Resolutions are easily made and easily broken. I’ve gone down that road before, and this year, the only resolution-type thing I’ve got is getting up on time. Mostly because it just got way out of control last year.

Goals, however, are another matter, and I’ve given mine a lot of thought. I’m on the right path- most of these are obvious and unchanged. Keep working on my degree (long term), get into Western Carolina University (short term). Keep my job (short term) and continue to position myself via my performance and shrewd politics for a steady upward path in my company (long term). Keep writing (short term), while dreaming and planning for the time in my life when I can pursue more opportunities in it (long term). Have as much fun as possible (short term), while keeping my eyes and heart open to a future with someone (way long term).

My only hard and fast goal for this year is to apply for admission and be accepted to Western Carolina University for the fall term. First, I must conquer my x = death, pestilence and famine issues. Second, I must summon transcripts and certificates from three or four different places. Third, I believe I have to write an essay. Fourth, I’m pretty sure there’s a strip search and a urine sample required. It is quite the undertaking, and as luck would have it, my only class for the spring term is French, and it’s a campus/internet hybrid. Here’s to hoping that scoring A’s in Intermediate Accounting and Entrepreneurship assured that my GPA meets their requirements, which if memory serves is 3.5 or better.

Execution has become a problem for me in the past year, and I’ve grown so very tired of putting out fires and flying by the seat of my pants.

My theme for 2010: Be Good to Yourself.

Not in that have another piece of cake, you really can afford that purchase, you deserve a mental health day type of way.

More like getting enough sleep, having enough fun, eating higher quality food, making a point of being active without torturing myself about it, doing what I’m supposed to when I’m supposed to so I’m not so stressed out waiting for something to slip through the cracks.

I’ve survived, and now it’s time to thrive.

Don’t you think?

The wind was bitter and the cold damp air reminded me more of winter than fall. The color was incredible, though the pictures don’t do it justice because it was so dark. Adicus and I played fetch and took pictures all afternoon. Cruising down the parkway, with the dog in the back seat, familiar music on the radio. Except I’m in the driver’s seat now. It feels good, stopping when I want for however long I want, and heavy with responsibility.

When I stop at the Linn Cove Viaduct, I’m greeted with light snow. It occurs to me that going over Mount Mitchell on the Parkway may not be the safest way to get to Asheville. I debate as I drive. When I got to NC 80, the Park Service was just shutting the gates.  We came into Old Fort, got on I-40 and drove back to Haywood County, bringing a cold rain with us.

Despite the weather, it was a wonderful trip, and it gave me back my sense of wonder and brought me that sense of deep comfort, of fitting into my miniscule place in the world. As I sat in my cozy house that night, with the dog in my lap, the dull ache of accomplishment filled me from the toes up.

Sunday was bitter cold, and I spent most of the day dutifully holding the couch down. I settled in for a nap some time around three. At five, someone honked their car horn from my driveway, softly, tentatively, and the honking and subsequent barking and jumping around woke me out of a dead drooling sleep.

Still dressed in my pjs, I answered the door. I had bedhead and sleep lines. It was not a pretty sight, I’m sure.

My very sweet, very pretty, very well kept housewife neighbor was standing at my porch door. She had a big pile of silver shiny things. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. I smiled at her and resisted the urge to stretch. She was talking. Something about honking the horn to keep from startling me?

They were having a birthday party for her daughter. She thought I might like a plate. She knows how hard it is to cook for one. She’s been there. She’s been thinking of me. I should come up for coffee sometime. I am smiling and nodding and saying thank you, and saying something about always cooking too much food, when I bother. She is noticing my hair and my decision not to dress for the day and she’s still smiling and she’s handing me the plates, covered in foil, and I’m thanking her and agreeing with her about the coffee, and she’s talking about getting back to her company, and I’m smiling and waving as she gets back in her car.

Adicus and I come into the house and I put the plates on the kitchen counter. I stretch and fix my hair, and Adicus wants to go outside, so I let him out. I sit for a minute on the porch and try to process what has just occured, but I’m not sharp enough yet. My stomach growls, so I go into the kitchen and warm up the first plate in the microwave for a minute or two, and I sit down on the couch with a glass of juice and this plate. A few pieces of honey baked ham, corn and green beans, and a yeast roll. I’m eating, and as I start to eat, I start to cry. I’m still very disorientated at this moment, and I put the plate down for a minute and cry harder, then wipe my eyes and blow my nose and look bewildered at this ham and wonder why the fuck I’m crying because Noelle brought me a plate?

As I start to eat again, I realize. I realize that the last time I had honey baked ham was when the neighbor ladies came to my sister’s house after Mark’s service. I remember them piling a plate high for both of us, and insisting that my sister have seconds. I remember hating this for my sister, the death ham, so sweet, and we were starving, but it’s death food, every bit of it, brought by kind souls who think of you in concern and pity and know that you need to eat but are unable to oversee such a simple part of daily living because your life is a total shitstorm because you lost someone.

I realize that though no one has died, I have lost someone, and my neighbor lady, a very sweet and kind lady who has a master’s degree and the nice house on the hill and a husband and a little girl and two dogs and she stays at home, has thought of me, with concern and pity, and she brought me divorce ham. I’m touched and everything is good, and I finish it all, including the dessert plate, except I let Adicus have the pumpkin pie, because he asked for it, but I hate her for it too. I hate her, and I feel guilty for hating her, and I will go up the hill one day to have coffee, because I’ve always liked her well enough, and she asked me to, and she’s very sweet, but I hate her and I hate myself for hating her.

When I finish with dinner, I head straight into the office. Into the room where the ex stayed after we split but before he left. That moment is frozen in time in this room, with clothes piled on the floor next to a makeshift bed and the smell of dust and dead dreams. He had agreed to let me pack up his things. So I started. I cleaned and packed and sorted and cleaned and packed and sorted some more. There is more to do, there are more boxes to pack, and more cleaning and rearranging to be done, but it’s okay.

As I slip into bed Sunday night, I feel more like the girl who took the dog for an adventure on the Parkway and less like the girl who ate pity ham in her pj’s at six o clock on a Sunday afternoon.

Now I just have to find the time and the courage to go up the hill for coffee.

Get this, ya’ll: it’s for having a positive attitude. I wish my Mom knew about the blog, because I’d make her put this award on her fridge. Speaking as a girl who almost got sent to Catholic school in the seventh grade for her “attitude problem”, I’m super proud. I’m supposed to nominate ten people, but I’m going to do this instead: if you’re reading here, consider yourself awarded. Those other two parts of the triple award are best friends and sisterhood, and if you’ve stuck with me, you more than deserve an award.

Okay, now for the grossest thing EVER.

I was watching tv last night when I saw a commercial for frosted shredded mini wheats. I HEART frosted shredded mini wheats. I am not exaggerating when I say I keep two boxes in the pantry so I always have a continuous supply of the little squares that make up half of my regular diet. But this commercial was so horrible, so deviant, so disgusting that I nearly tossed my cookies right there on the couch.

The commercial was for HOT frosted shredded mini wheats. As in MICROWAVED. That my friends is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard of in my entire life. First of all, if you’re going to serve me hot milk, there better be some cocoa in it. Secondly, if you want a hot breakfast, make some eggs or eat some fucking oatmeal. Do NOT microwave your frosted shredded mini wheats, for Chrissakes. I even like to let the milk (the delicious COLD milk) sit on the cereal for a minute to soak it up, so it’s not about the texture. It’s all about temperature. What kind of sick fuck wants hot frosted shredded mini wheats? I mean really. Do you microwave Chewy bars? NO. You eat them at room temperature. How about salad? Want a steaming hot garden salad? Fuck no you don’t, and you don’t want hot frosted shredded mini wheats either.

If you do want your frosted shredded mini wheats microwaved you are now dead to me.

• Jury Duty (possibly) Nov 2-6th
• My 30th birthday- Friday, November 13th
• My first Thanksgiving in over 10 years without a man to feed or local family
• A trip to Chicago, on the company dime, that I can schedule whenever I want

I’m not quite sure what I want to do. The ex will be watching Adicus while I’m out of town. His time line for moving away from Paradise is around Thanksgiving, so it’s possible that when I turn Adicus over to him for my trip, it might be permanent, if the ex is ready to keep him. That would also mean that he’d have all of the rest of his things out of my house (which he might have accomplished by November 1st- I think that’s his goal, but he’s a busy bee lately and has not done much packing).

On principal, I don’t mind spending Thanksgiving at home alone. Turkey breast, bottle of wine, 40,000 phone calls. In fact, if the stars align properly, and I can use that 4 day weekend to set up the spare bedroom the way I want and get the basement set up the way I want it and totally reclaim the entire house as my very own, well, that would be something to be thankful for. The mere idea makes my wittle heart sing.

I am concerned, though, about spending the holiday alone if I’ve just lost Mr. Adicus Badicus. Having full and complete use of all of my house will soften the blow, but I love that dog to pieces, and I don’t want to fall to pieces because OMG I WILL DIE ALONE I DON’T EVEN HAVE A DOG AND NO ONE TO MAKE TURKEY FOR AND MY FAMILY IS TOO FAR AWAY AND I’M A BIG PITY PARTY BABY. As you know, it is not likely, but entirely possible that this could happen.

Driving from Paradise to the Great North after the leaves fall is not for me. Not alone, not in my little ancient Saturn, not in winter weather. I’m a badass, but not quite *that* badass. Flying on a buddy pass? Ill advised at best, blacked out at worst.

My sister is having Thanksgiving in Atlanta with her friends. It’s a possibility, sure, but they aren’t going to let me be in charge, and I don’t know that I can deal with that. What if they don’t make the cornbread dressing properly? What if they don’t make it at all?!

I could use the company paid airline tickets to fly from Chicago to Detroit, thereby securing myself a paid seat to see Mom and Daddy. Using a pass to fly home would be fine, as I would have a few days cushion in case the flights are full. Drawbacks include: extended exposure to Mom, having Thanksgiving with 40,000 relatives I have not seen in 40 years, and having to fly home standby on a holiday weekend. Advantages: I can cook some of my usual recipes at Mom’s and give those Yankees a taste of the traditional Southern Thanksgiving, extended exposure to Daddy, and being fussed over.

On the other hand, if I go to Chicago the week before Thanksgiving, I will probably have more time to catch up with some of my very favorite Chicago people. Going the week of Thanksgiving gives me less flexibility, as I was thinking about staying in Chicago over the weekend and flying home Sunday if I don’t go for Thanksgiving. If I don’t go for the holiday, I would probably fly in on the 17th and fly home on the 21st or 22nd. On the other hand, I’d have to pay for a hotel room for Friday and Saturday night, and I don’t know if I can swing that.

What say you? Tell me what to do! Oh, and keep in mind that I will NOT be tagging along with friends to any of their Thanksgivings. Not my thing.

• An entire day spent under hot sun, near cool water, with a bottle of Banana Boat tanning oil, a comfy lounge chair, soft fluffy beachtowels, and a neverending vodka and pineapple juice. Fuck the book- I don’t even want to exert that much mental energy. The entire purpose would be to soak in all the vitamin D possible, and taking the “office chalk” skin down to a “she was outside, once,  at some point” level.
• To place a $50 order at drugstore.com that has been wish listed for eons. I just wanna send the whole list to my cart and hit CHECKOUT.
• I want a hot tub. Because if I could come home from work and get into a hot tub every night? I might be the happiest girl in the world.
• I want an extra $800 a month that no one in the household has to work for. Rich people have this- they just get random checks for shit. Assets and investments and stuff.  Sign me up.
• I want everyone, including me, to have a light planted in their forehead. It would activate when you were looking at someone, and if you were happy with them and you cared about them, it would light green. If you were getting on their nerves a little, but they didn’t totally hate you, it would be yellow, and if you were trying to engage someone in conversation that was just absolutely annoyed and disgusted with you, it would be red. So you could walk up to people, look at the light, see it being red, and turn right the hell around. Think of how much time we all could save. And awkwardness.
• I want to take a cozy, half naked, favorite blanket nap, in the middle of the afternoon, and I want to be woken up to a yummy dinner. Don’t care what dinner, as long as it’s the first thing I smell when I get woken up, and it’s easy to clean up.
• Pretty, comfy, non flip flop sandals to wear to work.
• A few sundresses.
• For all the animals to be happy and healthy all at once. No worms, no boo boos, no fights, no getting stuck down in the basement and wailing at the top of their kitty cat lungs.
• For my friend to get out of the hospital so that I don’t have to go visit him tomorrow and see him all tubey and sick and wormy.
• For my Mom to be stricken with some strange ailment that prevents her from speaking. EVER.
• More than one pair of shorts.
• A whole day with my friends- going out to breakfast, window shopping, pedicures, and sushi. Booze, too.
• Prescriptions that never expire or run out of refills for Ativan and Flexaril.
• A credit account at the ABC store.
• A large, lush herb garden.
• Some kind of foot cleansing device that would prevent me from bringing pet hair and rhododendron bloom trash into my tub on the bottom of my feet.

What do you want?

We’re trying to spend less time in front of the tv, and the computer, which explains my lack of weekend presence. We’re trying to spend more quality time together, talking and snuzzling and doing things together instead of alone. Our date on Friday night rocked, and so did having company at the grocery store.

We’re trying to be cleaner at home. Keeping the dishes and laundry under control, so they don’t reach critical mass. WH is working on turning the garden as the weather allows, and we’ve got the garden plan done, working on the seed plan this week, to start seedlings next week? Our screened in porch has been cleaned within an inch of its life and is ready for sunny afternoons and balmy evenings.

I’m trying to do a better job with my classes, spending at least an hour a day studying and not waiting till the last minute to get my assignments done and exams taken.

I’m trying to work on work while I’m here, and not work on work when I am not. I’m trying to get the closing organized and under control so that it doesn’t bring me to my knees. I’m trying to find a routine and a rhythm with the side job so that it doesn’t stress me out.

I’m trying to better manage my time. I created a schedule for WH and I. I thought he puked in his mouth a little at the sight of it. It divides the day into half hour increments for both of us, and while I hardly think we’ll stick to such a stringent schedule, it gives us a good idea of what we should be doing when, and a framework to return to when chaos ruins it and slinks off into the sunset again.

WH is trying to squeeze as many hours out of Large Department Store as possible. So far, its working, but he gave up an appointment at Large Big Box store to work last week. If they cut his hours after they purposely screwed him out of a job interview, I’m going up there. Just sayin.

I’m trying to do the best we can with the money we have, keeping things turned on and mostly current and all of that. Oh, and you know, buying food. Because if there is one thing neither WH and I do well at? It’s not eating.

Speaking of not eating, I am trying to cram as much food as possible into my poor, broken mouth. My root canal is a week from today, and when it’s done, I’m going to have boiling hot soup and coffee for lunch and ice cream for dessert.

I’ll be trying to start working out again in the morning, to hopefully counteract the eating BINGE I foresee when the #5 is fixed. Also? I don’t know that I will ever use a straw again……..

So. We are trying.

Have I been doing a good job of working out and eating healthy? Hell, no. My once clean work out space has again been cluttered up and thoroughly funked out, and WH will not help me with it until I get my potting bench organized in the basement. Something about putting stuff from the office in the basement before the basement is clean, blah, blah, boys are a pain in the ass, blah.

As the post title states, this weight loss is entirely involuntary.

When I am stressed, my stomach gets upset. When my stomach is upset, I don’t eat.

When I am depressed? I used to be a huge comfort eater, and once in awhile, I run down that road again (maybe waddle is more appropriate?), but for the most part, I avoid eating when I’m depressed, as kind of a countermeasure against eating too much to comfort myself. Analyze that!

My bad tooth, the Number Five (as named by my dentist), is helping as well. It’s an upper right tooth, and the cavity is at the gum line. So I can chew a little bit on that side. However. Anything colder or warmer than room temperature and sweeter than tap water hitting the Number Five? Not cool. As in I think I might pass out. I’m drinking everything but coffee through a straw. I can’t even eat cereal, as it’s too hard to keep the milk out of the Number Five.

Let’s consider that for a moment. Me being unable to eat cereal. My staple of life. I’m still eating it, dry out of the box, but I don’t eat much because it’s just not the same…..

I did not weigh myself this morning. Partly because I don’t want to know, partly because if my pants are too big that tells me what I need to know, and partly because I had already put my pants on. Like any woman worth her salt, I prefer to shed anything and everything possible before stepping on the self-esteem measuring machine scale.

I’m sure that as soon as I get to the dentist and get that root canal (March 9th! Unless they have a cancellation!), and get to the doctor for some little blue pills (Zoloft, not Viagra, you tools), I’ll gain back whatever I’ve lost, but until then?

Send belts, please.

This morning, I met a dear friend for breakfast, and we had our usual epic conversation- about everything and anything. I gave him the blog address, for several different reasons, and when I told him about my little secret, it occurred to me…

I need to join the blogging community in Asheville, and I need to work on developing one out in Waynesville. It would be so great to spend some time in real life with people who share my passion for blogging and writing, and to meet new people. It also means that I will be more driven to write quality posts and improve my writing, and that makes me happy.

After breakfast, I headed home and opened all the doors and windows. As the fresh air flooded the house, I chased the funk out, vacuuming and mopping and getting ready for the return of WH. The novelty of single life has well worn off, and I cannot wait to have my man in my bed and my daily life again. It was nice to miss him, it will be nicer to reunite.

Adicus and I took lots of fetch breaks to enjoy the warm afternoon sunshine, and then I took him for a drive to run a few small errands. Now I’m working on a new recipe for creamy chicken soup, since I finally posted my fudge and guacamole recipes over at 2HotDishes (link to the left!).

Now I’m off, to finish up my chores and prepare for another busy week. How was your Sunday?

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