The Zumba Queen

I made it to the Y today! Yes I did! But first, I ran. 3.38 miles with a mile walk to cool down. I only had about 45 minutes for weight lifting, so I did the best I could. It didnt make me feel awesome like it ususally does. It made me sore and tired. A clear indication that I am losing fitness :( That makes me feel bad.

Food today was good. I hit about 2000 calories. All eaten only when hungry (with the exception of yogurt and a mini Luna bar I ate in the breakroom. I was not hungry when I went in there - but all of the smells made me want to eat. So I caved.) and in a very controlled manner.

Breakfast: Oatmeal with pumpkin butter, banana, brown sugar, and peanut butter (I really missed having the pumpkin stirred in, so I am opening a new can tomorrow morning!)

Snack: mini lara bar and a honey crisp apple

Lunch: Spinach, strawberry, and sesame tofu salad with quinoa; kashi crackers and pumpkin soup

Snack: Pumpkin Pie yogurt with 1/4 c Kashi Go Lean cereal; mini luna bar

Dinner: small tossed salad with olives and garlic; Spinach and mushroom lasagna; 1 Lake Champlain chocolate (60 calories)

Snack: Chocolate covered pretzel from Whole Foods Market

Snack: 1 Whole wheat english muffin with peanut butter, pumpkin butter and half a banana; herbal tea with agave.

Not too bad.

While at the Y this morning, I met the Zumba queen, Allie. Apparently she has been teaching at the Y for about a year, but I had never met her. I heard her talking to some women in the locker room about her 40lb weight loss and when one of them saw me they asked me to join in their conversation. I talked to Allie afterwards about size and weight gain and she really made a difference in the way I felt today. She reminded me sometimes when things get crazy you have to loosen the reigns a little bit and just live. Then when things calm down, you get back at it. I have not been exercising. But I have been eating the same amount. The result is a 2-3 lb weight gain. I know what I need to do to get it off. And I will. Balance.

Goodnight!

I suck

I admit it. I suck. I really, really do. The only exercise I got today was climbing up and down a ladder while staining my dollhouse. And then I went to work. Food was OK up until sometime this evening when I started eating the hard candies I brought to work. It progressed to eating 6 pretzels of unknown origin in the breakroom and then 2 peppermint lifesavers I found at the cashwrap.

When I got home I made an english muffin and loaded it with Maple butter and then proceeded to lick out what was left in the jar. Add to that two good handfuls of granola and you have one fucked up former fat person. WTF is wrong with me? I am starting to scare myself.

This cannot happen. Really, it cant. I cannot gain weight. It's that simple. So what the fuck is my problem?

I called the realtor today. Apparently the buyers have been pre-approved for a different type of financing and I now have to wait a week for an actual loan commitment letter. So financing is not guaranteed for them. I am kind of worried about this. They have a key to the house and they have been doing work there. I am not sure what has been done or what kind of condition the place is in right now. What if they dont get financing? Then what? I am pretty sure they are just going to leave the house however if they dont get financing. Right? Wouldnt you?

Ugh. I hate being stressed out over this but its hard not to be.

Ok. Tomorrow I have a long day at work. I am packed for the gym and I will be going. I have to fucking do better. Really. It cannot be an option. It has to be non-negotiable.

Night.

Good Morning

I think my attitude has improved some what from yesterday. I ate well yesterday. Hit about 1500 calories. But no exercise again. I am really sucking in the fitness department. I am going to try to get to the gym today. I dont have any excuses other than being lazy.

Off to make oatmeal! Be back a little later!

Happy Birthday Layla-J!

Today my youngest is 6. Born at night "in the cold November Rain," Layla was my redeeming VBAC (vaginal birth after cesaerean).

Prepared to die. Prepared to let my baby die. I found a doctor that would accept me with all of my "issues" and attend a VBAC after a botched c-section that left me with an 85% chance of uterine rupture (due to a fundal incision that had been closed wrong). Dr. Carol Ward, a hard ass with the heart of a midwife, will always hold a spacial place in my heart.

Layla-J was born at 10pm exactly after a pitocin induced hell with no pain relief (both pitocin and pain medications are contraindicated during a VBAC. However, the doctor felt the benefits of inducing labor because of high blood pressure outweighed the risk of rupture and she stayed with me during the entire 14hour labor monitoring the dosage.)

Layla Jagger-Rain is named after the Eric Clapton song "Layla"; Mick Jagger; and the Guns N Roses Song "November Rain." The name Layla means born at night and she was, indeed, was born at night "in the cold November Rain."

Layla-J is a goofy little girl with a wild imagination, an unusual vocabulary, and a lot of talent. She loves Tom and Jerry, little figurines, and toast :)

Happy Birthday blondie!

L.O.S.E.R

That is what I feel like right now. I am kinda down tonight. Today hasnt been the most productive or the most fun.

I have been so happy the last few days, and then today - not so much. And the Ebay woes are just adding to my angst.

I'll dig out of this. I will. But I hate it when I get like this.

Night (again)

Update

I have not been exercising or adding up calories for the last few days, but my weight is still stable. I am as done as I am going to be with the room for now. The dollhouse obviously isnt finished, but it has been stressing me out, so I just need to leave it for a while. I am having some issues with stupid Ebay right now and I feel a headache coming on. I am going to go EAT an english muffin with maple butter on it to calm myself (old habits die HARD). I like the money, but damn it, I hate the shit that goes along with it.

I recorded a video tour of the room today, but it is 11 minutes long and it has to be under 10 to upload. Oh well, I will have to try again another time :) Here are some pictures:

Beloved childhood Raggedy Ann.

Restored yardsale night table.

Top of yardsale dresser. I am having a mirror made for it.

The large doll is an artist doll from Federica. Her name is Mosa. She is Native American.

More of the restored yardsale dresser (I need a wide angle lens!)

Craigslist desk that I restored.

Top of bookcase.

Bottom of bookcase.

Rose (she is a My Twinn doll)

The (unfinished) Dollhouse.

A 1980s Special Olympics Edition Maxwell House Coffee Jar full of prizes from bubblegum machines. I have been collecting these my whole life :) Many of the trinkets in here are 30 years old or older :D


I am going to go eat my English muffin now and sulk about my Ebay woes.

Goodnight.

A Different Kind of Free

I am sure at this point most of you that have been reading for a while know that I really like *STUFF*. I am a lifelong doll and toy collector and have been toting around a lot of *stuff* my entire life. My bedrooms, living spaces, houses - they have all be packed to capacity. There is no such thing as "wide open space" where I dwell. It has been that way - all my life. I like stuff.

I have tried again and again to simplify. I can't do it. I purge the collections from time to time and clean out duplicates. I might even sell off an entire collection because I think I am tired of it. Years later I might rebuild it again. It's just the way it is.

I feel a very deep emotional attachment to my collection. Many of the dolls, stuffed animals and other things "talk" to me and I talk back. I see things in their eyes and sometimes wonder where they have been or what they have done. I refuse to believe or accept that they are "just" plastic and stuffing. They are more than that. To me.

I love the story of the Velveteen Rabbit and keep an old copy with me wherever I go. I do believe that if you love a toy long enough it will become Real. My Raggedy Ann is a good example of that story. She's Real.

Many of the things I unpacked and crammed into my tight little space I havent seen in more than 15 years. They have been carefully packed and hidden away to protect them. When I lived at home as a teenager, I had much of it displayed. It was safe. No one would hurt it or try to take it.

When I moved out at 20 into my own house I had SOOOOOOOOO much more space to display my *stuff* in and I had what I considered a beautiful place. I had 5 dogs though and they did a number on a few of my favorite things, including ripping the face off of a 36" vintage Raggedy Ann and eating the perfect celluloid hand off of my beloved Bye-Lo Baby. But for the most part, the *stuff* was safe there, too.

And then at 24, I got married. And the person I married was very destructive. He didnt care about *stuff.* In fact, he didnt have ANY. He moved in with a garbage bag half filled with his clothing, and that was it. The beautiful set of Chantal cookware I had bought to last a lifetime - he scratched up; used in the bathtub (dont ask); used for animal dishes; and smashed. The blown glass lemonade set I loved - he smashed all but one glass. Gardening tools from Crate and Barrel that said "Lifetime Guarantee" - he used them to hammer in nails and broke all but one. The cottage swing hanging on my porch - that even *I* wouldnt sit in for fear of it breaking - he sat his 400 pound ass in it and smashed it all to hell. He just didnt care about or respect ANYTHING.

And it gets even better than all of that. I had a lot of antique jewelery that I got from an old woman my Nana used to care for. And I mean A LOT. I also had a solid silver baby cup that my Grandma bought when I was born. And some solid silver and antique coins. One day, it was all missing. Eric had sold it. All. For the money. Money? Fucking money? My heart still bleeds over that.

When he moved in with me I had a lot of artwork, photographs and autographs hanging on my walls. Lots of photography proofs and rock memorobelia throughout the house. Cool stuff like autographed drum heads and sticks; fistfuls of signature guitar picks; personalized artwork from some BIG names; and a handwritten prayer book from my favorite artist with a personalization to me. Eric was VERY jealous and insisted that all of the photos be taken down. He didnt want pictures of other men hanging up in the bedroom. And then he wanted the stuff throughout the house taken down, too. He threw out all of my proofs (I kept the negatives hidden); gave away or sold many of my autographed pictures; and the motherfucker arranged for the sale of both sets of my Kiss dolls (one set autographed). ::::sigh::::

My Nightmare Before Christmas and Chatty Cathy Collections went because of him, too. But that was because he had spent too much of MY money (he didnt work at the time) and I needed to make a mortgage payment.

I started having babies a year after and stuff had to be packed away for safety reasons and to make room. Babies can break things, too - but at least they dont mean it. But kids, they can be destructive. On purpose. Just like their father. More stuff was packed away and hidden. I even got a son that will steal things or smash them for fun or to hurt you or get back at you. Just like his father.

So for a very long time, I had most of my stuff packed carefully and hidden, heavily guarded in the back of a closet. There were things on display in my bedroom, but it was always a gamble as to wether or not they would be there from day to day.

So here I am. In a room, free of the dogs (I am getting on in the spring!), Eric, and for the most part, the kids :) An entire 14X14 foot space that is just mine. Anything I put in here is "safe." I have unpacked and framed original drawings and personalized autographs from Shel Silverstein, Marc Brown and Maya Angelou. I've got the prayer book written by Chris Robinson (of the Black Crowes) and artwork done by him and his brother. I have found a small stack of proofs from some of their shows and some vintage scrapbooks I made for them. I found a few things from Kiss, AC/DC, Aerosmith and the Rolling Stones that escaped Eric's clean out.

The small box of trolls, kiddles and flatsys that escaped Eric's big sale. The lot of 1960s Barbies that is still here. My Dawn Dolls, Steiff Bears (he did get two of those) and artist doll (that I guarded with my life). They are all here, surrounding me. And they are safe. For the first time in a lot of years I guess I can relax. No one is going to destroy them. No one is going to take them.

It's a different kind of free.