December 1

Saint Augustine wrote to God of time:

'[I]n you there is no "today" that passes. Yet in you our "today" does pass, inasmuch as all things exist in you, and would have no means of passing away if you did not contain them.  Because your years do not fail, you are one "Today." How many of our days and our ancestors' days have come and gone in this "Today" of yours?"

 Although I am only at the beginning of Augustine's work, "The Confessions," I am guessing that despite all his questions, God doesn't exactly get around to answering them in the form either Augustine (or I) would want.  No, written answers on iPads or tablets. But this selection has me thinking....

When I wake up tomorrow it will be December 1.  Ever since I moved out the house and could not tell Mom in person, I would call her on that day, and let her know I knew this day was hard on her.  Her sister Pat died on it in 1977.  Mom was a woman who remembered days.  Birthdays, wedding anniversaries, and death days.  She wasn't morbid, but she took the time to be solemn.  For Pat, Mass was usually in order, said in her loved sister's memory, a candle was lit as well, and, if the weather would allow, she had a quiet walk from church back to home.  Church to home. And then, at some point my phone call.  Our words were brief, but I know she looked toward the day she would see Pat again and rejoice.

So tomorrow, when Mom wakes up, if that is what you get to do in heaven, there will be no mourning, no shedding of tears, or solemn remembrance.  They will be together.  And I should be happy for that....I'm working on that....

But what if there is no day to remember, what if all our days and hers and Pat's are just one today?  If that's the case.  I'll see you tomorrow, or, rather later today, Mom...

Too much, I know.  So I will leave you with this.  A good day all and all.  A missed outside run became an opportunity to learn from a morning television preacher about self pity and its costs.  Hint.  We create our own emptiness, so work for others, and there riches lay.  I believe that.  A busy day, like other busy days, but time to connect, a treadmill purchased (YEAH! no more cold, dark runs!), a gift from Abbie, and now back to her and Richard.

Good night or Good morning.  It's all in a day.

Right or Wrong

I'm quite proficient at getting events slightly wrong.  Example.  Dressing the family and driving to the base one week in advance of my niece's wedding. Attending my friend Kathleen's dinner party one night early. Something else recently that I can't recall.  And then, today.  Leaving Abbie at home ALONE (for the first time ever) to drive to Sunday school to tell the teacher that Abbie was too sick to attend.  Guess what?  I know you will. No Sunday school today.  Or next week either (thanks for the reminder, but I might forget by then),Despite my record, the thing is that when I am doing these things, right up until the point of wrongness, I swear I'm 100% right.

Which leads me to my next truth. The odds are pretty good I'm wrong about a lot of things, strongly held convictions, sarcastic innuendo, self expectation, even more, my supposed reasonable expectations of others.

This might all be manageable, if I did not sink into my sanctimonious self defense methodology, but this is what I do.  I sink.  It might be useful to provide example here, but the example I have from just today is too personal.  I would hurt people by expressing my doubts.  I would hurt others if I did not hold to my strongly held convictions. That's the good thing about empathy.  The reason not to speak is not to hurt, and, by saying hurt I mean not only theirs, but mine for them.  But I gotta say.  It kind of leaves you alone.

So, instead, I'll do other things that help me feel less that.  Today, it included trying out treadmills at Precor (I think I found my savior in a Ground Effects Impact Control System), logging calories, starting to decorate the house for Christmas with R & A, and staying on guard against that beautiful goshawk that thinks I'll let it kill my chickens. And blogging. Day 2.

Good night.

Macaroni and cheese

November 29, 2015

I remember the day I stopped working out and eating healthy.  It was September 19, 2015.  Before then?  Before then, I had it down.  Nearly daily workouts, eighteen days into sober September, control over carbs and caffeine. What happened next? I won't bore you, but it has a name for me. Rescue mode.  The goal was to stop my mother from dying.  I didn't.  Then the goal was to get over the death.  I didn't.  Throughout, exercise went out the window, wine consumption went up, sleep came in fitful four hour cycles, and macaroni and cheese, and let's see, chocolate, bread, potato chips, mayonnaise, and every other food came calling.  Comfort.  That was it's disguise.

Now I am so uncomfortable, I can hardly move.  190.  That is what the scale read this morning.  A 15 pound weight gain in a month and a half.  I am lucky my body has this top dimension where I feel so sick, the thought of food sickens me.  But still, yuck.

I know how to do this.  I have all the supplies to do this.  Protein drinks, running shoes, fresh vegetables, daily burn, Lose It calorie counter, and finally the right attitude.  I still miss Mary immensely, but I know she would not wish this for me.

So, I am trying, one more ingredient.  Honesty and an attempt at daily blogs.  Honestly, I still hurt.  A year ago, Mom and I were planning for a trip to Honolulu.  It is unexplainable to me that she is not here now.  But, that is the truth.  Reality.  And I can't macaroni and cheese or turkey stuffing it to nonexistence.

I'm here.  I want it to stay that way.