Mary and Bob’s Journal

The New Lily

WordPress, I’m going out on you. I’ve got another  flame. You know him: Facebook.

FB has been dominating my life these days.  Ultimately, I think it will benefit my blogging because I can leave the random short observations to FB, and attempt actual writing here. Is that like saying I’ll only use “the other man” for quickies, and promise to save the real love making for my spouse? If so, WordPress, you are my spouse. Okay, I agree: BAD METAPHOR. Don’t blame me, I can barely keep my head above water . . . this post was nearly “Ruth is enjoying cleaning the bathtub with her new battery powered sonic scrubber.” Period. End of post. ‘Cause that’s all FB wants of me.

Oh, except there’s the cat. The animated FB cat. Andy’s bothered because I’ve named her Lily. Confession: I spend more time grooming my animated cat than I do my real Lily. But before you point the finger at me, think of all the neglected human kids out there. Momma’s gonna need an intervention.

Mary, Bob, the world sure is different these days.

Where’s Ruth? Why isn’t she blogging?  It’s my new addiction . . . yeah, I know, I already mentioned it before . . . FACEBOOK!  

Tonight I reconnected with an old friend who’s out east now. She’s opened a really wonderful pet clinic.  If you’re in Georgia, and your kitties need care, take them here: the Cat Clinic of North Georgia. 

She gave me permission to post this awesome photo. . . Thanks, L!

Oh Hai! If you’re so inclined, go here to stop Petland!

The “crack” in my comment box says it’s time for an update. How many miles have I walked since January 5th? How many pounds have I lost? I great do I feel? After all, I only have until February 28th to lose 7 pounds. But it’s about more than a date and a measurement. It’s about rekindling habits that will save my life & make that life more enjoyable.   

I’m sooo grateful to Kitty for checking in on me. Have you read Kitty’s fabulous blog?  We became linked when we noticed that we both “dress alike” — that is to say, we both have the same “wallpaper”.  So when you visit her, don’t think you’re stuck on my page.  Anyway – Kitty’s got a ton of readers. A ton. And she’s offered to “crack the whip” on anyone willing to join her fitness band wagon. So generous of her. (I’m not being sarcastic. People often think I’m being dry when I’m actually making a sincere observation.) 

So Kitty checked in on me today. And that means it’s update time.  The truth is, I’ve been running hurdles. The problem is that that only involves my index finger and my thumb. What am I talking about? My new addiction:

Here’s the upside, I’m more motivated than ever to shift my focus to health and stock up on nutritious foods. See, I’ve been thinking a lot about my fitness goal.  I agree, that’s pretty lame. But I’m sure there’s something to it — something to mental focus. Stay tuned. I’m not giving up.

Postscript: In fairness to the “devil” in my cartoon – while it’s true, her post on the joys of mousehunt was the final straw that led me to FB, she is a Registered and Licensed Dietitian who has actually been an angel in my on-line quest for better health. And her blog is fabulous, too.

P.S.2: I’ve used these Gravatars without permission.  Gals – say the word & I’ll revise this post, no questions asked.  Thanks.

I was literally having an anxiety attack at about 10:55 this morning. Heading out the door for church, and I couldn’t find my checkbook (which I needed to register for the upcoming Women’s Retreat). I looked in the drawer under the telephone, in the bill file, in my recently used handbags: no checkbook.

I hate losing things. I hate it because it (never okay) very rarely happens. Everything has a place, and every thing gets put away in its place every time every thing is used. 

Yes, faithful readers of this blog will remind me of the same thing that Andy so handily brought up at 11:03 this morning, that I had just lost the iPhone a little over a week ago. So apparently this idea that I never lose things is a delusion – a very peace inducing delusion. And when I get a dose of reality, when something does not show up in its place, I feel like nothing in the world will ever be right again. Suddenly my body is uncomfortable, ugly and agitated. Suddenly, nothing is acceptable, nothing is fine, nothing will feel right until the lost thing is found. 

At 11:07 this morning, heading out the door for the 11am service, in an inconsolable state, I said to Andy that people in my condition have prescriptions to help them through each day. How can it be that I’ve gone this long without the aid of psychiatric medication?

Twelve minutes later, I sat down in the sanctuary just as the last Poppy Praise song was winding down. I hate it when I cheat myself of those Hard To Dislike Downright Danceable Jesus songs. I settled in, coughing, determined to remain unhappy. I didn’t fight the repeated urge to check my phone every three minutes for a text that would say, “I found it” from Andy. 

The text didn’t come. Yet somehow, after the inspirational New Year sermon, after the pianist fucking rocked (she’s a prodigy!), I began to feel a little bit less insane.

I know that physiologically it takes roughly 19 or 21 minutes for the human body to calm down from typical upsets. So perhaps we’re not talking about a real miracle or anything, but the fact of the matter is that I began to feel like every thing was in its place.

Later, the minister used an analogy I’d never heard before. He reminded us of what it looks like when a young child works very hard on a pencil drawing.  You know how a page looks when someone draws with too much pressure and then erases, and erases, and then draws some more only to try to erase again? You know how you can never really erase something fully, and if you try long enough with enough energy, eventually the paper will rip? The minister pointed out that a relationship with God is like getting a fresh sheet of paper any time we need one. (I like to get my new sheet  of paper daily – sometimes several times a day . . . sort of like those pills I would be taking if I went and told a psychiatrist about my can’t-stand-to-misplace-anything-anxiety.)

Eventually, we were all invited to the communion table. As I walked along the pew towards the aisle, I noticed that the stunningly gorgeous guys who’d been sitting next to me (a couple? – so handsome!) left their iPhones and sunglasses (about nine hundred dollars worth of sunglasses!) resting lens to lens on the vacated seat cushion. I followed the gentlemen, leaving my checkbookless purse with all of its contents a few seats down. Where we were going, we didn’t need our things. Where we were going, we were acceptable, we were fine, we would be right and all right. Where we were going, everything essential was found.

January 3, 2009

Dear Diary, 

I did it. I opened up the closet door and I grabbed those 14 year old Dr. Martins, the ones with the black gunk caked onto the inside soles, the ones that I euphemized as being, “not date shoes”, those shoes, I grabbed them and put them into a paper sack marked “Trash.” And then I took, oh, I don’t know, 10 other pairs of shoes, nearly equally as disgusting, and piled them on top of the old Dr. Martins in that sack.

Then,  I filled up five giant shopping bags with old clothes and marked them for Good Will. I did. I really did.

I’ve come here to write off the feelings of anxiety over the whole thing. Because unlike the closet cleaning I did 7 years ago, when I gave away bags of sized 12, 14 and 16 clothing, today, I’m giving away clothes sized 4, 6 and 8. It appears that after 7 years, my body has settled on size 10. 

I will not go gently into this good night. God damn it, I won’t. (Ruth Elizabeth, don’t take the Lord’s name in vain! I always hear my mother respond, even when she’s not around.) But I know God is with me on this one. I know, and God knows, that my body isn’t optimal today. I guess I just kind of figured that 5 year old size 8 clothing isn’t going to be what I’ll feel my best in 4 months from now when I’m fit and trim again. It’s true.

No matter how much I love The Simplicity Movement, no matter how much I believe in following through with a fiscally responsible lifestyle, it’s really time to revamp the old wardrobe. So, in 2009, as I grow happier each week reclaiming a body that feels better, I’ll just have to find some new clothes. 

Thus begins the new year . . . fresh motivation to get lean, write regularly . . . it’s all a part of the tradition.