LifePundit

The Good Samaritan

I am blown away by the kindness of an acquaintance, and it has made me rethink how I live my life. I am too busy to do kind things for people I know, let alone strangers. I'm changing that for 2010. You can read about the event that opened my eyes on my other blog, smellshorsey.com. I'd put in a link but I haven't written that post yet. 

I have elderly neighbors. It will be nothing to make something extra when I'm cooking dinner and send it to them. There are people in need all around me, many keeping up a brave face. I will seek them out. My New Year's Resolution for 2010 is to make sure that once each week I reach out to someone in kindness and compassion. 

I will also finish a novel or two. 

Do you make resolutions? What are they?

When You Diet, Your Brain is the First Place to Lose Weight

I'd have blogged more lately but I didn't have enough brain cells left to do it. When you diet, your brain is the first place where you'll lose weight. Mine's now down to the size of a cat's.

The rest of me looks the same, and I figure when the rest of my brain is gone, maybe I'll start to lose weight in visible places. 

The honeymoon with my gym's Biggest Loser competition is over, but I'm still showing up and doing my best. And I'm still feeling very much the winner. 

No matter what my outsides look like, I had a great moment three weeks into this that will keep me going until the end. And maybe even beyond.

Here's what happened: I'd picked up two 50-lb. bags of horse feed and had them in my car for Paul to take to the barn. He forgot to do it so they were still in my car the next morning. It had rained overnight, the horses were hungry and the wheelbarrow was too wet to use (horse feed grows toxins when it gets wet). Groan! How was I going to get the food to the barn?

Horse feed is heavy, there's no where to grab it and if you're not careful it gets out of balance and goes where it wants, usually as I'm struggling to pour it into the feed bin so it goes all over the floor. 

I thought about wrangling a bag into the house and using it from there, but there are many reasons that's not a great idea. So I picked up a bag, not really knowing what I was going to do with it. It wasn't as heavy as I remembered. So I started walking toward the barn. It wasn't really heavy at all, and I easily controlled it. Hot dog! I have super powers! I even dumped it in the feed bin with no trouble.

The horses were happy. And I was even happier. 

So what if I'm too tired to do anything and I hurt all the time? So what if I'm eating eggs whites for breakfast (is there anything less appetizing?). I can do more than I used to do. And that is an awesome new development. 

But don't tell Paul. No reason he shouldn't get a little exercise hauling feed bags around. 

Be a Fountain, Not a Drain

Lily's been on spring break all week. We've spent her vacation in the car, either driving to go look at a horse to buy, or hauling our horse in hopes that someone will buy him, or hauling the horse we've selected home for a two-week trial (Markus, pictured at left). I drove. She listened to her iPod while texting her friends. For hundreds of miles.

Still, we had a lot of quality time in the car. We had a lot of confessions. So far, I'm the only one to confess anything. She said she's not old enough to have anything to confess, and let's hope she keeps it that way. We've talked about:

• What really happened to Princess, the hamster (Tiger ate her, leaving only her hands and feet and head on the laundry rug.)
• Why I would be in a long-term relationship with a guy who thought the overhead passenger handles on the London Tube were germy so he got ME to hold them and then he held onto me.
• Why I would still date a guy (same as above) when he couldn't remember why he was standing outside a men's room so he left with me in it, unguarded. He wasn't there very long -- I promise. I had gone in there to use the facilities and he was supposed to stand guard at the door so I would have the men's room to myself. He was reading a book, forgot why he was standing there, and wandered off. His roommate came in the men's room, saw my sandaled feet under the stall door, said, "Hi, Anne. How are you?" and proceeded to use the urinal. I used my Invisible Walk to exit as quickly and as invisibly as I could. (And no, I was too mortified to cast even a backward glance.)
• And other things that don't make sense from my past.

She laughed until she cried. She even turned off her iPod and stopped texting for a few minutes.

When I ran out of things to confess, I took in the scenery. And I saw a country church sermon sign that I think I will take as my new motto: Be a Fountain, Not a Drain.

Happy Easter, all!

Nom de Plume

more animals

It's 50 Degrees and Cloudy, So They Cancelled School

I love South Carolina. Right now it's 50 degrees and cloudy. I just got an e-mail, a text-alert on my cell and an automated voice-call on the land line: School is canceled tomorrow because it might snow.

I do hope that it does. I could use some snow, so long as it doesn't hang around. Snow is best for one day or two. Not the whole winter.

Snow is a reason for a holiday. Outside will smell wonderful -- the air heavy with pine because our poor trees weren't made for snow. The snow will collect on the needles and in the branches and be too heavy for the tree. Snap! Down they'll fall. Which is all fine provided they don't fall on your power lines because then, in your all-electric, not-too-warm-from-the-heat-pump house, you'll be cold and in the dark. And if you live in the country and are on a well, you'll also be thirsty and stinky because your well won't work without electricity and you won't have water.

But sometimes it snows and the power doesn't go out. That, my friends, is a real holiday. A reason to cancel school, stay home with your family, and drink hot chocolate and marvel at the stuff floating down from the sky. Snow. That rarest of weathers.

Things I Think I Remember from 2008

I had this idea that I would post a list of books, movies, good food and other good things I remember from 2008. The only problem is, here on January 1, I can't remember.

I do remember reading an article many years ago in Harper's? The Atlantic? The New Yorker? that was entitled, "Books I Think I've Read." That's me. Except I can't remember which ones they are.

I did discover something this year that greatly surprised me. I really like Stephen King! I had read his book, On Writing, and thought it was one of the best books about writing I've ever read. I keep it on my desk and recently listened to him read it on my iPod. (www.Audible.com is a great source for books you can listen to on-the-go, though my library is rapidly overtaking them in titles that are free).

I decided to try out one of his books of fiction, and listened to Duma Key. Highly recommended. Then I read where Stephen King recommended The Story of Edgar Sawtelle (this was before Oprah, etc.) and I listened to that. Absolutely fantastic.

It's Hamlet set in Minnesota with a hearing mute boy and dogs. Riveting. And here's one of the things that made me laugh the hardest this year: one of the reviewers on Amazon panned it because she didn't like the ending. It's Hamlet! You're not supposed to like the ending. But even the ending was wonderful.

I'd recommend more but I can't remember. Here's to a more memorable 2009.

My Job is to Make You Feel Good About Christmas

So far, Christmas is upside down. No matter what you haven't done for Christmas, you're ahead of me. I've bought three gifts. One for the piano teacher, and two joke gifts for friends I met for dinner.

The only signs of Christmas at our house are a festive vinyl tablecloth (the real ones are in the attic), a Wal-Mart "seasonal" bouquet and the Christmas cards we've received from the friends who haven't given up on us.

Our tree isn't up. (And will be right-side-up.) No wreath on the door. There's just a warm spot under the bed where I've been hiding, curled up in a fetal position. That's it.

Paul is STILL working every day and night on his office. They moved this week. Sort of. The office still isn't finished, Paul doesn't own a desk (he was using his former landlord's desk), and the cube assemblers are still assembling. Cube assembly is the only job Paul has discovered he can't do himself.

You say Christmas is one week away? Well, at least it's not tomorrow.

We'll get the tree up this weekend (except that Paul and I both have bad colds, Lily's just now off crutches from a horse fall -- nothing broken -- and he's so worn out I hate to ask him to help do anything). We'll go Christmas shopping or maybe send gift cards from Amazon to out-of-state relatives. It's just one of those years.

I did buy Christmas cards in a moment of misplaced optimism. Get this: Did you know that Wal-Mart has a section for Christian Christmas cards? That did make shopping handy-dandy, but I found this odd. Do they have a section for Jewish Hanukkah cards?

And I'm looking forward to cooking Christmas dinner because it's going to be different. I'm using the Silver Palate's recipe for lobster bisque, Paul is murdering the lobsters, and we'll have good bread, a salad and tiramisu (Lily's request and she'll probably make it) for dessert. That feels lavish and simple all at the same time. I'm just sorry that there won't be leftovers to live on for days afterwards. Oh well.

My wicked MiL is coming, but we've set boundaries on for how long. (Right. Boundary trampling is a sport for her.) And then I'm going to visit my mother, who, with any luck, will know who I am. Or, even more importantly, will know who she is.

I won't let Paul put the icicle lights up anymore. They do look pretty on our porch but, no lie, one year I couldn't get them down until July. Never again.

So all you smug Internets who've been ready for Christmas since the day after Thanksgiving, good for you. My wish for Christmas is that we'll get the decorations down before July.

Is it Procrastination or Preparation?

It's good to be missed. Thank you, Nancy. What am I doing? Procrastinating! And I've found a better way to procrastinate than blogging: cleaning up and making plans for 2009.

Sort of like planning your New Year's resolutions early, only without actually having to start them for a month.

I've also been driving. Soon I'll be a Teamster, just from hauling Lily around where she needs to go. Minimum of 60 miles per day. More than that if she actually goes anywhere other than school.

So what's going to be different in 2009?

I'm going to be walking while working. I've got a new treadmill and Paul is going to build me a desk (right Paul?) as soon as he's finished renovating his new office and moving in (scheduled for this weekend. The toilet is out of our den!). Right now I'm using a piece of pink Styrofoam for my treadmill desk but it's not very stable. Walking while working is supposed to improve your health, your sleep, burn calories and annoy the cat. A Mayo Clinic researcher says that you can lose 67 pounds a year simply by slowly walking while you work. I don't want to lose 67 pounds (but I might after Christmas candy). To see a video about the concept, click here.

I'm going to do JaNoWriMo. I didn't "win" NaNoWriMo, but was very pleased with how much more I wrote so I've signed up for a similar but less technically spectacular (the web site, I mean) event where you do the same thing: write 50,000 words in a month, only the month is January. I'm going to write a romance that you will never, ever see with my name on it. Frissons everywhere!

Then there are other goals that I'd like to keep to myself. Such as not seeing my MiL at all in 2009.

How about you?

Not Everybody is as Nice as My Mother

When I say that not everybody is as nice as my mother, what I'm really saying is that my mother-in-law continued to be a trial throughout the Thanksgiving weekend.

Which doesn't mean that my mother isn't the nicest mother out there, which she is. My mother was accepting, welcoming and non-judgmental. She didn't whine, complain, or accuse Thanksgiving guests of stealing the cranberry sauce.

Yes, when I arrived home from my in-laws' on Thanksgiving night, the phone started ringing. It was my dear mother-in-law, accusing me of stealing the cranberry sauce. Little did she know how close I had been to throwing it at her, but no, I did not steal the cranberry sauce.

"So if you don't have it, who does?" she demanded.

"I don't know."

"No one else could have taken it. Are you sure you don't have the cranberry sauce?"

"I didn't take it," I said. I wondered if I should call a lawyer.

"Well, where can it be? It's not here. Are you sure you don't have it?" she said.

I explained to her in a kinder voice than she deserved that the only things I had brought from her house were the leftovers of the things I had taken there, and that in fact, I had left her a pie.

Still, where was the $&@*#$&@*$&! cranberry sauce?

As it turns out, my father-in-law had GIVEN it to my husband, who had stayed later than I had and was coming home in a different car. My father-in-law is not allowed to make such weighty decisions on his own, such as what to do with the leftovers that they usually discard, so my mother-in-law demanded that my husband bring the cranberry sauce back as she wanted it.

The next morning when we met them and the other relatives for a day at the zoo, the first words out of my MiL's mouth were, "Where is the cranberry sauce?"

Since it was going to be in the mid-60s and we were going to be gone all day, my husband said he didn't think it was a good idea for the cranberry sauce to be in the car in the heat. Just think. What if he had brought it, the cranberries had turned, and my MiL got sick? Oh, the tempation!

When we were at the zoo and my MiL was sitting alone in the back while the rest of us were watching the penguins being fed, my husband thought he would be nice and go keep her company. He found a seat by her and the only thing she said to him was, "I can't believe you took my cranberry sauce."

That night at dinner, after the cranberry sauce had been returned, she made a toast to the &*(@#&$*)@(# cranberry sauce.

There is much, much more on other unpleasant subjects and I had to leave Thanksgiving dinner to take a walk to get away. Everyone else is nice. Just not her and she spreads her venom and misery like a flood.

She came to our house on Saturday and said to me, "I don't think other women would put up with Paul." I think this was her best attempt at a compliment.

Not everyone is as nice as my mother. And no, I didn't take the cranberry sauce, but I very well may throw it next time.

Turkey Holds Her Ground

I have so much to be thankful for that it seems ungracious to make such a stink about hosting Thanksgiving. Or rather, about NOT hosting Thanksgiving.

For those who have been following the saga with my MiL, I've held my ground. Paul worked until 11:30 Monday night and will be working late again tonight. I still have plumbing fixtures in my den though the toilet is gone. I hauled some lumber outside because  I couldn't stand tripping over it anymore, and besides, I couldn't vacuum and heaven knows I need to vacuum at least twice a year or I'll go crazy.

So, my MiL, bless her heart, sent out an e-mail to everyone that since I couldn't host Thanksgiving she will have it at her SMALL house and even though we will all be CRAMPED and she doesn't know what the children will do in her SMALL house or where she will put everyone and that she doesn't have room for the food in her SMALL refrigerator, we would just make do.

She wrote that she was overwhelmed by it all and really needed my help (this was on an e-mail sent to multiple people in multiple states). I had already told her that I would bring some of the dishes and all of the desserts. So I sent her an e-mail repeating myself and she responded to all people in all states that she felt like the cavalry had arrived.

Then she (in an e-mail to all) asked to borrow my turkey platter since all of her platters are too SMALL. She wanted me to send it to Paul's job site and they would pick up from there. I told her I didn't want to do that because the platter has sentimental and monetary value. So she wrote back to all of us in all states that she didn't want to use that platter because her sink is too SMALL to wash it. I told her that my sink is too small to wash it, too, and that I have to wash each end separately. I think her sink is bigger than mine, but hey! Who's measuring?

Paul offered to bring a fried turkey. My MiL said that she would have to make do with a breast because her refrigerator is too SMALL so he's not to bring it.

She lives in a two-bedroom, two-bath freestanding house in a luxury retirement community. She has a full-sized kitchen only slightly smaller than mine. She has closets galore, some of them EMPTY. My refrigerator is normal sized, not giant. This is all hooey.

Back to the platter. So she rejects my turkey platter and wants me to bring another, smaller platter. I'm not a store or a platter collector. I've got one turkey platter. So I suggest to her that perhaps she should carve the turkey and put it on her two smaller platters. Why does everything have to be so complicated?

Then she writes (to all) for me to be sure to keep all my dishes and desserts small and simple because her refrigerator and house is so SMALL.

And she also writes (to all) that she has no idea how to entertain all these people she's invited for the weekend so she's leaving what we do on Friday completely up to me. Oh no she's not!

I wrote back (to all) that there is nothing worse than having somebody plan your life and your time for you, and I would not be doing that to her guests. I gave her a list of things they could do and told her to let them choose how they wanted to spend their day. I may even be home writing which is what I planned to be doing back before my MiL invited everyone for Thanksgiving. Not that I'm not glad to see them but don't I get to say how I spend my holiday? Apparently not. I probably won't be home writing because that would be rude, plus I'm thinking my house is too SMALL for me to actually be able to write in or do anything so I'd better go sit in the car and possibly drive it somewhere far away.

In the meantime, Saintly Brother has invited me over. I'm thinking of sending the food to MiL's since it's too SMALL for me to fit in there and go to Saintly Brother's. Don't know where or if I'll eat (I've lost my appetite for all this) but I will be visiting at both places. Saintly Brother has some wonderful relatives coming whom I never see so I'm looking forward to stopping by there. I haven't spent a holiday with any of my side of the family in several years.

I do look forward to seeing Paul's brothers and his family. There's just such a high cost.

Am I being SMALL minded?

And I've got so much to be grateful for. I hate that it's so difficult to keep that focus in the middle of these SMALL concerns.

Happy Thanksgiving to you!