Caterwauling

When really mean, entitled folks are enjoying themselves and they probably forget how they treated people far less lucky. 

Apparently I talk a lot more when anxiety isn’t crippling me. Or so I’m told. Some folks forgot I have a voice. 

I love waking up without crippling anxiety. Wish it would last a lot longer than just this glorious week. 

Early this year, I took my measurements. Something I’d never done before. But it was time.

I thought, aha, now I know my “true size.” The numeric one. Great, so now I can order things from the Internet with some modicum of success. Or walk into the store and not have to take four different sizes into the dressing room. Right?

Not so much. But whatever. I have every size in the world at home for skinny days and fat days.

But while I haven’t been losing pounds per se this past month, apparently I lost a couple inches without realizing it.

Got dressed in the dark today. Was looking for something beige to wear with a blue shirt.

Grabbed a skirt. Huge. Hmm. Grabbed another. Better but enh. Sitting in the car for the commute would pound out the waist enough to irritate me all day. Grabbed a third … perfect!

Took a gander at the size later. It’s that so-called “true size” I’d identified three months ago. Hah. Go, me.

January -4.6
February -0.8
March +1.4
April ?

That’s my running tally on my little chalkboard with my little pink chalk of my so-called weight-loss odyssey.

Net-net, it’s a 4-pound loss for the first quarter. Which is good, given how much I shove into my pie hole.

But you wonder how many setbacks could have been prevented. Rather, how many emotional late-night eating/wine-drinking binges didn’t have to happen if people could realize that karma is going to be an even bigger bitch than they think Hillary Clinton is.

In any event, here’s to a stronger second quarter.

Best advice I heard this year on that front — you can’t cut things out that you love. You just can’t. You need to find a way to make them work for you.

For the girl who shared her story, it was that her leader said she had to make her homemade mac and cheese, a multigenerational family tradition, work for her. Starving herself while the family enjoyed it wasn’t going to be sustainable. Maybe skinny it up a bit. Or maybe figure out what a real portion size is and load up on salad with it. But treat it as a banned food and you’re dooming your success.

My success last year was truly based on not having it all. Yes, I said not. I was mostly vegetarian but when I was near the “banned” items, forget it. I was “Overboard” like Goldie Hawn. And then back on the “learn to love that celery, Tubbo” bandwagon the next day.

But it worked!

?
This year I’ve been more like hey I’ll have a few bites of that chocolate mousse cheesecake from Junior’s or that Vesuvius cake from Sal’s or that pitmaster combo from Hickory Sticks or 4 Rivers Smokehouse. And guess what, if I want to eat the whole tub of hummus tomorrow, I’ll do that too.

So, obviously that didn’t work out for me in February and certainly not in March. But now I just need to figure out how to make cheesecake and barbecue work for me. Maybe have it once a month instead of twice. Or only follow it up with half a tub of hummus the next day. Whatever.

It’s a “forever” learning curve. But then again, isn’t everything? But it’s nice to learn from people who “get it.” Much easier to take advice from those who practice what they preach and have therefore earned the right to do so. They tend to actually know what they are talking about, so it’s easier to make taking advice work for me.

So tRumpy had the worst week ever. Which, the majority of the country has endured on a loop since the first week of November. So you won’t find me playing my teeny-tiny violin anytime soon.

Besides, I gave that shit up in the seventh grade when I mastered “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” Which, given that we’re all singing “Tinkle Tinkle Little Czar; Putin Put You Where You Are,” it would be a fitting final song to play on this democratic Titanic on which our representatives of both major parties are valiantly rearranging the chairs.

In any event, here are my blessings that don’t include James Comey screwing tRumpy this week almost as bad as he f’ed Hillary …

(Got this shirt in D.C. back before Comey’s little October surprise.)

1. Had Sunday brunch with a dear friend from the West Coast whom I met when we lived in Alexandria, Va.  It’s like 13 minutes elapsed between visits, rather than 13 years.  

2. Got a great new, old addition to our work team. Super-excited about this one. Grateful beyond belief. Hoping it’s a long, prosperous relationship (again).

3. I got a day off! And got to see the Nats on Thursday!

Unfortunately, it was pouring halfway through. So we left early. But still, DAY OFF!

Plus I got a cool shirt that I love.

And some pics of Calvin Coolidge, which was my grandfather’s name too. It’s like he was there with us!

And I got an early-bird dinner at a great restaurant nearby. And it was good, unlike most meals I overpay for. I win Thursday.

Dude. Funnel cake. And my Nats keychain. 

4. I could have had tickets to see the Nats Friday. But great editorial had to prevail. And it did. I ain’t mad at that. Would rather shape/publish things I’m proud of than relax. (Not that there was any relaxing to follow it, unfortunately. But, details.)

5. Had Bloody Marys on the beach when a favorite former/current colleague. Well I had all the vodka. But still. Sushi and stimulating seaside conversation is the way to spend a Saturday. 

6. I stopped at a store to buy suntan lotion. And ran into a friend who recently had a baby. I was over the moon. Another colleague/friend with her mom and child. I took a couple pics for mom because she’d kick me ass if I didn’t. What a good day in my world. 

7. I did get back to the ballpark today. Gorgeous, breezy, sunny day.

Got to wear my new shirt.

They had a 50%-off spring training merch sale. Which was kind of annoying because all the Nats stuff was sold out and only Houston Astros wear was available. 

Although Screech was tossing out tons of shirts …?

They had some cute and sparkly Astros shirts that I liked, but I’m a Nats girl all the way.

Mom wondered why we never took Grampy to a Pirates game.

I think he was there at all the games we’ve seen in DC and WPB. And not as a giant president. I also think he’s ok that I give mom the experiences I didn’t have the time or money to give to him.  But damn, we miss him. 

With mom’s poor health, I didn’t want to wait till next year to do this. It cost a ton for me. But we ate well and got sun and saw good-looking men everywhere. What a treat, truly. 

I hope we can go to Bradenton next year. But i will be quite ok if I get back to the Ballpark of the Palm Beaches. No doubt. We saw the Mets and Astros. Maybe we will catch the Yankees or Marlins next year. 

How blessed I am to have the brand-new Nats spring training facility right in my backyard, so I could be part of the spring one. 

I am over the moon that I could see Ryan Zimmerman and Bryce Harper and Jason Werth in my last hometown and in my new one too. 

The people who work in the park are so nice. Most are from the DMV area. My favorite bartender is taking the AutoTrain home next week and will work the regular season with the Nats. 

In any event, it was a good week to be Goddess and a great week to be a Nats fan. I hope I am lucky enough to see the boys of spring again next year. And have plenty of planned and chance meetings with old friends along the way. 

I got a day off yesterday. I swear, someone should make a meme of that along the lines of the “I pooped today!” one.

Although I feel like I get more of the former than the latter. And I don’t get many of those either.

I got to thinking about when I started this job, how I knew all and did all and felt like a true source of expertise.

Not sure what has happened, but I was realizing yesterday as I was checking my phone because even though I told everyone I’d be out, no one listened, that I seem to have gone from leader to maternal figure. The meals get cooked. The litterbox gets scooped. There are paper towels and toilet paper and toilet bowl thingies. And worky things happen too that no one else has to worry about. But no one notices until momma is taking a day for herself, if even then.

Never once have I left a job where folks didn’t come back and say, “I had no idea you were doing that till it didn’t get done anymore.” I guess I always assume everyone heard me the first time when I said something. Of course, when cuts come around, that’s a dangerous assumption to make.

Missed an opportunity to speak up.

I recognized it. I told myself not to miss it. And then I clammed up.

Thought about a wonderful lunch I had with an old D.C. friend yesterday. God how nice to connect with someone from the same background (District denizen, publishing, intellectual, political, Florida transplant).

We spoke of how publishing is dead. He’s since left the biz because he demanded more and wasn’t getting it where he wanted it from. So he got it (money) somewhere else.

I said I didn’t think I could fall out of love with it. And that’s fine. But that doesn’t mean it will stay in love with me.

If ever it even was. Especially when I demand nothing from it because it supposedly has so little left to give right now.

I suggested a hire and we hired that person and OMG dream team.

Yes, I know. The giant meteor is on its way. But allow me to enjoy this rare moment in time of having a complete team that rocks.

Thank you, universe.

I’ll duck now …

Is a city. 

One I left eight years ago this month. 

This WaPo love letter wasn’t by me. But it could have been.  

D.C. is one of the few places in America where a keen interest in civics isn’t mocked, it’s celebrated. You see that quirky passion when your friends cram into your rowhouse to watch debates and make a presidential bingo scorecard. You can sit down to a casual lunch and strike up a conversation about women in the military with the two-star general sitting next to you. For a girls’ night out, you might suggest lining up to listen to Madeleine Albright speak at a think tank. When your college friends reminisce about their days tailgating, you’ll remember when your friends celebrated decisions on the steps of the Supreme Court and election outcomes in Lafayette Square.