Jenny: "Should we do the ones against the neighbor's wall first?"
Jenea: "Why?"
Jenny: "They have a baby. What time do babies go to bed?"
Jenea: "Well, the important thing is the noise ordinance is 10pm, so they can fuckin' suck it."
Holy cow. One item into today's to-do list and I've already got 80% of today's steps in, according to my pedometer. Of course, that was a TWO HOUR WALK.
Jody texted me at 8, asking if I wanted to walk the hill. That has been on my list for weeks now, and it kept getting dusted with snow. Her son is only one, so it's a long walk for him to cut the corner of the hill, but short for us. I tried to take both her dogs with me to finish the loop, but Lucy ran after Jody the moment she figured out that Mom was headed in another direction. Snoopy was game, though, so the three of us finished the hill, then took Snoopy home. Now we're home and exhausted, and I'm restrategizing my afternoon. I gave Riley a little food, after which will come a nap, and I'm considering the same plan. There are chores to do to and errands to run, but currently I am zapped. Who the hell said that exercise in the morning was energizing? Sheesh.
Eight years after leaving the paper route, I am finally down the the last two bags. No longer will my action figure come with two bright yellow poop bags hanging from my back pocket- I will have to repurpose grocery bags that will be all bulky in my pockets and not nearly so easy to locate. No longer will they hang neatly from a plastic holder on a hanger in my hall closet- instead it will be a messy overstuffed bag. Goodbye, lovely yellow poop bags. We will miss you.
Something compelled me to rent The Color of Money, but as it turns out, I could have just watched that Eric Clapton video for "It's In the Way That You Use It."
Maybe I could have done that goldfish puzzle with some great lighting, undisturbed on one of my eleven tables, but instead I made steady progress whenever I felt like it over the course of three evenings, during phone calls or Frasier episodes.
I talked to my coach tonight for this VA program. We're covering a lot of topics and sometimes I wonder if it's doing any good. I don't feel like I'm getting anywhere because I am so constantly up and down. My motivation and mood depends on the hour. Sometimes our talks find me down and pessimistic; sometimes I am cheerful.
Tonight I was telling him how I had been drawn to comfort food, but making myself eat veggies with it. It's not the plate method that they teach, but at least it's something. "This is the point," he said. "We're trying to find something that works for you." If lists work, great. If schedules don't, ok. If I can't stop the imaginary confrontations with deep breathing, but I can with sensory distractions, that's awesome.
He chuckled at my discovery of bagels and cream cheese and suggested trying to make those choices as healthy as possible: whole wheat bagels, low fat cream cheese. I said I thought I could apply this elsewhere: trying to envision a confrontation in which I can be less angry, or maybe while cleaning up I don't break out the crevice tool, but just run the vacuum. Maybe it's not perfect or what I intended, but it will work, and it will feel much better than no progress at all, and the crucial part of this is to make sure I am moving forward. So off to the thrift store with you, fish puzzle.
My smart, wonderful dog now ONLY uses the ottoman to get on or off my bed. I am so proud! I don't worry about her doing a face plant in the middle of the night or not quite making the jump, sliding off, and hurting herself.
And we play the cookie game nightly, which I find endlessly endearing and entertaining. And alliterative. Maybe I should have gone with always adorable and amusing. I've started incorporating some of the dog training and Miss Riley is happy to oblige for the potential of more cookies. The potential- not even the reward- is some powerful motivation.
Which makes me think about my own motivation. I need those lists. I decided to get to work early and thought about what I needed to do to make that happen and wrote my list. I didn't get everything done tonight that I had on my list, but there isn't much I love more than writing out a new list! Besides, I got a lot done that would not have happened otherwise. I've been thinking about those eleven tables and spending a little time on different projects, which sounds manic, but short bursts and a timer keep me working hard.
Let's see how tomorrow works out.
See, sometimes you have to just find a more attainable goal.
I've been belly laughing over here at Frasier and now I'm cracking up over my last blog post. My neighbors must be thinking I'm even crazier than they thought, because I don't have the tv on anymore- just cackling by myself in silence. It's probably a bad thing to laugh that hard at your own jokes.
Second dog training class and our instructor is on her honeymoon, so the main instructor is temporarily taking over. She came around to meet the dogs and kind of wilted at Riley. "Awww, you're adorable!" Well, look at her. She is adorable.
So Jenea invited me out last night to a casino/truck stop where she can drink cheaply. Casinos have managed to avoid the no smoking laws, and I could feel my first breath drag as I walked in the door. The next thing I saw was a guy on oxygen. Was he a smoker or has he just spent too many nights in casinos?
The bars were full, so we ate at the cafe first, then found two seats together at the bar with her favorite bartender, which was good, because no chair was empty all night. Last night was one of their big drawings. Locals are their bread and butter, so they announce the date of these drawings and if you don't make it to the announcer in two minutes after they call your name, you don't get the money. Keeps your ass on the casino floor.
Jenea always looks nice, even if we're going thrift store shopping, and she always dresses up to go out. When we were walking through the casino, some guy moved in front of her twice, trying to talk to her. She didn't even acknowledge him and we just walked past. When we sat down, I told her that I find it really unsettling when a guy a guy tries for a girl that is clearly out of his age range.
"Well, I'm dressed like a whore," Jenea explained.
I died.
Anyway, we had fun and made plans for some other fun things to do. I sang my way home until I got to the gate and realized that the place for my gate pass is probably not hanging on my key rack. I sat there looking at the buttons until someone turned in the driveway behind me and just drove in through the exit. Aha.
And then we get to today.
Woke up at six, because I'm trained now.
Went to pee, stepped in cat vomit. Cleaned up, went back to bed.
Woke up two hours later, didn't actually want to get up, so I laid in bed reading Facebook posts. Saw someone posted a picture of snow, looked outside. Immediately started getting a migraine.
Staggered into the kitchen, drank water and began a fruitless search for Tylenol.
Grabbed last night's clothes, plus my coat, which all reeked of smoke, carried them downstairs, head throbbing, found that someone was already doing laundry. Stepped on the jeans and coat sleeve on the way back upstairs, could not stop stepping on clothes, struggled upstairs.
Made biker breakfast, potatoes were mushy. Started to feel very sad.
Tried to figure out if two beers with food would really make me feel this bad. Realized it's probably the 3-4 hours in the casino smoke. Decided I can never feel like this again, may never see the inside of Western Village again.
Thought perhaps the snow would melt enough to walk the hill as planned, found that it was far too freezing outside without my warm coat. Smelled it to see if I could wear it, gagged.
Took the trash out on the way to walk Riley, found that some asshole smashed a beer glass behind my car, found one huge chunk of glass directly behind my tire. Wondered if I am extremely unpopular. Walked Riley, went back inside for broom and dustpan, and swept up the glass from a 15 foot diameter in the freezing wind, could not locate my hat.
Diet Coke break. Drove to Big Lots, looked at sad calendar options, bought Chicken Soup for the Soul instead of Yoga Cats.
Drove to Walmart, where I wept for humanity, then bought glucose tabs, grape tomatoes, and a Sunday paper.
Went home, did laundry, started preparation to bake rolls. And of course, homemade fresh baked rolls are heaven, but they are a lot of work. I started at 4 and immediately noticed that I could not knead in as much flour as usual. The dough did not rise much and I kept working through, hoping it would work out in the end. Of course, this is baking, not a movie, so it did not resolve itself and I just spend several hours wasting ingredients. Well, they are fresh baked, and they homemade. Hockey pucks, anyone?
I give up. Time for Frasier, leftovers, a bath, and bed. Maybe tomorrow will be a good day, because the Universe clearly thinks today is Monday.
