Wack-a-do

Restraint is Not My Strong Suit

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 01:07:00 +0000

( Warning: much whinging and sniveling below.)

Man, this peri-menopausal thing is kicking my ass.

One of my goals for this year was to restore my health so that I could come off all of the medications that I'd been taking. So far, it has gone pretty well but I'm thinking about resuming the use of the bio-identical creams because my PMS symptoms have returned with a ferocity for which I was unprepared and frankly, just the everyday stresses that we all encounter are seemingly insurmountable five days out of every twenty three.

There is so much information out there on how to manage the years of hot flashes, night sweats, heart palpitations and homicidal lunacy but much of it is conflicting and in no book, have I read how to curb the instinct to thrash my husband when he refers to the incessant chatter of the cicadas that surround our house as, "soothing". They are lots of things to describe the cacaphony like maddening, deafening...piercing even; but they are most definitely NOT BLOODY SOOTHING.

Today, we sat in the kitchen and he asked me what was wrong. (Clearly, something is wrong as I am not very good at hiding my emotions.) In the one nanosecond of common sense that has peppered my thoughts for the last couple of days, I told him that I preferred not to discuss anything of import right now because I am a premenstrual, emotional, nutbar, who is unsure of whether or not her current opinions are reasonable or the product of raging hormones. I asked that we table any discussions until next week. I think he agreed but I can't remember because that is another weird PMS side effect right now: lack of information retention. This is problematic because there is so much going on right now.

Like the fact that our master bath shower is non functional. At first, I thought that it would be no big deal to use Liv's bathroom upstairs. Wrong.

The repair was to have begun on February 2nd but the project coordinator, is lazy. He showed up late that Thursday morning, took a look and said he'd be back the following Tuesday because it was a long weekend, blah, blah, hard to coordinate workers, blah, blah, better to get it all done at one time...

Whatever.

Dude showed up on Tuesday the 7th, did forty- five minutes of work and took off. The "builder" (lovely, lovely, Scottish man) showed up late Wednesday morning and worked like a dog all afternoon and the following morning. He was impressive. And then, the project went silent. Nobody came Friday or Saturday or Sunday or today. We called and we text.

"The plumber will be there today."

"When?" I asked.

"I'll text you," he replied.

**Sigh**

We are renters, now. The amount that we pay per fortnight here, at this lovely home near the sea, is nearly equal to the monthly mortgage on our house in the US so it chafes when one of the amenities of the home is out of service for any length of time. We've been waiting for the upstairs window latches to be repaired since November. My first instinct is to get on the phone with the property manager and raise hell but something tells me that an obnoxious, aggressive, approach isn't going to get the shower fixed or the windows done any sooner. So instead, I stew and call the project manager filthy names when there is nobody around to hear me.

Strangely, it makes me feel better.

When I moved, I obviously knew that we would have to find new schools, stylists and doctors. It hasn't been fun. I'm so grateful that the educational situation was easy. My kids are in great schools.

I wasn't so lucky with the whole stylist thing. The first person who did my hair made me look like a leopard on LSD. Not kidding. I've since found another person and later this week, after my fourth visit, I'm hoping that I'll finally look like myself again.

Finally, let's talk about the cost of orthodontics in this country. It is harrowing. Unlike the US, one must pay for the initial consultation ($125...reasonable, I suppose) and then before the quote is issued, one must shell out another $650 for diagnostic X-rays, etc., which is NOT deducted from the treatment cost should one decide to go with that professional. It kind of discourages getting a second and third opinion because who can shell out nearly $2500 trying to find the appropriate orthodontist? So far, we have been told Dylan's mouth is going to cost between $7800 and $12,000 to fix so we are currently investigating creative payment options because what do I really need with both kidneys anyway, right?

So there you have it. I haven't blogged in over a month and when I do, it's a negative, PMS, rant. Did I mention that I'm turning FORTY FUCKING FIVE this week? And, I have a waxing appointment.

As my sister in law says, "I hate everything and everyone".

Except chocolate.

And sparkling wine.

And my mother in law.

Another year, another diet

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 22:31:00 +0000

So far, so good with the New Year's resolve.

Today, it is raining. Again. If this keeps up for much longer, I may have to get myself under some of those special lights that mimic the sun because the rain has a way of taking one's mood and flushing it down the toilet.

Besides this weather abberation, New Zealand is awesome. Next week, I will plant a few seeds in the garden in an effort to pretend that, I too, can grow food. Gardening is prevalent here, and people plant wherever there is room. My in laws have their garden smack dab in the front of their house where we would put ornamental shrubs and flowers if we were still in the US. The thing about New Zealand is that it is lush EVERYWHERE so having lettuce, tomatoes, beans and rainbow chard growing beside the front door, is not all that weird. In the more established neighborhoods, it looks like the flora swallowed the houses whole and belched out a few bricks and some windows as an afterthought. Our new place is completely enveloped in plants and has a tropical resort feel to it. Even my son, whose admiration is generally reserved only for electronic gadgets, has remarked that he can't believe we get to live here. Agreed.

In addition to acquiring a green thumb, I am also starting this new 30 day health thing on Monday. I plan to shed every bit of the stress that I ingested the last three months of 2011. I've roped my husband into doing it with me, too, because it's no good if only one person in the marriage is a complete nutbar from lack of caffeine, food and alcohol. It's best for both to be equally insane. For extra motivation, I will have him snap me in a bikini, in my present state, which is a HORROR SHOW. If I fail to stick with the program for thirty days, he has my permission to publish the photo. You have no idea how much that frightens me.

Regardless of where my willpower ends up, it will be good to experience some reduction because I'm not interested in exploring any more letters of the alphabet where my bra size is concerned.

Resolution Remix

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 18:57:00 +0000

"If you build it, they will come."

These are memorable words from a great movie but I think the concept is applicable for anything in life. My personal belief is that we can think just about anything into reality so we better focus on good things, right? The mind is a powerful tool.

In that vein, I have composed a short list of New Year's Resolutions that I fully intend to cultivate over the next year because as I age and hopefully, mature, I realize that there are no limitations except the ones that I place on myself. So....

1. GET FIT. I didn't mention losing weight, on purpose, because it's a given. I'm trying something new (imagine that) but I'm pretty sure it will help me attain the goals I've set. I really don't have a lot of excuses. The beach is a two minute walk, there are heaps of running trails and parks here and I have a pool in my backyard.

2. READ FICTION. EVERY DAY. I miss reading for pleasure. It used to be the thing that I would do to relax, which is so much healthier than drinking.

3. GIVE THANKS. Silently, verbally, written.....it doesn't matter; only that there is acknowledgement. I think it is important, at least once a day, to take inventory and focus on what is awesome instead of getting derailed by the small things. I am going to take a page out of my husband's book and concentrate on finding the good in people and be grateful for each new friendship because that really seems to work for him. So, while I'm pretty sure that our new landlords are batshit crazy, I am planning to have them over for dinner and give them the benefit of the doubt.

4. DO TODAY WHAT COULD BE DONE TOMORROW. As a chronic procrastinator, being proactive versus reactive is probably a better path for me. This will be the year that I do not pay unnecessary courier fees to get documents someplace on time. This is the year that I will file my income taxes on April 15th instead of October 10th. I will buy my airline tickets earlier and secure trade show lodging before I need to sell a kidney to finance it. In 2012, no matter how unpleasant the task, I will do it BEFORE the deadline or pay someone else to do it for me.

5. ALLOW MY BUSINESS TO GROW. As a small business owner, taking a cautious, risk-adverse, position can occasionally inhibit growth. The "spend money to make money" philosophy has always rubbed me the wrong way but it is the reality. In the last quarter of 2011, my partner and I put together a couple of deals that have dramatically changed the course of our company. We are just beside ourselves with excitement but the demands and complexities of the deals have us shaking in our boots. However, I have decided to give myself permission to be wildly successful and to stop watching from the conservative sidelines. Sometimes, the biggest investment that needs to be made is in changing one's own belief system.

6. BE STILL. This will be the hardest one for me to adopt but it is the most important because when I quiet the noise in my head and just be; when I slow the frenetic pace down to a measured heartbeat and a deep breath, I find peace. In the silence, my mind sharpens and I am able to problem solve. I vow to make an effort to take fifteen minutes, at least once a day, to have a cup of tea and collect my thoughts because my only other option is yoga and it kicks my arse.

Happy New Year.

I hope the Mayans were wrong and that 2012 brings all of you love, happiness, health and prosperity.

Moving Is NOT For The Fainthearted

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 19:44:00 +0000

For any of you who were looking for a change of scenery and have decided to move to New Zealand, here are a few tips regarding the transportation of your belongings that might come in handy.

1. Your moving company is full of shit. Once you accept this as fact, you will be able to manage your expectations.

2. Your guess at how much your goods will weigh will be grossly underestimated. Guaranteed. This move is going to cost you an arm, leg and your firstborn child. I promise.

3. Shop around for marine insurance because your moving company's quote is unreasonable and designed to capitalize on a captive audience.

4. If you are moving from North America to the just about anywhere else in the world, don't bring appliances of any sort unless they are rated for 240 volts because that power converter that you think will be the panacea will eventually blow up your Dyson, your expensive juicer and that fantastic mini food processor you got as a wedding gift. Also, those big-ass, North American, side by side fridges to match our big, North American asses, will not fit into most overseas kitchens. Leave them behind.

5. When the moving company tells you that it will take 70 days door to door, you must nod agreeably and understand that if you are shipping from the US, you do not have a hope in hell of seeing your stuff for at least 85 days (see #1 above). New Zealand is the last stop on the way to the Antarctic. It's pretty far from everything and only boasts a population of just over four million people, which means there aren't a lot of direct sailings from North America to here. Our stuff visited a few ports to hook up with some other containers before arriving in Auckland. Yours will too.

6. New Zealand is absolutely gorgeous. There are no snakes. There are no crawly creatures that can harm you here, which is why I am actually contemplating camping (for real, like tents and no running water real) with friends in late January. The government department of agriculture has the overwhelming task of making sure that things stay this way and thus, in New Zealand, every household goods container needs to be inspected for a host of scary, threatening things including: Christmas decorations (those nasty pinecones, even painted and glittered ones, can host a variety of undesirable pests), outdoor furniture and yard equipment, sporting goods (bicycles, golf clubs, golf and soccer shoes), dry food, spices and herbs and anything related to pets of any sort. These inspections are not free. As a matter of fact, they can be quite expensive, especially when one calculates the surcharges assessed by your freight company for "hosting" said inspections. Let me tell you, it's not a bloody dinner party. (Please see #1 above)

7. 99% of all sea containers coming into New Zealand do not meet the specs necessary for them to be unloaded at the place of residence and therefore, the moving company will transport your container to their warehouse ($), unload it ($$) and repack it into an "approved" delivery vessel ($$$$$). If you know this ahead of time, you can easily make your way to the nearest grog shop and stock up on the necessary provisions. YOU WILL NEED ALCOHOL before viewing your "final" delivery charges. I wish I was kidding.

8. Your goods will deliver on the only day in the week when you had your hair, doctor or orthodontist appointment scheduled because that's just the way it is and you will be so damn desperate to see your belongings again that you will forsake EVERYTHING ELSE, especially when the moving company emails you to tell you that sorry, they will not be able to deliver until after the New Year and how does January 5th look and you LOSE YOUR SHIT and call your husband in tears because he's the reasonable one and you are holding onto your sanity by the skin of your teeth and somehow, miraculously, a Sunday slot opens up after he trots down to the office to speak ever so kindly to them in person and while he is grateful for small mercies, you shake your head wondering how many other desperate immigrants in Auckland will not get to see their stuff before Christmas because the general manager doesn't like that they are upset at receiving exactly the same email you did. God complex much? (see #1 above)

9. Expect some of your items to be broken or slightly damaged because they will have traveled all over the globe and been touched by at least ten people before they arrive on your doorstep. If nothing is broken, you may use that as a good reason to crack open another bottle of wine and toast your good luck. We were really fortunate. The only thing of ours that got damaged was a Bombay table. New handles and scratch cover pen took care of that.

10. The first sleep you have in your own bed after three months in other cribs, will magically make items #2-9 seem unimportant. It's a bit like childbirth. I completely expect that in eighteen months, I won't remember much about the shift at all except that the moving company was full of shit.

Driving Like Rainman

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 03:58:00 +0000

A weird thing happened to me yesterday while driving to our local mall.

Nobody beeped at me.

When we first got here, driving was a complete nightmare. The steering wheel is on the right side of the car (which shouldn't be that big a deal but it is) and we drive on the left side of the road (which is FREAKY). I can't tell you how many times I've turned on my blinker and had the windshield wipers sweep across instead. The blinker lever is on the right. It takes some getting used to, as does looking right first and then left when merging into traffic.

Then, there is the whole width/depth perception thing. When you learn to drive sitting on the left side, the sense of how wide your car is is just one of those things you absorb without thinking about it. Switching over to the right side has twisted my spatial skills into a knot. I now park like an asshole. If I were still in the States, my car would have been keyed by now. Don't even get me started on parallel parking. Embarrassing. Horror. Show.

Oh, and the traffic circles....they are absurd. You approach one and either turn on the blinkers left or right to indicate which spoke you are taking which is not as simple as it sounds because you must go left to go right. It's fucked. At the beginning, I either kept going around, unsure of which bloody road to take or I sat at the opening of the roundabout, heart pounding trying to get it straight in my head before venturing out into traffic. I got beeped at the most, there.

In this country, you are not allowed to make a turn on a red light. I'm not sure who clued me into this fact but it was long after I had made several illegal lefts into the flow of traffic and before any police officer had caught me (thank God). There are also a couple of rules regarding yielding the right of way (that make NO SENSE AT ALL) that I have unwittingly broken. For instance, if I want to turn right and the car approaching me wants to turn left into the same street, he has to yield to me. It's lovely and courteous but a nutty rule which I've unintentionally disobeyed to the sound of honking horns and wild hand gestures.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, I drove to the mall without thinking about it. I negotiated the roundabouts while contemplating my shopping list. I zipped into an open space in a jammed parking lot and later, drove home, mentally trying to calculate how much I'd spent and what I'd be making for dinner. I was on autopilot and surprisingly, there were no beeps and no middle fingers thrust in my general direction. I have been avoiding the motorway (freeway) for fear of orphaning my children or someone else's children. Perhaps today, with my new found confidence, is the day to tackle that hurdle where the fast lane is to the right and exits to the left.

Then again, maybe not.

I'm an excellent driver. But not on Friday, definitely not on Friday.

Dude! Where's My Container?

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Sun, 04 Dec 2011 22:00:00 +0000

It's been seventy days since I've slept in my own bed.

I've never been big on the acquisition of material possessions (with the notable exception of Apple products) but I really, really miss my stuff. The trouble is that nobody can give me a date as to when I might see it again.

Our container was supposed to arrive into the port of Auckland last Friday but unfortunately, the port workers voted to strike THE DAY BEFORE and thus, our belongings were diverted to another port further south. Apparently, they have been railed back up here and now, they will be COMPLETELY unloaded, inspected by MAF and then put into an "approved" trailer for delivery to the Auckland suburbs. The costs associated with the aforementioned steps were not included in the head-shaking amount we have already paid.

But at this point, Dallas and I just look at one another and giggle.

In fact, regardless of how much money we are hemorrhaging, at this point, I would pay just about anything to have my king size bed back. Why?

a) My husband is a first class bed hog and we are sharing a queen on loan to us.

b) Living in limbo is what I imagine purgatory will be like.

And

c) Both of us have been medicating with food lately. Bumping bellies in the middle of the night is not sexy.

The first couple of days in our new digs, we were giddy with the newness of it all and the fact that we had stopped siphoning my in laws' resources. Now, two and a half weeks later, the infatuation with our view has eased just a smidgen and we've noticed a few flaws that are bound to drive us me mental somewhere down the road.

The truth is, I need my furniture.

I need for my kitchen to be fully functional.

I really need my fat clothes.

Amen.

A Perfect Day

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Sat, 03 Dec 2011 00:11:00 +0000

Today is an absolutely stunning day in Auckland. It's the type where all of the washing gets done thanks to the perfect mix of breeze and sunshine. It's the day when you open up all of the windows, skim the leaves from the pool's surface and turn the music up.

For some reason, the presentation of this gorgeous spring morning has me thinking about the grandmas and how much I wish they were still here to enjoy the sun on their faces.

On September 19th, Dallas's paternal grandmother died. This was especially hard news because we were still in the US and believed that we would make it home in time to see her. She left word for Dallas that he was NOT to fly home upon the news of her death. We labored to honor that wish because being absent felt really wrong. We did get to attend her funeral, though, thanks to the miracle of Skype.

When our plane landed in New Zealand a month later, Dallas turned to me and said his first thought, that he needed to call Grammy Rhodie, was chased away with the understanding that he would never again be able to do that and how that made his chest heavy.

At precisely midnight on November 24th, Grammy June also decided to leave us. It's hard to put into words how much that hurt my heart. When we arrived in New Zealand mid October, Grammy was still in the nursing home. She was slower to get around than she had been at Christmas last year, for sure, but I would never have imagined in just over thirty days, she would be gone. The rapid decline in her health was shocking and something for which I was completely unprepared.

We had services for her earlier this week. Dylan sobbed through the entire funeral. I understood his pain. Grammy June was exceptionally kind to my children.

So as I sit here, with Adele singing in the background, clean laundry on the line and bathing in the sunshine with the gorgeous expanse of the east coast of Auckland spread out before me, I'm thinking of the grandmas and wishing them, wherever they are, the warmth of the sun on their faces too.

The Move

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 11:40:00 +0000

Moving across the world has been an experience. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that my eye twitched with stress for seven weeks straight. SEVEN WEEKS.

I didn’t manage all that well.

I barked at my family, consumed ibuprofen like candy, ate and drank with abandon and finally surrendered. That was the worst. That was when the fog settled in.

I’d wake up each morning with a belly full of worms and I’d wait. Like a drug, I’d feel the haze seep into my consciousness and slow the panic. I was tired all of the time. I watched my life unfold from an emotional distance that was unsettling but not so much so that I did anything about it. In the fog, there was safety. I escaped there.

In the weeks leading up to our departure, we put our beloved cat on a plane to Canada, had a massive garage sale which was attended by the every batshit nutter within a ten mile radius. We saw dentists, doctors, orthodontists and optometrists. We sold our cars and (gulp) our Harleys. Nine days before leaving the country, we went on one last motorcycle trip with close friends while my kids bid farewell to their dad. Four days later, we moved out of our house and into a hotel and like a complete idiot, I continued to home school. The stress was overwhelming.

Finally, the day came for us to leave and our first stop was Canada, to see my family. We stayed with my brother and his lovely wife for a couple of days. Still, the fog didn’t lift, for which I am enormously grateful because this time at the end of our visit, as I waved goodbye to them, like I have a million times before, I felt something splinter inside.

Next, we took a ferry over to mum’s house in Victoria and invaded her space for several days. My eye twitched like a junkie and we laughed a bit speculating that it was my mother's power to make me crazy but the truth is, she was gorgeous. The geographical distance between us had never bothered me in the eighteen years that I’d been gone from Canada and the reality of travel these days is such that she will likely be able to fly to Auckland faster than she has been able to travel to Arkansas but there is something about having the expanse of the Pacific Ocean separating us that gives me pause. Selfishly, I want her to emigrate to New Zealand.

While in Victoria, I was able to briefly catch up with two of my girlfriends from high school. Although we didn’t get a lot of time together, I was reminded of how fortunate I am to have these people in my life who love me unconditionally and drop everything to see me when I’m in town, in spite of the fact that I really suck at staying in touch. I love them and miss them.

We left Victoria and took another ferry across to Seattle where a third girlfriend from high school (that I haven’t seen in TWENTY FIVE YEARS) met me. She left work, traveled south the three hours from Vancouver, on a Friday, during rush hour traffic, to have a cocktail and catch up for a few hours. I am still awed by that. I have missed her too.

Early Saturday morning on October 1, 2011, Dallas, the kids and I boarded a plane for Honolulu where we would spend the next nine days trying to peel away the layers of stress that had enveloped us for the better part of two months. As the nose of the plane lifted off the ground, I felt the first hints of relief from the perpetual weight on my chest. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and comforted myself with the knowledge that the hardest part was over.

We were on to our new adventure.

Note

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 07:42:00 +0000

Hi.

There is SO much to share with you and I'm not trying to be a dinkus maximus but I won't be able to post until after the weekend.

Hang in there with me.

I'll bring cocktails.

Tick, Tick, Tick

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Tue, 13 Sep 2011 22:54:00 +0000

Time hasn't really had much meaning for me this year.

When I thought I had a handle on it, I found it skipping away just beyond the reach of my fingertips. I yearned to harness it. I wanted to break it up into smaller, more manageable chunks and elongate every moment. I've tried everything to slow it down but I give up. I am resigned to sit quietly as it whooshes past, leaving me barely able to comprehend the date I see each morning on my desk clock.

For nearly ten months, Dallas and I have been planning our departure from America. I have coped by immersing myself in work and focusing on just putting one foot in front of the other. It was a good plan up until Labour Day and then, something gave way.

I'm not sure if it was the change in temperature or the mad scramble to tie up loose ends like doctor and dentist appointments but whatever the catalyst, I have suddenly found myself walking into our garage to get water only to become disoriented when faced with the newly empty space where our fridge once sat. I have several panic-filled moments each day worrying who will do my hair in Auckland. I've been to see the same girl, my friend, in Arkansas, every five weeks for the last ten years. I study maps of the North Island of New Zealand trying to memorize the spaghetti-like twist of the different roads wondering how long it will be before their bends become familiar.

Moving is scary.

Moving is harder as one ages.

When I arrived in San Diego, California on April 3rd, 1993 with a suitcase, a backpack and almost nothing else, I was electrified with the possibilities that my new life would certainly offer. Eighteen years later, I am wife to an amazing man, mother to two beautiful children and president of my own company. The United States has been very, very good to me.

And now, America will afford me the unique option to split our time with another country so my husband will be whole and so my children will be graced with a huge chunk of world as their oyster. With a Canadian mum, a Kiwi stepfather and being American born, Dylan and Liv will be able to live and work in Canada, Australia, New Zealand, the US and many European countries. How's that for opportunity?

My only complaint is time. I don't seem to have enough of it and what is available seems to pass too quickly to file away into memory. Now begins the next major phase of my life and I am concerned that when I'm older and the frenetic pace has slowed; when the occasion comes to reflect upon this newest adventure and what it meant for our family, I won't remember.

And I want to.

I want to savour every delicious second of this journey.

I Remember

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Fri, 09 Sep 2011 17:14:00 +0000

With the approaching ten year anniversary of September 11th, television programming, print media and the internet have been rife with reflections of that ill fated day.

I have avoided most of the coverage because a decade later, the wound is still raw. I find my breath unexpectedly catching in my throat, my chest tightening and the sting of unshed tears collecting at the corners of my eyes. How is it that ten years later, the horror, the disbelief, the mourning and the deep, throbbing, sadness still remain?

I was home from work, sick with pneumonia and pregnant with Olivia on September 11, 2001. I turned on the Today show and within a few moments, the coverage switched to the north tower. It was on fire. Apparently, a small commuter plane had crashed into it. I remember hoping that there would be survivors on the floor that sustained the most damage. Then, with millions of other people, I watched as United flight 175 crash into the south tower, live, on television.

What the hell is going on with air traffic control? That was my first thought.

But seconds later as the videotape was replayed and it was evident that it was a commercial plane and the newscasters used words like, "concerted effort" and "attack", the truth of the situation became undeniable. The first tendrils of panic filled my belly. I called my mum in Canada. Together, we watched the tragedy unfold.

I've been down to visit the WTC site on every visit I've made to NYC since that day. And each time, it is like a kick to the gut. It just never gets any easier. I didn't lose anyone that day and I personally don't know anybody that did but it doesn't matter.

On September 11th, 2001, everything changed.

There is not a single, good, thing that came out of the events of that day. The unity that we felt as a nation in the aftermath faded all too soon. There is no silver lining. There are no great cosmic lessons that have been learned. There is only war and intolerance and death and debt and grief and mourning and fear and suspicion.

I hope that one day, we will heal enough to be an uncompromising force for world peace. Until then, we will rebuild and remember the 2977 innocent people who died.

Depreciation

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Thu, 08 Sep 2011 20:56:00 +0000

Let me tell you something about selling used furniture, appliances and the like. They aren't worth squat.

Seriously.

First, there is the stainless side by side fridge that we bought a few years ago to the tune of about $1800 bucks. Today, we'll be lucky to get $600 for it. I will never buy another stainless product again because you can't keep the bastards clean. They are a fingerprint nightmare.

Then, we have our front loading washing machine. I spent DAYS researching that purchase until I came up with a Frigidaire unit which promised performance without the huge price tag of the fancier LG and Bosch models. After rebates and incentives, we shelled out just over $700 but I felt smart and informed, until today. A little web surfing tells me that even offering free delivery, we probably won't see any more than $200.

And the list goes on and on.

The point, I suppose, is that at the end of the day, why do any of us buy anything new when we can pick up good quality near new items for a song? Of course, there is that sticky little "used" part. One can never be sure how someone has utilized their fridge ( Jeffrey Dahmer comes to mind) and I can only imagine what badness could be tossed into a washing machine but I'm pretty sure that with the exception of beds and underwear, used items offer a superior value to their brand new counterparts.

If we are going to retire like The Millionaire Next Door, I'm thinking that the hubby and I had better cultivate a different mindset...... less consumer and more producer.

Personally, I think I will kick off my newfound financial enlightenment by combing through the used merchandise adverts listed on New Zealand's "TradeMe". I'll plan to pay special attention to those that say, "Moving Overseas" because, you know, that's where DEPRECIATION lives.

Cleanse and Cash

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Tue, 30 Aug 2011 13:11:00 +0000

Time is passing so quickly these days as it always does when you feel you don't have enough of it. Business is strong, homeschool is ticking along and slowly, all of the items our "to do" list are being crossed off.

A few weeks ago, I resigned myself to the fact that we will have to hold a garage sale. It is the most efficient way of divesting ourselves of the things that we will not be able to bring with us on our journey across the Pacific. The mere thought of that day makes my stomach hurt. Friends of ours recently had a garage sale of their own and unfortunately, the local paper got the date wrong. A week before they had planned, on a rare, quiet Saturday morning when neither of them had to work, they were startled awake by an insistent POUNDING on their front door.

At 6:30 am.

I'm not the most rational person on most days. I experience a near constant internal dialogue where the kind and reasonable side of my personality wrestles with the larger, impatient, head-shaking, wincing, angry, I'd-like-to-beat-the-tar-out-of-you side.

Let me just say this one thing. If I advertised a garage sale for 7:00am on a Saturday morning and had people thumping on my front door at 6:30am, it would be fugly. I've clearly communicated this personality defect to my husband and asked that he specifically mention the possibility of bloodshed should anyone try to be the uninvited, unwanted, early bird on said morning.

So last weekend, we power washed the garage floor, cleared all the shelves and then filled them, by theme (small appliances, lamps, seasonal, books, etc), with all those things that need a new home. It was enormously satisfying. I was also forced to open two boxes that were being stored in the garage and which hadn't seen the light of day since 1999. I'm not kidding.

I had moved those boxes from Houston to Bentonville, from Bentonville to a different Bentonville address and then from Bentonville, here to Tulsa. Twelve years.

I kept exactly two scrapbooks and a bag of pictures.

As I looked around the kitchen this morning with its absence of steamers, crock pots, popcorn makers, portable ovens, toasters, blenders, mini grills, food processors, beaters and such, I noticed that I preferred the minimalist decor. There is order in the nothingness. I can't say that I will be anxious to clutter all that clean, empty, space in my new environment. There is beauty in less.

Thus, while certainly filled with anxiety in regard to the mechanics of holding a garage sale, I am eager to give our house a colonic.

And the fistful of cash when it's all said and done is better than a kick in the pants.

Steve

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 19:08:00 +0000

“I have always said if there ever came a day when I could no longer meet my duties and expectations as Apple’s C.E.O., I would be the first to let you know. Unfortunately, that day has come.” - Steve Jobs, August 24, 2011

Good bye, Steve.

Thank you.

Be well.

Postcard From Lip of My Sanity

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Wed, 24 Aug 2011 21:49:00 +0000

Remember the construction zone next door? Well, I'm just a big ball of hate and discontent today.

My office looks out onto our driveway and street. While not the most scenic, this view does have its advantages. I'm able to catch our post lady and give her last minute mailings. I can watch Olivia as she pedals her bike with a ramrod straight spine and I am able to spot the Jehovah's before they see me which means I can gather the children, flee upstairs and pretend we aren't home.

Today, I saw something that made my head explode. I watched as a subcontractor parked, completely blocking my driveway with his truck and trailer. Then, he unloaded a small excavator, like this.

Then he DROVE OVER MY DRIVEWAY AND MY GRASS to get to the construction site. I went flying out the front door and yelled at him to stop, which he did.

"What's the problem?" he asked. Ignoramus.

I got a little crazy because between the guys eating their lunch on my driveway, plugging their power tools into my electrical ports, the roofers at 6:30am Saturday and Sunday morning, the port-o-potty, the garbage that flies everywhere, the displaced mice, ants and dogs and the pile of dirt and gravel that has collected at the bottom of our driveway, I had zero patience left for a torn up lawn and an ass.

"We fix it," he said. I silently cursed him and his shitty judgment. Shortly after that, a supervisor showed up to the site and sat in his truck. Coward.

Three hours later, my reasonable husband came home and I once again flew out of the house to tell him what happened. The guy was still working, the supervisor still idling and I wanted Dallas to handle the situation for me because my solution wasn't rational and involved blunt objects. Big surprise.

He did and nobody got hurt, however, the supervisor did admit that he'd been sitting in his truck for several hours, working up the nerve to knock on my front door. He'd been told that I was a little upset.

And a small, immature, petty, bitchy, side of me is secretly happy about that.

The End.

Mad Men Mania

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Tue, 16 Aug 2011 23:19:00 +0000

Last Christmas, I downloaded the first season of Mad Men to watch on the plane as we made our way down to New Zealand. I liked it but since I'd read rave reviews, I expected to be blown away and wasn't. Sure, the clothing and sets were scrumptious and from what I've read, they have captured that time on Madison Avenue perfectly but at the end of thirteen odd episodes, I had a take it or leave it attitude.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, I decided to stream a few episodes from the second season to see how the cliffhangers had been resolved and oh dear God, I drank the purple Koolaid. I was hooked. In fourteen days, between 9pm and 7am, I devoured 50 episodes (4 seasons). I'm obsessed. It's great tv.

I've only got two shows left of the fourth season and then I'm out of luck. No fifth season.

Yet.

Apparently, after prolonged contract negotiations between the series creator and the network, they are back to work filming new episodes. Makes me tingle with anticipation.

I know. I'm not well.

Stress Monster

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Thu, 11 Aug 2011 13:45:00 +0000

In career and in personal life, the greatest challenges are those things which are beyond one's control. I have found that no matter how carefully I plan or how meticulous I am with the details, there exists the possibility for something to shit the bed.

And that causes stress; giant, steaming, heaps of stress of the kind that interrupts sleep and makes eyes twitch.

For instance, as a new business, I had to cobble together my supply chain and once I got everything all sorted and allowed myself a moment to breath, BAM, the FDA rears their ugly, bloated, red tape enshrouded, head and decides to hold an urgent load. Murphy's Law. The more urgent the load, the slower bureaucracy moves. Period.

Frustrating.

Also, it seems that we have an issue every month at one of our rental houses. From roof leaks to air conditioner breakdowns, we've been shelling it out since the spring. I never imagined that life as a landlord would resemble that of a boat owner wherein the happiest memories are the day you buy and the day you sell. Unfortunately, we are among the millions of people in this country for whom houses have become albatrosses slung about the neck. We are just trying to hang in there until the market gets turned around. From what I can see, it looks like we could be waiting a LONG TIME.

Finally, there is the move. There are an incomprehensible number of things that need to be checked off the list before we depart in 7 weeks, give or take a few days. SEVEN WEEKS. What happens with something like this is that the best intentions get slaughtered in the face of easier routes. I was going to clean the house personally because a) I'm good at it and b) I'm cheap. Then, I took a look at what it would take to accomplish that and decided that a couple of hundred bucks is a small price to pay for my sanity. I'm going to hire people to do it instead.

Ah well. That's life, right?

I suppose but I can tell you that I am looking forward to being on the other side of it all, both mentally and geographically.

LAST DAY OF REBOOT

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Mon, 08 Aug 2011 15:13:00 +0000

Total pounds lost: 11.2

Now that we have reached the last day of this healthy kickstart, Dallas and I are not quite ready to give it up. We like the results. The two of us seem to function so much better when we are on some sort of a regimented plan. I am still amazed that fruit and vegetables, consumed mostly raw, could have this big an impact on mood and energy level. And weight loss? It has exceeded my expectations.

When I think back to the last time in my life when I was sustainably thin (defined as any period longer than one year), it was the period immediately before I had my children. I was living in San Diego, very physically active and a vegetarian. I can't say I was all that healthy, though. I still ate white bread, drank like a sailor and smoked but even with those vices, I felt better as a thin person. It isn't about vanity although, of course, I care about how I look. It's about sleeping well at night and having the energy to fully engage in life. It's about viewing the glass half full and visiting the doctor less.

We're not quite sure how the rest of the week is going to look as far as what we're going to eat. We will probably reintroduce animal protein back into the mix but I think we've said good bye to dairy for the most part. I'm not saying that a piece of cheese will never be on the plate again but we've decided to stay on this course. We are finding it easy to adhere.

This weekend, we went out to dinner with friends to a Mexican place. We had sparkling water and shared vegetable fajitas. Would I have rather have had a cocktail or three? Absolutely but Sunday morning, I woke up without a hangover, down a pound on the scale and full of the kind of energy I remember having as a teenager. So, at the end of the day, for me, there really isn't that much of a decision to make.

If you are interested, check out Joe Cross's film, "Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead". If you are interested in trying a fifteen day reboot of your own, go here for more information. You never know. It might be just what you've been looking for.

Day 11: HOLDING PATTERN

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Thu, 04 Aug 2011 15:46:00 +0000

Total pounds lost: 9.3

I've been stuck at roughly the same weight for the past couple of days, which, with any other diet, would have given my weak brain permission to throw in the towel and get myself some dark chocolate. It won't go down that way this time because, damn, I feel great!

The only thing I'm having a hard time managing is keeping the fruit and vegetables fresh. It's hard to buy once a week like we always have because herbs and leafy greens like kale and chard, wilt pretty quickly. Thus, we are forced to shop about every three days. It also costs a freaking fortune to juice two or more times a day but for a fifteen day reboot, we can suck it up.

This weekend, we've got a couple of social engagements that involve restaurants and alcohol. I'm a bit concerned. I'm not worried about cheating because frankly, I feel too good to bung it up but I am wondering what in the hell we will find to eat. I know that it's not the end of the world and if I had to go without, I would be just fine but the social part of eating is problematic. I want to go, order, draw minimal attention and just participate. Whether we can find something to eat is secondary. However, I've learned with my whole gluten issue that food challenges make other people uncomfortable. They either don't believe that the problem is real or they want to solve it. Either way, it just leads to awkward moments and I'd kind of like to slide under the radar and get through the weekend without being known as the high maintenance, teetotaling, vegan, celiac.

Or wackado, for short.

DAY NINE

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Tue, 02 Aug 2011 13:45:00 +0000

Pounds lost: 12.8 ounces (0.8)

Total pounds lost: 9

Dysplasic tumour: visibly smaller

The weight loss has slowed to just over half a pound a day, on average, which is a healthy rate of loss, I think and because I feel like a teenager, I've been doing a ton of research. It has made me realize how ignorant I am in regard to nutrition.

Over the past eight days, I've eaten yucca, kale, portobello mushroom caps, rainbow chard, red chard, jicama, collared greens, parsnips and arugula. They're delicious (except for the collared greens) and I am ashamed to admit that I avoided them like the plague for YEARS.

Why?

Well, mostly because they were never introduced into my childhood home and I never tasted them. I've always been pedestrian in my food preferences; sticking with those items, week after week, that were safe choices like carrots, peas and broccoli. Traveling the globe forced me to expand my palate somewhat but at the end of the day, I still bought the same things and served the same meals week after week.

That has changed forever.

I took a look in my pantry where massive containers of protein powders, vinegars laced with high fructose corn syrup, flour, refined sugar and processed coconut sat accusing me on the shelves. This weekend, I plan to purge my kitchen. I haven't gone off the deep end or anything. I will still drink wine. I will still indulge every now and again. I will still bake for holidays but I'm going to try my best to find healthier alternatives or fixes for our favourite recipes because I owe it to my children.

Used to be that I thought my cigarette habit was the worst thing I had ever done to myself for a prolonged period of time. As it turns out, smoking for 25 years doesn't hold a candle to the assault my body has suffered as a result of my eating and drinking habits. The good news is that it isn't too late. The body will heal itself.

"Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food"
— Hippocrates

DAY EIGHT- FEELING GROOVY

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Mon, 01 Aug 2011 12:36:00 +0000

Pounds lost over weekend: 2.2

Total Pounds Lost: 8.4

There is a magical moment in every woman's life that I experienced this weekend.

It wasn't watching my son clean his own toilet although that did bring me a certain amount of joy.

It wasn't having our air conditioner break AGAIN and have it fixed the same day after a really silly answering service girl asked me if this was "an emergency". Hmmm.... it's 105 degrees outside and has been for 25+ days. Let me think about that one for a minute. Yes, yes I do believe it was an emergency.

It wasn't getting out of Whole Foods for less than $300 with SIX huge bags of groceries, although I could have sworn that when I swiped my bank card, I could hear harps strumming.

My magical moment was realizing that my current diet is working. This latest juicing-veggie-eating-lifestyle IS WORKING. For real.

I feel ridiculously good. Crazy good. I have more energy than I've had in at least fifteen years. My mind is crystal clear. The peri-menopausal hot flashes are GONE. I am premenstrual right now and I have no chocolate cravings at all nor do I feel the urge to drive into the back of every crap driver on the road. It's a miracle. My nails are growing abnormally fast. My skin has changed in both clarity and in its ability to hold so much more moisture. I seem to require less sleep and when I wake up in the morning, I'm ready to start my day instead of feeling exhausted.

The weight loss is a bonus, albeit, a very, very desirable bonus.

I understand the choice to be vegan now. It used to be that I thought they were extremist, PETA-card-carrying, betacarotene-stained wackados. Shameful generalization, I know. But I get it now. If I can feel like this most days, it would be pretty hard to go back to my former lifestyle. I won't end up a vegan for several reasons but mainly because I think we need protein and fat from animal sources and I like meat. However, at the end of this fifteen days, I can say with absolute certainty that I will make plant based items the bulk of my diet.

You know, when we coughed up $150 for a juicer that will have to be sold in the next two months I felt indulgent and wasteful. Upon eight days of reflection, it is the single best purchase I've made in my life.

EVER.

DAY FIVE

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 11:27:00 +0000

Pounds lost: 1

Total pounds lost: 6.2

I woke up at the ass crack of dawn this morning after a later bedtime than usual and I feel GREAT.

I have known for several years now, that food can be either medicinal in nature or poisonous. Too often, I have been guilty of indulging to excess, my love of caffeine, alcohol, processed carbohydrates and a ravenous sweet tooth. I somehow thought that by kicking cigarettes four years, two months, 5 days and fifteen hours ago, I had made a huge health leap and didn't really have to pay that much attention to what went into my mouth because, by God, I wasn't going to die of lung cancer.

And then came the weight gain, the gluten intolerance, the near constant issues with dysplasia, the fatigue, the aches and pains, the foggy head, the insomnia, the panic attacks and the hallmarks of future disease in my blood work results.

I am forty four years old. By today's standards, I am young. I am not interested in living the next forty years or so in a sick and diseased body. I don't text and drive. I buy organic. I wear my seatbelt. I don't skydive, bungee jump or run with the bulls in Pamplona. I floss.

So why has it taken me so long to understand that consuming Frankenfood, with its artificial colors, its preservatives, its nitrates and its massive sugar content, is just as careless a behaviour as jumping off a bridge?

I like the way I feel today. I'd like to feel the same way tomorrow and the day after.

You know, my mother has been harping on me for the better part of two years to consume green smoothies and eat more raw food. She sent me books. It's the only negative in a sea of excellent....the fact that I am going to have to ring her up and tell her she was right.

AGAIN.

DAY FOUR

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Thu, 28 Jul 2011 16:42:00 +0000

Pounds lost: 3.2 ounces

Total pounds lost: 5.2

I woke up today and it was like the veil had lifted. The brain is functioning at 100%, which is such a relief. I feel sharp and alert. My energy level is right up there. I cannot believe that I haven't had a coffee, diet coke, cheese or chocolate since Sunday.

There is one weird thing, though. My hips are aching like they did when I carried my children. It's nothing that a few Advil won't cure but I'm just curious as to the cause since I know FOR SURE that I'm not pregnant.

Other than that, I am feeling so good that I am even contemplating going back to the gym and getting on the treadmill for twenty minutes of sprints. The kids and I are doing science experiments this afternoon which involve collecting water from a nearby pond. This means that we have to go outside and walk. It's blistering hot. Miserable.

And I can't wait.

There is something to be said for eating your veggies.

DAY THREE

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 15:49:00 +0000

Pounds lost: 2
Total pounds lost: 5

Things are better today. I still woke up with a headache that requires medication but it feels like the film that has covered my brain is starting to lift. I have more energy and I can bear the thought of my workload without wanting to run for the Xanax bottle.

I am still quite bitchy, though, which probably has nothing to do with the reboot and everything to do with my personality.

We still have not had a repairman to the house to fix the air conditioner and I feel like this is unacceptable. I understand that we are experiencing unprecedented temperatures and have been for nearly three weeks. I understand that the repairmen in the area are busy but if it were my tenants, they wouldn't have waited a day, let alone three. Just to be sure I wasn't being unreasonable (finding myself having to check that more often lately), I made two calls to two different repair places that I found in the telephone book. Both said they could have someone out today. So now, my dilemma is how to handle the situation like a rational person and not like the lunatic that I harbor inside just under the facade of good manners. My husband has taught through example, that the better choice is always to be reasonable and accommodating. The cerebral side knows that this is the right path, however, the emotional, angry, we-are-paying-a-ridiculous-amount-of-rent, side is fighting for self control.

I should probably go have a green juice and think about it.

DAY TWO

noreply@blogger.com (Beth) — Tue, 26 Jul 2011 13:15:00 +0000

Pounds lost: 3
(water weight from all the gin I drank this weekend but I'll take it because the beaches of Hawaii are looming and my fat, dimpled ass is...well...FAT AND DIMPLED)

I've had a headache since about 11:00am yesterday that needs medication every 4-6 hours.

Caffeine withdrawal.

I am bitchy.

I just want to crawl in bed and read except that now, I have to wear glasses, which pisses me off to no end. You cannot read with glasses on whilst laying on your side.

The food does taste good, which has been a revelation for me since I'm not really a vegetable girl but I also have to admit that I have fantasized about dark chocolate about five hundred and sixty two times today.

Obviously, I haven't gotten a lot done on the work side of things.

I am having trouble concentrating because I'd really like to just go have a nap. Did I already mention that?

Oh, and the upstairs air conditioner quit working. It's a million degrees outside.

Is this day over yet?