Posts
Every now and then I get YouTube obsessions over the most random topics. My latest one started last week when I saw a report about ventriloquist Terry Fator on CBS News Sunday Morning:
My parents saw him in Vegas about a year ago and they loved him. It's easy to see why; he's amazingly good.
During that report, as you may have seen, there was a very small segment featuring Shari Lewis, Lamb Chop, and Charlie Horse. They were a big part of my childhood, through the old PBS show Lamb Chop's Play Along. I was fresh out of college when she died, and I felt the same sort of sadness that I experienced when Jim Henson died years earlier: It felt like a member of the family had left me. And then I thought, "Well, how is Lamb Chop going to go on? And Hush Puppy? And Charlie Horse?" (Personally, as much as I loved Lamb Chop, Hush Puppy was my favorite. I didn't care much for Charlie Horse).
Thankfully, Shari's daughter, Mallory, has taken over the act, and is now voicing Lamb Chop. And Lamb Chop sounds exactly like Shari's version. I honestly can't tell the difference.
Judge for yourself. Here's one of the many YouTube clips featuring Shari and Lamb Chop. I watch this particular clip and wonder why children's television these days can't be as good as it was back during my childhood. Shari doesn't talk down to the kids, and she's very creative in dealing with Lamb Chop:
And for comparison's sake, here's a segment with Mallory and Lamb Chop:
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Home again today
...and I still hear snowblowers around my condo complex, next door, and plows on the roads. Apparently they're still getting rid of the snow at work, which is why I'm home again today.
It's nice to know, though, that the main roads are clear again, so I can at least leave the house if I wanted to.
But those huge piles of laundry aren't going away any time soon...hmmm...
It's nice to know, though, that the main roads are clear again, so I can at least leave the house if I wanted to.
But those huge piles of laundry aren't going away any time soon...hmmm...
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Snow day
The entire state of Connecticut is closed. Or so it seems. There's no one on the roads, and the city police just called every resident, via automated message, to advise everyone to stay off the roads. Our governor told everyone the same thing, and he's already had his fourth or fifth press conference about the storm today.
My neighbors are comparing this to the blizzard of '78. I was two years old at the time, so obviously, I have no memory of it.
But there are at least two feet of snow outside. The snowbanks from the plows and snowblowers come up to at least my waist.
I'm taking a temporary break from digging my car out of its parking space. I need to defrost a bit.
And then I'll go outside again...because, in all likelihood, I've gotta go back to work tomorrow.
And on a random note...is that Eric Roberts on The Young and the Restless? (I don't ever watch soaps, but I haven't had the chance to change the channel from the local noontime news yet).
My neighbors are comparing this to the blizzard of '78. I was two years old at the time, so obviously, I have no memory of it.
But there are at least two feet of snow outside. The snowbanks from the plows and snowblowers come up to at least my waist.
I'm taking a temporary break from digging my car out of its parking space. I need to defrost a bit.
And then I'll go outside again...because, in all likelihood, I've gotta go back to work tomorrow.
And on a random note...is that Eric Roberts on The Young and the Restless? (I don't ever watch soaps, but I haven't had the chance to change the channel from the local noontime news yet).
Friday, January 7, 2011
A snowy Friday night at Bookkitten headquarters
...and I'm kinda bored. I figured I'd best explain in further detail the reasons for my sporadic hiatus. Basically, like I said in my last post, I had overbooked myself. Every weekend since mid-August, I had something to do for church, work, or social activities. And by December, everything caught up to me. After Thanksgiving, I felt run down. Exhausted. Sick. I didn't even put up Christmas decorations or send out cards. Holiday shopping became more of a chore than usual.
So, I decided to take charge. During my vacation the last week in December, I didn't do much. I didn't even attend a New Year's Eve party. I went over to Sister Kitten's, and we both were asleep after 12:30 AM. I rested, relaxed, and recuperated.
And my resolution this year is to take more time for me. For instance, I'm going to take the month off from social activities. I've been invited to a few outings with friends, but I'm not attending those. It's not that I don't want to see them; I do. But right now I feel it's best for me to spend some time alone--clean my house, organize things, and just decompress.
Wintertime is the perfect opportunity to do just that. The snowy weather, the cold, the wind--all pose perfect times to stay home by the fire, or in my case, the radiator. And as I'm typing this, I'm starting to realize what a friend of mine always says about winter being a time of rebirth--everything is at rest, getting ready for a season of rebirth and regrowth in the spring.
So I guess that's what I'm doing right now--but rather than "rebirthing" myself into a whole new person, I'm using the winter as a time of reflection.
So right now, I'm sitting by the television, with my laptop, watching the weathermen hype this latest storm (which took awhile to get to my little city). One cat is sleeping peacefully at my side, and the other just joined me at my left. I'm going to get up to go to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine, maybe two. A bubble bath may be in my future. And I've got flannel sheets and a down comforter on my bed. Life is good.
So, I decided to take charge. During my vacation the last week in December, I didn't do much. I didn't even attend a New Year's Eve party. I went over to Sister Kitten's, and we both were asleep after 12:30 AM. I rested, relaxed, and recuperated.
And my resolution this year is to take more time for me. For instance, I'm going to take the month off from social activities. I've been invited to a few outings with friends, but I'm not attending those. It's not that I don't want to see them; I do. But right now I feel it's best for me to spend some time alone--clean my house, organize things, and just decompress.
Wintertime is the perfect opportunity to do just that. The snowy weather, the cold, the wind--all pose perfect times to stay home by the fire, or in my case, the radiator. And as I'm typing this, I'm starting to realize what a friend of mine always says about winter being a time of rebirth--everything is at rest, getting ready for a season of rebirth and regrowth in the spring.
So I guess that's what I'm doing right now--but rather than "rebirthing" myself into a whole new person, I'm using the winter as a time of reflection.
So right now, I'm sitting by the television, with my laptop, watching the weathermen hype this latest storm (which took awhile to get to my little city). One cat is sleeping peacefully at my side, and the other just joined me at my left. I'm going to get up to go to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine, maybe two. A bubble bath may be in my future. And I've got flannel sheets and a down comforter on my bed. Life is good.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Already looking forward to 11.11.11
If we're all jazzed up for today, 1.1.11, imagine the celebrations we'll all have 11.11.11!!! Sorry I haven't been around, kittens...I want to assure you that nothing bad occurred, it's just that I overbooked myself (no pun intended) during the last quarter of 2010. (Man, that last sentence was a modern day punctuation/run-on horror). Anyhoo, hope you're all happy and safe on this New Year's Day. I will try to get back to blogging as soon as I have the time and the mojo...the well has certainly run dry lately. In the meantime, all the best for 2011 and hope to chat with y'all soon!
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Have you ever...
...known someone, and valued that person, for many years, and just lost touch? And all of a sudden, after not thinking about them for just as many years, they just pop up, randomly, into your brain?
That's happened to me recently.
Lately I've been thinking about my 8th grade history teacher. Yes, kittens, I know that sounds random, but this woman really did a lot for me.
I was coming off a really bad 7th grade year. Really bad 7th grade year. Remember that this all takes place well before Facebook, Twitter, texting, and any form of instant communication that preceded the prank phone call.
I was an awkward child known for being a bookworm, for out of control hair, for ridiculous fashion sense, and for being an open target. I was bullied, mostly by my ex-best friend and her newfound cronies. I wasn't bullied so much that I had prank phone calls or eggs thrown at me, or toilet paper around my house, but I was insulted verbally. A lot.
So I built a wall around myself. And didn't let anyone in by the time that year came to a close.
Then came 8th grade. I faced a quandary by the time September rolled around: You see, kittens, I really liked school. I liked to learn. Hell, loved to learn. I would read ahead in textbooks and work on extra math problems for fun.
However, I hated the social part of it. Everyone had to dress the same, be the same, have the same hairstyle, talk about boys...
...I wanted no part of it.
I entered my 8th grade year determined to make it through socially, get straight As, and then go to private school, away from my peers, the following year.
That's when I met Mrs. P. In addition to being my history teacher, she was my homeroom teacher.
She knew who I was when I walked into her classroom on the first day of school.
And that scared the crap out of me.
She was a dynamic woman who was extremely well put-together. Not a hair was out of place. Fingernails, perfectly manicured. Her clothes were incredibly stylish. They may not have been all of the latest trends, but Mrs. P. had a way of carrying herself so elegantly. She had an incredible presence.
And she loved her students. Her enthusiasm for teaching was evident. Her passion for history could be seen on her bulletin boards, in her bookshelf, in the photos she had of students who participated in statewide competitions...
Wait a sec...
...do we all have to participate in this competition?
More on that later. But first, let's start with the second week of school, when Mrs. P. announced that she was casting for her annual play. That year, the play was about Black History Month. All of her students were required to have some part in the play, whether it was the chorus or behind the scenes.
I volunteered to be in the chorus.
But Mrs. P. had something else in mind.
She cast me in the lead.
Up to that point, I had zero acting experience. I only had, as most teenage girls do, a well-developed flair for the dramatic. I still don't know, to this day, why she had cast me in such a big role. Did she want to capitalize on my flair for the dramatic? Did she think I had a good speaking voice? Did she think I had stage presence?
Or did she want to instill a sense of confidence in an otherwise insecure girl? Did she see potential in me that I didn't?
I read the script and had it memorized by the next rehearsal. I really wanted to make a good impression.
By the night of the play, I had received compliments from classmates I otherwise would not have spoken to. They really loved my acting, and often told me, "I didn't know you could do that!"
Boy, was that an ego boost!
About a month later, Mrs. P. announced that everyone was required to complete a research project on a historical figure. There was a statewide history competition that year, and the theme was "Science and Technology in History." I decided to research Madame Curie, complete the three-paneled cardboard display, and turn in the project.
But Mrs. P. had other suggestions for me.
I ended up entering the competition--and presented my research through a dramatic monologue as Madame Curie, Polish accent and all.
I came in third in the regional competition, and felt confident enough I could win at the state level.
And I did--I came in third place in my category.
But only first and second place could go to nationals.
Needless to say, I was crushed.
The following morning, a Sunday, I got a phone call, at home, from Mrs. P. She asked how I was feeling, and I told her I still was pretty upset. But she told me that things would get better, and soon.
They did get better, indeed. Two days later our class left for our annual trip to Washington, DC--and the teachers chose me and another student to lay a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.
I never, ever thought I'd do something of that magnitude when I was in 7th grade.
Mrs. P. really helped me come out of my shell. She helped instill a sense of confidence and determination in me that I didn't know I had. She gave me the tools to do better in school and develop my potential.
Her classroom became a sanctuary for me. I'd hang out there a couple of times a week after school, and we'd chat while I did my homework and she corrected papers.
I ended up going to another high school the following year, and we eventually lost touch. Occasionally, throughout the years, I'd think about Mrs. P. and wondered what she was up to.
But this week, I've thought about her. A lot.
A friend of mine says that this happens to her quite a bit. She regards this as a sign that such a person needs to have a prayer said for them. And nine times out of ten, something happens to that person. Something significant, either good or bad.
So tonight, I said a prayer. I am really, really contemplating getting back in touch. Just sending a letter, or a Christmas card, saying how I am and what I've been up to since my 8th grade year. Just a thank you note would do.
But a part of me is very nervous about this. Is this the right thing to do? I found my second grade teacher a couple of years ago, another woman who had a significant impact on me, and wrote to her, but she never wrote back.
And then another part of me worries that she's ill and doesn't have the physical capacity to write back.
I'd better stop this, because I'm going around in circles, and it's very late. So let me conclude by asking you this, kittens: Have you ever told someone from your past how much they really meant to you? And when you did, were you able to do so before it was too late?
That's happened to me recently.
Lately I've been thinking about my 8th grade history teacher. Yes, kittens, I know that sounds random, but this woman really did a lot for me.
I was coming off a really bad 7th grade year. Really bad 7th grade year. Remember that this all takes place well before Facebook, Twitter, texting, and any form of instant communication that preceded the prank phone call.
I was an awkward child known for being a bookworm, for out of control hair, for ridiculous fashion sense, and for being an open target. I was bullied, mostly by my ex-best friend and her newfound cronies. I wasn't bullied so much that I had prank phone calls or eggs thrown at me, or toilet paper around my house, but I was insulted verbally. A lot.
So I built a wall around myself. And didn't let anyone in by the time that year came to a close.
Then came 8th grade. I faced a quandary by the time September rolled around: You see, kittens, I really liked school. I liked to learn. Hell, loved to learn. I would read ahead in textbooks and work on extra math problems for fun.
However, I hated the social part of it. Everyone had to dress the same, be the same, have the same hairstyle, talk about boys...
...I wanted no part of it.
I entered my 8th grade year determined to make it through socially, get straight As, and then go to private school, away from my peers, the following year.
That's when I met Mrs. P. In addition to being my history teacher, she was my homeroom teacher.
She knew who I was when I walked into her classroom on the first day of school.
And that scared the crap out of me.
She was a dynamic woman who was extremely well put-together. Not a hair was out of place. Fingernails, perfectly manicured. Her clothes were incredibly stylish. They may not have been all of the latest trends, but Mrs. P. had a way of carrying herself so elegantly. She had an incredible presence.
And she loved her students. Her enthusiasm for teaching was evident. Her passion for history could be seen on her bulletin boards, in her bookshelf, in the photos she had of students who participated in statewide competitions...
Wait a sec...
...do we all have to participate in this competition?
More on that later. But first, let's start with the second week of school, when Mrs. P. announced that she was casting for her annual play. That year, the play was about Black History Month. All of her students were required to have some part in the play, whether it was the chorus or behind the scenes.
I volunteered to be in the chorus.
But Mrs. P. had something else in mind.
She cast me in the lead.
Up to that point, I had zero acting experience. I only had, as most teenage girls do, a well-developed flair for the dramatic. I still don't know, to this day, why she had cast me in such a big role. Did she want to capitalize on my flair for the dramatic? Did she think I had a good speaking voice? Did she think I had stage presence?
Or did she want to instill a sense of confidence in an otherwise insecure girl? Did she see potential in me that I didn't?
I read the script and had it memorized by the next rehearsal. I really wanted to make a good impression.
By the night of the play, I had received compliments from classmates I otherwise would not have spoken to. They really loved my acting, and often told me, "I didn't know you could do that!"
Boy, was that an ego boost!
About a month later, Mrs. P. announced that everyone was required to complete a research project on a historical figure. There was a statewide history competition that year, and the theme was "Science and Technology in History." I decided to research Madame Curie, complete the three-paneled cardboard display, and turn in the project.
But Mrs. P. had other suggestions for me.
I ended up entering the competition--and presented my research through a dramatic monologue as Madame Curie, Polish accent and all.
I came in third in the regional competition, and felt confident enough I could win at the state level.
And I did--I came in third place in my category.
But only first and second place could go to nationals.
Needless to say, I was crushed.
The following morning, a Sunday, I got a phone call, at home, from Mrs. P. She asked how I was feeling, and I told her I still was pretty upset. But she told me that things would get better, and soon.
They did get better, indeed. Two days later our class left for our annual trip to Washington, DC--and the teachers chose me and another student to lay a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.
I never, ever thought I'd do something of that magnitude when I was in 7th grade.
Mrs. P. really helped me come out of my shell. She helped instill a sense of confidence and determination in me that I didn't know I had. She gave me the tools to do better in school and develop my potential.
Her classroom became a sanctuary for me. I'd hang out there a couple of times a week after school, and we'd chat while I did my homework and she corrected papers.
I ended up going to another high school the following year, and we eventually lost touch. Occasionally, throughout the years, I'd think about Mrs. P. and wondered what she was up to.
But this week, I've thought about her. A lot.
A friend of mine says that this happens to her quite a bit. She regards this as a sign that such a person needs to have a prayer said for them. And nine times out of ten, something happens to that person. Something significant, either good or bad.
So tonight, I said a prayer. I am really, really contemplating getting back in touch. Just sending a letter, or a Christmas card, saying how I am and what I've been up to since my 8th grade year. Just a thank you note would do.
But a part of me is very nervous about this. Is this the right thing to do? I found my second grade teacher a couple of years ago, another woman who had a significant impact on me, and wrote to her, but she never wrote back.
And then another part of me worries that she's ill and doesn't have the physical capacity to write back.
I'd better stop this, because I'm going around in circles, and it's very late. So let me conclude by asking you this, kittens: Have you ever told someone from your past how much they really meant to you? And when you did, were you able to do so before it was too late?
Monday, October 18, 2010
The Queen's Meme: The Threes Meme
I couldn't resist this one...after all, I was born on the third day of the third month!
3. Where were you 3 hours ago?
At home, checking E-mail, then getting ready for my Zumba class.
3. Is there anything pink within 3 feet of you?
Why, yes there is! A pink and grey striped blanket, and my pink and white blazer.
3. Name the 3 scariest places in the world.
My office (very messy), the woods behind my house, and the north end of town.
3. Name the 3 loveliest sights you've seen lately.
The changing leaves on the trees (LOVE New England), a gorgeous sunset, and the stars in the autumn night sky. I guess I'm a bit of a nature freak lately.
3. Name the top 3 Bands in the year you were born.
KISS, the Eagles, and ABBA
3. Walk to your front door. Go outside and get in your car. Drive 3 miles East. Describe 3 things you saw on your way.
The Price Chopper/Home Depot shopping plaza, the Walgreen's next door to the CVS, and the local university campus.
3. I, Queen Mimi, have sentenced you to a 3-day diet of your most sinful cravings.
What will you be partaking?
Pirate's Booty (that stuff is AMAZING and soooo much better than Cheetos), chocolate flavored peanut butter, and macaroni and cheese. Yummm...
3. Go back to question #3. Change the first word to "travel" and let me know if you survived.
OK, I cleaned up the office...that wasn't too bad...then I went into the woods behind my house and nearly got eaten alive by a raccoon...but that prepared me for surviving the north end of town--barely.
Mimi, pass the Pirate's Booty and mac and cheese, please...
3. Where were you 3 hours ago?
At home, checking E-mail, then getting ready for my Zumba class.
3. Is there anything pink within 3 feet of you?
Why, yes there is! A pink and grey striped blanket, and my pink and white blazer.
3. Name the 3 scariest places in the world.
My office (very messy), the woods behind my house, and the north end of town.
3. Name the 3 loveliest sights you've seen lately.
The changing leaves on the trees (LOVE New England), a gorgeous sunset, and the stars in the autumn night sky. I guess I'm a bit of a nature freak lately.
3. Name the top 3 Bands in the year you were born.
KISS, the Eagles, and ABBA
3. Walk to your front door. Go outside and get in your car. Drive 3 miles East. Describe 3 things you saw on your way.
The Price Chopper/Home Depot shopping plaza, the Walgreen's next door to the CVS, and the local university campus.
3. I, Queen Mimi, have sentenced you to a 3-day diet of your most sinful cravings.
What will you be partaking?
Pirate's Booty (that stuff is AMAZING and soooo much better than Cheetos), chocolate flavored peanut butter, and macaroni and cheese. Yummm...
3. Go back to question #3. Change the first word to "travel" and let me know if you survived.
OK, I cleaned up the office...that wasn't too bad...then I went into the woods behind my house and nearly got eaten alive by a raccoon...but that prepared me for surviving the north end of town--barely.
Mimi, pass the Pirate's Booty and mac and cheese, please...
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
30 days of truth: Day Twelve
Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.
That would be my eyes.
I have Bambi eyes, and when I put my face on in the morning, they're the part I really accentuate.
Yet no one ever notes how nice they are.
Would anyone do so if they were blue, grey, hazel, green?
I dunno.
And I wouldn't wanna know.
Because I like my eyes!
That would be my eyes.
I have Bambi eyes, and when I put my face on in the morning, they're the part I really accentuate.
Yet no one ever notes how nice they are.
Would anyone do so if they were blue, grey, hazel, green?
I dunno.
And I wouldn't wanna know.
Because I like my eyes!
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
30 days of truth: Day Eleven
Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
That would be my hair.
As you know, it's naturally curly. Since I was a kid, I have received raves about my ringlets.
However, like most curly girls, I'd do anything to straighten it.
I've learned to accept my curls, and am quite proud of them.
I just wish all curly girls would be as content as I am.
That would be my hair.
As you know, it's naturally curly. Since I was a kid, I have received raves about my ringlets.
However, like most curly girls, I'd do anything to straighten it.
I've learned to accept my curls, and am quite proud of them.
I just wish all curly girls would be as content as I am.
Monday, October 11, 2010
30 days of truth: Day Ten
Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
I knew a girl from college who never really got the idea that I didn't want to be her "best" friend. A "good" friend, yes, but not a BFF.
On SNL, Kristen Wiig plays a character named Penelope, who one-ups everything that people brag about. For example, if a mother says that her baby can say "dada" and "mama", Penelope will say that her kid was fluent in two languages by her first birthday.
That's the way this "friend" has been to me. She always insists on getting her way; she hardly takes suggestions from anyone, and if she does, she'll lecture us on how our ideas aren't as good.
We lost touch for quite a few years. Then she friended me on Facebook. She's not very active on her account--and then, suddenly, she posted on my wall the other day. "Let's get together soon!"
I'm not sure how to respond to that one.
I knew a girl from college who never really got the idea that I didn't want to be her "best" friend. A "good" friend, yes, but not a BFF.
On SNL, Kristen Wiig plays a character named Penelope, who one-ups everything that people brag about. For example, if a mother says that her baby can say "dada" and "mama", Penelope will say that her kid was fluent in two languages by her first birthday.
That's the way this "friend" has been to me. She always insists on getting her way; she hardly takes suggestions from anyone, and if she does, she'll lecture us on how our ideas aren't as good.
We lost touch for quite a few years. Then she friended me on Facebook. She's not very active on her account--and then, suddenly, she posted on my wall the other day. "Let's get together soon!"
I'm not sure how to respond to that one.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
30 days of truth: Day Nine
Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
That would be the person whom I refer to as "BFF" throughout the blog.
We've drifted apart in the last several months, and here are the reasons why:
But you know what? I've come to terms with our drift...well, I'm getting better at it. There are still some days where I miss picking up the phone and calling at random.
But he's moved on.
And I know I am, too.
That would be the person whom I refer to as "BFF" throughout the blog.
We've drifted apart in the last several months, and here are the reasons why:
- He's in a steady relationship. Lately he and his partner have been spending time with other couples, especially his partner's friends. I am not a part of a couple.
- He spends his time with his friends' kids. I don't have any children.
- He wants to start a family. I don't think I want to have children.
- We're both really invested in our careers.
But you know what? I've come to terms with our drift...well, I'm getting better at it. There are still some days where I miss picking up the phone and calling at random.
But he's moved on.
And I know I am, too.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
30 days of truth: Day Eight
Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
That would be the boss I had when I worked at a resort the summer before I went to college.
I won't say much, because it can be explained succinctly:
I didn't learn about this until about two summers ago.
And I am thankful for what Mama did for me.
That would be the boss I had when I worked at a resort the summer before I went to college.
I won't say much, because it can be explained succinctly:
- Worked shifts from 7 AM till 10:30 PM, with only two half-hour breaks.
- Worked for minimum wage--which, at the time, was $4.25 an hour. By the time I left at the end of August, my rate went up to $5.25 an hour.
- Whenever we closed down for the night, I always ended up on bathroom duty. And the toilets were RARELY clean.
I didn't learn about this until about two summers ago.
And I am thankful for what Mama did for me.
Friday, October 8, 2010
30 days of truth: Day Seven
Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Hmmm...this is a tough one. Obviously my family has made my life worth living for. So have my friends. But just one person to choose? I can't! So I'll go with my first answer. My friends and family keep me in line and have helped shape me to be the person I am.
Hmmm...this is a tough one. Obviously my family has made my life worth living for. So have my friends. But just one person to choose? I can't! So I'll go with my first answer. My friends and family keep me in line and have helped shape me to be the person I am.
30 days of truth: Day Six
Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.
I could answer this question simply, by saying something like, "I hope I never have to go to jail," or, "I hope I never get arrested," or, "I hope I never have to clean the gutters on a house."
But I'll stay serious.
I hope I never have to become so morbidly obese that I need assistance in everyday life. I hope I never have to use an electric scooter to go grocery shopping, to lose my balance when walking, to gasp for breath when coming up the stairs.
I was heading that route--and fast.
So I had to make some changes.
I've lost 17 pounds so far, but still have a way to go.
A friend of mine is scheduled for bariatric surgery soon. She praised me for my weight loss, and then looked me in the eye, and said, "Don't become like me."
I know I can get healthy.
I could answer this question simply, by saying something like, "I hope I never have to go to jail," or, "I hope I never get arrested," or, "I hope I never have to clean the gutters on a house."
But I'll stay serious.
I hope I never have to become so morbidly obese that I need assistance in everyday life. I hope I never have to use an electric scooter to go grocery shopping, to lose my balance when walking, to gasp for breath when coming up the stairs.
I was heading that route--and fast.
So I had to make some changes.
I've lost 17 pounds so far, but still have a way to go.
A friend of mine is scheduled for bariatric surgery soon. She praised me for my weight loss, and then looked me in the eye, and said, "Don't become like me."
I know I can get healthy.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
30 days of truth: Day Five
Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.
After college I had several friends either enter the Peace Corps or the Jesuit Volunteer Corps. I've always wanted to engage in a long-term volunteer project in an urban area or a third-world country, but just never have had the time or opportunity.
That, and Papa Cat made it clear upon receipt of my diploma, that "I. Would. Get. A. Job."
Well, retirement's only about 30 years away for me!
After college I had several friends either enter the Peace Corps or the Jesuit Volunteer Corps. I've always wanted to engage in a long-term volunteer project in an urban area or a third-world country, but just never have had the time or opportunity.
That, and Papa Cat made it clear upon receipt of my diploma, that "I. Would. Get. A. Job."
Well, retirement's only about 30 years away for me!
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
30 days of truth: Day Four
Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.
This is a really difficult one for me, because I am a pretty forgiving person towards other people. I am the person I find myself most difficult to forgive.
Basically, I have to forgive certain people for their perfectionism. This is coming from someone who considers herself a recovering perfectionist. I just can't understand why people tend to obsess over the most minute details in their lives. I learned a long time ago (okay, maybe not THAT long ago) that there are MANY circumstances in our lives we can't control. And from those circumstances, I believe, is where humans learn their greatest lessons.
I have some friends who are so afraid of letting go that they can't take even one day off from work. I don't know why I let this bother me so. Maybe it's because I let myself get so run down at one point in my career that I wound up in the hospital for three days.
Please note that I say "recovering perfectionist". I still pride myself on my attention to detail.
But I'd like to think that I'm better about it than I used to be.
This is a really difficult one for me, because I am a pretty forgiving person towards other people. I am the person I find myself most difficult to forgive.
Basically, I have to forgive certain people for their perfectionism. This is coming from someone who considers herself a recovering perfectionist. I just can't understand why people tend to obsess over the most minute details in their lives. I learned a long time ago (okay, maybe not THAT long ago) that there are MANY circumstances in our lives we can't control. And from those circumstances, I believe, is where humans learn their greatest lessons.
I have some friends who are so afraid of letting go that they can't take even one day off from work. I don't know why I let this bother me so. Maybe it's because I let myself get so run down at one point in my career that I wound up in the hospital for three days.
Please note that I say "recovering perfectionist". I still pride myself on my attention to detail.
But I'd like to think that I'm better about it than I used to be.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
30 days of truth: Day Three
Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.
This past July, I attended a wedding of a longtime college friend. BFF was there, along with several other friends that I hadn't seen for a long time.
Long story short, I met a guy. I liked the guy. Guy didn't ask me for my contact information. I took my misery out on BFF.
Basically, I have to forgive myself for letting my emotions get in the way of enjoying what was otherwise a very lovely day. Everyone else in attendance has forgiven me for what I did--I just wish I could forgive myself.
This past July, I attended a wedding of a longtime college friend. BFF was there, along with several other friends that I hadn't seen for a long time.
Long story short, I met a guy. I liked the guy. Guy didn't ask me for my contact information. I took my misery out on BFF.
Basically, I have to forgive myself for letting my emotions get in the way of enjoying what was otherwise a very lovely day. Everyone else in attendance has forgiven me for what I did--I just wish I could forgive myself.
Monday, October 4, 2010
30 days of truth: Day Two
Day 02 → Something you love about yourself.
I love my eyes and my hair. I have short, bobbed, naturally curly, dark brown hair. Some would say it's black, but if I go out into the sun, you can see reddish-brown highlights. True black hair does not have any highlights.
I also have big brown, wide eyes to match my hair. They're the part of my face I play up the most when I put on makeup. Eyes are the windows to the soul, and you can tell a lot about me just by looking in my eyes. They alone will tell you how I'm feeling. They express my emotions in ways that words never can.
I love my eyes and my hair. I have short, bobbed, naturally curly, dark brown hair. Some would say it's black, but if I go out into the sun, you can see reddish-brown highlights. True black hair does not have any highlights.
I also have big brown, wide eyes to match my hair. They're the part of my face I play up the most when I put on makeup. Eyes are the windows to the soul, and you can tell a lot about me just by looking in my eyes. They alone will tell you how I'm feeling. They express my emotions in ways that words never can.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
30 days of truth: Day One
Various bloggers I follow have done this challenge. I have no idea where it originated, or who did, but now I'm jumping on the bandwagon, in an effort to get back to posting.
And awaaaaaayy we go...
Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself.
I am my own worst critic. You know how some people are able to let the little things roll off their backs? I'm not one of those people. I tend to obsess over things that I've done wrong. I never forget any mistake I've made. Well, okay, that statement is an exaggeration, but too many times I make mountains out of molehills.
Through talk therapy and medication, I've become a lot better about this self-criticism, but it's an ongoing battle. At least I no longer feel like Sisyphus, constantly pushing the rock up the hill, only to watch it roll back to the bottom.
And awaaaaaayy we go...
Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself.
I am my own worst critic. You know how some people are able to let the little things roll off their backs? I'm not one of those people. I tend to obsess over things that I've done wrong. I never forget any mistake I've made. Well, okay, that statement is an exaggeration, but too many times I make mountains out of molehills.
Through talk therapy and medication, I've become a lot better about this self-criticism, but it's an ongoing battle. At least I no longer feel like Sisyphus, constantly pushing the rock up the hill, only to watch it roll back to the bottom.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Lately I've been dreaming...
...about my college days.
If I were to post this on Facebook, I would say that I didn't know why.
But the truth is, I do know why.
A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to attend a workshop at my undergraduate institution. It's the kind of place where, every time I visit, I feel like I'm coming home. It will always have a special place in my heart.
But things have changed. A lot. There's so much construction on campus. My residence hall from senior year is being gutted and turned into apartments. Lots of new residence halls are being constructed. No new academic buildings are being constructed, though. The campus is now very crowded.
That was a very bittersweet feeling--walking around campus and seeing that everything was different. Lots of trees were cut down to make room for the new buildings. It wasn't the place where I went to school.
And then, over the past several nights, I've been dreaming about my undergrad days. And it's not just because of my visit there...lately I've been awash in many memories of the past.
It's inevitable in life that you drift apart from some friends, while making new ones. Some people leave your lives temporarily, only to return again, unexpectedly. Some people are meant to be in your lives forever, others only for a short time.
I'm in touch with quite a few of my college friends, but have grown apart from a lot of them, too. And lately, I've been really missing several of them. Some of them I've been missing so much that one of my dreams this week was about what my college life would have been like if I wasn't friends with the people I was friends with in college and beyond. Things were different. Very different.
I have one friend in particular whom I've known since freshman year. Lately our lives have taken completely different directions. My friend wants a family, and hangs out with her spouse's friends, mostly. I'm not quite headed in that direction yet. And I have another friend who's headed in the same direction; he hangs out primarily with his partner, his friends, and their kids.
And that leaves me...well, headed down another path.
And that's okay.
Sometimes I dream about college when I yearn for simpler times. For example, as much as I love to watch/read the news, I just can't watch it lately. Especially the election season here in Connecticut. Arrgh, too much stress...
Sometimes it just plain sucks to be an adult...
Other times, I'm pretty damn glad to be one. I look back at my senior year, and remember the feelings of bittersweetness. I didn't want to leave campus, but I also felt like I was trapped in a bubble. That protective bubble of the university gates. I was ready to move on, but at the same time, scared of what I'd face in the real world.
Well, it's time for bed now, ironically enough...what will I dream about tonight?
If I were to post this on Facebook, I would say that I didn't know why.
But the truth is, I do know why.
A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to attend a workshop at my undergraduate institution. It's the kind of place where, every time I visit, I feel like I'm coming home. It will always have a special place in my heart.
But things have changed. A lot. There's so much construction on campus. My residence hall from senior year is being gutted and turned into apartments. Lots of new residence halls are being constructed. No new academic buildings are being constructed, though. The campus is now very crowded.
That was a very bittersweet feeling--walking around campus and seeing that everything was different. Lots of trees were cut down to make room for the new buildings. It wasn't the place where I went to school.
And then, over the past several nights, I've been dreaming about my undergrad days. And it's not just because of my visit there...lately I've been awash in many memories of the past.
It's inevitable in life that you drift apart from some friends, while making new ones. Some people leave your lives temporarily, only to return again, unexpectedly. Some people are meant to be in your lives forever, others only for a short time.
I'm in touch with quite a few of my college friends, but have grown apart from a lot of them, too. And lately, I've been really missing several of them. Some of them I've been missing so much that one of my dreams this week was about what my college life would have been like if I wasn't friends with the people I was friends with in college and beyond. Things were different. Very different.
I have one friend in particular whom I've known since freshman year. Lately our lives have taken completely different directions. My friend wants a family, and hangs out with her spouse's friends, mostly. I'm not quite headed in that direction yet. And I have another friend who's headed in the same direction; he hangs out primarily with his partner, his friends, and their kids.
And that leaves me...well, headed down another path.
And that's okay.
Sometimes I dream about college when I yearn for simpler times. For example, as much as I love to watch/read the news, I just can't watch it lately. Especially the election season here in Connecticut. Arrgh, too much stress...
Sometimes it just plain sucks to be an adult...
Other times, I'm pretty damn glad to be one. I look back at my senior year, and remember the feelings of bittersweetness. I didn't want to leave campus, but I also felt like I was trapped in a bubble. That protective bubble of the university gates. I was ready to move on, but at the same time, scared of what I'd face in the real world.
Well, it's time for bed now, ironically enough...what will I dream about tonight?
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