Fighter.

When we lived in St. Louis several years ago, I attended a fairly liberal United Methodist church there.  (I grew up Methodist, and T and I were married in the Methodist church, before I got frustrated by the conservative arm of the church and became an Episcopalian.)  In 2002, I attended the Ash Wednesday service at the church, with T (randomly--he's not much of a church-goer, and I honestly don't remember why he came).  It was a small service, held in the parish hall, and the pastor (who went by Pastor Dave and who looked like a cross between John Slattery and the guy who plays the farmer in "Babe") gave a moving sermon that I can't remember the slightest thing about.  Then, suddenly, he picked up an acoustic guitar and started playing and singing.  The song he played was "The Boxer", by Simon and Garfunkel.  And once I got past the fact that he had said "whores" in a church service with kids present (yeah, I was sheltered), something about that song drew me into the worship experience in a way I never had been before. 

Ever since that night in 2002, the song "The Boxer" has been almost holy to me, in a way I can't describe.  The groundswell of music at the end of the song, past all the "ly-la-ly" parts, is almost like God coming to say, "Yeah, I'm here with you, no matter how beaten or broken you are.  I'm here.  We're in this together."

My life has been overwhelming lately, as I've shared before.  I've felt a little bit beaten.  And then, today, as I was driving home from Louisville after yet another visit with the veterinary specialist, "The Boxer" came on my iPod.  I turned it up as high as I could stand it and let the tears fill my eyes.

In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminder of every glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out in his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving" but the fighter still remains

And that's what I heard this morning, as the final "ly-la-ly-ly-ly-la-ly, ly-la-ly-ly-ly" faded. 

The fighter still remains.



Source: seen-sucht.blogspot.com via AB on Pinterest

I'm not going to give in and get all "woe is me" about this shit.  By God, I'm fighting back.  I'm going to get back into a routine of exercise that makes me feel good without punishing my body.  I've already gone to the doctor to adjust my medication for the anxiety that has plagued me recently.  I'm going to enjoy every single minute of my life instead of being overtaken with worry and fear. 

I may be the most conflict-averse person on planet Earth, but I'm willing to go to the mat for this one. 

What are you fighting today? 

This I Wonder... A Guest Post

I am actively soliciting guest posts for the summer.  The topic?  "What I Wonder About."  (Can you end a topic with a preposition like that?)  The first guest poster is the lovely Lydia of Nothing Rhymes with Lydia ... well, except that.

************************************************************************************
There are many nights where I lay on my side of our enormous bed, listening to my husband snore, the fan whir and the dull thump of bass from the stereos of cars stopping at our corner stop sign. The problem with not being able to sleep usually isn't one of external noise. It's almost always a problem of internal noise. I have a hard time turning off my brain, especially if I've done any sort of reading or creating or thinking in the hour or so before bed. It seems that watching re-runs on Comedy Central is almost always guaranteed to get me to sleep, quickly.


On those nights where my brain runs wild, one of my favorite things to think about is how my life would be different if any one of my life choices had been just a little bit different. I can entertain myself, for hours, thinking about what my alternate life would have been like. Do other people do this?

I should say, ahead of time, that I am completely comfortable in nearly every single choice I've made for myself. I have a beautiful life full of caring and compassionate friends and family. I have a spouse who understands me and loves me for the person that I am. Generally, I think regrets are a pretty big waste of time. I have the same attitude about worrying after things that I can't change. I try to actively learn from situations that many people might view as regrets. I tend to let go of worries that are beyond my control. This wondering, late at night, is almost like a fantasy Choose Your Own Adventure novel.

The one decision that I always come back to with the most Change Your Life potential is the one that I worried about the most. I was one of those FREAKED OUT high school seniors that pretty much just knew that the biggest decision of my entire life was which college I'd attend. I was very dramatic at 17. In some ways, I realize that this is totally ridiculous. There are so many decisions that went into making me who I am, today. However, I sometimes wonder what would my life be like if I'd gone to a different university.

My big life decisions up until the fall of 1997 were pretty well made for me or heavily influenced by my parents. For some reason, though, they left the decision of where I'd go to college up to me. I chose to go to a school only 26 miles from my hometown - to Transylvania University (yes, there was a crypt. no, there weren't any vampires besides the girl in my freshman dorm who wished she was). I chose to go despite the fact that such an education would saddle me with student loan debt well into my 30s. I had a boyfriend who was still in high school. I'd never been very far from my family. A lot of friends were going to school in the same city. I had family ties to the school. I really can't remember a stronger motivation than those things, but they are pretty big deals to a 17-year old. Money, apparently, was not a big deal. [eyeroll]

I wonder what my life would be like, now, if I had chosen to go to school in Virginia or North Carolina?

In Virginia, I would have attended a public institution, for free. I would have had a new car (that was my deal with the parents: full scholarship = new ride). A high school friend would be only a half hour away at an exclusive women's college. I'm pretty sure we would have remained fast friends. I almost positively would have been an English/History major. That would have led me to grad school and maybe I'd hold a PhD, now? Would I be a professor? My always-tenuous relationship with my high school boyfriend would have ended, rather quickly. Maybe I'd have met a husband, there. Where would we live, now? Would he have had political aspirations and been an intern in Washington, D.C.? Would I be living a big-city life, right now? Would I have babies clinging to my legs at every step?

If I think about what would be different if I'd gone to college in North Carolina, a lot of those same questions are ones I ask myself. However, I worry more about the fact that being a student in Charlotte would have saddled me with a lifetime of being a Carolina Panthers fan. In college, I was ripe for taking on an NFL allegiance, my hometown being sort of in limbo when it comes to professional sports allegiances. How awful would it have been to have pinned all my hopes on Jake Delhomme and been crushed in the 2004 Super Bowl? I feel confident that my hatred of the New England Patriots is something that transcends the effect of decision-making in my past. Even more, I worry that such a decision would have landed me and any future spouse deep in the heart of Tobacco Road. How would my allegiance to the Big Blue Nation have held up in the face of all those ugly sky blue-clad UNC fans and Dookies? I shudder to think that I couldn't go to a bar and watch my game, much less that I'd have fallen in love with such a fanemy.

When I imagine these scenarios in my head, I have an easy time picturing what those other lives would have been like. Of course, I always make them glamorous, which is so not me! I cannot, however, reconcile my current lives with those. So many things would be different, but the people would be most different of all. Would my relationship with my parents be as close as it is, now? Doubtful, since I was barely speaking to my Dad during those college years. Would I have become friends with my sister, after all those years of fighting? I doubt it, since being nearby to help her out while her husband was deployed to Iraq helped us become adults that liked each other rather than siblings that tolerated. What about all the friends that I have remained close with since elementary school? It's easy to drift out of touch when separated by distance. It helps us that we've shared SO much since we left the closeness of high school. Finally, I am POSITIVE, without a doubt, that The Husband and I would have never crossed paths if I'd not gone to college where I did, veering away from the life plan and picking a business-related major. How in the world would a hoity-toity English major (which I would have been in VA or NC) ever have met and fell in love with a blue-collar guy in a factory in rural Kentucky?

It's fun to wonder about these different lives, late at night, when I can't sleep. I wouldn't trade any of the decisions I made, though. I'd not risk my present reality for those glamorous could-have-beens. However, I'd be happy to unload this student loan debt and years of being asked if I am a vampire. Any takers?

Thanks, Lydia!  (For the record, I'm glad you stayed in Kentucky... we need more people like you.)  Go show Lydia some love on her blog!  And if you would be interested in guest posting this summer, send me an email or a message on Twitter! 

Wine for people who don't like wine

Well, it's a Saturday night and, because my life is so ballin', I'm sitting here on my laptop, playing around on Tweetdeck and sipping a glass of wine.  Pretty much the same as every other night of my life.  Yet somehow, I've been chatting with three people who say that they don't like wine, and wish they did.  Don't like wine?  The mind boggles.  The liver cries.  (Tears of happiness, probably.)

There was a time, dear friends, when I didn't like wine.  I didn't know how.  I didn't know anyone who drank it.  Then I discovered the joys (?!?) of white Zinfandel.  Realizing this was fine for my 21-year-old college self, yet not fine for the business dinners I was about to begin attending in my ballin' career as a public accountant, I bought "Wine for Dummies".  Yes, WINE FOR DUMMIES.  Hey, it was more accessible than Wine Spectator.  I started buying different wines at the grocery store, all under $10 or $12, and tasting them while reading the applicable chapter in the book.  I discovered what I liked, what I didn't like, and a love affair was born.

These days, I like it all.  I tend to shy away from American Chardonnays and Merlots, but there are exceptions even to these rules.  But what to tell my Twitter friends who wonder where to start?

Most people don't like wine because it's not sweet enough.  The dryness can be an acquired taste, to be sure.  To start, pick up a Riesling.  I prefer the German Rieslings, because you can usually tell from the label how sweet they are going to be.  A Kabinett is the least sweet (although still fairly sweet, as wines go), and would go best with food.  A Spatlese is fairly sweet, but mid-level for a Riesling.  An Auslese is very sweet and would most likely be served either with dessert, or AS dessert.  Still, Riesling is a good way to order a sweet wine without heading down the White Zinfandel route. 

My favorite non-dry white wine is the Vinho Verde varietal from Portugal.  The name means "green wine" in Portuguese (I promise, it's not actually green) but it's light, refreshing, and has just the teeniest hint of fizz.  Not like champagne-style fizz, just... enough.  It is often so light as to appear clear in the bottle.  It's freaking FANTASTIC.  And often cheap.

Speaking of fizz, if you are down with the fizzy stuff, pick up a bottle of Prosecco.  Prosecco is the Italian version of champagne (technically, you can't call it champagne unless it is grown in the Champagne region of France) and can typically be found for $10-$15 a bottle.  Unlike some other cheap sparklers, it's often just the right balance of sweet and dry.  This page has some great suggestions of actual labels.  (In case you haven't noticed, I hesitate to recommend specific labels of wine, because state rules vary so widely that something easily located in Kentucky is not at all easy to find in another state.)

Picking up a bottle of Riesling, Vinho Verde, and Prosecco, along with some cheeses, crackers, figs, and maybe some fruit tartlets would make for an amazing wine tasting party! 

(If you're interested in venturing even further into the 'red' category, check out this article from the New York Times about the return of Lambrusco.  It's not just Riunite anymore!)

Walking with my daughter

Walking with my daughter is a bit like walking around with the eye of a photographer.  When I match her slow stride, I see things I don't normally pay attention to.  While I wait for her to pet the doggies at the Farmer's Market, I look around a little bit more than normal.  When I squat to wipe her mouth, I see angles that I haven't seen before.

Creativity in the Smokies...a guest post

When I found out that my good friend, Sara, from Mondo Beyondo was co-leading a women's retreat in August, I needed to know more.  And since I thought that you guys might need to know more, too, I asked her to write a guest post for A Wondering Spirit about the retreat.  Without further ado...here's Sara!

I've been wanting to teach retreats for a few years. There is something so deep and profound that occurs when a group of women come together with the same intention and goal, and focus their energy toward working in community: supporting one another, sharing suggestions and ideas in a non-critical fashion, and truly respecting the space that we have created collectively.


That was my dream for a retreat this summer. One night, not long after meeting Juliana Finch during a Twitter search for female musicians, I had a dream that she and I were teaching a retreat in the mountains. I sent her a tweet the next morning, and within a week, Harvesting Your Creative Abundance was planned. We put out a request for places in the Smoky Mountains, and Patti Digh suggested a lodge and a caterer -- within two hours.

So, who are we? Why are we teaching a retreat in Asheville in late August?

I'm Sara Blackthorne. I have been writing for the past 20 years, and even got a degree in it. I have been teaching and mentoring others in writing and storytelling for the last 10 of those 20 years, and work professionally as a writer and storyteller. My goal as a teacher is to support and nurture women to find their authentic voice and us it to speak into the world. Each moment of our lives is a potential story, and I seek to give people the tools and the confidence to use those moments and share wisdom, understanding, and new ideas with the world. I have studied with poets, with novelists, with Native storytellers and oral historians, and with everyday folks who live and breathe their stories.

My co-leader, partner in amazingness, and good friend Juliana Finch sometimes defies words. She's not only an incredible musician, but she's also a certified creativity coach who works passionately to help people connect to their creative force. She does everything: from helping you identify projects in the mass of creative energy to gently nudging you toward the finish line of dreams and goals, Juliana is at your side each step on the journey. Not only that, but she works with both individuals AND groups, so if you're seeking a community of support, she can make that happen.

A writer from Wisconsin and a singer from Georgia, coming together in North Carolina to teach a retreat. Might sound a bit strange, but here's why we're doing it:

Juliana and I are deeply committed to supporting others in the journey of creativity, self-exploration, and achieving your dreams. We wanted to create a space, even for just a few days, where women have the ability to focus on their own work, on the creativity that hold tenderly inside, but may not get to pay attention to with the stresses of families and work and households and everything else we put into motion. For two (and a half) full days, someone else will be cooking the meals. We are building the intention, as a group of creatives, to support and encourage one another in our endeavors. This might be writing, music, painting, sculpture, knitting, whatever makes your heart sing.

"But I'm not very creative" you may be saying. YOU ARE. We are all creative beings. This retreat is designed to help you connect with that creativity and find the courage to start sharing it with the world.

Thursday, August 25th to Sunday, August 28th. A lodge on 63 beautiful acres in the Smoky Mountains. A low-cost, all inclusive retreat. Two full days of workshops, salons, sharing, and maybe even a dance party. Loving support of a community of women who all want to share their unique voices and visions with the world.

This is why we're teaching this retreat.

If you'd like more information, check out the retreat page or feel free to contact myself or Juliana directly. Registration is limited to 14 women, in order to create an intimate and personal retreat. Some single rooms available.

Doesn't that sound freaking fantastic?  Please get in contact with Sara or Juliana to learn more details!  If any of my readers attend, I'd love to get a first-hand report!



We'd love to have you take the time to honor your creative being with us in August. Hope to see you there!

What to expect when you're Wondering Wednesday

Wondering Wednesday is the regular advice column here at A Wondering Spirit.  If you have a question you'd like to ask The Great Askini, please email me, DM me on Twitter, or leave your question in the comments!

Dear Great Askini,

My son, 10, will not quit scratching his crotch. I’ve sent him to shower, to powder, and even resorted to embarrassing him. NOTHING works. I’m bumfuzzled, because none of the male figures or even the butch homosexual female figures in his life are crotch scratchers. How am I going to quash this? It’s rude, obnoxious, and embarrassing to say the least.

Sincerely,

I’ve got big balls.

He’s got big balls.

She’s got big balls.

We’ve got the biggest balls of them all.

Dear Ballz to the Wall,

Man, that is embarrassing.  I mean, don't your fingers smell like crotch afterwards?  However, although I am not the parent of a ten-year-old boy, I have to say that I think it's pretty common for them to be, if not a scratcher per se, an ADJUSTER.  Like, hey, here's this stuff down here, let's move it around.  (I don't know what it's like to have external genitalia so I'm only guessing.)  I would say that he will outgrow it but I've seen some rap videos and professional basketball games that lead me to believe otherwise.  So.  You don't say, Dearest Balls, if you are this child's mother or father, but I do think that having a little chat with him might be the way to go.  Tell him that it's completely inappropriate behavior in public and that you will call him out on it if you see him doing it.  In front of his friends, the cute girl in his fourth-grade class, whomever.  If that doesn't work, maybe you can scratch YOUR crotch in front of his friends?  I'm at a loss here.  Parents of boys, hook this reader up in the comments, please!

And now for a semi-recurring feature here on Wondering Wednesday.  One of my very good friends just told me she's having a baby!  (Let's call her Knocked Up Katie.)  As a first-time parent, she has lots of questions, and has graciously allowed me to use some of her questions here on Wondering Wednesday!  I will be answering her questions over the next...oh...nine months or so. 

Dear Great Askini,

My husband and I recently found out that we are going to have a visit from the stork! We are thrilled! He's told his whole office and they are so happy for him. I look forward to telling my friends at work too, but I am terrified to tell my boss because he is a crusty old man who does not like children. In fact, when I announced my engagement, he actually rolled his eyes and was like, "Great." Do you have any advice about how I could tell him without making him even more crusty and crabby?
Sincerely,
Knocked Up Katie

I am lucky that I didn't have to deal too much with crabby bosses when I was pregnant.  However, a tip I used might be helpful for you.  I was actually interviewing for my current job when I was pregnant, and was nervous that the whole "Imma be gone in six months while I have my BAYBEE" was going to be a negative in the interview process.  So...I prepared.  I learned about the busy times at work and realized that I was going to be out right in the middle of them.  I came up with alternative solutions for how the work could get done in that time (either early, late, or from home during my maternity leave), and presented them matter-of-factly in the interview as soon as I told them I was pregnant.  Could you do something like this with your boss?  I wouldn't expect a hug and a hearty "congrats"... just keep it all business.  Tell him when you're due and how many weeks of maternity leave you expect to take, and how that will impact your work.  Then, if he's still grumpy about the whole thing, you can at least know you gave it your best shot, and then have a big fun reveal with all your co-workers.  Good luck!

Permanent vacation

Source: google.com via Ryan on Pinterest

This week was supposed to be our family vacation.  Last year we went to Hilton Head, but because of scheduling and budgetary reasons, we weren't able to get that worked out this year.  So instead, we were going to go visit some very good friends in St. Louis, take C to the zoo, do all that fun stuff.  But now we have a cat in the hospital, after a very major surgery, and even though the doctor says that we probably shouldn't worry, I'm worried.  And so, the trip to St. Louis was cancelled in order to tend to our oldest and furriest child. 

Our official "staycation" begins tomorrow.  I am planning on taking C to the neighborhood pool, maybe the children's museum, and if I get really creative, we may drive up to Newport to the Aquarium.  But today is just for me.  I'm drained.  The cat thing is hard enough, but there's so much stress at my job (which naturally occurs when everyone is in a state of un-knowing), and somehow in my life I have become the Stress Sponge.  I soak up everyone else's in addition to my own until I'm too full to move and have to be wrung out.  Today is my wringing-out day.  C is at daycare.  I have nothing on my agenda.  I may choose to go for a bike ride.  I may choose to take a nap.  I may choose to cook.  I'm not sure.  I do know that I plan to stay off the computer as much as I can.  I need time with myself to regenerate, and when I spend all day playing on Twitter and Google Reader and Pinterest (as much as I love all those things), I'm not focusing on what I need to be doing. 

What I need to be doing is laying in that hammock up there.  But what I am doing is sitting on my couch, waiting for my oatmeal to be done.  It should end up the same--with a rejuvenated, re-energized me. 

Three things I read this week

I've got very little to report, but I did want to pass on three things I read this week that I was really into:  one book and two blog posts.

Dirty Secret: A Daughter Comes Clean About Her Mother's Compulsive Hoarding by Jessie Sholl.  I love memoirs, and this one was no exception.  I was enthralled from the very first page wondering if Jessie would ever repair her very broken relationship with her mother.  If you are interested in hoarding or in mother-daughter relationships, this is a great read.

Don't Read This If You Want Your Life to Stay the Same, by Frugal Mama.  Amazing read this week that really inspired me to try and figure out what I want out of life and write it down. 

Your Weight Is Not Your Worth, from The Daily Love.  Again, what I needed to hear/read this week after my tumultuous week with my weight. 

What did you read or hear this week that made an impact?  Please share with me in the comments!

Wondering Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Wondering Wednesday is my regular advice column.  If you have a question that the Great Askini can help you answer, please either email me (see the link to the right), send me a message on Twitter (@TheGreatAskini), or leave your question in the comments!

Dear Great Askini,



My mom and I were pondering this question last night, and she said, "I wish there was someone we could email about this - like an advice columnist." Don't worry, I didn't out you, but I'm hoping you can help us with our question. Here it is: How do you handle a person who constantly talks about him/herself and interrupts your story to talk about how the same thing happened to them only it was way funnier/better/etc? My mom has a dear friend who tells long, involved stories about herself and it is causing a rift between her group of friends. She likes this friend a lot but is put off by the way her friend constantly interrupts the group to talk about herself. I have an annoying co-worker who does the same thing. For example, as requested, I brought in a picture from my wedding so my co-workers could see my wedding dress. She immediately described her wedding dress in great detail, including how it was the most beautiful dress anyone had ever seen. While she was talking about her own wedding, (in 1980!) she actually turned my picture face down on her desk so that everyone could listen to her story and not be distracted by my dress. I've chosen to just avoid her, which sometimes makes me appear rude...but not as rude as she is! My mom is wondering if she should tactfully tell her friend to please let others speak and tell their own stories sometimes. But how do you say that nicely?


Sincerely,
End of my rope Rachel

Dear Rachel,

As I pondered my answer to your question, I had to admit a very, very unpleasant truth to myself.  I think I can sometimes be one of those people.  Like, sometimes I have to consciously stop myself from saying, "Oh yeah, well, wait till you hear what happened to me!"  As if anyone gives two shits.  (However, I would like to pride myself on never having flipped over a photo of a wedding dress.)  So, the question then becomes, what would I want someone to say to me, to stop me from doing this?  First of all, I think you are taking the right tactic with your co-worker.  I mean, she's not your best friend and you don't have to interact with her that much in a social setting (I hope), so I would just avoid getting into conversations with her as much as humanly possible.  And if she thinks you're rude, who cares, right?  You think she's rude, so the feeling can be mutual.

Your mom's situation is a little different in that it's a group of long-time friends.  Has her friend always done this, or is it recent?  Because if it's recent, it could be in response to some external stress or some other need for attention that's manifesting itself.  It's possible that she just really wants someone to sit her down and say, "so, how are you?"  In fact, if I'm being honest, most of the time that I engage in this behavior, it's because I really want attention.  Or I really want to give input and I feel like no one is listening to me.  That doesn't make it appropriate, however.  In a group situation in which the friend is constantly interrupting, I would encourage your mom (and her other friends) to just nicely listen to the story and then say, "Anyway, Jane, what was it you were telling us about your favorite cupcake recipe?"  Or, if the interrupting gets really bad, your mom should politely stop the friend and say, "Hold on a second, Betty.  I really wanted to hear what Jane was saying about how prices have gone up at the local Walgreens."  If your mom's friend isn't completely oblivious, she should eventually get the hint.

Dear Great Askini,


How do you feel about the boatneck cut? Have you ever seen a boatneck dress? I'm wearing one in a wedding this weekend and my mother hates it. Actually she loves it for her 60 year old self but says I look like an old lady. I agree since the dress is solid black. Any idea how to jazz up the dress at the reception or how to act like I like this style on me when it clearly isn't for me?

Ahoy matey.
 
Dear Argh, She's Drivin' Me Nuts,
 
I have to admit, I dig the boatneck.  In fact, I have several boatneck shirts in my closet (or in the laundry, ahem) as we speak.  But let's consider the source here.  I'm not what anyone would consider fashionable, so I turned to three other sources for advice. 
 
One, my favorite fashion blogger in the whole wide world, Allie of Wardrobe Oxygen, features boatneck tees as one of her stylish trends for spring in this post. 
 
Two, my OTHER favorite fashion blogger (please ladies, don't make me choose!), Jill of Good Life for Less, talks about boatnecks from a fall post as a classic that never goes out of style.
 
Finally, I checked with one of the most fashionable people I know, the always stylish Rachel, who reports back thusly:

Boatnecks are universally flattering, so in that fact your mother is correct. But Audrey Hepburn never looked like an old lady, even when she was. I would say to go with some shoes in a really unexpected color. Something that makes you happy. Heels or flats--something bright, bold, or sparkly (or a combo of the three) will do wonders for the dress and your opinion of it.

So, there you have it.  Boatnecks are AWESOMESAUCE.  However, as Rachel says, if you don't feel comfortable in the dress, then all the fashion advice in the world isn't going to help.  You say you're wearing this as a bridesmaid's dress.  Is the bride going to freak out if you wear some really funky shoes, as per Rachel's suggestion?  Has the bride carefully prescribed your jewelry as well?  Although a necklace would really ruin the line of the boatneck, a really cute bracelet like this or some cute dangly earrings like this (all links via Target, love of my life and in no way sponsor of this post) could make you feel better about the way you look in your dress.  Above all, rock your dress with pride, my friend.  Nothing makes an outfit look better than a little confidence.

Reframing.

Source: dreaminplastic.com via Brit on Pinterest

I had been doing really well.  Since I finished the How To Stop Dieting e-course, I had been expressing my feelings more openly, listening to my body for hunger and fullness cues, and generally doing a pretty good job of controlling my desire to eat myself into a food coma. 

Then yesterday I had to go to the doctor.  It wasn't a planned visit--I had a severe allergy attack and needed to get into the doctor before I clawed all my skin off from the Itchy Itchiness of Doom--so I didn't really have time to prepare.  As soon as I walked into the office from the lobby, however, I saw it.

The scale.

(Did ominous music just play in your head, or was that just me?)

I haven't weighed myself in a while, probably six or eight weeks.  I moved our bathroom scale into our spare bedroom, where I rarely go, and it hasn't been an issue.  I was at my heaviest weight ever the last time I weighed, and it sent me into such a binge that I wasn't sure I would ever come out of it.  Plus, I've been feeling extra shitty about myself because my allergies have been so bad lately that I can't work out outside without needing an inhaler halfway through, and I haven't been able to make it to yoga.  So. 

What I should have done, if I had the balls, was told the very, very nice nurse that I was in recovery from an eating disorder and didn't want to see or be told the number on the scale.  I didn't do that.  Truth be told, I was morbidly curious, in the way that you come across a car wreck and crane your neck to look and see if you see any blood. 

It was eight pounds higher than the last time I weighed. 

Eight pounds higher than my heaviest weight ever.

And thirty-eight pounds higher than the weight I swore I'd never see again only three short years ago after my last really solid attempt at dieting.

I saw that number in my head last night every time I closed my eyes.  And then this morning, as I was getting dressed and lamenting my sad state of affairs, my eyes landed on my vision board:

Source: awonderingspirit.blogspot.com via Holli on Pinterest

Nowhere on my vision for the future does an ideal weight appear.  What does appear are running shoes, to symbolize my goal of running a marathon.  And guess what?  I walked a half-marathon just two months ago.  A lady doing downward dog, to symbolize my love of yoga.  And I just bought a Groupon to try and get myself back into a habit of attending regular yoga classes.  Finally, it says "eat healthier".  And I really, really do believe that the work I'm doing on myself will help me do that.  Even if I did eat four donuts yesterday.  Because I didn't dwell on it.  I ate a light lunch and moved the fuck on with my life.

In other words, I'm reframing this like a mofo.  I AM working towards my vision.  I AM gaining control of my life.  I DO deserve to thrive.  And the scale?  Well, it can suck it. 

Two.

Two years ago, this is what I was up to.

C's birth story, a prelude

C's birth story, part 1

C's birth story, part 2

C's birth story, part 3

Two years ago, she was this:

And now she is this:

Happy birthday, pumpkin.  As tired, cranky, sleep-deprived, and virus-infected as you've made our family over the past two years, it was worth every second.

(Oh God, I've turned into one of THOSE bloggers, haven't I?  I promise I'll be back to curse-laden posts ASAP.)

Career me.

Source: ffffound.com via Lydia on Pinterest

My two best friends (K and M) and I try to get together once a year.  After living in very close quarters for two years in college, we now live scattered all over the United States, so an annual reunion is a very nice thing.  And if there's one thing K and M can count on, after eleven years of making these trips, it's that I'm either going to have high anxiety about (a) my hair, and changes that I would like to make, or (b) my career, and changes that I would like to make.

There's some dramz going down at my current employer, which I don't really want to get into here, but suffice it to say that my boss is leaving.  The boss that I wanted to work for so badly that I took a huge pay cut to accept the position.  The boss who has become a valued mentor and (dare I say) friend.  I'm not sure if I want to work in that building, in that place, for someone who's not him. 

Then again, where else am I going to find such a sweet gig?  I work with co-workers I truly enjoy and I work a part-time schedule (30 hours/week).  Has it become trite to say "in this economy" yet?  Anyway, in this economy, I'd be lucky to even find a job, much less one that has that kind of a schedule.

But this change has led me to reconsider, for the KAZILLIONTH time, what it is I'd truly like to do with my life.  Because if it's true that "a job isn't just a job, it's who you are", then I sort of suck.  I don't know that I necessarily like accounting.  I chose it because I was good at it and because I knew I could earn a living doing it.  There are parts of it I enjoy, and parts of it that feel like nails on a chalkboard.  Over the past ten years in the accounting industry, I've come up with the following alternate career paths:

• Open up my own wine store
• Work for a wholesaler/wine distributor
• Become a yoga teacher
• Become a massage therapist
• Go back to school for some undefined degree which would magically solve all my problems
• Blog full-time
• Be a professional photographer
• Travel and write about it for magazines
• Become a nutritionist specializing in eating disorders (note: only once I get all my shit straight)
• Be a life coach (note:  only once I get all my shit straight)

Okay, so some of these do sound pretty awesome.  But the common thread that runs through many of them is helping people.  I keep saying, "I just want to help people."  And when I started thinking recently about the things that I really love about my current job, it's helping other organizations get their finances together (helping get their shit straight, as it were).  And then I started thinking, "man, wouldn't it be cool to be self-employed, working as an accountant for entrepreneurs and small businesses until they are up and running enough to hire their own person?" 

So that's my latest vision, y'all.  Would I actually really like that?  I have no clue.  But I am going to an interview tomorrow to talk to a small business owner/entrepreneur about doing that very thing for her in my free time.  I figure it will be a good opportunity for me to see if I'm cut out for that sort of work, and if so, to figure out where my next step down this crazy career path will lead. 

So K and M, you may be off the hook this year.  Now, do you think I should color my hair like this?

Source: ukhairdressers.com via Holli on Pinterest

And also, padded shorts are flattering

As many of you know, I've been riding in the American Lung Association's Bike Trek to Shakertown, a three-day ride through Central Kentucky, for several years now. There is a fundraising component of the ride (between $200 and $300, depending on the ride you choose), but for me, I always just enjoyed the fantastic volunteers, the beautiful scenery, and the chance to get out and enjoy riding my bike for three (almost always) gorgeous fall days.


This year, I have a little different motivation. Back in March, after two back-to-back bouts with pneumonia, one requiring a hospital stay, my daughter C was diagnosed with asthma at 21 months old. After being placed on daily maintenance medications, she is now doing much better, but the long-term diagnosis is still unclear. Will she be able to come off her medication in six months? In six years? Or will she struggle with her breathing her entire life? We don't know. So this year, I'm riding for C, for all the rest of the kids with asthma and lung problems, and I'm riding for a cure.

This year, the ride is September 17-19. You can choose a two-day or a three-day ride (although on the two-day ride, you do miss out on a fabulous overnight at Shaker Village), and each day you can choose a 30-35 mile course or a 55-65 mile course. Along the way there are rest stops, vans in case you have bike trouble, and experienced riders in case you need help. It's not a race... it's a way to raise money for a very worthy cause and have fun doing so.  (And hey, I'm fun to do an event with, right, Emily?)

You may hear from me again later in the summer regarding donations (sorry...fundraising is the least fun part), but right now I am writing this to encourage you to come out and RIDE! Even if you've not been on a bike in years, I promise you that by September, with a little training, 30 miles will be no problem. Registration is only $60 right now, but as of June 15 (that's 8 days from now!!!), it goes up to $65. And that's $5 you can donate to me! (Just kidding... sort of.)

Please give this some consideration. The ride is a lot of fun, even when I've done it by myself, and I have no doubt it will be much more fun with friends there along the way! The official 2011 Bike Trek website is http://action.lungusa.org/site/TR?fr_id=3200&pg=entry.  If you have any questions whatsoever, email or send me a tweet (@TheGreatAskini). I'd love to answer them! (And please feel free to pass this on to anyone you know who might be interested.)

Side note:  As you know, I work very hard to keep my identity and that of my family private on this blog.  However, if you are interested in participating and/or donating, please contact me and I will be more than happy to send you the link to my personal fundraising page.

Sick dreams

A smattering of the dreams I have had while I tried to snooze away this cold/sinus infection/whatEVER the fuck has invaded my head:

My husband and I are at some sort of sporting event.  We are talking to the couple sitting next to us--they seem nice and normal.  We are both thinking these people could be new friends.  A man is wandering the aisles of the sporting event taking bets on the outcome.  We each place bets.  At the end of the night, the man comes back to the couple next to us and empties out his waistpouch full of money, handing each bill to them.  He tells them that they won the bet and that he will have to come back with more money because he ran out.  I see him hand them at least $100,000 (in $10,000 bills, of course).  I try to tell them congratulations but they refuse to speak to us. 

I'm at the house I grew up in, but the den has been converted into a wrestling ring.  Triple H, Stephanie McMahon, and the Big Show are there.  Apparently we are supposed to be participating in a mixed-gender tag team match, which is not going to be televised.  I talk them into just hanging out instead because I am tired.  The Big Show leaves but I have a long and fun conversation with Triple H and Stephanie.  Triple H shows me underneath his hair that he has a tiny third ear.  Although he can't hear out of it, he's thinking of getting it pierced.  Before they leave, Triple H helps me move some furniture.

I am hanging out with my friend from elementary school and Caitlin.  We are crammed into a tiny truck picking up someone's dry cleaning.  Then Caitlin takes us to a restaurant and we have Nutella and banana sandwiches.  Later we meet her husband who is doing a drum circle demonstration to a group of elementary school kids.  Her husband looks just like some famous person but I can't think of who.  We have a conversation about concerts we really want to see.  I tell them that I really want to see the Arctic Monkeys (side note: is this even a band?  I've never heard of them.) and they both laugh.  I am informed that going to a concert like that will mark me as uncool for all eternity. 

And by the way, no, I'm not taking any cold medication.

Wondering Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Wondering Wednesday is my regular advice column.  If you have a question that needs advice, please contact me via the Email Me link in the right sidebar, via Twitter (@thegreataskini), or in the comments!

Dear Great Askini,

I was recently hanging out with friends when I "clicked" with a guy. Just really good conversation and a little light flirting. No problem with this if I were single, but I'm married - happily so. I have this crazy guilt for this flirting, even though nothing would EVER happen from it. He doesn't live anywhere near me, but we have talked a couple of times since then just about life issues- no sexual talk or anything like that, goodness no- the conversations are almost like therapy! Should I stop talking to him? Or am I just being hyper-paranoid because I haven't had any new male friends since I've been married? In high school and college, guys were regularly my best friends, as I generally can't handle catty girl drama. I've told my husband about this new friend and he doesn't mind. So why do I feel like I'm being naughty?

Cautiously Confused

Dear Cautious,

Ah, sounds like a case of the "work spouse" (you know it's legit when CNN covers it).  Although in your case, it's not a "work" spouse, but just a good friend.  I was getting a little nervous about your question until I came to the very end--that you've told your husband about it and he doesn't mind.  That's the first, and most important part.  If you started hiding your conversations with your new friend from your husband, that would be a very bad sign.  In general, my rule of thumb about opposite-sex friendships when you're in a committed relationship is this:  If you would feel uncomfortable with your husband having this conversation with a female friend, you probably shouldn't be having it with your male friend.  It doesn't sound like you've crossed that line, so I give your new dude two thumbs up. 

Dear Great Askini,

So my husband and I are working on potty-training our two-year-old.  We weren't really gung-ho about this, but she started using the potty at daycare and was doing so well we decided to try a few diaper-free days.  Now we've been at this for a few weeks.  Most days she has one or two accidents.  Every time she has an accident, she gets super upset and cries.  I feel awful about her getting so upset every single day, but her daycare teachers tell me this is normal and have encouraged us to keep going.  I'm not going to lie, though... I'm tired of doing all that laundry.  Is this really normal, or should we abandon Project Potty and try again in a month or two?

Alright, I can't lie to you guys--I wrote this question myself.  Any parents with more experience (and by that I mean "any experience") want to weigh in on this topic?  I would really appreciate your comments.