In my dream, it was the first day of school. I guess I was in 8th or 9th grade. I had all my back-to-school supplies and I had my list of classes and I arrived early. Well-prepared, I thought, and ready to go.
So... I go to my first class and I am when they called roll, my name was not called. When I asked about that, I was told that that class was full and I got bumped to another teacher's class for that subject. Okay. So, I head to her classroom to find that due to a sprinkler system leak, that class had been moved to another room. Where? Nobody could tell me. So, I went door to door till I found the right class, but I was very late. The teacher was very sweet and understanding and helped me find a desk and pointed to a stack of papers on the desk that I wasc to choose from for a writing exercise.
The assignment was to write a one-page story using the three elements on the assignment page. Every page was different. I took one, sat down, nothing came to me for some reason. I can't remember the details, but it was something like, "Write a story that incorporates a road trip, 3 apples, and a cousin." I had total writer's block and I got up and took another page from the stack, thinking I might have better luck with a different list of required elements. I came up with something and just as I was folding up my story with the assignment page I was working from...you know how you fold a notebook paper page vertically and write your name, date, class, etc. on the top front side...I happened to see on the back of the assignment page (bottom of the back side), "Be sure to start your story with this phrase: ..." (I don't remember what it was, something like: "I had been looking forward to this day for....")
I looked up at the clock then I looked at my paper and panicked. The bell was about to ring for me to go to the next class and I did not have room to insert this required sentence at the beginning of my story nor did I have time to rewrite the entire story before the bell rang.
Just then, my alarm went off, and I woke up. My heart was pounding just like it was in the dream. I was so stressed out. I got up and started getting ready to get the kids off to school. The 2 high-schoolers had spent the night with their Dad and I was getting my preschooler's things together. 6:15 I get a call from my ex saying that he left my son behind because he had to go back into the house to get something and they didn't have time to wait on him without being late. It would make my daughter 20 minutes later than she had meant to be getting to school and my ex told me it was not fair to make her late because of her brother not being prepared. So, I drove my daughter to school, stopped to get gas, picked up my son and drove him to the bus stop then came home. I had already spent over an hour and a half in the car and I was too exhausted to take my preschooler to her school until I had rested. That is a 45 minute round trip by itself. My son up being a half-hour late and I took my preschooler in much later, but that wasn't a big deal.
I still feel like my body is being flooded with stress hormones and it is now just a few
Even with insurance, counseling is expensive. I really wish more people would try harder, sooner, to try to change themselves so their unhappy relationships might change. This looked like a good program and I know a lot of women who could benefit from it. It takes work, though. But it is usually easier to fix a relationship than to start over. A new relationship will just have a new set of problems, right?
CLICK ON THIS LINK;
She was 30 years old and her doctor told her "tomorrow is the day" she would have her diseased colon removed to try to save her life.The doctor had been treating her for 2 years and during that time all she could eat was baby food. She had such severe ulcerative colitis she weighed 87 pounds and had been in the hospital for a week and was given blood and fluids to replace what her body was losing through her diseased colon. She was allergic to the medication that normally would have been given to help the bowel to heal. There was nothing else to be done by the doctors besides this drastic surgical procedure.
Her doctor warned her husband to not upset her. She was so weak unless she had the will to live, she might not make it through the surgery. There had been a tragic car wreck involving family members, but nobody dared tell her until after the surgery.
She had a mental health consultation and had talked to people who had had colostomies who were supposed to help her feel okay about "life after colostomy," but she was praying to God to either heal her or just let her die because she did not want to have to wear a bag against her abdomen to collect feces every day for the rest of her life.She turned on the television in her room and one of the channels she saw a man who was preaching about healing and James 5. She felt God tell her, "If you do this, I will heal you." She called her husband and told him to bring some deacons and some oil and follow the instructions that were given in the Bible in James 5:14-16. "We don't do that! We're Baptists!" She insisted that if they wouldn't do this for her, she'd call every church of every denomination in the phone book until she found someone who would. Remembering what the doctor had said about not letting her get upset, her husband and deacons soon showed up at her bedside with a bottle of olive oil which they "anointed" her with and prayed for her to be healed.
The next morning, the morning of the surgery, the Dr. did a final pre-op colonoscopy to see how much of her bowel would need to be removed. It had only been one week since her last colonoscopy and she had only been given clear fluids and blood transfusions. No medication to help heal the bowel, because she was allergic to it.
As the doctor was looking through the colonoscope, he kept saying, "Oh, my! Oh, my!" and my stepmother asked what the "Oh, My-ing" was all about. Her doctor told her, " If I had not been the one treating you for the past 2 years and the one who had done all your colonoscopies, I would not believe this." Her bowel was as perfect as a baby's, he said. No ulcerations, no lesions, no scarring. Perfect. There was no need for the colostomy because there was no disease anymore. What could she eat? Anything. She was sent home and she stopped at the store and her first solid food she was able to eat in 2 years was some Bing cherries. After 2 years of suffering, she was totally healed and has not had a recurrence in 40-plus years. Her name is Mary Anne Missick and she can tell you the story herself, but I think I got all the facts straight. She believes God healed her in response to her following the instructions in James 5:14-16.
This is the recipe Dilara and I worked from when we made rose and peony petal jam the other day. I used peony because I didn't have many roses, and peony and rose smell good together to me, so I thought they would taste good. I was surprised at how long i had to cook it, and just today it dawned on me that I had halved this recipe....since I only had 2 ounces of petals, but I did not halve the water!!! It turned out okay and Dilara even put some in her yogurt. She LOVED making and eating it. We did not let the petals sit for 1-2 days. She really enjoyed massaging the sugar into the petals by hand. And it smelled so nice! http://www.bakespace.com/recipes/detail/Rose-Petal-Preserves/5387/
I will use this recipe next time. It has less sugarhttp://english.turkishcookbook.com/2010/07/rose-jam.html
I guess 100g. is a little more than 3 ounces. I really wish I knew how Dilara's Babanne makes it. If I had her recipe, I would keep it, but if another recipe suited me better, I would use it instead. It is just nice to have family recipes.
It would be so nice for me to have recipes to pass down from Sinan's side of the family. I have several recipes I use from my great-grandmother, my grandmother, my aunt. And I cherish my great-grandmother's Better Homes and Garden's Cookbook from the early 1960's that has the brownie recipe she used and it has her handwriting where she made notes besides recipes. I also have my grandfather's waffle recipe in his own handwriting. I have several recipes , also, from my ex-husband's mother and grandmother. I am looking forward to passing all of these on to my children and grandchildren.
My teenagers think Turkish food is strange and my teenaged daughter thought eating something made from roses was unappetizing..."like eating perfume"...but hopefully her children will be more open minded! In the mean time, Dilara and I are trying to root cuttings so we can have more rose bushes and I am planning on buying a new rose bush of the "cabbage rose" variety next year! And if Dilara or I ever get to see Babanne again, we'll ask for the recipe. I would also like to know about the "sheep intestines stuffed with seasoned rice" that Sinan told me about, but that is one recipe I would like to have just for educational purposes....I would never want to actually make and eat anything like that!
of wonderful foods
Yesterday my 5 year old saw the boxed up Easy -Bake oven that my older daughter (almost 16) had used. I am trying to get my car, house, and yard cleaned up and I didn't want to get any major projects started. I don't think the baking will be as big or an ordeal as I'm making it out to be, and she is so ridiculously excited, we will probably be baking sooner rather than later.
Problem...the outrageously expensive mixes.
I so appreciate people who take the time and make the effort to look good and smell good. I know it isn't for MY PLEASURE that make themselves nicer to be around, but it is interesting to think of it like that.
I am still trying to lose weight. I keep having setbacks with health issues that make it hard to get my exercise in and stress issues that make me turn to food for comfort sometimes. Nothing like it used to be, though.
I want to lose at least a little more weight. I want to get rid of some midriff fat. If I can get my waist down to 32, that will be great. That is what Dr. Qz said should be my maximum. Waist size is a lot more important than weight. I carry SO MUCH fat around my midsection. I imagine fat is crowding my organs. I expect I have a very large omentum, like the big one Dr. Oz displayed on his show.
Right this moment, I feel very sick. I am at the Y playing with my daughter. She is making me a pretend pizza. I did spend an hour on the treadmill and just a few minutes on the rowing machine. I have had 2 bottles of water today. I have eaten well, and not too much. I have a migraine and just took some medicine for it. I have no makeup on and my hair is in a single braid down my back. So, at this moment, I pretty much look like crap. I just want to go home and go to bed, but I should have at least put on some eyebrow pencil, eyeliner, and mascara and some of my Burt's Bees Lip Shimmer in "Watermelon". I guess I should cut myself some slack on these days. When I feel badly, I often rub my face and eyes and would smear makeup.
But if I had felt well today, I would have taken a shower after I worked out and spent a few minutes on makeup and put on some fragrance. I know some people are sensitive, but I think a little bit should be okay. I was in an elevator yesterday and it smelled very strongly of some man's fragrance, and nobody was in there! That was a bit much, I think. I took a shower last night and washed my hair before I went to bed. I liberally applied "Shower to Shower" deodorant body powder. I didn't sweat much on the treadmill and I think nobody will be smelling any BO coming off of me before I get home and take a shower.
I heard it say that the French think it is ill-mannered to go out without making yourself attractive for those who have to look at you. I think it would be ill-mannered of someone to think badly of me for the way I look today, because I am really too sick to go to any pains with my appearance.
Yesterday I saw a young woman in a whole set of flannel pajamas at Wal-mart. She didn't look sick to me. I have thrown a coat over my nightgown before when I have made a medication run to the pharmacy. But that is not my usual routine.
It is really just as important for me to look good for MYSELF as it is for me to look good for others. When I look good and smell good, I feel good, or at least BETTER than I would not fixed up.
I have accumulated a pretty good wardrobe for the moment. I think when I lose weight, I will try to alter some of my favorite clothes I am wearing now. I pay very little for clothes at the thrift store and I get some VERY nice things. I need to spend more money on pantyhose, underwear, shapewear. Shapewear makes a HUGE difference. My measurements don't line up to any size chart. My bust and belly are my biggest parts...my hips and thighs are much smaller. I expect to have to take a lot of things in to make my clothes really flattering.
I need to make friends with my sewing machine and I need to have my alterations lady do the tricky things,like resetting shoulders for me when I have lost some weight.
My daughter got a prom dress at the Thriftstore for $20 and I am trying to hem it and take in the bodice myself. My son has a forensics tournament coming up and I got a Ralph Lauren Navy blazer (one on Kohl's website that is similar ir not identical says it retails for $175, but they are selling it for $99). It is size 38. Looks like it fits him well, but there is a tiny moth hole I will try to mend after I get it cleaned. A button fell off as he was trying it on, but we kept it and I already sewed it back on. I'll have to keep an eye on those metal buttons. I think they cut thread quickly. That boy needs to learn how to dress like a gentleman. A Navy blazer/dress sport coat is an essential item. He is still growing, I think, so it is good to not have to spend a lot of money on something he might not be able to wear for long.
I need to learn to do more mending and alterations as well as how to put outfits together. Found some neat websites:http://thriftygent.com/blog/http://anaffordablewardrobe.blogspot.com/2010/01/make-minor-repairs.htmlhttp://www.ravefabricare.com/true-quality-cleaning/2010/12/28/reweaving-moth-holes-(or-rips-or-tears)-in-your-fine-garments.aspx details about repairing, but not a 'how to"http://www.esquire.com/style/tips/blazer-vs-coat-vs-jacket-0709
this esquire site looks like it has lots of good info on the subject of "Style and Grooming"http://blog.suitupp.com/2009/04/13/how-to-repair-your-suit-reweaving/http://www.awesomeguides.com/money_maker_reweaving_book_tailor_sewing.htm
learn how to do your own reweaving!http://shrouduniversity.com/frenchreweavinginstructionbook.pdfhttp://www.realmenrealstyle.com/mens-clothing-flexibility/http://www.thefrenchreweavers.com/
My men are like ice cream. I surprise myself sometimes with what my mind comes up with. And it makes sense to me, even if it doesn't make sense to anyone else. But today some weird, but very vivid images popped into my head and I wanted to write it down before I forgot. I will always be sad about my ex-husband (and father of my 2 oldest children) choosing taking another wife, and I will always be sad about getting "dumped" by my youngest daughter's father. But there has been a lot of healing that has taken place in my heart and I like these little "movies" that pop up in my head and they kind of bring some clarity to my recovery from my disappointments. I want to share them with others, not just so people can understand how I am looking at things (if they care! LOL!), but also because I know my experiences are not unique. TIME was a critical part of my healing and I don't think there is any way to bypass that, but I do think talking about it and thinking things through made the healing come more quickly than if I just kept everything inside and let them slowly decompose.
To use a composting analogy, when I talk and write and listen to other people (friend or therapist) about my problems, it is like picking up a pitchfork and breaking a bit of a sweat by turning a compost pile, incorporating oxygen so the process goes faster. Stuff can compost anaerobically (without oxygen), too. But it is a stinkier process, and often takes longer, and some parts of the pile (like earthworms) die from lack of oxygen. Whether someone composts aerobically or anaerobically is not always just a matter of choice. Neither is the way one spends their time during the healing process. We all should use the resources we have available, but some of us have more resources than others.
I have had two "serious relationships" in my life. Between those two I felt like I was in love for few weeks, but it really didn't count as anything serious, in hindsight (panicked, manic, rebound). My marriage was serious, and my relationship to my youngest child's dad was serious, but only after I got pregnant. We were in an exclusive relationship (at his request, but I left an "out" in case my ex-husband wanted to reconcile at some point), but we had no intention of it being long term. Of course, that changed when our child was born and he chose to have joint custody.
I was thinking today about how, if my men were like ice cream, my ex-husband would have been my favorite Pistachio Almond Fudge, standing out among the 30 other flavors. I think when we got divorced, the ice cream got dropped, not onto the ground, but onto a relatively clean surface, say it dropped on the counter and somehow rolled back into the freezer. I still wanted it, but couldn't reach it and make it mine again, but for a while, nobody else wanted it but me and I felt like it was waiting there for when I was ready and somebody would pick it up and put it in my hand again. But after he got remarried and redivorced, he had lost his appeal. It was like another woman had picked up my scoop of ice cream and licked it all over and bit into it and there was a chunk missing. I found that even though I could have taken that ice cream cone back, part of it would always be missing, taken by the other woman, and by this time I had decided that maybe Pistachio Almond Fudge isn't quite my favorite in the world, after all, especially after my scoop had someone else's germs all over it and part of it was in that someone else's stomach. Someone did pick it up and hand it to me again, but I said, "No, thanks."
Now, my little one's dad brings a totally different image to mind. After my scoop of my favorite ice cream (my ex-husband) was dipped out and put into my hand and I got to enjoy it for a while before it fell off and rolled back into the freezer, all the other ice cream was removed. I didn't care; that was the only scoop of ice cream I ever wanted and thought I ever would want. Then the other woman picked up my scoop of ice cream that I could not reach. She looked like she had every intention of eating it all up herself, but I hoped she would decide she didn't like it and would put it back for me, but I couldn't stand to watch my scoop of Pistachio Almond Fudge slowly being licked away by this strange woman while I stood there empty handed. I looked again and saw that the freezer had been restocked, but with practically empty cartons. There was one, almost empty carton of slightly freezer-burned Cold Duck Ice (the least desirable flavor, to me, but I can eat it under duress) but there was enough to scrape together into one decent sized scoop and on a sweltering hot day, it was better than nothing, and at that point, "nothing" was my only alternative because at that point there was another woman holding and eating my precious Pistachio Almond Fudge.
For a short while I found refreshment in that Cold Duck Ice. It was different than what I was looking for, but it was cold and wet when I was suffocating from heat and thirst and since it was available, I felt like it was best to enjoy it as much as I could while I was waiting for the other woman to decide she didn't want my Pistachio Almond Fudge, after all.
Sadly, nothing went as I might have hoped or expected. When I got pregnant, I dropped my Cold Duck Ice onto the ground. It rolled a little ways away and picked up some dirt, dried grass clippings, and a tiny twig or two. I tried to pick it back up, but I never could get a good grip on it. It was melting so fast and when I tried to scrape or pull the dirt and debris off of it, I found that I was actually pushing some of it in deeper because it was in the hot sun, melting, and it was so soft and not only that, every time I touched it, it rolled farther away, getting dirtier and more melted. I was so sad and felt so hopeless.
The freezer was still totally empty and the other woman was still licking my Pistachio Almond Fudge.
After a while, I gave up and stared sadly at the dirty, blob of melted Cold Duck Ice, sprinkled with all the dirt and debris it had picked up when it fell and also as I chased after it, trying to make it mine again.
I suddenly noticed that nearby was a shady, cool spot with a water fountain and relieved, I went there and cooled off and my thirst was quenched. I felt more calm and peaceful. I decided that I don't want the Cold Duck Ice anymore. It wasn't really ever right for me. It is melted and dirty and not something I want to eat anymore. It is still there, I still see it, but I just don't want it anymore. I know it isn't anything that can give me even a moment of satisfaction anymore. And maybe it is serving a better purpose melting into the ground and feeding the ants than being my refreshment.
I see the ice cream trucks have visited the ice cream parlor and the freezer is once again full of 31 flavors. There will never be another Pistachio Almond Fudge, nor will their be another Cold Duck Ice for me. But there are lots of flavors I haven't even considered. The ice cream in the freezer now isn't the freshest and best. But there are some nice ones I can enjoy. And there may be a new favorite hidden somewhere. There will always be more ice cream (until I find and settle on another favorite), and I will always have a cool, shady spot and a water fountain available if I simply don't find myself in the mood for ice cream.
Life is good.