New for 2009

Well, I know I'm a little late, but I finally feel like it's a new year.

This would probably explain why I still had Christmas lights on my bushes up until last week.

I think the inauguration had to occur for me to feel like it was a fresh new year with a chance for a fresh new start. I have to admit that that Aretha's hat completely invigorated me.

I hit two huge milestones just this past week. I charted a 75 pound loss on the scale and I dropped under 200 pounds, ceremoniously entering into the 100s on the scale. This phenomenon is affectionately known in weight loss surgery (WLS) circles as "entering OneDerland."

Along with the adjustments that I've been making to my new habits and changing body, I've also been adjusting to homeschooling and have picked up a few new hobbies. Sweet girl and I have jumped headfirst into scrapbooking. She's much better at it than I am. I've also joined the Yelp community, and received an Elite designation for '09.

One of the good things to come out of the last year is a more reliable energy level. I hope that means that I will be able to write more, and more often. I kind of lost my mojo this past year, but like a loyal pet, the ol' blog was still here waiting for me when I returned from my long absence. I've straightened up the place a bit and added some new "baby" blogs ot my repertoire: My Kid's Krazy Krap and Cheaper than Marriage Counseling. You're welcome to check those out if you'd like using the links on the right.

SO . . . onward and upward, and oh yeah, Happy New Year!

The energy crisis

(I had to resurrect this post from December of 05. I guess I have been tired for longer than I thought, although I'm actually beginning to feel better, and I have a bit more energy than I did when I initially wrote this. Maybe I have been ill longer than I knew.

It's also interesting to note that of the 15-odd comments that were posted then, only one or two blogs are still in existence. It's an interesting, fluid place, this land of Blog. I still appreciate all of the kindness and friendship, whether old, new, short-lived, or ever-present.)

I was thinking about blogs yesterday.

I thought about the amount of time I spend reading blogs.

I thought about the amount of time I have spent creating my own.

I wondered why. Why am I drawn to this medium? Why do I feel compelled to read new entries by people I have never met? What makes me feel compelled to write entries for people to read that have no idea who I am?

I think it has finally dawned on me. I am so tired, blogging is the only way I can connect with people without having to expend alot of energy. Energy that I just don't have anymore.

There was a time when I had friends . . . real friends. I don't have any anymore. My friendships have all died, like untended houseplants. If I had made more of an effort, if I had only had more energy, I might have been able to salvage some of my friendships.

But that was the point, really. All of my friendships seemed to be incredibly labor-intensive for me. Exerting energy was what had sustained them. As soon as I stopped trying, they all faded away.

But were they really that draining? Was it really that hard to maintain friendships with real people? Was it just that I grew too tired to try anymore? Or was it that I had somehow managed to pick really needy friends?

It's strange to think about. I faded away from the reality of friends that I had known for years, and really, none of them has ever come looking for me.

I'm not angry about it. Maybe they have to conserve their energy, too.

Having limited energy is something I never really thought about before. As I get older, I find that it hits my consciousness alot. I tend to arrange my life according to how much energy I have to expend. For instance, I grocery shop in a way that covers the store in the shortest distance without any backtracking over areas that I have been before. It is a pattern that I took the time to mentally arrange. I shop at a store that unloads your cart at the register and carries the groceries to your car for you. I made this decision because it meant that I only had to pick up the groceries twice: once from the shelf, and once from the car, versus 4 times: once from the shelf, once from the cart onto the belt, once from the buggy into the car, and once from the car to the kitchen.

I sold a small, two story house and bought a larger, more expensive one story house primarily because the energy I had to expend going up and down the stairs was too much for me. Granted, we were growing out of the house, but when we were looking for a new house, I would only look at ranches, no exception. That decision was governed by my energy level, or lack thereof.

When I was younger, energy seemed endless. I never worried about how far out I parked my car, or how long a day I had, or how much sleep I missed over a weekend, or how much work I was facing, or what kind of support my friends needed from me. I just lived, and whatever came along, I handled it. In most cases, I went overboard, multitasking, slaying dragons right and left and all the while keeping up with everything swirling around me.

I find I can't do that anymore. I can't keep my house clean. I can't keep my laundry caught up. I can't manage to keep piles of neglected paperwork from forming all around my desk. I can't seem to summon the will to go to the park with my kids.

These days, I won't accept a job unless I can work at home.

I don't invite family and friends for dinner anymore. My house used to be the gathering spot for my whole family, friends too. I would whip up beautiful dinners, effortlessly, and run through my house like a tornado, making sure everything was clean and comfortable. It was something that I really enjoyed doing, and slowly, slowly, so slow I didn't realize it was happening, I became worn down and no longer had the energy or the desire it took to organize things like that.

I can't fathom how I am going to continue to be productive for the next 20 years, raising my kids and delivering what will be expected of me.

I don't know how much longer I can count on my body to last. And that is a scary thought. I never, never thought I would be this tired, this sore, this slow this young.

Sometimes, I find things that help. A hot bath, a nap, painkillers, caffeine. Short-lived respite. They help me cope for the moment.

So, dear blogger friends, I want to say, after all of this, that I appreciate you. You give me friendship in the only way that I can seemingly cope with it - virtually, delivered to my lap, without having to try very hard to be allowed into your lives, or welcome you into mine.

You all mean more than you will ever know.

In Memorium (again) . . . Bye, Jack

I am immensely saddened by the loss (again) of my blogging idol, Jack. His blog, Texas Music, was a daily stop for me. Jack's blog was filled with some of the best writing I have had the pleasure to stumble across in this vast wasteland. His stories of drug busts, and victory and agony on the mean streets brought some of his reality into my quiet little space, far removed from the gritty underbelly that he willingly crawled into, day after day.

Jack left once before, and when he did, I posted an old chestnut that I wrote way, way back in June of 2004 (that is an ETERNITY in blogland.) In honor of the passing of Texas Music, I would like to post it yet again. Feels like the right thing to do.

Just a housekeeping note: I will sorrowfully remove Jack's link (again) from my Favorites list, and add a few new little spaces that I enjoy visiting pretty regularly. It's a bittersweet change, but I think that Fred Sanford (portrayed by the inimitable Redd Foxx) explained it best when he tearfully called up to his dearly departed wife, Elizabeth, on the eve of his marriage to his long-suffering girlfriend, Donna, "Honey, she could never take your place, but I just miss you so bad, and I'm so lonely, I just needed to fill your space."

Preach on, Fred.

Thanks for everything you posted, Jack. You will be sorely missed.

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If you lived in a friendly neighborhood for awhile, and made good friends with the neighbors, you would say goodbye if you moved away, right?

Not so in the world of Blog.

Reading the thoughts of another creates a very strange intimacy, and whether it is "real" or not, a friendship. I have a list of blogs that I am quite fond of. Over time, I have begun to build and actually feel a sense of community with my fellow bloggers, those that I visit every week.

Come to think of it, making my rounds of my favorite blogs is a lot like taking an evening stroll around my neighborhood. Checking in with frequently updated blogs is kind of like passing a busy house with kids in the yard, flowers on the porch, and someone giving you a friendly wave. You can stop, listen to what they have to say - happy or sad, offer up your own little impressions, and move on, secure in the knowledge that the friendship is solid. Occasionally, you might notice that someone has completed some bloggy home improvements, and you can cast an appreciative glance from your vantage point on the virtual sidewalk, maybe by leaving a comment like "Hey! Nice template change! Easier to read, and the colors are great!"

Sometimes, you pass a blog and realize that you haven't seen much change there for the past few weeks. As a matter of fact, the comments left by other passersby are like so many virtual soggy newspapers littering the driveway, and you figure your friend must be on an extended vacation. You pass by, day after day, not expecting to see them back and then one day you are pleased to see that all the newspapers are cleaned up, the lights are on, and they have, indeed, returned. More times than not, you are immediately given a guilt-ridden explanation of their absence, and maybe hear a little about their travels, see a few snapshots.

Again, everything is back in order.

Then there are those times that you walk toward a well-loved blog home and are shocked to see broken blinds dangling in dark, lifeless windows; the front door has been carelessly left wide open, revealing an empty shell where your friend once dwelled. And you think to yourself: what? no goodbye? after all of the time we spent sharing thoughts and experiences, they could just leave in the night and not say a word?

So, with a startling mixture of emotions (disappointment, rejection and ill-placed anger), you make a mental note not to bother to stop there anymore, and begin to wonder hopelessly if it is worth it to bother getting to know the neighbors at all. But then, in the midst of your thoughts, you spot a sign that you hadn't noticed before, and wonder who lives on "Next Blog" street. Allowing your customary path to be diverted, you decide to "just take a look" and inevitably see a moving truck parked at a house down the block, moving a new occupant in who seems to be both lost and eager to meet you all at once, and you think to yourself: I wonder what his story is?

And so it goes . . .