Day 23

This morning I was messing around on my blog, trying to make it more user friendly and apparently I accidentally blocked ALL of you.

I am so sorry. It was not intentional. You are all very nice readers and deserve better.

Everything should be back up in running now.

Thanks Kim for the heads up!

Kristi

Day 22

 Today, I read an article by a new author. We were in the submission trenches together. She got a million dollar book contract and I, well, did not.

Anyway, she was talking about balancing writing and family life and how she'd come to the conclusion that she could only do two things at once, write and parent. But she was fine with it, writing and parenting are enough to fill her up.

I closed my laptop grabbed the last remaining treat I have in my house, an old bin of gingersnaps I bought last Thanksgiving, and headed for the refrigerator. As I'm dipping one cookie after another into a kiddie cup of milk, I pondered why this writing stuff is still such a toxic subject for me. I mean, I knew it must be a landmine,

handfuls of stale gingersnap cookies 

= 

painful crap I don't want to stomach. 

When the tenth (or twentieth, who's counting?)  gingersnap thunked in my gut. It hit me. 

I couldn't do it. The balance didn't work for me. I couldn't give my family what they deserved and create a novel. I couldn't do both. Makes me feel like I failed.  

Yes, I made a conscious decision to stay home with my kids and not pursue writing professionally. Yes, I know I've made the right decision for me. Yes, I know that everyone in my family is thriving since I've made that choice. Yes, I know that there are successful authors who didn't even start writing until their sixties. 

No, that knowledge doesn't make it easier. No, it doesn't make me feel any better about myself. No, I don't want to write for the geriatric crowd. 

I don't want to have a pity party here.  I'm good with the decisions I've made, overall. I am feeling so much joy again. I am living!  I moving toward the life I've always (really) wanted but choosing the right path is not always easy. 

Because it brings me back to why I made the decision in the first place. 

Writing a book or losing forty pounds won't change me

at least not the way I imagined in my fantasies. This revelation was a serious sucker punch, believe me. Especially when I know if I kept working at it, I could have a fat book contract too. 

But I don't want to pursue anything else until I'm ready, until I know it's the right time and I'm good with myself. 

In the meantime, the food demons have been dancing across my butt. 

And eating gingersnaps feels a lot like swallowing nails. 

But I'm keeping at it. 

If and when I ever do write again, I want to write for me, not to fulfill unrealistic fantasies or to impress anybody else. No outside influences allowed. 

But first, I'm  chucking the gingersnaps. It's time to make peace with myself. 

Day 21

I've really, REALLY been trying to listen to myself and give it what it needs.

I'm a little embarrassed to admit this but I have really been scared to trust myself with this venture. What if I only crave chocolate or ice cream? What if I want to eat fried chicken all the time? What if I want to leave my whole life behind and became a Las Vegas stripper ?

Then what? Huh? Huh? 

Was listening to myself such a great idea? 

So I close my eyes and open myself up to absolutely anything and listen for just a second.

I ask myself tentatively, "Self, what do you need? What do you want? Self, if you could do absolutely anything in the world what would it be, right this minute? 

This was my self's response:

Day 19

So sorry for the skip in days. I was going to try to post an entry for every day this month but catching up has turned out to be a bit unrealistic, especially this week, which has turned out to be quite the week.

The kids are going back to school in a few days and I am so, so bummed. We've been having such a good time together just being lazy and summery. I'm not ready for it to end not for them or for me. Especially not for me. (Is that a sentence? Hm. It feels like a sentence but I'm pretty sure it's missing a few things.) See! That shows you how totally not ready I am to go back to school. I need at least another month of lazing in the hammock. And not wondering about school type things. Even though I love school, and new school supplies and fall. FALL!

Is there any season more divine?

I'll save my ode's to fall for later. Tonight, I want to give a quick book report.

I'm half way through with Eat, Pray, Love. I've read it before, many years ago, but I don't recall it being quite so meaningful then. Last time I read it I was in a nursing mother stupor. The thought of traveling the world felt like such a foreign concept. All I wanted was some friggen sleep!

Anyway, I am thoroughly enjoying the book this time. Thoroughly. I'm not sure if I share all Elizabeth Gilbert's beliefs but I love her warm, honest prose. And so much of the book is thought provoking. It's forced me to stop and think. Though I think it may have contributed to my over consumption of gelato in Park City.

When Food is Love is really the book I want to write about briefly. I don't want to go into a mountain of details tonight so I'll sum up quickly. I do believe the book to be life changing for me. It was one of the hardest, gut wrenching books for me to read (so much of it rang painfully true) but when I was finished I felt like I had a much clearer understanding of myself and where I would like to be.

So, after much deliberation, I am going to give what Geneen Roth proposes a try. I am going to attempt intuitive eating.

Gulp.

That's right. I am going to eat whatever I want whenever I want to eat it.

No more rules about fruits and vegetables, counting calories or fiber or not eating after seven p.m. I am going to trust my body—double gulp—to tell me what it wants and when.

Sweet Monkey's, I'm having heart palpitations. Do I even dare trust myself with something so daunting when I am such a food freak? I've been carefully monitoring everything I eat for ten years. I could tell you the calorie count on just about any food on this continent.

And I am going to throw caution to the wind and just eat what I want? I feel faint. No more than faint, dizzy, euphoric, absolutely terrified.

I'll explain more on the how's and why's of my decision later. I just shout/squeak/whimper that I am jumping off the edge of the emotional eating roller coaster and I'm hoping/praying for a soft landing.

Day 13

If you happen to end up in Garden Valley Idaho, might I suggest a trip to the hot springs?

Yes, it is warm, even when outside temps are not.

Yes, there is room for all of your friends. 

Yes, I may be sitting on the edge of an old piece of wool carpet someone dragged across the river, up a sidehill, and dropped in the hot springs so they wouldn't have to sit on rocks. (Eew.) 

No, I did not develop a scary rash or worry about getting one from sitting on a nasty piece of old, wool carpet. (Okay, maybe I worried a little.) 

After a soak and a trip down the river, you will want to buy a cabin with room for all of your friends...

And when you do, you might want to make them 

an Asiago Sourdough Sandwich that's a perfect make ahead picnic treat big enough for a crowd. 

Asiago Sourdough Sandwich

1 french style loaf of Asiago Sourdough Bread (or plain french loaf)

1 cup parmesan, garlic mayo (recipe follows)

6 green leaf lettuce leaves

1 red, 1 green bell pepper, sliced into rounds

1/2 -3/4  lb. hard salami, sliced thin

1/2 - 3/4 lb. chicken breast, sliced thin

1/2 - 3/4 lb. black forest ham, sliced thin

10 slices provolone cheese 

Cut a canoe shaped wedge of of center of sourdough loaf, remove top of loaf and trim crust to create a lid. Clean out bottom within an inch of crust. Save bread trimmings for other use. Spread parmesan spread on top and bottom of bread shell. Layer lettuce, salami, chicken breast, black forest ham and provolone on sandwich. Wrapped tightly in cling wrap and store in refrigerator or cooler up to three days. When ready to serve, unwrap, add sliced bell peppers and serve. Serves 8-12

Parmesan Mayo

1 cup light mayonnaise 

1-2 tbls fresh minced garlic

1/4 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese

1 tbls dried onion flakes (Such as Select Seasons Onion Melody)

Combine all ingredients in small mixing bowl. Transfer to airtight container. Chill at least 30 minutes. Serve as sandwich or wrap spread or as a quick chip dip. Will keep one week if refrigerated. 

Day 12

Today we are in Garden Valley, Idaho.

It is cold and wet and beautiful and I wish I lived here.

This part of Idaho is beautiful, lush and green and so, so peaceful. It rained hard yesterday so today it smells amazing, like pine and sage and rushing water.

We are paddling the easiest section of river. A class one, no real dangers, just floating, enjoying the sights, letting my teenager learn to paddle on safe water.

Later . . .

I am sitting in our boat with my husband and my two youngest children. My daughter is in our one man inflatable. We float around a tremendous pine tree overturned in the river and see a girl with only her nose and terrified eyes above the water. She was in a kayak and overturned in the branches of the pine tree. In river speak, it's called a strainer. She is snagged on the edge of it, flipped and pinned nearly upside down.

Three kayakers are trying to help her but even on a flat section of water, the current is powerful.

Suddenly we are in a nightmare. Down stream, my daughter eddy's out against a bank of cliffs. She knows a strainer is dangerous.  My husband grabs another paddlers boat and runs up stream to help the kayaker. I drag my own boat with my five and ten year old to the shore, my eyes jumping from my husband, to the kayaker, to my daughter.

I feel small and powerless.

My children and I pray. What else can we do?

Then I wait, wondering if this girl is going to drown before my children's eyes.

The kayaker screams as the men try to rip her out of the boat.

"She's slipping."
"Don't let her go under."
"Grab her."
"No!"

I've never seen anyone die before.

But then I see her white helmet. She is in a man's arms.

My husband paddles her trembling body to the shore. Our friend Amy and I tend to her.

I wrap a paddler jacket around her shoulders, give her water, stroke her long dark hair.

Her lips are blue, she's badly bruised, shaking, but she is alive.

Even later . . .

I see the kayaker at camp. She the thick bruises on her thighs are darkening. I want to hug her like I'd hold my daughter. But when I see her, I hesitate. She doesn't know me, after all, I am just a stranger on the river.

So I make pulled pork sandwiches, coleslaw, three bean salad and strawberry shortcake with whipped cream and offer to feed her and her rescuers. She doesn't have an appetite but her rescuers gladly accept my offer. One of them has two servings of shortcake.

We are all alive.

Today is a good day.

Day 11

I am a worrier. I worry about a lot of things, big and small. 

I worry about having enough money to retire even though I'm only 35. I worry about letting the hotel room get too messy before the maid comes in to clean it. 

I worry that my 10 year old isn't getting enough hugs and that my 5 year old doesn't eat enough fiber. I worry that the Democrats will stay in the White House or that the Republicans will win it back. 

Sometimes my worrying makes daily life sort of uncomfortable. It makes me want to eat things that aren't good for me, like pink and white Iced Animal Cookies that taste like sugar and wax. 

I asked my friend K if she worries about anything, since she always seems so relaxed. She laughed and said that she only worries about the big stuff that she can control, like her children becoming axe murderers. 

I don't want my kids to become axe murderers either. 

Also, I'd like to be more relaxed.

So, I've been trying to only worry about things I can control.

Here is my list: 

-My 5 year old eating enough fiber

-Dental hygiene

-Ample hug distribution

All this not worrying has opened up a lot of mental free time

 so I can focus on be more relaxed. 

This new silence worries me

 and makes me want to eat pink and white Iced Animal Cookies that taste like wax. 

Being relaxed is hard.