LOVE/ENABLING--WHATEVER!!

      So I had this teeny thought:

Is Love the New Enabling, or Is Enabling the New Love?

          This occurs in relation to my adult daughter, whom I love/enable fiercely.  Because she has been mentally in pain for so many years, she often encountered financial as well as emotional problems.  The Enabling took the form of money given to her to bail her out of this or that debt crisis.  What could I do but pour out the dollars, often when that was all the gifting I could provide her?  She couldn’t/wouldn’t handle being with me so that I could provide treasures of hugs.  I wanted to give her a place to live (with me) so that those hugs were nearby, and so she had fewer bills and debts.

         And then the dreaded word ENABLING reared its ugly accusing head.  I wasn’t REALLY helping her (really?)….I was just reinforcing her need to be needy, not helping her to fish on her own, taking away her power to take care of her own problems, blah blah blah.

         Well, I still kept the trickle (sometimes a river) of money going her way.  The money flow was accompanied by encouraging words and occasional meals together at her local diner in the city….which endeared itself to me by its ragtag ambience, booths repaired with duct tape, and nonstop coffee refills, even if in well-worn mugs.  That diner became special to me:  we met there, we visited there, we shared a meal and some real-time conversation there.

         After years with her city job, and apartment woes (rent still needs to be paid on poorly maintained apartments too), she cried “Uncle”…..or in this case “Mom”.  She was going through a severe anxiety/depression crisis which interfered drastically with her ability to work…often to even leave her apartment and commute to work, let alone function when she got there.

         The real shocker for me was her revelation that the city had lost its charms for her, as in living there.  For years she abhorred her suburban roots and seemed  content in her urban life.  Its charms disappeared as her disability to work crashed through. 

         We tentatively tried living together early Winter 2014, when I had surgery and needed help.  Moving out of her city studio and into my rental one-bedroom apartment was a huge step for her---and for me.  Was this gigantic ENABLING?  Probably.  But it didn’t feel wrong---and she was a great help to me in those early months after my shoulder replacement.

         So after six months, the trial period ended, and we moved into a two-bedroom, two-bathroom (both deal-breaker features) apartment back in the suburb where she had grown up, and where I felt most at home.  (This fine suburb also boasted a killer library, another deal-breaker where I was concerned.)

         We adopted a kitten soon after we settled in, and we love her madly, even when she is dashing around during her daily “crazy time”.  We just renewed our yearly lease.  We are amazed and amused and appreciative that this situation works so wonderfully for us.  Oh, and we share all our expenses.

         For now, we can ENABLE each other!  Enabling never felt so loving!

WEIGHTY SUBJECT—MONTH ONE

So one month ago, I dared to weigh in publicly

 on this blog—just checked 

and to my joy, it was a hefty 234 lbs.

(Joy?) BECAUSE—
Today I have a better tonnage: <<<230 lbs="">>>

So that's four pounds less!

And I made only one small change:

I stopped having one or two

large glasses of

Moscato wine (a sweet wine)

every night.

I made (so far) no changes 

in my eating—and

alas, no discernible exercise.

I DID however, 

remove my fuzzy socks

before I weighed in—

hence, the attractive

bare feet and polish-less

toenails (winter toes).

But I have a scale

that's very worn out

and can be manipulated

all too easily—

a different weight each time.

SOOOOO...

As Dr Seuss might say,

I weighed me on the mat

and got a dream weight that

couldn't REALLY count (drat!):

But nevertheless,

as you might guess,

I'm not a mess,

and will say a hearty "YES"..

to a new small "tweak"

for the coming weeks:

Are you ready? Ahem..

NO EATING AFTER NINE PM!

Since I usually stay up late

this may really help my weight—

and if I start to feel squirrely—

I'll just go to bed early!

A Tale of Two Sisters

"It was the best of times,

it was the worst of times"

(Charles Dickens said so)…

It was the best of an older sister,

(glamorous and wise)

it was the not-so-worst of a younger sister,

(adorable and eager to learn)

(I just said so).

It was A Tale of Two Sisters!!!

No, no not THESE Two Sisters:

(by way of the movie epic "Frozen")

And not THESE "Two Sisters"

(by way of Auguste Renoir):

BUT (wait for it)...

THESE "Two Sisters"

by way of the Montesano Family—

Kathie and Mary Rose

 Yes, here they are—

 Senior Goddess Supreme Kathie 

(as in SGS41)

and Junior Goddess Supreme Mary Rose

(Photo taken circa 1967—do the math)

Yes, my darling baby sister,

nearly 21 years younger than me

"could have been my daughter",

as I heard so often.

But—surprise!

She was way better than a daughter—

She was a soul mate

and best friend

without any parental angst.

She was the best baby sitter

for my kids Matt and Niki and Jeff--

who then became her best friends

(only ten years apart in age).

Her kids were more than 

my adored nephew Steven and niece Alicia—

they were indeed like grandchildren

who I could indulge

ten years before my own grandkids

(Jake, Rosie, and Bella)

happily happened in my life.

And so she remains today…

My baby sister, my dearest friend….

throughout all the pages of our lives…

A Tale of Two Sisters….

A Tale Without End.

Keeping Our Home Fires Burning!

My daughter Niki and I 

were very pleased to see

 that our new apartment 

had a fine-looking fireplace……

until we actually realized,

during our first cold days in November,

that we didn't want

REAL fires that required

real wood

real tools

real removal of ashes

real viligance with our lively cat

in residence.

Soooooo….we improvised

and even economized

with this 

cheery low-maintenance

non-fire blaze of light….

thanks to a string of mini-lights

and a strategic mirror

(can you spot it?)….

with the fun option

to keep it lit

with many other color choices….

the lovely year 

long!

11-12-14 "Who Are You Wearing?

On the Red Carpet,

celebrities are asked 

that snarky catch phrase:

 "Who Are You Wearing?"

My childhood self

would have mumbled shamefully

"Sears Husky". 

We fat children of the 1950's 

wore "Husky" sizes—really!

Now, most retail stores 

designate

 "Plus" sizes for girls

 and "Husky" sizes for boys.

Hmmm…...so good

we live in a more sensitive time.

  In the U.K., these sizes 

are marked "Outsize" for all.

For chubby adult women,

there are "Women" and "Plus" sizes;

for the fat men,

there is the "Big" designation.

But we really need a label for

"sad and fat"

or

"make my body invisible"

or

"pretending to be thin"

START WORKING ON THAT,

ALL YOU P.R. PEOPLE!

While we hid out under our 

"Women" "Plus' bodies

along with our "Big" comrades.

When I could shop for smaller sizes,

I wanted to shout out,

"Look everybody, look where I'm shopping!"

Now ordering online becomes

that more appealing.

And it uses up less calories.

11-11-14 "I Read the News Today"

So I woke up today

 with the first line of a Beatles' song 

bouncing around my brain cells. 

 It wasn't until 

I stepped on my (very dusty) 

bathroom scale 

that it all made horrible sense...…

Yep, "I Read the News Today Oh Boy"…..

So now, dear Readers, 

I draw you into 

 My Nasty Predicament.  

What predicament?  

To dial down that number, 

that accusing number, 

that number that always haunts me. 

 But, see, to dial down that number means 

MINDFUL EATING AND

 MINDFUL MOVING AROUND 

(" aka "Exercise")

Back to my Predicament—

I love to eat (mindlessly)

and I have a body designed 

to fiercely protect the many calories 

I throw into it. 

That results in a lifetime 

of chubbiness 

and all the shame that goes along with it.

And the other part of my predicament, 

I hate to move around (exercise) 

When other children visit a park-

they scramble over to the playground. 

 Me, I scramble (well, saunter) over

 to the nearest bench and read.

You see the problem.

Now, a Great Irony 

(God has such a sense of humor):

Arthritis has invaded most of my body,

 and that extra weight makes it worse. 

 Sigh.

I tried what in my mind 

was "a quick fix" in April 2005—

I had a bariatric bypass.  

Yes, I had my anatomy drastically altered 

to "solve" my problem. 

 At the time of the surgery, 

I weighed 278 pounds. 

 I lost 110 pounds over the next year.

And I've been slowly and horribly

 gaining it all back.  

If you set your mind to it,

 this can be done.  

Too much eating and too little exercise 

will put that flab back.

Sigh.

So I've had both knees replaced. 

 I've had my right shoulder replaced.

 I must have worn out my rotator cuff

 with all that food-to-mouth movement.

Now I walk in pain 

because the arthritis is invading my back.  

And the weight still keeps on coming.  

It's very evident 

that the weight is a real pain—

all I need to do is pick up a gallon of milk,

 and watch all my arthritic body parts 

"weigh in". (pun intended)

So, Gentle Reader,

 I begin today in my quest

 to reverse the flab festival.  

Anyone who has seen the movie "Wall-E"

 recalls that the futuristic lifestyle 

has everyone packing on the pounds 

as they loll around all day

 on little lounge chairs, 

with all their food brought to them. 

 Exercise of any sort is forbidden.  

The lifestyle looks great to me:

HOWEVER, "I've Read The News Today—

OH BOY!"

  

OCT 26 "HERE KITTY KITTY"--

We have the world's cutest cat…

Mathilda, who is now an adorable 7 months old.  

She just DRIPS with personality, 

and definitely fits into 

the tenor of our household 

(which consists of my daughter Niki and Moi).  

You think I am exaggerating—

everyone brags about their kids and pets (yawn).  

Well, she has some quirks 

that can only be explained 

as her absorbing my goddess rays 

and other unusual wave lengths 

in our household.

MATHILDA IS A BAG LADY

          Target is her preferred store—

and please note that her Target enclosure 

is politically correct 

(no evil plastic for THIS environmental feline).

MATHILDA ADORES BOXES          

as well as the fun wrapping paper.  

She creates endless varieties 

of enclosures, hidey holes 

and throne rooms

 for her stalking and sitting pleasure.

MATHILDA IS A CREEPY STALKER

and just who is she stalking?

That would be ME, in the privacy of my privy,

which somehow is private no more.

She cannot abide a door closing her out, 

especially a bathroom door.

MATHILDA CURLS UP WITH A GOOD BOOK

 She joins me at the end of my day,

propped up with my latest book.  

The book, no matter how wonderful,

eventually puts her—and me—to sleep.

And so the book (and cat) 

tumble to the floor—

all a part of our nighttime ritual.

That Mathilda—

she knocks things over, 

tears around on some crazed mission,

imposes her furry self everywhere

(including the bathroom door),

completely

rules the house….

 and our hearts.

Oct 8 Birth of a Goddess

Well, almost a month 

since my last blog. 

 You must have given up on me! 

 My intention is still a weekly blog

….sigh.

You may have wondered 

how I achieved the lofty title

 of Senior Goddess Supreme (or not).  

Well, during the days and years 

when I needed many "Aha" moments 

(an Oprah thing—

some lifesaving insight 

crashing into your soul), 

I read several daily meditations.  

 This at the very least delayed 

my getting to work….

but my several career choices 

will be subject for another blog.

ANYWAY, in the Oprah-touted book

  Simple Abundance 

(making a gratitude journal, etc.),

 I came across an "aha"

 which I retain to this very day. 

 One dreary February 3rd 

twenty years ago, 

the book exhorted me to be

 "open to change". 

 Well, I was always clutching at change

 in those years, 

so I fiercely took the next insight 

into my thirsty soul:

     "….WE ARE GIVING BIRTH TO GODDESSES…"

Well, OK!  

From that aha moment on, 

I was self-appointed Goddess

….it somehow felt right.  

And because of my (ahem)

 advancing years, 

I am now a Senior Goddess.  

And if I'm going to be a Goddess, 

I may as well be Supreme.

So there you go (or I go):

SENIOR GODDESS SUPREME,

with my birth year, 41, 

to finish off my title.

Some years into my goddess-ship (?),

 I came across this delightful poster, 

which really validated

that I should continue

 to "embrace the Goddess" 

within me.  

I've had a checkered career 

of careers, 

and certain job skills just plain eluded me.

(before the computer 

and the wonderful "delete" key existed). 

I could be bright and interesting 

and punctual and willing to work, 

but I just was never 

the most enthusiastic or accurate 

typist.  

And then I was validated:

    The jaunty message 

        next to this whimsical depiction of me is:  

       I DO MUCH BETTER

 AS A GODDESS,

   SHE SAID, 

      SINCE MY SECRETARIAL SKILLS

      HAVE ALWAYS BEEN LIMITED.

    So declareth me, myself, 

SGS41.

   

MY BOX SEAT

So our kitty Mathilda loves to be "boxed in".  

Her latest home away from home 

is the above Amazon packing box, 

which seems to REALLY please her. 

(Cats must be really pleased at all times!)  

This may have to do with its compact size.  

Hmm, 

since I tend to take everything in my life

 and relate it back to me somehow, 

I wonder about MY favored "box".

It seems to be the right-most

 sofa cushion, 

with my lamp and end table,

pile of books, 

remote controls

to the TV and DVD player,

cup holder for coffee, 

end table for wine, 

notepad for reminders 

and other brilliant musings,

 pens for same purpose, 

cell phone and charger, 

glasses, 

              kleenex,

                             ottoman,

….oh, and my LAPTOP—

the best appliance EVER!

Well, here it is, my Comfort Station….

which is

 an important adjunct

 to my BOX SEAT

….the best part of the day

…the best seat in the house…

With that basket of books,

remote controls,

lovely laptop,

cute lil cell phone,

I have untold adventures,

travel anywhere,

see anything,
purchase anything (dangerous),

talk to anyone I want to talk to….

IT'S ALL MEEEEE—NOW!

SEPT 1ST—LABOR DAY LOLLING!

Well, my daily blog never materialized….

my weekly blog even fell apart.  

But I'm BACK!  

It's Labor Day, first day of September, 

and a good day to jump back into blogging.

Something Niki said last evening:

   "We spend way too much time talking about the cat."

This is our cat Mathilda,

with us since end of May, 

cute as, 

well, 

a kitten of five months can be:

She is mostly great fun and cuddly and cute—

——except when she's not.

Like when she tears around our apartment,

attacking the blinds on the windows,

climbing the walls (yes, it's not just a cliche),

drinking any liquid in any open vessel,

stalking bugs—real or imaginary,

pretty much--like Superman--

leaping at buildings (sort of)

in a single bound.

When she's being precious, 

or at least not kittenish and lively,

we laugh at the various spots she chooses

to "hang out",

as if that particular corner or area

had been assigned to her.

These spots include:

cushions and throws

cushy humans-- 

baskets resembling cushy humans

any kind of box,

 packing paper optional but highly desirable

—and just about anywhere else

that is her assignment/project

for the moment.

See what I mean?

Two weeks since my last blog—

and THIS is the only thing

 on my mind/keyboard?

*****Meow!*****

Well, actually she doesn't "meow" 

as much as squeak

in the cutest way….

so

cute

and

adorable

and

kittenish.

*****Squeak!*****

AUG 19TH—SOUL DANCING!

So a dear friend gave me these earrings 

for my recent July birthday…..

Cute—right?  

Dancing person dangling from my ears!

I wear them every day…

…because it reminds me 

that I am dancing on the inside, 

even if 

I'm walking slowly 

on the outside….

I imagine that 

all the plodding seniors I see 

are doing a slight twirl or whirl

 in their soul….

that's where the real celebrating 

and joyous motion 

counts!