Blathering on About Nothing and Everything

Sometimes I actually fool myself into thinking I'm actively doing something when it's more like I'm just getting creative with my procrastination. I'll occupy myself with something that keeps my busy, but it's far from what I intended to do. Almost every time it's avoiding writing. Not writing here, writing that I need to continue in order to finish a book.

Today, given that I have several directions going on in this book, I printed off what I have so far. Not to edit so much as to combine ideas into chapters and mark where I can expand and go further. Trying to flip between the sections on my laptop isn't as effective. I need to have the pages in my hands physically to connect and define each potential chapter. The realization I came to is that I'm only a third of the way finished, and I need to hone in on a tighter presentation.

I may have gotten a little more decisive with my direction, but this need to peruse what I have was still a form of putting off what I really need to do, which is just write. One could say my blog is a distraction. But at least I'm writing, keeping active in self-expression through words. The whole Netflix binge watching has been out of control, and unlike blogging or writing freelance, it does nothing whatsoever for my creative side. I've finished the last series I intend to watch, and my nights are now dedicated to working on my own tale.

In truth, I putz around with whatever I can find to occupy my time when I am at a crossroads in life. Even though I know that my time would be better spent actively pursuing whatever task or goal is at hand, procrastination allows me to think when something doesn't feel right. Of course I get carried away and that's when stepping away from the main road can impact productiveness. I can be my own worst hurdle.

I can also be my own worst critic. As is likely the case with this whole writing thing. Given the subject matter and the kind of message trying to be conveyed, stepping back in the form of reading what has been written is actually beneficial. I can see what I've got, what I still need, and hopefully get a clearer idea of how to make it all connect. Rather than sit here playing self-analyst, I truly ought to be filling in the spaces that are lacking, so that the lines are more easily drawn together.

There's always accountability, too. I've put my shortfalls out there, and now it's not just me who knows I play this game with myself. So with that I intend to dive in for at least an hour tonight. And now, this post written and television off, there are no distractions to pull me in another direction.

All This Anger is Justified

The past few days of social media have been filled with anger and cries for justice for a poor dog that was abandoned outside the doors of the Greater Androscoggin Humane Society. The woman who was caught on surveillance video leaving the poor dog, Abby who died after being hit by a car three days later has been identified. She gave her account via radio interview, but the picture (taken just days before Abby was turned out to fend for herself) and posts that she made on Facebook the night she coldly dumped the dog off in a dark parking lot suggest a different story altogether.

I don't condone judging others, and in fact, I try to redirect thoughts of that nature whenever they rear their heads. This, however, is different. I'm not at the ready with a pitch fork in hand; I have no desire to taunt, intimidate or harass this person. All most of us who have followed the story want is justice for Abby. I'd go a bit further and suggest that any and all animals are removed from this woman's home and that she never be allowed to adopt an animal again.

Of all the reasons she gave for her actions, the most troubling were the claim that this dog was aggressive and bit her 19-month-old son in August of this past year. As a mother, if an animal had bitten my child, I would have surrendered it immediately, not kept it in the family another five months, and I certainly wouldn't have fed my newborn baby while sitting next to an animal I claimed to fear. That photo brought up two thoughts about this woman's character for me: one, she is immature and putting her children in harms way by having kept the dog, or two, she's lying. Either way, it is a long hard road ahead for someone like this.

Seeing photos of a new puppy would normally bring a smile to my face, but instead, I sat shaking my head in disgust. Three children under the age of two and even one dog are more than a handful, but add a puppy and we are talking non-stop chaos. Any parent and pet owner with an ounce of common sense can see that the older dog got the boot because a new, cute and cuddly pup was just more fun. Yes, my snarky Inner Brat did allow the thought 'let's hope that's not how it goes with the kids' to cross my mind.

I do not wish horrible things to befall this woman, despite the fact that her actions on Monday night led to the death of an innocent and likely heartbroken dog. I hope that she gets charged with an offense that fits her crime, and that she learns something from this experience about making the right choices in life, as well as finding a way to be a better person. Good people may make mistakes, but they don't treat another living creature like garbage.

No lack of education or intelligence is excuse enough to throw an animal away simply because they don't accessorize your life the same way babies and puppies do. It was a hateful act of animal cruelty and should be treated as such. But as angry as the public is on this, it is up to the DA to see that the appropriate charges are brought against her. Bullying and vilifying her, even threatening her is not justified. Be angry, by all means be upset for what Abby must have endured, but be bigger than the coward that couldn't be bothered to surrender that dog during business hours, or at the very least drop her next door at the all-night emergency animal hospital. My hope is that the outrage can be used for good, and benefit animals who are in need.

Volunteer your time, donate needed funds or adopt a loving fur friend who just wants a home and someone to love. Contact your local animal shelter and do something proactive. Do it in memory of all the mistreated and abused animals who didn't deserve a life of pain and sadness.

Confidence Rules, Insecurity is for Fools

Self-confidence is the single most appealing thing about a person. No matter how much you value someone, if they lack self-confidence, over time it is tough to continue doling out support, encouragement and reassurances. Slowly the bright, shiny light they were in your life becomes dim, making it hard to see.

When you look at someone you care about, part of their allure is linked to how they carry themselves. If they are always second guessing themselves, or arguing away your positive reinforcements, enjoying their company becomes challenging. No matter how many other good qualities they have, if they need to built up by the people around them frequently, you've got to wonder when they will ever step in and figure it out for themselves.

I know that I have had, and will likely continue to have moments where I'm questioning my ability to do something, but ultimately if I don't see my own worth how can expect those around me to? Without self-confidence I'd never have made the leaps I have in life. I raised two boys through their toughest years on my own, I left relationships that were toxic because I deserve better, I chose to leave behind one profession for something more challenging and it's ignited a deeper dedication to writing, I didn't let doubt about my age deter me from diving into getting fit and I am in the best shape of my life today. The best part of these things is that I did them all by having confidence in myself. The surprising part is that I have more support and encouragement than I could have ever imagined from the people around me.

When a person is sure of themselves and approaches life without allowing doubt to undermine their efforts, it's easy to cheer them on. The positive reinforcement doesn't fall like dead weight into an endless pit of woe-is-me, it bolsters the can-do attitude. It also bounces back on the people who extended the support, making them more energetic and likely to do what they are capable of and more.

Most of us have been hurt, let down and wronged at some point in our lives; some of us more than others. Allowing those who subjected us to these ills to continue to impact us by letting the negative energy take hold is the worst thing we could do. When you fall, you get back up. If it's tough enough to get back on your feet that someone lends you a hand, don't pull them down on the ground with you. Make use of the boost, otherwise they may think twice about helping you the next time.

The only person who can give you confidence is you. Cultivate your inner strength and hold yourself in a way that makes you do a double take in the mirror because there's just so much damned awesome reflecting back at you. You can shine your light on those around you, but the only eyes you can open to see are your own. What another person chooses to do with that guidance, that light is entirely up to them.

Own your shit. Be your brand of awesome. Encourage and support others, but understand that those things alone don't create self-confidence. Each person needs to do the work themselves and believe their own hype - otherwise they stand to miss out on some of the best things they will ever have the opportunity to do, the most amazing people they may ever know and the most incredible life experience they could have had.

I Might Have Missed a Boat or Two, but I'm on Time for Most of Them Now

Do you ever have those moments when you wish you had started something sooner in life? Maybe a hobby, traveling or trying different foods? Though I don't consider the things I wish had done sooner regrets, they do give me pause when I think about them.

It would be difficult to count the things I wish I knew how to do; wish I was young enough to start. I think the things that bother me most, the things that come up again and again, are good habits I could have instilled in my sons had I only lead by better example. I've never been as organized as I'd like to be; there will always be a corner of my kitchen counter that collects an assortment of mail, objects, and random possessions. My work desk will likely stay strewn with paperwork, albeit behind doors.

When I pick up socks on the living room floor, I can't reprimand my son, because nine times out of ten my own are laying somewhere close to his. The funny thing is it is such a habit to remove them that I often don't realize I've done it until I pick them up the next morning. Slippers are essentially the same in this house. Evidently, we are a family of indecisive foot attire wearing. I hope my future daughters-in-law don't resent me when they find they're constantly tripping over these items in the middle of the floor.

I do wish I had introduced a more active lifestyle to both of my children. It's amazing how genetics can dial down the level of importance placed on fitness and mobility. Overall they are both healthy and thin, and as young children they weren't the type to sit inside all day, but because I didn't provide the best example I could have, they are far more sedate than they should be given their ages. Yes, I wish I had done these things and more, but I'm happy to have recognized any of it at all.

They may be more inclined to follow their own path, but there is still hope that any examples I am setting for them now while they still live at home will make an impression. A good, lasting impression. They are still young enough to devote large amounts of energy to something, and I am hopeful the positive approach to life has taken root within them. What an amazing advantage to figure out they can be happy long before their 40s.

As for me, I might have fleeting moments of lamenting the things I never did, but I'm seizing the opportunities that present themselves, and making my own whenever possible. I want my sons to see me enjoying life, but more than that I want to lug around so many memories of all the things I did and accomplished that there just isn't room for all the bullshit baggage anymore.

Sonofabitch, Get Me A Drink- preferably Irish Whiskey

What do you do when the things you love in life, the things you strive for conflict?

Writing, for me, requires certain surroundings, volume of sounds, and a particular amber beverage. Working out also requires certain surroundings, volume of sounds, and a particular beverage. The thing is, these two things are on opposite ends of the spectrum for me.

I love how I feel when I'm eating better, working out regularly and drinking...water. When I'm writing, it's a ritual of sorts - all the things I do to get in the right headspace. Some nights the words just spill out of my fingers onto the keyboard with no effort at all. I wish it were that way more often. The rest of the time I'm battling every other thought that my brain creates, trying to hone in on a specific idea and run with it. That's where the right surroundings, music and whiskey come in. Oh hell, if I'm being honest it's really just the whiskey. It relaxes me just enough to latch onto a topic and make something out of it. All the lighting, music and ambiance in the world cannot replicate the warm glow that leads to churning out 1500 words in an hour.

The problem, at the moment, is that I also like the result I'm starting to see from the effort I'm putting out every morning with weight training. I cut out alcohol (for the most part) and I know it's made a difference, because my 16 yr-old son commented on how even he can see the change just in the past three weeks. What is a girl to do? Seriously. I've tried a variety of tea, blue-light filters and quasi-meditation, my brain needs a damned inhibitor to focus on creativity. I'm not going to lie, it fucking sucks.

Far from it being a crutch, I've spent the past few weeks writing without (well all but one night) my favorite muse beside me. That sounds awful, particularly because I don't have an issue with alcohol. Well, all right, I do, but the problem is that one of my two favorite things in life is better with it, and the other without. Talk about first world problems.

Essentially, everything in my head is either playing an endless game of hide-'n-ain't-no-way-in-hell-you're-finding-me-seek or I get a traffic jam headache impervious to Advil from every single idea trying to beeline onto my computer screen at the same fucking time. The exact definition of ridiculous. Tonight it's the rush-hour skull crusher front and center behind the eyes.

If this is the worst inner conflict I am faced with at the moment, I'll find some way to live with it. Wihtout a doubt, not being able to write or workout at all would be a far worse fate than trying to figure out how to find middle ground between the two. I know what so many writers drink, and the reason those who are serious about fitness rarely do. The challenge currently is figuring out how to be my own focus filter.

I Won the Lottery When I Was Born to My Mom

Tomorrow my mother is a year older. Today I am beyond grateful that she has been there for nearly everything memorable in my life. Forty-four years of ups and downs, triumphs and disappointments; she's always been there. I followed the path of idolizing her to eye rolling everything she offered in life lessons, then to calling her for advice when I became a mother, and finally, now, I look at her as a friend. I don't need her in my life, as much as I want her in it.

We may not always agree on things, but I never question her honesty. Things could have turned out far differently for us - I came along when she was still so young. I've often jokingly said that I was the test child, but if our relationship and my place in the world were the result of a first-time mother muddling through parenthood, I'd say she was always destined to ace that test. And I don't mean to say that I'm awesome, but hey, I am. No clueless woman could have instilled values, common sense, independence, consideration, compassion, love, and loyalty so effectively if she wasn't a natural.

Not only did she manage to succeed in raising me, but she also instilled, all the same, qualities in my sisters. There was always a healthy balance of fun and discipline in our house though being four females definitely presented challenges. I always knew that my mother was young, but I never felt like she was growing up at the same time as me. There was no doubt of her ability and dedication to raising us, and doing her best at it.

My sisters and I are grown and have our own families, and it is more apparent now just how natural my mother is at being a nurturing soul. Each of her nine grandchildren brought out more of who she is each time they entered the world, showing me a side to her I might never have recognized otherwise. My sons, nephews and niece (who gave us a unique way of saying I love you by stating her age at the end of the statement) are all so fortunate to have a grandmother who is all my mother has come to be, but with all the indulgences she resisted as a parent. That, and she's far more hip than either of my grandmothers ever were, dear as they were and are to me.

Of all the things my mother gave me, the ability to recognize and celebrate those who are important to me is by far the greatest. I can't imagine what life would be like had she been a different person, had she not raised me they way she did. I am happy I never have to wonder.

Mom, thank you. I love you more than 44.

Some Numbers Are Better Than Others

As I've touched on in previous posts, I work out regularly. I'm on a relatively strict, ultra-low carb meal plan (I loathe the word diet, and it's nasty connotations), and I'm gluten free. At no point have I indicated that my goal is to lose weight. In fact, I make reference to loving 'gains' frequently. Why then, is it the immediate assumption of others when they learn more about my eating habits and weight training that my end goal is to drop pounds? 

To that point, why are all the food tracking apps created with 'hey, you'd weigh XXX.XX at the end of X weeks, if this represents every meal'? I know that I am far from the only fitness minded individual who ignores the scale. Yes, it is true I am not overweight, nor did I start this journey of health needing to drop pounds. Honestly, it wouldn't matter if I was carrying around extra body fat; the scale is the last tool that should be utilized when trying to get fit. I'll touch on what 'fit' means later.

The first and most reliable tool for gauging body progress of any kind is a tape measure. That is it. If your goal is to lose mass and sculpt a leaner, meaner you, the scale isn't going to tell you the whole truth. It can, and often will, actually lie to you. Inches are the truest indicator of progress. Whether they are inches lost or like in my case inches gained, it is common for that number on the scale to barely budge - even when your tape measure is telling you your hard work and healthy eating are paying off! Most of us wouldn't continue seeking out a friend who lied to us, gave only partial advice or support, so why are we relying so much on a tool that doesn't tell us much?

Weight is such a huge topic. Especially in the female population. With so much focus on efforts to lose weight, it rarely seems to occur to people that there could be another goal for someone who is adding exercise and cleaning up their eating habits. Not everyone needs or wants to lose weight, and I think it's time we look at how we perceive getting fit and healthy. It's narrow-minded to assume there is only one possible goal for working out, and while it seems there are people who still think telling someone they are 'skinny,' 'tiny' or 'small' is a compliment, I assure you they are not received as such by women like me. Hearing those descriptors sucks, because it undermines my perception of the progress I thought I was making. 

I know enough about being confident and having a 'duck's back' when it comes to that kind of thing. But everyone wants to hear something positive about their appearance when they've put in the effort to change it. Women who have lost weight beam when someone recognizes it and tells them so. It is no different for women who want to gain mass. I never liked my thin, shapeless arms, so when I've worked hard and added an inch and a half to each, giving them shape, the last thing I want to hear is how 'skinny' or 'little' someone thinks I am. It isn't remotely a compliment. 

My friend Kelly and I have a ritual of sending each other progress pictures. Both she and I are short and started out on our weight lifting paths being small; she was smaller than I was and therefore, even more, sensitive to comments about her physique. Rightfully so. We give each other honest feedback, because, let's face it; it can be difficult to see changes when you see yourself every day - no matter what the tape measure tells you. Neither of us will likely ever be seen as 'huge', but without a doubt, we are bigger and more cut (sculpted) than ever before. Kel is my weight lifting inspiration, and now she's got the body to go with that badass 'come at me' attitude she used to have back in the day.

What does it mean to be fit? If you Google the definition like I just did, you'll see the meaning is far more broad than what is commonly used to describe being fit. 

fit /adjective/ - in good health, especially because of regular physical exercise.

Somehow over time, the quest for fitness came to mean only achieving a specific number on that bastard scale, again, particularly with females. And that number was rarely the suggested weight for a person's height. We are so hung up on numbers, that we've lost sight of what should be the primary focus: working toward building a strong, healthy body. Each of us is built differently, there should be no generalizations applied to all when it comes to what fit looks like. Progress and success are customized to the individual and their specific goals. 

I want the curves and definition of muscle, thicker thighs with no gap and an ample ass. The only way to achieve those goals is to lift weights. Heavy weights. This also means I will gain weight, and I am more than okay with that. I finally got over the illusion of that 'perfect number', because it will never get me the results I'm striving for. I don't need the scale to tell me what I can see and feel.

Whether your goals are to build muscle or to lean out, to lose body fat or to gain mass, the first step is to retrain your brain. Having the right mindset about the true nature of being fit, allows you to set attainable goals that make up real progress. Progress specific to you. 

Once more of us change the way we define fitness and eating plans, and the reasons people seek to incorporate both into their lives, maybe we will start seeing others as individuals instead of comparing them to some ridiculous example of what is ideal. 

If you want to change your life, change it for the right reasons, using the right tools with the right mindset. You will go farther, stay motivated longer, and be more open to peace and happiness in your life. Being fit and eating healthy are the visible and actionable ways we value the core of who we are, and we should show others respect for doing the same - but doing it in the way that is right for them. Build the body you want that best compliments the person you are - be the whole you you've always wanted to be. Don't be limited by outdated definitions and narrow-minded views- or some number on a scale. 

There's Always Next Season

A person has to be a bit masochistic to be a fan of sports. The yo-yo effect of wins and losses, the intense frustration when players mess up and cost our favorite team a win; yet we continue to watch, week after week, season after season. Dedication runs deep, and there is a love-hate cycle that ensues almost the moment we're hooked.

I'm a devout fan of the Patriots. Since the mid-80s I have subjected myself to more bad seasons than good, yet those successful seasons have spoiled me greatly. It isn't that I've forgotten what losing seasons are like; emotional rollercoasters of near misses, heartbroken moments and heartburn. Awful season after awful season, I lamented the lack of drive and talent along with every other Patriot fan. And then it happened. Brady took the field for the first time after Drew Bledsoe's season ending injury in the 2nd game of the 2001 season. That game was lost, but the season ended with a trip to the Super Bowl and a subsequent win. Since that season Patriot Nation has gotten quite comfortable with top notch seasons, not to mention several trips to the big game.

On days like today, we get a painful reminder of the disappointment once suffered year after year. We are passionate about the wins, critical of the losses and all the fuck-ups we witnessed from our arm chairs and sofas, and we love it all. When we lose a game that keeps us from that pinnacle of the entire season, particularly when the season leading up to it was incredible it is heartbreaking. Even more so when we seem to be unable to break free of the trend for losing in Denver.

Despite the agony of defeat, we will return to those arm chairs, sofas and barstools, donning our team jerseys, practicing our guaranteed, foolproof rituals and yell and cheer at the TV screen again come August. I'll be counting the days until preseason begins. It's marginally easier to swallow losing when it was by two points and not the 34 point defecit the Arizona Cardinals suffered to the Carolina Panthers. Until next season, the jersey is put away, but I'll still be sporting every other piece of Patriots clothing I own between now and then. New England pride...even when our guys disappoint us, we never really give up.

And, for now, I've got the X-Files.

So Many Songs, How Can I Be This Old?

Do I apologize for the flailing arms or my jarring elbows? I'm really not sure, especially since that drink that was not mine was just spilled down my front side with absolutely no interference from said arms. But hey, we were all just getting crazy listening to an 80s cover band, so ... I guess it all comes out in the wash.

I think I totally did the whole Snapchat thing wrong tonight because it was all video. Hey, I indulged in some adult bevvies and I'm feeling no pain - sue me. My child sucks because he just told me I am like my mother. Gah! I need another Jameson. The kid is watching John Mulaney and it's totally distracting me from writing.

This post may well be incomprehensible and I make NO apologies. Read at your own risk.

What the hell is it with guys? I'm on the dance floor (a feat in itself) and because I'm getting into the music and quasi-dancing that's an invitation to try and dance up on me? No. Just no. Back your junk up and think twice, because girl is having fun and not doing a mating ritual. WTF?

I have not been out to see a local band in longer than I care to admit. Considering that I support local talent. In any case, I had resisted seeing this particular band for YEARS, because I don't like 'cover' bands...BUT they were amazing! From the moment that I walked up beside the window and heard "Warrior" I knew I was not going to stand a chance of standing still. Outside, in the cold, waiting to get in, I was bouncing up and down singing...music from my LIFE - how could I possibly sit still?

I feel like Joan Rivers ... Can we talk?

No, really. I had no idea that parenting and being single were at such conflicting positions. Take an Uber or make my kid transport me? Uh, I choose kid...hey, designated driving can never be taught too early. That said, it is always in my intention to teach and not horrify. Whether I'm staying within that vein is subject to the child's perception. Of course, just knowing he has dropped me off to have a drink or two severely taints his expectations upon retrieving me. Result? He immediately assumes I am inebriated.

Teenagers.

Aside from the assumptions of a 16 yr-old, the night was full of songs from my earlier years...most of which I knew the words to. Of course, Corey Hart's 'Sunglasses at Night' had me Googling the lyrics, because the beginning line of the chorus has always escaped me. Now I KNOW. "Don't switch the blade on the guy in shades, oh no. Don't mascarade with the guy in shades, oh no." Who the fuck knew? NOT me. Thirty-two years and I finally know what the fuck Corey is saying. Why have I never used the internet to this end before?

This particular cover band is most certainly worth seeing again. And again.

Life is worth experiencing, so whether it is seeing an 80s cover band called The Awesome, or just hanging out with amazing people...do it.

Shine

Some time ago I subscribed to a daily quote via email. Not just any quotes, positive words, often with a hint of tenacity. I start my day, every day with this email. Somedays the message is forgotten shortly after reading, but most days the message resonates. Today's quote definitely had staying power.

"Throw soft light on the doom clingers."

So many thoughts went through my head as I read this. We have the choice to be led by our noses, or to be the good influence for others. We can choose to let someone antagonize us, goading us into a reaction we will regret, or we can let the words or actions of another person be what they are - maintaining our dignity and peace of mind. There are always choices, even when they are difficult to see.

If you're living a more uplifted, proactive and meaningful life, it isn't enough to just make the changes. At some point you need to share your experience, particularly with those who are in most need of hearing it. I maintain that toxic people should be kept at a distance, but that doesn't mean you can't be an example to them. You don't have to let someone else's gray cloud shadow your life.

I figure my light is shining, so why shouldn't it brighten someone else's surroundings - even if they didn't ask for it. Those who live in negativity often forget that a happier state of being exists. It's really up to the rest of us to remind them - gently.

Balancing Act

How do you deal with uncertainty? Do you let it eat at you day and night? Sweep it under the mental rug? Maybe those are the wrong questions. I think what's more important is are you happy with how you deal with uncertain circumstances and situations?

I'm the kind of person who can fixate on things. Of course, most people would likely say the same. There was a period of time (like all of my childhood right up until I got divorced at 36) when anything that was out of my control would have me wound up tighter than a coil, seconds away from being sprung. I'd run over possible solutions or outcomes incessantly, trapped inside my head with nothing but nervous, negative energy. Yeah, it was pretty damned miserable.

Things pop up every day, at any time, over and over again. After awhile you'd think those of us who obsess would realize we are defining crazy by continuing to let stress and the unknown get the better of ourselves. I think it was somewhere around 37 years for me to finally figure out that giving all the things that were questions without immediate answers, or problems without easy solutions, the best of my focus and energy was the fastest way to barricade myself from any kind of enjoyment in life. Shit happens, and there are going to be many times the answers evade us. Playing a never-ending game of hide-n-seek (that feels much more like search and prepare to destroy) rarely makes the kind of difference in situations that we somehow think it will.

Control is overrated. A false sense of control is even less appealing. Having a one-track mind means you're only partially present for everything else. That great vacation with the family, exploring, relaxing and making memories - yeah, you miss out on the full effect of it all when you can't set something aside and free up that much-appreciated example of love and respect called 'full attention'. The problems will likely still be there at the end of the week, but the opportunity to experience life during those seven days won't be, and there are no second chances.

What I find somewhat amusing is that when trying to alter habits that aren't good for us, we aren't obsessive or fixated on the new path, we are often still stealing regular glances at the road we stepped off of. How exactly is a person suppose to leave the habits, things, thoughts, and energy they don't want to hold onto anymore behind if they keep it all well within view? 

Solutions, change, better opportunities - these things will remain out of reach and unattainable as long as we refuse to let go of the unknowns and other things that grab our attention completely. I know that for me, nearly none of the things I fixated on were things I could let go of slowly, bit by bit and expect to see real results. Financial stresses, relationship issues, whatever the problem I was facing, and will continue to face, the only way resolution happens is by putting both feet on the path that feels right and walking, face straight ahead. Life works out the way it does, and while it is essential to be aware and actively taking responsibility for where we are at and how we get to wherever we are going, we need to make sure we aren't stuck in a loop of going over mental checklists and delaying actual trip. 

It is necessary to be mindful of an issue, but a tragic error to let the issue become the overall theme of the mind.

Too Much of a Good Thing Can Be Hard to Swallow

I typically love carb nights. It's all I can do to choke down enough carbs before turning in tonight. Why is it that when I can have naughty carbs, I don't have the appetite I do when I need to abstain from consuming so much yummy.

Some nights I just can't do it. There are a few times when it becomes clear that no matter how much you know you should, you can't, and when you know you shouldn't, you just can't help yourself. Goals would be so much more attainable if we weren't so easily tempted to sabotage our progress. Right?

I suppose that falling short on total carb count is better than giving up during a workout. I came close to my target on this macro this evening, and hopefully between my choices and the timing, the effect will be as it should. What's most important is I stuck to the 10 day ULC induction, after weeks of overindulging on all foods I typically avoid, or at the very least eat in moderation. Sometimes even the small successes are enough.

I stumbled across Carb Night Solution a few years ago, and recently explored the sister eating plan for weight lifting, Carb Backloading. While the science behind the diets make sense, implementing them is time consuming, and using them together can be tricky - particularly if you're a woman. I reached out to a dietician who is associated with each of these plans and given my goals and expectations, she helped me incorporate a customized version. I usually prefer to do the work myself, but yo-yoing through a specific plan on my own seemed arduous and wrought with potential missteps.

It's no surprise that some people find the way I eat a little odd. And they aren't wrong that it requires a bit more work than most specialized diets. The thing is I feel my absolute best when I avoid simple carbs, not to mention when I minimize the times I eat a substantial amount in a given day. I see more changes from the work I do on the mat, and I find I have more consistent energy to push harder every week.

Tonight was carb night, and I didn't hit the mark that is optimal, but I came close. There's always another opportunity to try harder, and unlike busting out that last rep when your muscles are on fire and about to give in, lifting my hand to my mouth with something oh-so-high in carbs is a bit easier to do. Back to carb deprivation in the morning, and right now I couldn't be happier!

I Need to Wash My Car

Oh, this cold snap is on my last nerve. My car is full of salt, but washing it would mean frozen doors. The kitchen floor is gritty with sand. Winter just loves to mock my longing for summer.

The blistering heat of beach sand beneath my feet. Penetrating warmth of the sun and the lightest of ocean breezes. These are the thoughts I keep close by, so that on days when the mercury barely reaches 20 degrees, I can bear the bitterness and the bite.

Ok, so it doesn't always work, but most of the time it breaks the monotony of winter loathing long enough to regain a more positive outlook. Hey, I go with what I can find, and sometimes that's just a redirection of thought.

I am quite happy that this has been a far less severe season than that of the past two years. A moderate amount of snow means it will melt sooner. Fewer single digit days means reasonable heating bills. Not only is my inner-self bolstered by these things, so is my wallet.

Ooo, and the money I don't spend on heat, car washes and gas from letting my car run every day to warm up I can spend on more knee socks and sweaters! Of course, being able to associate this time of year with the best part of football doesn't hurt either. Yeah, I suppose I don't actually hate all things about winter. There are some redeeming qualities after all. 

Time is a Thief

It's difficult to watch people age. Especially when they are your grandparents. The simple knowledge that we all grow old isn't enough to quell the feelings of sadness and loss.

When such important roots of your family tree become less and less like the incredible characters you fell in love with as a child, the urge to avoid watching their decline can be tempting to follow. If you don't see it often, it isn't something that you think about. The downside to that is that you might be preserving the memories of them in their prime, but you are missing out on the moments that they might need you to be there the most.

No matter how painful it may be to witness my grandfather's spark slowly fade, I will continue to visit and listen to the same story over and over. The look on his face never changes whether it's the first time he's told me a particular story, or the fifth. When you love someone, you accept who they are. Even when who they are starts to change.

The part that's most difficult is listening to their other half verbalize the differences. My grandmother has to watch her mate of 67 years become more unrecognizable,  forgetting simple things, no longer being able to do the tasks he used to do - slowly becoming a stranger in their marriage.  It's much worse because she is aware of the steady disappearing act of the once funny, loving man her husband has always been. She also knows she can't do anything except watch. That leaves those who love them feeling utterly helpless.

I cannot imagine spending so many years of my life with another person only to have them taken away bit by bit as we near the finish together. The fear, anxiety, and isolation this must create are unimaginable to me. How can you be of any comfort to someone who is living hardship of dementia if you can't get past the disbelief of it yourself?

Odd as it may seem, for me, remembering everything I can about my grandparents before they were handed this life trial helps me anchor myself to the love they brought to my life. Feeling that abundance of emotion could reduce me to tears if I started to focus on the blurring of my grandfather's personality and all he's been. Instead, I choose to believe that just being able to recall so many memories that still carry so much love, means that my grandparents are still the important roots they always have been. It doesn't matter how that love still fills the space between or around them, just that they still do.

Giving back to these wonderful people by sitting, listening, and laughing as often as I can, buoyed by all the love I have because of them, doesn't take much consideration. I may not be able to slow the effects of time, or prevent the inevitable, but along with the rest of my family, I can make sure they don't go through it alone.

I Tripped, Again

I had an ugly, inner moment earlier today. I don't enjoy when negative thoughts and emotions by for my attention and win. The feelings of falling short of my ongoing intention to be a positive, uplifting soul instantly show up, followed swiftly by a self-directing mantra that prevents either thought process to take root and undo the progress I have made on this introspection trek.

 Like it or not, being human means stumbling over ourselves from time to time. I know I can be an asshole, both toward a person and in overall presence when I'm in a foul mood. Regrettably, people I care about bear the brunt of those times when I'm feeling a bit rotten. Luckily, they understand that everyone has a bad day, and deserves a little leeway.

Though my preference would be not to let these less than flattering feelings surface at all, I am better off for being able to distinguish them for what they are. This morning's moment was a flash of jealousy, in retrospect I have no doubts it was simply irritation and anger with myself for not having gotten farther with a goal that I had set. It had nothing to do with the other person, and in truth, I recognized that instantly.

Most of us are hardest on ourselves, but how many of us can claim that we turned that inner disappointment and languishing energy into achieving what we set out to do? For two seconds I could see where someone else was likely to succeed at a similar goal, and how incredible it will be given what preceded it, and I scoffed at them in my head. I inhaled deep and called bullshit, forcing me to stop and be honest about what I was thinking.

I don't make it a habit to begrudge others what they have, what they earn, and what their energy attracts. Sadly, I once did. It took some painful sessions of internal examination to lift myself out of that pit, and I have no intentions of going back. Clearly, that doesn't mean I won't still have mini-relapses that all serve to remind me of how far I've come. And what I still have yet to do.

I figure, these lapses in clear thinking keep me honest with the most important person in my life - me.

Astounding Talent

Sitting in my seat, eyes forward to the stage, I am once again blown away by the display of talent before me. Whenever I see a show of this magnitude, one thought rises above the noise of all others: I cannot fathom the sheer discipline necessary to learn one instrument, letalone several.

A few years ago a friend of mine introduced me to Joe Bonamassa via Youtube. I was instantly entranced - this guy didn't just play the blues, he clearly lived, breathed and ate the music. I knew if he ever came close enough to little old Maine, I had to see him live.

Last summer, another friend and I made a two and a half hour drive north to see Joe on the Three Kings tour. I was not disappointed. The caliber of musicians that accompanied him on stage to play select songs from BB, Freddie and Albert Kings' illustrious careers was impressive. This was the very definition of a class act. I didn't expect to go to another show and have quite the same experience, regardless of how much I liked the band I was seeing.

Two months after that show, tickets went on sale for yet another Bonamassa show months in advance; this time an acoustic ensemble. I didn't even blink at the price of the tickets; I had no doubts it would be worth every cent. I had no idea it would exceed my expectations, but it did.

I am still replaying clips of the night in my head this morning (as well as a few short videos I took on my phone). Having never been to a concert at this venue, I was first awed by our seats - the view was perfect. Once the music started, I was relieved that the acoustics of the room were near perfect. There is nothing worse than having a show sound distorted or tinny because of bad acoustics (particularly when you paid a decent amount to see and hear it). The band took the stage and permagrin set in.

The collective talent on stage was awe-inspiring:

Cellist Tina Guo, from Beijing is a force to be reckeoned with. She is the epitome of discliplined artist who truly becomes part of whatever instrument she plays (which, by the way were the cello and erhu). Check her out here.

Pianist Reese Wynans, from the U.S. and a Music Hall of Fame inductee has a crazy career spanning from the late 60s and playing with the likes of Stevie Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble, Hank Williams Jr, Kenny Wayne Shepherd, and even the Kate Moss Band (which I didn't even know existed until researching Wynans) to name a few.

Multi-instrumentalist Eric Bazillian, who is a founding member of the Hooters and wrote 'One of Us' for Joan Osborne (another of my faves), played more instruments last night than I could possible recall including the sax, guitar and mandolin. Dude was incredible!

Percussionist Hossam Ramzy, from Eqypt, has recorded with Jimmy Page and Robert Plant, worked with Peter Gabriel (swoon), and his work was sampled by Jay-Z. I had no idea how familiar I was with his music until last night. Entranced for sure!

Drummer Anton Fig from Late Night with David Letterman fame was spot on! He's played with a near endless list of musicians, most recently Oz Noy and Will Lee, as well as Ace Frehley.

Vocalists from Austrailia: Mahalia Barnes, who recorded "The Betty Davis Songbook w/Bonamassa, and was a contestant on The Voice Austrailia - powerhouse! Juanita Tippins, and Gary Pinto.

Clearly, this is a show I won't soon forget!

It's Not Masochistic, It's Absolutely Exquisite

I've come to realize that not all pain is bad. The most important thing is being able to differentiate between bad pain and the pain that comes from growth. It might start out with something negative, but more often than not it is a sign that we are evolving as a person.

That idea applies to both emotional and physical pain. When we are focused on attaining a life that has more positive moments than any other kind, the pain we once may have lamented endlessly about becomes a catalyst for something better. But tonight I'm fixated on physical pain, as in delayed onset muscle soreness; better known to fitness buffs as DOMS.

I must have caught myself groaning each time I got up out of my chair, or hefted myself to standing from the driver's seat of my car, at least, a dozen times today. Which means that I have likely been non-stop muttering about how sore my back and legs are. I have to laugh a little every time I hear the exasperation exhaled from my lungs. I love experiencing DOMS, despite any griping to the contrary. The pain and soreness, not of the I-injured-myself variety, is a reminder that I pushed my body hard. I succeeded at challenging myself and my limits. Mini-goal wins!

At 44, working out has become an activity that I never want to miss. I wouldn't say I'm obsessive, but when 'rest day' rolls around you can bet your ass it's an active one. I feel like I'm cheating if I don't do something on rest day. It's crazy when I think back to how difficult it was to get to the gym even three days a week a few years ago.

Sure, working out from home makes a big difference. Not just in commitment to routine, but also in my level of determination to push myself to failure. In a gym, I was too pre-occupied with whether or not I looked ridiculous to struggle for that last rep, gritting my teeth. Now when I work out with someone around, I'm only thinking about what I'm working towards.

Today I pushed through yesterday's soreness, even challenging myself by upping my weights. Since my foot surgery eleven weeks ago, I've been easing into certain things. Today, my biggest accomplishment was full on burpees with dumbbell rows. I hate burpees; I always want to yack after a set of them. I believe being able to finally jump my feet back and forth gave me a slightly new appreciation for a) how intense this exercise is, and b) for how amazing my surgeon is at what he does.

Yes, the dull, aching pain radiating through my lats right now is something I love. Next to the near fire I've felt in my quads and hamstrings, this is my second favorite area to work to failure. Tomorrow morning's workout is going to be epic, and I'm looking forward to breaking down and building up muscles I didn't even realize I had.

Pure Energy

I don't believe in a god. That doesn't mean that I cannot appreciate others' dedication to religion. I fully admire and am often moved by the beautiful way religion, and its followers can relay a story, idea or philosophy. I don't need to belong to a denomination of faith to understand the devotion and trust of those who believe in a higher power. After all, there are many reasons to put your faith in something.

It's true that I find my Catholic upbringing wrought with fallacies; strategically crafted tales that are often laced with instruction to fear God. I don't feel the need to debate the existence of a supreme, all-knowing being. If this is what gets a person through their day to day, and through their last moments here on earth, who am I to say they are wrong? My belief is that we are all energy, and when we leave our bodies, that energy joins all that surrounds us. I am okay with believing there is no afterlife; actually, I find it calming. What I find disturbing is that when I divulge my agnosticism, a fair amount of the time I get the eye-roll type attitude.

I have no desire to tell another person how to live. I mean, if they ask for advice then I've got permission, but even then I wouldn't attempt to dissuade someone from beliefs that are woven into the foundation of their existence. I've known for some years that my choice in an agnostic life would offend others. It just saddens me that more people cannot abide by 'live, and let live' when it comes to this particular topic.

Both of my sons are of the same mind as I am. I never discounted the information they got at their friends' homes.  They've experienced church and a few different belief systems through the people they've spent time with, and I supported this because I wanted each of them to make their own choice. We talked about it when they had questions, but I never pushed my beliefs on them, just as I never downed anyone whose ideas were different from my own.

I remember a conversation with my oldest son where he asked me if I believed in God. My relationship with my children has always been one of open honesty. My answer to him could never have been anything less than the truth, so I explained that I don't believe there is a God, but that it is what I chose to believe. I wanted him to know that he didn't simply have to follow my lead, particularly if it didn't suit him. Each of my boys had a moderate amount of experience with the beliefs of those who subscribe to one religion or another, and ultimately they each chose to walk a path that made the best sense for them. As it happens, agnosticism won out. At the end of the day, their lives and how they relate to the world around them made more sense, than believing something other than what their predominantly Catholic families do.

While it may seem like a reason to be at odds with one another, belief or non-belief in a deity does not dictate the genuine goodness of a soul. Religion does not make a person better than someone without a similar belief; it does not corner the market on kindness and goodwill. A person's belief they will go to heaven if they do what is outlined in a book written thousands of years ago, does not make them any more deserving of respect, love or a happy life. Atheists and agnostics do amazingly humane and positive things each and every day. A lack of belief in an organized religion has nothing to do with the quality of a person.

I can accept that you believe in a god and that you attribute all life's sufferings and successes to His plan. Can you accept that I do not share your beliefs and that I attribute my hardships and happiness to the energy I create and share?

Do what is right for you, but don't fool yourself into thinking what's right for you is the better way, the only true answer, or the best way for everyone to live. In the end, none of us will know what lies beyond until we pass from this life, so concentrate on living a rich and whole life while you still have one.

I Can't Wait. No Really, I Can't.

I don't know exactly when it will happen, but all that matters is it will! I'm like a kid at Christmas, all wide-eyed, excited anticipation. In a thousand lifetimes I don't think I would have ever believed I would be so diehard for a local band. But here I am, giddy as shit that my faves are taking the stage again. It's been way too long, Sidecar. Way too long.

As a creative person, I gravitate toward people, place and things that ignite a bigger flame within me. It's no surprise, despite that fact that I cannot play an instrument to save my life, that music is my number one go-to for inner balance and that near-chaos I crave. Two extremes that I live by, almost simlutaneously.

No matter what my mood happens to be, there is music to suit it. I may favor the loud, heavy sound of metal, but I'm just as easily apt to listen to jazz. There are days I stream Peter Gabriel, some that it's Iron Maiden, and still others when I can't seem to settle on an artist or a genre. I'm a geek for music, though I can live happily without country and rap. Like ever.

When I'm having a day where nothing seems to be going the way I'd like, I am most likely to crank Stone Sour, Chevelle or Killswitch Engage. The heavy charge somehow sets me on a path where I can focus on what I want, instead of all the things I don't. My teenage years were a mix of pretty boy rock bands, rip your throat out metal. I honestly believe my parents may have been slightly concerned the day I started playing Slayer in my room. Far from depressed or angry, my mental clarity was and is crystal clear - getting better from the energy these bands, this music generates.

Great days are perfect for fun music like Silversun Pickups, Jimmy Eat World, or the timeless sounds of Louis Armstrong, Nina Simone and yes, I'm even guilty of a little Bon Jovi. If it makes me smile from the inside out, I don't care what someone else may think. Grabbing happy the instant you feel it, recognizing where it comes from, and parading it around like it's your birthday is exactly the way we should all celebrate life.

My first memory of having a favorite song was somewhere around the age of three. My mother was a fan of music, so I grew up listening to bands that became the basis of my auditory addiction. Changes by David Bowie was the first song I recall being able to sing the lyrics to as a child. Followed a few years later by Charlie Daniels' Devil Went Down to Georgia. I gained a crazy appreciation for the Beatles, quickly preferring their later, embattled sound. No matter how many styles of music, number of bands, I am drawn to, and get the most out of darker music.

There is something so irresistable to me in the work of Bowie. While on the flip side Freddy Mercury and Queen struck different emotions, yet produced the same wonder and appreciation for the art. Their art. It never matters how much time has passed since I've listened to their music, it's like coming home again each and every time.

Maybe that's what it is for me, with music. It's as though I am more in touch with everything that makes me who I am. I want more, do more, feel more and there never feels like there is a limit. If there was one thing, one 'creature comfort' I couldn't live without, it would most certainly be music. Take away every other form of entertainment, as long as there is music, I won't really miss the rest.

With a gift like music that lives on far past those who created it, it's possible to travel back in time, remember faces and places time made you forget. For a moment, when I hear a song from long ago, I come face to face with just how old I am, but the effects of whatever I'm listening to come with a rush of youth and all at once age means absolutely nothing.

Whenever the date is set, I'll be ready. Completely prepared to let the pure, electric waves of everything right in the world take over and push all the bullshit aside for the night. Bring on the boom, ignite my soul.

I'm Not Contrary, I'm Just into Solitary Space

Overall, I'm relatively resistant to band-wagoning. If for no other reason sometimes than just to remind myself that I'm most comfortable with my own thoughts and actions. Joining others for a specific cause is altogether different. Jumping because other people are, with no good reason, just isn't for me.

I may be considered an extrovert, and admittedly I'm quite outgoing, but I thoroughly enjoy being by myself. I don't think I ever realized how much I liked my space from others until I started working from home. A few people remarked that I would be going stir crazy inside a month when I made the switch from a bustling salon to a make-shift home office. Somehow I knew those assessments wouldn't hold true. I just had no idea that hours of being alone, five days a week would actually be something I loved.

In the course of the past year and a half, I have experienced a kind of dread over the thought of ever working anywhere that takes me beyond my front door. The possibility is always there; almost no job is secure. When there is uncertainty, my stress is mostly rooted in the daily grind I never dreamt of being a part of. Though I never felt like that in all my years of being behind the chair, I've never just worked one job either. There were plenty of retail and office positions that filled the financial gaps that hair often couldn't - all of which I loathed. That kind of negative energy can sap the happy, lightheartedness right out of a person.

For sure this does have a ring of entitlement to it, but it isn't as though I feel I'm above working in a cubicle behind a desk. I sit on my behind all day, working behind a desk...I just get to do it without makeup, getting dressed, or dealing with inter-office drama. I've never been able to conform to typical work routines, and I'm certain that my creative mind (read: non-stop imagination and thought churning brain) is the reason. Now this isn't to say I'm incapable of working under such circumstances; I absolutely can, and I have. I'm just a more relaxed, more positive version of me when life is predominantly on my terms.

Another aspect of this overall love for solitude is that I essentially work for myself. I've been my own boss for a few years now, and any thoughts about being an employee - no matter how amazing the company may be, just fuels the fire of resistance. I would much prefer to juggle several clients/accounts on my own to earn a living. Benefits be damned.

While being a part of the not-from-home workforce isn't exactly bandwagoning, the basic idea of doing what a majority of the world does is there. It's similar enough to make the leap. I've always been a bit of a square peg, and though I can hang around with the round ones just fine, there is little hope I will ever fit the same purpose in the exact same way. I'm okay with struggling until I figure out what works best, and I find I learn a whole lot more when I have to walk alone.

Being more at ease, smiling for almost no reason at all and looking forward to doing it day after day is worth every ounce of energy it takes to work well independently. Without a doubt I will continue this path I'm on for as long as I can, appreciating every good thing that comes about because of it.

We don't need to be in agreement with our neighbors, to make our own choices

It's a tight line to walk, this exploitation-of-women and freedom-of-choice topic. Arguments can be made either way, but at the end of the day it comes down to legality, and what is right for you personally. This article in the Portland Press Herald today, called attention to the rumblings of discontent from the more easily bruised members of the community. Ok, maybe that isn't how the story is written, but that's what I got out of it.

I believe that political correctness has gone too far, at least, when it comes to the sheer number of topics that are now essentially taboo. In so much as even the slightest mention of any one of a thousand subjects is likely to send at least one person into a highly defensive stance. Certainly, there are some sensitve issues that are best handled with more tact than sarcasm. The problem is we don't seem to know where to draw the line. Why is okay to joke about one thing but not about another? I'd say the best answer is that it isn't that one is less important, or sensitive than another, just that we all have a different view and degree of tolerance for dark humor and sarcasm depending on the subject matter.

I'd stop quite short of calling myself a feminist. I believe in equal rights between the sexes - actually, for anyone regardless of sex, race, religion, sexual orientation or sexual preference. Far too many people have forgotten their sensibilities it seems. Common sense has flown out the window, and we neglect to realize that if we don't like what we are seeing or hearing, our first line of defense should be to simply walk or turn away.

Social media is a perfect example. There are far too many sitting behind their keyboards, staring into their screens becoming more and more incensed or insulted based on something someone else posted. Unless it's explicitly something that goes against the laws on illegal or indecent types of posts, each and every one of us has a scroll feature at our IMMEDIATE disposal. For crying out loud, use it! If you become so upset by the things that someone else comments or shares, you also have the option to unfollow them. To that end, there are also things like unfriending and even blocking someone.

Why allow another person, or something like the attire of the staff in a THEMED restaurant offend you? It is NOT a personal attack on our sense of morality - if it offends us, it is simply because we do not agree. We've mistaken this political correct climate we live in for somehow elevating us to such incredible levels of self-importance that we can no longer be satisfied by simply muttering our disapprovals to ourselves and going about our business, leaving the rest of the world to do as they choose.

As far as the latest chain restaurant opening its doors for business, I say 'yay' for more dining options! Maybe it's sexist to have women parade around in revealing outfits that make the server role seem almost 'subserviant', but strip clubs and strip shows exploit sexual fantasy in much the same way. Maybe though, it isn't exploitation as much as it is expression. Expression of a theme, an idea for entertainment and enjoyment. If you don't enjoy it, don't participate, but don't spoil the fun for the rest of us.

People can and will come up with a host of reasons they believe a restaurant that uses a little visually suggestive titalation shouldn't be allowed to operate. Their employees are well aware of the nature of their job, as well as the attire that accompanies the position they have accepted. People who choose to patronize such establishments do so understanding it is the theme/entire premise intended by the founders/owners. The rest of the general public just needs to accept that they cannot impose their ideals on everyone simply because they may not agree with the business model.

I see the Tilted Kilt being a fun change from some of the other popular chain eateries, and can't wait to experience it. I prefer to live on the lighter side, not letting myself be so affected. After all, I am intelligent enough to know that sex sells, and it doesn't correlate into increased crime or deviant behavior. Those are issues that have far more deep-seeded roots. So, eat, drink and be merry, if you choose to do so in South Portland at The Tilted Kilt, fabulous. If that's not your thing, there are more than enough other dining options between South Portland and Portland, something should fit into your oh-so-proper lifestyle.

Far Less Loss of Words

I was never the kind of writer that faithfully carried paper and pen with me at all times. The sheer number of ideas and potential stories that disappeared into my consciousness moments after they occurred and weren't jotted down is astounding. Even the notebook I did keep on my nightstand got little use. Waking up to write just seemed like too big an imposition to my half-sleeping mind. So many words I will never recover. Such a waste.

Despite losing so many ideas, I've satisfied a certain part of my creative self by blogging. In truth, I carry my iPhone with me essentially everywhere and no longer have an excuse for failing to jot down whatever thoughts pops into my head. I have numerous apps capable of holding snippets and random ruminations, during the day or in the middle of the night. Not only do I have these apps, I've become a faithful user of them. Depending on what it is that I'm writing down (tracking my weights, a grocery list, a story idea, the beginnings of a blog post...) I've essentially got an app for it. Sure, I don't exactly need these different apps, but it makes organizing my thoughts and my daily lists far easier.

Of all the apps I use, Google Docs is my favorite. The familiarity makes it easy; I just type away and save. The similarity between platforms meant there was little to need to spend time for adaptation. A bonus is that, thanks to Google Chrome, anything I do on one device (phone, laptop) is accessible from another, which means I can quickly pick up where I left off. Technology has certainly had a positive effect on my writing, who am I to argue with it?

For the same reasons I love that writing has been made so easy and efficient, I occasionally loathe these tools, because I no longer have an excuse to be lazy and miss a blog post. I can't simply brush off the stories that beg for attention, well at least not in the same way I once did. Short of being behind the wheel of a car, there aren't many justifiable excuses for failing to capture the words as they present themselves.

Ridiculous as may sound, technology created an answer to any and almost all of my bad writing habits. In all the ways gadgets, social media and the like may have hindered our interactions with others, I cannot deny the incredible way it has aided my creative side. Tonight, and most nights truly, I am grateful that being 'plugged in' is a good thing.

One of My Happy Past-times

Despite being as modern as I consider myself, I enjoy some things that are often (unfairly) associated with the domesticated female role of years gone by. Ok, so the fact that I used the word 'modern' as a descriptor dates me, badly. I'm also aware that depending on the age of the person who reads this, the correlation between certain tasks and previously held gender-specific roles may not be appreciated.

I thoroughly enjoy standing in a kitchen preparing food. By no means do I think this task is strictly for women, as I am well aware that people of both sexes are, and have long been food prep enthusiasts. It is still quite a prevalent thought among certain generations that the woman's place is in the kitchen, which is the population in mind as I write this.

I wouldn't say I'm a culinary diva; I lack many skills, particularly those needed when wielding knives. Despite my possession of only the most basic kitchen adeptness, I manage to produce some above average meals. While my body may not appreciate the time I spend standing at a counter chopping, diving, stuffing and sautéing, I still find great satisfaction. The art of preparing food, however basic, has become even more of a draw to me since developing certain food allergies.

I once had a lackluster approach to cooking; it served a purpose - nourishing my family. And anyone who has young children understands that cooking to everyone's palette is exhausting, so simple dishes increased the odds that food wasn't left to waste. Simple food wasn't anything I found a reason to get excited about.

As my sons got older, and my food budget pinched, cooking became a stress. The boys ate a much larger variety of foods, foods that I also enjoyed, but often they were ingredients that seemed like a luxury given their price tags. Despite that hurdle, I learned to enjoy being creative with dinner, especially when the reaction to the result was positive.

I grew up with a mother who was essentially banned from the kitchen during my early years, to one who discovered she was more than capable of making great dishes after her divorce. I have far more memories of my mother contentedly bustling about our kitchen than I do of her standing on the sidelines of someone else's culinary endeavors, and it is that version of my mother that I attribute to my comfort in the kitchen. 

I find it relaxing, as well as fulfilling to create a variety of meals that aren't repetitive or boring. I may never be an amazing cook with an aptitude for churning out fine cuisine, but I have no aspirations to either. I am more than satisfied to be on the above average scale of everyday, in-home cooking aficionados. I don't need to excel at presentation or playing, so long as the food tastes good and the offerings aren't the same dishes, week after week. 

When I want exceptional, I venture out for food made by career professionals. If I'm looking for home-style dishes that are pleasantly varied, I spend time in my kitchen, confident that I do all right, enjoy the task, and it has absolutely nothing to do with my gender. 

Oh It's Crowded in the House Tonight

It's quite probable a few things went better than most of my day, aside from dinner and seeing The Revenant, but at the moment, nothing comes to mind. It isn't as though things went badly, it's more that everything seemed out-of-sorts. I wouldn't say I'm displeased by what life's offerings were, I'm alive, still healthy, and, as far as I can ascertain, I'm sane.

It seems, as of late, that there are more topsy-turvy moments than normal. I realized all at once that I have an adult son, who wants to have a social life, another son who is nearly grown, and we live far too small of a space to exist comfortably. Years from now I will remember this time and wish to experience 'just one more moment' like this, but at the moment - not so much.

I remember what it was like being 20. Of course, I lived on my own by then. Life was just starting; I was no longer a kid. Despite tragic events, I still managed to experience the freedom that allowed me to make a complete ass of myself, party with my friends into the wee hours of the morning without parental consequence, and eventually, realize that living back home with the family wasn't as bad as I once believed.

There is little doubt that the freedom I had led to a deeper appreciation for what I had taken for granted. Looking at my own children, I wonder if I have held tight for too long. Life isn't what it was 25 years ago, nor will it be as it is now a decade into the future. Our need for independence may always nag at us, but the preservation of whatever lifestyle we have grown accustomed to carries far more weight. Will my sons kids find their footing in the world even later in years than they did?

Rushing them out and on their own path is not an objective of mine at the moment, but on occasion - like tonight I can't help but imagine when exactly my first little bird will leave the nest. And that thought is followed by the fleeting vision of solitude and peace. Oh, I wake from that little reverie quite quickly, because without a doubt, no matter how often the friends fill this small space until I want to run away, I know these are the memories that will bring me comfort when they have left my home for good.

Any Day is the Perfect Day

While I may begin something at the start of the year, I don't make resolutions. Change is far too important to save for that first day on a new calendar. The day we choose to eat better, workout, be more enlightened, or walk the positive path isn't nearly as monumental as is the choice being made.

Some changes take planning and understandably cannot begin the day after deciding to change our path. Overall, people talking about making more small alterations within a year than they do big ones, though the reasons to not follow through seem to greatly outnumber their original intents. It's just easier to put things off and not try. The problem with that is over time, the hopes and dreams, the good ideas pile up in the corner of our minds, undone, and essentially become tools of bitterness.

There have been far too many should have, could have, wish I would have moments in my life. I finally got tired of letting my inner skeptic talk me out of doing what I want, or making better choices just because it may have involved a little risk and actual work. For the most part, I am proactive in my desire to continue becoming all I can be, and all that hope to become. If it occurs to me that I need to approach something from a different way, I don't put it off until the 'right time' comes along; I make the changes within a day or two, while the idea and desire are still fresh in my mind.

By the same premise, I don't celebrate holidays or special occasions quite the way I used to. When I want to show someone I care about what their presence in my life means to me, I do something that reflects that whenever I can. There is no waiting for a certain day, because every day has the potential to present opportunity and meaning.

I don't want to entertain regret or her ugly sisters doubt and resentment. When I fail to act on change, a goal, or showing someone I care, I have thrown away moments that I will never get back. Wasted time and opportunity do nothing to help us along our chosen road, nor do they help us navigate to a better one when it is clear the direction we are going just isn't leading to where we had hoped or intended.

If you want to make changes, try new things, or spend time with someone you care about, commit to doing just that. Don't wait for a new year, the start of a new month, or some preset date on a calendar to start. We get more out of our efforts when we have our whole hearts behind them. Delaying actions causes interest, motivation, and conviction to wane, and with that we try less and less to succeed. Make sure you're giving it all you originally intended when you first decided to make the change, and follow through instead of letting potentially amazing things pass you by.

Tomorrow Deserves 20/20 Vision

Today my father would have been 61. He only lived part way into his 39th year of life, before cancer stopped the adventure train. Twenty-one years after that loss, there are still days when the remnants of sorrow over the loss of his unique and loving presence bring tears to my eyes. It isn't difficult to remember the overwhelming grief, the agony of death's finality, or seeing the pain on the faces of those who knew and loved him. 

Just how do we move from inconsolable mourning to experiencing joy again? When the emotional turmoil is so fresh, so intense, it's all-consuming. That there are other things to think about or do, other feelings that wait to burst forth, seems so impossible when the pain has flooded your soul. I think the reason it's so hard to move past loss, hurt, and disappointment is because we hold everything good in our lives up in comparison to the vast pit of heartache, sorrow, or  despair left by what or who we lost.

It isn't that the positive light has left us or diminished, it's that we wear our pain like a sort of camera filter, making it difficult to see what is all around us. Removing that filter is the only way the good in our lives can ever help is heal. More often than not, the process of shedding the obscured view we may have shielded ourselves from life with is an arduous process. One that may take months, and a whole lot of repeatedly starting over, each time we allow the hurt to snap whatever life obstruction we have found ourselves using back up over our eyes. 

Some of us try to heal too quickly, not processing what the pain means or figuring out how to continue on our journey without that loved one, or separate from the loss we may have suffered. Others grip tightly to the despair in the hopes that somehow, someway a part of what we lost will stay. Still more refuse to ever deal with their emotions, moving swiftly into whatever comes their way, ignoring the buildup of sadness and grief each time they do so. 

There is no actual guidebook that works for every, single one of us when it comes to dealing with loss and pain. No step-by-step, foolproof manifesto on getting beyond the hurt and learning to enjoy life again. Just like there is not designated time for mourning, there is no way to know how long the sorrow will ache. I believe that what makes it all the more tragic, is that many have no idea how to be okay with going through and feeling every ounce of heartbreak and desolation. The prospect of feeling that kind of rawness is too much for some, and the panic and fear lock them in place. They are unable to move forward, unwilling to feel, yet completely consumed by the torment, and stuck in a limbo that can take more from them they are not prepared to lose. 

Pain, while painful is part of life. Without it, we couldn't possibly feel the depth and richness of joy, at least not in the way that makes us long for the happiest of moments. When we experience loss, we neglect to remember all that we still have in our lives. It isn't that the loss is trivial, or shouldn't be felt. It's that the wonderful things that make our lives so full, so meaningful are the exact things that can keep us afloat when all we want to do is drown. 

Like it or not, life goes on. And yes, it moves forward without whoever we've lost (through death or a parting of ways), or whatever job, goal or lifestyle we once held. If we only remember that pain has an automatic filter that hides the joy from us when we need it most, then maybe we can move into our tomorrow, and all the tomorrows we are granted beyond that with lighter, brighter hearts and minds. Maybe then we can see the silver lining each day brings us, and realize loss doesn't mean we have been forbidden to seek the positive light around us.

Cable-knits, Knee-highs and Neats

I am no fan of winter. The snow, the slush, the too-short period of daylight, and don't even get me started on the COLD. How I've managed to live in this state for as long as I have, all the while loathing it nearly six months out of the year is beyond me.

There are those who will tell anyone who isn't a fan of November through March up in these parts, that all they need to do is find an outdoor activity that they like to take the bite out of this wintery hell. Sorry, tried that and it hasn't done a thing to quell my rabid dislike for the dead season. It's months of lamenting the loss of the warm sun, open window temperatures and sandy beach visits for me. Mother Nature can suck it; I will never appreciate her wiles this time of year - no matter how she tries to woo me.

As the choice to be a more positive, silver lining kind of person, this display of negative whining should be something I can rise above. At least, some might think so, at any rate. Here's the thing: I know that despite my vehement nose-thumbing at Father Winter, I've acquiesced to find a few things that bring a smile to my face, and light up my soul, no matter how dark the mornings and afternoons become. In the name of sanity (and not losing precious growth as a person), these things keep the dark cloud of misery that circles me night and day, until the last bit of dirty snow has evaporated from the lawn, at bay.

It is rather fortunate that I am a fanatic for socks. Quite seriously, I can barely close my sock drawer. Knee socks are by far my favorite, followed closely by fuzzy socks. With tall socks, there's an extra layer of incredible warmth from the top of my shin to the tip of my toes. It's all about blocking out the chill, and maybe a bit about not having to shave, because who cares when it's high stocking weather?! The fuzzy socks, now those are super comfy. They are perfect for curling up under an equally soft blanket on the couch with a glass of red wine while binge watching the X-files. I mean, it doesn't get much better than that when it's single digit mercury readings just outside the door. Yes, socks are one of the few secrets to turning my humdrum outlook of winter into a kind of appreciation that's far more uplifting.

Sweaters are another fabulous item that I have in respectable numbers. I find that wrapping my all-too-prone to shivering body in soft, cowl-neck knit-wear can perk up even the most sour of my blue winter moods. Layers are a must when the forecast calls for below freezing cold spells, and there is no better companion for layering than an oversized sweater. They go with nearly anything, so whether I need to dress up, or I'm just lounging about the house watching football and drinking whiskey, I've got a sweater that will cover me. These ladies who pair such wonderful woven attire with micro-skirts and knee boots ought to have their heads examined. Donning a sweater is an immediate and undeniable sign that visible skin of any kind - save your face and hands, is absolutely, unequivocally, off limits until those springtime birds are chirping their happy, little 'everything is new' songs.

Wouldn't you know that I saved the best of my favorite blustery coping aids for last? There is nothing that can warm me through and through when everything else fails to shake off the chill quite like whiskey. When the heat just can't work its way into my skin, when the sweater and socks just don't stop the 'Brrrr' factor, a snifter full of heavenly Irish amber knocks ole Father Winter, Jack Frost, and Mother Nature on their arses for the night. The moment that first sip makes its way across my tongue to the back of my throat I know the world is right once again. That slow burn down my chest to my happy belly blasts away any remaining icy fingers of cold that try to linger too long. An ethereal glow spreads from my head to my feet, prepared to lull away any irritable notions the far-too-crisp air may have tried to instigate.

I may protest when the snowflakes start to fly, but I know that until I watch the last of them die away (with a broad grin affixed on my face), I've got my creature comforts to keep me loving this life, instead of falling into an inconsolable state of despair.

It's About More Than Just Those Muscle Gains...Much More

There may be those who read this post that do not agree with my view on the connection between social/intimate relationships and fitness. I feel compelled to share my thoughts, just the same.

There has been a slowly progressing belief in my life, that has all but finally revealed itself to me. I may continue to spend a bit of time fine tuning this belief, but the foundation and general idea are surprisingly stable. Experiencing this type of realization is always a bit of a fascinating time, so true to form, I can't help but write about it.

Throughout my 44 years on this earth, there have been many sayings that have impacted my way of thinking. These 'truisms', as I've come to see them, seem to guide me in my one-of-a-kind journey. That's not to say I live solely by these words and phrases, just that they have helped shape who I am and the way I live. In this same way, my newfound dedication to being fit has taken hold and influenced who I am - who I want to be.

"You only get out what you put in." 

The commitment needed to become fit, no matter what method a person may choose, is not unlike that required for successfully healthy, beneficial relationships and friendships. Beyond dedication, the path of fitness can improve our outlook on the world, life, and those with which we surround ourselves. Not seeing the connections? Let me explain.

When I decided that I wanted to give my new and improved soul a body that complimented the hard work and changes made within, it took a level of commitment that I had been unable to rise to in the past. The routine alone was just plain horrifying to my scatterbrained approach to many aspects of my day-to-day. I had once considered routine to be a prison of those who lacked passion and creativity. In reality, I was avoiding the process of pushing myself to succeed at anything.

My mother would say I "learned everything the hard way." Being independent for me often meant figuring things out on my own, regardless of others' offers to show me a faster, less grueling way. I like to think that I have made great strides in being open to assistance. That progress is in no small part due to seeking out advice and proven structure with weight training and overall body health. Maintaining a properly functioning and resilient body are just too important to attempt figuring out on my own - the hard way.

Of course, I researched and tried a few things here and there, but when I finally made the choice to get serious and work at this not just as a goal, but as a way of life, I sought out expert advice. In all my searching I found that Beach Body fit all of my goals, not just my physical ones. Every program that I have incorporated into my fitness adventure has added to the overall confidence and sense of completeness I feel each and every day. That, however, is a different post all on its own. 

Just how does this fit into relationships and friendship? Incredibly, it can be seen in almost every aspect of human interaction. 

Making long-term changes for the better, sticking to a routine and regularly challenging myself to push physical limits has instilled the importance and doable nature of working toward something. Good relationships, romantic or otherwise, don't just stand the test of time without effort. People change, mistakes get made, and unforeseen events occur requiring shifts to maintain connections. If a person has the drive to better themselves through fitness, they have the necessary qualities needed to repair, rebuild and foster strength with those they hold dear. 

"You can't truly love someone until you first love yourself."

Though that kind of hard work is a product of well-practiced diligence, there are other effects that while internal, impact how we relate and function with others. Choosing to change our bodies for the better instantly leads to a better sense of self. All too often we put ourselves on the proverbial backburner to do for everyone else. We are all guilty of it, parents in particular. When we stop neglecting ourselves, we begin to understand what it is to feel truly valued. There is no other way to show another person how we value them without first believing the value we possess ourselves. 

Pace. Oh that seemingly elusive thing any number of us can see missing all around us. Thanks in no small part to social media and technology. Who needs to exercise patience in a culture of instant EVERYTHING? By approaching weight training as something to build on, slowly, I've avoided setbacks because of injury. That means I see results that last. Sure they may have taken weeks and months to show up, but the gains are undeniably real and so worth the wait! If you think a person has some level of value, having the willpower of pacing yourself ensures you will get to know them and build a sturdy foundation that will make all the fun stuff that much better. When you can appreciate the whole person, everything you experience with them is so much more memorable and worthwhile. That doesn't come from instantaneous gratification. Diligence, patience and appreciation.

"Enough is enough."

Having a solid sense of self, truly understanding your value, and being able to identify your limits are specific lessons that come from sculpting your body. If you possess all of these, you are a fine-tuned machine. When something doesn't feel right, you stop and adjust your form. If you feel like you can do even one more rep, then it's likely that you didn't give your all. I know I spent far too much of my life beating a dead horse. In the sense of just not knowing when I'd given too much to something or someone that simply didn't possess the value I imagined. So much of myself that I foolishly gave away that could have been otherwise used for better purposes, and more worthy individuals. I failed to recognize the ways I overextended myself and my graciousness, because I had no idea what my limits were. When we explore and learn how to maintain the limits that keep us safe from injury, while allowing us to continue growing, it is far more likely we will be able to walk away from those things that will inevitably do us harm. 

When I chose to change my body, after experiencing growth as a person spiritually, I never expected this fitness journey to continue shaping who I am. Let alone pave a more visible path to the person I want to become. I had no idea just how much I still had to learn about myself, but I am elated to have learned enough to identify it and embrace it so completely.

It isn't about what the world sees when they look at me from the outside; it's what shines through to the people who can appreciate all that I am and all I have to offer.

Well-intended Plans Are Just Hopeful Guesstimations

At the end of the day, no matter how crazy and disconnected the events that transpired may be, I made it through with the chance to see another day dawn.

Plan as I might, sometimes things just play out the way they do, with little input from me. I may find this aggravating, but when all is said and done, there is usually a greater purpose to how the hours unfold. The bitch of it is that I may have no idea what exactly those purposes are until much later down the road. The golden opportunity in that is that I learn things - valuable things, that I might well have skipped by had the grand scheme of life been revealed too soon.

There was a time when I was so quick to make a decision, that I would jump into something else without properly digesting what I had just been through. Good situations or bad, it is usually more beneficial to think about the things that happened before turning our attention to something new. We are better prepared to pace ourselves, and far more capable of understanding or making sense of whatever may come to pass. It's like taking a bite of a new food; you don't want to spit it back out before you actually taste it. There's no possible way to know if it is something you will like or something you won't want to eat again if you don't first allow yourself the experience of tasting it.

Can you imagine going through life with only snippets of interaction? Hearing the first part of a great joke only to miss the punchline, or anticipating the end of a fantastic story but never knowing just how it all tied together. The irritation of those minor things pales in comparison to always wondering how, why, and what if about your own existence. While we may not always enjoy the way something turns out, never knowing would haunt us until our own end.

Just because what I hope for, plan for or anticipate doesn't always happen the way I imagined, I'd never trade having lived through the events I have. I won't ever let the fear of the unknown put me in the position of ever having to wonder, either. There may not always be the kind of purpose and excitement in a relationship, job opportunity or adventure that I hope for, but that doesn't mean the time spent with a person, learning something new or trying something out of my comfort zone was without value.

I believe that everything I have done, each avenue I have tried and every person I have come to know has led to where I am, how I interact with the world around me and how I view life. I wouldn't trade any of it just to know all things went exactly as I envisioned they would before I ever traveled the path they led me down. After all, even shit is used in amazing ways.

Never Stop Collecting Experiences

A short post this evening.

In those moments, when you realize how full your life is, pause. Give yourself time to really be present and focused on nothing else. Commit as much as you can to memory (there will be times you will reach for those long since passed seconds, minutes or hours), but most especially fix your attention to how that realization makes you feel.

We get through the days with the desire to continue living for as long as we possibly can because of those moments; those exact emotions of intense gratitude and peace. Stockpiling as many as we can bolster our strength to keep looking toward the future, while letting go of fear and negativity in our present.

Never stop collecting experience. Your life and ability to claim happiness depend on being able to want both. 

A Plan of Action

Indeed, a silver lining shows up nearly everywhere if you're open enough to recognize it. Admittedly, the path to finding those moments is easier and shorter when you have a cheerful and positive mindset. Of course, negative and gloomy thoughts push the light of what is good around us further from discovery. Being able to rise above whatever hurdles and roadblocks life presents by choosing happy, peaceful snippets along our path is essential to enjoying the world. I find, however, that the deepest impact that brings change happens when I am fighting through darker times.

When I express my gratitude for the life I am living, it isn't because my days are exceptionally happy. More often than not I find I need to stare down negative thoughts that are quite literally threats to my continued ability to experience optimal happiness. I don't suffer from depression or anxiety on any measurable level, so I cannot say my approach to living a happy existence would work solely on its own merits where those types of diagnoses are present. What I do know, and what I can attest to is that even the most balanced of us cannot escape the potential for negative thinking.

Worry that comes from stress is little more than fear, yet despite knowing that, the grasp is often quite powerful. Day to day, I set out to focus on what has gone well, and most of the time I surprise myself with how much I'm able to recognize. Those days that it's more challenging, well, more involved measures are often necessary to change my stuck in a rut thinking.

Though it hasn't always been the case, I rely heavily on exercise to change whatever broken record of self-doubt or doom and gloom happens to be playing in my head. It's likely that any change of routine would work well to switch into a more positive frame of mind, but my fail-safe is weight training. The exertion and focus that are required create the perfect opportunity for more positive energy. There is little to no benefit in working out when you're mentally beating yourself up. I know that if I cannot effectively change gears by redirecting my thoughts, putting my all into shaping my body and increasing my endurance leads to more than just physical strength.

Every day presents the possibility of good and bad. No matter how we try to avoid the pull of negative emotions, there will be times when those feelings get the upper hand. Even the most practiced of positive living individuals has to face their own inner shortcomings regularly. Choosing to be happy is only half of what it takes to know happiness. Having a back-up, fool-proof way to cast away the darker stuff - that's the most important thing a person can possess.

We don't always need a plan to enjoy the good moments, but we should always have one to turn the less desirable times into something better.