Details Not Required

This week, I reconnected with a college friend I'd lost contact with a few years after graduation. Tom was truly more like college family than college pal. Our senior year my roommate Melinda and I intentionally selected dorm rooms next to Tom and his roommate. My best description of dorm life that year was akin to Laverne & Shirley episodes. I can recall many occasions, a quick knock on my door, which would almost simultaneously open to reveal Tom (whom I'll refer to as "Lenny") and his roommate "Squiggy" stopping in to say "hi" or just to drive me crazy for a few minutes - silly moments that can still bring a smile to my face today.

Tom was known to barter Stella D'oro cookies for a strong cup of coffee during late night study sessions (I kept a rather well stocked dorm room, complete with coffee maker, hot plate, fridge & toaster oven). When we weren't busy studying (OK, I think only Tom really studied that much...), we often socialized in my room and shared lifes ups and downs together. Over time, we became more like brothers and sisters, which led to the occasional bickering and/or irritation with each other you would expect with family members living in close quarters, but I think we all enjoyed our college days thanks in great part to those close-knit bonds we created.

While alot of years have passed since we last communicated, my recent e-mails to and from Tom have been easy exchanges of everyday angst tinged with humor - just like our communications back in college - only filled now with more immediate details of our present lives. I was pleased to learn Tom is married and the proud, sleep-deprived father of 3 young children. We've shared a few updates on other mutual friends from our college days. In one of our early emails, Tom stumbled upon one one particular topic and my short response to his question was all it took for Tom to write me back the most poignant thing he's written me so far; "some things are OK to let go - door closed."

That's how you know you've re-connected with a true friend - someone who doesn't need to ask about the details - because they somehow already know what's been left unsaid. And that's the kind of friend you welcome back into your life with open heart and open arms.

Setting Goals - Reflection

I've been reading a book by Charles Stuart Platkin, the "Diet Detective," hoping to find the right spark of motivation to embark on my next big goal - losing weight. I've been carrying around alot of extra pounds and they weigh quite heavily on me (pun intended). In my 20's, weight loss was all about how you looked. In my 40's, it's all about health concerns. Don't get me wrong, I still want to look good, but the focus shifts to concerns about swollen ankles, trouble breathing, even premature death.

I took my healthy body for granted as a kid and abused it. I didn't exercise regularly. I had very unhealthy eating habits (my Mom often says if it were not for peanut butter and jelly, I wouldn't have survived) and an incredible sweet tooth. Weight became a concern in my teens, so I switched to diet soda's and other unhealthy habits. I will even admit, I tried to purge on more than one occasion after binging on junk food, but never could get the vomiting habit going - and my weight reflected that. Moving away to college helped - I fell in love and found institutinal cafeteria food rather revolting - stuck on campus with little cash, I ate only when hungry and walked everywhere. I lost a quick 25 pounds the first few months of my freshman year.

I stayed at what I consider a rather healthy weight until my senior year - when I started packing on the pounds. I wasn't sure what caused the weight gain, but stressful life changes - like looking for work after 4 years of enjoying college dorm life, moving in with my parents (something I thought I'd never do again when I left 4 years earlier) and the demise of relationship with my first love probably all had a significant impact on me. The weight gain has gradually climbed ever since. Oh, there were a few moments here and there, when I was able to knock of 10 or 20 pounds with whatever diet fad I was on. But, my extra pounds seemed stuck to me like glue.

My weight loss attempts included the yeast free diet (in combination with the blood type diet), weight watchers, nutrisystem and even a doctor supervised modified fast that was guaranteed to give me a great start on weight loss. None of these attempts provided any lasting weight gain and over the course of time, have led me to fear trying again... I did have a few wonderful sessions with a nutritionist a few years back - although they turned out to be more like therapy sessions for me! I took away some solid tools about healthy eating and exercise that, if used properly, can be great guidelines to keep a body on track. But, what I also found out about me, I was full of reasons why I couldn't succeed.

I've watched other family members and friends achieve incredible health and fitness goals, simply by putting one foot in front of the other. None of these successes were achieved over night, but they've all managed to maintain their healthy physiques by continuing with making the right kind of choices when it comes to diet and exercise.

So, now, rather than sitting on the sidelines, cheering on others, I hope to become one of them... the achievers. Those who succeed, because they choose to take responsibility for their bodies and what they do with them.

I have set what I believe is a realistic goal for me - 20 pounds in 10 months, combined with increased exercise, increased social activities and cutting back on the sweets I still subject my on my body. Following the instructions in the book, I have designed a game plan and have my contingency plans (excuse busters and plan B's) laid out - which includes journaling about my goals and my feelings during this lifestyle change. I'll be in touch with an update soon.

September 11th

September 11th... 8 years later and I still fight back the tears. This year, I am finding it easier to avoid watching news coverage of those awful scenes still fresh in my mind and that's fine with me. I don't need to watch those horrific moments captured on tape to remember. But it seems impossible to keep my emotions from getting the best of me on this day. I wonder if that will ever change in my lifetime.

I think of my friends still living and working in NYC. I wonder how they are holding up. I send emails to those I know will find comfort in receicing a message from me, letting them know I am thinking of them and remembering, too.

I remember the clearest skies. I remember the smoky dust rising. I remember the panicked phone calls. I remember walking on NYC streets sprayed with water to keep the dust down. I remember the overwhelming sense of loss I felt passing groups of "missing" flyers posted by loved ones on any flat surface they could find. I remember standing in line for 7 hours on that very day waiting to donate a pint of blood, just to feel like I was doing something to help. I remember and I let the tears fall.

Coming Clean

So, it's just after my extended deadline for a clutter free home promised to myself in an earlier blog session... Labor Day weekend has come and gone and while I cannot write with a clear conscience that my home officepurge is complete, I can write that I'm the closest I've ever been to having closets, cabinets and drawers all organized working space, instead of the places you hide your clutter behind.

For years, she posted a comic clipped from a newspaper dealing with clutter - if memory serves, from Family Circus. It showed a couple standing in front of a messy basement with a caption suggesting they should really do something about the mess. The last frame shows the closet door being closed with a caption that read something like "how's that?" I think that is how I've been dealing with my life's clutter - in fact, I've joked with my neighbor Carrie that I should get decorate with all lucite furniture, so I would no longer be able to store shameful mess hidden behind closet and cabinet doors. While I'm not completely cured from clutter (there are a few lingering spots that require my attention still and a few places I've let slide back to my old ways) my house in most definitely showing signs of organization.

Last night, a my friend Terra stopped by meet my new kitten and pick something up. She arrived about 10 minutes after I got home from work. There was no time to straighten up the house before she arrived. I gave her a quick tour of my place, since it was her first time there. And, for the first time in I can't tell you how long, I was comfortable showing someone around my home and not apologizing cluttered rooms. It wasn't spotless, there were things lying around in a few rooms, but I hadn't needed to throw things behind closet doors in a frenzied rush when I arrived home, or closed doors to certain rooms (like my until recently dreaded home office) to avoid them being seen. I was pleased with myself for having reached a stage of organized where I wasn't offering up excuses for myself. I felt good. Really good.

So, now my new goal - by year end - is to have all the little spots [my coat closet, linen closet and office file drawer to name a few] that still require some work before they're "show ready" completely organized and streamlined. I want to feel that feeling and keep feeling it every time I re-enter my home. It's a lofty goal for me, I'll admit. But, goals are great things to have in life. And this is a goal I used to think was something I could never attain. I used to wish I could be more like people I know who live in tidy, organized spaces. Now, I see that I can be that person and I'm working to make it happen.

Welcome Sasha!

On Saturday, August 15th, I brought Sasha home. Adopting Sasha was the easy part, but getting to that point was some five years in the making.

Just before relocating to Arizona, my cat, Cato, developed a devastating illness that eventually took his life. It was an amazingly stressful time. I had just decided to leave behind the life I'd known and was all wrapped up in finding an apartment, hiring a mover and packing up my belongings for the upcoming move across country. Cato's illness took me by surprise. It also created some pretty tremendous feelings of guilt that my decision to move had somehow caused or facilitated Cato's illness. After Cato was euthanized, I had him cremated and planned to bury his ashes in my parent's back yard (the customary place we planted our childhood pets lost to cars or natural causes) before I moved. However, after getting his ashes, I found I didn't like the idea of leaving Cato behind. So, his ashes moved with me. We made the journey together to Arizona.

I was so sure I'd never be emotionally strong enough to have another pet again, since I never wanted to live through another devastating illness and loss again. It took me over a year before I could even talk about Cato without crying. My sister was so sure I would get another pet within a year after my move, but it's been almost 6 years.

Time is truly a great healer. Perhaps it was the influence of spending so much time with my neighbor and her brood of 4 cats. It started innocently enough. I found myself searching sites for kittens and cats available for adoption. I even made a few trips to local animal shelters. But, each time I walked away empty handed. I kept telling myself that when it was my cat, I'd know. And, I was right. On Tuesday, August 11th, I saw a photo of Sasha. She was exactly what I wanted - a Siamese mix kitten with something in her face that I can't describe, but my heart instantly recognized. I emailed the poster inquiring on her availability and made arrangements to meet her in person on Saturday. I arrived early (2 hours early to be exact) with my borrowed pet carrier (Thanks, Carrie!) and entertained myself while waiting for the adoption organization to arrive. The minute I took her out of the carrier she arrived in, I knew she was going home with me. She clung to me, as I wandered through the store, picking up the essentials; food, cat litter and a litter box. I brought her home and spent an anxious day and night waiting for my little girl to acclimate to home. By Sunday morning, the quiet and clinging kitten was up and about and running around my home - giving me cause to question my sanity - but only briefly.

It's been just about 3 weeks since Sasha entered my life and I haven't regretted adopting her for a minute. She's so different than Cato, but then that's what I wanted. She fits smoothly and easily into my life.

I do believe that our surroundings often reflect our inner turmoil. I know my years with Cato were filled with angst, fear and insecurity - Cato's own personality mirrored my unsettled inner self and he was not an easy animal to live with. Cato was nervous, anxious around others and didn't welcome change - and he wasn't afraid to bite the hand that fed him. I wasn't feeling very positive in those days and while Cato was a loving pet to me, he was an animal easily stressed.

Sasha, well, she's a different personality all together, she's sweet and quiet, but is full of energy, too. She seems comfortable in her surroundings and gets more and more inquisitive about her environment every day. I hope this reflects my own more balanced and positive state of being. I look forward to spending many years of peaceful companionship with Sasha, along with a few manic moments thrown in for fun!