Children to my left were dancing. Trombone and clarinet were wailing. Stomping and clapping ensued....and there was singing - lots of singing. My kind of funeral.
In the last month, I have lost three friends. Larry. My first college boyfriend. A boy with gorgeous eyes, dreamy eyelashes and a mischievous smile that reeled you in like a sea bass. His adult life - the years after we lost touch, were not easy. My heart broke for him, as we reconnected on Facebook, where he shared some of his journey with me. His death - sudden and unexpected.
Laura - a mentor from my early days in Professional Theatre. Just a few years older than me, Laura was the Cool Kid....she taught me how to laugh at myself, and made certain that I was accepted and at ease. Her death - sudden and unexpected. She died on the same day as my third friend fell ill.
Lee - A man with a spirit as large as his girth. A friend from the instant I met him, my Freshman year in College. It is Lee's funeral from which I have just returned. His death....not so sudden. Not totally unexpected.
I was honored and proud to sing with the choir today. Not my choir, but a marvelously large choir in a magnificent Church one town over. A choir in which Lee was a beloved member....in a Church where Lee was a vital congregant. Lee, with his chortling belly laugh.....Lee, who sparkled and oozed fun....Lee, who could put more syllables and intonation into the phrase "My, Dear", than any person I have ever met. Lee.....who was the embodiment of discipleship - a man who lived his faith. A man who loved children, music, theatre, movies and all things southern. A man with a wicked sense of humor, who was impressed by one's ability to accessorize. A man who didn't let the limitations of his body hamper his determination to live life to the fullest. A man who lived large....who loved large. A man who made no apologies for who he was. A man who shared his Joy with one and all.
All, gone too soon. Larry.........Laura.......Lee........... One month, Three L's.......LLL.......Live Like Lee.
We should all be so blessed - to live like Lee. To Love so deeply and openly. To revel in Laughter. To be such a good friend.To spread joy. To be an encouraging presence to those in our lives. To be fully invested in who. we. are. To Live Like Lee.
The text to one of my favorite Anthems was on the back of the Funeral Bulletin.....let us Live Like Lee - with a song in the night.....
"My life flows on in endless song, above earth's lamentation.....What tho' the darkness gather round? Songs in the night He giveth. No storm can shake my inmost calm while to that refuge clinging. Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth, How can I keep from singing...."
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Thursday, November 14, 2013
After the showers have gone.....
Johns' Explorer made the perfect Ice Pack this morning. Crackhouse Puppy needed to go out, so I gingerly slipped on my Crocs, threw on my shawl and carefully stepped outside. While waiting for my buddy to get down to business, I leaned against the car....Ice Cold, and the perfect height. It hit most of my parts that are screaming with pain this morning.
It's been a Hell of a week in the Kennedy household....actually, a Hell of a two weeks. Mr. Kennedy had a serious allergic reaction to a sulfa antibiotic he was taking to ward off any nasty infections, after he cut his hand at work and became the recipient of a number of stitches. Babiest girl has Pneumonia. Baby Girl has some weird virus that settled in her eye and stomach that also produced multiple days of hives....and me? Well, I fell out of the attic on Tuesday. (This being Thursday, I am REALLY feeling it today....).
I decided to take advantage of Baby Girl being home on a school day, and enlist her to help me with the Thanksgiving decorations...which, of course, were in the attic. She was up in the attic, getting the boxes and handing them to me for transport down the ladder (One of those nasty pull down things). Standing on the next to the top step - my body in the attic space - I reached for the box, and in the blink of an eye, the contents in the box shifted as I grabbed hold and knocked me off balance. Shift to slow motion. As I fell backwards, I twisted in mid air - grabbing for the art piece that was hanging on the wall to my left - sending it crashing to the ground. I followed. The good news is the box fell on top of me - I cushioned it's fall, so none of the contents were destroyed! I heard a screaming in my head...I assumed it was my scream, but it belonged to Baby Girl - she thought I was dead, because evidently I was neither moving or breathing (Having had the wind knocked out me). She jumped from mid ladder (She will be seeing the orthopod on Monday - she did something to her foot!) "Mama....MAMA!......are You OK?!" Me: "I......don't.......know. Go get Debbie". About that time, Babiest girl (having dragged herself off of her sickbed : i.e. Recliner) comes screaming up the stairs. There I lay....face down, trying to asses the extent of my injuries - feet...really bad. Hip....pretty bad.....Left arm.....agony.....Head.....still attached.
Baby Girl must have flown across the street, because suddenly she was back with my neighbor Debbie - a nurse. She looked me over, and shared my concerns over my feet, arm and hip. I sat up slowly, and we determined my hip was not broken....feet blue and swelling....arm excruciating. John made the 20 mile trip home from work in record time, and we were off for Xrays.
Barefoot and shaking, I managed to get myself into the wheelchair at the medical facility (Which shall not be named, to protect the innocent). It was raining - a cold rain mixed with a few snow flakes. By the time John wheeled me inside, I was damp and freezing.(John was so sweet....he laid an old towel he had in the back of the car on the pavement, so I wouldn't get my feet wet as I stepped down). The receptionist, who was expecting us thanks to a call from my neighbor, got right down to business. Name? Date of Birth? Address? Insurance?................... silence...........because, of course....we have none. Since John lost his job 4 and 1/2 years ago - we have been among the ranks of the uninsured. He works 6 days a week in a commission only job. They, of course OFFER insurance, but to pay the premium - many months that would be more than John brings home....he would owe his employers money. I am not eligible for insurance at my job, because I am not a full time employee. We have been able to supply the kids with insurance...but us? Not possible. So we have done what we have always done in our life together. We have made the best of it. Most days, while I ALWAYS think about it, I am able to deal with it.....even when friends and family make snide remarks about "Lazy no good people trying to bilk good tax paying folks out of their hard earned money." Even while I read post after post on Facebook containing cruel, hateful, ignorant rantings about "Obamacare", and how "those people" don't deserve to be insured if "they" don't work for it.
I have been advised more than once to keep my political leanings to myself, and out of the public forum. Wise advice, in light of what I do for a living. Advice that I generally adhere to, because I have no desire to hurt anyone's feelings, or make them feel uncomfortable ....But that Tuesday afternoon, full of fear and in excruciating pain, under the sneer of the receptionist who, looking down her nose at me said..."Oh we do NOT serve uninsured patients here."....well, something broke inside me. There she stood - this girl who I am CERTAIN had far less education than my husband and I do...this girl that had poor grammar and even poorer posture, with one glance passed judgement upon us as unworthy....as some of "those people".
I fought back tears in my shame.....I was embarrassed beyond measure - by this time, people in the waiting room were staring at us...trying to get a look at the "freeloaders". I couldn't even look at John....I couldn't bear to see the pain in his face....the pain that I knew full well was there. Mortified and shaking, I started to say "Let's just go home", when the receptionist said with a put upon air "Well, let me call upstairs....sometimes they see the uninsured up there". Thankfully, there was a compassionate person on the other end of the phone, and they agreed to see us (after a very large upfront payment). The Doctor was kind, and Thank You Jesus, nothing was broken, which was miraculous, given my age and the height from which I fell.
Perhaps I should say, no bones were broken...because something in me DID break on Tuesday. My shame and embarrassment turned to anger somewhere around the 3rd of many XRays.
I don't know any person who works harder than my John. He works 6 days a week at his full time job, then does furniture repair on the side. He also mows lawns and anything else he can find to do. He is a person to be admired and respected, because he refuses to let himself be dragged asunder by our circumstances. I too, take as many paying jobs as I can find, in addition to my work at the Church. Acting gigs, singing gigs... whatever pays (and is legal!), well - you can count me in!
I say this, not to elicit sympathy, or pity....but to say, "I'm mad as Hell, and I'm not going to take it any more". Each snide or careless comment or FaceBook post has taken a little chink out of my soul. I only ask, that before you post that Meme about Obamacare.....or go on a two paragraph rant about "those people"....or stand around in a group and loudly discuss those good for nothing folks that don't have insurance, I only ask that you think.....that you see my face, or Johns face, and remember that there, but for the grace of God YOU might go. We never in our wildest imaginings would have dreamed that at our age, and level of education and work experience we would find ourselves in such a spot - but here we are, and here we have been for quite some time.The AFFORDABLE CARE ACT is, at this point, our only hope for insurance.....and it's not just us.....it is millions like us.....hardworking people, trying to do their best with circumstances beyond their control.
So yes....I did break something on Tuesday....and in a way, I am glad. Because I will no longer be ashamed, and afraid that someone might "find out" that we have no insurance. And if you are among my friends or family to post something hateful on FaceBook, or engage in a conversation in my hearing, rest assured that I will be privately sharing with you my point of view. Not in a public forum such as you have used to chip away at my self esteem, but privately and intently. I will defend your right to believe as you choose -I always have, and I always will....but I will no longer stand quietly by and say nothing, as you have a go at "those lazy people", for as my Mama taught me, "By saying and doing nothing....I HAVE said and done something - something contrary to my beliefs".
Thanks be to God, for the mercies of this week....for another chance to Keep on Keepin On.....for "hope, of the sunshine tomorrow, after the showers have gone"......
It's been a Hell of a week in the Kennedy household....actually, a Hell of a two weeks. Mr. Kennedy had a serious allergic reaction to a sulfa antibiotic he was taking to ward off any nasty infections, after he cut his hand at work and became the recipient of a number of stitches. Babiest girl has Pneumonia. Baby Girl has some weird virus that settled in her eye and stomach that also produced multiple days of hives....and me? Well, I fell out of the attic on Tuesday. (This being Thursday, I am REALLY feeling it today....).
I decided to take advantage of Baby Girl being home on a school day, and enlist her to help me with the Thanksgiving decorations...which, of course, were in the attic. She was up in the attic, getting the boxes and handing them to me for transport down the ladder (One of those nasty pull down things). Standing on the next to the top step - my body in the attic space - I reached for the box, and in the blink of an eye, the contents in the box shifted as I grabbed hold and knocked me off balance. Shift to slow motion. As I fell backwards, I twisted in mid air - grabbing for the art piece that was hanging on the wall to my left - sending it crashing to the ground. I followed. The good news is the box fell on top of me - I cushioned it's fall, so none of the contents were destroyed! I heard a screaming in my head...I assumed it was my scream, but it belonged to Baby Girl - she thought I was dead, because evidently I was neither moving or breathing (Having had the wind knocked out me). She jumped from mid ladder (She will be seeing the orthopod on Monday - she did something to her foot!) "Mama....MAMA!......are You OK?!" Me: "I......don't.......know. Go get Debbie". About that time, Babiest girl (having dragged herself off of her sickbed : i.e. Recliner) comes screaming up the stairs. There I lay....face down, trying to asses the extent of my injuries - feet...really bad. Hip....pretty bad.....Left arm.....agony.....Head.....still attached.
Baby Girl must have flown across the street, because suddenly she was back with my neighbor Debbie - a nurse. She looked me over, and shared my concerns over my feet, arm and hip. I sat up slowly, and we determined my hip was not broken....feet blue and swelling....arm excruciating. John made the 20 mile trip home from work in record time, and we were off for Xrays.
Barefoot and shaking, I managed to get myself into the wheelchair at the medical facility (Which shall not be named, to protect the innocent). It was raining - a cold rain mixed with a few snow flakes. By the time John wheeled me inside, I was damp and freezing.(John was so sweet....he laid an old towel he had in the back of the car on the pavement, so I wouldn't get my feet wet as I stepped down). The receptionist, who was expecting us thanks to a call from my neighbor, got right down to business. Name? Date of Birth? Address? Insurance?................... silence...........because, of course....we have none. Since John lost his job 4 and 1/2 years ago - we have been among the ranks of the uninsured. He works 6 days a week in a commission only job. They, of course OFFER insurance, but to pay the premium - many months that would be more than John brings home....he would owe his employers money. I am not eligible for insurance at my job, because I am not a full time employee. We have been able to supply the kids with insurance...but us? Not possible. So we have done what we have always done in our life together. We have made the best of it. Most days, while I ALWAYS think about it, I am able to deal with it.....even when friends and family make snide remarks about "Lazy no good people trying to bilk good tax paying folks out of their hard earned money." Even while I read post after post on Facebook containing cruel, hateful, ignorant rantings about "Obamacare", and how "those people" don't deserve to be insured if "they" don't work for it.
I have been advised more than once to keep my political leanings to myself, and out of the public forum. Wise advice, in light of what I do for a living. Advice that I generally adhere to, because I have no desire to hurt anyone's feelings, or make them feel uncomfortable ....But that Tuesday afternoon, full of fear and in excruciating pain, under the sneer of the receptionist who, looking down her nose at me said..."Oh we do NOT serve uninsured patients here."....well, something broke inside me. There she stood - this girl who I am CERTAIN had far less education than my husband and I do...this girl that had poor grammar and even poorer posture, with one glance passed judgement upon us as unworthy....as some of "those people".
I fought back tears in my shame.....I was embarrassed beyond measure - by this time, people in the waiting room were staring at us...trying to get a look at the "freeloaders". I couldn't even look at John....I couldn't bear to see the pain in his face....the pain that I knew full well was there. Mortified and shaking, I started to say "Let's just go home", when the receptionist said with a put upon air "Well, let me call upstairs....sometimes they see the uninsured up there". Thankfully, there was a compassionate person on the other end of the phone, and they agreed to see us (after a very large upfront payment). The Doctor was kind, and Thank You Jesus, nothing was broken, which was miraculous, given my age and the height from which I fell.
Perhaps I should say, no bones were broken...because something in me DID break on Tuesday. My shame and embarrassment turned to anger somewhere around the 3rd of many XRays.
I don't know any person who works harder than my John. He works 6 days a week at his full time job, then does furniture repair on the side. He also mows lawns and anything else he can find to do. He is a person to be admired and respected, because he refuses to let himself be dragged asunder by our circumstances. I too, take as many paying jobs as I can find, in addition to my work at the Church. Acting gigs, singing gigs... whatever pays (and is legal!), well - you can count me in!
I say this, not to elicit sympathy, or pity....but to say, "I'm mad as Hell, and I'm not going to take it any more". Each snide or careless comment or FaceBook post has taken a little chink out of my soul. I only ask, that before you post that Meme about Obamacare.....or go on a two paragraph rant about "those people"....or stand around in a group and loudly discuss those good for nothing folks that don't have insurance, I only ask that you think.....that you see my face, or Johns face, and remember that there, but for the grace of God YOU might go. We never in our wildest imaginings would have dreamed that at our age, and level of education and work experience we would find ourselves in such a spot - but here we are, and here we have been for quite some time.The AFFORDABLE CARE ACT is, at this point, our only hope for insurance.....and it's not just us.....it is millions like us.....hardworking people, trying to do their best with circumstances beyond their control.
So yes....I did break something on Tuesday....and in a way, I am glad. Because I will no longer be ashamed, and afraid that someone might "find out" that we have no insurance. And if you are among my friends or family to post something hateful on FaceBook, or engage in a conversation in my hearing, rest assured that I will be privately sharing with you my point of view. Not in a public forum such as you have used to chip away at my self esteem, but privately and intently. I will defend your right to believe as you choose -I always have, and I always will....but I will no longer stand quietly by and say nothing, as you have a go at "those lazy people", for as my Mama taught me, "By saying and doing nothing....I HAVE said and done something - something contrary to my beliefs".
Thanks be to God, for the mercies of this week....for another chance to Keep on Keepin On.....for "hope, of the sunshine tomorrow, after the showers have gone"......
Sunday, October 20, 2013
Nine Flights Down....Nine Flights Up......
So, I'm sitting here before bedtime - eating a Chocolate BB Bat, and drinking a Coke. Not in despair over a three week plateau (I'm stuck at 73 pounds gone), but at the end of a cheat weekend, in honor of my belated birthday trip with the whole family....All five of us - together - my favorite thing! We started the weekend off with a college tour for Baby Girl. In the Mountains, but not College Boy's mountains - further south, and west. After the tour (we all LOVED the school - it is a real contender!), and a late supper, we discussed the options for our Saturday adventure. Hiking won the popular vote. In years past, I would have been the lone dissenting voter - mountain hiking? Not my thing. In years past, Four Kennedys would have trekked away - turning back to wave at me, as I settled down with my book, on a bench close to the trail head.
But yesterday morning, I laced up my fancy hiking boots (Found new, at the Goodwill! 150 dollar boots for 5 bucks!), donned my AppState Sweatshirt (a birthday present from College Boy...did I mention that it was size LARGE?!?! Not even an "X" in front of the "L"!), and bounded down the the stairs of the borrowed cottage. As we pulled out of the driveway I grabbed the "Transylvania County Waterfall Guide", and read up on the trail. "Difficulty - moderate to high"......hhmmmm......"4 mile scenic hike"....hmmmm......Commence the internal pep talk. "You've got this....you ZUMBA for goodness sakes....your new motto is Keep on Keepin On......" Buoyed by my own inspiring words of wisdom, I settled in for some serious scenery watching. Even with the GPS, we had some difficulty locating our intended location - DuPont State Forrest. After a few wrong turns, and finally, a quick stop to ask directions, we pulled into the Parking Lot at the head of the trail (And, not a moment too soon - I forgot to mention the two cups of coffee I drank on the ride over....and Lord have mercy, let me tell you about the line at the bathroom....I finally had John stand watch outside the Men's Room while I went in.....what?......I am not proud.....) A quick picnic at the car (No tables...it is a Forrest, NOT a park, as we were told by the volunteers in the visitors center....), and we were off. Emboldened by my store bought walking sticks, I took the lead. Up hill, down hill....the Fresh Air Mountain Smell was intoxicating. It was grey, damp and cool - my favorite! I will stop here, and share with you my theory - when they are making these hiking trails, they like to lure you in with a false sense of security....modest inclines and descents....so minor as to barely be noticeable.....until you are too far in to turn around, and then.......Lord help.
We were gaining speed, as we walked down the first major incline - I was loving life - smiling and greeting people that we passed...until it occurred to me - What goes down, must go up (In hiking, that is....). We heard the first waterfall long before we saw the sign for it. Triple Falls...such a utilitarian name for such a miraculous sight. We took a right, following the arrow....and then, I saw the stairs. They went Straight down the side of the mountain....I offer not one shred of exaggeration here when I say that from the top, you could not see the last of the stairs. My entire family turned as one, looking at me questioningly. Inside, I was screaming "NO,NO, NO....you CAN NOT DO THIS". I put on what I hope was a pleasantly brave face, and nodded towards the steps - "Let's Go!". One step at a time, down I went - making note of the sturdy benches built into the railing, at every other flight. I comforted myself with the promise that I could sit down whenever I wanted or needed to. After what seemed like an eternity, the staircase made a final turn, and there before me was a natural wonder more beautiful than any I had ever seen. I stepped down onto one of the massive stones, and burst into tears. Never in my life as a Mother had I been able to share such a thing with my children....the majesty.....the awe inspiring roar....the delicious spray of water as one Fall pooled and then spilled into another, and then another....one by one, my babies patted and embraced me - John took my hand, beaming from ear to ear. For a moment, all of us stood still - enfolded in the victory. The kids scrambled over rocks, right up to the falls - but John and I sat, side by side on a beautiful boulder - silent, each with our own thoughts. Mine ranged to the miraculous - the miracle of God's handiwork - the majesty of our surroundings. The miracle of those three precious humans that are mine - playing together, as if they were small again - my heart bursting with love and pride. The biggest miracle of all - that I was able to be there with them - a feat which, 6 months ago would have been an impossibility. We stayed a long time - reveling in the moment. Pictures were taken, and then....the ascent. 9 flights down......9 flights up. I would be lying, if I said I wasn't nervous....truth to tell, I was slightly panicked. I developed a rhythm. 2 flights...stop and rest. 2 more....stop and rest.....as I reached the top, John at my side, I was greeted by the faces I love most..... each wearing a look of pride, joy and disbelief. Laughing, we turned to face the next direction signs. One led to the rest of the trail - the other, a side trail that went all the way to the bottom of the gorge - to the pool of the third waterfall. As it turns out, the nine flights down - that was only half way down.....The trail we now faced went down a mountain.....an. entire. mountain. Giddy with my previous success, I allowed my beloved family to hoodwink me into believing that I could scale an entire mountain - Down AND Up. (Perhaps it wasn't giddiness per se....more likely it was lack of oxygen to the brain from the altitude, and my recent encounter with the aforementioned 9 flights of stairs.) Against my better judgement, one foot and one walking stick in front of the other, I began the steep descent. Dirt, gravel and kitchen words were flying, as I tried to stay on my feet. More than once, feet and walking sticks tried to skitter out from under me. Before I was a third of the way down the mountain, my leg muscles were shaking, but John was always there, and together, we made it to the base of the mountain. It seemed that once again, the Good Lord provided, because there - at the place where the trail leveled out at waters edge, was a tall boulder with a flat top - perfect for the collapse that ensued. Down I went - trembling, terrified and triumphant. As I rested, I scanned the river for a rock suitable for the rescue helicopter that would surely be dispatched post haste to get me back up the dadgummed mountain. Once again my mostly grown, little children scampered off to play in the rocks. John looked at me, laughing and shaking his head...."Honey....You made it"......indeed I had. My family knows me well enough to know that some powerful magic was going to be needed to get me back up the mountain. Teasing and laughing, they took turns walking back up with me.......a bit of a climb, a rest, a song sung in harmony or a laugh.....a bit of a climb, a rest, a song or a laugh, and in no time at all, in spite of myself - I had scaled a mountain...physically AND proverbially. The rest of the hike was a breeze, after that...up hill, down hill - covered bridges and streams. 5 miles in all.
The family took turns rubbing on me last night....8 hours in new hiking boots destroyed my feet and ankles....my thigh muscles cramped and burned. But I woke up this morning, able to move. College Boy was returned to his side of the Mountain. The car is unloaded, the laundry is started, and as I got up from the computer just now to let Crack House Puppy out, my limp was barely perceptible.
So yes, I am drinking a Coke and eating a chocolate BB Bat, in my Size Large shirt and skinny jeans. Tomorrow, the Food Log will reappear and calories will once again be counted. Tonight is for savoring.....chocolate and Coke.....Size Large shirts.....remembrances of Waterfalls and Mountain Ridges that I could once only dream about (Or see in Movies - the Hunger Games, to be exact....)...experiences and victories that now live in my sense memory....Nine flights down...Nine flights up.....one step at a time....Happy Re-Birth Day to me......
But yesterday morning, I laced up my fancy hiking boots (Found new, at the Goodwill! 150 dollar boots for 5 bucks!), donned my AppState Sweatshirt (a birthday present from College Boy...did I mention that it was size LARGE?!?! Not even an "X" in front of the "L"!), and bounded down the the stairs of the borrowed cottage. As we pulled out of the driveway I grabbed the "Transylvania County Waterfall Guide", and read up on the trail. "Difficulty - moderate to high"......hhmmmm......"4 mile scenic hike"....hmmmm......Commence the internal pep talk. "You've got this....you ZUMBA for goodness sakes....your new motto is Keep on Keepin On......" Buoyed by my own inspiring words of wisdom, I settled in for some serious scenery watching. Even with the GPS, we had some difficulty locating our intended location - DuPont State Forrest. After a few wrong turns, and finally, a quick stop to ask directions, we pulled into the Parking Lot at the head of the trail (And, not a moment too soon - I forgot to mention the two cups of coffee I drank on the ride over....and Lord have mercy, let me tell you about the line at the bathroom....I finally had John stand watch outside the Men's Room while I went in.....what?......I am not proud.....) A quick picnic at the car (No tables...it is a Forrest, NOT a park, as we were told by the volunteers in the visitors center....), and we were off. Emboldened by my store bought walking sticks, I took the lead. Up hill, down hill....the Fresh Air Mountain Smell was intoxicating. It was grey, damp and cool - my favorite! I will stop here, and share with you my theory - when they are making these hiking trails, they like to lure you in with a false sense of security....modest inclines and descents....so minor as to barely be noticeable.....until you are too far in to turn around, and then.......Lord help.
We were gaining speed, as we walked down the first major incline - I was loving life - smiling and greeting people that we passed...until it occurred to me - What goes down, must go up (In hiking, that is....). We heard the first waterfall long before we saw the sign for it. Triple Falls...such a utilitarian name for such a miraculous sight. We took a right, following the arrow....and then, I saw the stairs. They went Straight down the side of the mountain....I offer not one shred of exaggeration here when I say that from the top, you could not see the last of the stairs. My entire family turned as one, looking at me questioningly. Inside, I was screaming "NO,NO, NO....you CAN NOT DO THIS". I put on what I hope was a pleasantly brave face, and nodded towards the steps - "Let's Go!". One step at a time, down I went - making note of the sturdy benches built into the railing, at every other flight. I comforted myself with the promise that I could sit down whenever I wanted or needed to. After what seemed like an eternity, the staircase made a final turn, and there before me was a natural wonder more beautiful than any I had ever seen. I stepped down onto one of the massive stones, and burst into tears. Never in my life as a Mother had I been able to share such a thing with my children....the majesty.....the awe inspiring roar....the delicious spray of water as one Fall pooled and then spilled into another, and then another....one by one, my babies patted and embraced me - John took my hand, beaming from ear to ear. For a moment, all of us stood still - enfolded in the victory. The kids scrambled over rocks, right up to the falls - but John and I sat, side by side on a beautiful boulder - silent, each with our own thoughts. Mine ranged to the miraculous - the miracle of God's handiwork - the majesty of our surroundings. The miracle of those three precious humans that are mine - playing together, as if they were small again - my heart bursting with love and pride. The biggest miracle of all - that I was able to be there with them - a feat which, 6 months ago would have been an impossibility. We stayed a long time - reveling in the moment. Pictures were taken, and then....the ascent. 9 flights down......9 flights up. I would be lying, if I said I wasn't nervous....truth to tell, I was slightly panicked. I developed a rhythm. 2 flights...stop and rest. 2 more....stop and rest.....as I reached the top, John at my side, I was greeted by the faces I love most..... each wearing a look of pride, joy and disbelief. Laughing, we turned to face the next direction signs. One led to the rest of the trail - the other, a side trail that went all the way to the bottom of the gorge - to the pool of the third waterfall. As it turns out, the nine flights down - that was only half way down.....The trail we now faced went down a mountain.....an. entire. mountain. Giddy with my previous success, I allowed my beloved family to hoodwink me into believing that I could scale an entire mountain - Down AND Up. (Perhaps it wasn't giddiness per se....more likely it was lack of oxygen to the brain from the altitude, and my recent encounter with the aforementioned 9 flights of stairs.) Against my better judgement, one foot and one walking stick in front of the other, I began the steep descent. Dirt, gravel and kitchen words were flying, as I tried to stay on my feet. More than once, feet and walking sticks tried to skitter out from under me. Before I was a third of the way down the mountain, my leg muscles were shaking, but John was always there, and together, we made it to the base of the mountain. It seemed that once again, the Good Lord provided, because there - at the place where the trail leveled out at waters edge, was a tall boulder with a flat top - perfect for the collapse that ensued. Down I went - trembling, terrified and triumphant. As I rested, I scanned the river for a rock suitable for the rescue helicopter that would surely be dispatched post haste to get me back up the dadgummed mountain. Once again my mostly grown, little children scampered off to play in the rocks. John looked at me, laughing and shaking his head...."Honey....You made it"......indeed I had. My family knows me well enough to know that some powerful magic was going to be needed to get me back up the mountain. Teasing and laughing, they took turns walking back up with me.......a bit of a climb, a rest, a song sung in harmony or a laugh.....a bit of a climb, a rest, a song or a laugh, and in no time at all, in spite of myself - I had scaled a mountain...physically AND proverbially. The rest of the hike was a breeze, after that...up hill, down hill - covered bridges and streams. 5 miles in all.
The family took turns rubbing on me last night....8 hours in new hiking boots destroyed my feet and ankles....my thigh muscles cramped and burned. But I woke up this morning, able to move. College Boy was returned to his side of the Mountain. The car is unloaded, the laundry is started, and as I got up from the computer just now to let Crack House Puppy out, my limp was barely perceptible.
So yes, I am drinking a Coke and eating a chocolate BB Bat, in my Size Large shirt and skinny jeans. Tomorrow, the Food Log will reappear and calories will once again be counted. Tonight is for savoring.....chocolate and Coke.....Size Large shirts.....remembrances of Waterfalls and Mountain Ridges that I could once only dream about (Or see in Movies - the Hunger Games, to be exact....)...experiences and victories that now live in my sense memory....Nine flights down...Nine flights up.....one step at a time....Happy Re-Birth Day to me......
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Dance, Baby, Dance.....
I was waiting to turn right - out of the Teeter Parking Lot. I looked to my left - a long stream of traffic was approaching. I was content to wait my turn. My windows were down - a beautiful breeze was blowing - Dan Fogelberg was playing - who could ask for more? I glanced once again to my left, and my eye was immediately caught by an enormous insect - hovering mid air - two lanes over...it was MASSIVE, and what's worse, even with my ever decreasing eyesight, I could see that it was a hornet. As I am allergic to everything that stings, I reflexively pushed the button to raise the windows - laughing at myself as I did so. It was two lanes over, for goodness sake - I was well within the safety zone. Now people, I must emit a fragrance that is irresistible to lethal looking, venomous stinging things - because this sucker (pardon the upcoming pun), made a beeline straight towards me! It was at that very moment that things started to move in Slow Motion - the Hornet, winging it's way towards the open window - that very window inching it's way up....It's Not going to Make it in time!! I did what any intelligent person would do - I pushed the button harder and scrunched my eyes closed. I felt the window slide into the closed position. I cracked one eye open - then the next. I looked in the rear view mirror - whew! No flying monster anywhere in sight. The front seat was clear, as was the dashboard and all other landable interior automotive surfaces. Narrow escape!
I made my right turn, onto the busiest thruway in our town. After about half a block, I rolled the windows down, and recommenced singing harmony with my Man Dan. I rolled to a stop at the intersection with Main St. I was several cars back, which put me on eye level with The Tuesday Morning Store. As I looked to my right to see what was on the sidewalk sale, I saw a crumb on my shirt. I reached down to brush it off, when it's antennae wriggled. "That's odd", I thought to myself - "crumbs don't have antennae". I came to the realization that I hadn't even eaten anything that might have left a crumb at the exact same moment that I realized I was sporting a large, live Hornet Broach! I threw the car into park - flung the door open, jumped out - right into the highway, and proceeded to give half of my little town a show that they will never forget. It is a good thing that I have been Zumbafied. Shoulder isolations.....abdominal rolls.....hip thrusting. A dance of such magnitude it literally stopped traffic. The woman in the car behind me sat bug eyed( I know...I'm punny!) as she mouthed "Do you need help?" I started to shriek like a mad woman, as my gyrations were doing nothing to dislodge the stinging demon. In a last desperate attempt to free myself, I grabbed the hem of my tee shirt and commenced to pull it off. Thank the good Lord, at that point, the wee beastie decided that it was in it's best interest to fly away, because I was prepared to go the Full Monty - right there by Main Street. In my panic to exit the car, I did not realize that the strap of my shoulder bag was hooked around my ankle, and with the last great heave of my shirt, I pulled the bag out of the car - spilling it's contents on the road, causing me to fall. I saved myself from contact with the pavement at the last moment by hooking an arm through the open window. As I bent to snatch up my bag and it's strewn contents, I gave a weak little wave to the massive line of cars that were now backed up - their drivers slack jawed and pole axed. The changing light, long since turned green, seemed to awaken the drivers from their stupors, and the cars slowly moved around and past me. With as much dignity as I could muster, I threw my bag in the car, and dove in after it. As I put the car in drive, I caught sight of my very red face in the mirror, and then I smiled.......still stopping traffic in my Fifties....that's just how I roll.
I made my right turn, onto the busiest thruway in our town. After about half a block, I rolled the windows down, and recommenced singing harmony with my Man Dan. I rolled to a stop at the intersection with Main St. I was several cars back, which put me on eye level with The Tuesday Morning Store. As I looked to my right to see what was on the sidewalk sale, I saw a crumb on my shirt. I reached down to brush it off, when it's antennae wriggled. "That's odd", I thought to myself - "crumbs don't have antennae". I came to the realization that I hadn't even eaten anything that might have left a crumb at the exact same moment that I realized I was sporting a large, live Hornet Broach! I threw the car into park - flung the door open, jumped out - right into the highway, and proceeded to give half of my little town a show that they will never forget. It is a good thing that I have been Zumbafied. Shoulder isolations.....abdominal rolls.....hip thrusting. A dance of such magnitude it literally stopped traffic. The woman in the car behind me sat bug eyed( I know...I'm punny!) as she mouthed "Do you need help?" I started to shriek like a mad woman, as my gyrations were doing nothing to dislodge the stinging demon. In a last desperate attempt to free myself, I grabbed the hem of my tee shirt and commenced to pull it off. Thank the good Lord, at that point, the wee beastie decided that it was in it's best interest to fly away, because I was prepared to go the Full Monty - right there by Main Street. In my panic to exit the car, I did not realize that the strap of my shoulder bag was hooked around my ankle, and with the last great heave of my shirt, I pulled the bag out of the car - spilling it's contents on the road, causing me to fall. I saved myself from contact with the pavement at the last moment by hooking an arm through the open window. As I bent to snatch up my bag and it's strewn contents, I gave a weak little wave to the massive line of cars that were now backed up - their drivers slack jawed and pole axed. The changing light, long since turned green, seemed to awaken the drivers from their stupors, and the cars slowly moved around and past me. With as much dignity as I could muster, I threw my bag in the car, and dove in after it. As I put the car in drive, I caught sight of my very red face in the mirror, and then I smiled.......still stopping traffic in my Fifties....that's just how I roll.
Friday, September 13, 2013
How Kelley Got Her Groove Back.....
"MOVE! FEEL the MUSIC!.....", she shouted over the deafening volume of the song. I had to smile....sweat dripping down my face, hips gyrating, feet flying - arms jerking to the tribal beat....because my awe inspiring, drill sergeant Zumba instructor had just hit the proverbial nail on the head. If only she could have shouted those words to me LAST year.
It has been a year....372 days to be exact, since I wrote my first Blog - it was about being stuck in Mid Life. As I re-read it now, I realize I was not just stuck - I was plummeting towards the downward spiral of no return. I was miserable, and old....and in pain - physically and mentally.....and fat.....very fat. I could see nothing ahead of me...I was in trouble.
What a difference 372 days can make in a persons life. They have been 372 days of loss and sorrow, pain and trouble, more loss, new life AND renewed life and laughter....and music.....and movement. In March, when I decided to loose a few pounds so I could buy a decent dress, I could have never imagined that I would be sitting here in September - 69 pounds lighter, Moving and Feeling the Music!
I have always loved to dance - once upon a time I got paid good money to dance - 5 to 6 shows a week (Get your minds out of the gutter, there were no poles involved - theatrical dance, not that other kind....). 372 days ago, there was not much dancing going on.... it was mostly shuffling and limping.....Two months ago, I stepped into a classroom - complete with an entire wall of mirrors. I stood in the back row, telling myself I was just there to encourage Baby and Babiest. - they wanted to try Zumba. I thought that I would make it through the first song or two, slip quietly out and walk on the treadmill while I waited for them to finish their class....after the first song, I knew I was hooked.Our instructor is a dynamo - an amazing dancer, and an effective motivator. And the music....it gets into your blood....and the dancing itself....the moving....it reminded me that I was alive.
It wasn't a pretty sight at first - me trying to remember how to dance. My form was terrible, and my endurance.....forget about it! I looked like a fish out of water - gasping for breath, but as the days went by, my form AND endurance returned....and my bodys' sense memory begged for more. Muscles and vertebrae loosened - one by one, awakening from their long sleep. I am now enthralled by my leg muscles - they WORK! They can pull me up a hill, or flights of stairs. They allow me to leap up from the sofa, and squat and bend down. Amazing things, really.
To my beautiful Zumba instructor - I would say, "I DO feel the music.....all the time!" More than once, I have caught myself dancing down an aisle in the Teeter, or the Wal Mart.....and sometimes, there's not even any music playing! I worry for the day that someone at Church catches me doing the Samba (Or worse still, The Wobble) down the long hall in the Children's Department. I was even chair dancing in Choir on Wednesday night! I dance in the kitchen, I dance in the driveway while Crack House Puppy plays outside (Sorry, neighbors....)...I move, and I feel the music - of life. I am re-awakened....I no longer feel old (I mean, HECK, my Zumba instructor is a year OLDER than me, and she is Fabulous!)...and while I suppose I am still a Mid Life Wife, I feel like I should change the name of my blog to "How Kelley got her Groove Back....."........Move!.....Feel the Music!......Zumba!
It has been a year....372 days to be exact, since I wrote my first Blog - it was about being stuck in Mid Life. As I re-read it now, I realize I was not just stuck - I was plummeting towards the downward spiral of no return. I was miserable, and old....and in pain - physically and mentally.....and fat.....very fat. I could see nothing ahead of me...I was in trouble.
What a difference 372 days can make in a persons life. They have been 372 days of loss and sorrow, pain and trouble, more loss, new life AND renewed life and laughter....and music.....and movement. In March, when I decided to loose a few pounds so I could buy a decent dress, I could have never imagined that I would be sitting here in September - 69 pounds lighter, Moving and Feeling the Music!
I have always loved to dance - once upon a time I got paid good money to dance - 5 to 6 shows a week (Get your minds out of the gutter, there were no poles involved - theatrical dance, not that other kind....). 372 days ago, there was not much dancing going on.... it was mostly shuffling and limping.....Two months ago, I stepped into a classroom - complete with an entire wall of mirrors. I stood in the back row, telling myself I was just there to encourage Baby and Babiest. - they wanted to try Zumba. I thought that I would make it through the first song or two, slip quietly out and walk on the treadmill while I waited for them to finish their class....after the first song, I knew I was hooked.Our instructor is a dynamo - an amazing dancer, and an effective motivator. And the music....it gets into your blood....and the dancing itself....the moving....it reminded me that I was alive.
It wasn't a pretty sight at first - me trying to remember how to dance. My form was terrible, and my endurance.....forget about it! I looked like a fish out of water - gasping for breath, but as the days went by, my form AND endurance returned....and my bodys' sense memory begged for more. Muscles and vertebrae loosened - one by one, awakening from their long sleep. I am now enthralled by my leg muscles - they WORK! They can pull me up a hill, or flights of stairs. They allow me to leap up from the sofa, and squat and bend down. Amazing things, really.
To my beautiful Zumba instructor - I would say, "I DO feel the music.....all the time!" More than once, I have caught myself dancing down an aisle in the Teeter, or the Wal Mart.....and sometimes, there's not even any music playing! I worry for the day that someone at Church catches me doing the Samba (Or worse still, The Wobble) down the long hall in the Children's Department. I was even chair dancing in Choir on Wednesday night! I dance in the kitchen, I dance in the driveway while Crack House Puppy plays outside (Sorry, neighbors....)...I move, and I feel the music - of life. I am re-awakened....I no longer feel old (I mean, HECK, my Zumba instructor is a year OLDER than me, and she is Fabulous!)...and while I suppose I am still a Mid Life Wife, I feel like I should change the name of my blog to "How Kelley got her Groove Back....."........Move!.....Feel the Music!......Zumba!
Monday, September 2, 2013
To each his own....the Victory.
I failed the class....not once, not twice, but three times. It was the bane of my existence, and my Mother was mortified. Three times in as many years, I failed the beginner swim class at City Lake Park. Each time, I was the only child that did not pass - the only one that did not get to swim in the deep end. The only child doomed to repeat beginners - not invited to continue my aquatic education, with advanced strokes and....diving. I put my little Irish foot down after the third failure and flat out refused to ever take another lesson. I must have been about 11 years old, and truly, it may be the only time my Mother ever allowed me to tell her "NO!" Shortly thereafter, we joined the Neighborhood Swim Club, where my best friend patiently spent summer after summer, teaching me how to dog paddle, then to crawl....then to give my best approximation of freestyle (Which, let me tell you, does NOT involve me putting my face in the water for even the tiniest of seconds), and finally, at about the same time I learned to drive a car, I learned to do 10 - 15 feet of the backstroke. (That dear girl also tried her best to get me to jump off of the diving board - not a high dive, mind you, but just a little one. Weary of her cajoling, in a weak moment, I allowed her to help me up the ladder. I walked to the edge, pinched my nose shut, closed my eyes, and in I went - swallowing half of the pool water as I descended - only surfacing thanks to the heroic dive and rescue efforts of my bestie!).
So now you know - I am no fish....I don't like the deep end, I hate to have my face under water, and if ever confronted with a tragic boating accident, I would be voted most likely to drown in the absence of a floatation device. My idea of swimming involves a few moments of floating on my back and kicking my feet a bit.....and I have always been OK with that.
Today, at the age of 64, Diana Nyad finished her swim from Cuba to Key West....without stopping to rest. She first attempted this in 1978, and has tried over and over again in the ensuing years - never giving up on her insane dream....Such an accomplishment! Such a feat of endurance and athletic prowess.How proud and fulfilled she must be tonight. I mention this, only because this was an aquatically momentous day for more than one swimmer.
On Mondays, I take water aerobics (We joined a gym - I LOVE it - I Zumba 3 days a week, take this Monday water class, and do a little weight work too. The girls come along, and we all have a really great time!)
Today being Labor Day however, all Night classes were cancelled. "That's OK", I said to myself -"I'll just take the morning class, since I have no Staff Meeting today". I suited up, and was right ready at the appointed hour...there was no one....no classmates, no teacher - just a lone middle aged man doing laps. It's a two lane pool (We take down the lane rope for our class), so I figured I would do my own class....I've been going long enough now that I've got the moves down. I made some chit chat with the other swimmer - you know...."Don't mind me - I'm just going to hang in this corner and jog and jump around". I may or may not have scared him off with my maneuverings, because he was gone in a flash. "Great", I thought - "A private pool!" I worked hard for about 30 minutes, and started to get bored....water aerobics for one is not nearly so much fun as a pool full of people. I grabbed a noodle, thinking I would just float for a bit. I don't know what prompted me to put the noodle under my stomach, but once it was there, I realized that it cured my most basic problem with swimming. My center of gravity must be wonky, because I can never seem to stay prone in the water. Assisted by the noodle hugging my waist, I took a few strokes. "Huh", I thought. "So THIS is what it feels like to swim". A few more strokes followed, and before you knew it, I had swum an entire lap - my first ever. (It is a competition length pool - not the little short squatty kind). Emboldened by my success, I did another, and another - switching to backstroke by readjusting the noodle to the small of my back. All told, I swam 10 laps. What a feeling of accomplishment I had! As I exited the pool, my arms and legs trembled uncontrollably, and for a moment I doubted my ability to walk into the dressing room, where Baby girl was waiting....I must have looked a sight - rubber band limbs and all - grinning from ear to ear. Diana Nyad's got nothing on me! I am sure that she is exhausted....so am I. I am sure that she is incredibly sore.....so am I. I am sure that she has limited mobility at the moment....so do I!(It was a real trick reaching my arms high enough to get my coffee mug off of the shelf after supper, let me tell you!) She may question her decision to make such a grueling, punishing swim....I know I feel that perhaps 10 laps on my first go round was about 5 laps too many! And I am just guessing here, but I bet she is already plotting her next swim.....as am I....to each his own....the Victory!
So now you know - I am no fish....I don't like the deep end, I hate to have my face under water, and if ever confronted with a tragic boating accident, I would be voted most likely to drown in the absence of a floatation device. My idea of swimming involves a few moments of floating on my back and kicking my feet a bit.....and I have always been OK with that.
Today, at the age of 64, Diana Nyad finished her swim from Cuba to Key West....without stopping to rest. She first attempted this in 1978, and has tried over and over again in the ensuing years - never giving up on her insane dream....Such an accomplishment! Such a feat of endurance and athletic prowess.How proud and fulfilled she must be tonight. I mention this, only because this was an aquatically momentous day for more than one swimmer.
On Mondays, I take water aerobics (We joined a gym - I LOVE it - I Zumba 3 days a week, take this Monday water class, and do a little weight work too. The girls come along, and we all have a really great time!)
Today being Labor Day however, all Night classes were cancelled. "That's OK", I said to myself -"I'll just take the morning class, since I have no Staff Meeting today". I suited up, and was right ready at the appointed hour...there was no one....no classmates, no teacher - just a lone middle aged man doing laps. It's a two lane pool (We take down the lane rope for our class), so I figured I would do my own class....I've been going long enough now that I've got the moves down. I made some chit chat with the other swimmer - you know...."Don't mind me - I'm just going to hang in this corner and jog and jump around". I may or may not have scared him off with my maneuverings, because he was gone in a flash. "Great", I thought - "A private pool!" I worked hard for about 30 minutes, and started to get bored....water aerobics for one is not nearly so much fun as a pool full of people. I grabbed a noodle, thinking I would just float for a bit. I don't know what prompted me to put the noodle under my stomach, but once it was there, I realized that it cured my most basic problem with swimming. My center of gravity must be wonky, because I can never seem to stay prone in the water. Assisted by the noodle hugging my waist, I took a few strokes. "Huh", I thought. "So THIS is what it feels like to swim". A few more strokes followed, and before you knew it, I had swum an entire lap - my first ever. (It is a competition length pool - not the little short squatty kind). Emboldened by my success, I did another, and another - switching to backstroke by readjusting the noodle to the small of my back. All told, I swam 10 laps. What a feeling of accomplishment I had! As I exited the pool, my arms and legs trembled uncontrollably, and for a moment I doubted my ability to walk into the dressing room, where Baby girl was waiting....I must have looked a sight - rubber band limbs and all - grinning from ear to ear. Diana Nyad's got nothing on me! I am sure that she is exhausted....so am I. I am sure that she is incredibly sore.....so am I. I am sure that she has limited mobility at the moment....so do I!(It was a real trick reaching my arms high enough to get my coffee mug off of the shelf after supper, let me tell you!) She may question her decision to make such a grueling, punishing swim....I know I feel that perhaps 10 laps on my first go round was about 5 laps too many! And I am just guessing here, but I bet she is already plotting her next swim.....as am I....to each his own....the Victory!
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Up the Down Staircase......
I had become a really good excuse maker......"My knee hurts"......"I'll meet you up there in a minute"......"No, I'd rather stand, thanks"........After 8 years of Open Houses and Concerts at our little school, I had a whole repertoire.....all designed to keep me from having to climb the numerous flights of stairs, or sit in those desks....you know, the torturous ones that have the table top attached to the seat. Why did I go to such lengths, to avoid those things? Because I couldn't climb one of those flights of stairs (much less the three flights required to go from the lower building to the upper) without being so out of breath that I thought I might faint. Because I could not so much as wedge my ever increasing girth into one of those demon desks in a classroom, That's why!
Tonight, at the 9th straight Open House I have attended at our little school (Where Baby Girl will be a SENIOR!) ( Babiest Girl would have been a Freshman, but I can now release the news that she will be attending a fancy school in a neighboring town, and BOY, is she excited!), I climbed those stairs - ALL. OF. THEM.....even the three flights between buildings. I sat in those desks - with room to spare between my body and the laminate desktop....Nothing hurt, I was never out of breath....not once, and my biggest fear of all, getting stuck in one of those damnable desks - evaporated - like a drop of rain falling on a steamy sidewalk. As cheesy as it sounds, I don't mind admitting that when I climbed the last few steps of the three flights, the song from Rocky was blaring in my head, resonating with a jubilance reserved for major life events....and make no mistake....this. was. one.
There have been many such victories, in the last few weeks - I have made the transition from Plus Size clothing to what I have long referred to as Regular People clothing. I can cross my legs - something I haven't done in over 20 years. I can reach the back of my head with my curling iron, and not have to prop my arm on the wall by the sink to hold it there. I can bend over in a chair and buckle my shoes. I can once again, for the first time since we were Newlyweds, steal one of Johns Tee Shirts and have it be big enough for a night shirt. My rings, once devices of circulation strangulation are now falling off of my fingers (I recently lost my thumb ring - only to find it on the floorboard of the car). I can work in the yard, and use a dustpan. I can get down on my knees to peer into the cavernous depths of my baking dish cupboard, AND get back up. I actually carried boxes and other assorted heavy items into College Boys Dorm last weekend....multiple trips, up stairs and hills, instead of staying in the room and "organizing", like I did last year....in short, after 62 pounds lost, I am a functioning human again.
I list these things, not to brag, but to catalog....against the day that I falter - days when temptation and diet exhaustion get the better of me....to remind myself that NOTHING tastes as good as climbing those stairs tonight FELT....to remind myself that a large Coke from the Sonic is a poor substitute for the satisfaction I felt as I slipped into that desk.....to remind myself that there are even greater things waiting for me at the end of this weight loss journey....bike rides, and a hike up to the Appalachian Trail.....zip lining and indoor skydiving (Hey - they're on my bucket list)....high heels and a slinky dress (Yes, the Diva in me only lies dormant - not dead!).....Health....Fitness....who knows what I will dream up while I loose the last 40 pounds....after all....you're only as young as you feel.....Thanks be to God.
Tonight, at the 9th straight Open House I have attended at our little school (Where Baby Girl will be a SENIOR!) ( Babiest Girl would have been a Freshman, but I can now release the news that she will be attending a fancy school in a neighboring town, and BOY, is she excited!), I climbed those stairs - ALL. OF. THEM.....even the three flights between buildings. I sat in those desks - with room to spare between my body and the laminate desktop....Nothing hurt, I was never out of breath....not once, and my biggest fear of all, getting stuck in one of those damnable desks - evaporated - like a drop of rain falling on a steamy sidewalk. As cheesy as it sounds, I don't mind admitting that when I climbed the last few steps of the three flights, the song from Rocky was blaring in my head, resonating with a jubilance reserved for major life events....and make no mistake....this. was. one.
There have been many such victories, in the last few weeks - I have made the transition from Plus Size clothing to what I have long referred to as Regular People clothing. I can cross my legs - something I haven't done in over 20 years. I can reach the back of my head with my curling iron, and not have to prop my arm on the wall by the sink to hold it there. I can bend over in a chair and buckle my shoes. I can once again, for the first time since we were Newlyweds, steal one of Johns Tee Shirts and have it be big enough for a night shirt. My rings, once devices of circulation strangulation are now falling off of my fingers (I recently lost my thumb ring - only to find it on the floorboard of the car). I can work in the yard, and use a dustpan. I can get down on my knees to peer into the cavernous depths of my baking dish cupboard, AND get back up. I actually carried boxes and other assorted heavy items into College Boys Dorm last weekend....multiple trips, up stairs and hills, instead of staying in the room and "organizing", like I did last year....in short, after 62 pounds lost, I am a functioning human again.
I list these things, not to brag, but to catalog....against the day that I falter - days when temptation and diet exhaustion get the better of me....to remind myself that NOTHING tastes as good as climbing those stairs tonight FELT....to remind myself that a large Coke from the Sonic is a poor substitute for the satisfaction I felt as I slipped into that desk.....to remind myself that there are even greater things waiting for me at the end of this weight loss journey....bike rides, and a hike up to the Appalachian Trail.....zip lining and indoor skydiving (Hey - they're on my bucket list)....high heels and a slinky dress (Yes, the Diva in me only lies dormant - not dead!).....Health....Fitness....who knows what I will dream up while I loose the last 40 pounds....after all....you're only as young as you feel.....Thanks be to God.
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