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Monday, November 30, 2015


Can we talk? Sometimes I look around at my life and I don't see much. I've been through my share of joy and heartbreak. Haven't we all? But the Holiday Season always makes me ponder where I am and where I'm going. So here it is. I am stuck. By my own behavior. I write in a journal and I found some pages from 2007. They are roughly comparable to those I write today. And I'm the first to acknowledge that I'm to blame for the lack of change. Lazy? Maybe! But I really don't want to own up to that. I am at least a champion procrastinator. And there are a couple of more things to figure out. I can't choose things like paint colors etc because I'm afraid to make a mistake. Like it would be life threatening to choose a paint color that doesn't work. And I want to get back to some of the creative things I used to do. What to do first? Damned if I know. That requires a choice. And then there is the difficulty of focus on a task. I don't do it well. I lose interest easily and often leave things half done. That of course stares back at me demanding that I do something but it is so easy to procrastinate. I've read that making lists helps. But one can procrastinate that too. So while I whirl around trying to light on something, I'm just going to try and enjoy the lights, music, and feeling of the season and forgive myself for being uh ..........whatever.

Friday, November 27, 2015

Post Post

I wanted to be a hippie. Never had the nerve. I wanted to be a dog person. I pulled that one off. Above you see Cheyenne. She was the size of her head when she came to us and now she's a big girl. Please pardon the red eye. Anyway, I had a Thanksgiving time to remember the past. As always I remember the times when the family was together and we had the big dinner, etc. Now I'm in another life. But I am thankful. I am still a peace freak. I still believe love and peace are the most important things ever. And I still love to be around my dogs. They are ever a joy. After a quiet Thanksgiving I find myself very grateful.

Wednesday, July 29, 2015


It's hard to know when I'm making a mistake. I see things one way and I'm happy with my perception. But he sees them another. I remember growing up that I never knew what would make my mother angry. It just seemed to come out of the blue. And my sense of unfairness at the situation always made my angry and hurt. After all, how does one know when they are making an error in judgement if not told that the behavior is not good. I used to come home from school every day with a feeling of dread because I never knew what to expect when I got home. Lately it's been happening again. Or at least it feels the same.

Have I changed or has he? Or is this just a fluke? I am often second guessing myself because of the increase in age. Do I still have any judgement? Is my brain working? Am I just prone to make mistakes in thinking? When you grow up with a situation like mine it's hard not to second guess every move, thought, or belief. One thing I am sure of, if there is a period of general calm and good feelings, it will end. With a bang, often. And not to sound paranoid, I think I'm just not meant to have peace. I don't think I actively seek out drama. But the choices I've made seem to lead me there. I have needed to put thought into the outcomes of my actions and even then I make wrong decisions.

What you are hearing from me now is a really bad case of depression. I'm scared of what the future might hold if some things don't get resolved. I was told many years ago by my therapist that I have abandonment depression. And that means an irrational fear of being left alone. Of a lack of acceptance, and of not being good enough. I've worked really hard over the last 25 years since the divorce and I thought I had a handle on the crappy self esteem. But then here it is. I can't call it the black dog because I have a black dog. It is, for me, more of a black fog. Dense, with no light shining through. And above all else, it is painful. It really hurts, physically. I want to shrink, to hide, and to never again see the light of day. I'm so tired.

Friday, July 17, 2015

It's a blue funk. It's depression. It's sadness squared. It's frustration. It's all of these and more. I turned 70 on the 7th of July. Is this the reason for the feelings? No, I don't think so. So far, 70 is a lot like being 69. I'm just going to have to place the blame elsewhere. Like the fact that I had set up in my mind that I wanted to lose a certain amount of weight by 70. Didn't. And I wanted to be organized by 70. Still not. And I wanted to have my goals somewhat accomplished by 70 and still no. It's as if I set myself up for failure. Yep, that's what it is. New goal-----try not to set up goals that I am not going to do well on. It's time to search for smaller goals that I can accomplish, like maybe daily ones.

AS far as the weight loss thing, the surgery only takes you so far. A great jump start. If you go into the surgery thinking you'll never have to diet again, you might as well not get cut. I found quickly that I can eat every hour. Just not so much at a time. And I found that I still have a taste for carbs and that hasn't lessened at all. Nor have the excuses I give myself for the poor eating. I'm really good at lying to myself. And I found that being organized is a huge deal. (check paragraph one). In short, I haven't been good at changing anything but the size of my stomach. And someone else did that for me.

I have a few things to recommend in spite of the lack of organization. I have joined I am pleased to say that I have been able to cut my book spending by a lot. I have two Kindles and they are both full of books to read. I'm trying to keep my mind busy instead of eating. Bookbub offers an array of books by email every day for the kindle or other reading ap. And the books go from free to about 1.99. You choose your genres and get several offers. All of course from amazon. It is a great way to get reading matter without filling up the house with things that will eventually hit a land fill.

I have something to say about my mental state. Yes I do depression, and I do it well. Part of my problem may be a form of ADD. I've never been diagnosed and I'm not going to try now. But I'm easily distracted, have trouble sitting still and even reading a super book for over 30 minutes without getting up to do something. It is a pain in the ________. I've been reading about mindful living, mindful eating, mindful loving. I spent the whole of my younger life doing a lot of avoiding, reacting, afraid of what's coming, and not being proactive about much of anything. My children suffered. And now that I realize what mindful living is, I'm trying to be more engaged in life in every way. I have a mile long list of shouldn'ts, can'ts, don'ts, and the guilt that goes along with not doing things right. I remember going to a school function dressed all wrong and wondering why I didn't know the right way to do things. I was disconnected from life. Bouncing along on my lonely road by myself. I had no idea how to find things out. I'm doing better now. And I'm happier now. It all seems to boil down to the self-confidence needed to carry off life. I'm working on it, mindfully as possible.

Thursday, April 30, 2015


I've been unable to write much because of another struggle to overcome depression. And I don't want to write a depressing post. But I'm going to be truthful. I take meds for depression. And I eat for depression. And I sit for depression. And after the surgery and the subsequent weight loss I'm stuck, partly because of depression. It' an insidious enemy that drains energy and sometimes makes me quite the bitch. It makes me easy to upset, to anger, and to put my problems onto others when they are distinctly mine. But, and this is a big one, I've discovered another problem that can be fixed. I've been taking a fair amount of over the counter sleep agents. And I do sleep at night. But.... When I wake up I drag my tired rear downstairs and pop a Monster energy drink to wake up. Amazingly enough I then drink a cup of coffee and go back upstairs for a nap. So I think the things I'm putting into my body are part of the depressed/tired state I find myself in. So I'm going to give it a shot to wean from using sleep aids and Monster. I'm hoping the next few days will go by quickly so I can get used to natural rhythms of sleeping and rising.

One other thing I've been learning about and I'm working on is how to best handle stress. I'm not sure I know what it's like not to be stressed. I think I'm prone to guilt about just about everything I don't do perfectly(which is just about everything) and that adds to my stress. Since I discovered blogging and the posts of others I've been prone to compare myself to them. And failing to live up to their beauty/organization/creativity. But that is something I've been doing all my life. It's a behavior that was begun in my childhood and continued in my marriage, encouraged by my mother and my spouse. I was divorced 26 years ago. My mother died 27 years ago. I don't know why I'm still doing this. I'm definitely not awful in looks, housekeeping, creating. So I need to stop putting myself down. I just wish I knew how. I even berate myself for caring too much about myself and my feelings(selfish). So this is why I've been hiding from the world. I  had hoped to be able to relax in my old age. Still hoping.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

What is this world coming to?

Elvis burst on the scene with jumpy music and a wiggle and managed to offend a ton of parents of teens. My mom thought he was awesome so I had no problem listening to his music. From there the papers and to a lesser extent the TV went on and on about rock and roll contributing to the delinquency of minors. Soon there was wild dancing. Close dancing. Smoking things. The Beatles and their long hair. A few more overwhelming drugs. Free sex and love. Everything was disparaged as soon as it appeared. But there was always more to come. Abuse of humans and animals. Guns in every pickup truck. Prejudice against every little thing. The media has had a field day introducing every new pestilence for the last 60+ years.

During all those years, things were going on behind closed doors that the greater population didn't know about. Fathers hit wives in front of the kids. Kids were assaulted by family members. And by neighbors, teachers, etc. And soon by each other. We sort of knew it happened but of course not to someone we knew. And God forbid we should talk about it. I have no statistics on if and when it became a public matter. Meanwhile our morality has been on the line. By morality, I'm not speaking of consensual sex. The media became our new measurement about those things. Dramas about abuse are everywhere in the media. On TV and in the movies we can see sex and violence of all sorts and even see it glorified. It should make us angry, very angry. It should.

Wednesday, January 14, 2015


Today has been a dreary day so far. I got my oil changed in the middle of a cloud. Mist, cloud, wet, damp, cold air. And allergies. I have them all year. But sometimes the winter ones really get to me. This week on the weather forecast, out of 8 days, 2 are forecast to be sunny. And I don't know how those who live in Washington state can stand it. I think I would go nuts without the sun. I lived in Florida and hated that the sun was out every day. Now I hate that it is hidden all the time. I guess I just can't be satisfied. Anyway, an attack on allergies is in order. I keep seeing so called cures for the allergic reactions- or symptoms. I'm just working my way through the offerings at the drugstore. I haven't tried the liquor store yet. There are things that help with congestion. Sometimes they help. But I wonder, if the congestion isn't coming out my nose or going down my throat, where is it? Will I wake up one morning with a brain drowning in slime? And would I know the difference?

That is just one of the fun aspects of winter weather. I can truthfully say the Tennessee is better than Illinois, New Jersey, Michigan, New York, etc. I haven't had to dig myself out of drifted snow in a long time. I love looking at the world when the snow is coming down and hasn't been run over by vehicles, footsteps, and snowplows. It's so beautiful. And so quiet. And so deadly for some. But it is not dreary.
I picture the beautiful scenes of horse drawn sleighs going over the river and through the woods. But reality is more like SUVs sliding down the hill into other SUVs and mailboxes. It includes horsepower not being enough to get somewhere. Maybe in some instances dreary is better.

One other thing that I must address about dreary is the lack of color. I think my largest complaint about dreary weather and lack of sun is that there is so much gray. The color of the roads should be anything but gray. Green would be nice. And I'm also trying to make my home into an antidote for the drears. I think that the lack of light is helpful to me. So I turn on extra lights. And the honey comes home from work and turns them off to save money. So I turn them back on and dare him to touch them. I think the drear is something that makes people want to decorate a lot more for Christmas. How did we live with just a Christmas tree with lights on it. Lets put red everywhere in the house. In every room, on every surface. There, that takes care of the drear. But then there is January. It is time. Time to come up with an excuse to decorate with color and lights for the winter months. Let's get our thinking caps on.

Sunday, January 11, 2015

There are times when

 I need a pick-me-up. My mood during the holiday season was not good. I miss so much. The days I cooked for family Christmas dinner. The days that I was with my children. The watching the kids open gifts and grinning all morning. The decorating. The anticipation. I loved it. Tiring sometimes. But always joyful. The I got older and it all changed. Children gone. Mom died. Marriage ended. My Dad had died many years before. But I had my ex's family. And I still loved it when I look back.

I lost my Dad in Oct. and my Mom in Nov, right after Thanksgiving. I lost my kids due to some poor decisions and the divorce. I blame myself for some of the losses. But there is something else that haunts me. I didn't know to do this and I want everyone to consider doing it. I didn't ask questions of my parents. I didn't know them as people but as parents. There have been so many questions that have come up and might be helpful to me now in dealing with my gray holiday mood. So for those of you who still have your families. Ask questions. Find out about the holiday traditions your parents had growing up. Learn what they liked before they became parents. And most of all, no matter how badly they screwed up as parents, love them. And let them know.

Tuesday, January 6, 2015


I am a mother, daughter, girlfriend, grandmother, woman, college graduate, dog mom. I am female, older, wiser, heavier, more creative, nicer, kinder, more loving, smarter, and more interesting than I was at 20.

Those are labels. They are used to describe. But labels are also used to limit. Labels tell you what size a garment is, what's in food, what kind of book or movie you are seeing, what your style is, what street you have a home on, what kind of car you drive, etc. You can be a fashionista, bohemian, old fashioned, avant garde, a Barbie wannabe, chic, wealthy, poor, skinny, heavy, white or other. And you've been labelled. Some labels do limit. And there are limits to some labels. It would be difficult for a black person to be anything other than a black person, and so for Asian, American Indian, Arab, etc. There are very few people who would fit into a box with just one label. There are beautiful people in all areas of colors. There are old fashioned Asians, etc. So the trick is to acknowledge the labels you fit with and to either work with them or work to change them. For instance, I am an older, heavy, white, educated, fashion-loving, creative, kind, giving American. I'll take those labels and be satisfied. That is, until one of them starts to make me feel limited. And then, all bets are off.

Saturday, January 3, 2015

Never let it be said

I absolutely love the pants in this photo. Maybe I'm learning to pick and choose better. I like the white shirt. The red clutch is definitely not something I'd do and the shoes are OK. But the uniform becomes even more of a uniform because of the pose. I'm not so fond of the pigeon toed poses I've seen.

Granted, when I was young, standing that way meant you really were pigeon toed or you needed orthopedic shoes. So it has a bad connotation for me. Just as this isn't my favorite pose, I'd love it if someone would tell me what is. I look at the women on the pinterest photos and at the women in the magazines and I see all sorts of poses. I'm particularly fond of those that seem unposed. As in street photos. Walking with firm large steps and long skinny legs, going somewhere interesting. But you can put me in front of a camera and my body suddenly becomes a bunch of sticks held together by a weak, droopy rubber band. My tendency is to lean against something and hope that this something is interesting in the photo. Then there is the problem of what to do with my hands. 
Some of the women solve the problem by posing with a clutch. But I don't even own a clutch. To me, they are a pain in the neck because they don't hold a lot and have no shoulder strap. I'm not the type to pose with a bag just to have one. Nothing in it. And I have seen that done.

This brings me to the reason for taking photos and for posing. And I just don't understand some things about it. For instance, 17 pics of the same outfit, the same direction, seems like overkill to me. I'd actually only take photos enough to see what the outfit looks like and then I'd let it go. And yes, I have seen 17 pics of the same outfit on the same blog in one day. Added to comments about why this is a super outfit, I begin to wonder who the blog is written for. I can truthfully say that my blogs(I have 3) are for me to check out myself, to share my opinions, sometimes to share funny things, and to bitch. So you see I am doing well in that area.

Never let it be said that I don't give equal time to folks my age. While the young seem to want to follow patterns, fit in, dress to entice, etc, those in my age group are following some different stars. There is a major blog about 
women of a more mature age that says it all. Fashion is not style. If I am trying to get with the uniform program, I may be in fashion and sometimes I may be in style. But usually, I'm not me. To me style is fashion spoken my language.