love and home organization,
Elsie