Category Archives: Post A Week

“Mawwage is what bwings us togwether today….”

In memory of my (not dead) husband:

Mawwage is awesome.  Some of the time.  Most of the time. Am I right?

via dailymail.co.uk

It’s been a year and a half.  I still consider us a pair of newlyweds.  I’m still madly in love and surprised at how in love you could be with someone you want to kill a few times a week.

I reckon since this blog is about being recently married and how to deal with so many changes all at once, it was due time to talk about man versus women.

If you’ve kept up with my mini-saga or read the bio, I’ve mentioned how immediately after marriage I – we- began to deal with serious health problems.  This causes a lot of conflict and confusion for a couple who is supposed to be  locked in the bedroom, high on endorphins and in honeymoon stage.  Even during the honeymoon, we had to make modifications due to my escalating symptoms.  Coming home to a surreal reality of problems is not for the weak.  While a women feels, “Thank God I have a good strong man to help me through this rough time”, a man is most likely feeling, “This is not fair! We’re supposed to be having the time of our lives.”  Though a wife still acknowledges the unfairness of it all, a man’s need to fix something he cannot can really test him, especially early in a marriage before either one has settled themselves into a role of new responsibilities.

This is not limited to couples with illness though.  Even before I got married, I was fascinated by the psychological relationship between husband and wife.  Being a naive and arrogant little girl, when I read books like Men are From Mars, Women are from Venus (for fun, yes, I’m a nerd), I thought, “Why don’t people just say what they’re feeling? Then they would both understand each other!!! It’s so simple.” Haha. Hahahahaha. Hahahahaaa.

There are delicate balances in a loving relationship, or a non-loving one.  There are so many fine lines that it feels more like a tight rope when having to express needs, wants, and emotions.  God forbid you overuse that word: f-e-e-l-i-n-g-s.

However, I’m proud to say that through hard work and application I’ve found the strength to be patient and found a man who in his limited-emotional male vocabulary, and has been patient with me as well.  Better said, we have been patient with the life we’ve been handed and managed to breakthrough to all the little surprises that life shoots at the fan and that all the poo that will continually be flying down on us just to keep us on our game.  Disease, unemployment, cars breaking down, Verizon rape bills…… I gotta give a round of applause for a man who deserves more than a break; and I appreciate him not breaking down on me like that damn Ford Focus he spent six months to pimp out for my anniversary gift.

He has proven to be made of that good tough material.  He still hasn’t learned to make me a gluten-free vegan meal to save his life, but he tucks me in when my body is swollen and takes out the cat poop for me. More so, he trusts that there’s still a little firecracker in me, even when I’m stuck on the couch.  My hero!

For all the other new brides out there, and by new I mean at least up to two years (so says one of my favorite books listed below), the “struggle” is normal no matter what difficulties arise.  Men are a different species and us wifeys have a hard time not swatting our men over their heads when times get tough or when inappropriate fart jokes are made.  But we must be patient for them.  We’re the ones who have to figure it out before they do because they’re not designed to read up or ask their girl friends for relationship advice.  Weepy and naggy women, no matter what how much we deserve to whine, can distance a man or make him recoil into passive aggressiveness, closing the door to certain intimacies.  We have to put our big girl thongs on and learn how to control the situation while making them think they’re the ones in control.  It takes developing a strong measure of common sense and sass, if we haven’t learned it already by the time we’re ball and chain’d.  We’re more scientifically gifted and versed in communication, so it’s our burden and privilege to set the tone, the mood, to let them feel relaxed enough to take the reins.

Men can reach their husband potential relatively quickly if we support their individual needs;  all throughout keeping ourselves together during our times of needs when they’re too stressed to cater to us.  They were not created to wait on our hand and foot to our every want, and even need.  As a matter of fact, we are their complement.  Some men will be very helpful while learning to love after the lust period, but it will not always come natural to them and we have to buck up during this process.  I will admit that some husbands can just turn out a dud altogether sometimes, but that’s a whole other story.  But personally, I think, the ones who are honestly committed,  deserve a wife who can make them feel just as safe and secure during rough times, as they can to us.

So, here’s what has helped me through times when we’re both stumped, tired, annoyed, stressed, you name it….

  • Prayers. I mean, heartfelt, all out, near-accusation-kneeling-supplications, to the Big Guy upstairs.
  • Good and Selective Advice.  Limited to family, and one or two blood-tight friends (don’t want to air business out to everyone), and wise/older/successful couples.  To them, I am forever grateful for their honesty.
  • It’s a Guy Thing – It’s next to my bed.  Looove this book.  A look into the feminine and masculine balance and why men have to scratch and burp while we wonder where our flowers are.
  • What No One Tells the Bride – This book, with collective realizations from different types of new brides, allows women to ease into the violent shock of living in a committed relationship with a penis carrier, especially the independent women.  It takes two years for the average woman to feel like a settled wife.  And we all fear becoming our mothers.  This alone will settle a girl.
  • Why Mars and Venus Collide – I read this one before getting married. The knowledge carried through to the big plummeting vows was priceless.  Out of all the Mars and Venus books, this one seemed most relevant in its insight into times of high stress.  An reasonable  look into why men and women can’t help the way they are and communicate, why it clashes even though its biologically designed to complement each other, and why modern stresses affect the natural balance.
  • Feeling Good – This book is not about marraige.  It’s actually about depression.  I never wanted to read it because at the time I did, I was not depressed.  But for anyone who is highly emotional and reactive, (which marriage can highlight this part of our psyche) this doctor can lead you into enlightenment about why we have certain emotional thoughts and  behaviors and how to find the root of controlling ourselves.  Knowing thyself.  The downside is that you can catch when everyone else is behaving irrationally too and you have to resist the urge of calling them out.  If we can command ourselves, we can deal with others better.
  • Holy Scriptures – Oh yes, I’m serious. And I don’t mean the Ephesians where we’re all told who we are to submit to and that’s that.  Proverbs 31:10-31.  It talks about the capable wife.  Every time I feel lazy, whimpish, resentful, or needy…I read this over and over and imagine a Middle-Eastern prowess of ancient times, taking care of business, and being honored by her hard working husband.  This woman is energetic, spiritual, a real go-getter, a community socialite, runs her house like a tight ship, earns the trust and respect of her husband by being proactive, and earns the praise of her God.  Highly inspirational and more motivating than any of the other books I have in my library.
Have I got it all figured out? I don’t think so.  There are many more obstacles and adventures to come before we croak and we’re released from our sacred vows.  However, when you start with hardship, but constantly come out winning from each test, I swear it only gets better.
If children are involved, please disregard everything I’ve said and please find another source on advice.  I know nothing about dynamics with little ones and I’m no where near ready to know or comment on.  I would dare to say keep the scriptures attached to your foreheads like the Jews used to do.

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Filed under Housewifing, Picture of Health, Post A Week, Random, Under the Weather

Qwerty-itis

Being solely a housewife, housewifing around, is as bittersweet as I ever thought it would be.  It’s okay, I like bittersweet.  It’s the only chocolate consumption that I have control over.  But not having a mandatory, preset hour to rise, scheduled lunch hour, and clock-out time has me all over the map.  Now, I could definitely see myself enjoying this unemployment if our income remained the same:

  • Coffee rendezvous
  • Charity work
  • Gourmet meals everyday
  • Expensive hobbies
  • “Lunching”
  • Raising babies

Nope, I’m confined to a 5-mile radius to save on gas and eating more rice and beans than my country people back in El Salvador.  Being forced to take it easy is nice on my energy levels, but the bone-works still creak and spasm.  I still clean-up in the same manner I did during the good ol full-time days, in tiny spurts.  I’ve gotten more workouts in, more reading, more rest, and family time.  But I’m spending plenty of time plugging away at the keyboard as if I still had a job to get out of the house as soon as possible.

My one rule when I got canned was to wake up and get dressed, including makeup, even if I don’t plan on going out or felt like poop.  Some days I dress casual, some I get in gym clothes, as if I could still make the treadmill cry.  It makes me move at a steady paced as opposed to PJ mode.  And sure enough, I’ve signed up at staffing agencies, scattered my resume across the Tampa-metro, and gave monster.com a good spike in web traffic.  In between brakes, I cleaned kitty litter.  They’re so much happier now that I have time to refresh their potty box more often.

Progress update:

I’m still avidly searching with hints at a slightly better future.  Not too much.   Let’s not get carried away here.  I’m looking for part-time so that my body may live 5 more years than if I had the full-time job, but those gems don’t abound.  Administrative skills call for “9-5” days which are really8-5.  What a deceiving term.  Focusing on the Downtown Area so that I’ll land in the heart of the city and feel more spunky than I did in an office with three guys burping and farting.  Making sure that this time there is a balanced gender environment, for sure.  I got a go-ahead from the county to take a Civil Service Exam and see if I can squeeze into a position for Library Assistant.  Dream. Job.

I immediately drove around my alloted perimeter and checked out books on the information I will be tested on and have been practicing my typing skills.  It is required to have 75 words per minute with 90% error rate allowed.  Haha, yeeaaaaa.

The next two days I will be practicing my little fingertips off and refreshing my multiplication skills (since I’ve had Excel do all my math work in the last 10 years).  I find the task challenging and exciting and it keeps my day mentally busier than killing the 30Rock Seasons on Netflix.  Even if I fail this time around, I love any reason to go to Downtown government buildings; and there is always next year.  I want that job.  I’m already practicing bossing people around, telling them to “Shhhhh!”, and visualizing myself rolling around in a pile of books when the lights are out.

via blog.calgarypubliclibrary.com

So, what’s your typing rate?

http://www.sucss.state.il.us/etest/itest.asp

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Filed under Housewifing, Post A Week, Random

Unemployment: Just What the Doctor Ordered

New posts have been scant, I know.  Stress levels had spilled over the brim and inflammation levels had reached my brain.  Until yesterday.

I said I wouldn’t write about work on this blog… but I’ve been canned, so that dark little hole is unplugged and I can tell you all the horror stories and gripe until my face turns blue and my fingertips bleed.  But I won’t.

Bosslady came down from New Orleans to let me go.  I did not see this coming.  Budget cuts, not enough work, blah, blah, blah.  Until I have evidence to the contrary, I will assume they were implying, “bye bye sick lady” (that’s my cynical side talking).  However, for a change, Bosslady seemed genuinely distraught about having to let me, and a few others go.  She rolled in without barely looking at my face until the moment she called me in to “talk” to me.  Even then I didn’t see it coming, but I sent a quick prayer for peace to control myself from spewing out obscenities about the hell I’m in.  I walked in in peace, and came out of there with even more peace.

via blog.redfin.com

I have bitched and moaned enough about that place.  At this point, venting about it is just piss in the wind.  Enough emotional energy has been wasted there.  Enough neck veins have gorged themselves stiff.  More than all the collective sighs and under-breath mutterings have been emitted.  Now, I’m free and absolved of being a quitter.  Because I’m not a quitter.   I should have been, the moment I realized that place started to take an emotional, therefore, a physical toll on my displaced chi.  But I waited it out like the good girl I’ve forced myself to become.

I drove home, Husband waiting for me with a shot of tequila, he with a Damiana drink *(that we still have leftover from out honeymoon. Yes, we went through customs with about eight bottles from Cabo with us).  I tell you… it was like I took a bottle of Xanax.  I was laughing, cracking jokes, and carelessly having a conversation, at our living room, with my favorite person.  Something that hasn’t happened as much as it should in the last few weeks.

You know how when you go to the doctor with a million complaints and they just tell you you need to reduce your stress, right before your adrenalines spikes from resisting the urge to punch him in the nads for such a daft answer?  Well, he was right.  Let go of that frickin job that makes you miserable.  Obviously, we’re not all in the position to lose our salary and benefits.  Hell, I wasn’t.  But isn’t like Americans to wait until you have a heart attack to stop eating hamburgers?  How long would I have stayed in that personal Hades until I spontaneously burst into flames?

What happens now? I’m not sure.  All I know is that this morning I actually got to partake in faith-based works on a Tuesday morning and I’m more a human than I’ve been in a while.  I just finished filing for unemployment.  My house will be spotless now that I have time to tend to it.  By the end of the week, a job hunt will ensue, after vegetating for a few days. That in itself is reason for another aphrodisiac drink (see Damiana link above).  Being without health insurance, as near-futile as it is, is essential for Husband and I.  But this is a brand new slate, and now I might have the ability to be more picky about where my next job will be.  Maybe not.  Maybe I’ll just fall into another slaving demise in order to survive our increasingly stupider economy.  I’m not sure how we’ll afford my elaborate holistic health treatment and the thousand of supplements I need just to function, but strangely, I’m not worried about it. These things always work themselves out if you don’t get lazy about it.

Meanwhile, I’m so grateful that I was kicked out.  I’m looking forward to the upside of not being in the negative and drowning environment that killed my spirits everyday.  I finally have the opportunity to think, I mean, really think, about my next move in regards to a job that doesn’t dual with my physical and mental health.

My only regret is turning in the office key so quickly.  I would’ve come in the dark, before business hours the next day, and peed on the Swede’s fabric chair as my final building exeunt, with a note behind that read: “We can hear everything you do the bathroom.”

Enough about personal problems!  If your stress levels are coming out of your ears, here is what was helping me decompress before the big news: Ginseng Complex! and Super Energy Up! from The Vitamin Shoppe.

If you have Lupus, or any of the inflammation based diseases,  stress is an enemy of extreme.  The amount of backlash from tension and tiredness will start to decompose you before you expire.  Two weeks ago I started taking this and I was suddenly able to think without short-circuiting, crying, taking nap after nap, other bodily functions if you know what I’m saying, relax, etc.  Hair loss that comes with many autoimmune diseases is at a halt, which is more important than walking to me, but I’m even able to walk longer periods of time right now.  I recommend it to anyone who feels they’re about to go postal.

So, if you can’t bring yourself to tell your boss what you really think about him and get yourself fired, read up on B-12 and chinese herbs.  Little tid-bit: Americans market Ginseng as an energy booster.  Chinese apply Ginseng to achieve calmness.  Center your chi people!

via axemy.files.wordpress.com

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Filed under Housewifing, Loopy Lupus, Post A Week, Random

Britney Spears Prophesizes the End of the Times

Housewives, either with lucrative careers or unsatisfying desk jobs, still, at the end of the day, have the inherent need to socialize, be involved, and do their part in the world.

*Like I mention in my Tid-Bits,  I won’t be involving the spiritual aspects that fulfill women, or any person; although it does largely pertain to some of the following.  Fill in your own blanks there.

Aside from yapping with girlfriends and contemporary mommies, secular interests and exchangin ideology plays a part in women’s connectedness. News, politics, trends, and world events are a part of that background life, even if it’s not personally high in our esteem.

In the case of politics, personally, I don’t carry these things in the forefront or feel too strongly about them.  I’m neutral about politics, and try not to opine on something that is only a smoke-screen, while the top-dawgs play chess with us pawns.  I only try not to watch in horror.

My attention attempts to focus on my home, my family, faith, friends and some R&R.  But when I am housewifing away and needing to distract myself from tedious laundry folding or that husband is still two days from returning home, I turn on that frickin TV; like a robot.  And since I only have a meager nano iPod -because I lovingly surrendered my 120GB treasure with a 300,000 song capacity to Husband for his job- the residual comparison that of 8 gb’s is not enough to bother changing out the same old albums.  And, I’m easily bored by not-new music.

Slightly digressing, I did get the new Britney Spears CD, Femme Fatale, but it’s only okay, and the auto-tune isn’t going to carry my interest through for more than a week.   So, again, the TV.  And since basic television (no cable or satellite by our mutual choice, or we’d never get anything done) is so bad it makes you want to cut yourself in inconspicuous body parts, you’re left with the painstaking George Lopez or the predictable 10:00 o’clock news.  There is only occasional relief from the show Fringe, which is bad a$$.

So the options:

—boredom by radio music without real instruments

—death by un-funny, mediocre, or overly scripted news and television, out-shined by a bombardment of commercials of the plastic surgery you need and getting your Feast On at Checkers

— or silence.  And teaching the cats to say dirty words in Spanish.

And I shamefully admit to having a slightly unbalanced rotation of these.  Except for the cat thing.  You know I don’t speak Spanish, Baxter!  I usually pick silence, and then my housework has no rhythm and preparing a simple meal takes  lifetime to complete.

Until I can figure out how to hook up www.slacker.com radio to my stereo or afford another mega-iPod, my goal is to keep that TV off, even if I need a lending hand in the background while I wash the dishes (my dishwasher sucks).  I will not allow Inside Edition to create ambiance in my house.  I won’t have it anymore.  I will succumb to going back and forth, with soapy hands, between my sucky iPod and moving the shuffle button along through the albums I’m sick of.  I will look into audiobooks, since I don’t have time to read anymore anyway.

But the point to all this is mostly that:  I will no longer bother watching the crap on television unless I’m purposely going to watch a specific show or carefully selected movie (one with actual dialogue) that I like.  No. More. Mainstream. Media.  No more re-runs of that dysfunctional-hailed lunatic Charlie Sheen’s Two Men and a Baby or whatever.  Not funny.  Not charming.  Downright degrading and misogynistic.  A quick mourn for all the brain cells that I’ve neglectfully exposed to the tube and moving on.

However, I don’t think its wise to be completely disconnected from world events either.   Especially the way things are going now.  But ABC and Faux (Fox) News is definitely not the place to know what’s going on.  If I hear about one more dog who adopted a litter of pigs or find out what a Snookie is despite all my efforts to be dis-informed about it/her/him, I swear I will go Postal on the Good Morning America team.  (I have a dream of punching them in the face, all in a row).  The mainstream agenda pushes mental illness on kids. Hell, they push ADHD on any person with a hint of stress.  They’re feeding us bull about wars and wasting air time with highly scrutinized rehearsed, cut, rolled, and smoked presidential press speeches, which only inform of us our impending doom.  And they show emotionally unnecessary playbacks of the most painful scenes in Japan.  And we watch, because what other news do we know?  And because our brains are genetically (more recently technically and addictively) wired to watch train wrecks.  And so our stress levels follow suit.

Now, I don’t know if there is an elephant in the country about who owns the news stations and the way they choose, chop and screw the information they’ll force-feed us, or whether people genuinely know that there is so much more going on then a soldier saying hi to his family on webcam.   A buttload of is not being said about what truly affects our day-to-day and though in the end, we cannot do much about it, if I am to be informed, I’d rather hear some unfiltered and propaganda-exempt free-press.  Or read somethings else with IQ (or EQ) value.

In case you’re curious, here are some links of the more informed, publicly censored , journalists who don’t require an excessively staffed entourage and botox to be on a screen, without the mind-numbing, intelligence-mocking, drug-pushing mumbo-jumbo on TV:

http://www.projectcensored.org/

http://inteldaily.com/

It’s also free from other alternative, schizophrenic, fear-mongering news you can get from Alex Jones or Infowars.  These guys scream ‘conspiracy’ and although it is mostly likely true, if you holler like banshee, people will automatically question your veracity. Thank you for that, Reptilian George Bush believers.

I like the more fact based, neutrally dispensed, honed key points, and occasionally healthy whistle-blowers,  that actually tell us where the real problems are coming from and leave it up to us how we will protect ourselves and our families.  Issues like:

The pentagon spending more money on war that the government spends on the Citizens of America.:

http://inteldaily.com/news/173/ARTICLE/13219/2009-12-25.html

Or how Monsanto (the boss of mostly everything you buy on the shelves and produce section) is still secretly circumventing ways around the FDA and USDA to genetically modify our foods, unnaturally altered foods that are getting people sick.  *ferociously points at self!!!*

http://inteldaily.com/2011/04/lawsuit-seeks-to-invalidate-monsanto%E2%80%99s-gmo-patents/

And while on the topic of unproven conspiracies, Brit-Brit’s hit song is the same exact song as Enrique Iglesias, “Tonight I’m Loving you.” Yes, it is.  If you’re keen on picking up on pattern recognition, you already suspected this.

http://www.aolnews.com/2011/03/04/britney-spears-til-the-world-ends-a-whole-lot-like-enrique-ig/

I know, I know…from the outside in, it seems I have a cynical way to view the music and tv that comes into our homes. But yes,  there is so much garbage out there eager to reach our eyes and ears and I’m not letting it come into my home to leave me wondering why I feel so off, disconnected, conflicted, and misinformed.  Even unmotivated at times.  The numbers of issues and our general ignorance has played a huge part in why I’m not healthy and must spend my free time catching up on chores.  So yes,  I’m a little more careful of what buzzing media influences my view of life.  And yes,  I’m also just insatiably curious of why the Department of Defense is mysteriously, unquestionably, not required to list their books when they suck up all our monies.

As fun as it is to sing and “keep on dancing til the world ends”, all that party vibe, live for the weekend, or reality TV has a small, monitored, place in my little world.  With all I got going on, with all that the universe has going on, I had momentarily slipped into the hypnotic bad habits of the American mass, but occasionally I take note of where I’d like to be at and whether I’m there.  The more important things have my attention now.

I will stick to reading, maintain a relatively awareness to the world around me, keeping up with the times but away from the hype, more in-tuned with building relationships, individual growth, and keeping my house a peaceful, cozy place.

Thanks for reading and hope you get your tax refunds back before the universes’ consciousness shifts.

P.S. My husband thinks I’m a dork.  Haha.

Disclaimer: I understand this is probably not the most popular standpoint when it comes to media, entertainment, and leisure, but it’s taken about 28 years to embrace the gritty feeling of going against the grain.  That being said, I relate to all and respect everyone’s stance on how they choose to work, play, and their individual viewpoints, whether strong and laid-back.  Variety is the spice of life and it helps raise the important questions.

Bonus:

Look at that! In español.  What?  You thought Telemundo wouldn’t stoop to corporate buy-outs?

Pa tu mama!

http://www.proyectocensurado.org/

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Filed under Housewifing, Post A Week, Random

Never Crave French Fries Again

(EDIT: fixed the link below)

White potatoes are part of the nightshade vegetable family.  I still can’t tell if they personally affect my inflammation levels.  I hear its different for everyone.  I don’t crave crave homemade potatoes ever, but when I smell regular McD type fries, the scratchin and twinchin starts.  They don’t even taste that awesome to me, so I reckon it’s the heroin they add into their frying lard bins that tells my brain I must have them.  Either way, I still stay away from french fries or anything fried.  But I do crave starches, as we should, and it’s tiring eating brown rice all the time.  Hellooooo Sweet Potatoes! this tater is in the clear for dangerous toxin avoidance.

So I tried this lil easy and quick recipe.  This is an addiction that doesn’t terrorize the body and mind.  Like the recently added word from the Oxford dictionary implies: OMG!

When I saw the recipe and imagined the flavors together, I couldn’t have imagined how awesome it would turn out. So, click below and check it out.  Filling, satisfying and it feels like indulgence. And its so pretty.  However, even the oils are good for you (if the rest of your diet during the day/week is balanced).  Yes, this meal was nice to me.  No pain, no inflammation, no weirdness.  The trick now is seeing if Husband will like it when he gets back to town.

Roasted Sweet Potato Salad w/ Cranberries & Roasted Pumpkin Seeds

http://vegvacious.blogspot.com/2011/02/roasted-sweet-potato-salad.html

Note:

I didn’t have Dijon mustard so I improvised and probably will keep doing it my way. My dressing involved two parts.  Since I didn’t know if the tastes would blend well, I made them separately and mixed them on the plate instead:

  • 1/3 olive oil
  • 1/2 cup white vinegar
  • white onion (small half, sliced thin into slivers)

(the extra can be used as an everyday healthy salad dressing.  But I don’t like yer typical greens salad. Yeck.)

Separately, I just mixed honey mustard:

  • 2 tbsps Organic mustard (or any yellow mustard)
  • 3 drops of Pure honey

Kay, that’s it. Buh Bye.

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Filed under Foodsies, Picture of Health, Post A Week, Random

Running Music

(Wrote this post a few weeks back, just got around to editing.)

As a single person, I often listened to the calls of nature more than responsibilities.  I know, not the best thing to brag about, but it’s who I default to when The Man is getting the best of me.  If the day is perfect, I will do what is necessary to catch the sunlight, or the perfect sun:wind combo, or a burst of energy.  So today, although the laundry was shouting my name, it was one of Florida’s few perfect days.  And also,  it’s not Thursday, the weird day in which I recoil to a robotic machine and cannot do anything out of routine.  So I put on my funky little shape-ups (that I only own because Husband says they’re cute) although I think he’s just getting on my good side.  Gotta let the cripple win some.  I went out for a walk.

By the way, they don’t tone your butt.  Squats tone your butt. And that’s not why I got them, my buns are fine thank you.  They ease up the knee joints.

The breeze was perfect and the right blend of cool and warm.   The afternoon shades were dreamily falling over the city line (albeit, an ugly city in my humble opinion).  I put my iPod buds in my ears and set out to walk in a public area where I won’t be abducted (and quickly returned).  It was hard to resist not taking off running, just like the old days.  After so many years of trying to find my niche, aside from home, work, and family, it was this.  Hitting the pavement, beating my own records, listening to my music, and separating my thoughts from everything that could disillusion a person.  Now here I was treading ever so lightly to make sure my foot bones won’t slide around, my hip won’t rub on direct bone, my knees won’t hyper-extend, my ankles won’t swell, my ligaments won’t snap.  I about started to run to forget it all.  But I didn’t.  I’m paying heed to the lessons I’m finally learning about over-doing it.

Another aspect I noticed about my single-self versus married-self, with the added struggle of being as fragile as a porcelain doll, is music.  Music would set my mood, or I would set the mood with my music.  I don’t usually care for music in the background while I work or while a group is enjoying a conversation.  I ritualistically listen to it when I can be in the car, when I’m running, or when I can blare my lungs out while cleaning.  But lately, I hardly listen to music in the same style I used to.  Husband and I have a relatively small margin of music in common compared to my otherwise limitless taste in music.  We enjoy many styles together, but not the type I can play all day and certainly not the type that macho guys will jam too.  I’m left to banging my head or waving around glow sticks; otherwise I opt for quiet time because of how easily overwhelmed I get to loud noises on days that I’m tired; and I usually am.  Also, my car has been getting customized in the shop, along with my iPod friendly sound system.  In my makeshift ride, I’m stuck with the radio and I’d rather listen to NPR than Bieber.  So I found that I don’t listen to music as much  anymore and when I do, I’m not affected by it in the emotional style I used to be.

“Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?” -John Cusack

I’m more of the melancholic type, more so before than now.  Being happily married, I’m no longer an industry target for the hormone-driven roller coaster girl.  I’m no longer ‘need’ to relate to the pining Fiona, or bitter Lilly Allen, insecure Jem, or clueless Britney Spears.  I mean, I still rock out to all my favorites, but I don’t relate to those feelings that have been replaced by real life and real love.  It’s hard for me to listen to boppy and poppy music all the time because it doesn’t feel realistic to me.  All this nonsense and shenanigans about Just Dance, It’ll be Okay…Uh Dancing won’t make it okay. Really, it won’t.  And Rude Boys, please!  We want gentlemen! Yes we do, so don’t make me sing along.  But I’m happy now and love my melancholic music just as much, so it was weird to shuffle through some of my old songs and immediately flash black to a time that I invited turmoil over a boy or a guy who played with my head.  How different things are!

The feeling of being married didn’t happen overnight.  Becoming ill did not happen overnight.  I never picked a particular day and exclaimed, “Today I will be okay with being ill” or “I know what it feels like to be an established wife”.  Every once in a while I get a surprising whiplash into the current reality and have to take stock of where I am and how much I’ve progressed or what else might need adjustment.

Stepping out of my new element and into my old one, I realize I’ve settled in to the emotions that come along with being bound to someone and also how to leave single selfish emotions where they belong, in the past.  The transition into new stages of life have always been violent for me, but recently I feel like its falling into place like butter.  It’s not without some work and introspection but it’s nice not to have to resist so much.  Even in the subtler things, like completely surrendering to another person or deciding to walk 20 minutes instead of run 10 minutes.  I’m learning how to pay attention to myself whether I make the personal decision or if life throws a curve ball.

via Noelap at Flickr

Anyway, you don’t lose who you were or everything that makes you the person you currently are.  It just evolves and grows.  So I can still listen and pine to sap songs when my husband is away for business:

Paolo Nutini – No Other Way (The Scottish and arpeggios.  A beautiful blend.)

And yet I’ve learned to party right along with him and our blending lifestyle.  One that we both are continually accommodating to without looking back, and hoping that one day I’ll be much healthier so I can run the circles around him that drove him wild:

Skrillex – Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites (It’ll make your brain oooze. Best enjoyed with headphones)

 

 

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Filed under Housewifing, Indulgence, Loopy Lupus, Post A Week

A Quickie.

(Since it’s a quickie, editing will be at a minimum.  This is real life ya’ll.)

I’m still here.  The launch of this blog was not a false spark of energy.  As a matter of fact, when I started, I had very little energy.  My usual hobbies and duties had taken a back seat while I sat pretty on the couch with a Wolf flare, one of inflammation and exhaustion that I’m still working to understand.  I was either going to be TV prone or manage to save my my brain cells through the medium of writing.  The only thing I confess to is that the momentum was a bit heavy and posting something funny or interesting every day is just not going to happen.   So I decided if I feel like it, I will write, and if I don’t, I won’t.  There’s no point in making a blog if you lose your joy over feeling the need to cater to an audience.  This project is the exact opposite.  Adversity confronted.

Well, in the last week or so and hopefully in the following days, I’ve been much healthier.  It’s a large part of the reason I’ve been absent from the screen.  No chance I will be typing away when my legs and lungs are at almost-normal capacity.  The symptoms never seem to fully go away, but they do submit to all my careful and meticulous healing methods and avoidance tactics.  However, remission is temporary and who knows when and how it will strike again.  Pummeling through the last week like I have is probably counterproductive to a chunky period of health.  This culture we live in makes it feel like if you’re not go-go-gadget, you’re letting precious time and life slip away, and yes, I’m a conflicted member of that mentality.  It duals with my zen-like, listen-to-your-body-mentality.  Even with husband being gone so much this month, there’s so much that needs to be done.  At the end of the day, some time for perspective is of the essence.  Somewhere between all the things that need to be taken care of and walking to and from parking lots, I get overwhelmed.  This is not intended as a pleasure read, but as a visual representation of my mind going 1000 miles per hour at the end of the day.  Definitely, not in chronological order.

  • Drop off the cat before work to get spayed, power through banging morning headaches and body aches.
  • Make a stop at the gas station, the produce corner, publix, and Target during Saturday mayhem.
  • Schedule half the other errands during work lunches or I’ll get too achy.
  • Make sure you have energy for when Husband comes home.
  • Make sure there is clean laundry for when he comes home.
  • Did you remember the cilantro?
  • The cat food bowls are empty.
  • They’re out of litter.
  • Emergency run to Petsmart.
  • Forgot parent’s anniversary.
  • Food diary: peanut butter makes muscles hurt.
  • Can’t leave the house with just any pair of shoes, a new set of flats is in order. Add shopping, postpone, rinse, repeat.
  • Cancel the peanut butter on Vitacost order.
  • Order is on route. Eat the $.
  • Schedule mattress shopping dates with Husband. Postpone, rinse, repeat.
  • Bought oats, not gluten free.   Eat that cost as well.
  • What’s making my skin itchy, is it the Wolf? Is it dryness? Is it chemtrails?
  • Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.
  • Include exercise somewhere in there, it’ll give you the energy to last longer.
  • Medicine regimen. Empty stomach before and after, 3 times a day.
  • Cat took off the cone! Get her!!!
  • Read every label of everything you buy.
  • Put on foot lotion after shower.
  • Deny invitations for food and play and cheerfully offer options.
  • Skip meetings, listen in.
  • Catch up through text, forget the written letters.
  • Call in late again. Rush through lunch.
  • Repaint those chipped toenails.
  • Remember to take the nopal, the omegas, the flax seed oil three times a day, drink at least one tea of ginger, make sure to eat fiber every day.
  • Break up the cats, no roughhousing yet.
  • Don’t get sidetracked! You burned the butternut squash.
  • Install shower filter on list.
  • But I thought you took out the garbage?
  • The dishes are calling.  Husband is hungry. Cat is playing with stitches.  Must. Sit. Down.
  • Husband and I are ill and exhausted
  • Did that have caffeine in it?  IC flared again.
  • Send bill payment to new location. Locate the new address.
  • Tell God to take care of the usual suspects, cause I can’t remember what’s going on with who?
  • UPS skipped the delivery, add to the errands list for pick-up.  Wait in line.
  • Forget re-doing the toenails…shave!
  • Forgot to buy distilled water.
  • Smile without looking psychotic!

Does anyone else feel like they’re brain is going to explode?  Is the full moon arriving or is there just such limited time and too much traffic in the city? Do we self-sabotage/load ourselves to cover every little detail and then feel unaccomplished if something on the to-do list goes unchecked?

I don’t know if in reality it isn’t much and it only feels that way, but no matter the lessened pace I impose, no matter how much repose I force myself to surrender to, there has been an underlying sense of overload, especially if anything doesn’t get done.  I don’t necessarily blame being ill on this but I do have to wonder how large a part it plays in my life even when I do feel relatively upbeat and active.

It seems like it’s inconvenience after inconvenience, but its just life, not picking on any one particular person.  It’s about organizing before it gets out of control, or admitting overload when it’s there.  Before I got married, I learned how we automatically as  individuals (especially control freaks) usually take note of the undone without taking stock of the things that go according to plan.  Even if it does happen while running amock, there are many things going our way as long as we’re putting the time and work it.  The balanced person knows that there is more negative than positive, but some careful meditation helps pinpoint good results that are achieved and how its not always found on the chore list.

It was suggested in one of my favorite books on how the mind creates thoughts and affects behaviors.  It proposed that you take the author up, for one week at the end of the day, write everything you accomplished, now matter how small the task.  It was to enhance your viewpoint by the end of each trial period and begin learning to more readily acknowledge your hard work and sense of ongoing accomplishment.  I tried it and it goes to show that even though it felt like complete chaos to do everything on a limited clock, I was getting it done.  Expecting everything at my pace (a pace that I put up against those go-getter superwomen) was where the pressure built and distorted the view that everything was going pretty darn well.

  • Cat fixed. Done and over with.
  • Parents back from El Salvador, quality time spent with them.
  • Date night with Husband.
  • Bob’s Red Mill kindly sent me Gluten Free oats to replace my mistaken purchase.
  • I got my Tofu Press.
  • The health foods are working marvelously.
  • Business has picked up.
  • My kitty just said I LOVE YOU in cat.
  • Husband and I are on the same page, despite the travel schedule.
  • I received recognition for the monthly incentive program at work.
  • Sister send the best talking card and magnet!
  • Got a bomb-a$$ deal at Yankee candle for the parents anniversary gift by coincidence.  (Some lady just left a buy 2 get 2 of equal size free.
  • ….The list goes on, but some things I’ll keep to myself as any of you would.

So, I’m exhausted.  A bit stressed.  Missing Husband, especially at bedtime.  But not worrying about a pretty and perfect post has got me feeling pretty pleased tonight.  My house is mostly clean and I’m set up to go to my meeting tomorrow.  Priorities back on track and I’m sure there’ll be another readjustment soon.  Next week on my list, slow down on new health recipes, repeat a few meals, and instead take proper care of others when done taking care of self.  🙂

Peace out. Lights out.

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Filed under Housewifing, Loopy Lupus, Post A Week, Random, Uncategorized