Whenever I think what animal I might be -and not that I do this often so no need to worry and call the men in white suits with nets- I always imagined I was closer kin to say, maybe, dolphins or swans. Either I'm a fantasist or a nutter, but I'm clearly deluded.
As it turns out, I'm much closer to the hamster than I previously thought. I never gave hamsters a second glance much less a second thought, but since getting one as a pet almost a month ago, well I'm a little more knowledgeable about those furry little guys.
Here's what I've observed and read about hamsters that relate directly to me:
1) They're hoarders. Hamsters like to bury and hide their food all over the place in their cage. I do the same thing with the Galaxy chocolate bars. The boys know that this is the 'emergency' chocolate but they don't know where I hide it. Because, hey, you never know when there is going to be an emergency.
2) Our hamster has doubled his size since we brought him home from the pet store. Same thing happens to me: I just look at food and I blow up.
3) Hamsters like to burrow. Our little guy buries himself under shavings and white nesting until is bed is about 4 inches high in the cage. I do the same thing. My bed isn't perfect until I have so many blankets layered on that I can barely move.
4)Hamsters don't like you disturbing their home. Me neither. I know my room looks a mess, but I know where everything is. I don't like others nosing around in my things. I can tell the hamster feels the same way. He has everything just so and then I come along and clean out his cage. I can sense his displeasure and I sympathize.
5)Hamsters are nocturnal. I am not a morning person and now I have a pet who isn't either. Well into the middle of the night, I'll be up and the hamster is on his wheel. We are both quite content this way.
Like the hamster, I've learned that when things get to be too much, it's a good idea to burrow in for a little nap with an emergency hoard nearby.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Things I Love About Ireland
It's only fair that I post the flip side to my previous blog. Here are the things that I love about my adopted country:
1) The Irish People. The rumors are true: the Irish are the friendliest, most hospitable bunch of people I've ever met. But most of all, in the 4 years that I've lived here, I've had to remind myself that I am a foreigner here because I never feel that way.
2) Green. Green is the predominant color scheme here all year round. After a good few days of rain, the countryside turns this luxurious shade of green for which there is no name.
3) Scenery. Ireland is the prettiest country in my own opinion. I never get tired of looking at the view, whether I'm in Clare, Tipperary or Kerry. The next stop can only be heaven.
4) The fire. Sitting by the fire is a national pasttime, and one which I don't think I could do without, no matter where I lived.
5) Rain. Yes, I love the rain. And it rains here alot. But it gives the place atmosphere and sometimes, especially if there's fog thrown in for good measure, I feel as if I'm in the middle of a PD James or Elizabeth George novel.
6) Artefacts. They are practically tripping over artefacts here. From the beehive huts in Kerry to Newgrange in Meath, the place is a veritable landmine of artefacts. Locally, back in 1868, 2 boys digging for potatoes found a large, ornate chalice now known as the Ardagh chalice. Just 2 weeks ago in the paper was the story of a Ballylongford, Kerry woman who was cleaning out her grate and found the 1,400 year old Christian broach which had been preserved in the turf. It staggers the imagination what treasure is still out there, undiscovered.
1) The Irish People. The rumors are true: the Irish are the friendliest, most hospitable bunch of people I've ever met. But most of all, in the 4 years that I've lived here, I've had to remind myself that I am a foreigner here because I never feel that way.
2) Green. Green is the predominant color scheme here all year round. After a good few days of rain, the countryside turns this luxurious shade of green for which there is no name.
3) Scenery. Ireland is the prettiest country in my own opinion. I never get tired of looking at the view, whether I'm in Clare, Tipperary or Kerry. The next stop can only be heaven.
4) The fire. Sitting by the fire is a national pasttime, and one which I don't think I could do without, no matter where I lived.
5) Rain. Yes, I love the rain. And it rains here alot. But it gives the place atmosphere and sometimes, especially if there's fog thrown in for good measure, I feel as if I'm in the middle of a PD James or Elizabeth George novel.
6) Artefacts. They are practically tripping over artefacts here. From the beehive huts in Kerry to Newgrange in Meath, the place is a veritable landmine of artefacts. Locally, back in 1868, 2 boys digging for potatoes found a large, ornate chalice now known as the Ardagh chalice. Just 2 weeks ago in the paper was the story of a Ballylongford, Kerry woman who was cleaning out her grate and found the 1,400 year old Christian broach which had been preserved in the turf. It staggers the imagination what treasure is still out there, undiscovered.
7) Size. And it really doesn't matter. This is a small country. We live in the southwest and we could easily drive to Dublin in about 4 hours which is in the northeast. You don't have to travel far to see something here.
8) Lifestyle. It's a very laidback, sleepy lifestyle. That would be one of the things that I love the most- there's no panic. The country really doesn't start to wake up until 10am. And forget about Sundays- the place is a ghosttown.
9) The Irish Independent. I can't help it but I've become addicted to this daily newspaper, especially the Sunday edition, there are just so many interesting things to read.
10) The produce. Granted, I am big fan of Wegmans, but the Irish produce is superior bar none. You haven't tasted a real carrot until you've eaten an Irish one.
11) The Dail. These politicians should have their own reality show. Not for the politically correct I can assure you. The way they trade barbs and insult each other left and right is downright hilarious at times. Who cares if they're not accomplishing anything, they make us laugh in these dire times.
12)Dingle Peninsula. I cannot not mention this place or more specifically, Inch, Dunquin and Ventry. When I first came to the peninsula, it was both familiar and for the first time in my life, I had the feeling that I had come home. No matter where I end up, my ashes will be scattered at Inch Beach.
My heart belongs to America and my soul belongs to Ireland.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Things I Miss About America
I thought that I'd take a break from talking constantly about 'weight and weight issues' and instead, blog about what I miss about America.
1) My family and friends. Needs no explanation except to say that it is an ache that never goes away.
2) Variety. In the US, there truly is something for everyone and everything. I think of the options for cake, pizza and coffees, alone (food of course). But it's like that for everything under the sun.
3) Convenience. It is a 24/7 country. It is never totally asleep. In the middle of the night, you can go to a supermarket, a drugstore, a restaurant, a casino and a gas station. When I used to have trouble sleeping, I'd jump in the car at 3am and go for coffee (and a donut, of course).
4) Four Seasons. Four very distinct seasons with their accompanying, distinct sights and smells. Spring with the mossy green color of the buds and the way the air smells of damp earth at the start of the season. Summer and its golden hues of green and the scents of barbecue, suntan lotion and fresh mowed lawn. Autumn with her leaves in varying hues of red, orange, yellow and purple and the smell of burning leaves and apple cider. Winter is a cold, crisp day with a warm sun, crunching snow and the perfume of Christmas trees.
5) Sports. I just can't make heads or tails of rugby, soccer and football here. It all seems the same. Give me hockey and football, American style, please. Or more specifically, the Sabres and the Bills.
6) Optimism. Despite all the things that are wrong with the US, there is still a lot that is right with it. And Americans, despite their penchant for lawsuits, reality TV and fast food, are still a very optimistic bunch. No whiners allowed.
7) Vastness. You cannot fully appreciate how physically big the US is until you leave it and go someplace else, like Ireland or Europe.
8) Cheaper cost of living. Complaining about gas? Try paying 1.19 a liter- that's almost $6 a gallon. Groceries, clothes, housing, everything is more expensive.
9) Thunderstorms. Despite all the rain, I can count on one hand the times I've heard thunder here in Ireland during the last 4 years. How I long for a good old fashioned American storm: black clouds rolling in, the flash of lightning and the boom of thunder.
10) Crickets. What I wouldn't give to hear them on a hot summer's night.
11) Thanksgiving. After Christmas, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday- I'd wax sentimental about it. I think it's wonderful that a nation pauses and is thankful. And there is no gift buying involved.
12) Freedom. Everything I have, everything I am and everything I freely spout out of my mouth without fear of retribution, I owe because someone else picked up a gun and defended our ideals. There are just some things in this life that you can never be thankful enough for.
There is nothing wrong with America that cannot be fixed by what is right with America.
Bill Clinton
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Weightlessness
Being a big, heavy woman, I tend to be slow moving or not moving at all. My ankle, knee and hip joints sing clickety click whenever I move. I am hyper aware of my body, especially in relation to other people and my immediate environment.
However, there are times when I am weightless.
Water. Water is a fat woman's friend. The bigger you are, the more bouyant you are. I love the fact that when I jump into a pool- well I don't jump- no sense in splashing the windows on the second floor- or wade into the water at the beach, I can float to my heart's content and not sink to the bottom. I'm sure that it was something that was explained in senior Physics class. I skipped that class and took Marriage and Family instead. As it turns out, I should have took the Physics class.
Meditation. For the past 9 or 10 years, I have meditated but not as much as I should. I love when you get to that point when you can no longer feel your body, when you've detached from it. It's a light, ethereal, floating feeling. I'm told (by no one in particular) that when we pass on, we go to the afterlife/heaven/other side in full consciousness but without our bodies. My favorite assertion is that our souls will be reunited with our 'perfect' bodies at the end of time. I figure that it will probably take me an eternity to get my ideal body.
Dreaming. During my dreams and even my nightmares, I am not at all conscious of my weight. In fact, I usually have the body of my dreams. I'm sure that there is some sort of hidden meaning there or a subconscious desire. Or is this akin to something like a paralytic dreaming that he's walking.
So as I forge ahead on my path, I'll continue floating, meditating and dreaming if only to achieve that wonderful feeling of weightlessness.
The real pleasure was having the chance to enjoy being weightless, and the other was to spend some time looking out at this beautiful Earth that we're all lucky to inhabit.
Robert Crippen
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
It's That Time Again
It's that time of the month again.
Despite everything, I got on the scale and faced up to the fact that since the last weigh in, things haven't been good and I have no one to blame but myself.
Here are the stats and it isn't pretty:
313 lbs
22.5 stone
142.8 kg
I'm right back where I started: square one. In 2 months, I've come full circle. I've gained back the weight that I lost. It was the shortest yo yo diet I've ever been on.
I don't feel sorry for myself and I'm not beating myself up over it. It is what it is. I will dust myself off and get back up.
Besides, I'm afflicted with a terrible condition: it's a thing called hope and I've got it in spades. Deep down inside, somewhere, I believe, no- I know, that I'm going to pull myself together, close my mouth and fulfill my potential and be my ideal weight.
I've gained weight. I'm no further ahead as far as getting out of my dysfunctional marriage than I was 5 months ago. I agonise over how the divorce will affect the boys. I'm struggling with 2 very different drafts of the same novel that I've been trying to write for the last year.
And yet, I feel happy today. Perhaps it was the sunshine. It could have been the realization that I'm analyzing details too much instead of focusing on outcomes. Or maybe- just maybe- it was the fact that I didn't beat myself up. Maybe today, I'd love myself, faults and all.
Tomorrow, I may be on that slide into despair. But I have today. And I'm full of hope.
Do not worry if you have built your castles in the air. They are where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.
Henry David Thoreau
Despite everything, I got on the scale and faced up to the fact that since the last weigh in, things haven't been good and I have no one to blame but myself.
Here are the stats and it isn't pretty:
313 lbs
22.5 stone
142.8 kg
I'm right back where I started: square one. In 2 months, I've come full circle. I've gained back the weight that I lost. It was the shortest yo yo diet I've ever been on.
I don't feel sorry for myself and I'm not beating myself up over it. It is what it is. I will dust myself off and get back up.
Besides, I'm afflicted with a terrible condition: it's a thing called hope and I've got it in spades. Deep down inside, somewhere, I believe, no- I know, that I'm going to pull myself together, close my mouth and fulfill my potential and be my ideal weight.
I've gained weight. I'm no further ahead as far as getting out of my dysfunctional marriage than I was 5 months ago. I agonise over how the divorce will affect the boys. I'm struggling with 2 very different drafts of the same novel that I've been trying to write for the last year.
And yet, I feel happy today. Perhaps it was the sunshine. It could have been the realization that I'm analyzing details too much instead of focusing on outcomes. Or maybe- just maybe- it was the fact that I didn't beat myself up. Maybe today, I'd love myself, faults and all.
Tomorrow, I may be on that slide into despair. But I have today. And I'm full of hope.
Do not worry if you have built your castles in the air. They are where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.
Henry David Thoreau
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Blind In One Eye And Can't See Out The Other
I have been struggling with this post since Monday.
Initially when I started this blog it was in an attempt to get control of my life and more specifically, my weight. As of late, I've blogged about everything else but what I've set out to do. I thought blogging would be kind of an aversion therapy by putting my demons out there in the public domain. Instead, I've realized how serious my avoidance issues are. In my life, I can be accused, tried and convicted of ignoring problems in the hopes that they will just magically disappear. My warped reasoning is that if I don't acknowledge it, it doesn't exist. Which is what is happening now.
Halfway through to my next weigh in, and I have to admit to struggling. I did the juicing for the prescribed 7 days and on the 7th day, I rested and ate an order of garlic and cheese fries. After only juice all week, it probably wasn't the best food to re-introduce to my digestive tract. Even the book says to ease back into eating. But not me. No, for some strange reason, I think that those rules don't apply to me. The cast iron stomach that I had in my 20's has eroded into a rust bucket.
As to the struggle, I can't explain it. I want to lose weight. I want to take control. Funny, when I was juicing, I felt great. The difference for me was very noticeable. Now, I still juice, irregularly but I do it. Sometimes, I'm not feeling so well, so I juice as a quick pick me upper. It always works.
So, what's the problem? That's just it- I don't know. If juicing makes me feel great, why am I overloading on carbs? I truly don't know the answer to that one. Am I lazy? Am I trying to bury feelings and stress? Or maybe, I don't want to- maybe-just maybe, I want to eat those carbs. Or is it a combination of all of the above plus more? The thought that maybe deep down I really don't want to give up food is overwhelming and maybe more than I can bear. It just can't be. I don't want to be fat! It's not that I want to be thin/slim, I want to be at an optimum level of health for me. And boy do I know that I'm not there now.
My online writer friend, Keris, has a blog, 500 to 40 and by doing so has gently reminded me of the purpose of my own blog. I'm addicted to her blogs- check them out: http://dellasays.wordpress.com/ and http://500to40.wordpress.com/
I constantly refer to this as a struggle. And I'm a big believer in 'thoughts become things.' So perhaps, I'm setting myself up for failure with my thoughts. Or maybe, I just think too much.
I'm off the beaten track but don't worry, I'm clawing my way back.
It isn't until you begin to fight in your own cause that you become committed to winning.
Robin Morgan
Initially when I started this blog it was in an attempt to get control of my life and more specifically, my weight. As of late, I've blogged about everything else but what I've set out to do. I thought blogging would be kind of an aversion therapy by putting my demons out there in the public domain. Instead, I've realized how serious my avoidance issues are. In my life, I can be accused, tried and convicted of ignoring problems in the hopes that they will just magically disappear. My warped reasoning is that if I don't acknowledge it, it doesn't exist. Which is what is happening now.
Halfway through to my next weigh in, and I have to admit to struggling. I did the juicing for the prescribed 7 days and on the 7th day, I rested and ate an order of garlic and cheese fries. After only juice all week, it probably wasn't the best food to re-introduce to my digestive tract. Even the book says to ease back into eating. But not me. No, for some strange reason, I think that those rules don't apply to me. The cast iron stomach that I had in my 20's has eroded into a rust bucket.
As to the struggle, I can't explain it. I want to lose weight. I want to take control. Funny, when I was juicing, I felt great. The difference for me was very noticeable. Now, I still juice, irregularly but I do it. Sometimes, I'm not feeling so well, so I juice as a quick pick me upper. It always works.
So, what's the problem? That's just it- I don't know. If juicing makes me feel great, why am I overloading on carbs? I truly don't know the answer to that one. Am I lazy? Am I trying to bury feelings and stress? Or maybe, I don't want to- maybe-just maybe, I want to eat those carbs. Or is it a combination of all of the above plus more? The thought that maybe deep down I really don't want to give up food is overwhelming and maybe more than I can bear. It just can't be. I don't want to be fat! It's not that I want to be thin/slim, I want to be at an optimum level of health for me. And boy do I know that I'm not there now.
My online writer friend, Keris, has a blog, 500 to 40 and by doing so has gently reminded me of the purpose of my own blog. I'm addicted to her blogs- check them out: http://dellasays.wordpress.com/ and http://500to40.wordpress.com/
I constantly refer to this as a struggle. And I'm a big believer in 'thoughts become things.' So perhaps, I'm setting myself up for failure with my thoughts. Or maybe, I just think too much.
I'm off the beaten track but don't worry, I'm clawing my way back.
It isn't until you begin to fight in your own cause that you become committed to winning.
Robin Morgan
Friday, January 8, 2010
Cabin Fever
Ireland is in the middle of its longest cold snap since 1963. The temperature has dipped below freezing, the roads are covered in ice and there seems to be no break in the forecast.
As a former Buffalonian, I'm taking this one in stride. Like others, I've been stranded (blizzard of '85), my flight has been delayed (blizzard of 2001) and I've rolled over on many a morning after hearing Danny Neavereth on the radio announce that my school was closed. I love snow days- but that's for another blog.
Ireland, bless her heart, is not prepared for this. The big rain cloud that usually hovers over the island ran off for cover with the arrival of the Artic Blast. Stories abound of burst pipes and car accidents. I can handle the driving despite the fact that there is no such thing as all season radials.
What I can't handle is cabin fever. And I've got a bad case of it.
The boys were let out of school for Christmas break on Dec. 22nd. They were supposed to go back yesterday, Jan. 7th. Despite the visit by Santa, they're bored and I've become their number 1 playmate. Yesterday, I got a text telling me that school would reopen on Monday the 11th. Ok. Then tonight, Batt O'Keefe, the education minister, announced that all schools would remain closed until next Thurs the 14th.
It was at that point that I collapsed on the couch and stuck a knitting needle into the middle of my forehead. All I know is that there are a lot of days between now and next Thursday. I refuse to count them. I don't think I could handle it.
We've played every game, put together every toy and watched every DVD. They were outside yesterday for 30 minutes but they must have come in about 30 times.
"My gloves are wet."
"I don't want to wear a hat."
"My socks are wet."
"I have to go to the bathroom."
"What are you doing?"
"Can you fill the pail with water?"
"Can I eat the snow?"
"Can I come in? I'm cold."
We play swords. A lot. If I simply walk by Daniel, I get, "Hey, Mommy, you want to play swords?" What can I do? I've copped on and now manage to fight from a sitting position and I leave all the running and jumping to the boys. However, the 2 of them together are lethal and despite the fact that they're made of foam(the swords not the boys), I'm the one who usually ends up getting hurt. Michael swings his sword like a bat and I now have to wear the Snake Eyes helmet for protection. Although I must admit the black helmet with the pink, fluffy bathrobe is kind of snazzy.
I invited a few of their friends over for play dates but that deteriorated during one play date when my boys started fighting with each other. The kid yelled, "If you 2 don't stop fighting, I'm going home." This same kid also yelled, "Daniel, stop that shouting," when Daniel tried to impress him with his ninja moves.
It's amazing how the screaming and fighting escalate when I a) get on the phone, b) go to the bathroom and c) start taking my clothes off to get dressed.
If I stretch out on the couch, Daniel will tap me and say "Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy," about 400 hundred times until I open my eyes. Michael thinks that because my eyes are closed our faces need to be touching in order for me to know that he's there. Oh don't worry, my darling Michael, Mommy knows you're there.
We had a pajama day one day and now they think every day should be a pyjama day. If I didn't insist they get dressed, they'd still be wearing their pyjamas from Christmas.
Michael has gone through an industrial role of scotch tape and about 500 sheets of printer paper wrapping everything up to send to my mother. If I stand still long enough, he'll probably wrap me up.
Tonight, Daniel clunked by me, his gait unsteady, wearing a pair of roller skates. I like to think that maybe I was hallucinating.
Next Thursday, I don't care if there is 10 feet of snow outside and I have to walk barefoot with the 2 of them on my back. They ARE going back to school.
As a former Buffalonian, I'm taking this one in stride. Like others, I've been stranded (blizzard of '85), my flight has been delayed (blizzard of 2001) and I've rolled over on many a morning after hearing Danny Neavereth on the radio announce that my school was closed. I love snow days- but that's for another blog.
Ireland, bless her heart, is not prepared for this. The big rain cloud that usually hovers over the island ran off for cover with the arrival of the Artic Blast. Stories abound of burst pipes and car accidents. I can handle the driving despite the fact that there is no such thing as all season radials.
What I can't handle is cabin fever. And I've got a bad case of it.
The boys were let out of school for Christmas break on Dec. 22nd. They were supposed to go back yesterday, Jan. 7th. Despite the visit by Santa, they're bored and I've become their number 1 playmate. Yesterday, I got a text telling me that school would reopen on Monday the 11th. Ok. Then tonight, Batt O'Keefe, the education minister, announced that all schools would remain closed until next Thurs the 14th.
It was at that point that I collapsed on the couch and stuck a knitting needle into the middle of my forehead. All I know is that there are a lot of days between now and next Thursday. I refuse to count them. I don't think I could handle it.
We've played every game, put together every toy and watched every DVD. They were outside yesterday for 30 minutes but they must have come in about 30 times.
"My gloves are wet."
"I don't want to wear a hat."
"My socks are wet."
"I have to go to the bathroom."
"What are you doing?"
"Can you fill the pail with water?"
"Can I eat the snow?"
"Can I come in? I'm cold."
We play swords. A lot. If I simply walk by Daniel, I get, "Hey, Mommy, you want to play swords?" What can I do? I've copped on and now manage to fight from a sitting position and I leave all the running and jumping to the boys. However, the 2 of them together are lethal and despite the fact that they're made of foam(the swords not the boys), I'm the one who usually ends up getting hurt. Michael swings his sword like a bat and I now have to wear the Snake Eyes helmet for protection. Although I must admit the black helmet with the pink, fluffy bathrobe is kind of snazzy.
I invited a few of their friends over for play dates but that deteriorated during one play date when my boys started fighting with each other. The kid yelled, "If you 2 don't stop fighting, I'm going home." This same kid also yelled, "Daniel, stop that shouting," when Daniel tried to impress him with his ninja moves.
It's amazing how the screaming and fighting escalate when I a) get on the phone, b) go to the bathroom and c) start taking my clothes off to get dressed.
If I stretch out on the couch, Daniel will tap me and say "Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy," about 400 hundred times until I open my eyes. Michael thinks that because my eyes are closed our faces need to be touching in order for me to know that he's there. Oh don't worry, my darling Michael, Mommy knows you're there.
We had a pajama day one day and now they think every day should be a pyjama day. If I didn't insist they get dressed, they'd still be wearing their pyjamas from Christmas.
Michael has gone through an industrial role of scotch tape and about 500 sheets of printer paper wrapping everything up to send to my mother. If I stand still long enough, he'll probably wrap me up.
Tonight, Daniel clunked by me, his gait unsteady, wearing a pair of roller skates. I like to think that maybe I was hallucinating.
Next Thursday, I don't care if there is 10 feet of snow outside and I have to walk barefoot with the 2 of them on my back. They ARE going back to school.
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