Confessions of a (formerly) fat girl

So, I keep buying smaller and smaller sizes. I am currently sitting here in a size 10 pair of jeans and I'm thinking they are a little loose. And I'm thinking that I don't think I look fat sitting here. But then I see myself in a mirror and I still see myself 30 pounds ago. I can still see the lumpy bumpy mess that I was.  Rod tells me he keeps doing a double-take because he has to figure out who I am. So, I'm obviously looking good, so to speak. But, not to me. Not really.

I guess it takes a while to get past that fat girl block. When will I see the me in the mirror that others see?

"You are looking really good." (Thanks, I guess. I'm wearing Spanx.)
"You are wasting away." (Well, I still have plenty of fat to lose, you know?)

Do we ever see ourselves how we are after weight loss? Or do we always see ourselves how we were?  I guess these remain to be answered. For myself at least.

BTW, I am in my goal size(s) but I still have 15-20 pounds left to lose.

A Little Rant

Facebook is a great place. It's especially great if you are an introvert which is a whole other can of worms.

It's great that I can watch your kids grow up no matter how far you live from me. It's great that I can share your happy moments and your sad ones as if I were there.  

It's not great when you are the sort of person who only puts a vague statement about something and people have to draw it out of you.  Seriously.

"OH! My heart hurts!" What?? Are you having a heart attack? Call 911! Don't tell facebook. Well, never mind, your cat got hit by a car we find out 2 hours later. 

"I can finally breathe." Were you having an asthma attack? I just checked your last 5 days of posts and I have no indication otherwise.  What? Never mind, your car passed DEQ inspections.

This sort of adrenaline rush isn't good for anyone.  Just say what you need to say.  I have no idea whether your drama is drama worthy unless you just tell me because I don't have time to waste begging you spell it out.

Did a runaway bus load of children run over your dog and then careen down an embankment where they all died?  Or did you simply have a flat tire?  

We need conversations that go like this:
"My grandpa died."
"Oh? When was this? I had no idea. He was a really fun guy."
"Last week, I posted it on facebook."
"You did?"
"Yeah. I said my heart hurt."
"Oh. Well, you didn't say why it hurt so I just assumed you were having a heart attack. My dog was barking at the neighbors though, so I had to run out and get him in before the other neighbor called the sheriff again. Maybe next time you should just say what happened so I know it's important that I get back with you."

The Current Reading List

If you stumble across this blog every once in a while, you will know that I might have ADHD when it comes to books. You can count on me to have several books going at any given time.

So, the current list includes the following:

1. A Very British Family  This is a history of the (in)famous Trevelyan family. It's written by a Trevelyan, but it is the only book I could find.  It's slow going in this one, but it has led me to increase my TBR pile because now I want to read The Competition Wallah, which was written by one of the Trevelyans.

2. The Ninja Librarians is being read with the kids. It's slow. I like that this book takes place in a library.  I like that this book introduces some awfully clever words that the average middle schooler won't likely read otherwise. I hate that in the first 86 pages I have had to correct grammar.  There are awkward moments of humor that help ease the tedium. This book will be finished but only because of the principle of the matter and also...there's my Goodreads challenge that needs the numbers.

3. Israel is nearly complete. As a matter of fact, we will finish it tomorrow and move on to Afghanistan. As we have read through the books about the various Middle Eastern countries, I have found extreme agendas in promoting Islam. This book began with a seeming bias against Israel by oddly worded sentences that made Israel look like the aggressor in many cases where history shows Israel was attacked first.  However, as the book moved on, the wording changed and became a little more honest.  Yes, I realize Israel has done some things that have been aggressive; but not all the things were started by them. Honesty is good.

4. IA: Initiate is only just begun but there has been magic already.  Most notably, my inner reading voice became James Earl Jones-ish.  My inner reading voice is rarely male and never big like his. That was unique and cool. So far, the characters I've met are believable and quite possibly just like children I knew when I spent so many hours with kids in Gary, Indiana.  As a matter of fact, the young girl is most definitely pictured like one most adorable saucy child. This is quite readable and I'll possibly read it to the kids if I ever finish slogging through Ninja Librarians.

5. The Windcatcher has been slow. I started reading it last May.  The writing style is difficult for me, but this is a book I go to when I feel specific clarity mentally. It takes a few minutes to get into the proper mode and then I can go only a short distance.  I will finish this one but it may take a while. It isn't because it is uninteresting.  It is more that it doesn't match my style. I don't mind books like that.

6. The Korean Word for Butterfly is odd. I don't know if it's going to get any better, but I've read words like "groovy" and "cool cat." This is a book set in the 2000's. 

There may be others.  Well, there are always others. Catch-22 is languishing under my bed because the thought of the droning on makes me feel as though fingernails are being dragged down a blackboard. 

I have just completed The Mad Tinker's Daughter which I loved. It was my first foray into the steampunk genre and it was clever and it was fun. There is a good possibility that I will go on to the 2nd in the trilogy at some point.

My Heart Leaps Up when I Behold...

I decided to stop in at Barnes & Noble last night and just buy a journal to keep in my purse for those weird moments of strange inspiration that need to be written down so that I don't have to scrounge for an odd receipt anymore. It's actually quite cute and purple. Purple is important to me.  But as I wandered, I ran across a thing that made my heart leap up. No, it wasn't a rainbow in the sky. (I'm sorry Mr. Wordsworth.)  It was a notepad.  Yes, a notepad made my heart leap within me! I embrace my quirk. 

Okay, now do you see why? Wouldn't you be all giddy over this find?  No?  Well, as I said, I embrace my quirk. This notepad took me back to all sorts of times and places from pre-IR checkout. 

I remember how I loved looking over the library pocket cards to see how long it'd been since it was checked out. I enjoyed reading books that had been overlooked for a while. I enjoyed seeing the names of the previous borrowers and wondering how they'd responded to the book in question. And, oh! Was that the name of my current crush? Well, we'd have something to talk about, wouldn't we? I mean, if I actually talked to people outside my tiny circle.

In sixth grade, I got to volunteer in the library. It was wondrous. I got to stamp the cards after the names were signed. I got to file the cards in their proper order. It was divine. I got to put the cards back in when the books were returned and it was marvelous. 

So, seeing the notepad ignited nostalgia. In these days of quick-self checking, the stories of the pocket cards are gone.  I didn't realize I missed them until last night.

And the sign flashed out its warning...

The neon signs flashed their messages relentlessly through the pouring rain.  "Nails & Waxing" and "OPEN" beckoned her. There would be a phone there, she thought. Only, who would she call? Who would help her? In her moment of hesitation, the signs went dark. Her chance to do something different gone with the lights.

I guess that I need to carry a small notebook with me for these stupid little things that introduce themselves into my brain at odd moments.  Last night, Sarah and I sat in the van waiting for Rebecca to finish taekwondo.  The rain was dumping and Sarah mentioned that the signs were obnoxious. I looked up and watched them for a few moments.  They seemed to speak something else to me. I fished around my purse for paper and pen. The only paper to be found was a folded receipt. 

Does this moment qualify me for "writer"? No, I think I'm merely a dabbler.

Where the stories begin

Me: That house needs to be a story.

Rebecca: Why?

Me: Because it's run-down, only it's not really run-down. 

Rebecca: No, it's not really run-down. Why is it like that?

Me: I don't know. I think it's a family bit of land.

Rebecca: Where is this house's story?

Me: In southern Indiana, in the woodsy parts. Yeah, it's been in the family for generations and it's got so many happy memories that no one can bear to part with it. It's run-down because they don't have a lot of money to keep it up but they are doing the best they can. They sold off most of the land for the neighborhood that built up around it. I think. 

And this is how stories begin.

Flash Fiction

I love writing short, quirky stories that sort of drop you into the middle of something and then leave the rest unfinished.  I only recently learned that this is known as "flash fiction." My most recent bit was inspired by a random tweet that showed up in my twitter feed. So, for your enjoyment or time wasting or whatever you deem it to be when you finish, here it is. (There is a typo in it somewhere, but I can't remember where it was.)

(Inspired by a random tweet by @Marlebean)

I know so many people who met their soulmates at the dog park that it’s not even a realistic number anymore.  Well, that may be an exaggeration, but not by much.  Jodi met Darryl; Theo met Jessica. Honore’ met Justina and Chrissie met Justin. Friends, family, co-workers—yes, so many of them met at the dog park.

Then here I am. I have met exactly zero interesting people. I’ve had plenty that I thought could be interesting but none turned out to more than passing thoughts. Then I came up with the greatest of plans.

“Kellie, I’m going to start going to the dog parks,” I announced to my sister-turned-roommate one morning over coffee.

“What?” she responded dully. She wasn’t a morning person. She wasn’t exactly a person before, say, lunch.

“Everyone I know has met their soulmate at the dog park. I’m going to give it a shot.”

“You don’t have a dog.” She rubbed her face with both hands. Then she gave me the rolly-eyes.

“I don’t have to have a dog. I can get a leash and some doggy doo bags and go looking for my lost dog. Then when I meet someone that doesn’t fit the soulmate hole in my psyche, I just pretend my phone buzzed and it’s you telling me Zipper has returned.”

Kellie stood up, picked up her coffee mug, and shot me a withering glare. “We will discuss your stupidity at dinner, Kim.  I have to get ready for work.”

Truth be told, I had to get ready for work too. I didn’t pay too much attention to anything I was doing because I was planning my scheme. I got a ticket on the way to work because I neglected to yield right of way to a rather handsome officer. I stood at an out-of-order elevator for fifteen minutes while co-workers giggled at me. That cute security guard was on duty and he was nice enough to point it out to me. There is a distinct possibility that I neglected to respond promptly to emails as well. This became problematic when Dustin from accounts receivable came to my desk and hit me on the head with his rather well-chewed pencil. He’s kind of cute, too. He gets these dimples when he’s angry.

Anyway, five o’clock finally came and I really did attempt to be more cautious on my journey home. I will admit, though, that I rather hoped to run into that officer again. Well, not literally run in to, but more like wave to him at the next stoplight.

When Kellie and I sat down for dinner, I picked up my fork and eagerly began eating. She sat across the table and glared me.

“Do I have sauce on my chin?” I asked warily.

“You are an idiot, Kimmy. You are a certifiable idiot. Your plan is hatched from the brain of a moron.”

I stopped mid-chew and looked at her blankly for a moment. With a mouth half-full of spaghetti, I managed to garble out, “No, it’s genius really.”

“How so?” she demanded.

“Well, I’m going to dog parks looking for Zipper. He’s really good at running out an open door.”

“And what does Zipper look like?”

I hadn’t thought about that. I’d have to be more creative than just a name.

But she wasn’t finished with me yet.  “And how old is Zipper? And where did you get him? And how long have you had him? And who’s his vet?”

I was nonplussed. “Okay, Kel. It’s obvious I’ve never owned a dog before. In my life. That’s not my fault. I wanted a dog but you were allergic. So, I’ll have to put more thought into this before I act on it.”

She looked ready to scream. “And.” She threw a napkin at me.  “When you meet this soulmate you dream of and invite him home and there’s no sign of a dog anywhere?”

“I’ll just tell him Zipper got hit by a car.”