Costco Hot Dogs

I think they probably put cocaine in Costco's hot dogs. I mean, it's a hot dog, but it's the bestflippingjuicytastywonderful dog you ever ate. It's a dollar fifty, and you get a drink with that. How are they making money? It's not a tiny hot dog... it's bigger than a regular one actually... it makes my head hurt thinking about it. How on earth, do they do it? Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that you walk in the door and a hundred dollar bill floats out of your wallet. You just went for milk but somehow the 4ft box of "After 8's" seemes like a necessary purchase. Did I mention I love After 8's and I won't buy milk at Costco???

Now that I'm packing lunches every day for my sweetie pie, I can't seem to keep soup in the house. She loves bringing Chicken Noodle Soup in her Hello Kitty thermos. I would make it, but my soup never tastes as good, at least not to a 3 year old. I give Campbell's the kudos they deserve... she eats it with avengance.

I hurt myself this weekend. I was hanging Christmas lights in the living room window, and I was standing on the couch. My foot sank in between the cushions... I thought nothing of it. Until I tried to pull my foot out and it was caught. I'm assuming on a spring. I couldn't get it out and it started hurting. I didn't feel it go in because it went through the hard calloused (I know, sexy) pad of my foot. I had to rip my foot out and left a decent chunk of it behind... Of course my baby runs to get me some toilet paper for the bleeding and comes back with one square... she was thrilled though to go get me a piggy band aid and put it on for me. Let's just say I'm "limpsalot" today. Only I could get a Christmas Decorating wound. I need a new couch.

To top off an already stellar weekend, I then lost my 3 year old at a large kids Christmas Party on Sunday. I lost my mind and after it took 5 people 10 minutes to find her, I almost hauled off and hit her. Instead I grabbed her and hugged her. My crying scared the daylights out of her, but nowhere near the fear I had felt. My head became a nightmare of every crazy awful story I had ever heard about kids getting snatched. My heart fell into my stomach and still resides there. I've never felt so panicked in all my life before. Never been so utterly terrified. She's 3 and she doesn't get it. She's too little, no matter how many conversations and Bearstien Bears books we read about strangers. She doesn't understand that if there is ever a place for a creeper to grab a little kid, it's a place like that. She doesn't know about the awful things people are capable of doing to little girls. She doesn't know I would die if anything happened to her. She doesn't know.

How are you ever supposed to let go of them? I'm afraid to let go of her hand now.

Real Disappointment

If there is one thing I've learned in this life, it's that people are going to disappoint you. People you didn't think would, or could. People you didn't think had that power. Sooner or later, everyone will disappoint you. Your husband or wife, your kids or parents, siblings and dare I say it... even your very best friend.

It's amazing how age affects the way you deal with those disappointments. In my teens I would have cried for weeks and been crushed over a best friend hurting me. In my 20's I walked away. Now, in my late 30's I cried, then I thought about walking away, then I decided that forgiving someone who isn't perfect and made a bad choice is what is actually better for me. Anger dissipates, disapointment wanes... as we get older our friends, the really good ones, become part of our insides, part of our makeup. The loss of one of them is a much bigger deal than it was when I was in my 20's. My 20's where the most important thing (or so I thought) was the man who happened to me next to me at the time. Although I've always placed a high value on my friendships, I was still naive enough to think that I would be a little old lady with her husband, the most important relationship, by her side. Now I know differently. Yes I love my husband, but he's not my insides. He barely knows me. It will be my friends who I'm sitting in a nursing home with, playing cards and waxing each others lips. Look in any nursing home... how many couples do you see? It's a lovely fantasy, but as far as realism goes, it will just be another disappointment. Be good to your friends. Respect the lines, respect the relationship. And when your friend falls down, pick her up and dust her off. They will disappoint and maybe even piss you off... you'll get over it.

I won't lie, I feel different. My friend, the disappointer... she knocked me for a loop. I said I would forgive her and get over it, but it feels different now. Like trying to go back to holding hands after you've had sex. I don't know if it's possible. But I know who I am, and I know how I work. I've said my piece (and a mean piece at that) and that usually means I can get over it. It's when you never get to say your piece that you hang onto that anger. So I'm not angry anymore, but it is different. I guess it has to be. Hopefully not forever. Everything changes and I guess this does too. In 15 years we've never had quite this big a hill to climb. Or maybe we did, but we were holding hands climbing together. Now I don't want to hold her hand and although I've agreed to walk with her, I won't hold her hand for a little while. huh... makes it harder on both of us doesn't it?

I'm Baaaaack...

Work has been brutally crazy. I new summer would be my busy season, but I did not expect the shitfest that has been job since June.  As the snow fell yesterday I cheered and danced with the knowledge that many construction sites would start to shut down and not start up again until spring. I’m thrilled to be able to settle in and hopefully get some of the work done that has been piling up for months.

I’m still a chub. I “ran” the marathon and use the term loosely because I walked most of it. I guess I should say I “completed” the marathon. That is definitely closer to what I actually did. I didn’t love it. I didn’t drop an ounce of weight because of it which if I’m being honest, was the most disappointing part of the whole thing. I killed myself training for it and have barely run since. I think I did too much to fast and I need to just accept the fact that a runner I am not. Jogger, sure… skater definitely but I prefer the treadmill to outside, won’t jog without music and stop when I get tired… I prefer to do one minute jog, 3 minute walk… I enjoy my workout when I do that. So that’s what I will do.

Ringette has started and my feet ache on the ice, but I am attempting to work out 3-4 times a week and allowing a game to count as one of those times. I will be going to the gym today. No games until next week. I try to watch what I eat but I seem to be bouncing between the same 5 pounds that I have been for 3 years. I drop a few, I gain them back the next week. I drop I gain I drop I gain. I eat well all week, I eat like a horse on the weekend. I eat well all week and weekend, I gain. I eat McDonald’s twice in one week, I lose… I’m at a “give up” stage again… especially knowing that Christmas is coming and it’s going to be a frenzy of dinners, parties and merrymaking. What’s a girl to do? As I already said… “give up”.

Not forever, but for now. It’s typical of everyone who spends their life struggling with their weight. You get to a point where “fuck it” is all you can deal with. Last night I cooked chicken breasts with rice and carrots. It was healthy but my husband and daughter had to douse it in soya sauce and bbq sauce because of me and my “health food” as they put it. Coming from a guy who has eaten more than half of his daughters Halloween candy, I can’t expect much. He loves grease and sauce and sugar and is not a fan of veggies. So I try, but those damn mini chocolate bars beckon me.

That being said, I find to avoid snacking at night, I’ll go to bed at 8:30. Which is pretty sad. I will usually lay there and read or do a crossword, but my mind wanders to the cookies in the pantry and I need to turn out the light and go to sleep to forget about it. I’m sad. A sad pathetic overweight bulimic who forgets to purge… Ha… I’m really just being silly. I know I will always struggle. Partly because of never feeling good enough anyway, and partly because as I age, things don’t generally get firmer or better… so the battle is never going to be won or lost. Just always fought.  If continually fighting it is the best I can do, then that’s what I’ll do.