Day Nine: Good Bye Elementary School, Hello Junior High!

Hard to believe it's Day Nine, already.  In all honesty, this has been pretty darn easy.  Incidentally, the hardest part has been remembering to write in this blog.  Thankfully it doesn't have to be every day.  Even more importantly, and just as thankfully, it doesn't have to be interesting, either.  Whew!  Yesterday was the last day of my mini vacation, or vacay, as some like to call it.  I don't call it that.  If I did, I would immediately follow it up with the gouging out of my own eyes.  Don't even get me started with "totes".  I absolutely can't stand it.  Fo' reals.

  

I  slept in a bit, read for awhile, and framed the M-22 poster I bought in Traverse City (more on this fascinating subject, later).  Overall, it was a pretty relaxing day.  Later that evening, I headed to the boy's elementary school for their 6th grade graduation.  I knew I would enjoy it, that I wouldn't miss it for the world, but I had no idea it would affect me as much as it did.  The majority of the program was a musical performance where the kids sang a few of their favorite songs from past concerts.  I love to watch the boys awkwardly move to the choreographed dances, all knees and elbows, mumbling and stumbling through the words as they do their best to remember them.  A little uncomfortable and a bit afraid to really enjoy themselves.  Ah, the joys of being prepubescent.  Unique in the way they express themselves, but alike in the way they melt my heart.  6th grade!  How did this happen?  I hate to sound cliche, but it truly does seem like such a bitter-sweet short time ago that I held them in my arms for the first time, all at once understanding what "love at first sight" really meant.  And I did.  I absolutely loved them the minute I set eyes on them.  So tiny, sweet, and innocent; and so very perfect.  It's no secret that I wanted to be a mother more than anything in the world.  Sure, I'll play along and agree that it still could happen, but it's doubtful.  Looking at my niece and nephews (one girl and five boys), I think God knew.  I think he always knew.  It's the only way to explain how I could get this lucky.  I love them all as much as a person possibly can, without being their mother.  They are the center of my universe.  And somehow, they seem to really love me back.  Being "Auntie" is truly one of the greatest, if not the greatest joys in my life.  Oh, the hugs and giggles and conversations; the sleepovers and movie nights.  All of it.  Every little bit of it.  God had to know.  That's why he filled my life up with so much love from all these little ones (some not so little, anymore).  He was making up for it.  And I'm so very grateful.  My cup of love runneth over.

I sat there listening, waiting to hear their name called to come up and receive their certificate, and all at once, out of nowhere, it hit me.  6th grade?  Next year Junior High??  Was it all going to end?!?!  NO!  I'm not ready!  What if I haven't been a good enough Auntie?  I need time to make up for it!  I need more time to play with them and really listen to them and to really make it about them.  I can't give up my snuggling on the couch, the sweet hugs that I am already having to squeeze out of them, and their wanting to come over to Auntie's house to play video games and The Bermuda Triangle. The last time they came over they wanted to play The Bermuda Triangle, but I said No.  I should have said Yes!  How will I ever be able to accept it and let it go?  There isn't much choice, I know.  It is what it is and it will be what it will be.  Even though Bubba assured me last night on the drive over to the restaurant (he wanted to ride with Auntie, in her car) that even when he's 17, he will still want to cuddle with me, it's going to happen.  Hell, it's happened before with my niece and her brother, and it's been beyond hard.  I know it has to change and I know I can't fight it.  "Complete acceptance of what is", as Eckhart says.  How do I accept it?  Relax.  Be present in every single moment, and cherish my time with them.  Life is short, yes, but it's also very, very long.  There are many a summer days ahead.  Plenty of time to play.  Plenty of time to still be "Auntie".  Sitting in the restaurant after the ceremony, that's just what we did.  We laughed and told stories, made silly faces and took pictures, and simply just enjoyed one another.  

Day Seven: Traverse City, Here We Come!

A portion of the confusing mass.

A much needed vacation!  The sun, swimming, a catamaran, relaxation, good food - and good times with good people.  Happy sigh.  I was pretty tired when I woke up Friday morning.  11:00 pm the night before, I was standing amidst a confusing mass of potential outfits, wondering what I should iron first.  Pretty typical for me.  Despite the tiredness, however, I was super excited; and not a bit nervous or worried about whether or not it would be difficult to resist a drink, or whether or not the trip would still be fun without one.  Or some.  If a difficult moment comes up, I thought, I'll deal with it then.

After an easy, relaxing, and fun drive up, filled with some excellent tunes and good conversation, our first stop was Leland, Michigan.  "Reelin' Leland", to be exact.  I love Reelin' Leland.  Surrounded by water, and full of cute little shops and restaurants; it's an adorable tiny fish town.  The Village Cheese Shanty is one of their many cute little restaurants and it is home to the infamous vegetarian sandwich called the "Fish Town" - one of the most scrumptious sandwiches I have ever consumed.  Green Peppers, onion, spinach, cucumbers, olive spread (yes, I said olive spread), tomatoes, dill havarti (um, hello, DILL havarti), and guacamole.  And, (this is the clincher, folks), all of this on pretzel bread (and...she swoons).

Reelin' Leland!

I first had the "Fish Town" when Melanie and I were in Leland, two years ago.  The second time around, it didn't let me down.  It was just as scrumptious as it was the first time.  Deja-delicious-vu!  I would have shared a picture of said sandwich, but the only picture I have, I took with my iPhone, and well, rules are rules.  We shopped around a bit, then we headed to The Cove so Sherri and Andrea could sample what I had said was an excellent Bloody Mary.  Per the bartender's suggestion, they both tried the horseradish vodka.  Out of curiosity (I love horseradish) I took a sip and, lo and behold, it tasted just like horseradish.  Tasty!  We sat by river on the patio while they enjoyed their Bloody Mary's and planned out the rest of our day.  After shopping at the mall for a bit, checking into the hotel, hanging out by the pool (a heated pool - 85 degrees!) and the hot tub for awhile, we gussied ourselves up and headed to downtown Traverse City to find a place for dinner.

After some very tasty Mexican food, we ended up at Union Street Station for the rest of the night.  There was a blues-y band playing and they were quite good.  Andrea met the band and they seemed like a really nice group of guys, too.  They even played a Beetles song, just for her!  How sweet.  We danced, tried to talk as best we could over the music, and took some silly pictures.  To say "to my surprise" would make sense, here - but, I can't say that; because, to be honest, I really wasn't all that surprised - I had a great time and didn't crave a drink, at all.  I didn't even feel uncomfortable or self-conscious that I wasn't drinking.  I just sat back, relaxed, enjoyed the music, and took it all in.  I love to people watch and there was something pretty amazing about just sitting and watching everyone around me - engrossed in conversations, laughing or flirting or baring their souls, and dancing.  Oh, the dancing!  One woman in particular (and there is no way I could ever do it justice by simply explaining it here, on this blog) - boy did she have some moves on her.  I think I would call it the - "oops-I-just-dropped-something-let-me-pick-it-up-didn't-quite-get-it-let-me-bend-down-again-I'm-going-to-turn-in-a-circle-that-way-then-back-in-a-circle-this-way-and-then-throw-my-arms-up-in-the air-for-no-reason-and-oops-I-just-dropped-something-again" - dance.  Yes, I think that about sums it up.  Aside from the fact that her dance was adorabl-y funny to watch, she was just too sweet and I loved her.  Eyes closed, her head tilted back as she drank the music in, with not a care in the world as to who was watching; she was perfect.  And all without a drink in her hand.  I have felt that way - dancing and not caring who was watching - but usually when I've been drinking.  Of course I've had plenty of moments throughout my life where I've felt that way without alcohol, but it's been awhile.  There was a group of youngin's sitting near us and, one girl in particular, (disturbingly tan, dark brown hair, wearing all black; so all one could see in the darkness of the bar was the white of her eyes and her toothy grin) was laughing at her, off and on, throughout the night.  That's okay.  When you're young and awkward, it's quite easy to view a carefree individual, especially an adult, as a weirdo.  I took my cue from the "weirdo", however, got up and shook my booty - shook it like I meant it (Shake it, shake it, shake it like you mean it - this is an inside joke that I had to get out of my system.  Continuing on, now...) and I had forgotten just how good that feels  - to be high on life without the buzz of alcohol.  There was something about letting go, but still with control to avoid waking up the next morning wondering if there was just a bit too much shake in my booty, that felt so damn good.  I realized that this idea of control is a double-edged sword, a catch 22.  Yes, there is something appealing about giving up all control and completely letting go.  I know that temptation.  But along with it, and too often for me, comes a feeling of guilt or shame that perhaps I was a bit too free and sent the wrong message or acted in a way that I wasn't proud of, that giving up all control allows or lends itself to, that makes it not quite worth it, in the end.  Knowing that I was in control of my own behavior was a truly empowering feeling; one that for me, at this point in my life, was much more appealing.  And to wake up the next morning without even a hint of those feelings of guilt or shame or regret, or even questioning lingering in my thoughts?  It was a good, good night.  And a whole heck of a lot of fun. 

Day Four: What it's Really Like to Paint your Toes

Melanie and I.
Approximately 26 years
of friendship and counting!

Whose idea was it to post every day for thirty days?!  Oy.  Thankfully, hardly anyone is reading these posts, if anyone at all, so I don't have to worry too much about being witty or clever or incredibly interesting.  Thirty days in the life of Lori Jean.  Meh.  Well, at least I find it interesting and it makes me happy.  That's all that matters.  Yesterday was a good day and last night was a good night.  I got a great deal done at work and that felt fantastic.  I strongly dislike leaving for a trip knowing there is shit on my desk that should have gotten done.  On the way home from work, I returned the book on CD I had checked out for Mom and Dad (with a late fee that only totaled 20 cents - for me, this is a miracle).  After I got home, I gave the kitties their treats, fed the fish, and headed out for another satisfying run/walk.  Melanie came over shortly after that.  After we talked for a bit, and she suffered through me modeling the clothes I bought for the trip (I've always admired and valued her honesty - blunt, but never hurtful), we painted our toes and watched Delivery Man with Vince Vaughn.  I opted for a light, bright fuchsia pink that will go nicely with my new swimming suit, and Melanie chose one of my favorites, "Cute as a Button".  Fascinating, right?  Of course it is!  Freshly painted toes is essential to preparing for a vacation.

 

I've also included a picture of our supplies, or tools, if you will.  I think it is an excellent picture.  Okay, I am lying.  I think it's an absolutely atrocious picture.  But I'm including it, anyway.  Why?  Well, because that's what they looked like.  They weren't lightly brushed with a cool vintage or retro wash.  They weren't perfectly aligned or asymmetrical as the sun softly illuminated them.  They were just sitting there, looking just like they do in the picture.  Just like the picture of Melanie and I, above.  That's what we looked like sitting on the couch laughing and talking, enjoying one another's company.  I think we look pretty darn cute, by the way; but, I digress.  I love pictures.  I love taking them, editing them, applying Photoshop actions, cropping them, and especially, getting them just right.  I would say I am pretty good at it.  I can get a little carried away, however, with the "getting them just right" part.  I made the decision that for this blog I would only post pictures I had taken with my new Fujifilm Instax Mini 8 Instant Film Camera.  When I snap a shot with the Instax I get exactly what I see when I look through the lens.  I get what the moment really looked like, not the way I want it to look or the way I think others will appreciate or approve of; just like removing alcohol from the picture allows me to experience what life is really like without the buzzy haze.  No more taking forty pictures to get the perfect "selfie" (ugh - I cringe every time I hear that word.  It's almost as bad as "kudos" and "pic" - the list goes on and on.).  No spending hours editing and cropping.  I think this is going to be good for me. 



Day Three: Everything Will Change

Them's my runnin' shoes...

Well, at least anything can change.  Just got back from a run/walk.  I have signed up for a 5K on June 20th.  I'd like to run the whole thing, but I'm not sure if that's going to happen.  I've been using a training app, but haven't been keeping up with it as much as I should.  It is a seven week program and I am on week three.  Needless to say, the 5K isn't four weeks away.  I'm behind.  But, at least I am doing it.  I have always been a walker.  I would occasionally entertain the notion of picking up running, but would usually squelch that immediately with reasons (or excuses, I know) such as, my knees were too weak, or I got out of breath too quickly.  Around this time last summer, however, I suddenly thought "Who says I can't run?".  Well me, I said I couldn't run.  Exactly.  So I decided to give it a try.  I started with just running as I crossed driveways or street corners, then gradually started to run for a bit, then walk, run, then walk.  I was pretty surprised at how quickly it got a little easier.  I was even starting to enjoy it;  but would never run a whole mile.  Hell no.  I would always stop to walk, off and on.  One fine day, however, I went on a walk with my friend Kayla.  I told her I was enjoying the running, but could never run a mile without stopping.  She bet me I could and suggested we give it a try.  Off we went.  I wanted to stop many, many, many times, but I didn't.  Just as we approached the homestretch I told her I had to quit, that I was okay with it, but I just couldn't run a centimeter further.  Just as we stopped, my Map My Walk app chirped "Total distance, one mile."  I did it!  I couldn't believe it.  I really didn't think I had it in me.  I was a walker!  But that changed.  Now, even though I certainly wouldn't consider myself a runner, and I haven't run a full mile without stopping to walk, yet; I always walk and run.  Every time.  Even when I am not preparing for a 5K.

Today, with the cool breeze in my hair and the sun on my back, I felt fantastic.  My robotic trainer, far too chipper, if you ask me, would order me to "Run!" and I was glad to do it.  I actually caught myself smiling and eventually thinking "Wait, why don't I do this every day?".  Well, sitting on the couch and relaxing with a good book or a movie feels pretty damn good, too.  And I work forty hours a week.  And there are other things I enjoy.  Reasons, excuses, whatever they may be, it's that feeling I had today that stops me from turning into a couch potato.  I can slack, I can go through lazy spells, but I always come right back to it because it just feels too good not to.  As I was running, soaking all the good feelings in, one of Gavin DeGraw's songs came on:

Everything will change
Hey, I feel it coming on
Starting like a fire, tonight you lit the flame
Now everything will change

I couldn't help but think about my 30 day challenge.  Me, my potential, who I want to be,

me at my best and fullest self - it's as if it has been right there waiting for me; waiting for me to light the flame and start a fire full of burnin' hot change. I think I'm ready for it.

Day Two: Mostly an Incredibly Exciting and Intersting Post about a Tasty Salad

The "Solid Mess"

It was a good weekend; a very long weekend filled mostly with helping my sister and her husband de-clutter, organize, clean, rearrange, and paint, shopping for my trip next weekend, and shopping for my groceries this week.  I finally arrived at home - tired, with a full heart and an empty stomach.  I was ready to make some dinner.  As I am going on a little trip next weekend with my sister, Sherri and our friend, Andrea, I've decided to keep it healthy until I go so I can splurge on delicious food and treats while on the trip.  That being said, I decided on a tasty salad.  After I made a solid mess, which I am quite good at, the tasty salad turned out to be very tasty, indeed!

The "Tasty Salad"

Salmon, spinach, gouda, red onion, pecans, avocados, and a homemade yogurt-honey-lemon dressing. I am still not entirely sure about the salad dressing.  I think it might have to grow on me.  I have a favorite dressing that I often make (honey-mustard-ginger.  Mmm...) and it is so good that all new creations must be compared to it.  I love making homemade salad dressings.  I only wish I did it more often.  Drinking a beer makes me crave Mexican food and drinking wine makes me crave pizza.  I guess it isn't a surprise that the more I drink, the less I cook.  Thankfully, there are plenty of homemade meals in my immediate, 30 day future.

Interestingly, I didn't crave alcohol much this weekend.  I was around it, thought about it, passed by it at the store, but I didn't really crave it.  Being that I spent most of the weekend at my sister's, helping with the house, I wasn't in a situation that really warranted drinking.  Under normal circumstances, however, that's what I would have been doing.  I certainly wouldn't have gotten drunk, by any means, but being in and out of the sun, carrying boxes and moving furniture around, etc. - an ice cold beer would have really hit the spot.  It was nice to spend time with the boys and not have to wake up the next day wishing I hadn't been drinking around them and, if I had been buzzed, wondering if it showed.  It was really, really nice.

So far, I think I'm off to a good start.

Day One: Wish me luck!

This is what my morning looked like:  a hot cup of coffee, some tasty waffles, an excellent book, and the gloriously beautiful sun.  Needless to say, it was a gorgeous day; and, as usual I was feeling pretty fantastic - relaxed, peaceful, thankful, and at ease.  All without a lick of alcohol in my body.  Too often, and for some odd reason, more often on a beautiful day, such as this, when I am feeling so good; at some point I would decide I needed a drink.  Why?  Because I needed something more?  Something bigger and better?  What could be bigger and better than sitting on your balcony reading a good book and drinking coffee while the sun fills the bright blue sky with its orangey warmth and the birds chirp "Yippee!"?   I can think of reasons, excuses really, but they're irrelevant.  Today is different.  No drink today.  What would it have been?  Likely, an Oberon.  Over the past few years, I have become a beer drinker.  A connoisseur, if you will, or a snob, if you prefer.  Exploring all the various IPAs, pale ales, stouts, and delicious choices has become a favorite pastime of mine.  Why an Oberon?  What better choice on a sunny day, like today?  It's quite possibly the perfect drink to sip in the sun.  So why not today?  Because I am giving it up for 30 days and, quite possibly, for good.  We will have to wait and see.  The reason?  I want to see what life is like without alcohol.  I know what moments are like, and even nights, but I certainly can't say I know what weekends or weeks are like, or vacations or holidays - and certainly not life.  I'm not judging myself.  Believe me, I know that I'm probably considered to be a "normal drinker" by most of society's standards; and my friends and family certainly don't think I have a drinking problem, but what does that matter, really?  If I , too often, wonder if I am drinking too much, and wish I didn't, and regret that I did, and try not to, and work hard to cut back, and just feel so damn tired from thinking about it, what does it matter if others don't think I need to quit?  It's what I feel and think that matters. It's my thoughts and my feelings and my life; my life that I want to change.

Alcohol; being buzzed, feeling a bit "drinky", cutting loose and feeling what we think is relaxed and free and brave and without responsibility - well, it feels pretty fucking fantastic.  But for me, and especially more and more lately, it feels false and separate and distant and closed-off and frankly, I'm getting rather tired of it.  I don't feel more social (a fairly common reason to drink) and more connected to others when I've been drinking; I feel my world gets smaller and I can't see much past the slightly buzzed and exhilarating conversation about who-knows-what I'm having with the person next to me.  Sure, what harm does it do if it's only now and again? What is wrong with letting go and forgetting about my responsibilities and problems, if it's only one night?  I certainly can't argue that point, except to say "What if that one night turns into two? And then turns into every weekend? Then hell, why not one or two every night?" I am not ashamed to say (although I can't lie, but it sure would be nice to bury my head in the sand, but I can't. I've never been too good at that. The truth has always been something I can't deny. I seek it out, must have it, and feel false and hollow, without it) I'm fairly certain I can't do it in moderation.  I just can't seem to do it every once in a while. It's an all or nothing thing with me, it seems, and I just can't do all, anymore.  

When I am buzzed or drunk, I am in a haze, not really present, and I just can't let my life go by while I stand and watch, slightly disconnected, a shadow of myself.  In my defense, I have to say most of my life is lived in a rather blissful state where I feel thankful and present and very aware of all that's going on around me.  I appreciate my friends and family, and my job; the cats, the fish, my apartment, the trees and sky and birds, all the wonderful things that make my world a beautiful place.  I work 40 hours a week at a job that I like and get along well with my coworkers. I enjoy going for walks, yoga, singing and playing the guitar, eating healthy and doing my best to get some exercise.  I love camping, swimming, riding my bike, and spending precious time with my family and friends.  I spend most of my life present and sober. Too often, however, I make the choice to make alcohol a part of it when it simply doesn't need to be.  I want to know what life is like without alcohol. I want to know what I am like, at social gatherings or unwinding on the couch at night, without a drink in my hand.  So, all that being said, I am going on a little journey.  I don't know where I'm headed, or what the end will look like, I'm a little bit scared and a little excited, but I'm going to give it my best shot.  Wish me luck!