Caterwauling

Yesterday was one of those days when I saw a bunch of colleague-types checking into Faceypages from Bermuda and Europe and others. Meanwhile I checked in at the grand opening of Wawa in Stuart.

To be fair, my experience was way cheaper. I won’t claim it was better and I don’t want to hear anyone play down their fun as it being too fast of a trip or not as fun as they made it look. Would rather they just say it was great and sucks to be you.

I remember thinking it was crazy of one of my places to send me to exotic locales. Mostly because it was very hard for me to pull it off financially. Eating one meal a day wasn’t fun either once I did get there.

But as the lovely Vitamin D put it into perspective for me, it was gracious of Big D to give up his spot for me. Give up his spot. Those words have echoed in my brain for 11 years. He did it for me. He picked me to represent him and everyone else.

I always took trips like that seriously. From no talking politics (honestly!) to always being “on,” even when my work shoes were off.

And for what it’s worth, I need to run back to Stuart today. And I will definitely be hitting Wawa again. I like it that much!

I’m going to buy something I forgot. Have been amassing a collection of sugar-skull decorations and cityscapes. Hot pink and black everywhere. For my next house.

I admit that I am not-nice to Mom sometimes, because I’m always buying HER decorations. Like, every weekend it feels. I always tell her that’s my retirement fund. My cardboard box will be festive for every season with things that are her taste. So it’s a big deal for me to come up with a new theme for my hope chest.

She said something that disturbed me the other day. She said she hopes she lives to see my next home because it’s going to be so well-coordinated.

That wasn’t all. She said, “You’re really going to fly when I’m gone.”

I don’t know about that. I mean, maybe. Possibly. I gots to get ME to Europe, that’s for sure. Unload the two storage units. Get rid of the clothes that don’t fit. Maybe buy some furniture or, better, a new car.

Uncle Tom, I think, was interested in giving us his car. But his daughter is giving it to HER daughter. The one whom he said never looked at him unless her hand was outstretched — looking for money. He worried that I still drive my grandfather’s and Mom doesn’t have a car anymore because of that.

The power of wills, people. Elaine gets it all.

Funny how my family was poor as fuck, but filled with love. I refused money when my family tried to offer it. I knew they were going without food to make sure I didn’t. Of course, they said my assumption was wrong. But it wasn’t. I know that now.

Now all Uncle Tom’s money will go to his ungrateful offspring. But Mom had his love. Somehow I think she got the better end of the deal, though.

Speaking of someone handing me money ($40 once a month, to be exact, during the 1990s), today would be Gram’s 89th birthday. The 17th one in heaven.

I was up most of the night. And doing math in my head. My mom was 42 when her mom died. The same age I am.

I’ve felt Gram’s absence every day. Mom was more of a Daddy’s girl and hasn’t been the same since we lost him 10 Novembers ago. But I was Gram’s favorite. 🙂

So yeah. I don’t know why some people get to have great experieces and money and prestige, but not all people. In some cases, I REALLY don’t. But I appreciate my little life. In fact, I need to appreciate it more.

I think that realization, and having time to DO it, makes me richer than most …

Weight Watchers asks its members hypothetically, “What’s your why?”

I never really had an answer. Because I didn’t even know what my “what” was.

So what’s “what”? To lose weight, get healthy? Well, duh.

It’s like when my AP English teacher asked us to write an essay on what we’d do with three wishes. I wrote a very practical (and totally half-assed), “I want a million dollars, I want it to come without strings attached, and I want three more wishes.”

I never got an F in my life. Not from this teacher, whom I dazzled with my creative poetry and off-the-wall approaches to her assignments. I got an F on that one, though.

My “what” is evolving. And I am checking things off the list without even knowing it.

Buying boots that don’t say “wide calf” … buying average-size wigs and headbands rather than the limited choices for big ones (check) … walking without “chub rub” or one pant leg riding up  … driving without the seatbelt choking me (check) … not having so much weight on my bladder because it’s f’ing annoying to pee once an hour, every hour … being able to shop in the juniors’ department near-exclusively (check) … being able to jog/run (check) … being able to fit comfortably on a metro or airplane seat without bleeding over the sides (check) … being able to use a laptop on a plane (check, although eff those who recline their seats in that tiny space) … etc.

Given that this is “what’s what,” I have a better idea of the why.

Because, knee socks.

I come from a family where everyone dies young. From no healthcare at all to lousy healthcare. So it’s important for me to take care of myself. To use natural remedies wherever possible.

I drink every kind of tea under the sun rather than taking meds to help my sleep, my allergies or my body processes.

So basically I don’t want to get sick(er). And having a pudgy pork roast ass doesn’t exactly help in that regard.

My family has been pretty sedentary. Looking out across the generations, I was one of probably two finish college. The women were mainly homemakers and the men fought for the Army and then retired to the steel mills and other odd jobs when the mills closed.

Nobody really did much in the way of taking walks. Not long ones. Aching joints for one. And always having older family members to take care of who can’t walk far or who can’t leave the house much at all.

I have that with Mom. But she’s trying now. She won’t go down without a fight. And she’s learning it from me.

My why, then, is I want to defy the family health history. I want to live a longer life than they did. I want to be mobile and physically independent and mentally strong.

I don’t want diabetes (we had a lot of that). We have a lot of the “C” word too so I’m really hoping that being healthy for as long as I can would help me to stave off anything of that magnitude. Or at least I’d be in fighting shape should a day like that ever come.

I guess it comes down to how I feel about relationships. I don’t want to be dependent on anyone. Don’t want to put up with a dumbass man to help me pay my rent and I don’t want to lean on disengaged healthcare workers to give a fuck whether I live or die or have a halfway comfortable existence. Because I know how that turns out.

My what is living as normal and fulfilling existence as possible. My why is because it’s possible and I’d be a damn fool not to do everything I can to make it happen.

Every witchy girl needs a black kitty …

It’s another awesome day. Truly.

Been a great week, actually.

Still busy as all get-out. But I have never been one to complain about that. (Other than the whole never being able to get a break thing.)

But now that I have seen that I can get a break, I have a whole new perspective. I love that I can even say “oh hey, now that I’m BACK …” because it means I left.

In any event, rather than waxing poetic about how beautiful Stockholm is in the fall, I just want to say I had a very good interview today.

And as I have to clarify, since someone asked where *I* am interviewing, I may get another “boy” to add to “my boys.”

In fact, he actually said to me, “My goal is to be one of your ‘boys.'” Which, come on — wouldn’t you hire this guy on that fact alone?

In any event, he’s been around the block too and he said he’s never met someone in my position who knows so much ABOUT so much. Like, I see a lot of mutual respect and trust in our potential future as colleagues. And that’s very important to me.

I don’t think it was b.s. when he was paying me compliments. Which, trust me — (sincere) flattery will get you as far as I can possibly help you to get.

Then I identified a big problem, and my friends got together and solved it before anyone else noticed it. Which is kind of what we DO but it makes the day doubleplusgood.

I love this day and this week.

A really good cup of coffee. 

A fresh salad with grilled chicken and sweet mixed berries. 

The day under control amid a super-busy (yay!) week. 

Thoughtful debates with my two favorite analysts. 

I ain’t got nothing to complain about right in this moment. 

And that’s exactly the way I like it. 

May you have an equally fulfilling slice of zen in your world. 

Mom asked to take a walk with me two nights ago. Just around our lake, which is 1,000 steps door to door.

I was proud. That’s a lot for her. 

Last night she wanted to do it again. At the end of the lap, she asked to go again. 

Doubly proud. 

I hope this is the beginning of a trend. Maybe she’s seen me lose 30 pounds and feel better, and she’s ready to do the same. 

One of these days when her pain isn’t so intense, I’ll teach her my secret. Which is to walk with purpose. 

I found I tend to burn a little more when I walk taller, suck in my gut and really walk with determination. 

Raise the knee just a shade higher. Try to take bigger steps. 

Don’t run on your tiptoes (as I’ve done all my life lest fat girl pound the pavement literally and shake the earth). 

Basically take up space and don’t shrink in terror from your surroundings. As fat girls tend to do. The less people see you, the less chance of them making fun of you. 

Now it feels like nobody is making fun of me. Maybe they are. Either I don’t notice, or I just assume they are shouting a compliment at me. 

Even though it doesn’t look like it, I’ve worked hard. I earned a compliment or two. Even if the only person to give it to me is myself. 

And by mom wanting to join me on a walk, that’s the biggest compliment of all. 

I didn’t want to write about 9/11. But as I binge-watch brand-new specials on the History Channel, just like I was glued to the news 15 years ago, it occurs to me how much work has changed. 

Like I said in my last post, 9/11 is like our BC/AD line. 

For me, a near-immediate move to D.C. made sense. I drove past the blackened wing of the Pentagon until they rebuilt it. The new facade was a starkly different shade than the rest of the building.

Over time, it got weathered and the average commuter would never see the difference. But we knew where the wreckage was. 

You don’t drive up 395 and not have it haunt your subconscious. Especially when the world is focused on NYC. 

Then, I worked with people who selflessly booked trips to NYC to offer therapy to the first responders. 

Now, I work with people who worked in the Twin Towers, on the NYSE, had buddies who died because they worked at Cantor Fitzgerald and other financials. I see the footage now and I scan for familiar faces. Because they were there. 

Work changed post-9/11. Dress codes loosened. If there’s a fireball flying at you, sneakers and jeans should appal no one. Working from home beats not being able to get to work at all. 

I know people who couldn’t be on time if they tried. I was always in early and out late. But the early birds at the Pentagon and the Towers were fucked. Wish we could know the ratio of bosses to workers who showed up on time. 

My friend Shan and I, our conversations are well-documented on this 15-year-old blog. 

We ached for the poor saps who were unhappy but dragged themselves in each day. Who had dreams they weren’t chasing that day. Who didn’t get to chase them eventually. 

We ached for those who died doing what they loved. That their passion and talent only took them to their deathbed. But we respected the hell out of them. 

Basically we just wanted to do more than tolerate life. To have passion and joy and respect and love. We wanted to open our own business. I’m pretty sure I still have our handwritten plans. 

We haven’t done it yet. We still talk but not as much. We still have dreams. But they feel so much bigger than they did back then. 

I’m thinking of her today. Not going to call. But happy that 9/11 caused us both to job-switch and end up in the same company on the same day. 

That’s how I prefer to remember this day. Even if my posts of years past say otherwise. 🙂

15 years since that tragic Tuesday morning. I have nothing new to say. But judging by Facebook, everybody else does. 

Never forget, they say. As if. So, social media blackout today. 

Of course if you think about it, today’s high schoolers either weren’t born yet or were too little to understand. Your average freshman was still gestating at this point. 

God. Can you remember life before 9/11? It’s like the BC/AD line of modern times. 

For me, this marks 15 years since I bought my first car, tossed my Calico kitty in the backseat, left town and never looked back. I didn’t know where life would lead, as long as it was anywhere else. 

Funny how I never really lost that feeling, no matter where I ended up. 

I was an executive. I left to become a journalist. Figured I was a hard worker and would reclaim that title in no time. 

Lol. 

I’m healthier now, physically. Not sure if I’ll ever be as spiritually light as I was in my 20s. But I’m not getting drunk and scarfing down pizza and diner food to fill the hours. 

Like today, I put on my bathing suit top and took a walk rather than nursing my pre-911 hangovers with vodka. 

I even fit into a new pair of shorts I got yesterday for eight bucks. 

I still hope I’ll amount to something professionally. But I don’t mind having time to get a tan, either. 

Here’s to another 15 years of being ok. 

Today was mom’s actual birthday. 59. With the health of a 103-year-old. 

She asked to join me to feed the ducks. Which I haven’t done in a few days. We have so many now. I buy seed in bulk but they’re starving. It’s never enough. She gets depressed about that, and I don’t want to deal. 

She must feel the same way when I mention certain names as I do when she talks about neighbors or ducks. 

She also wanted to come to the mailbox in our clubhouse. Naturally her friends are as useful as mine, as the usual suspects were absent as usual with their birthday cards. This after I fussed over her BFF just last week. 

Except …

There was a card from Uncle Tom. Sent Friday, pre-holiday weekend, so he could get it to her on her day. 

We sat at the pool and cried. He died Sunday as far as we know. Maybe sooner. 

And it was so hard for him to get to a mailbox at 86 with his health.  

But he did it. For her. 

If there’s a heaven, he’s in it. I thanked him for showing love to her when no one else did/has. 

She would murder me for taking this pic. She held onto his letter for an hour, unopened. It struck me when she said, there’s no one to send a thank-you to anymore. 

She thanked him for every note. She loved seeing his handwriting. And he came to worry if there was a delay in getting a note from her. Which was rare. Her etiquette is pretty impeccable. 

They were pen pals for 10 years. 

I don’t know if she’s opened that letter yet. I won’t ask. I’m just so happy she received it. 

Thank you, Uncle Tom. Love you bunches. Thank you for loving my momma so much. 

Coming back to work after five working days (10 full days, thank you Labor Day) away is like letting a mental patient back into society.

Sure, I was up and dressed and at my perch on time. I had my to-do list ready with seven things but with certain plans to knock out three of them.

And then, “oh hey we’re launching a project tomorrow” was said to someone else. And that matters to me. (So glad I heard it.) That’s because I have a couple parts in it that I haven’t done because I didn’t know when it was launching. And my part in it is pretty timely.

While it was no big deal, and I banged the bulk of it out by 1 p.m., I feel … fragile. Like, whoa. Needed just a little warning there. Don’t disturb the crazy person yet.

(Now to do those other three big things …)

I mean, I’m glad no one asked me about it last week. Facebook Memories reminds me quite clearly that I was working during several holidays past. But it’s very weird how completely off it threw me.

And I felt my quelled anxiety bubble to the surface again. Which is weird because this is no big deal and I could do this in my sleep. Truly.

But this was a big day. Of the last 10 days, I wore makeup once. Fixed my hair exactly zero times. Wore nothing but shorts and halters and Coppertone dry oil with SPF 12. Today? Makeup, hair, outfit, and brain usage. No sliding into it!

Actually I’m pretty lucky. It’s a more creative environment. No need for suits and “stupid shoes” (my name for things that pinch and make you bleed). If you want to get up and walk around, you get up and walk around. Hungry? Undercaffeinated? Fix it at your earliest convenience. Etc.

It made me think of quite a few high achievers I knew who went off-course, shall we say. I never quite knew how to address them after that. Didn’t want to be the reason they got knocked off the wagon or regressed.

So I took a little walk. Couldn’t be a long one, but better than nothing. Grabbed my worry stone and started rubbing. Took this little brain break to bang out this incoherence. And now, back to it for as long as my body can handle.

Interesting how my brain is just fine. Alive, alert, ready and even hungry. But my body? In near-rebellion mode. And I have no idea how to get them back into sync …

Hello, back-to-school anxiety. Been 10 days since we’ve been acquainted. 

Saw this online somewhere. Did screen grabs rather than getting the hyperlink. 

Sounds about right …