I forgot -- I think C's racist remark must have been some random thing she overheard and was repeating. I was quizzing her the other day about boys in her class -- just asking if there were any boys she played with and whether or not any of them were nice -- that type of thing. She said, "Yes, there is one boy M. I like him -- he's very nice. I play with him". M is just as dark-skinned as L, so whew! I feel much relieved.
I kind of enjoyed golfing. On Sunday, we finally used the free night and 18 holes of golf I won last winter at the golf show. The weather couldn't have been more perfect, and I made it 14 holes before I was too footsore to go on...not to mention the blister I was getting. I looked very cool in my snazzy red golf shoes and new golf glove, so that's something.
Because I am a total beginner, I walked and swung A LOT. My score on the front nine was 90. It would have been higher had T not let me take my ball out of a sand trap and carry it over a brook. I did sink one 40-foot putt on a hole that was a par 3 (I got a 4!). That didn't really make up for the 12-stroke holes, but T was a patient companion and it wasn't nearly as torturous as bowling. I'm going to try and take some lessons through community ed next spring.
I was feeling more anxiety and resentment than I thought about T leaving for a week to attend a cousin's wedding out of state. I ate too much at dinner on Sunday night, in spite of the fact that the food wasn't really very good. Then I had a major, major relapse on Monday. For the first time in a really, really long time I actually went out to get food to binge on -- twice in the same day. I walked the dog a mile or so down the road in the afternoon and had an ice cream cone (only a single but I wasn't at all hungry since I'd just eaten several single serving bags of cookies and chips at home). Later in the evening when I took R to cheerleading, I drove over to a store and bought another single cone and ate that! I was so angry and upset with myself because I KNEW exactly what I was doing and why I was doing it, yet I still did it. I kept telling myself to stop -- that I could stop -- that I needed to stop -- but I didn't stop until the second ice cream. By that time I felt kinda yucky.
Boy, did I pay for my behavior on Tuesday. I woke up at 3am with a splitting headache. I got the girls off to school and started for work, but turned around and went home because I felt nauseated and was having ....er, digestive issues. My bathroom and I spent a lot of quality time together Tuesday morning, and I crawled back into bed until 11:15. I slept terribly Tuesday night and the headache lasted until Wednesday evening. This episode made me realize why programs like OA work. My behavior is similar to that of an alcoholic. I knew the food had made me sick, and on Tuesday I thought "Yep -- the memory of this is going to be enough that I will never do this again!" yet I still binged again on Wednesday night. I stopped very soon after starting (because I didn't want to repeat Tuesday again!) but the very fact that I started at all amazes me. Sometimes I despair that I will live this cycle over and over again for the rest of my life.
I have always considered myself a person who is pretty colorblind when it comes to race. I don't remember my parents coming right out and saying that all people are the same under the skin, but they definitely lived it. We had an African-American foster child for four years and would have adopted her had my mom's best friend not adopted her instead (they were Af-Am and insisted to my mom that it would be better for them to have her). My very fist kiss at age 17 was with an exchange student from Mexico. After I went off to college I had serious romantic relationships with a guy who was African-American and one who was a Mexican citizen. I've had many non-white friends -- and family members -- over the years....anyway, I suppose the point I want to get across is that my children have never, ever heard a racist comment or joke at home, and would never have picked up any kind of racist attitude.
At the dinner table the other night, I was asking C how school is going and if she was making any new friends. She announced, "L is not my friend" and when I asked why not, she said, "Because, you know, she has dark skin and I don't like people with dark skin." I'm pretty sure my eyes bugged right out of my head. When I questioned her further, she said that touching her skin hurt her. I tried to tell her that was utter nonsense and that L was exactly the same kind of little girl she was, etc. etc., but she was having none of it. I brought up the fact that her aunt has darker skin than we do, as do her uncle and cousins, and her sister's godmother. She wasn't budging. She can never be friends with L because she just doesn't like people with dark skin. I was completely and totally at a loss as to what to say! I finally lamely said that I hoped she would never say anything like that to L because it would hurt her feelings. I'm completely baffled.
The home tour in Marshall was quite nice. This was a windowbox display one Tudor style house had -- isn't it cute? Why can't I ever think of decorating ideas like that?!?
We stopped at Turkeyville on the way home and I was soooo hungry by then I'd have eaten pretty much anything. After I finished my turkey dinner, R and I checked out the gift shop and the ice cream flavors. She's been dying to get a double waffle cone forever and T will never let her, so I said it was okay. It was GIGANTIC and I said, "Oh, what the heck. Give me one too!" When we go out for ice cream, I usually get a baby cone or a kid cone, eat it all, and feel vaguely deprived. If the kids don't finish theirs, I finish it off for them -- and wish I had more. On Saturday, I finished my waffle cone -- which wasn't that great -- and R wasn't even halfway done before she gave it to me. She said, "I'm not really full -- I'm just sick of it". I thought, "How can you ever get sick of ice cream?!?" and took a few licks. Then I realized I was not only quite full, but I was also sick of it. Imagine that. I was sick of ice cream. Maybe that happens all the time to other people, but I'm pretty sure it hasn't ever happened to me before.
I had another moment of ....clarity?....last week when I went out to dinner with a friend. I realized when I had a few bites of meat loaf and half my squash left that I really didn't want it anymore. Okay... I ate it anyway. However, I did have the realization that I'd had enough, not because I was too full, but simply because I'd had enough. I have always wondered what in the heck those who write about intuitive eating are talking about when they discuss knowing when you're satisfied. Last week I actually felt it.
My kids are at school and I have nothing to do until I have to go to the bowling alley at 3pm. I need to pre-bowl for Sunday's league games because I'm going on the home tour in Marshall on Sunday with my dad and R. I think we'll make a stop in Turkeyville too. I love that place!
I feel at loose ends. Not because I have nothing to do -- I have PLENTY to do. I just feel very restless. I came home from dropping the kids at school and immediately made no-bake cookies. After finishing the cookies I drove off to buy a new oven/stove because mine died last weekend. Annoying (so dang expensive!) but I wasn't too broken up about it because my old one was crap. We'll have to postpone putting in a new slider to our upstairs deck, but oh well. Anyway, I digress. As I was driving to the appliance store, I was ruminating on why I can so often be found in the kitchen either cooking, baking, or cleaning it (which is actually T's job) when I am at loose ends.
I think I'm following a pattern set by my mom (mom #2 who died almost exactly a year ago). She could often be found in the kitchen baking during her free time. She made everything from scratch including bread, and was a really good cook. She wasn't good at saying "I love you" or hugging, but she expressed her love with food. She always showered us with homemade goodies at Christmastime, and went all out when having us over for holiday meals. A couple of years ago for Christmas dinner she actually made her own crackers to go with the first course of homemade soup! When she and my dad came daily to care for me after I broke my leg, she spent almost all of her time in the kitchen. She made us homemade cinnamon rolls, dinner rolls, cookies, cake....we could have opened a bed and breakfast. I don't know if I like to bake because I feel as though I'm caring for my loved ones by doing so or because it brings me memories of a warm kitchen and feeling loved myself. I just feel that strong pull to be in the kitchen.
The oven broke two days after I discovered that I'd neglected to record our mortgage payment for August. I only discovered that when I got an overdraft notice from the bank. Luckily, only one check came in while I had insufficient funds and they transferred money from our savings to cover it (for $5!). It was still rather panic-inducing to find that I had $1500 less than I thought I had.
Last weekend T and I pre-bowled for the Sunday when he'll be out of state at a family wedding, and I bowled a new low. 27. Yes -- 27....and with my new hello kitty ball too. After that first stunning score, I went on to bowl a 72 and a 77. Yes, it is definitely going to be another year of mortification at the bowling alley. We took the girls to the driving range on Saturday to see if I could still golf after breaking my leg. T wasn't sure my knee could take the twisting motion and the strain of having all of my weight on it at the end of a swing. I did okay, though I think I definitely hit the ball farther pre-broken leg. I took the girls mini-golfing on Monday and judging by my putting performance there, 18 holes of golf will take me several hours. I won 18 holes of golf and an overnight stay at a hotel last spring and we're going off to enjoy it on September 16/17. It will be the first time I've actually golfed an entire game by myself (I shared a club in a scramble once).
My eating has been so-so. I've had a few days when I really overate -- a few "almost" binges. Most days I've eaten around 1800 calories, but some days I'm really hungry much of the day. That depresses me because I know I can't go around hungry for the rest of my life just to weigh less. The thing is, I can't remember if that's just the way it is when I'm smaller or if this is a new thing. Oh, I remember that when I was below 140 pounds I was hungry most of the time, but at 150 or so? I just can't remember. I know I definitely was always rabidly hungry by lunchtime because I ate a bowl of All Bran Extra Fiber or Fiber One cereal and milk and then forced myself not to each anything else until lunchtime. The rest of the day isn't so clear. Sigh. I guess I'll keep on going for now and see what happens. I'm not eating 100% NS food. I found that I got some horrible headaches when I ate 3 meals of NS food for a few days in a row. That's a bit scary. As long as I stick to one or two, I'm okay. So I've been having a lot of salads with shredded turkey or chicken for lunch in place of NS food. Now I have about 15 cups of soup to deal with. I suppose I'll eat them eventually.