Yea Me!

The above title should be well known to those of you who have children who watch Disney Channel, mainly "The Suite Life of Zack and Cody." The one character, London Tipton (a Disneyfied version of Paris Hilton) often exclaims "Yea me!" when something goes her way (which is often, since she's a rich hotel heiress).

Anyway, I've been exclaiming it today as I show off my counted cross stitch masterpiece, which took several months of work to complete (not to mention I did several little projects in that time, too). I actually bought this pattern WAY back in 1993, stitched the littlest plate and two of the oranges, then gave up when life got too hectic. This is definitely the largest counted cross stitch pattern I've ever done (it fits in an 11x14 inch frame) and by far the most intricate. It gives me such a sense of accomplishment to see this finished, to know that I made every single stitch and that it all came together into such a beautiful picture.

Hubby actually seemed a little disappointed when I told him I wanted to hang it in my office at work; he wanted to hang it in our kitchen. But I have some other pieces (including the artichoke I displayed here back in July) that I'd like to hang in there instead.

Still not a lot to write about. Tonight we're going out for my BIL's birthday to a Mexican restaurant that just opened in a nearby town. It's part of a small chain of restaurants that we already like a lot, so I'm looking forward to ordering my new favorite dish of theirs-- a shrimp chimichanga.

Otherwise, Mabel's feeling better, which is a relief because I don't have to find a babysitter for her while we go out, or worse, stay home with her and not get to go out at all.

Maybe tomorrow I'll have more to ruminate on. Hope everyone's having a good weekend.

Happy Jonimas!

Happy Jonimas! My fellow Joni Mitchell devotee and friend SS reminded me that yesterday was her birthday, and we always like to celebrate one of our favorite artists. In honor of this special day I listened to two of her albums on my MP3 player-- For The Roses and her live album, Miles of Aisles -- while cross-stitching during Mabel's gymnastics class.

This was a good thing to do, because yesterday afternoon I got horribly irritable, and I could feel the urge to binge creeping in like cold air seeping into the cracks of a house. Music does have a calming affect on me, as well as doing needlework, and it helped me to avoid eating yet allow me to focus on what was bothering me.

I will say that one song in particular really hit home: Lessons in Survival. But that's a whole therapy session in itself there...

What I did manage to sort out were the feelings that were affecting me that evening. First of all, my back was hurting me off and on all day and was really starting to ache by late afternoon. That by itself is a logical cause of my irritability. But the real problem was feeling overwhelmed: I've dug in deeply to this Room of Doom project and making real progress. My book shelves are looking great and I managed to organize my large collection of greeting cards (I suppose that sounds odd, but my late grandmother was an avid card sender and always had a stockpile for every occasion. And guess who inherited it? Yeah, me.) But now I'm getting to the hard part; sorting through my husband's and my own miscellaneous papers and other office doodads and figuring out what to do with them all: file them, store them or throw them away. I feel a lot of uncertainty about Hubby's stuff (I have a difficult time getting him to file, organize or throw away anything, and if I go ahead and do it for him, I worry I'll do something wrong), and the piles are so big that I don't even know where to begin.

I found myself facing a similar situation last night with the counted cross stitch project I've been working on since August. I am finally getting close to completing this larger-sized, somewhat intricate picture, yet last night I had that same feeling of being overwhelmed and not knowing where to start. I finally made myself minimize my focus and just pick one color of thread and deal with that and not think about the rest. By changing my perspective, concentrating on a small amount of stitches instead of letting myself get overwhelmed by all the ones that need to be done, it was much easier to deal with and lessened my trepidations.

As I was getting into the groove and enjoying myself again, I realized I need to do the same thing with the Room of Doom, as well as the rest of my life. I see that this has to do with my perfectionism: I fret so much about doing something right that I either get irritable and fret about doing it wrong or wind up not doing it at all. I've seen this kind of procrastination a lot in my family and can recognize it in myself. Instead of getting overwhelmed, frustrated and apprehensive about the big things or what's going to happen in the future, I need to redirect myself and focus on the Now -- i.e., conscious living.

While I was still a little irritable when I got home last night, at least I knew why, and I didn't turn to food to make myself feel better. I used my shiatsu massager to loosen up my back, laid down on my heating pad and went to bed early. This morning my back is still a little tender, but better, and I'm prepared to tackle that stack of papers this afternoon a little bit at a time.

Horsing Around

This weekend was busy, but not in a greatly productive way. You could say I was horsing around.

Friday night Mabel had two friends, sisters, spend the night. They got along very well, no fighting or naughty shenanigans, and they even got to bed at a decent hour (midnight!).

We had an invitation to go out for wings that evening, too, but this sleepover had been planned well in advance. So instead of hanging out with the gang, we ate pizza, and the girls played Monopoly, sang High School Musical and Hannah Montana songs. I spent the evening subtly keeping an eye on them while I did my counted cross stitch.

The next morning I took the three girls out to my mom's place to see all the animals (yes, those are my mom's horses above). She's got a whole menagerie of horses, a pony, a sheep, two burros, goats, chickens, cats and dogs. The girls had a ball petting, and feeding the different critters and even rode the pony.

This visit felt like forever to me (I know, I'm a jaded "been there, done that" girl) and I brought along my newspapers and caught up on the news. But eventually we made it back home, and the girls' mom came and picked them up. I managed to get some more cross stitching done, and I finished this little project for my friend's birthday. This is a great weekend project and comes with the matting and glass with clips. It makes a great present for friends or family, especially those who appreciate "home made" gifts.

Saturday evening Mabel had to cheer at a game, and what a difference it was from the weekend before! At the Sept. 8 game we were fighting for a seat in the shade, and someone actually was dealing with the first stages of heat stroke. On Sept. 15 we wore coats, hats, gloves and snuggled in fuzzy blankets to keep warm.

After the game we stopped at my friends' house (J&M, who are going to London with me), chatted it up for a while and didn't get home until midnight.

I was going to go to church Sunday morning, but Mabel claimed she didn't feel well (sore throat, sniffles) and was being all demanding for tea, soup, etc., so I stayed home with her.

The majority of the day I worked on counted cross stitch again -- this big project I've been working on here and there for the last couple months -- and I really made a big dent in it. At 5:30 Mabel and I went to my friend's birthday party, while Hubby stayed home and started working on preparations for a big meal/party/event we're having next weekend. It was an interesting party-- while it was my friend L's birthday on Saturday, she was celebrating her dog's birthday that Sunday, even getting a cake with her golden retriever's name on it. It was a cute event and we had a nice time.

Oh, another weekend highlights: Mabel was celebrating winning first prize for two different pictures she drew of Tinkerbell at our local community fair. I will have to take pictures of them and post them here so I can boast and brag about my talented little girl.

So yes, another busy weekend. Eating wasn't the greatest, but not terrible. At least when I'm cross stitching I'm not eating. But when I take breaks, I don't make the best choices and have little portion control. But I'm not feeling completely out of control, so I guess that's good.

Taking Care of Business

So much for back to business.

I couldn't get to the computer for the majority of the day because my husband is working on our foyer floor. After he stains it we can't go upstairs for hours, so I was kept away until bed time. And then I was just too tired!

It's going to happen again today, so I'm trying to get some kind of posting done before I'm barred again.

The seminar was interesting. We spent the majority of the day talking about confidence, assertiveness and communication. The instructor explained the difference between passive, aggressive, and passive-aggressive behavior in very easy to understand win and lose terms.
(When you're passive, you lose and the other person wins; when you're aggressive, you win and the other person loses; when you're passive-aggressive, you both lose) Of course, assertiveness was the preferred method of being (with a little tact and compromise both people win) and the instructor gave us lots of tips on how to phrase requests to get the best impact.

The greatest part of the day was when she illustrated cognitive behavioral therapy on her overhead projector. I had to suppress a smile because it's so odd how this seminar on being a better administrative assistant tied in almost completely to my work with Intuitive Eating and conscious living.

I had a doctor's appointment on Friday morning to check on my new medicine. Of course I had to get on the scale again, and I was up a couple pounds from the last time I was there, which was no shock, really. I've been overeating quite a bit this week and can definitely feel it in my midsection. But I was glad to see that I'm still staying within a 5-pound range. The other good news is that my blood pressure was at an all-time low -- 110/60 -- which pleased me to no end. All that walking must be doing some good!

The doctor has increased my Lexapro from 10 mg to 20 mg, which is supposedly the standard dose. She said my side effects shouldn't increase, but I do seem to be getting a little drowsier again. But nothing terrible.

I do need to address the eating I've been doing the past few days. It's been some mindless eating, snacking out of the box kind of thing, as well as eating past the point of comfortably full. Some of it might be hormonal, some of it might be coping with the extra-hectic week. I know on Thursday and Friday I was quite irritable and snapping at my poor family members, so I do think there were stress issues there.

The good news is I've been able to be in an observational kind of mode as I look at this and not in the judgmental mode. Because of this I feel my need to eat like this slowly waning and not getting worse because I'm not adding to my stress by bashing myself and calling my behavior "bad" or "failing." It's a phase, one of those "cycles" I mentioned in an earlier post, and it will run its course and pass.

I think I'm caught up now. I've started another counted cross stitch project; actually, it's one I started years ago and decided to try to finish. I went up to the attic this week to find my old needlework supplies and found several projects I started and never finished. So I decided not to buy another blessed thing until these are finally completed.

That seems to be the theme of my life right now: finally tackling things I've let lie around for years. Seems like a good thing.

Getting Productive

This is part of the reason why I didn't post yesterday. I finished this just a few minutes ago, although I did a lot of work on it yesterday.

I need to get this framed now, along with the tomato and pepper ones I did eons ago. I hope I can find a framer who won't cost an arm and a leg.

This wasn't the only reason I didn't post yesterday. Other than this and a few household chores, I was feeling really lazy, tired and sluggish. After my usual 2.5-mile walk with my SIL, I felt so tired I could hardly keep my eyes open. I couldn't muster any oomph to get online and write, so I skipped it. I also noticed I felt really hungry several times and ate more than I have in the last couple weeks; not compulsive binge eating, but definitely some overeating with snacks in the afternoon and the evening.

I suppose after the last couple weeks I'm allowed a day to be sluggish and eat a little more than usual. I know since starting the Lexapro I haven't been eating near as much as I had been, so maybe my body was just letting me know that it was a little depleted, both in energy and calories. Today I'm feeling a little better, a little more energy and motivation. I've had two rather big meals so far today, but nothing extraordinary, and no urge to binge, either.

This lack of energy thing is beginning to get a little tiresome. I hope this side effect will soon pass and I'll have more get-up-and-go soon. I'm still trying to figure out the best time to take this Lexapro, too. I thought taking it in the evening day would make me less tired in the day time, but it doesn't seem to be working at all the last two days. So I may go back to early evening/late afternoon and see how that works.

I know I'm still in the very early stages of this medication and it will take time to get regulated-- where have I heard that before? As usual, there's no overnight cure, no instant gratification. You think I'd get used to that by now.

I should go and get productive around the house -- Hubby has been working like a maniac sanding our foyer floor so he can then stain and varnish it. It's made me feel like even more of a layabout, so I need to make myself useful somewhere. I know I've got laundry to put away and a kitchen to clean. There's always something.

A Stitch in Time

According to Urban Dictionary, "a stitch in time saves nine" means "that it is better to deal with problems immediately rather than later as things will worsen and take longer to amend."

Hmm, tackle a problem now instead of letting things build and grow worse... doesn't seem to apply to me at all...

Enough sarcasm. On Sunday I started a counted cross stitch project that has been sitting around collecting dust for years. It's part of a set of three pictures of garden vegetables that will match my kitchen nicely. The other two pictures (of tomatoes and peppers) have been completed and sitting in a shirt box for ... holy crap, 9 or 10 years! Once I get this final project, the artichoke, done, I plan on getting all three framed and will hang in my kitchen.

I can't believe it's been 10 years since I seriously cranked out any needlework. Actually, it was 15 years ago this summer that I learned how to do it.

On July 14, 1992, my dad, my sister and I were in Alaska on a rare (in fact, only) father-daughter trip to salmon fish the Kvichak River. Dad got a call from home and came to us later to inform us that his dad, my Grandpa Harold, collapsed at his favorite diner that morning and was life flighted to Pittsburgh with a ruptured aorta. Despite their attempts to save him, the damage was too severe and he passed away.

A few days ago my mother and I were talking about this 15th anniversary and how this event was really a major turning point in our family, or should I say the eventual dissolution of our extended family. Grandpa Harold was a quiet man who sometimes came off as gruff, but he was truly the keystone of our family, the stable, solid presence who kept everyone civil and smoothed over ruffled feathers. Without him, the petty bickering, old resentments and festering issues that he managed to keep in check went out of control.

For me personally it was also a watershed moment. The day of his funeral was the day I finally realized that my father would never be able to be there for me emotionally in any capacity. I don't know what I cried over more: the loss of my grandfather or the death of my dreams of having a close, loving, supportive relationship with my father.

I don't hold any bitterness or anger about my father's actions during that time. He was under a massive amount of stress and trauma, and for a person who always avoided confrontation and unpleasantness when he could, this was unbearable. His method of coping was running away from us, which isn't that unusual, and turning to his coping device, alcohol. How many of us run away from our problems or escape into some kind of substance? I've certainly had my drug of choice all these years.

I've written a little about my dad before, but if you're new, this moment of realization actually helped me. Once I let go of those old expectations of what I wanted from my father, I learned to accept what he could give me. Since that time our relationship has actually improved because I know his limits and don't set myself up for disappointment like I used to.

Anyway, back to the needlework. I was home from college that summer, and after the funeral I moved in to my grandmother's house and lived with her until the fall semester began. My Grandma Kate and I had a lot in common -- to this day people tell me I look like her and have her caring nature. She was such a well-loved person in our little town and to this day I catch myself wanting to emulate her.

Grandma was famous for her prolific needlework. In the spring she would have us grandchildren go through her catalogs and pick out projects we liked, and that Christmas we would get it as a gift. My house is filled with beautiful needlepoint pillows, framed pictures and a foot stool, among other things. She was also part of our church's needlepoint group and contributed a large part to the altar paraments and the Christmas Nativity set. She also contributed to a plastic canvas reproduction of our Main Street district from the turn of the century.

Up until the last year of her life Grandma was dedicated to her needlepoint. After supper she would sit on her sofa and stitch away through the 6 o'clock news, Wheel of Fortune and all the prime time shows, then finally finish up for the night with the 11 o'clock news. I have stacks of photographs of all the pictures she took of each project before she gave them away; it's amazing how much she produced.

That summer, the summer she lost her husband of more than 50 years, she taught me how to do needlepoint. I remember sitting on her back porch working on plastic canvas bookends (you put bricks inside them before stitching them shut) and a tissue box cover that looked like a goldfish bowl. Before long I graduated from plastic to fabric backed projects which were much more intricate and detailed.

Then one afternoon Grandma took me to her friend's house. Mary was a counted cross stitcher, and she gave me a little starter project of a little owl. After that I still did some needlepoint, but after that I veered more and more toward counted cross stitch projects. Part of it was because I knew Grandma would be making me a needlepoint project each year, so it freed me up to do something else.

I remember being so proud when I gave Grandma a framed counted cross stitch picture of a cardinal on a snowy lamp post as a Christmas present. Grandma loved cardinals and often wore a sweater with the red bird embroidered on it. It felt wonderful to be able to give her something made by my hand, after all the years of giving to us.

But the gift she gave me continued throughout the years. I loved doing needlework. I would get so absorbed by a project I'd stay up half the night stitching away. When I lived with my ex-boyfriend some of our best Sunday afternoons were spent on the couch watching football games while I worked on some cross stitch.

As I've mentioned before, I quit doing needlework when Mabel came into my life. It was hard to concentrate on a project when I had a toddler who needed constant supervision, and I couldn't afford to stay up half the night when I needed all the sleep I could get.

Even now, as I'm beginning this new project, I feel like I should be doing something else around the house: cleaning, organizing, etc. I've allowed my life to get so hectic and stressful with things that need to be done, not necessarily what I want to do.

But, as my daughter is fond of saying lately, "How's that working for ya?" Obviously, not very well.

So I'm paying attention to the old idiom "a stitch in time saves nine." I'm resurrecting what was once a very pleasurable, stress relieving, and non-food recreation for me, and I'm enjoying it greatly. I'm not waiting when I have more time, or when my home office is finally organized. I'm doing it Now.

Better yet, Mabel is interested in it, and I've started her on a latch hook project. But she's already got her sights on needlepoint and counted cross stitch, too. If my grandmother is able to, she must be smiling as she looks down at me and my daughter as we work on our projects together. It's a tradition being handed down to another generation, and it's me putting conscious living into action.