As the sun sets on Day 5 of the Whole30 this is where I am at. I have left the happy diet behind and I’m still happy. So far I’m fairly unscathed which doesn’t make great fodder for a blog. But seriously in 5 days ….not one peach green tea lemonade. Not one bag of BBQ chips from Starbucks. No hot tomales. Truly folks I was eating those things at least once daily (she says with embarrassment). I survived the movie on Friday with NO popcorn. Went to a potluck yesterday and said no to fresh baked buns (right out of the oven). The heavenly aroma was all I enjoyed. Also no to the whip creamy chocolately cakey dessert. Peeps! This is huge. And I’m saving lots of money at Starbucks as I don’t go everyday and when I do,  I drink unsweetened tea. It’s cheap. It should be it’s basically hot water that smells good. I have 6 free drinks at Starbucks but I’m saving them for the expensive real beverages when I am done Whole 30. However, I am hoping that I will no longer like or crave those sickeningly sweet drinks like I used to.

Im thinking maybe I wasn’t actually addicted to the things above after all, I was just making poor choices out of apathy. Because I really do NOT want to kill anyone or bite their head off (at the moment) because I am so deprived and going through withdrawal symptoms. I’m not even thinking about my favorite things (except when I write about them). I feel my discipline, self control and dignity have returned.

Here is what I do feel. I feel empowered. No one is holding a gun to my head or blackmailing me into doing this program. It’s a choice I made on my own for my own health and benefit. If I cheat or find ways around the rules I am the one who has lost. I certainly don’t win. And although I’m only 1/6 of the way there I already feel better. I know, hard to believe. The book said you would feel worse before you feel better which proves you can’t believe everything you read.

Its really  amazing how good you can feel about yourself by making wise choices and carrying them through. You start to trust yourself again and believe in yourself.

Upon reflection I think I was just SO ready for this. After a year of steady weight gain and depression and apathy and general malaise I was more than ready to do something positive to improve my health and well being. I had to do something different. I had to do something! And although I may still look like the same old couch potatoe I was last week I am changing from the inside out. I’ve put myself on a morning power walking regime as well and even that is self affirming.

I don’t know what lies ahead in the 25 days to come but today, in this moment, I am grateful I made this choice because it’s already changing my life and I desperately needed a change.

Viva la Whole 30.

 

 

Well let’s move on from birthday celebrations to health preparations. (It will be a little difficult because it’s my husbands birthday today and that includes Mississippi mud and wings). But this week, in fact on June 8, I will embark on the Whole30 journey. What, pray tell, is Whole30?? Well I can tell you what’s its not. Its not just another fad diet, believe you me. (Because no one starts a fad diet on a Thursday). It’s  not to be entered into lightly ( I am entering it heavy) or without preparation. It’s not a weight loss program although I’m positive if you are heavier than you should be, you will most likely shed a few pounds of condemning baggage as you eat nothing but whole foods for 30 days. I’m counting on it. It’s a reset journey. It’s like the Betty Ford clinic for people with food addictions … like me. Addicted to sugar (hot tomales and peach green tea lemonade) and Kettle cooked BBQ chips. I was reading the ‘what to expect timeline’ yesterday and it mentions that you will probably feel worse before you feel better…. that would be the withdrawal symptoms. I’ll probably have to be chained to my bed soaked in my own sweat to keep me from running to Starbucks and Sobeys and Shoppers with no make up on and frightening hair to get my fixes. Now that’s a pretty thought.  But I do have an accountability partner that has already passed the test to keep me on the straight and narrow.

I’m almost finished the prep reading and getting ready to make the allowable sauces and condiments and shop for groceries. If I’m shopping correctly I should bring absolutely nothing home in a box, can, a cellopac or a bag or a bottle. Well my nuts and Perrier may come in such containers but that’s it. Eggs also come in containers. Can you imagine if you were expected to put eggs in groceries bags just the way they were? That would be tricky and messy.  Let’s imagine that they are all just sitting in a huge refrigerated bin. There would probably be all sorts off eggs broken and sticky yolks everywhere. Submerging your hand in there could be horrifying.  You’d need counselling for years. . I’m glad they are packaged in egg cartons. Swell idea. I digress….

The object of this reset process is to break your cravings for fake food with addictive stimulants and reset your digestive system (heal your gut) so your immune system starts firing on all pistons. Making you healthier and stronger and eventually slimmer. I definitely need that. I lost 25 pounds by joining a popular weight loss organization 3 years ago but I’m sad to report that I’ve gained it all back as I didn’t quit eating fake food with addictive stimulants, I just ate less of it and lost weight and reverted back to my old habits because, let’s face it, I was still addicted. Hadn’t really learned a thing except ‘eat less food temporarily lose weight temporarily’.

My top priority is health this time around. If weight loss happens that will be a bonus. From all the reading I have done lately though, I know once I heal the gut aka digestive processes I WILL lose the weight I need to lose and I will feel great. I’m actually quite looking forward to the Whole thing (pun intended). I also know I will spend a lot of time in the kitchen preparing whole food but that will not be a problem for me as the kitchen is my laboratory, my studio, my joy and I’m unemployed for the moment so I have the time. And I don’t have to starve to death. I can eat all the food I want from all the other trees in the garden, I just can’t eat anything off the forbidden tree. I mean that’s how we got in this mess in the first place isn’t it?

Recently I purchased the most adorable whimsical Kate Spade bathing suit. Why would I do this when I’m 25 pounds overweight you ask? Because I am a visionary. Either that or I’m deluded. I dream things that never were and ask ‘why not?’ I may have borrowed that sentiment from the late JFK (who borrowed if from George Bernard Shaw). I’m gonna get there folks and when I do, I’m gonna stay there. And now I’m accountable to all of you. What have I done?

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I awoke this beautiful sunny Saturday morning with the knowledge that my girlfriends were doing something for my 60th birthday. All I knew was June 3rd-save the date-so I did. I was to be ready by 10:00. No time for a walk AND a shower and I wanted to look decent for this auspicious occasion. I wondered what they had planned. Curiosity reigned. I knew my daughter had been sneaking around, in and out at peculiar hours the last couple of days. Secrets were afoot.

I descended from upstairs to a foyer full of black and pink helium balloons. Did that pink pedestal plate sitting on the counter display chocolate croissants from our favorite Italian market? Indeed it did. I scarfed one down before I went back up to make myself beautiful. I don’t wake up looking like this you know.

Once I was ready I was whisked away in a bright pink limousine by a bevy of beautiful girlfriends . My marvelous mother and darling daughter were among the passengers enjoying this luxurious ride in the country. Lexie had purchased the most amazing pink champagne for our birthday tour. It was as bubbly as I was feeling inside and was the finishing touch to this lovely surprise.

What was I doing in this 25 foot car with all these beautiful and dear women and how was this all about me? How did I even accumulate so many huckleberry friends? The ride was decadent and fun and oh so memorable with black and pink leather seats and impeccably clear champagne flutes. A ceiling spotted with colourful mini lights twinkling like stars completed the picture. My first time in a limo BTW.

I’m usually the one planning the events and taking care of details and it was a dream to be the recipient not the planner this time. Being an amateur event planner I am fully aware of all the tiny details that go into making an event perfect and this was SO that.

After about 45 minutes of relaxing and visiting in the limo we arrived at our destination. The Azuridge estate hotel. I had never had the benefit of being there before and it was quite charming. My favorite part of the grounds was the light house building. We walked down the path to the entrance of the building and I was told I had to wait outside until everything was ready. A couple of the gals waited on the patio with me on this gorgeous warm morning. Next thing I know my son arrived on the scene with his camera and flip flops and began to capture memorable aspects of the days activities. He continued to preserve all the days cherished moments and I watched him with pride.

I was finally ushered inside and laid my eyes on a most glamourous and opulent table for 12. The length of the table was strewn with an exquisite piece of pale pink silk fabric. On this fabric, many vases of delicate coral peonies and other favorite blooms (that I recognized from the designer floral shop my daughter works at) were arranged.  A brass candelabra took the spotlight in the middle and dainty cellophane bags with coconut macarons made lovingly by a dear friend and Lexie during an all nighter they pulled last weekend while I was out of town for the night. These were tied with pale pink silk shantung bows. The napkins wrapped with brass cuffs and a sprig of greenery were  a subtle but beautiful touch. At the far end of the table was delectable looking coconut cake covered with pink ombré buttercream ruffles and more flowers. It was as elegant as any of the most inspirational weddings I’ve witnessed. Everything was amazing. Exactly what I would have done I thought to myself. That Lexie… a chip off the old block oozing with her own creativity and style. My heart wants to beat outside my chest.

The food we each ordered, from brioche french toast to crab cake eggs benedict, was melt in your mouth delicious. Once the empty plates were collected, to my surprise, each of these precious women took turns standing up to bless me. I was humbled and honoured to soak in their words of encouragement, friendship, love and, yes, praise. Who were these women talking about because I’d sure like to meet her? It can be very squirmy listening to friend after friend sing your praises. On the one hand you feel like something of an imposter because you know all the dark and deep wicked thoughts and mistakes that make up your own opinion of yourself while at the same time you are hoping and praying that this person they are describing would be the person your friends would discover in you.

My sweet friend, Roslyn, put together extremely thoughtful and fun swag bags of all of my favorite things to give each of the ladies. I know the amount of work and effort that went into that endeavor having done similar things in the past. From magazines, popcorn and Swedish berries to Jo Malone perfume, pink nail polish and Christmas music, she hit the nail on the head. There even were gorgeous pink Geraldine roses in each bag. She knows me well. Many of these women have been together with me through pregnancies and kids, all the way up to weddings and grandchildren of these kids. We’ve camped together, celebrated Christmases together, quilted together, prayed together, worked together, hung out in Hawaii together, walked in faith together and had deep heart to hearts over the years. Someone even pointed out that they’ve celebrated 40 with me, followed by 50 with me and now they were back to do 60 with me.

At this point my husband, my love, showed up for a cameo appearance to assist in chauffeuring all the ladies back to the city.

If the wealth of meaningful and authentic, encouraging and faithful friends is any indication of a life well lived then I think I’m on the right path. Even now I am amazed and surprised that this many women would show up for an event that’s sole purpose was to honor me on my 60th birthday. It is late now. In fact, it’s the wee hours of the morning as I reminisce about a glorious day that I don’t want to end.

I start a new season of life. I know I’ve given ‘becoming 60’ a lot of attention and airtime and now it’s time to move on. I’m not the first woman to turn 60 and I certainly won’t be the last. Some loathe the idea and don’t want to talk about it much less celebrate it. I guess I’m a little odd that way . I am just so relieved and grateful that I made it this far. Many don’t get this privilege. Plus I’ll use any milestone or excuse to celebrate life.

Life was celebrated today. Memories made. Friendships melded. Fun had. Pictures taken. Gifts shared. And now I’ll go to bed to  dream about this special day – I’ll fall asleep counting my blessings.

So this happened. I actually turned 60 this very day. I’m sure I’ve already touched on this subject in my blogging, but hey, I’m 60… I repeat things and I forget things. It’s now my right (or my wrong). In the video game of life I’ve made it to the next level. I am blessed and grateful. Time and age has finally caught up with me. I’m NOT one of those people that has been trying to outrun 60. I knew it was coming, just on the cusp and I’ve been ready for it. I’ve been referring to myself as 60 all year. Just trying it on for size.

I think there is a certain privilege and responsibility to carry the number 60 as the measurement of my time on this earth. I’m entering a new season of my life and I’m looking forward to it. I’m hoping to make much fewer mistakes and to get more things right. Guess this means that I truly am an adult. I still don’t feel like one. But I do get rare glimpses of adulthood in myself from time to time. Like when I’m praying fervently for my adult children. Or when I’m at Service Canada getting a code to look up my CPP entitlement. Or when I notice my knees have wrinkles … of course there are the stray gray hairs that just do whatever they want like stick straight up as if to say ‘hey everyone look at me’. Those grey hairs are like fishing line on steroids. Don’t even get me started on the hot flashes. My husband says I snore as well these days. I know I snore as I have woken myself up with my snoring several times. Scared the life out of me.

My first office job I used a typewriter with carbon paper, one mistake and you toss the whole thing out and start over. A teletype (which was like sending Morse code really), a gestetner with a side winding handle to make copies and a telephone with a receiver attached to the main dial portion by a coil cord. I worked in a bank and the only way to get money out was to stand in line for a teller. This makes me feel ancient. Although it’s not my fault that technology has advanced faster than the speed of light these past 40 years.

Mostly I don’t want any do overs. I certainly don’t want to do over my mistakes but I also don’t want to do over the good times or successes either. I just want to live off the good memories and create new ones. I’ve been 60 for less than 24 hours and I’ve already made a couple of mistakes and behaved unbecomingly. Oy vey! I am a work in progress.

I mean let’s face it, I’m basically the same person today at 60 as I was yesterday at 59, with the same flaws, fears and insecurities. There is nothing magic about progressing a year. I’m hoping and praying that I will grow and mature a bit more this coming year and by the time I’m 80 I will have earned a certain respect for the growth, maturity and wisdom I covet.
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It’s a new year and a new season. I will attempt to handle it with grace.

I write because I have stories to tell. I write because I have read others peoples stories and been so moved by them or felt such an affinity to them that they’ve changed my life. Other people stories have comforted me. Made me laugh. Made me feel ‘not alone’. They’ve encouraged me and fed my soul. I want to do the same.

I write because so very often I don’t understand an incident until I read it written. I write because it heals me. I write so I won’t forget. I write to solve problems. I write to talk to God. I write to document my life. I write so I will know myself better. I write because it’s creative. I need to create. I write when I can’t use a picture. I write to be known. I write to be accountable and authentic.

I have never studied literature or the English language (much). I don’t have a doctorate, masters or even a BA in anything. I’m not a psychologist. But I am a voracious reader and I know I need to be reading to be writing. It’s where I get my inspiration.

You can probably tell quite quickly when I’ve been inspired from the depths of my soul to write about something and when I am struggling but I’ve committed to writing anyway and will continue to post the mediocre with the inspired as my commitment to writing and to earn the right to call myself a writer. Even the sadly lacking stories are part of the journey. When I can’t be entertaining then I will be authentic. If the vocabulary is elusive then I must write down the real raw feelings.

I find the value in writing is that it can be read over and over again. If you found joy in the story you can find joy in it again. If it healed you then you can be healed again. If you found encouragement then read it every time you are downcast. If you laughed then read it to someone else and make them laugh too. Stories written are treasures. They are gifts. They are a legacy and can outlive their author. Stories written down are enduring. Stories have the power to evoke feelings we didn’t know we had. The light can go on (revelation) when we are reading. A good book is like a good friend. We don’t want it to be over. Its a way of escape. It can even be an escape for the writer. Writing is a way to relive incredible experiences and document memories.

I am a writer because I write. Plain and simple. If you make quilts you are a quilter no matter how your quilts turn out. If you paint you are a painter even if no one has seen your paintings. Even if I just write for myself, I’m still a writer. I enjoy being a writer. I have sometimes referred to myself as an aspiring writer when in actuality I’m not aspiring, I’m already doing it. I am an aspiring book writer. That’s something I haven’t done -yet.

I do not consider myself retired or finished but rather ‘in between”. Since I cannot afford the luxury of retiring yet I know that new work must come. New meaning. New purpose. New reality.

I appear to be floating in that inbetween place or that liminal space where I have left the known, the familiar, the safe and secure (well as it turns out, not so secure) but I haven’t replaced it with anything yet. So I’m dangling in between two phases. It’s a temporary waiting place. I’m waiting to find out what’s next. BTW I’m just not really great at waiting. Impatience rules. I also haven’t been doing much with myself. It’s like I have been sitting here waiting for the other shoe to drop or something to fall down from heaven, right into my lap, making everything clear and easy. But guess what? That isn’t happening. At least not yet.

Ive been doing some research on liminal space and have learned that most often this is where transformation can happen. Who knew? When I have successfully navigated this in between phase I could be a different person or at least have transformed paradigms if I allow myself to embark on the journey. So maybe I’m getting too impatient. Maybe I need to wait a little longer. Liminality is a sacred space. It’s the only space in life where we we actually experience growth, so I’ve read. Maybe I needed more growth? Ya think?

What was wrong with the old me and the old life? I had found it to be quite comfortable and working. Enjoyable even. Was I starting to idealize or idolize normalcy? Of course I was. I was growing so complacent and apathetic. Just going through the motions of life and not really growing. Not really challenging myself. Playing it safe and not taking any risks.

As a believer that tries, on a daily basis, to surrender her life to Christ and let Him have his will with it I could ask Him why I was brought to this space? But He has also set life in motion and sometimes things just happen because people make them happen and God’s will doesn’t always happen so quite possibly me being unemployed wasn’t His will. But this I know, He can take what was meant for ill or harm and He can turn it around and use it for my good. Every time. But I feel so useless and redundant as I live each day of life not really accomplishing anything or contributing to the betterment and growth of…. well… anything.

I do have quite a few ideas formulating and brewing but I have felt I was not to move forward with my own agenda, as I am in the habit of doing. So I’ve been waiting and wasting. And I have been listening.

Interestingly enough, since writing this last paragraph, my listening has been rewarded. I have had a bit of a Damascus Road experience that appears to be changing everything so I guess that’s what happens in liminality. Just so you know, I start articles and sometimes don’t go back to them for days…. that’s how something profound can happen inbetween paragraphs.

I will not leave you hanging. To be continued….

I remember being in a hot spin/yin class with Lexie and after the instructor (or yogi) had nearly torn our muscles to shreds, she asked us to stretch ourselves as high up to the ceiling as we possibly could and while we were up there ‘to feel our authenticity’. I looked at Lexie and literally spit out a laugh. ‘Where does she get this stuff?’ I wondered? What did it mean? Feel that I am a real person and not just a mirage or a mannequin? I mean anything that involved lying on my mat on the floor with a hot eucalyptus cloth on my forehead – I was into. Spew whatever ridiculous yogi-isms you want, I’m tuned out. I’m having an outer body experience as sweat pours down my frame. I’m authentic all right. Authentically relaxed and sleeping. Wake me when it’s over. Lexie is poking me to alert me that the room is empty and I authentically have to get up and drive home now. BTW that class cost an authentic $22. Did someone say spoiled and luxury in the same sentence?

I don’t think this is the same kind of authentic we discussed in our home group several weeks ago. Our first question for discussion was to identify someone we considered truly authentic. I threw out Trumps name for a laugh and a laugh it did get. Billy Grahams name came up but I’m pretty sure that person was describing integrity. Authentic, we decided, meant real and consistent. So I guess if someone is a real jerk and is consistently a jerk then he is an authentic jerk.

I mentally ran down the list of people I associate with on a regular basis and could only really think of one or two people that I considered truly authentic. In my thinking, someone authentic is going to be consistent in character and speech. Their actions will match their words -always. I will always know what to expect from them. They will be the same person every time I am with them. No surprises. No secrets. No hiding. No pretenses. They will not try to be someone they are not and they will always be honest and upfront. They will be a safe place. This appears to be a difficult thing to do.

Then we discussed whether being authentic involved being vulnerable. I, personally, think it does. If I am being very real and honest then I am making myself vulnerable because I have no idea how you will process what I am projecting. I’m not hiding anything so that makes me an open book. I also believe humility enters the picture as well. If we are caught up in the image we are projecting then pride enters the scenario. If we try to project an image that is more favourable than we deserve then pride has run amuck. This is so easy to do with social media these days. People only get to see what we want them to see. That’s a another blog for another day.

I want to be authentic. I want to be real. And this should come so naturally but often, it doesn’t. I want to be a safe place. Seriously folks, putting up pretenses is exhausting. I don’t have no time for dat!

I think we all fake it now and then and maybe rightfully so. When we don’t want to burden people. They are going through a lot and the last thing they need to know is that your life is falling apart, so we hide that. But hopefully you have people in your life that can handle the truth and allow you to be authentic. If someone knows the real me, with all my warts and foibles, and still loves me or wants to be around me, well that’s a relationship worth pursuing and protecting.

I want my motto to be ‘what you see is what you get’. No hidden agendas, no pretending, no hiding. And if I’m being authentic then maybe, just maybe, that will allow you to be authentic too. Who are we hiding and why?

Pepe le Pew is back for a repeat visit. He thought he would live under our shed the summer of 2015 but Mike managed to run him off our property and out of town but it appears he is back. What is it about these animals that just love our yard? I know we fixed it up pretty special so we and our friends could enjoy it but seriously? We added a bird feeder to our yard this spring so we would attract melodious song birds not smelly rodents. It’s the only source of food we have back there. Lexie and Mike spent Victoria Day planting all the new plants Lexie felt we needed to round out our repertoire of blooms and that little weasel dug them up to burrow himself deep beneath the shed. If it’s not the deer smorging out on our flowers and new trees then it’s skunks living under our shed.

We also noticed a bit of an ant problem close to the deck. When I arrived on the scene I noticed that mike and the kids had set up a barrier of tables on their sides at the top of the stairs to the deck and they were all standing around mesmerized by the army of ants. I looked at the ants and I looked at the tables and thought out loud to myself ‘surely you don’t think these tables are going to keep the ants off the deck?’ They chuckled and assured me the barrier was to keep the skunk off the deck.

I’ve been reading up on the lifestyles of the skunk and apparently if a skunk is feathering a nest under your shed it’s probably a female getting ready for her babies. So there is a good chance that this is Mrs. Pepe le Pew. Well one of them anyway as apparently skunks are polygamous. Maybe that’s why Warner Bros has portrayed Pepe le pew as the Don Juan of the animal kingdom.

Somebody in our family said ‘well she darn well better not lay her eggs under our shed’. And I replied ‘yeah, if that warm blooded mammal deigns to lay her eggs under our shed I’ll scramble them for breakfast’. I pray there are no babies yet. If Lexie finds out there’s babies she will want to throw them a baby shower. Oy. All I can say is you better be serving lots of tomato juice at the shower.

Mike and the kids stuffed every possible opening in the yard with newspaper and then put bolts on the gate so if skunkypew left they’d know because the bolts would have fallen. Andrew was voted the person to monitor the skunks activity at night since they are nocturnal and so is he. I warned him about getting sprayed. I told him to take an old blanket onto the deck in case the skunk attacked him as he would not be coming into the house after that. He would be sleeping on the deck. The shrunk can spray 6 rounds of ammo and then it takes him 10 days to reload so at least if andrew got sprayed we’d know we had 10 more days to outsmart the little stinker.

Both kids went to check out the bolts at 2am last night. That was clever. They could have both been sleeping out there. However the bolts had fallen down in the direction of the skunk exiting the yard so they closed the opening in the gate and stuffed the paper back in the opening under the shed and went to bed. We think it’s gone but time will smell the story.

I’ll keep you posted.