"What's the point of an expiration date on blue cheese?" -Maxine

I was watching The Today Show this morning and they were showing dressy, semi-dressy & casual outfits to wear for New Year's Eve. (I'll be in my sweatpants.) The woman's outfit for semi-dressy was a jumpsuit with a jacket.

My question is this:

Do you have to get completely undressed to go to the bathroom? 

If that's the case, and I'm pretty sure it is because I highly doubt "classy" jumpsuits come with the rear-end-flap for easy-to-go-access, then, seriously, how do people "go"?

My solutions? Either plan to not go to the bathroom all night, so no drinking at all, become dehydrated and wind up in the hospital. Or save all that drama and wear a catheter.

"When doing home repairs, nothing's more important than a good screwdriver. Which reminds me, I need to buy more orange juice." -Maxine

Seriously. I could use a drink.

This morning I was feeling ambitious and decided I'd change my RO filters by myself.

I should have known better when Jerry the Plumber told me, when he installed the system, to call him when it was time to change the filters. I should have known.

But, what a waste of his time, I thought. I thought, Hell, I can figure this shit out. It's just following directions. Right? RIGHT?

The thing is, you have to actually FOLLOW THE DIRECTIONS. I'd never survive The Amazing Race. I'd read the directions and figure I could skip a part and then I'd have a 4 hour delay for cheating.

I've screwed up twice. I started all this around 9:30. It's now well past 11. And I'm not even done.

I've cussed worse than a sailor for the past hour. I'm pretty sure Bella's never going near the sink again.

But finally....FINALLY....I think I've got it figured out. Only 20 more steps and I'll be done!

My god, it's time for a damn cigarette.

"I have a little Christmas tradition I like to keep: Every year I knock over the tree & smash all the ornaments just to see the look on the cat's face when she realizes I beat her to it." -Maxine

Thankfully, that did not happen though Bella came awfully close a few times. For a fat cat, she sure is agile and can jump anywhere and balance on anything. It's quite amazing.

Elvis, on the other hand, isn't doing so well. I'm pretty sure he's blind or at least partially blind. When he ventures out of the bedroom (& Bella doesn't hiss/growl at him), if I've moved something or there's something in his path he isn't used to, he runs into it. And jumping onto the bed is quite the feat. He can sense where the bed is and then over-leaps onto it. It's a good thing he's got more air than he needs because I suspect soon he'll need it. Cats are amazing creatures. Even though he's blind, his whiskers help him sense things before he smacks his head into it, like the wall. Though sometimes, like today when I was taking down my Christmas decorations and rearranging furniture, he moves too fast and runs into things. And even though Bella growls & hisses at him, he apparently doesn't know she's there and walks right up to her and then he turns away. He might be deaf, too. You can't really tell with a cat because they ignore me most of the time anyway.

It's heartbreaking to watch.

I am now a seeing-eye-person for my cat.

I'm really sad that I can't see the gorgeous blue of his eyes anymore. His pupils have been hugely dilated for a couple of weeks now. At first, after Mom's super-sleuthing on the internet, I thought it was because he was terrified. AND, I thought his enlarged pupils might have had something to do with his lack of sight. But now, I think he's still terrified, but I think his eyesight is just gone. Trying to jump off the back of the recliner when Bella jumped up and instead of sticking the landing, fell, may have something to do with all of this.

I keep telling myself, "He's almost 17 years old. He's lived a good, long life. If it's his time, it's his time." I'm just going to provide as much love & care & security & safety as I can while I can. He deserves a happy ending.

I just hope he goes silently in his sleep (& preferably NOT when he's under the covers with me) and that he doesn't try to jump somewhere and fall and break something. I don't think I could handle that....again. Watching Chica decline so quickly was the worst thing ever. I don't want to go through that again...but I will if I have to because I love him so damn much.

"I'm learning to live with less. Less stamina, less patience, less enthusiasm..." -Maxine

It's been a rough few days. I mean, nothing bad has happened - I didn't break my hip when I fell on the ice Saturday morning. As far as I know, my brother's still alive after borrowing Dad's truck the same icy day. Neither of the cats have killed each other....yet. But...Saturday, I cried. I can't remember the last time I cried. I mean, really cried. I tear up at commercials for pity's sake, but I don't all-out-cry. Saturday, however, I cried and wound up in bed with Elvis just crying into his fur.....and then I realized how ridiculous that was and, especially, how dangerous and got up & ate. Of course I ate. What else would I do?

I think the problem was all of this combined:
I didn't work out and it was obviously too slick to walk.
I fell (though I don't think that had much to do with anything. It just happened.)
I watched The Giver. *sigh*
I finished reading The Memory of Running.

It was the last two that really got to me. The Giver. Is there any story more thoughtful? One that really makes you think & feel? I doubt it. And The Memory of Running. You know, usually, when I get towards the end of a book (about 1/4 left) I'll really starting skimming it to get to the good part. But not The Memory of Running. I read every damn word and at the end of it, I just cried. It wasn't even really all that sad, but the parallels to me & my family were too close. I'm pretty sure neither of my brothers would lose their shit enough to do what this guy did (I won't tell you in case you haven't read it yet) but it's nice to think they might. lol.

Sunday was a better day. I worked out because even though my brain tells me I really don't want to, my body screams at me to get moving or else I'm going to lose my shit. And that scares the bejesus out of me. So I worked out. I felt better. I watched a comedy (The Other Woman - ok) and did not watch or read anything sappy. No more tears!

And then Monday I watched the last movie I rented from the library - If I Stay. I've read the book so I didn't think.....well, I didn't think. I lost my shit again. I just cried and let the tears roll down my cheeks onto Bella's back. This is why I hate sappy movies. I can't keep my shit together. Only horror, action and comedy from now on! I hadn't worked out, either.

Today's a better day already. Even though they're calling for snow, I walked and ran. It was good to get outside & exercise....especially when it's chilly & sort-of snowy. Made me smile. And I'm doing laundry and cuddling with Bella and trying to keep Elvis alive (seriously, if he dies, you might as well lock me up for a week) and watching only non-teary-shows on t.v. and only reading a scary Dean Koontz book (which is also hitting a little too close to home; weird) and today will be a better day...and tomorrow, and the next and the one after that and so on & so forth.

On another completely different note, with Reese Witherspoon's movie "Wind"? "Walk"? What the hell is it called? WILD, I think - with it coming out in the theaters and finishing The Memory of Running, I'm wondering if the fates are telling me to leave everything behind and go on a trek across the states. If they are, they're going to be seriously disappointed because no way in hell am I leaving my cats behind. :)

"My jean size practically matches my bra size - 36 long!" -Maxine

I have so many great ambitions at 2 o'clock in the morning when I can't get back to sleep and Bella's crowding my feet which are now stuck under the covers and entirely too hot and Elvis is staring at me with his dilated pupils and trying to lick my hair.

I'm going to write a book. I'm going to take all of my chocolate to Mom & Dad's to get it out of my house. I'm going to run the entire route tomorrow. I'm going to.....kill one or both of these cats if they don't leave me the hell alone so I can properly keep myself awake with all my thoughts! Stop disturbing me!  

Only one of those things actually happened this morning and even that's a lie. I took "all" my chocolate to Mom & Dad's. I say "all" because I have a lot. I mean, it's like I thought the store was going to stop carrying peanut butter M&M's and decided to buy them out. I'm a chocolate hoarder. I'm a choarder. So, to lessen my embarrassment when Mom opened the grocery bag of chocolate and gasped at how much was in there (already), I left 2 bags in my cupboard. I'll start dieting in a few days. After all the chocolate is gone. And I won't - really, I won't - buy any more the next time I go to the store. Sound familiar? It should. It's exactly how I behaved when I was drinking. Exactly. Spot on. But this - THIS - I will beat without having to go to peanut butter M&M's rehab. Only because it doesn't exist. Can you imagine? That would be awesome. All these overweight, morbidly obese, choco-pb-aholics  telling their story of the first time they popped one of those delicious morsels into their mouth....and how one just wasn't enough and two wasn't enough and they finally realized they'd eaten the whole damn bag in one sitting.  There. That was my confession. Hi. I'm Amy. I'm a choco-pb-aholic.

*sigh*

It isn't like I didn't realize I was fat. I mean, it's pretty much all I've talked about, thought about, wrote about for the last 6 months. But when I went shopping at Gordman's Wednesday (after hitting my AA meeting, which I desperately needed) I tried on probably 7 tops, all size L or XL and I seriously looked awful. I had a $10 coupon because I'm a G-rewards holder (which means it took me 2 years of shopping at Gordman's to get a measly $10) and was jonesin' to spend it on me. I wanted a pair of leggings because everybody seems to be wearing them these days and they look good on everybody else so surely they'd look good on me, too. Wrong. Flat-out wrong. And I wanted a top to wear over the leggings and.....nope, that didn't work out. I ended up buying a MEN's size M long sleeve henley and it fits beautifully. And yes, I did buy some leggings which turned out to be tights so they're sort of see-through even though they're lined with fleece. *sigh* I'll only wear them at home and hope the Fed Ex guy doesn't appear at my door.

My lesson from this? Don't even bother shopping in the women's section. Go directly for the men's clothes.

Oh, yeah, and also, STOP EATING SO DAMN MUCH!

Thus, the revelation that I needed a chocolate intervention and I doubted anybody was going to do one for me so I had to do it myself and that meant bagging up my chocolate and taking it to Mom & Dad's. I have a feeling I just did my Dad a huge favor. Or a really bad one. I can't decide. I want everybody around me to be fatter than me so.....good for me. Bad for him.

Last night I thought about how long I've been unemployed (10 months, officially; 1 yr 9 mos unofficially) and reflected on what I've done in that time. Let's see: I got a job. I had a breakdown. I quit the job. I looked for a job. I got a job. I had another breakdown. I quit the job. I went to the hospital. I was sick as a dog. I weighed 106lbs. I slowly started to feel better. I ate and ate and ate. I read a lot of books. I exercised. I mowed the lawn. I watched t.v. I got a cat.

Is that it? Really? Geesch. Loser.

I'm reading a book: The Memory of Running. I'm not sure it's a good book for me to be reading right now at this very moment because it involves an overweight, smoke-fiend, alcoholic and a schizophrenic woman who poses all the time and has voices in her head and, well, it all hits just a little too close to home for comfort, you know what I mean? But it's good. It really is. Just, maybe, not good for me. Anyway, I'm reading the book last night before falling asleep (which evaded me most of the night) and thought, "Hell, I could do this." I've never really thought I could write a book before. I mean, I do this but this is just random thoughts bouncing around in my head and in no way is cohesive. To sit down and write something meaningful is hard. Really hard. But last night, I was feeling ambitious and thought "I need to get a spiral notebook and just start writing. Start at childhood and go from there. Easy-peasy." In the hard light of day, I think it's better to read than to write.

And no, I did not run the entire route this morning. What am I? Crazy? Trying desperately to have a heart attack? No. I walked most of it and ran a little of it. It still felt good and I still sweat like a fiend. I'm hot all the time. Because I have such good insulation. So I turned my heat down from 62 to 60. I'm still hot. If I don't lose this weight. summer is going to be brutal. More so than normal, anyway. Elvis is under the covers all the time and Bella is braving the bed to sleep at my feet even though I have a fan blowing directly on me and she has to still be cold. Apparently my feet provide warmth. The cats might freeze, but I won't be sweating.

......."Once upon a time there was a little girl who loved animals, her family (except her brother when he forced her to play Monopoly), playing outside and getting dirty. Little did she know who she'd become."

"I'm at the age where I can achieve "that layered look" completely naked!" -Maxine

First, some good news. Bella is doing fantastically in her new home. She's playful in the mornings. Goes a little psycho in the unfilled bathtub. She also runs through the house after she poos (exactly like Chica used to do!). I think it's such a relief, she just has to run. And Elvis is adjusting, if a little more slowly. He ventures out of the bedroom once or twice a day, only to run scrambling back to it when he sees Bella. He'll figure it out. I have faith. And Bella is slowly making her way into the bedroom even though it's Elvis' lair. Last night, I woke up to Elvis sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, meowing his head off because Bella was on the foot of the bed and growling at him. Most of the time, I think Elvis is deaf & blind because he doesn't seem to see or hear Bella, but now I know it's just selective hearing....

I love, love, love having Bella in the house. She just reminds me so much of Chica, it's uncanny. She's playful and cuddly and loving and purrs constantly and territorial and balances her fat body like you wouldn't believe. I'm so glad I had the nerve to get her.

So, that's the good news.

The bad news is, I swear I've gained another 5 lbs. I'm staring at 140lbs. How is that even possible?!? Oh, right, I sit on my fat ass most of the day and at night, I gorge myself on peanut butter M&M's. Well that's it! I've bagged all the chocolate in the house and sent it upstairs where it'll be more difficult to reach. Who am I kidding, right? *sigh* Weight gain sucks. I keep thinking, "oh, I'll get sick eventually and won't be able to eat and then I'll lose a bunch of weight so it's good that I've gained so much so I'll have something to lose!" Who thinks like that? An addict, that's who. Justify, justify, justify. For pity's sake! I'm unemployed! If nothing else, I should be getting this ass in shape while I've got the time! What's funny is that it's not like I'm not in shape. I workout on those mornings I can't get outside. I walk and slowly run when I can get outside. So, I'm in shape....I just don't look or feel like it. I want to look & feel like it!!!!

I was the same way when I was drinking. I'd wake up every morning remorseful that I'd spent the night before bingeing on alcohol and swear I wouldn't drink that day (or ever again) and inevitably, I'd be right back at the grocery getting another 18 pk that very afternoon. I have no willpower. But "out of sight, out of mind" is a good adage to live by so we'll see if my sneakiness against myself keeps myself from finding and eating the entire bag of M&M's tonight....by myself. Can a person trick themselves? I'm gonna try.

On the good news-bad news front, I wasn't sure the new sneakers were working out so well. I walked Monday and by the time I got home, my shins hurt so bad, I wanted to scream. But....I'd walked up the gravel hill instead of down and that always hurts the shins so.....Tuesday I went the other way and made it two blocks before my shins were screaming at me. I almost called Mom to come pick me up because I was sure I wasn't going to make it the whole 1.5 miles. But...I kept telling myself, "eventually, the pain will turn numb and I won't feel anything so just use your thighs, use your thighs, use your thighs - who needs shins anyway?" and I made it home successfully. Wednesday, I worked out at home to give my shins a rest; yesterday I didn't do anything because I walked through Walmart about 20 times (I was very inefficient) so figured that was enough....But today, after weighing myself, I squished my fat body into my walking clothes and took off. My shins didn't hurt until about 1/2 way through and then I ran. I didn't think I'd be able to, but what I found out was, my shins don't hurt when I run. The rest of me hurts, but not my shins. So here's the take away. What's the lesser of two evils? Walk & shins hurt or run and everything else hurts? I'll walk until my shins hurt so bad my legs are crumbling on themselves and then I'll run until my lungs/back/shoulders/hips can't take anymore. Pretty much what I was doing before, right?

*sigh*

You know that Weight Watchers commercial? "If you're happy and you know it eat a snack. If you're sad and you know it, eat a snack. If you're bored, if you're sleepy, if you're anxious, if you're creepy (I don't think that's the actual song, but creative license...), eat a snack!" I love that commercial because it is so me. Bored? Eat a snack! Now, I need to: Bored? Work out! Do jumping jacks! Get out of the recliner and out from under the electric blanket and Bella and do something! That's my goal for today - eat less, move more. Simple, right?

 I'm hungry.

"Shop till you drop is a distinct possibility at my age." -Maxine

Bella arrived Friday pre-evening, around 5pm. She checked out the whole house for an hour (getting within a foot of Elvis and hissing like mad) and then promptly made this her home. She jumped onto my lap and plopped her 17lb ass right down and didn't move for a long while. I felt like she claimed me as her own. She reminds me so much of Chica. Must be the girl in her, though we know, being a girl doesn't necessarily mean they're going to be a good fit. Re: Dale. So I was ecstatic when Bella turned out to be a fun, friendly, growly, normal cat.

I didn't sleep more than an hour Friday night.

I left just the one litter box and food station. I'm of the mind, they have to live together, they better figure out how to get along. Yeah. One night of no sleep nixed that idea. Now they each have their own litter boxes and their own food stations, though Bella seems to eat & drink whatever's available, wherever it is. Thus, the 17 lbs to Elvis' 8.

There was a lot of growling and hissing Friday night but no aggressive attacks so that was promising. Though, when I went shopping Saturday from 9am-3pm, I was glad I had locked Elvis in "his" (my) bedroom with everything he could possibly need and Bella out to roam the house and find her niche. Last night's sleep was so much better, with the added assistance of Aleve PM. Bella learned Elvis is the master of the bed (oh geesch) and if she wants to be up there, she has to get along. Otherwise, her ass is going on the floor. I was pretty wiped out so maybe there was more growling & hissing than I remember.

Even tough she's a hefty gal (it's all about the bass), she's seriously agile. I'd forgotten how easily cats can jump onto anything since Elvis is so old, I have to give him a leg up. Like just now, she jumped onto the desk and walked across the keyboard. She's quite the workout, lifting her off and putting her down. Yesterday, as soon as I opened the dining room curtain, she leapt onto the window frame. I couldn't figure out how something so large could get up onto something so small. Amazing.

So, Elvis is my best boy and she's my good girl.  *sigh* Something seems so wrong about all that, but I'm happy so.....

Went Christmas shopping with my younger brother yesterday. I hate shopping. Despise it. And I hate it even more when I don't have a clear goal - destination and purchase. I hate just wandering around, looking. I like to get in & get out. But, surprisingly, yesterday was o.k. I didn't hate it as much as I anticipated and while the parking lots were packed, there didn't seem to be the crush of people I expected. My hips were killing me by the time we left the mall, thus Aleve PM. Good exercise, though I'm glad I don't have to do it again. Relief.

Today's a perfect day. It's gloomy outside but the Christmas tree lights look beautiful. I have two cats that can't get enough of me and movies to watch while in my pajama pants. AND, leftovers from yesterday to eat.

It takes so little to make me happy.

""Hang in there," people tell me. Heck, I'm hangin' everywhere!" -Maxine

There were just too many good Maxine quote titles today to just post one blog....so I posted four. Each quote title related to something going on and each is completely separate from each other, and I guess I was feeling ambitious so.....there ya go.

I haven't been completely honest with you, fellow readers. Not that I've lied to you but if not talking about certain things is considered a lie by omission, then I've lied. It's just that, *sigh*, sometimes I think talking about shit doesn't do anybody any good so it's best to just ignore it and pretend it doesn't exist. Yeah. This is what 20 years of therapy have taught me. What a waste.

I feel a twinge more anxiety than I have in recent months. It isn't debilitating or anything. I'm still driving (though I did have several mini panic attacks driving to see relatives on T'giving day). I'm still getting outside and wunning. I made it to & through the stint at the library. I just pretend it isn't there. It's really not so bad. Nothing like it was last year. Livable.

And as the year comes to a close and my father's retirement nears, I'm panicking more & more that I don't have a job. I've been applying every single week. I just haven't told you about it because it's more painful to tell you I've applied and then to tell you that I didn't get the job; that I, in fact, heard absolutely nothing and didn't even get an interview. Can you say LOSER? Nobody likes me. Everybody hates me. Guess I'll go eat worms!

*sigh*

So I just try not to think about it. I give myself the morning's to fret & worry and panic and search the web for a job - any job! - and then I put it out of my mind. I have to. If I weren't able to set it aside, I'd go insane. Because in those moments, I think, "I'm never going to make it. I can't live this life. I'm such a loser. Why are there so many damn retirement commercials on t.v.?!? To remind me that I'll never retire? That I'll never have anything? That I have nobody to give anything to?" It's vicious. I'm vicious.

So I quash those thoughts as much as I can and do what I can do. It's sad, really, but I'm just proud of myself that I'm able to do normal, everyday things that everybody else does. Mow the lawn. Rake the leaves. Shovel the snow. Go for a walk. Take a shower. Stay awake all day. Visit with people. Read. Eat. Laugh, laugh, laugh. Cry. Find joy. Love my cat. Be patient. Help my mom, dad & brother as much as I can. Volunteer. Get groceries. See my therapist. DRIVE.

Really. Those are my miracles. Simple. Simply. Simplify.

I feel as if my being - my emotional & mental well-being - is precarious. It's a balancing act every day. I don't want to change a single thing because if I take something away or add something different, then the whole thing might fall apart. Tossing & turning all night? Is this the beginning of the end? It's ridiculous that my very self would be so easily diminished....but that's how it begins. The small things. A little thing here. A little thing there. And suddenly I'm loony tunes.

*eye roll* It shouldn't be this way.

And not only all of that "feeling bad about myself" but you know that skin disease I've got? Haven't had any problems for a long while....well, maybe a little one here & there but nothing bad.  I think I'm on week 3? of a cluster of 3. One goes away and two are left. One of those goes away and the other one's back. And now I've got another one, a very small one, on the other side of my body. Woke me up all night long. They're not as debilitating as others I've had. They're in better places (like there's a "better" place?) They're just short bursts of pain if I move my body a certain way or sit down or roll over or walk or move at all. LOL. I think it's just from being all bundled up, walking & running, and sweating that causes these things. Of course, it might be stress from feeling like such a loser, but I don't think so. I'm going with the exercise...

See? See why I don't share everything? It's just too damn depressing. So I'll go on telling myself everything's fine, I'm fine, I'll get a job soon, it won't be so bad to be homeless, I'll surely lose weight, and tomorrow's a new day!

Winning isn't everything. Winning & gloating and rubbing their noses in it....that's everything!" -Maxine

Yesterday the fam got together at my younger brother's house because my oldest niece is back for a week. She's in the Air Force & stationed in NJ so we don't get to see her as much as we like. She's beautiful, smart, funny and got her shit together....unlike her aunt. It was a good visit, made especially good because finally, FINALLY!, after years of drought, I won Spoons. I think they let me...

Niece & Nephew - good lookin' kids!

"I'd throw out all the useless junk in my garage, but then I wouldn't have anything to leave the relatives." -Maxine

I think my biological clock might be ticking. It's not gonging or bonging. It isn't deafening. It's barely noticeable....but there's something going on. I think it's just that I'm older, I realize others around me are older, and I've noticed for the first time (*eye roll* I must be an idiot) that I have nobody to give anything to after I'm gone....Not that I have anything to give, mind you, but still....why do I have boxes full of treasures from my childhood and teen years? Who am I hanging onto those things for? Certainly not me because I haven't looked through them since I put them together. Like I need to be reminded how great my life was and how depressing it is now? I had potential! Now.....not so much. It's a good thing my older brother had kids. My nieces have no idea how great their lives are going to be when I pass away! Look! Old pictures of our Aunt! Old T-shirts that nobody in their right mind would ever wear again! Journals & journals & journals! Where's the bonfire?

"I just noticed some frost on my pumpkins. Guess it's time to start wearing a bra again." -Maxine

I would go bra-less 24 hours a day/ 7 days a week if it were socially acceptable. Why couldn't I have been born into one of those African tribes I saw pictures of in my Grandma Ellerbeck's National Geographics that I would surreptitiously flip through whenever we visited? (Yes, I was a pervert even as a child.) Seriously, though, I hate bras. I should have lived in the 70's. I would have burned my bras for completely different reasons than women's rights; for comfort, instead.  I hate the man, because it had to be a man who invented these infernal contraptions, for thinking women needed "lift".  Why hide the beasts? Let them roar!