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Monday, June 5, 2023

Calvin 3.14.17 - 5.15.23



 Dear Cal,

Last Saturday was perfect weather for an outing, and hundreds of friends and family showed up to celebrate your life. I sat on the sidelines early in the morning watching so many people show up and work hard putting together a carnival for you. Remember when we would take Alan for horseback riding? Well, the man who came to give you the mohawk haircut is part of the same family, and they donated their ranch to hold the celebration for you. It's in the hills just to the North of us and you would have loved it there. Volunteers from Church, and the softball league, from both Mom and Dad's work, and their closest friends pulled together this miracle just for you. So much love and hard work for one little boy.

There were bounce houses, face & rock painting (of course Alan's rock was the best) and some made bracelets for anyone to make and take home with them.  We kept the rocks and may be going to spread them around the parks in town where you spent so much time, but we'll see.

Pastor D spoke in front of the crowd, and said so many wonderful things about you, and then everyone visited and it was time for lunch. Tacos and hot dogs, chocolate cupcakes, lemonade, and a truck making snow cones and I know you would have loved those. 

Standing in the middle of the ranch, and looking out over the hills it was so peaceful it soothed my heart for a moment, and I will always remember that. There were horses peeking through the fences at all the people, and it was nice to pat their noses and say hi. But still, our hearts were breaking along with so many others. Johnny was there with his parents and his new baby sister Josie; they are missing you so much.

I don't know yet how we are going to get on without you here laughing and running and yelling at Alan. But eventually we will, and as your Mom says, we will take  you with us where ever we go. 

Thank you for bringing so much joy into my life. Love always, Grama


Tuesday, January 3, 2023

RBRZ: Pierce Perfectionism

 In Reboot Rezoom there will be 66 daily videos. Because that is how long it takes to create a new habit. Today's video was about releasing the need to be perfect. And it makes sense, if we don't expect to be perfect then when we aren't it's just back to business as usual instead of a great crash and burn. 

It's one of the good tools, or attitudes, that I have adopted on this BLE journey; to rebound quickly without beating up on myself. The first day of January I was up in the middle of the night finishing the last piece of pie. It had been tormenting me all day, the white bakery box sitting on the stove, knowing there was no one else who wanted it but me. There was no fight, I didn't even try to reason with the part of me who was getting the pie, I had just known all day that if the pie was still there I was going to eat it. Not a decision or definite thought or plan, just a deep seeded knowing that this was how the day could end; me with pie in my face. Literally.

The next day was barely better, my evening "4th meal" being a PB sandwich on sprouted whole grain bread. So no flour or sugar, but I was still sad. One minute I was lying in bed feeling grateful for the lightness of my stomach and that I would have healing time during the night. Dinner had been at 4pm and I wouldn't break my fast until the next morning at 8am. But no, I had to get out of bed and make myself a snack about 10pm when I couldn't sleep or get comfortable because of the pain in my hip and leg. 

I'm feeling stronger today mentally. Had a small bowl of potato chips before dinner, but I think I will be fine tonight. I have a book to listen to, and a MMG to meet with in just a few minutes. And my daughter is on a mission; between decluttering around the house and making good food choices she is currently a force of nature I will gladly orbit around.

Off to my meeting. Good night to a good day.


Monday, January 2, 2023

RBRZ: It's just a Picture

 I grew up around pictures, with access to albums of photos taken by my grandfather, and lived next door to him where there was a photography studio on the 3rd floor of his house. My grandmother's house too, not just his, but he was the one who was all about photography. I think 30 years of pictures for House Beautiful, now showcased at the Huntington Library in LA, has always been a source of pride for me. And I remember being a young child, happy to be in front of his camera, happy to be spending time with him and feeling important because of his attention.

So why the life long aversion to being in pictures? When did it start? There are a couple of things that come to mind. An unflattering (to my eyes) photo of myself in an Ad that showed what a tomboy I was. No where was the feminine creature I thought girls should be. I must have been about 11, and I think I remember the photoshoot, and being happy, and the let down when I saw the picture. Back then digital wasn't even on the horizon, and I didn't see the results until he brought a pamphlet home with the picture. Me standing on a beautiful lush round lawn of green, looking for all the world like a dorky preteen. Even now remembering back, it's hard to find love for that young girl.

And then it occurs to me to look at this again, through the eyes of a child who has been molested, and is trying to look unappealing. Was I old enough at 11 to have put up a defense of appearance? It must have been around the same time; the memory of dancing naked on the bed and someone, my mother?, opening the bedroom door and telling us to put our clothes on. And then the separating of bedrooms, my brother next door and us girls rooming together. Of course the door between the rooms was a beautiful wood sliding door with no lock, so that must have been effective. (sarcasm?)  Anyway, most of my memories of molestation are from Summers at the lake.

Summers at the lake, I lived for them, and along with the bad stuff, there was so much good that maybe I just became really good at burying the bad. Because to lose one would be to lose the other?  Swimming, skiing, volleyball, and most of all the sailing, these were my joys. Lying in the sun, listening to the clink of the chains that moored the dock to the beach, these are the memories that give me comfort, this is one of the places I can go to meditate, the wind whispering to me from the tall tops of the pine trees. I could cry for missing these things.

But somewhere in there I began hiding from the camera. I remember standing in front of the tall mirror on the back of the bathroom door and admiring my form, my tan lines, my flat stomach. And then a memory of being back in the city, and standing on my mother's scale, and being appalled that I was 135 pounds. Hindsight being what it is I know that I was trim and athletic, full of lean muscle from always being outdoors, but at the time my perspective was not clear nor compassionate. How many of us looked a Twiggy and knew we would never be...good enough?

But I keep straying from where I wanted to go this morning, why the aversion to pictures? Because our first instructions in the BLE Reboot Rezoom include taking a picture of where we are when starting the class. And my rebel was in front and center asking why. And sort of nudging her aside is the part of me that wants to do this right, that wants to follow the coach whom I admire and respect. So even if it's kicking and screaming I am going to do it. Well, I am going to try, because the rebel may be winning this one. But I want to know why, I want to know the part of me who hates, yes hates, being in front of the camera.

Because I don't yet love myself? Because I am continually disappointed? Because I don't want a record of my failures, real or perceived?

It's going to be a long fucking day.

Sunday, January 1, 2023

BLE: Reboot Rezoom (RBRZ)

 It's such a bright day after raining cats and dogs yesterday, the sun a shining testimonial to the hopes many of us have for the new year. No resolutions, no goals, just day to day practicing the pause between thoughts and actions. I am not what I think, I am what I eat, and I will eat bright.

Started the morning with Cal, making first his breakfast and then mine, and then watching Dance Monsters cuddled on the cough together. Truly an act of love watching that with him, lol. 

Sorry to see the last of the ham go, ham on toast is a wonderful breakfast, but eager to move on to 'healthier' choices.

Just signed on to join the reboot rezoom facebook page for Bright Line Eating. While I don't feel the old manic feeling, I do feel hopeful that I will follow through this time. Just for today. I think that is the power I need to embrace, that like any addict I just need to do this one day at a time.

So happy new year. I'm embracing the calm and hopefulness that I feel in the day's energy; I love it when you can ride a global emotional tide.

Time to do some stretching, get dressed, and then maybe do some colouring.

Sunday, December 18, 2022

BLE and the Baking Debrief

 Waking up knowing  you've had a bright day, and that your food is planned to have another one, gives a sense of solidarity of purpose, a confidence that one day I will be in my bright body.

Yesterday went swimmingly. I did no baking, but kept the dishes caught up between batches, and perched on the corner of the living room couch (a usual place, not a pre-meditated one) in case there was anything I could do to help. But they had everything handled, and aside from one scraping of hot caramel while R held the bowl there wasn't really anything for me to do. Which was good, because shopping is still rather exhausting.

The win for the day was the calm I experienced. Not feeling like I should be helping more, no food chatter in my brain about what I would or would not eat of the many treats on the list. Just calm. And gratitude, so grateful to feel a part of the chaos.  The need to control anything that happens in this house has been fading since the decision to move South. I really feel it is their home now, and my sense of ownership is just a small piece of bedrock in the back of my mind.

When my BLE brain in onboard, it's an easy thing. I don't feel the energy of my food controller, telling me what I won't do, and I hear nothing from my indulger, their constant whispering about what I will do simply silenced. I just felt like my own true self; enjoying family, the cozy home we share, and the banter amongst us a great comfort. I will miss these things when I go, and it will be up to me to create that atmosphere with Mom.

Pozole. The instant pot soup I made yesterday wasn't really Pozole, it was more just pork soup with hominy. Next time I will make it the day before so I can remove some of the fat from the broth, but it was delicious. and before I measure out today's lunch from the leftovers I will remove what fat I can. 

Recipe: Sauté in the instant pot on medium three small yellow onions and one large Pasillo pepper in a small amount of avocado oil until the onion is translucent. Add one quart of chicken stock and scrap up any brown bits, then sprinkle dried oregano across the broth in one light layer. (No, I didn't measure.) Stir and keep on sauté while cutting up the boneless pork shoulder. It was a large roast, and I trimmed off the thick cap of fat before cutting it into about eight large chunks. Add carefully to onion mixture, seal lid of instant pot, and set for 90 minutes (or 1:30).  Natural release for 30 minutes before releasing the pressure.

Open the pot and remove the tender meat, setting aside into a casserole dish to keep warm. Add 2 large cans of hominy to the pot, some chili powder and cumin then give a nice stir. Start adding back the meat to the pot, removing the most obvious chunks of fat that have separated from the meat. Another gentle stir, reseal the lid, and set to warm.

This was easy to pull out and measure first the meat, and then the hominy, and finally the broth. The last 2 ounces of veg was fresh green cabbage sliced up on top. The kids ate theirs later with servings of the white Jasmine rice I had made.  The soup was so good, but next time I want to make a real Pozole with chilies. Today I'll make Spanish rice with those leftovers and pack it up with spicy refried beans for some instant breakfasts.

It's so lovely to be in a positive mood, to know my bright breakfast is just minutes away, and to admire the grey morning outside my window; the neighborhood decorated with frost on the rooftops and lawns all the way down the block and onto the wild expanse of weeds and bare-branched trees that was once a golf course. Thank heavens for our small cozy home.

Saturday, December 17, 2022

BLE and Christmas Baking

 This morning I am up and dressed and ready to go shopping. The family has chosen four recipes to make today to fill the plates, bags, or tins that we will fill to give out to friends and neighbors and I have volunteered to go pick up ingredients. I have very mixed feelings about this, and part of me wants to just drive away and not have anything to do with it.

    Why put temptation in front of myself?
    Why give treats that are potentially poisonous to a friend of neighbor?
    Why model behavior to my family that no longer feels appropriate?

All good questions that have been asked a multitude of times in the BLE FB group. And I know that the right thing to do would be to suggest a different way to celebrate. Make gifts that aren't edible? Have small parties where we play games and have fun sparkly drinks that don't involve sugar? Make a hiking date with a photo competition?  I would love any of these; well not so much the hiking right now with my health. But if I can so clearly see a different path, why can I not even suggest taking it?

Because my grandson is excited about the baking, because my daughter has a list of friends and family they want to bake for as a way to celebrate. Because my desire to belong to the pack is so much stronger than my will to take care of myself and ultimately them and the friends and family with which they wish to celebrate.

I'm re-listening to Rezoom by SPT, and this scenario fits so many of the criteria on why food is an addiction. We have the social cues, those of the season, and the pressures of tradition. To bake something out of love and share it to celebrate with friends and family didn't use to be so controversial. But there is no comparing today with how we celebrated 50 or 100 years ago. The 'food' environment has changed so drastically, and that is not something I wish to entrench myself in today.

God, I have become so cynical.

There is a part of me that wants to help today, to decorate, to laugh with my family and create something out of love. And deep down my own true self says this is not a bad thing. I think it is my food controller that is scared of where this might lead, and my indulger who is excited about the prospect. And I am the one who needs to 'drive this bus', not them. It's up to  me to experience the joy and celebration without letting it devolve into sneaking treats in the middle of the night. Thank heavens most of it will be packed up for gifts.

I think that maybe next year I can suggest an alternative plan earlier on, and then I remember I won't be here next year. I will be down South with my Mother. And my brain says this is the real reason to bake today, because it will probably be the last time, and all of a sudden I am sad and needing to go put my shoes on and get busy.

I will enjoy today for all it means to be together, not for what may or may not be eaten at the end of it. This I can promise myself.

Tuesday, December 13, 2022

Christmas memory

 In the photograph I am sitting in front of our Christmas tree, wearing a beautiful white dress and holding my brand new Barbie. I am the middle child, my little sister on my left similarly attired and our older brother sits to my right. It's a Norman Rockwell moment, and it's not surprising that it was captured on film. My grandfather was an amazing photographer and there are many such memories in the albums at my mother's house. This one is held in my memories, clear as can be, and cherished for it's innocence. Love, family, Christmas, what more could one want? I must have been around 7 years old, and I convince myself that I am not just remembering the picture, but the actual moment it was taken. So secure with my place in the world, and unaware of the darkness that was on the horizon.

I sat down this morning prompted to write by the little Christmas tree that sits by my desk.  Maybe 8" high and mounted in a small burlap sack it is about as far as you can get from a real tree. Yet it invokes in me the feeling of Christmas, and I am grateful for this much needed season of good will, and joy. I have been very fortunate in the past couple of months to have a safe, warm, home to recover in, and a loving daughter to care for me. And each day I feel stronger and better prepared to face the world. Well, not the big one, but the small one I have created for myself.

I'm not sure where I am going with this, or why I am remembering that moment from my childhood, but I am inspired to take a picture of my grandchildren in front of the tree that is currently glowing merry and bright in the living room.

'Tis the Season. May we only remember what is good, and celebrate the wonderfulness of the here and now.