Today I like...

- Antique paper dolls
- Bell jars
- Dub step
- Cocorosie
- Mint & honey green tea
- Pomegranates
- "bombastic"
- Fragile, yellowed book pages
- Hearst Castle indoor swimming pool
- Lime & cilantro rice
- Skeleton keys
- Pressed leaves
- Paper roses

And now for a moment of shameless vapidness.....

God, Vin Diesel is H.O.T.  Just finished watching Fast Five and all I could think every time he came on screen was exactly that.  "God, Vin Diesel is hot".  It must have run through my mind a thousand times and then I took a moment to laugh at my silliness.  I am not a celebrity crush person, but yet there's always an exception to the rule, right? 

Sigh.

Moving on now.  Do you know what I want more than anything?  More than a pug?  More than an El Camino?  More than Vin Diesel in an El Camino with a pug?  (whoops, how did that Diesel reference slip in there?).  Seriously.  I want a gracious life. 

What am I talking about here?  I think Merriam sums it up masterfully:

d : characterized by charm, good taste, generosity of spirit,
      and the tasteful leisure of wealth and good breeding

It can also mean marked by kindness.  That is definitely part of my idea of a gracious life.  Simple.  Pastoral even yet sophisticated.  What it essentially boils down to in my mind is making people feel welcome.  Giving family and friends a safe (and charming) harbor to weather out the storms.  I don't mean by just painting my home that perfect Martha Stewart shade (although that is definitely desirable), but also by being the kind of person that can offer refuge to those in need, whether it's simply a hot cup of tea and a sympathetic ear or a warm hand to hold.  I desire my life to be a sanctuary for myself and for those I encounter.  I want to uplift and strengthen.  I can't do that without first working on me.  I struggle with a very powerful darker side of my nature that is bursting to the seams with self-doubt, guilt, loathing and all those other toady little parts of myself that I hesitate to acknowledge.  How does one spread love and charity without first having it for herself?

Last night was one of the few nights I have spent on my own since Zoë's birth 3 years ago and let me tell you, it was GOOD.  I didn't really do anything of note, but it was refreshing to have time to remember that before I became a wife or a mother, I was a person of her own with many varied interests and different past times.  Not all of them were very savory, I do admit and I would never go back to that period of life, but I can at least retrieve from it some of the good bits like my love of poetry, language and all things crafty and handmade.  I need some time and space to get reacquainted with me and appreciate who I am.     

love, love, love

As if it was necessary, yet another fabulous reason to be madly in love with the incomparable Mary Oliver...

Is the soul solid, like iron?

Or is it tender and breakable, like

the wings of a moth in the beak of the owl?

Who has it, and who doesn't?

I keep looking around me.

The face of the moose is as sad

as the face of Jesus.

The swan opens her white wings slowly.

In the fall, the black bear carries leaves into the darkness.

One question leads to another.

Does it have a shape? Like an iceberg?

Like the eye of a hummingbird?

Does it have one lung, like the snake and the scallop?

Why should I have it, and not the anteater

who loves her children?

Why should I have it, and not the camel?

Come to think of it, what about the maple trees?

What about the blue iris?

What about all the stones, sitting alone in the moonlight?

What about roses, and lemons, and their shining leaves?

What about the grass?

~ Some Questions You Might Ask

My Dearëst Zoë,

I write this here because it just doesn't seem right to put it on your blog.  It's something I don't really want to directly tell you, but yet somehow wish you just knew anyway. 

I have cried more in the 3 years you've been in my life than all the previous years combined.  Mostly, I think I cry from fear.  Ever since I knew I was pregnant, I have been terrified.  There's so much that I don't have control over in this world, so many ways I could lose you.  I am scared every day, every moment I'm left alone long enough to be aware of my thoughts.  Every single one of them revolves around the panic that I will not be able to protect you from everything and that potentially I could lose you through sickness, accident or violence.  I'm like Nemo's Dad, but I don't want to raise you in the shadow of my terror so I try to act normal around you.  I know the world isn't as terrifying and threatening as it seems to me.  My take on the world is a product of a warped perspective, not an accurate reflection of the way things really are. 

I have always been a fearful person.  When I was a kid, I used to have a hard time falling asleep because I was afraid someone would sneak into the house and stab me or cut my throat.  I got used to falling asleep with a pillow clutched to my stomach because I reasoned that if someone stabbed me through it I might still live.  I lay there in my room and planned potential escape routes if we were ever under attack from home invaders or werewolves or home invading werewolves.  I would lay perfectly still for hours, literally frozen in terror and see in my mind over and over again a close up of my throat being slit and whether I would be able to drag myself to my parent's room with the little time I had left or not.  I didn't fall asleep until I was exhausted and then I would make a bargain with God that if he allowed murderers into my room, he would at least make sure I didn't wake up and feel the pain.  With that uneasy truce as my last thought, I'd finally fall asleep.

I also used to imagine my life after my mother had died.  How would I cope without her?  Would I even be able to live?  I would imagine every detail and then cry until my eyes were swollen and I could barely breathe.  I came to the conclusion that I could never possibly live one day without her and her future aging became another focus for my fear. 

Somehow I never thought my fear was excessive or unusual.  I just lived with it and accepted it as part of who I was.  I've lived with it ever since I can remember so it just seemed normal to me.  It took the greatest love of my life (you) to finally realize that there is something wrong though.  The fear in my life is omnipresent.  I don't go a single day without some kind of catastrophe manifesting itself in my imagination.  I wish to show you the magic of the world, all the great and amazing sights to see, sounds to hear, flavors to taste and people to meet and love.  Every single person struggles with something in their character.  I am just over-blessed with a fearful nature.  It is a trait that I will try with every ounce of my will to keep from you.  I want you to see the world as wonderful, as a place of opportunity. 

I don't know how to make my fears go away.  I have been given my life's greatest gift in you and because of my character, instead of taking joy in the pleasure you bring, all I can do is feel the most terrible fear that if I enjoy you too much, you'll be taken away from me.  It's been a repeating theme of my life.  The people I love the most I am the most terrified of losing.  It would be cliche to say this is some kind of abandonment issue from adoption.  I know that factors in there somewhere, but maybe I would have been this way with or without adoption.  Maybe I was just born with fears of being left alone.  I can cope with my fears.  I've been doing so this long.  I just don't want to pass them down to you.  If I can raise you free of these unreasonable fears, I will be happy.

All my love,

Mama

Is it just me or are some of these Christmas commercials truly horrid?  Parents stealing their kid's cars for joy rides and little girls telling their family they need to stick to her Christmas list because she doesn't like the lame presents they pick out for her. Even though I know it's supposed to be humorous, the underlying message is insulting because it implies that greed and ingratitude are an acceptable part of our culture.  Yes, it's possible that I'm taking things too seriously or perhaps the problem is that most people don't take things seriously enough.  What concerns me is not so much the commercial itself but what it indicates.  People in mass marketing believe that the general public is morally lax enough that they can appeal to our worst instincts, pass it off as a joke and we'll buy their products.  Unfortunately, that's largely true.

When I was growing up, I never made one Christmas list.  My parents were adamantly against them and I just wrote it off as another of their unexplainable quirks, but now that I'm older and as a mother myself, I see the way that writing a Christmas lists puts all the emphasis on getting.  My parents believed that knowing each other well enough to pick out presents for one other was part of the gift itself and I have to agree, it's a lovely way to exchange gifts.  I was never disappointed on Christmas because I didn't get everything on my list.  I was surprised and grateful and watching other people unwrap what I got them was almost as exciting.

 I would like my daughter to understand the ideals of generosity, compassion, charity and "good will towards man" and I find it a shame that the commercial world, which plays such a large role in the majority of our lives, doesn't promote those values as well.          

Dear Self,

This has been a tough day for us.  The ego has taken a few on the chin.  You know what I'm really craving?  Some appreciation.  One person to come along and say "hey, I really see how hard you're trying to get and keep things together and I think you're swell."  They don't actually have to use "swell".  Any flattering, affirming adjective will do. 

I'm listening to Love Lust.  Still.  Repeatedly.  A million times in a day.  Somewhere along the way I just burst into a spontaneous fit of tears and had to go retreat to the ladies room to get myself back together again.  I've been yelled at, insulted, belittled and guilt-tripped a lot lately it seems and I just want to shout "STOP" to the world.  "Treat me kindly, please.  I'm feeling a little on the fragile end of the spectrum".  I wouldn't mind being the object of someone's sincere appreciation/admiration.  When King Charles sings

"...you've the strength of the greeks

you are god's masterpiece...

I believe in every breathe you believe..."

the seams of my heart strain just to the edge of coming undone.  It's been a long time it seems since anyone has felt that way about me.  More importantly, it's been eons since I've felt that way about myself.  'Cause let's be honest, that's what this is truly about.  I am feeling a sense of claustrophobic panic as the facts of my current life seem to shrink in all around.  Yet feeling unfulfilled is not in my mind an excuse to squelch on the whole "till death do us part" section of The Vows and run out and romance my way around the globe.  Not that I'm slinging any stones.  (ahem, gorge, meditate, lust).

To be fair, many, many years ago, I was once an interesting person.  I was interested in my own life.  I lived according to principles that mattered to me.  I also had many more hangovers, but that is an entirely different matter.

We need to do some work, dear self.  At some point, we got married, became a mommy and forgot that before we were any of those things we were a person of our own with distinct interests, goals and friendships.  Let's pick up the poetry books again, shall we?  Design some clothes.  Change the hair color up a little.  Mix some cocktails.  Have a few nights out with the girls.  Let's live again for crying out loud.  Because we (and by we I do of course mean "I", but using "we" makes me feel much more royal) need it.  It's hard to be a good and happy wife or a good and happy mommy unless we are a good and happy person first.            

    

Breakfast this morning was lovely.  Raisin, date and walnut oatmeal with 3 brown turkey figs and some papaya chunks.  All washed down by Sweet Leaf Mint & Honey green tea.  If you haven't tried it, you're missing out.  My own mama used to brew mint tea when I was a kid and it was so delicious and refreshing so it's kind of a nostalgic thing for me too.  All of this goodness accompanied by being serenaded by this guy.  It is absolutely sick how many times in a row I've played this song.  I also bought a miniature arrangement ($5) of fall color themed flowers to brighten up my rather drab cubicle view at work this morning.  Flowers are a multi-sensory pleasure and add so much to one's day. 

Getting back to the grub; when I eat fresh, good, clean food I find that it reflects in my mindset later on.  When I'm cramming my body full of nasty, highly processed junk, there's a lingering sense of shame and guilt because I KNOW I'm abusing myself.  I don't mean the occasional high quality chocolate.  I'm all for indulging.  What I'm talking about is a constant stream of convenience food; something chosen more because it's just the easiest option.  There are months when I practically live off of vending machines at work.  Not only is it just horrible for my budget, I feel TERRIBLE when I eat that way, physically and emotionally.  The trouble is that preparing food requires some forethought and planning which is not my forte.  I think it might just be worth my while to stop giving myself the hall pass for excuses and just do it.  There's so much more pleasure in the texture and flavor of a ripe papaya than a bag of Doritos.  With a little bit of effort on my part, there's a huge return in benefits. 

I have a ponderously complex relationship with food/exercise/body image.  In some ways, I feel safer as the fat girl.  I have powers of invisibility.  Many people simply look right past me because my appearance doesn't offer much for the eyes to appreciate.  The times in my life when I was the smallest also coincided with episodes of sexual assault.  I'm hyper-sensitive to the psychological impact of body image and how appearance impacts people's perceptions.  My Dad (an otherwise very dear man so don't judge him based on one isolated fact) was extremely critical of large people.  I remember the sheer misery of being out in public with him when he would spy someone of "unacceptable" size and go on a cringe-worthy rant about them and not very quietly either.  It was humiliating and really hurtful.  I learned that acceptance is not unconditional.  Because I was a child and children don't always reason very clearly, I felt that everything was based on fat.  Bad, unworthy people are fat.  Good, superior people are skinny.  I was already experiencing rejection from peers based on my weight and to hear the same judgments from the lips of my father just nailed it home.  I reacted out of anger to the pressure from my Dad and others to lose weight and become worthy of their esteem.  I rebelled.  I hurt myself.  I binged.  What I wanted was to know that no matter what size I was, he loved me and was happy that I was his daughter.  I didn't have the strength to make myself vulnerable and just ask for that so instead we built up years of miscommunication, resentments, rejection and pain on both sides.  My Dad is a proud, stubborn man and I was a proud, stubborn little girl so neither of us could bend and we wasted years of our relationship.  To be honest, when I was younger, I laid every ounce of blame at his feet, but as I've gotten older, I see how I also contributed to the problems between us.  My Dad is never going to be the person that I sit down and have long touchy-feeling conversations with.  It's simply not in his nature and over time, I've had to learn that just as I want acceptance from him just as I am, I have to be willing to return that respect.  So my Mom is my touchy-feely and my Dad is who I can have in-depth debates with on complex subjects and gain interesting new perspectives from.  Wow, I get way off subject here.  Excuse me.

Back to the whole body image issue; the long and short of it is I want to be absolutely certain that I am making the right choices for the right reasons.  I think it's an admirable goal to want to take good care of oneself out of respect for this life we've been given.  I don't want to do it because I'm trying to diet my way into social acceptability or to fit into the standards of attractiveness.  Of course I like looking in the mirror and being pleased with my reflection or being able to buy cute clothes that more closely match my personality than the unappealing granny getups that I find myself mostly wearing now, but losing weight suddenly makes me visible to others and I pop back on the sexually viable radar of the opposite gender and I have NEVER known how to handle that attention very gracefully.  It makes me very uncomfortable and I feel vulnerable.  The fat I wear acts like a childhood blanky; shielding me from the scary things I don't know how to face. 

The thing is though once I get to a certain size, the sheer excess weight I'm carrying around is exhausting and it holds me back from things I'd like to do or try.  I was talking to an acquaintance the other day who mentioned a friend of his that died of a heart attack at 34.  Read that again people.  I didn't say 54 or 64.  I said 34.  And a contributing factor was the man's weight.  I'm 32.  I have no intention of dropping dead 2 years from now and yes, the chances of that happening are pretty remote, but I'm a firm believer in hedging bets and since weight is something under my control, why even allow it to be a continuing risk factor?  The deceased man left behind a wife and 4 small children.  How devastating that must be to his family and how equally devastating that would be to mine.

To be at my optimum health, I would need to drop 150 lbs.  Yes, that's right.  150.  I forget how unhealthy I truly am until I'm confronted with the naked numbers.  To reach my goal, I can't tackle that number all at once.  I have to start with small changes and build on my successes.  I've found that I usually do better as well when I don't get too hung up on lbs lost, but rather the positive habits I've formed. To get this under control, I'm setting the following short term goals to be achieved one at a time:

- Cut out fast food/vending/convenience/junk/highly processed crap food
- Drink at least 64 oz of water daily
- Make home cooked meals from fresh, whole foods instead of boxed meals
- Get moving!  Walk, yoga, dance, soccer scrimmage
- Convert to a well-balanced vegetarian diet (eating meat makes me feel ill, but I tend to be a junketarian)

And just for kicks, here's some of my other goals as well:

- Work for IRC
- Learn to hula hoop
- Take martial arts
- Learn French
- Take a pottery class
- Dance lessons (belly/ballroom)
- World travel
- Pay off debt and begin saving
- Spread some joy!