I am pretty sure I just had the best weekend in a long time. I am still a little red wine cloudy mind you, but all evidence leads me to believe I am a whole lot happier today then I was yesterday. Puffy hungover self and all!
A friend from long ago, came to visit and brought wine. Lots of wine! She is the same beautiful girl from our youth. The heart God gave her is as big as Texas and her nature makes you think she really gives a damn about you. She has the longest legs and the years have not lessened my jealousy. I have a brief moment of my insecure 20 year old self before opening the first bottle of wine.
I try to remember when I last saw her; 8 maybe 10 years. We are women now but our overlapping laughter doesn't indicate this. We trip over each others words; the 'oh my God' and 'you've got to be kidding me' and the 'you wouldn't believe' compete for space at the table.
I borrow the golf cart and take her for a ride after first filling over sized plastic cups with more red wine. We ride to the creek and we talk about her broken heart and my sleeping heart. We talk about how men suck and how we wished one was in our lives. Well, one for each of us. We laugh. Her laugh makes me laugh. We are out of wine so head back. And though we each have an extra 20 pounds in our pocket we don't realize why the cart won't go up the hill. We get out, or she gets out, and discovers we have a flat tire. Out in the middle of the woods, 1/2 way up the hill, with a flat tire and we are at first just a little mad we are out of wine.
We call to be rescued and are only slightly embarrassed. My mother and her husband show up and think we are funny teenagers. Hell, we think we are funny teenagers. To thank them we sit on their porch and drink their beer and homemade peach wine. Or was it watermelon?
Then I remember the pot roast so we head back to my house. Refill the wine glasses. We eat; she treats my food well. It makes me feel good. I am feeling a mix of giddy, gossipy teenager, nurturing friend and brokenhearted grown up as we talk about the dreams we have had that didn't come true and the dreams we are trying to make for ourselves. I tell her how lost I got in this life because all I have ever wanted was to be a wife and mother. And I am neither. She tells we how she doesn't understand why they have broken up and doesn't want to be alone. We both talk about the terrible world of dating and realize we are not alone in this journey. We have just been too far apart for too long. Two kindred spirits struggling on our own.
We take a shot of bourbon and we cry. And we laugh about how we are crying. Open another bottle of wine and say 'to hell with it'!
There was more crying and more laughing, then there was just no more wine. Cindy announces 'I just have to go to bed' and I laugh some more. Morning comes and we have puffy eyes and are still a little drunk. We take a picture of our inventory of empty bottles as a little badge of honor. We laugh some more and eat some more and eventually reach for a recovery beer.
When it is time for her to load up and head home the tears start to well and the throat starts to swell. I miss her already and surmise that everyone on this planet deserves to have a Cindy Campbell in their lives. A girlfriend you may only see once every ten years but are still allowed to let out a good cry and laugh till it hurts! All my dirty little secrets sit safely in the bottom of a nice Cabernet.
Recipes: a beautiful friend and good red wine
Roadtrips: don't let the miles between you separate you...
Renovations: I am so inspired, tomorrow, I lace up the sneakers and start running again...cause I am reminded I have someone to run to!
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Lofty Goals
When I grow up, I want to be just like my Aunt Ruthanne.
I have returned from taking my nieces, Jessica and Katie, and their grandmother, Grandy, on a trip to New York to celebrate Ruthanne's 70th birthday. We loaded up the CRV with a cooler full what ever it was gonna take to make the trip happen. After all, this was for Daddy's kid sister; the one who year after year after year has never missed sending me a birthday card. A card that is often lonely in the mailbox but always personalized and on time.
For weeks we had been planing the trip. Katie will be singing for Aunt Ruthanne and Jessica will be struggling to hold her excitement from Facebook as it is a surprise party!
The drive up was nice. I have driven this route for many weddings and funerals so I forget about the beauty of the drive itself. The sunrise over Lake Hartwell; warm and friendly state patrol in North Carolina; the Appalachian Mountain views through Virginia giving us the feeling of being on top of the world; the lush farmland of Pennsylvania; and the excitement of two teenage girls approaching the City! We listen to REM, and Mary Chapin Carpenter and we talk about who we will see at the party and the places we can go in the city. I feel like the most important person in the world because I have been trusted with such precious cargo.
Our arrival in the city is met with a spectacular storm. I get lost and found about three times before I finally arrive at our cousin Renee's apartment. She is graciously putting us up for the weekend. The apartment is tiny and full of memories and toys from her 7 year old son, Jagger. Everyone hits the sack except for Katie and I. We buckle down to rewrite the Taylor Swift lyrics to reflect the story of Aunt Ruthanne. I am in awe as Katie knows what to say and why we want to say it. She is the wisest 13 year old at this moment. It is 2 or 3 in the morning and we have had a long day but I don't care. I am having special time with Katie and I have no sense of time.
In the morning we have a few hours to explore. We hit the subway as if we know what we are doing. We travel to Fulton Street where we say prayers at Ground Zero. It dawns on me these girls were too young when 9/11 happened and may not truly grasp the significance of us praying here. I try to give them some insight but they on their own are appropriate and respectful. Then Grandy leads the girls to places she use to go as a girl. Where she worked and where Grandpa and her shared sandwiches when they were courting. There is Wall Street and Trinity Church; the girls get a kick out of the Bull. Jessica pushes through the Internationals to grab a photo by the horns.
Then it is time to get ready for the birthday party. The girls dress to make their parents proud and their hair and smiles are beautiful. We hit another NY landmark; traffic on the Long Island Expressway. Despite the wreak at exit 61 we make it on time. We meet people we should know and help with last minute chores. Katie finds Casey, the cousin with the guitar and they retreat to the rehearsal stage. Jess finds little kids not being looked after and looks after them. Grandy finds the wine and other women of a certain age and begins to reminisce. I look for something to do other then soak in the joy.
The food is lovingly prepared by her son Danny; the daughters, Renee, Lisa and Deanna all set the pretty tables with yellow and white to match the daisies. Bill with his dog Marshall keep everyone in line and Michael, the oldest, holds court in the middle of the tent with his infectious laugh.
Turns out the surprise was let out of the bag when the tables and chairs arrived on Thursday. So the Georgia contingency offers the only unexpected of the day. Us and lifelong friend Kay, in from Florida. Aunt Ruthanne enters on a cloud. She floats and is beautiful and nothing about her is 70 except her experience. Ever since I was a little girl I have found comfort in the sound of my Aunt's voice. It is the same blanket I felt in my father's voice. She cusses like a sailor and protects like a momma bear and lives an authentic life.
The meal is done and the kids sing their songs. Katie is belting out and I am so proud I try to soak in all the moment not just with my camera but also with my heart. I don't notice the tears racing down my face I only feel as though my cup has overflowed.
Aunt Ruthanne is front and center and the kids feel so good as the circle goes round. There is drama in other parts of the lawn, something about a missing harmonica and spilled soda on the cake table. But all I see and hear are two teenagers lifting up Aunt Ruthanne and that is all that matters.
We travel back to the city and hope she likes the Honey Pots. We sleep in the next morning then tackle the city again. There is Central Park; The Met; Museum Mile; the diner for lunch where Jess can have Eggs and Hash at 3 in the afternoon. There is Grand Central Station where Katie goes all flashmob miscue commercial on us and then there is Times Square where they scream teenagers as they take 1000 photos including ones with the Naked Cowboy. The trip is complete.
As I drive us home the next morning I reflect. What a special opportunity to take my nieces on this trip. A chance to wish my Aunt a happy birthday in return for all the good wishes she has given me over the years. Walking through Central Park and Times Square with these two beauties. God is good to me.
It is all full circle. I am still aspiring to be like my Aunt - love deeply, give generously, be authentic; and now these nieces are loving deeply and are so generous and are so unique. I have a goal of being the kind of person who people are willing to load up the SUV with pennies in their pocket and come see me for my birthday and sing to me! Maybe even write lyrics...
Recipes: Order pizza in the city with your nieces at 3 am; cause they deserve it!
Roadtrips: Always take the scenic route; and traveling with the ones you love is always scenic.
Renovations: ...I aspire to be authentic...and to follow in some pretty big shoes!
I have returned from taking my nieces, Jessica and Katie, and their grandmother, Grandy, on a trip to New York to celebrate Ruthanne's 70th birthday. We loaded up the CRV with a cooler full what ever it was gonna take to make the trip happen. After all, this was for Daddy's kid sister; the one who year after year after year has never missed sending me a birthday card. A card that is often lonely in the mailbox but always personalized and on time.
For weeks we had been planing the trip. Katie will be singing for Aunt Ruthanne and Jessica will be struggling to hold her excitement from Facebook as it is a surprise party!
The drive up was nice. I have driven this route for many weddings and funerals so I forget about the beauty of the drive itself. The sunrise over Lake Hartwell; warm and friendly state patrol in North Carolina; the Appalachian Mountain views through Virginia giving us the feeling of being on top of the world; the lush farmland of Pennsylvania; and the excitement of two teenage girls approaching the City! We listen to REM, and Mary Chapin Carpenter and we talk about who we will see at the party and the places we can go in the city. I feel like the most important person in the world because I have been trusted with such precious cargo.
Our arrival in the city is met with a spectacular storm. I get lost and found about three times before I finally arrive at our cousin Renee's apartment. She is graciously putting us up for the weekend. The apartment is tiny and full of memories and toys from her 7 year old son, Jagger. Everyone hits the sack except for Katie and I. We buckle down to rewrite the Taylor Swift lyrics to reflect the story of Aunt Ruthanne. I am in awe as Katie knows what to say and why we want to say it. She is the wisest 13 year old at this moment. It is 2 or 3 in the morning and we have had a long day but I don't care. I am having special time with Katie and I have no sense of time.
In the morning we have a few hours to explore. We hit the subway as if we know what we are doing. We travel to Fulton Street where we say prayers at Ground Zero. It dawns on me these girls were too young when 9/11 happened and may not truly grasp the significance of us praying here. I try to give them some insight but they on their own are appropriate and respectful. Then Grandy leads the girls to places she use to go as a girl. Where she worked and where Grandpa and her shared sandwiches when they were courting. There is Wall Street and Trinity Church; the girls get a kick out of the Bull. Jessica pushes through the Internationals to grab a photo by the horns.
Then it is time to get ready for the birthday party. The girls dress to make their parents proud and their hair and smiles are beautiful. We hit another NY landmark; traffic on the Long Island Expressway. Despite the wreak at exit 61 we make it on time. We meet people we should know and help with last minute chores. Katie finds Casey, the cousin with the guitar and they retreat to the rehearsal stage. Jess finds little kids not being looked after and looks after them. Grandy finds the wine and other women of a certain age and begins to reminisce. I look for something to do other then soak in the joy.
The food is lovingly prepared by her son Danny; the daughters, Renee, Lisa and Deanna all set the pretty tables with yellow and white to match the daisies. Bill with his dog Marshall keep everyone in line and Michael, the oldest, holds court in the middle of the tent with his infectious laugh.
Turns out the surprise was let out of the bag when the tables and chairs arrived on Thursday. So the Georgia contingency offers the only unexpected of the day. Us and lifelong friend Kay, in from Florida. Aunt Ruthanne enters on a cloud. She floats and is beautiful and nothing about her is 70 except her experience. Ever since I was a little girl I have found comfort in the sound of my Aunt's voice. It is the same blanket I felt in my father's voice. She cusses like a sailor and protects like a momma bear and lives an authentic life.
The meal is done and the kids sing their songs. Katie is belting out and I am so proud I try to soak in all the moment not just with my camera but also with my heart. I don't notice the tears racing down my face I only feel as though my cup has overflowed.
Aunt Ruthanne is front and center and the kids feel so good as the circle goes round. There is drama in other parts of the lawn, something about a missing harmonica and spilled soda on the cake table. But all I see and hear are two teenagers lifting up Aunt Ruthanne and that is all that matters.
We travel back to the city and hope she likes the Honey Pots. We sleep in the next morning then tackle the city again. There is Central Park; The Met; Museum Mile; the diner for lunch where Jess can have Eggs and Hash at 3 in the afternoon. There is Grand Central Station where Katie goes all flashmob miscue commercial on us and then there is Times Square where they scream teenagers as they take 1000 photos including ones with the Naked Cowboy. The trip is complete.
As I drive us home the next morning I reflect. What a special opportunity to take my nieces on this trip. A chance to wish my Aunt a happy birthday in return for all the good wishes she has given me over the years. Walking through Central Park and Times Square with these two beauties. God is good to me.
It is all full circle. I am still aspiring to be like my Aunt - love deeply, give generously, be authentic; and now these nieces are loving deeply and are so generous and are so unique. I have a goal of being the kind of person who people are willing to load up the SUV with pennies in their pocket and come see me for my birthday and sing to me! Maybe even write lyrics...
Recipes: Order pizza in the city with your nieces at 3 am; cause they deserve it!
Roadtrips: Always take the scenic route; and traveling with the ones you love is always scenic.
Renovations: ...I aspire to be authentic...and to follow in some pretty big shoes!
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Should it Stay, or Should it Go?
There is a time when all good hand me downs must go. Everyone should get to own a new sofa they picked out from a furniture store and not someone's basement; or get a new washer from Sears instead of the flee market. Half my furniture comes from my dead grandmother and the other half is a mix of what my siblings no longer wanted and what my mother no longer cared about. However, once I start selling the items in a yard sale, there is little guess as to who will all the sudden want their items back... But I digress.
Preparing for a yard sale and then pulling it off can just be a precarious time. Trying to choose what should stay or what should go, and wondering where the hell some it even came from, is taxing to say the least.
Every fiber of my being says all I need are the following:
my recipe box and aprons,
my dog and his grooming kit,
the sundresses and flip flips,
2 light sweaters and my favorite pjs,
my hiking boots and water bottle,
four good pair of underware,
two decent bras, the comfy socks,
two pair of shorts and two tanks,
my top ten favorite records and record player,
all the Amos Lee CDs,
the shoebox of all the cards/drawings/school projects from my nieces and nephews,
the 'box of love' from VBW,
a respectable sized box full of my favorite books,
my grille and my divided fry pan,
my memory full of photos of this life....
But then how do I part with the dining table that has been a part of family celebration dinners for 20 years now. Where do I muster the strength to haul out the dry sink that has sat in a Bortle home since 1979 and slap a $20 circle sticker on it. There is the trundle bed my brother slept in as a boy; the one his nephew Nick now claims when ever he comes to the Little Gray House. There is the daybed in the front room where all the youngsters have played underneth and read books by flashlight after great grandma slept it in it in the early nineties. What will become of the chest of drawers that once held my daddy's pj's that I now wear in the dead of winter or the depths of sadness. I look around this little house and realize I have the story of the Bortle family. My sister and brother can look around their home and see the story of the family they have created. My mother's house is void of the life she had before marrying her now husband. But I have the challanges and joys of the family which we came from stored in ever nook and craney in the very place I live and breath. It feels heavy here and I don't think I ever realized just how heavy until this moment.
Everyone is culpable in the collection of their own furnishings. No one forced me to take on these items. No one said you must be the keeper of the Bortle family album. I just worried about it so. Once Daddy died, who would bring us together at Thanksgiving and Fourth of July? I have just made a whole lot of myself in a time I didn't know what to do or what to become in my own life. So I became a curator of the Bortle family moments in time. I now realize, I can hold that album in my heart; it is landscaped deep in my soul and human makeup.
I don't need items to touch. I have a family that loves me and friends that cheer me on.
But it still doesn't ease the decision making of what should stay or what should go.
Recipes: A good wine mixed with decision making is perfectly fine; particulaly when you have no idea what to do...you can always blame it on the wine.
Roadtrips: You don't have to take a souvenir from every place you have ever been; you just have to appreciate every place you have ever been.
Renovations: It is ok to become a curator of your own life.
Preparing for a yard sale and then pulling it off can just be a precarious time. Trying to choose what should stay or what should go, and wondering where the hell some it even came from, is taxing to say the least.
Every fiber of my being says all I need are the following:
my recipe box and aprons,
my dog and his grooming kit,
the sundresses and flip flips,
2 light sweaters and my favorite pjs,
my hiking boots and water bottle,
four good pair of underware,
two decent bras, the comfy socks,
two pair of shorts and two tanks,
my top ten favorite records and record player,
all the Amos Lee CDs,
the shoebox of all the cards/drawings/school projects from my nieces and nephews,
the 'box of love' from VBW,
a respectable sized box full of my favorite books,
my grille and my divided fry pan,
my memory full of photos of this life....
But then how do I part with the dining table that has been a part of family celebration dinners for 20 years now. Where do I muster the strength to haul out the dry sink that has sat in a Bortle home since 1979 and slap a $20 circle sticker on it. There is the trundle bed my brother slept in as a boy; the one his nephew Nick now claims when ever he comes to the Little Gray House. There is the daybed in the front room where all the youngsters have played underneth and read books by flashlight after great grandma slept it in it in the early nineties. What will become of the chest of drawers that once held my daddy's pj's that I now wear in the dead of winter or the depths of sadness. I look around this little house and realize I have the story of the Bortle family. My sister and brother can look around their home and see the story of the family they have created. My mother's house is void of the life she had before marrying her now husband. But I have the challanges and joys of the family which we came from stored in ever nook and craney in the very place I live and breath. It feels heavy here and I don't think I ever realized just how heavy until this moment.
Everyone is culpable in the collection of their own furnishings. No one forced me to take on these items. No one said you must be the keeper of the Bortle family album. I just worried about it so. Once Daddy died, who would bring us together at Thanksgiving and Fourth of July? I have just made a whole lot of myself in a time I didn't know what to do or what to become in my own life. So I became a curator of the Bortle family moments in time. I now realize, I can hold that album in my heart; it is landscaped deep in my soul and human makeup.
I don't need items to touch. I have a family that loves me and friends that cheer me on.
But it still doesn't ease the decision making of what should stay or what should go.
Recipes: A good wine mixed with decision making is perfectly fine; particulaly when you have no idea what to do...you can always blame it on the wine.
Roadtrips: You don't have to take a souvenir from every place you have ever been; you just have to appreciate every place you have ever been.
Renovations: It is ok to become a curator of your own life.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Milestones and Do Overs!
If and when you have the chance to spend the day with one of your nieces as she readies for the milestone of college, I strongly encourage you to order front row seats. Don't stay home because the drive is too far or gas prices are through the roof. It is that once in a lifetime opportunity, so if you have to, bounce a check.
The original pookey bear is headed off to college and I had the great good fortune of touring campus and her elaborate 'dorm' and playing red light green light at the Kennesaw State University sign that happened to be at a major intersection. You want to capture every moment and you wish time could be still while you catch up. And you hope she doesn't mind you mention her in your blog.
Catherine is just a beautiful young lady. She is petite and bright and stunning in presentation; artistic and dynamic in daily living. I remember when her Grandpa answered the phone in the Maternity Ward's waiting room and him announcing her arrival and I remember her and her cousin Amanda eating the Turkey legs dressed up in bonnets in the Little Gray House and I remember her walk across the stage at high school graduation. I hope I never forget Red Light Green Light at the Kennesaw State University sign. Tonight we will have a viewing of the outfits she has assembled for Rush; and tomorrow we will be wondering where the time went.
I remember my own journey through college completely sucked so I am sensitive when it comes to my loved ones and their journey. Always working two jobs while squeezing in a class here and there. People making snide comments about how long it was taking me and that I must not be very motivated or give a crap. And the truth is I hated every minute of college. What was to love, working all the time, not having the resources to keep up with the younger kids. No Rush, no clubs, no one who can relate. It was a long, lonely journey and in the end, I am not sure I think it was the least bit worth it. I had no sense of following a passion or preparing for a career. I just wanted the damn piece of paper because it sure seemed so important to everyone else.
But this time around, as I start back to school, it is because I want to and I have a passion and a dream. Just like Catherine will follow her artistic vision and my niece Amanda is in pursuit of her passion for helping others through medicine. And where there will still be no Rush for me there will be joining the Woodbine Writers Club and the Camden Co Runner's Group to keep me well rounded. There may still be two jobs but one will be as a barista or bed and breakfast front desk clerk and the other will be working at Target or Publix so I can get a discount. And I secretly hope someone wants to take my picture outside The Camden Center where I will learn to bake and braise and butterfly.
Recipes: soft shelled tacos with meat and cheese, just like when she was five.
Roadtrips: HWY 98 to 85 S to 285 W to 75 N to 575 N to exit 14.That is where happiness lives.
Rennovations: I get a do over!
Catherine is just a beautiful young lady. She is petite and bright and stunning in presentation; artistic and dynamic in daily living. I remember when her Grandpa answered the phone in the Maternity Ward's waiting room and him announcing her arrival and I remember her and her cousin Amanda eating the Turkey legs dressed up in bonnets in the Little Gray House and I remember her walk across the stage at high school graduation. I hope I never forget Red Light Green Light at the Kennesaw State University sign. Tonight we will have a viewing of the outfits she has assembled for Rush; and tomorrow we will be wondering where the time went.
I remember my own journey through college completely sucked so I am sensitive when it comes to my loved ones and their journey. Always working two jobs while squeezing in a class here and there. People making snide comments about how long it was taking me and that I must not be very motivated or give a crap. And the truth is I hated every minute of college. What was to love, working all the time, not having the resources to keep up with the younger kids. No Rush, no clubs, no one who can relate. It was a long, lonely journey and in the end, I am not sure I think it was the least bit worth it. I had no sense of following a passion or preparing for a career. I just wanted the damn piece of paper because it sure seemed so important to everyone else.
But this time around, as I start back to school, it is because I want to and I have a passion and a dream. Just like Catherine will follow her artistic vision and my niece Amanda is in pursuit of her passion for helping others through medicine. And where there will still be no Rush for me there will be joining the Woodbine Writers Club and the Camden Co Runner's Group to keep me well rounded. There may still be two jobs but one will be as a barista or bed and breakfast front desk clerk and the other will be working at Target or Publix so I can get a discount. And I secretly hope someone wants to take my picture outside The Camden Center where I will learn to bake and braise and butterfly.
Recipes: soft shelled tacos with meat and cheese, just like when she was five.
Roadtrips: HWY 98 to 85 S to 285 W to 75 N to 575 N to exit 14.That is where happiness lives.
Rennovations: I get a do over!
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
No Net!
The serious workouts begin. I can't possibly reinvent myself in this new life with these belly rolls and chin nooks. There are just so many laps a girl needs and I am quite certain there is no need for the boobs and arsenal to be way down there. Ahhh, the struggles of our self image. We all have them for sure. Men and women alike. If there is one thing I have learned early in my journey of self discovery; I have learned that being lost or stuck or uncomfortable in our own skin doesn't discriminate.
The writing tablets are out to document a plan. Will I run, Zumba or Jillian Michaels' my way out of everyone congratulating me on what appears as 4 months along. I have the bicycle, the 5 and 10 lb weights and the 100+ degree temperatures sucking up the air.
I can't possibly reinvent myself with my mind having become mush these past several years of monotony. I have been stuck mentally as well; MICPS, Failed Claims, Failed Activities, Eligibility Checks, Services Not Authorized, MD Schedules, MD CSR; IFI, CST, ACT, PSR, PEER. blah, blah, blah, blah....no stimulating conversation. I search in the dark for good books and conversations; someone talk to me about travel or food or gardening or sports and only slightly, politics. I hate to sound all Eat, Love, Pray, but for God sake's I have needed to be inspired.
That isn't entirely true. I don't hate to sound all Eat, Love, Pray. At one time recently I warned friends I was about to go all Eat, Love, Pray on this life. Then I realized, as courageous as I think Liz was/is; the fact still is she was able to go off in search of inspiration as a part of her livelihood so she didn't really risk it all to find where she was supposed to be. Or, to find her balance. She at the very minimum had a financial security. And any one of us who live in the real world know, financial security is hardly minimum. Reality is, it is what prevents most stuck human beings from going from I am in a secure job and completely unhappy to I am going in pursuit of happiness.
Sorry, I got side tracked.
Back to the work out.
30 Minutes of Zumba; 30 Minutes of Jogging (I am not up to runner yet) and 30 minutes of weights and resistance. I love resistance....it is such an appropriate workout term. Then there are two books to complete this month and two to peruse. Read: The Tennis Partner: Far From the Land; The Piano Tuner. Peruse: See It, Say It in Spanish; Costa Rica Bradt Travel Guide.
I think it is safe to say I have a long way to go. I have a goal of being some what presentable by the time my road trip rolls around. So, I ask you, my twelve blog followers, including you two from New Zealand and you from India; will I ever reach this goal of slightly less belly roll and a few less chin nooks and a broader mind? Please tell me I can get it together? Cause, I really don't have another plan.
Recipes: A little bit of motivation mixed with support and a plan should get me where I am going...
Roadtrips: There will be at least three miles of activities in my every day agenda.
Renovations: There is no safety net in really going for it!
The writing tablets are out to document a plan. Will I run, Zumba or Jillian Michaels' my way out of everyone congratulating me on what appears as 4 months along. I have the bicycle, the 5 and 10 lb weights and the 100+ degree temperatures sucking up the air.
I can't possibly reinvent myself with my mind having become mush these past several years of monotony. I have been stuck mentally as well; MICPS, Failed Claims, Failed Activities, Eligibility Checks, Services Not Authorized, MD Schedules, MD CSR; IFI, CST, ACT, PSR, PEER. blah, blah, blah, blah....no stimulating conversation. I search in the dark for good books and conversations; someone talk to me about travel or food or gardening or sports and only slightly, politics. I hate to sound all Eat, Love, Pray, but for God sake's I have needed to be inspired.
That isn't entirely true. I don't hate to sound all Eat, Love, Pray. At one time recently I warned friends I was about to go all Eat, Love, Pray on this life. Then I realized, as courageous as I think Liz was/is; the fact still is she was able to go off in search of inspiration as a part of her livelihood so she didn't really risk it all to find where she was supposed to be. Or, to find her balance. She at the very minimum had a financial security. And any one of us who live in the real world know, financial security is hardly minimum. Reality is, it is what prevents most stuck human beings from going from I am in a secure job and completely unhappy to I am going in pursuit of happiness.
Sorry, I got side tracked.
Back to the work out.
30 Minutes of Zumba; 30 Minutes of Jogging (I am not up to runner yet) and 30 minutes of weights and resistance. I love resistance....it is such an appropriate workout term. Then there are two books to complete this month and two to peruse. Read: The Tennis Partner: Far From the Land; The Piano Tuner. Peruse: See It, Say It in Spanish; Costa Rica Bradt Travel Guide.
I think it is safe to say I have a long way to go. I have a goal of being some what presentable by the time my road trip rolls around. So, I ask you, my twelve blog followers, including you two from New Zealand and you from India; will I ever reach this goal of slightly less belly roll and a few less chin nooks and a broader mind? Please tell me I can get it together? Cause, I really don't have another plan.
Recipes: A little bit of motivation mixed with support and a plan should get me where I am going...
Roadtrips: There will be at least three miles of activities in my every day agenda.
Renovations: There is no safety net in really going for it!
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