Same as it ever was

Some days you wake up and think to yourself, "How did I end up here?" Now for most folks it would be the days of your partygirl time that would make them think this. But for you it's the days of "normalcy." Not that you're looking for drama, just something more.

Today you realized that beyond Facebook and your inconsistent blogging, the only means of positive human contact upon which you can count are the delivery people -- the postal carrier, UPS, FedEx, GSO -- you see each day at work.

Once upon a time family members were sick and/or dying. You checked out on everything else for the most part. And then the day came that you were ready to re-enter the world at large only to discover your "life" was gone. This is the argument you have given to family members regarding your dad. "I simply can't go back there because it will be all about him and I will lose myself along the way all over again." But it's too late; you're already lost.

So now you try to figure out how to get out of the hole you've dug for yourself. If you were still renting, the answer would be simple. Pack up and move. Start again. But it's not so easy now. Then again, hasn't this always been your answer? Pack up and move on instead of sticking around and figuring out a way to make it all work?

And please don't suggest going to church. So not the scene around here.

Honesty

Yes, I am still here. When I started blogging nearly six years ago, it was all about being honest. The thing is that sometimes I just don't feel like being honest with the world at large. So first I'd like to share the photos I have taken over the last two months. Because I took them with the intention of writing posts.


The weather turned chilly but I had a taste for ribs. For the first time ever I slow cooked them in the oven. Usually I grill ribs. But after tasting these ribs, they just might be a year-round thing.

And then I found a bunch of recipes I wanted to try -- I believe it was an issue of Sunset -- and so I invited Fluffycat over.


We started with this Romesco soup.


And there was a Caesar salad with homemade dressing and parmesan toast crisps.


Caramelized shallots and walnuts.


Grilled beef roast stuffed with basil, sage and thyme.


Pear pecan upside down cake.

And then this past week Dungeness crab season started. The first crab I had, I simply heated with melted butter on the side. For the second (and third) I decided to try something new to my kitchen.


Oven roasted crab. Roasted in a mixture of butter and olive oil containing garlic, shallots, red pepper flakes, parsley and thyme. Once roasted, I removed the crab and added fresh orange juice to the pan juices. The reduced pan juices were poured over the crab.

So yeah. This is basically what I have eaten over the last two months. Because I decided to take yet another trip down the rabbit hole. It used to be that I would end up there by accident but sometime in the last ten years or so, I decided that it was OK to willingly take a trip there. I say to myself, "Let's just take the ride and see where we end up, " even though a part of me knows this could all end up badly.

I am "better" now. Today I had some tea and a bagel with cream cheese at work. And then I came home and had the last of the crab. And about a third of a chicken breast. I don't need to log the food anymore because I eat so little that it's easy to remember it all. I eat small amounts because my brain tells me that my stomach is full quite early these days. Except for that day that I went to Fenton's a month ago. Then I was able to consume both the crab salad sandwich and a jumbo banana shake. OK. So maybe that was my only food for the day but still. Oh and I would have taken photos for y'all but it was a date and I didn't want to seem too strange.

Bottom line is that I held off on posting because I didn't feel like sharing this stuff. Me and my disordered eating. But hey. Depending on the day, I am 12-15 pounds lighter than I was a year ago. And over the last month or so, I stopped losing weight but did lose inches. Because this past weekend I did actually get into my size 27 People's Liberation jeans -- something I've never been able to do since I bought them. Yes, they were snug but they actually zipped. And yeah, maybe this helps to feed the disordered eating. But there was that one evening a few weeks ago that I caught my reflection and actually thought that I was thin. I can't ever remember thinking that in my life. Since I was 12, all I have seen when I look in the mirror are places in which I could lose weight. I like to think that the last couple of weeks have been better. Except for that time period when the hormones fucked with my head. Because they do that.

Honestly I haven't wanted to put this all out there because I've heard all the responses that people make. Not fishing for compliments or anything else. Just saying this is who I am and where my head has been.

And now? I have a bunch of food in the fridge that I plan to cook for Thanksgiving. It's been three years since I've cooked. It will be just me and the cats, just like the other years when I cooked. This will just be the first year that I will cook and won't be able to dump leftovers on my aunt. Because from what I hear, I potentially have another year to go on this whole grieving thing. Each day gets better though.

Some things never change

You ever feel like you have so much to say yet nothing at all at the same time? That's where I am. I take photos and say that I'll write a post but then I have nothing. So let's see if I can make sense of images from last weekend.


The last time I grilled arrachera, I followed the traditional marinating procedures. Now I love cumin as much as the next girl but it had way too much cumin for my taste. Sheesh. Never thought I would say that. This time around I wanted cleaner flavors. So I stuck with salt, pepper, garlic, lime juice and olive oil. Much more the experience I sought. After tasting the cooked meat, I wrapped it up and deposited it into the freezer.


While the meat was marinating, I took another stab at potato salad. I have always thought that I was following my real mom's recipe in the past but it turns out, I wasn't. I knew in the past I had not used nearly enough boiled eggs and mustard. But the real secret is the pickle relish. I grew up believing that Yankees use dill while Southerners use sweet. Turns out that Mom uses a combination of both. And since she makes the best potato salad in the world, I have to believe in her choice. I've barely put a dent in the bowl.


While I was in the store picking up potatoes and celery for the potato salad, I thought that I may as well pick up some peaches for a cobbler. I made it in a smaller pan this time so the crust to filling ratio was more to my liking. I finally tasted it today.

Here's the thing. I like to cook. And in the past I rarely ate it. I woke up last Sunday knowing that I had gained a few of the pounds that I had lost back and wanted to be rid of them once more -- and then some. I then proceeded to cook a bunch of stuff guaranteed to put more pounds on my ass. Why? Because cooking relaxes me. It also helps me to forget that I really don't have anything better to do -- except clean.

Mostly I haven't posted because I've been dealing with a lot of emotions which I have struggled to put into words. Now I think I have some ideas.

I am once more fighting my nomadic soul. There is a voice in my head that is screaming, "Run. Pack up and move away," but I know that I can't right now. Instead once a week I look at real estate listings.

I keep telling myself that I need four more years. Hopefully by then I will be in a position to move once more. Hopefully back to Berkeley. I love that I own my condo; I am just not enamored with the location. Then again maybe the development across the street will finally happen. If so, that could change my opinion completely.

Then there is my job. I like what I do. And I'm really good at it. This is now the longest I have been at any one place as far as work is concerned. Usually I left because I felt like I had plateaued. See? More of the nomadic soul. I'm pretty much at that place once more but I really want to give stability a try. And I guess it could be a lot more bearable except for the one thing I just realized today. This is the first job at which I do not socialize with my coworkers on a regular basis. In many ways I have always buried myself in my work but because there was also a social aspect to it all, I never really minded.

Bottom line is what I guess I am feeling is loss. I feel like I'm replaying every time I have had someone close to me die. Except this time someone hasn't died. And so I have had to spend the past couple of weeks defending my position to others. And I feel tired. But what I really want is something different.

Donors

I read Sizzle's post earlier today and I thought, "How nice." I thought how it's really easy to look back on the positive stuff someone has done when they are no longer here. But when you're thigh deep in the crazy and trying to find your way out of the swamp? Not so easy.

I spoke to my "real dad" and my uncle today. Because you know. They're dads. And they both asked if I had spoken to my father today. Uh no. I was even asked if I had at least sent a card. Once more no. Real dad then said, "But he's your father." My response was, "Oh. You mean the DNA donor."

Because right now I can't think of that man as my father. Recent reports indicate that his behavior is much improved. But I've seen that before. I just can't trust him anymore. I never really could

The first time that I realized that he would lie to make himself look good in the eyes of others -- to my detriment -- was when I was about ten or so. It was yet another one of the many bricks in my wall that started when my parents' marriage deteriorated. It's when I learned to be what people want you to be -- if it suits your purpose at that time. But the most important lesson was that no one could ever see all of you at one time. Because then they had the power to hurt you. And I was never going to let anyone hurt me that much ever again in my life. Looking back, I want to cry for my ten-year-old self. Because that's not what being ten should be about.

I have spent years forgiving my parents of their past transgressions. But I never forgot. And I know that if I spoke to them now, they would ask, "Why are you bringing up all this old shit once more?" Why? Because I feel like we've gone full circle. But I choose to not have the conversation because I know the words have been spoken before and it's pointless.

And so I'd like to say Happy Father's Day to the guys who are really dads. Me? I just have a couple of people who donated some DNA -- and a bunch of baggage. Me? I'm just trying to lighten the load -- especially since I was evidence today that the crazy is about to get a lot more crazy. Good thing? I don't have to be in the middle of it now.

The abyss

There is a deep hole in me that I hide with smiles and sarcasm. It started with the stuff from yesterday's post but includes so much more. It is my opinion that perfectionists are made and not born.

The craziness of my childhood turned me into a people pleaser. I don't like conflict and am always trying to figure out how to make others happy. This is why the one therapist made me go through all the exercises on self-esteem.

Thing is I have never been able to get rid of the nagging voice in my head. The voice that says that I have fucked up. The voice that says that I will never be good enough.

I realized this in the last month. My boss makes everyone who reports to him come up with annual goals and we check in with him every two weeks to report our progress. I met with my boss a day or so before my dad had been released from the hospital. In the prior two week period I had done absolutely nothing to meet my goals. I had also made a couple of major mistakes at work. I just hadn't been present. So two weeks later, it was time for the meeting and I was scrambling to figure out what I had accomplished. I pulled some stuff together and was prepared to bullshit my way through it all. If anything, I can always spin things so that I look good. But I sat there in the chair across the desk from my boss and thought about how I was about to be told what a major fuck-up I am. There's not really a reason why I should think this. When I had my annual review (and received my bonus check), I was told how much they appreciate me. The only explanation is that I have spent a lot of years not feeling appreciated.

And so I realized just how deep the hole in me goes. I am always worrying about being accepted, appreciated, liked. Really. Almost every single second. I say or do something and I worry what others will think. I see two people I know having a conversation in which I am not included and a part of my mind will at times think that they are discussing what a loser I am.

This is the root of what makes me suck at the whole dating thing. I become this needy person who needs constant reassurance. And even if you say that you love me, why should I really believe you? The people who were supposed to love me first -- my parents -- said it plenty of times but their actions said something different.

So imagine my dismay this weekend. After a Friday spent under assault, in my opinion, all I really wanted was someone who would reassure me that even if I didn't do what others wanted, I was still an OK person. Originally the weekend was supposed to be spent with Drummer Boy but then he found out that he needed to work. I understand that. The hurt little girl doesn't understand not hearing from him though. No, he doesn't know about what went down but I just kind of figured that he would contact me regardless. And then I started thinking that perhaps this is why he had stopped being a part of my life before. I did try to get in touch with him but refrained from doing so more than once. Because that abyss inside of me? Well sometimes I worry that it makes me too needy. To contact him more than the one time that I had might make him feel this way was what I argued in my mind.

And so instead I wrote yesterday's post. It felt much safer.

The road to here

Life started out OK, or at least it seemed that way to me. I was born a year after the college sweethearts moved to California. They had been married for two years at that point. My mother chose to be a SAHM until I was three. There were baked goods, dinner on the table at six and quality time with mom that included sitting on her lap while she read various books to me. She knit sweaters and made wonderful Halloween costumes for me. It was many years later when I found that my mother was a pretty skilled artist and besides the textile arts, she does a decent job with drawing and painting. But that was at a point at which the world had already shifted quite a bit.

I remember all of this clearly since my memory starts sometime between ages two and three for me. Really. But there are about two years missing from my memory that I know I will never be able to retrieve. As an adult, I now know that this lapse starts about the time at which my parents' marriage began to disintegrate. But it's not all gone. I can tell you about school during that time period. Just don't ask me about home.

I can tell you why my parents split. They started telling me the why of it all when I was about ten, I believe. (They divorced when I was eight but the deterioration of their relationship started when I was about six.) I know that my mother was not satisfied with being a SAHM. I know that my dad felt that in his role as the provider, there was no need for his wife to work. As such, why did she insist upon working? It had been fine for his mother after all. Then the divorce happened and we began our journey on becoming the people we are today.

My mother while loving her job felt empty. She filled the emptiness with daily shopping. Dinner was no longer on the table at six. Instead I was often told that I was on my own. I often dined with my "real parents." And I would escape to Jade's house.

My father tried to adjust to being single and along the way dived into the bottle. By the time I was 12, I was able to figure out that someone who can kill a fifth of whatever in a single afternoon had a problem. He would drink and tell me how he had failed as a husband and how it pained him. That's about the time I stopped the biweekly visits. It's not like he was showing up on the doorway, beating it down and demanding his visitation rights anyway.

And me? I felt alone but slowly figured out how to get through it all. But every now and then I wanted them to listen to me. And so I'd do something self-destructive. That is our dynamic. They can only hear me when I have done something completely fucked up.

In looking back, I realize that it all began much earlier than I had previously thought. At age 11, my best friend and I proclaimed that we were tired of getting straight A's. Apparently our teacher overheard us and shared this with my mom at a parent-teacher conference. The adults were concerned because getting A's had always come easy to me; getting anything less took conscious effort. And so I just stopped doing the work.

By the next school year, I found myself in for a conference with both my parents and my English teacher. My decision to stop turning in work had earned me a D. I was allowed to make up the work and so received a C instead. It could have been higher if I had actually completed all of the make-up work.

This is what I remember most though. I remember sitting at the kitchen table at my mom's house while both my parents lectured me on how this just was not acceptable. They may have even asked why I did it. And I sat there in silence. Finally they asked what I wanted. "You wish you were somewhere else, don't you?" I looked them in their eyes and calmly said, "I wish I were dead." There was a great deal of fussing about how I should never say that. And so I never said the words again.

Instead I quietly skipped meals. Because at 5'9" and 110 pounds, I had decided that I was fat. When I looked in the mirror, I'm not sure that there was anything about myself that I liked. Why should I? The message that I got at home was that I rarely got anything right. Or it was, "You can't say or act that way because your behavior is a reflection upon me. I will not have people talking about how I am not doing things right because of how you act." Those may not be the exact words but that was the gist of it. And I now know that this is when I learned to lock away little bits of myself, how to let others see only what I thought they wanted to see.

It all started to eat away at me though. By junior year of high school, I was clearly depressed. I felt very alone in the world save for a handful of friends. These wonderful people are still my friends today. Besides my friends, the other thing that kept me going was knowing that I'd go to college soon and have a chance at freedom.

Somehow it all came to a head in my college years though. I spent a great deal of my 20s in and out of therapy. I would try to talk to my parents but they just couldn't hear me. And so there were the suicide attempts that would finally make them listen if only for a few days. My first therapist recognized what was I doing. She told me, "You don't really want to die. You just want people to pay attention, to listen. You don't know how to get them to listen otherwise. I'm just afraid that one of these days in trying to get them to listen, you'll actually succeed in killing yourself."

I spent a year with another therapist after my last suicide attempt. She's the one who made me go through all the self-esteem exercises. She reiterated what the previous therapist -- and the ones after both of them -- have said. In order to save myself, I might one day have to let go of certain people.

I was well into my 30s before the thought of suicide finally was no longer an option in my mind. I promised myself then that I would never go down that road again. I now knew how to recognize the early signs. This is what I have seen over the last couple of years -- that I was no longer going forward, but instead was moving backward.

Why write this now? Because yesterday I let my guard down a little too much. First there was the phone call from my "real dad." I have been talking to his wife over the last week or so. She understands. He on the other hand has heard my dad crying, whining, whatever about how he didn't understand why I no longer want to speak to him. Real dad wanted to mediate things. Problem is that in my mind there just isn't anything to mediate. There was nothing that I could say to my dad that I haven't said before. I said I was tired of the lies, the false promises. I just can't go down that road again.

And then I got a visit from my dad's oldest brother and his wife last night. They wanted me to patch things up with my dad -- because that's what family does. There was talk about how sometimes you swallow things to prevent discord in the family. Oh, and that they accept me as I am. This was in response to my saying that I feel like I get lost along the way in the whole family dynamic, that friends who have seen me around them say that I stop being me. I won't be talking to them any time soon.

That's why I can share this now. To help you to understand something that they never will. That to go back into all of this now feels like it would just kill me. I can talk myself blue in the face yet they will never get it. And I just can't ever go back to that place again. Mostly because I kind of enjoy rediscovering who I really am.

If you haven't guessed yet, this is something I wrote for me. Something to make sense of it all.

Proof

Not for you. For me.


Since November this dress has been my beacon. The last time I wore it last year during some gin-filled weekend, I could only do so with the aid of a foundation garment. Every time I was ready to give up on the weight loss thing, I pulled this dress out and tried it on as it has always been one of my favorites. A month ago I got the zipper halfway up. And then figured out how I could drop some more weight. For over a month, my weight has been at a constant for the most part. I have not reached what I thought would be my final goal. And then I started noticing that clothes were getting loose. I guess I've been busy exchanging fat for muscle. So a week ago I pulled the dress back out and tried it on. It zipped with absolutely no problem. And then I tried on a bunch of other stuff. Yes, I could get into them but they still don't fit the way they used to so I still have some to lose.


After getting all the yummy food on Sunday, I remembered this dress. I bought it almost two years ago on clearance from The Gap. When it arrived, it didn't fit. But I kept it anyway. And for the first time ever, it actually fits.

Now to get those other dresses to fit. Before summer.

One year

Yesterday started out kind of crappy. On my drive into work, it suddenly hit me that yesterday marked one year since my aunt had her stroke. My cousin and I say that that's when she died but she stayed on life support for two days so tomorrow is technically the anniversary of her death. Yesterday was also the one year anniversary of the day I signed the closing papers for my condo.

I walked into work sure that it was going to be a crappy day. Then my boss called me into his office. My first thought was, "What have I fucked up now?" Not that I regularly fuck things up. Yes, I occasionally make mistakes -- that become huge fuck-ups in my head. Because no one is harder on me than myself. But my boss was calling me in to give me my review and to tell me about my bonus check. Yeah, we still get those around here. Not as lavish as in past years but a check nonetheless. And my boss told me that he wished it could have been more. And that while they don't say it every day, they appreciate my efforts.

So now I am starting to think that this is what each passing year will be -- a mixture of really crappy with really good. I am determined to try to remember the happy instead of the sad. That's what my aunt would want.

The obvious is getting my condo. Truth be told, this is not the end of the road as far as home for me though. I dream of moving in another five years or so. I still want a yard. And another bedroom. But buying the condo has taught me that things that I once thought to be impossible just might be possible.

I have a job at which for the first time in a really long time I am appreciated. I spent years at jobs at which I felt emotionally beat up on a daily basis. This has been a refreshing change. I don't know if I could have survived the past couple of years in other working environments. When I had those days in which I just couldn't get out of bed due to the depression and called in sick, I was told to take care of myself so that I could come back the person they had first gotten to know. I am eternally grateful for having understanding employers during the last couple of years of crazy. In the fall I will hit my three-year anniversary at this employer. I have never worked in any one place for more than three years but I know that I have no intention of leaving here any time soon. I guess this is another example of how I am kind of giving up my wandering, non-committing ways.

I like to think that I am finally learning how to truly take care of myself. I have spent the past year disengaging from dynamics that I just didn't feel were healthy for me. The hardest part is when others don't get it and try to get me to change my mind. "You only have one mother..." Yes, I do but that doesn't mean that she has to be an active part of my everyday life -- especially since she has repeatedly shown no respect for the boundaries that I have tried to set.

It's strange, to me at least. For the first time in years I feel truly happy. I guess that this is what has made the crappy moments bearable -- the knowing that I have come out the other side a better me.

On track

I am not a big sandwich person. About the only exceptions to this are Reubens, Carolina bbq pork and burgers. With the weight loss thing, I haven't had any really. Because bread is evil. No, it is. Really.

But today the stars aligned and declared that I absolutely had to have a burger. So I headed on over the fairly newish Boulevard Burger on MacArthur. Because look. They have sweet potato fries too. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. They have now replaced Rocky's as my favorite burger joint in San Leandro.

Oh yeah. Totally forgot to mention that this was kind of a celebration. My current weight? Haven't seen this number in at least a year. I still have more weight that I'd like to lose. But today I treated myself to a burger (There will be salad for dinner.) as a reminder that it's OK to eat like this every now and again. Just not every day.

Let's try this again

A year ago I hoped that 2009 would be better than 2008. And it was in many ways. Thing is that when I said that, I meant no more relatives dying. Lesson learned? The universe needs clear, concise directions. So let me be clear this time. No more death. I'd like to continue climbing out of this hole that I have been in over the last couple of years and move on with living.


I am the child of superstitious Southerners. Some of those superstitions I hold close to my heart. They are a part of my core of being. One of these states that whatever you are doing on New Year's Day will set the tone for the rest of your year. Over the last few years I have chosen to interpret this as that I should be doing things that I enjoy -- reading, cooking, relaxing. Therefore, I go through great pains in the week leading up to New Year's to ensure that my home is clean so that I will not feel obligated to do anything other than the dishes. And nothing says relaxation like a nice bubble bath.

The final tradition has to do with food. I am a Southerner at heart and so must have pork, black eyed peas and some sort of greens to start off my New Year. (This past week I came across this article on various lucky foods around the world.)

My parents are truly traditionalists. Pork means pig's feet, ears, tails, chitterlings and/or neckbones. (The only one those that I will consume is neckbones.) And my mother feels that black eyed peas must be accompanied by rice. Thing is I don't really like rice. Never have. Although I do like brown rice.


So each year I make sure that I have those three foods. And each year I move a bit further away from the traditional preparation of them. This year I had thought of making the stuffed pork chops once more but then I came across this pork loin roast and bells went off. For many years I have done pork loin roast with a stuffing of sauteed onions, bread crumbs and fresh herbs. Why couldn't I just butterfly the roast and instead stuff it with a mixture of blue cheese and pecans? And the drippings could make the base of a lovely sauce. But then I realized that it really needed something sweet to counter the bite of the blue cheese. Answer? A pear apple chutney. Finishing off the plate is a mixture of black eyed peas with mustard greens and chard. That's right. I combined them. Because this dish alone makes a lovely vegetarian entree. It may not be pretty but it was damn tasty. And I also know that I have done everything in my power to make sure this year will be OK.

But I still worry. Now that I've done it all right, will universe understand me this year?

Finally coming to an end

I have had lots of time to contemplate things over the last couple of weeks and to make list upon list. Not one of those lists is a list of resolutions though. Because I don't believe in making them. I figure that if you are going to make changes in your life, why wait for January 1 to roll around? That's part of the reason why I embarked upon the weight loss path back in November -- because by doing so then meant to me that I really wanted to make those changes. One of my coworkers had started off on the endeavor with me but said right before Thanksgiving that she would wait until January because it's just too hard during the holiday season. Me? I like a challenge. What's a couple of obstacles like holiday meals? I figure if you can get through something when it's the absolutely hardest to do, then you're ready for anything that life hands you.Other thoughts were around traditions. December has been a bit of a challenge over the last couple of years but I'll get it all figured out. And as the new year approached, I suddenly realized that I have longstanding traditions for the start of the year.

I stopped going out on New Year's Eve long ago. Hey. I'm a professional partier and don't like to mix with the rank amateurs like that. So I prepare a tray of food and hunker in for the evening with a selection of books and DVDs.


This years tray features salad, seafood and cheeses -- some of my usuals. The bacon wrapped scallops came from Trader Joe's but the ramekin contains Baked Oysters with Bacon and Leeks -- something I whipped up once I got home from work. Oh, and the bottle is from Domaine Carneros -- a lovely blanc de noir. And let me perfectly honest. I have survived today on green tea and water just so that I could make this calorie splurge. I haven't really lost any weight since around Thanksgiving, but I have also managed to get through this season without gaining back any of the weight I have loss to date. I call that a win.

Here's to hoping that 2010 is a much better year. For now I must return to my tray and try to decide which movie first, and if it's time to throw another log on the fire. And I hope that wherever you are tonight, you are happy and safe.

Finding center

When I started this blog, I said that Tuesdays would be about media. And now I'm trying to get back to that place. I think the theme for today comes from these song lyrics...

"Don't matter you're wearin'
It's about the way you wear it"

Really it is. It's about the attitude that you have when you walk in the door. You have to own the place. And to not be afraid of it.

I could do this in college without thinking about it but if anyone complimented me on this, I would pooh-pooh them. This changed after the year I spent in therapy in my post-grad years. (And silly you, thought that this would be all about music.)


During that year, I worked through the exercises in the book pictured. All these years later, I am not completely there but now I am cognizant of my triggers -- and the root of these triggers.

I know that when the ground beneath my feet suddenly feels like it's slipping, I will try to grab control wherever I can -- usually in trying to control my weight. I know that I can find other ways to ask for help instead of destroying myself. I know that I am not alone; I just sometimes choose the wrong people upon whom to depend. But most of all, I know that I am more than the negative voices I heard in my life that I managed to internalize along the way. And contrary to those voices, I am a good person, I am attractive, I am deserving of all the good that comes my way. And when I forget this, I re-read passages in this book.


But before this book, there was another. There was a book that told me that we as individuals can survive almost anything. To me Taoism is about letting it all happen. You are yourself regardless of the events in your life. This has been my go-to book over the last 20-plus years when I feel like I am losing my way, losing myself. I cannot count the number of times I have read this book. It is always one of the first things I unpack when I move.

And why now? Well, there's been lots of crazy going on around here -- family, work, the holiday season. And so I've gone back to my favorite books while I try to figure out how I plan to navigate future holiday seasons.

Hello old friend

When I embarked on this weight loss thing seven weeks ago, I gave up red meat. Oh how I have missed it. But as I have become more savvy, I have learned how to reintroduce it into my diet while still sticking to my ever decreasing calorie count.

I started this dish on Saturday right before I started the cioppino since it required more cooking time. I didn't have to worry about removing tomato skins at the end as I had skinned the tomatoes before dropping them into the pot. And I addeda half cup of Parmesan to the polenta. Next time I will dredge the beef first so that I end up with a thicker sauce.

But the best thing of all? Stepped on the scale this morning to discover that I have lost a total of ten pounds to date. I am elated.

Braving the weather

Now I know that some of y'all in colder climates are saying to yourselves, "Weather? Those Californians are such wimps." Yes, we are. We like our temperate climate. But this is an El Nino year so I see lots of rain and cold in our immediate future. And lots of whining as a result. We are petulant privileged children. (Say that fast three times. I double dog dare you.)


But Friday evening was the start of Hanukkah. And me? I am down with any religious holiday that involves food. (Note to self -- Must research Hindu and Buddhist traditions for ones that involve food as well as I am only versed in the Christian, Jewish and Islamic ones.) So Friday I headed out into the awful rain to Berkeley. Saul's had a latke tent for the weekend. I cannot even begin to describe my love of latkes. OK. It is not as great as my love of blintzes but still.


This weekend was more about this inspiration though. When Maddie and Boy Toy were out here in August, we hit a couple of wineries and I joined their wine clubs. Imagine my surprise at the beginning of November when instead of my usual two bottles, I received this beauty. Yes, it is a magnum. And yes, in this photo it is completely empty. How? Well, I sent out an Evite and cooked up some food.


There was my usual goat cheese with fig and walnut tapenade to start the evening. The main was a salad, bread, moussaka and spinach lasagna (pictured). There were children running around laughing and playing. Adults were busy catching up on one another's lives. Jade said that she had watched Julie and Julia earlier in the day and it made her think of me. For me, it felt like home.


I awoke this morning a bit fuzzy around the edges. And then it hit me. They had eaten everything. There was no food left save the baklava even though they had put a pretty healthy dent in it as well. The remainder will be going to work with me tomorrow as I am sticking true to my weight loss goal. Because -- squeeee! -- I had lost another pound when I got on the scale this morning. I now weigh less than I did back in July. This is real and I can do it. And the fact that I'm doing it during the holiday season and at a time that I am vulnerable to using food as a crutch proves to me that I can do this anytime.

Today I also did a kind of hard thing. I went to meet my mother to go to the movies. I realized on the way there that I have not seen a movie in a theater in over two years. Scary. Five years ago I used to see at least 75 or so movies per year in a theater. With my DVD viewing, I easily watched 200 movies a year. I miss it. Maybe if and when I get my bonus check in January (Yes, my company is still giving those out.), I will rejoin the San Francisco Film Society. Because I do need to take my non-flabby self out to places and all.

I totally survived going to the movies with my mom. While she enjoyed Invictus, she did not like it as much as Blind Side. Me? I would have liked it more if she had not been reciting the poem throughout the movie but I knew it would happen. But how can you not love this?

"I am the master of my fate.
I am the captain of my soul."

It tied in beautifully with watching "Dollhouse" Friday night. Here's where I would put in the warning about plot spoilers and all but I suspect that at this point, I'm the only one watching. Echo met up with a previous engagement -- a guy who wanted her to be his dead wife. The guy had finally moved on in his life and was engaged but when he saw Echo, everything came back for him.

"I thought I was past this."

"You never get past it. It becomes a part of who you are."

So true. And me now? It's all about having a home that I can open up to others. And on days in which there is not a Save the Air warning, a fire in the fireplace. By the way, the screen came from my aunt's house. And so a little bit of her will always be with me. Because sometimes we need to see it. But I know that I carry a little bit of the four women I have lost in these last 15 months or so in me. I would not be who I am today if not for them. And I will never forget this. They taught me to cook, to set a pretty table, to be a gracious hostess, to find joy in being around other people's children. They also taught me that bad things happen but we are survivors and so we move on. It is how we react and not these things themselves that define who we are.


And Flufficat, Boris and Natasha would like to thank Teddy and Kiki for their Hanukkah gifts. As you can see, the blue fluffy thing was big hit. Of course after one hour, it no longer exists. Because my cats are all gangsta like that.

Luxury

That's what I consider having four days in a row in which I am free to do whatever I please. Now if I can just make it through to Christmas since that will be my next long weekend.

The focus of Thursday was sleep. Lots of sleep. I think with all my naps that I probably slept about a total of 12 hours. Now you may have forgotten but I'm used to getting four to six hours of sleep a night. 12 hours? Just plain crazy.

Friday was about getting out of the house -- on my terms. After I left the zoo, I heard from my mother. She asked, "You had to pay to get into the zoo?" Yeah. Whatever.

Saturday I knew that I would be heading out with Fluffycat. Strange thing is that I awoke in the morning with lots of energy. So much energy that I finally got around to sorting through the boxes of children's books that I have -- still. Hopefully for not longer. And I discovered stuff mixed in the boxes that went straight to the trash. Two boxes full of trash. It felt great.

So great that on Sunday, I decided to conquer more of the crap. Because yes, I moved in April and there are still boxes that I have not unpacked. Nor is there a single thing hanging on the wall. But I don't feel bad about it. Every month when I make the mortgage payment, I know that it is mine.

OK. So maybe the real reason for some of the organizing on Sunday was because I had also done three loads of laundry over the weekend and I thought it might be nice for the first time in months to actually put the stuff away. Because for months, I have been folding the stuff and leaving it in the basket. Until it's empty. Then I start the whole process again. So the laundry is put away and I can walk through my closet without having to worry about tripping over anything.


When I created this blog, I said there would be food and crafts. There's been plenty of food but really no crafts. This weekend I started three knitting projects. (Actually in the last couple of weeks I have completed the good portion of a fourth project as well.) So I present the above to you as proof that there is actually some crafting going on around here.

And the great thing about Sunday is that I told my mother that I could not come to take her to the mall. She needed to return something that she had bought on Saturday. And no, I did not take her to the mall on Saturday; one of her neighbors did. I said no because there were things that I had to take care of for myself, things that no one else was going to do -- like cleaning and knitting. I also figured why ruin a perfectly good weekend. And although she found another way to the mall, I am sure that this is all being recorded on the bad daughter list to be enumerated to me at a later date. Really don't give a flying fuck anymore.

Done with people telling me that if I love them, I will do fill-in-the-blank. Done with the people telling me that I am responsible for someone else's happiness. Tired of being angry because some people just are not reliable. My bad on that one. They are who they are. As such, I'm done with asking them to be there. I am done with the people who only pick up the phone when they need something -- except for coworkers as long as it is work-related. And I really don't care if that doesn't leave a lot of people because I'll just start all over again. This time I'll do it better though.

And so that's what happens when I have the luxury of time for me.

For David

So tonight I was getting my groove on and then a song dropped that made me think of David. Strange because this will always be a song that I associate with summer school in England. In fact I thought of digging out one of the photos from that summer but then I remembered that I had already posted photos from that summer.

And then as the tunes continued, I thought of David -- and perhaps Maddie -- once more. This song dates from when I lived in the Mission District of San Francisco -- at the beginning of the hardcore partygirl days. Because I still kind of miss that person. Especially when I grab something out of the closet since that person was 20 pounds lighter than my current self.

On a happier note

This morning I decided to increase my weight loss goal by five pounds. While my previous goal was a weight with which I could probably live, I wasn't really happy at that weight either. I decided that I should shoot for the new goal after this morning's weigh in. Three weeks, six pounds. I can already feel the difference. And when I went to get my hair done on Saturday, the salon owner told me that she could see it as well.

Another thing. I just realized that Lose It has slowly been lowering my net calories as I have been losing weight. And I've been sticking with it pretty much. So while other things have been sucking, there has been at least one really good thing.

Still here

Yes, I am still alive. No exciting food around here these days. Mostly I've been exploring how to stay on track with my calorie count while dining out. And yes, it can be done.

Last week I beat myself up a few times because I slipped and overindulged. But then I realized that on my "bad" days, I had a net calorie count of 1500-1600 calories. And that was a vast improvement over what I used to consume. So now I'm cutting myself a little slack because at that net calorie amount, I should still lose weight albeit a little slower. And like I said previously, it took me two years to put on the weight so I shouldn't expect it to all melt off over night. It's going to take some time and patience. (And yes, I realize that some of you who know me want to slap me at this point because on the BMI, I am at the low end of "normal" currently. I'm just not comfortable here.)

There will be some new content soon though because I've been getting crafty over the last couple of weeks. That's right. I once more have knitting needles in hand -- something I haven't done in some time -- and have all kinds of projects in the works. So stay tuned.

Fall back

I was thrilled beyond belief to step on the scale yesterday morning to discover that I had lost three pounds. Of course, then my mind started racing. Could it be still possible? Could I drop easily as long as I was focused like in those days of yore? We'll see. In the meantime, I thought I'd like to give thanks to the folks who made those three pounds possible -- the folks to whom I listened while walking or while dancing around in my living room. The cats really love the latter -- especially when I tell Boris that I could work in some weights by holding him while I'm dancing.

This is Jade's theme song. And while I was walking last Friday, I finally understood why. I was starting to drag until this came on my iPod playlist. Suddenly there was a little more pep in my step.

Lose It likes to differentiate between dancing and aerobic dancing. My mindset is that if you have an accelerated heart rate and your breathing is a little quicker, then it counts as aerobic.

I was feeling pretty good during this song. And near the end when Too $hort takes the lead, I found myself thinking, "Well hell. I've been down around 67th and Foothill. I used to work in the area when area when I was teaching. And I had no fear when I worked in the area." Too $hort was probably the first person to pronounce the word "bitch" as "beyotch." That's some straight out Oakland stuff.


And then the Republica kicked in. It was on then. Even if I was at the 20 minute or so mark.


How do you wrap this up? With the song that I think should be the official song for the state of California. I really don't understand why it's not already. And I mean that whole, "Shake shake it baby," section? If that doesn't get you all aerobic, then I don't know what will. The only improvement they could make is to mention Richmond. Richmond's a hell of lot tougher than Oakland. (Ignore last year's stats on the most dangerous cities in the U.S.) People in Oakland are afraid of folks from Richmond. Really. Well folks who look like me from Richmond that is. And who are willing to say things like, "Bitch please."

And wish me luck in maintaining my sanity over these next few days. My mother had her surgery today. That means that she will be needier than even. Fucking shame my well is dry. Dry to the point that I had a mini-meltdown at work on Monday. The reason why I said that I can't do whining people is because of this. I'm treading water here and whining people will just drag me down.

Committed

The first week of calorie watching had some mixed results. Yes, I lost at least one pound -- quite possibly two -- but by Friday I was feeling rather beat up. I had been aiming for net calories of 1380 per day. And had failed every day.

Lunch has been one of my biggest challenges. The food choices near my office are less than desirable -- that is if one is trying to lose weight. I realized that means that I once more should be bringing lunch from home. But I had few options in the fridge to do this. And so by Thursday, I found myself skipping meals just to bring my calorie count down. Yeah, me the person who extols the necessity of having three meals a day.

Fortunately I had a good night's sleep Saturday night and decided to come at it all again. Because it suddenly clicked that while red meat is mostly a no-no these days, fish and shellfish were perfectly acceptable. And do you know how happy that made me? Suddenly I had endless ideas and so after my hair appointment, I headed to the store for a few items.

Saturday for lunch I had a lovely Shrimp Louie. And dinner was asparagus with lobster tail. And you know what? I didn't go over my net calories for the day. (I also burned some calories by doing some much needed housework.) For the last 24 hours I have been busy plugging recipes into Lose It to see if the calories per serving are within my guidelines. And most of them were. So most of my meat choices will be seafood with occasional chicken or turkey. (Hello. Thanksgiving.)

This has been really important because I also realize that it's going to take me about three months to lose the amount of weight I'd ideally like to. To last for that many months means that the food cannot be boring. And so now I think I really can make the commitment to finally lose the weight. And three months? Not so bad considering it took me about 2-3 years to put it on.

Now I'm off to the farmer's market. I have shopping to do so that I can start restocking the freezer with all kinds of yumminess.