A Chocolate Bar

So I was losing weight, exercising, feeling better… getting the spiritual life into better order...

And then...

I got some game changing news on Friday…and ATE all weekend through my grief. Yup I am an emotional eater.

Today, at my weigh in, I had gone in ENTIRELY the wrong direction… and it doesn’t matter that this is when I retain water in any given month, that I had a valid excuse for my overindulgence excursion, and so on…

The day got worse as I learned of three of my little ones from work passing away… and reading about another boy, slowly being blinded by this wicked disease, EB…

I bought a Snickers bar, intent on soothing my crushed spirit that grieved for these poor families who have truly suffered loss…

Karen told me I didn’t need it, but I wouldn’t listen. The apple I ate did not fill the void. But on my way back from the candy machine, I stopped at Donna’s desk, and she repeated Karen’s message.

I left the Snicker bar with her. Not sure if I was going to go back to her in the afternoon to claim it, but right in that moment, I did not crave it.

I did not need it.

The loving support of my two dear friends was enough to get me past the craving…

I did not want it.

I can hardly recognize the me I was at that moment. Hurt, unhappy, and NOT solving the problem with food.

Victory!

1983

In 1983, I was sixteen and spending a long summer in Ireland on my Granny’s farm between Clones and Newbliss in Monaghan. I wore my hair in pigtails, spent a lot of time in my favorite old flannel shirt and loose fitting jeans, feeding calves and helping where I could. I soaked up the world that surrounded me.

My Granny baking bread in her wood burning stove, my uncles at work in the milking parlor, butter that was so rich it seemed a distant cousin to the butter to which I was accustomed, fresh apple cake made with the harvest from the apple trees in the yard, the rolling hills, all of it filled my consciousness.

I missed my friends and life back home…but only a little. I wrote volumes, trying to explain the every day events that were so foreign. The beautiful blue of a cow’s eyes… killing the chicken that became dinner and plucking the feathers after dipping it in scaling hot water, the poor crippled calf that I fed by hand, the roughness of his tongue as he suckled my fingers while learning to drink from a bucket… and the laugh of being sprayed with the milk when he snorted…

Traveling to the North, the Troubles on display in the form of British border guards armed to the teeth and pillboxes embedded in the hillside. Having to leave someone in the car so it couldn’t be blown up, checkpoints anywhere- everywhere. Machine guns set in open car windows, questions to answer… it is harder than you think…

Silage time, tractors and men working, dinner in shifts, women packing the kitchen and cooking all day, picking gooseberries and black currents by Tommy’s house in the back field, making jam… Boiling the berries and making jam…

The accidental boyfriend…didn’t see that coming, “Will I see you again?”, as if I would understand, Anne Marie’s surprise and my aunts laughing till tears came. Still funny almost 30 years later. How can it be so long ago when I remember it like yesterday?

Why all the memories now? The friend request on Facebook from the accidental boyfriend brought it all back. Yes, I accepted.

Tai Chi and Me

Confession Time.

I think Tai Chi is weird. No offense to those who are really into it, but really- WAY out of my comfort zone…

I don’t mind the stretching and the movements, but really- my chi will leave out of my feet is I am bare-foot?

That is a little too “New Age” for me.

And feeling my “inner chi”? In the deep of my abdomen… To find my balance…Good Grief!

I will keep going…I need the exercise. But I am just not buying into all the stuff that comes with it.

The Feast!

Okay, in New York we call the church carnivals with all the food and rides and games of chance The (fill in church name here) feast... Because it is the feast day of whichever Saint the Church is named after. And I think it is a Catholic Church thing.

Here, they are called Festivals...festive atmosphere...I get it.

They last for three days- Friday thru Sunday, and the goals are to have a great time and spend money, not necessarily in that order.

I attended the St Gabriel's feast over the weekend and had a great time, and even stayed with the healthier choices- grilled corn instead of the cheezeburger and fries. I listened to the band, lost a bit of money at the blackjack table, and actually ran into someone I know- this rarely happens to me in Ohio, so it was a pleasent surprise.

I met some friends, was introduced to their friends, and before I knew it the festival was over, it was 11:30pm and the girls I was driving home were STARVING.

Steak and Shake it was...

So by the time we ate, I dropped the girls home and drove home myself, it was 1:30am Sunday morning.

8am Mass came early, let me tell you...

Can't wait till the next Feast...Festival...

Double-dipping real estate

According to Zillow.com, my house is now valued at $96,400 (with a range of $79,000 to $122,000). The fact that I still owe over $113,000 on it makes me a little sick to my stomach. And that does not include the $25,000 I have spent in renovations and improvements over the last 5 years.

This week, I read about the housing market and the double dip thing, and cringed. Housing prices could drop another 25% before we reach bottom. Which means (according to Zillow) I could be looking at a value of $72,300 (with a range of $59,250- $91,500) by the time the market bottoms out. Worst case scenario, my house will be worth $59,000 and I will be underwater by over $53,000.

I have no idea how long the real estate market will take to recover, or when my house will ever have equity. Many folks in my situation would consider a strategic foreclosure, and some have urged me to walk away from my very underwater homestead.

I won’t even consider it.

I borrowed the money; I will pay it back, because it is the right thing to do. But that isn’t the whole story.

You see, I love my house. I never thought I would own my own home, and I love it. I love my pool, I love my brand new bathroom, I love my pretty kitchen. I love my piece of the American dream.

I also didn’t buy this place as a short term investment. I bought it as my forever home. My nomad days of 25 addresses in 10 years are a thing of the past. So unless something happens to drastically change my situation, I am staying put, making improvements and loving my home.

And staying off Zillow…for my sanity…

Vision

On June 15, 2011, Stephanie Bryant, cofounder of (in)courage.me wrote about vision:

According to George Barna, vision is a “clear mental picture of a preferable future imparted by God to His servants based on an accurate understanding of God, self & circumstance.”

But the secret to having vision for your life? To cling to the Father, to know His mind and heart for you. To know who you are in Christ. And to be aware of your surroundings and landscape that you’ve been planted in.

A clear mental picture of where I want to be in the future…

Know who I am in Christ…

I hesitate- I have not had enough coffee for such a profound project…

When I was younger, I had a huge vision. A plan I had devised when I was in 8th grade that took me to my twenties. That vision got me through some very hard times. Focusing on the goals I set helped me move forward when all I wanted to do was stay in bed and eat chocolate.

In a class in Nursing School, they made us write our five year plan as part of a scholarship application. It was to include personal as well as professional goals. I wrote about wanting my private pilot’s license, passing the RN exam, reading War and Peace, the Bible and Gone with the Wind and serving as a Peace Corps volunteer in a hospital in Africa. An odd hodgepodge of things.

Surprising nobody more than myself, I was awarded the Rudin Scholarship. $1,000- A real fortune. I was carrying 17 credits at the time so I could graduate in June, and the award allowed me to work a little bit less, and was a huge blessing. (Over a decade later, I met the Rudins at an event and was able to thank them personally for this tremendous gift.)

Did I achieve all my goals? I passed the Nursing Boards, read the books while I served in the Peace Corps, but I served in Guatemala, not Africa. I bootlegged flying lessons from my friend Julius- an incredible gift- but my vision issues made a private license impossible.

So I need a new five year plan. I need to decide where my preferred future lies. I am going to need to work on this, ponder it, and figure out where I am going or I will never get there.

I will keep you posted.

Agape

Agape is a shift in perspective; a game changer that should help us feel settled deep down in our bones, believing in the One to whom we belong. Once we know this love we also feel inspired to wear His garments with joy instead of a sense of obligation

Just the reminder that I am beloved of God gave me the nurture and confidence to put the trifling wound in its proper place and get on with my day…

Our book club thoughts on Chapter 3 of The Fitting Room… but I am still struggling to have faith…

I feel unchosen.

Unchosen by my children. The reason I live, work and do. And I am unchosen.

Unchosen by the man I loved. Still love. Will always love.

Aching over the loss I have endured. Four months later he is in a new chapter of his life, and I am still drowning in grief.

So God, what do you want me to do with what happened? What am I supposed to learn from this crushing loss, this fractured heart? What is the take away message?

What part of Rick leaving is for my protection? Where is the opportunity, God, that you are providing with his absence?

Are You trying to build my maturity level? Because I don’t feel mature. I just feel old.

The Miracle Arrival

After the return of my insurance check due to a missing endorsement, I found out from my insurance agent that my mortgage holder, in addition to the check required:

1) the appraisal of damages
2) a notarized affidavit stating these damages were true and accurate

Without these items, they would not endorse the check.

Fine.

I found the appraisal. I got the affidavit of the damages notarized. Sent it to the appropriate department and waited a week.

And the check was sent back to me WITHOUT A SIGNATURE. They had put the Nationstar stamp on it. They even wrote in my name.

Then they mailed it back to me without a signature.

Seriously?!?!

All they had to do was sign it and they screwed it up?!?!

I was IRATE calling the department. Someone took the time to stamp the check and write my name then sent it back UNSIGNED! How do these people have a job when so many are out of work?

I could send it back overnight mail (at my own expense) and they would sign it and overnight the check to me.

I mailed the check back…and waited…over a week… Did I mention the office is one town south of mine? So I call to find out if they received the check- yes it was received- yes it was endorsed- and yes it was mailed back…regular mail…

I wrote to the CEO of Nationstar. They sell mortgages all the time. I begged him to sell mine. I miss Flagstar...I loved Flagstar...

I got the check in the mail yesterday- and it is endorsed. It can be deposited.

A Miracle!

Summer Update

So I have lost 12.2 pounds, even with backslides, bad days and an ice cream cake taking up residence in my freezer.

Talk about challenging. I am in Second Place in our Work version of The Biggest Loser and really want to win.

And I have completed my first full week of exercise classes. My legs hurt, my knees protest, but there is no stopping me now.

Tai Chi is a little bit more New Age than I am used to, but since I am trying new things and I worked up a sweat, I will stick with it.

Salsa- with, of all things, a male instructor, made my calves burn. I am really bad- can’t move my top with my bottom never mind the Cuban movement- but it was great moving to the music.

Belly-dancing is really difficult- my body just doesn’t move that way at all. And I don’t know that it ever will. But Lindsey, Heather and I made it to the end of the hour…I don’t want to talk about how sore I was after.

I stayed for the dance after my swing class in Covington. Bruce and I cut a rug and had a great time. I am starting to get the hang of it, finally. And with Bruce’s help, I may learn to blow glass this summer.

The big surprise was Zumba- WOW! It was the Cardiac Workout it promised to be but our instructor was so much fun! Lindsey and I had a great time. And at almost 1000 calories a workout, it was INTENSE. Can’t wait for next Saturday.

I have just finished Chapter 4 of Made to Crave and Chapter 5 of The Fitting Room.

What are you doing for yourself this week?

25 Mitchell

25 Mitchell

Today was the celebration of the Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit comes down onto the apostles of Jesus, which has been called the birth of the Church. I went to services at Queen of Peace, and afterwards had breakfast with Ann and Gail and my cousins, the Dillhoffs.

We were all ready for the challenge of the day. It was time to clear out all the things at 25 Mitchell- the house first purchased by Teresa and shared by Teresa and Ellen till Teresa married Andy McCool. Ellen lived there and it was where I stayed while I was transitioning my life to Ohio in 2006.

When Ellen and John combined their lives, she moved to Anderson, and Grandma and Jerry sold the house in Reading and moved into 25 Mitchell.

Jerry, Grandma’s single brother, had lived with her since losing his farm in 1989. They had moved into Ellen’s house to be closer to Ann and Gail. And when Grandma died, Jerry enjoyed the company of his nearby family. He was surrounded by his family when he died just days after Christmas from surgical complications.

Ann and Gail had the task of emptying the contents of a lifetime from the house- giving treasures to each of the children, clearing out all the items “saved” for a special occasion… It brought back memories of all the things my mom saved…she too left behind treasures new in their packages, saved for a special occasion.

Now was time to decide between Goodwill donate-able items and stuff that needed to be discarded. A dumpster sat in the driveway and everyone pitched in. Within three hours the dumpster was overfilled, everyone had cars full of things to take home, and the Goodwill pile filled a room. Hopefully all of it will find a new home.

The house is to be rented out by a man moving closer to his folks. The house is a good fit for him. We just need to finish cleaning it up and it will be ready to rent.

Nothing is so strong as gentleness and nothing is so gentle as real strength ~ Ralph W. Sockland

Nothing is so strong as gentleness and nothing is so gentle as real strength ~ Ralph W. Sockland

I am sad today. I am trying to reconcile my new life to my expectations, and am coming up short. I don’t want to be alone. I am impatient and sad. I dread the loneliness of my nights. And I am not sleeping.

My job is wearing me down, and I no longer have Rick to help pull me through my bad days.

My daughter is wearing me down, and Rick is no longer the calm voice in my ear.

I miss the “we” I used to be with him.

Not perfect. We both had flaws and issues- but I came to see his imperfections as a fundamental part of him and nothing I needed to change.

I was happy to wait for him to fully commit to me. Because I really thought he would, eventually, and I was in no rush. I was content with us just being where we were.

Rick was not content. And he did not commit. Instead he said goodbye. Gently and with love. And he moved on.

And now he has told his girl he loves her. And I am happy for them both. They deserve to be happy.

And I am sick in my soul.

I ache.

My heart hurts.

Don’t I deserve to be happy too?

A one-car garage

When I bought my house, my friend Peggy said I should not consider a house that did not have a full basement, and that I absolutely had to have a garage, preferably attached.

The house I purchased has both- a finished full basement and a one car garage.

Of course, that makes it sound like a car lives in it, which could not be further from the truth.

Everything but the kitchen sink lives in my garage- and even the kitchen sink was in there when I remodeled the kitchen. Yard tools, a second fridge, furniture on it's way in or out, toys, bikes, pool stuff and junk- junk that needs to be donated or thrown out...

There is NO hope of getting a car in there.

But that is all changing now. Motivated by my party this weekend, and the fact that I have not found the gate key (no, I didn't lose it- it is in the house somewhere) I decided to clean out the garage so my company has direct access to the backyard.

And decluttering was a resolution I made in January. Time to get on that...

Except...

My garage is filthy.

Dust, dirt, and junk... gross spiderwebs...

How long has it been since I cleared out anything, you ask?

Well, I discovered the box for the microwave that was installed in 2008, if that gives you any indication. At least I didn't find any life forms beyond spiders- but I think I have my cat to thank for that blessing.

I have worked on it for several days, and am starting to see signs of improvement. I threw away a bunch of stuff last week.

Last night, another full recycle bin, recliners and the remnants of an old tv stand joined three (very full) garbage cans at the curb... and I am PRAYING Rumpke takes it all with them before I get home.

But it is still not a one-car garage- unless it is a really little one (think SmartCar small)- it is more of a half car garage with one car potential. But winter is a long way off,(I hope) and that's really when you want to park indoors anyway.

Next stop is a basement cleanout... I will declutter...I will throw away... I will donate...

I am a woman on a mission.

D-Day

On this day in 1944- the Allied forces went ashore at Normandy. The Longest Day, Saving Private Ryan, and Band of Brothers all give the Hollywood version of that day.

My cousin's neighbor was there, and a couple of years ago, I was able to talk to him about what he had experienced.

He passed away not too long ago... Many of the heros from that day are gone. But I wanted to make sure to say THANK YOU for their sacrifice. Those young men and women did nothing less than save the world.

What a Day...

First thing Saturday morning, I took my son John to the airport in Northern Kentucky, and said goodbye to him as he and his father headed to New York City for the summer. I didn't cry or embarrass him. George gave me a gift for Liz and I was off...

I went home, showered and changed, did the everyday house cleaning stuff... got to fit it in where you can. I looked longingly at my pool, wishing I could dive in. Liz arrived home with hair and make-up done looking so beautiful. She rushed to get ready as the graduates had to be there by twelve. I ate a sensible lunch, put on my high heels (A BIG MISTAKE) and headed to Xavier to watch my baby graduate from high school.

Did I mention it was HOT!!

I arrived, as instructed by my daughter at 2pm and had to park half a mile away from the Cintas Center. So me, in my heels, on a very hot day, had to hike across to get to the Center.

And discovered I would be standing through the ceremony.

In heels.

My feet hurt already.

I watched as Liz and her friends went up for their diplomas...I was miles away and took a bunch of photos of them- at the distance you can't tell it is them, but I know my kids.

After the crowd moved outside, I met up briefly with Liz, who was going to graduation parties- hers isn't till next week.

I walked back to the car. My feet were on fire. I could feel the blisters on the arches and toes. I felt like I was melting.

Luckily my Honda has amazing A/C.

Since I was way too early for Lyle's party, my next stop was Barnes and Noble, across from Smokey Bones. I sat and had coffee in the cafe area and resisted the urge to take off my shoes, knowing full well I would never get them on again.

The flaw in my logic of hanging out in the book store was, of course, that it was a book store...An hour and a hundred dollars later, I went over to Smokey Bones for the party.

Lyle was stunned to see all of us- he really had not expected the crowd at dinner, and he was delighted to get his Ipad (well really an IOU for the one being delivered next week)

After dinner it was off to the Back Porch for adult beverages (no, I did not drive home) and the night just flew by. A good time had by all...

“All you cared about was stupid Rick- and see how that turned out…”

“All you cared about was stupid Rick- and see how that turned out…”

Ouch!

During my recent confrontation with my daughter, neither of us was being very kind to one another when she let that one fly…

She is convinced I love Rick, John, my son, everyone but her…

Liz never warmed to my now former fellow- she was, I think, a little jealous of my close relationship with him. I think she fails to see how many times he supported her side of whatever battle we were having, talking me down from the outraged mother, helping me calm myself. Reminding me she was a good kid. Because he knew my fears.

I was, at the moment of her comment, at very high volume, grounding her for having friends and adult beverages at my house. The fact that I could be arrested for her act of callous disregard for the law seemed lost on her.

In this battle I was not the good calm parent- I was ABSOLUTELY FLIPPING OUT. Totally won a BAD PARENT award for this one. I yelled at her. I yelled at her friends. I sent them all home. I smashed beer bottles…I hit my child…

I hit the love of my life. I lost control in that moment of anger and hit her.

I have a LONG family history of substance abuse and alcoholism is a devastating family trait. My NO TOLERANCE drinking/drugs policy is not a secret. I am not the “cool” mom who is “okay” with it. And this is not a secret. Never has been.

Never gonna happen!

Clearly this was not our first battle on this topic.

But I love my daughter. I get that being 17 is hard. I get that having a parent-free house with a pool on a day in the 90s is hugely tempting.

But WHY okay the beer? Why not just tell them- my mom is insane about that so we can’t?

Yes, I am terrified that she could be the one who ends up with a problem… that she could end up an alcoholic like so many relatives before her.

I cannot live with a drunk again. Even one I love more than my own life. I cannot give up anymore of my life to that horrific disease. I will not!

But I struck my baby in anger. And broke my own heart by hurting hers. May God forgive me.