On Stuff

Almost everyone on the planet now has ‘too much stuff’.  Drive through any city or town, count the storage places.  And as we grow older and move into larger places, our ‘stuff’ seems to magically expand to fill that void.  And then suddenly, we realize our house is full and we can’t afford a bigger one so we ‘put a few things into storage’.  Ah, that’s better.  The house seems more spacious.  But then we begin to fill it back up again, because we can.  And more stuff goes into storage until finally the storage space is full.

We buy spend money on fancy containers to store our precious ‘stuff’.  Fabulous closet systems, over the door racks.  It’s insidious, there’s no end to it.

My stuffed to capacity storage unit in New Orleans. Almost $250 a month to store... what???

This is a big deal to me because I spent 19 years carefully  stuffing way too many belongings into a very well organized house, then had to yank them out and drag them to an apartment half the size (because of my divorce), then store the things that couldn’t fit at my mother’s house for a year.  Then I tried to move in with my poor boyfriend into a home that was barely bigger than my own apartment (with all of his mounds of stuff too).  Between the two of us, our ‘excessive stuff’ drove us both insane and drove us apart.  Material objects should not be enough to threaten a relationship with another human being.  But it does all the time.

Here's all my furniture pushing Aaron's lovely leather sofa and love seat out of his living room

So I put 95% of my belongings in a storage room for almost 9 months, with the intention of sorting it and getting rid of a bunch of it so we could fit into one home, but it was too overwhelming, too inaccessible... So we separated to sort out our things on our own, and I hauled my stuff to a different state and I am currently trying to make it fit into an even smaller apartment with two tiny turn of the last century closets.  I have been forced to employee a lot of organizing tricks to maintain my sanity - built a custom, multi level clothing closet, added overhead storage, I’m using underbed storage, I bought a bigger dresser to replace my small childhood one.  And I’m installing built in shelves in a wasted alcove for DVDs and paperbacks.  I eventually want to transfer all my DVDs and CDs to my computer and make them truly portable, but that will take time.

My very organized but overstuffed (already) custom closet

But that’s where I must stop.  And then seriously began the journey of sorting through all of this ‘stuff’ and separating the things that I love, that really mean something to me, clothing I love and wear regularly, books I love, from all the extraneous crap that’s just overwhelming me.  Tripping over things, having to step over things on the floor, makes me want to cry.  I cannot be healthy in this environment,  I am claustrophobic and the unopened boxes and the big piles of god knows what that have a habit of slowly sliding over give me panic attacks and make me feel sad and overwhelmed.  And the expense of renting a storage unit, having to rent the largest Uhaul made for my last move... I’m just one little person with a cat.  If I can’t manage my own mounds of life debris, how can I ever share a home with someone I love without driving them insane.  It’s just all too much.

This was a few weeks ago, before the curtains.  And before I freecycled all those damn storage boxes and shoe racks

If something in your life makes you feel guilty because you are neglecting it, it reminds you of something negative, you don’t enjoy it, it only has some distant sentimental attachment, get rid of it.  Find the things you own that make you happy, make you smile when you look at them, make you proud to own them, are useful to you, are good quality, you are passionate about and enjoy using.  Find these things, some of them you probably have forgotten you even owned, may have not seen in years.  That’s the real tragedy, neglecting what you love and spending all your time shuffling things from one place to another just to get through life and maintain your sanity.

If you haven’t worn something in a year and it’s not something of exceptional quality, that fits you well, and/or has a use (seasonal, special occasion clothing), get rid of it.  If you have lost weight and are keeping fat clothes?  Get rid of them, it’s an incentive to stay healthy and slim.  They’re probably out of style anyway.  Same thing for outdated, ‘I used to be a size 4’ clothes.  Besides making you feel guilty that you can’t wear junior sized clothing anymore, again, they’re probably also out of style.  If you’re losing weight, treat yourself by buying new, fashionable clothing as you lose weight.  If you have something tiny and valuable, give it to a consignment shop, and use the profit to buy something that will make you feel good about yourself.  Life in the present, stop living in the ‘back when I was XX age...’.  I’ve been regularly donating clothing for the last few years and it makes me feel lighter and will hopefully make someone else happy and be useful to them.

I have a problem with books, magazines and knick knacks.  The books are a lifelong problem, and my first job at a library cemented my fate.  Bibliophiles say that ‘you can never have too many books’.  Well, yes, you can.  I am unearthing books I forgot I owned.  I am coming to the realization that I will probably never reread the majority of my books.  There are a lot that I will probably never give up, but one person does not need 11 bookcases.  I had 22+ big plastic storage tubs of boxes in my last move, which is completely insane.  I forgot what the estimated weight of my move was (5000-7000 pounds?) but most of it was books.   Since then I’ve sold and donated three boxes of books, a box of LP’s, and four boxes of comic books (nothing valuable).  I know I could have spent hundreds of hours selling them on ebay, but the relief at just getting rid of them made me much happier than the few dollars I would have netted.

I have almost an entire bookcase crammed with glass collectibles

As for the knick knacks, I collect things like figurines of cats (I have OCD and worked at home selling on EBay full time for many years, so the temptation was in my face literally 24/7).  They are dust catchers, I’m constantly worrying about breaking them, and the sheer volume of them makes me uneasy.  A year or so ago, my shelves got full and I filled a plastic storage box with the lesser figurines and put it in the closet.  I pulled it out a few weeks ago at a garage sale, and didn’t even remember I owned some of them.  They didn’t sell well so I began giving them to children who seemed to show a genuine interest in them, remembering my passion for horses at a young age (yes, I know, don’t pass the problem on to the next generation ;-).  But it made them happy to get a new treasure, and me happy because they were happy and I didn’t have to take them home.  I have a lot of work to do.  I may never finish.  But the journey will lighten my soul and my life.

My entire life right now seems centered around sorting and purging and trying to recognize what my priorities in life are.  It’s hard.  My boyfriend has inspired me, he has pared his life down to just the truly important stuff, I’m very proud of him.  He never could have done it with me crowding him out of his own house.  My goal is to get down to the point where I know where every item I own is, I can find it in an instant if I need it and not waste time searching for it.  And get out of the house and enjoy life, have more experiences than things ;-)

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UPDATE: This weblog has moved to a permanent home  (and all Blogger posts have followed), please post all comments at the new location.

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View this post and comment here -http://wednesdays-child.com/2012/05/08/on-stuff-decluttering/

Saint Anne's Mardi Gras Day Parade photos

Here are Rendell Bird's pics, I haven't had a chance to upload mine yet to my blog.  Nice photos!

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Babylon, Chaos and Muses

The three appropriately named parades we attended tonight at Mardi Gras.  I have so many mixed emotions in my head right now.  We spent almost six hours sitting on St. Charles Avenue tonight, at least half of which Mary's six year old daughter Ari spent crying and holding her ears.  Her school sent them on a field trip to Mardi Gras World so she was excited but also on the road to worn out by the time the three back to back parades started.  And once the parades start, there is no leaving, traffic is stopped for miles all around the parade route.  She did fine last night with several hours of parades in the pouring rain, but tonight she was miserable.  In the end she was given a Muses shoe, probably the hardest throw in the entire season to get so she went home happy.  And I got another LED tambourine, courtesy of Mary.  I had to buy one last year on Ebay (I collect tambourines), so that was the highlight of the evening for me.  But I was acutely aware of poor Ari's misery all night.  She eventually fell asleep thank goodness.  And Mary couldn't understand how a child who got a Wii and a dozen Monster High dolls for Christmas could fail to be impressed by the cheap (but pretty) beads and the random stuffed toy, since she grew up in a time when catching one toy in a season was a miracle.

I dressed up in my tackiest, brightest parade clothes (and a jacket, it's a night parade, I'm not stupid). I can't find my wigs, they're buried somewhere in my storage room so I had to wear my own hair.  And even though the weather was perfect, we had great seats, good parking,  we lots of friends attending, and were watching one of the best parades in the city, I was numb by the end of the night also.  I don't know why, or maybe I do, but I realized about halfway through that I was kind of ambivalent to the whole thing tonight.  I've been off of Celexa for weeks, but it was kind of the same numb feeling you have on SSRI's, like your face is numb and you feel like everyone knows it.  Maybe it's my MS, wish I knew...  I've noticed after going to the parades for three years now I often feel a weird mixture of pissed off, annoyed and left out, wondering how I got here.  Part of it is I'm hanging out with people who grew up going to the parades, who are bead magnets that can catch them with their eyes closed.  There is also something akin to a religious frenzy, bordering on what feels like, but really rarely is, a dangerous mob mentality when the float stops moving because of a kink somewhere ahead and the crowd swarms the floats, screaming at the riders for shoes and stuffed animals, knocking each other out of the way to retrieve the items thrown from the floats before they hit the ground.  Then there are the thousands of teen marching bands, dancers and natives strutting like they're on Soul Train, which can also make you feel older and whiter than you ever thought you could possibly be ;-)  Though it's funny to see all the girls, in every shape and size you can imagine, in their skin tight sequined, spandex outfits marching along proudly as if they were all picture perfect.  Which of course, they are with that amount of self confidence.

And while the child cried, another of our friends listened to her mp3 player, completely ignoring the parade, wishing she were elsewhere.  I tried to get into the spirit, I brought two Dr. Pepper's mixed with Jager, but still didn't feel the rhythm of the music playing, even though I could feel the vibration in my bones.  Mary and I observed after we got home how hard it is to actually get even a little bit drunk at real parades, even if you try, it's nearly impossible to even get a little buzz.  Our theory is it's the mixture of the crowds, being outdoors, the constant movement and noise, and having to maintain the necessary hand/eye coordination to achieve the combination of catching things for fun and not getting physically injured at the same time for hours on end that keeps you sober.  Oh well.

So I was quiet on the entire ride home while Mary chatted nonstop about the traffic.  I heard everything but felt so detached it worried me.  And not the least bit drunk.  I kept having flashbacks to several weeks ago when I had an accident in the same area that had cost me the front end of my car.  And I suddenly realized how much one of my back teeth was hurting, which I think I've lost a filling in and feels jagged and suddenly painful after several weeks of not attending to it after I first noticed the roughness with my tongue.

When we got home, I found a package on the porch for me.  A gorgeous aqua negligee I had ordered a few weeks ago when Mary and I were shopping in the Galleria in Nordstrom's the day we left town, after a five day visit to Houston for a friend's wedding and to pick up a computer and a gun (a birthday present for me) at my late brother's apartment.  We had ran into Aaron at Numbers unexpectedly that weekend after we had been broken up and been apart for several weeks after a miserable Christmas visit where everything seemed to progressively go wrong and it had been like old times.  He was fit and happy, had noticeably lost weight and looked great, he had been exercising daily, he was sober and we talked and danced all night and had what was probably one of our best dates ever.  I had spent the night with him that morning before we left and we parted on good terms, and Mary wanted to stop at the Galleria to shop for shoes before we left town, and she wanted to shop for lingerie, a 'requirement' for her husband to compensate for the trip, so we went to Nordstrom's and I decided to look around also.  I found the same chemise in black and pink, but fell in love with the aqua, which was not in stock in my size so the salewoman ordered it for me.

But Aaron and I attempted another more extreme visit last weekend, a boot camp of sorts for me to join him in his daily workouts, including getting up at literally dawn, and everything went wrong again.  So the arrival of the tiny bit of silky blue fabric in a box that could have held a dozen of them just made me sad.

I somehow took exactly 666 photos tonight, which is weird in several ways besides the numbers.  It means that I obviously spent way too much time as an observer instead of a participant, which I know adds to the detachment I felt.  I have it down to a boring science, step out on the street, take a photo of the beginning of the float (the artistry involved fascinates me and I feel neglectful if I fail to document even one of them), lower the camera as the float approaches while trying to alternately catch and dodge the throws, once I've ascertained whether I have a chance at catching anything interesting of not, then raising the camera and snapping some of the riders and crowd.  Rinse and repeat.  I do try and get some candid and artsy photos too, but my new camera is slow to focus at night and that adds to my frustration.  Also the thought of downloading and editing through so many photos is both exhilarating and kind of depressing. I'm actually looking forward (as best someone with OCD and a photo fetish can) to a ball we're attending Sunday night where there are no photos allowed.

Then there's the apartment.  It's so close to being competed it's driving me nuts, and the construction guys have loyally shown up almost every day, which is unheard of in this city during carnival.  The only major thing left to do is lightly sand and revarnish the floors, which means all my furniture is still stuck in storage till after the parades have stopped.  And Mary's cousin and her husband will be sleeping there before I get to (albeit on an air mattress), because I am living in the guest quarters they have permanently reserved for Mardi Gras.  But ironically they're bringing their dogs (we're refinishing the floors because of the damage done by the previous tenants dogs), so that worked out well.  I love them both and can't wait to see them again, but it's still feels weird.  Last year I was sleeping on the air mattress, though, so yay me.

On the upside the washer and dryer have been installed and the water was turned back on today and I got to do my first load of laundry in the new dryer and semi-new washer, which are fabulous and much higher quality than my apartment or the ones I owned in my house.

I got my first real mail today, addressed to me and not 'current occupant', the new issue of Gothic Beauty.

And I got to decorate my porch in beads.

Goodnight ;-)

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UPDATE: This weblog has moved to a permanent home  (and all Blogger posts have followed), please post all comments at the new location.

New home page at -  http://wednesdays-child.com/

View this post and comment here - http://wednesdays-child.com/2012/02/17/babylon-chaos-and-muses/

Primer and cabinet day!

Goodnight all, was doing some last minute panic color swatching because the workmen are coming this morning to do the primer, yay!  I I will be known as the crazy lady in the blue house ;-)  (Lots of blue on the walls, my dream)

All the red on the walls and the tub is history, just too damn dark and claustrophobic.

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Going with blue and white and lighter blue (maybe with bead board at the bottom).  Tub will be repainted a dark almost teal blue to tie in with the front den and office area (with is a lighter teal),  top half of the bathroom will be a medium blue with a hint of green , the lower half of the bathroom (bead board) will be a lighter version of the medium blue, the ceiling above the picture rail will probably be the lightest shade of pale blue in that family.  The vanity area will be a shade lighter than the top of the tub/toilet area, with light cabinet tops to counter balance the walls and dark floors.  Cabinets will probably be some sort of ivory.

The bedroom will be in a medium slate blue grey, the dining room (or as I'm calling it my meditation and hooping room), will painted one shade darker blue grey, and will be embellished with stenciled antique gold stars randomly.

The kitchen is still a bit up in the air but for now, but the current fave is a light gold, with a dark countertop, and the cabinets and trip will probably be ivory.  Still working on appliances...

To see some of the color swatching madness this week click here



Tired, pills kicking in, sleep now... Raining outside,  Damn, where am I parked??

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UPDATE: This weblog has moved to a permanent home  (and all Blogger posts have followed), please post all comments at the new location.

New home page at -  http://wednesdays-child.com/

View this post and comment here -  http://wednesdays-child.com/2012/01/23/primer-and-cabinet-day/

Weigh In 1/18/12

Before I post today's info, here are the last recorded stats I had from March/April of 2011, when I was exercising regularly and feeling good.  But still 15-20 pounds above my goal.  Now I have twice as far to go.

Weight April 2011 - 136 pounds, 27.5% body fat, BMI unknown (scale didn't have that).
Measurements February 2011 - Bust 39.3, waist 32.5, hips 37.25, thigh 22, bicep 12.75

(drum roll please)

1/17/2012 - Weight 152.8, 39.8% body fat %, BMI 28.8.  Bust 42.5, waist 35, hips 39, thigh 23.5, bicep 13.

Goodnight.

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Update: This weblog has moved to a permanent home (and all Blogger posts have followed), please post all comments at the new location.

New home page at -  http://wednesdays-child.com/

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50 years = 50 x 3

More on the subject of overindulging.  For the majority of 2011 (especially the last half) I have been really stressed out.  Trying to work full time at a stressful job (as a 9-1-1 operator, working 10 pm -6 am), with an unstable relationship with my boyfriend (our sleep/wake schedules were total opposites and cost both of us a lot of sleep in our attempts to see each other, kept us both on edge, and completely screwed up our eating schedules), during our attempts to buy a house, and just not having any sort of stability in my life with constantly moving. And we both gained about the same amount of weight.  I discovered tonight I have gained almost 17 pounds since the last time I documented my weight.  And 2 1/2 inches in my waist.  I cried tonight when I saw the numbers.

He's a foot taller than me, so that's pretty freaking scary.  I am 5'1 and have what is (at my best) a compact muscular build.  I don't want it, I want to be 18 and 97 pounds again, and about 5 inches taller (though even then I had wide shoulders, I was skinny and bony but never lithe and willowy like I always wanted to be). 

1980 with my 79 Camaro

I actually began lifting weights in the early 80's because I thought I was TOO skinny.  My backbone and hipbones stuck out.  I'm glad I did now because my bone density reading is perfect, but I am very short waisted and gain all my weight in my waist and boobs, so even a few pounds is immediately obvious.  I'm straight waisted :-(  And short.  Not petite,  just short.

Aaron and I joined 24 Hour Fitness a year ago today in Houston because we were both about 15-20 pounds overweight and in bad shape and we really tried.  And we both did well at it for about 6 months.  I actually enjoyed doing aerobic exercise for the first time.  I liked the elliptical machine and the treadmill.  We went bike riding, it was great.  But then the house hunting started and just consumed both of us.  And we both got bad about going to the gym regularly and gradually all our progress slipped away and we were back where we started and a little worse.

And I got down to about 135, was starting to look and feel good about myself.

April 2011, after about 4 months of working out, about 135 pounds

My goal was (is) between 115-120 pounds.  For years I honestly didn't think that was attainable for me because of all the health problems I've had and the hormonal crap that happened in my early 20's when I was pregnant for a few months (yes, that blew my hormones out of the water, I went from an A cup to a C cup dammit and began gaining weight immediately and steadily).  But in fall of 2009 my weight dropped to below 120 pounds.  And I'm still not sure why.  I think it was a combination of stress from going through my divorce and the thyroid medicine I was taking.  I actually got down to a size 6 in jeans, which for me is skinny.  My anatomical smallest waist (even at 97 pounds) is about a 26-28 inches.

Halloween 2009 in New Orleans at one of the Anne Rice VL Fan Club events

And it stayed off for about six months, then I gradually went back up towards around 135, which is where I was when I met Aaron in September, 2011.  Too heavy, but not terrible.  Not good, though.

September 3, 2011, the night we met

The shiny slip and wide belt don't help, but in person this outfit was actually kind of cute.

But now I'm in New Orleans now  and they don't have 24 Hour Fitness in Louisiana.  So I joined the local gym a week or so ago here in New Orleans, Elmwood Fitness, which is gorgeous btw.  They wanted me to come in and get weighed, measured and get my BMI and then they were going to write up a personal fitness routine for me and wanted me to keep notes on my progress.  But this distressed me in several ways.  First, I used to own a gym and don't like being told how to exercise (this has caused several arguments between Aaron and I also because he used to date an aerobics instructor, and I hate aerobics), I like strength training, and a little bit of aerobics.  I became friends with the elliptical machine and the treadmill last year.  He likes the stairmaster, maybe one day I'll like it too.

Second, the thought of a stranger, and a male at that (they only have one female that does this and she was booked for two weeks out), taking my weight and measurements terrified me.  I know I've gained an uncomfortable amount of weight, my clothes don't fit well anymore, things are hurting that didn't used to, and I know I look like crap.  And I was afraid to find out.  My scale has been in storage since May in an unknown box and that was just fine with me.

And it's a huge, unfamiliar gym and I don't want to look like an idiot.  But Aaron has lost 20 pounds since I moved to New Orleans (and I know he worked hard at it, but honestly, men can lose weight so much faster than women, it's not fair).  And I really want to start working out again.  And I knew I needed to.

So I told myself I was going to go and orient myself tonight when I finished painting.  Which tool longer than I thought, so I snuck in an hour before they closed.  Which was fine, no one was there and I could wander around unnoticed.  I did 10 minutes on the elliptical, which wasn't hard because we've been walking so much, but my heart rate stayed around 150 the entire time.  Bad sign.

Then I weighed myself in the locker room (with all my clothes on).  And I actually gasped and scared a woman getting dressed.  I was over 150 pounds.  I haven't weighed that much in years.  And this is equivalent to the highest I ever got, my very worst.  It scared the crap out of me.  I've been eating better this month (lots of fish, chicken and salads), cutting back on desserts and alcohol, so I may have been even worse a few weeks ago.

 I was so freaked out I stopped at Walmart on the way home and bought a scale with body fat percentage and BMI readings.  I was going to use it till I get my other scale out of storage (and return it) but this one is much nicer and a lot easier to read.   Bought a rice cooker too, I miss Aaron's but in my rush I didn't realize it didn't have a steamer, so more research required on that one.  It was the only small one they had, I don't need 20 cups of rice.  Soon I will have a proper kitchen again and that will help also.  I'll have all my cooking utensils and pots and pans back.

I can't imagine what my cholesterol is now.  It was normal on my last physical (it's been 200+ most of my adult life).

So, it's exercise and eat right or die.  Of discomfort and embarrassment.  Of heart disease.  Of arthritis from the extra weight that is making my feet hurt like hell and causing random stabbing pains in my back.

I'm going to document my progress on this blog.  Starting a new post so my results will be short and sweet (not, at least not now).  No excuses, ashamed and embarrassed but beginning again.  No dieting, eating better, exercising, and sleeping at least 7-8 hours a day.  Haven't done much of that this year because of our crazy schedules.

Starting tomorrow.  Been freaked out all night about the weight, got caught in the thunderstorm earlier.  OK, posting the results as soon as I publish this one, let's get everything out in the open at once.  In my life, I've found putting things in writing makes it happen.  And keeps me honest ;-)

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UPDATE: This weblog has moved to a permanent home  (and all Blogger posts have followed), please post all comments at the new location.

New home page at -  http://wednesdays-child.com/

View this post and comment here -  http://wednesdays-child.com/2012/01/18/50-years-50-x-3/

Overindulging

Oh yeah.  I remember now.  When I’m depressed I shop.  And don’t eat right and don’t exercise.  But I did join a gym, my heart is in the right place, now I just have to get the rest of me there.  I scared myself by finding out tonight I’ve gone up a size in pants and belts.  The gym wants me to come in for my free consultation to get measured and calculate my body mass index.  Honestly?  I don’t want to know.  I’ve been feeling worse and worse the last few months, so it’s not like I didn’t know.  Maybe I just didn’t care.   I’m glad my scale is in storage...


When I left my husband a few years ago, I actually lost too much weight.  Just from stress, got down below 120 pounds and to a size 6.  Wish I could figure out what I did then, I want to be able to wear my black Levi’s again, I still have all the ‘tiny’ clothes I bought in 2009.

I’m very good at shopping.  I’m not going to discuss everything I’ve bought lately, because it’s kind of scary.  I actually did get a few really good deals today.  The cheapest (and goofiest) was a set of Betsey Johnson blue glitter vinyl containers.  The one on the right is an iPad case :-)  I wandered aimlessly into Macy’s this evening and literally ran into them on the clearance table.  40% off, my favorite color, on Ipad case left and in my favorite color combination (I want a 50’s dinette set in this material so badly).  Not practical, the case is ill fitting and I love my normal case, but IT’S FREAKING BLUE GLITTER!!!  And... IT'S AN IPAD CASE!!!

 And I really like some of Betsey’s stuff, I’ve got a few of her fabulous skull jewels, and I know I’m secretly kicking myself for not buying the Punk Rock Skull Princess Hobo bag last year.

I had it in my hand at the Galleria, I almost bought it, I had the money, and I couldn’t justify it, now it’s gone everywhere and I regret it.  Oh well.

Mary and I made one reasonable purchase today, we were appliance shopping for the apartment to replace some missing/damaged things (like the oven and vent) and we found a Samsung dryer and the connection kit so they can be stacked to replace the side by side mismatched set in the kitchen so I can actually have a bit of cabinet space.  Her plumbers were kind enough to help us carry it inside, because it was clearance Lowe's wouldn't deliver it.

There is a dryer in the apartment, but it’s a tiny kitchen as you can see below.  We’d been trying to figure out whether they actually could be stacked, and stumbled into the Samsung rep at Lowe’s who gave us all the info we needed and directed us to an older floor model in the back that was already marked half off and we talked them out of another $70, yay us!

Goodnight, another early morning (no sleep, yay me!), have to look at paint samples and for more appliance bargains, we're trying to get as much work completed before February so I don't have to map for another month of storage.  And the Mardi Gras events begin in earnest at the beginning of February and finding handymen will be nearly impossible.

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UPDATE: This weblog has moved to a permanent home  (and all Blogger posts have followed), please post all comments at the new location.

New home page at -  http://wednesdays-child.com/

View this post and comment here -  http://wednesdays-child.com/2012/01/13/overindulging/

Vintage Wednesday's Child Archives

FYI to everyone who wonders 'what was she thinking ten years ago?', I've added the link to my original blog archives from 2002-2006 in the side navigation bar.  Yes, there will be some dead links, and the '300 things' is a little outdated, but if you want to see my life in a nutshell, check it out ;-)

Next project, update my personal website, Morticia's Morgue.  Just transferred it all to Dreamweaver, I'm on a roll ;-)

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UPDATE 2013: This weblog has moved to a permanent home  (and all Blogger posts have followed), please post all comments at the new location.

New home page for Wednesday's Child weblog at -  http://wednesdays-child.com/

New main website hub for all or my projects at - http://www.beckyplexco.com/

To view the 2002-2006 archives - http://wednesdays-child.com/old-wednesday-archives/

One Foot After the Other

Starting over seems hard if you view it all at once, but if you break it into parts and actually consider each step to be progress it’s much easier to digest.  There are a lot of analogies to go with this idea, to the point of becoming banal, but this is the only way to successfully approach  any project.  The step-by-step journey is what makes up the beauty of the mosaic of life, not the end destination.  And to life a fulfilling life, one has to learn patience, which is probably the hardest step for me.

I have trouble walking.  I have MS and severe arthritis in my feet, so walking any distance and in many terrains, NOLA included, is a challenge for me and makes me nervous because I am sometimes unstable and careless where my feet land.  I’m easily distracted and often in a rush to get the ‘walking part’ over.  But New Orleans is a walking town, so I’m hoping to retrain my mind and body.  I was reminded the other day, when I stumbled, that I have to divide my attention between all the wondrous sights around me - ancient mossy oak trees, beautiful old houses - and where my feet actually are because the terrain here is uneven and treacherous.  The sidewalks are cracked by the swampy ground beneath, by the roots of the lovely trees that flourish here, and are often wet, slippery and covered in moss.  I’ve twisted ankles, broken toes (in my own home), and lost three toenails just walking at a normal pace.  I used to always bring elastic bandages and gel bandages with me when I visited NOLA because I always hurt my feet, it was just expected.

But rushing (or stumbling) through life and not enjoying and focusing on the steps you take to get where you are going is wrong.  And expecting to get right back up to where you where when you lost your path in life is wrong too.  We all stray, sometimes we even get completely lost, but it’s nothing to be afraid of.  When I’m driving one I rarely worry about getting lost because I like to drive, can read a map, have a decent sense of direction, and enjoy seeing things off the main road.  My ex-husband was terrified of getting lost, everything was a straight line to him, ‘We’re going from A to B’, he would have actual panic attacks if we missed a turn.  But I want to see what’s on the way.  Stop the car and get out and walk around.  Then get back on the road, maybe even take a different route.  It’s how we learn and grow.

I have so much to rebuild in my life it’s daunting at times thinking ‘what do I do first’?  Right now I’m in limbo, which is my most frustrating place to be, with 95% of what I own in storage and inaccessible (since last May!), waiting for the apartment I’ll be renting from Mary to be completed.  Until last year I’ve never not had my own place, I spent a majority of the the last year or so staying with Aaron and living out of duffel bags, which is extremely unsettling for me, I like to know where all of my ‘stuff’ is.  So I began my patience training with him.  And he did teach me a good lesson in minimalism, home is where your loved ones and your favorite belongings are.  For me that’s my cat, my computer and my camera. There are other people and things I love also, but that’s the minimum for me to feel grounded.  I’m still constantly misplacing things, which drives me nuts, but I’ve learned to just write down the things I’m missing and look for them later, which I’m settled again.

I am enjoying watching the steps of remodeling an almost 100 year old duplex and know most of the work has to be completed before I can even put a stick of furniture in it.  While the slow work of cleaning and restoring the duplex has just begin in earnest, we are picking out mailboxes, bathroom fixtures, paint colors and dreaming.  Mary has been working on her own Victorian home for 10 years, you never really finish ‘fixing up’ and old house, but as frustrated as she gets with the workers, fixing the damage from Katrina, I know she is proud of her creation and enjoys the creative process.  She has handled so many difficult things so gracefully, I am honored to experience life from her point of view.

Mary and her daughter, in the midst of scraping the popcorn off the ceiling and replastering

So I’m trying to slow my hyperactive “I want it now” big city brain down to the pace of the Big Easy, which is another reason I chose this city.  I need to learn patience.  I’m still making lists and notes of everything that needs to be done to help me keep my sanity, but I’m not complaining and have accepted my current situation and am very grateful for her hospitality, it was my choice to come here, it just happened to coincide with her having a place to rent.  Mary made me a floor plan to scale tonight to replace the hand drawn one I made back in November, I’ve been doodling on it, so it’s becoming more real each day. 

I have jumped off a lot of cliffs in the last few years.  I started working full time at the sheriff’s office after eight years of working at home and succeeded.  I left my ex-husband of 19 years and our beautiful home in 2009 and moved into my first apartment since 1985 and survived.  I put all my things in storage last May and moved in with Aaron, which admittedly didn’t go so well, we both had way too much stuff for a 1300 square foot home even with my things in storage, and we’re both control freaks, but I value the experience.  Then I moved my 300 square foot storage room full of stuff from New Orleans to Houston, and have been living in my best friend Mary’s very nice, but crowded guest room in the back half of the duplex I’ll be living in soon.  I gave up my privacy when I moved in with Aaron, and now Mary and her child are coming in and out of the duplex while I’m sleeping, it also contains her craft and storage room, so that’s a new life skill I’m learning also, because I have always been a very private, even a bit anti-social person.  I’m good at entertaining myself, when I’m in my own environment, and became very reclusive when I worked at home, and even more so when I lived alone the last few years.  So between she and Aaron, learning to even hold a conversation with someone daily, or share a bathroom, is a challenge for me, I became very spoiled being on my own and not being accountable to anyone for my whereabouts or actions. 

This was supposed to be a post about the steps I’m slowly taking to regain my health, my body and my home, but it went astray.  And that’s OK.

Motivation

I’ve learned you can’t motivate other people, even if they want you to, they have to want to change.  And they can’t motivate you.  You have to want it also. 

The best thing you can do for someone else is set a good example, be the best person you can be.  For you.  You can inspire others, but each person is responsible for their own path. You can’t set goals and achieve dreams to please others, you have to be true to yourself.  If you don’t have personal honesty and integrity you can’t have a good relationship with anyone.  Not even yourself.

And you can’t rely on anyone else to take care of you.  It’s beautiful if someone wants to help you, and sometimes you may need someone else’s help, but you need to learn to take care of yourself first.  Like on an airplane, you can’t help anyone else if you’re gasping for air, grab the mask.

This is not a post about New Year’s resolutions, this is about getting some stability back in life.  Again.  You don’t get to the bottom in one day (well, actually some folks have probably done so), it’s usually a gradual slide until you get to the point where you realize you’re slipping and your fingers are starting to hurt.  Some people decide to just let go and others start the arduous task of climbing back up one hand at a time.  Yes, they slip sometimes, but it’s worth the climb to see the view from the summit.

But there really is no top.  The climb is the reward.  Accomplishments should be enjoyed regularly, and when you feel you’ve ‘mastered’ one subject (if such a thing is possible), start anew with something else that interests you.  And never stop.  There is no failure, there is only learning.  One of my favorite philosophies is one I’ve read on a lot of hooping sites, “If you are not dropping the hoop, then you aren't learning”.  When hoopers drop the hoop, they laugh.  Life is more fun when it’s a game.

If you can feel good about yourself most of the time, you’ve succeeded.  If you’ve laughed and had fun doing something, you’ve succeeded.  Don’t judge yourself or others.  And don’t worry about what others think.  Most people are so absorbed in their own world are not even aware of who or what is around them.  Which is sad.  Open your eyes, and really see the world.   And see yourself.  Everyone is unique, and that's how it is supposed to be.

Everyone is beautiful, some just haven’t realized it.  Learn to be comfortable in your own skin and you will be content.  Be your own motivation.


This video inspired me a few years ago when I first saw it.  I hope it makes you smile too ;-)

Mardi Gras Begins - Krewe de Jeanne d'Arc Parade

The Mardi Gras season officially began with the Fourth Annual Joan of Arc Parade Friday night. It was the 600th anniversary of Joan of Arc's birthday and there were six Joan's in the parade on horseback.

See the rest of my photos in my Facebook album.

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Happy 100th Birthday Charles Addams!

Everyone check out Google today :-)

 New Jersey.com article.

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Happy Birthday to me :-)

So I celebrated the big five oh with my friends today.  Mary took me to lunch at Commander's Palace, one of the poshest and oldest restaurants in New Orleans.  In all my visits I've never been before.  I've walked past it a million times and watched the valets running back and forth, it's in the Garden District across the street from what is probably my favorite cemetery in the city, Lafayette No. 1.   (Check out the waiter in the background, lol, he's the one that made our flaming coffee)

Mary's friends Zhana and Tony were nice enough to drive us so we could indulge in the 25 cent martinis ("limit three 'cause that's enough") and we got to eat in the upstairs glassed in patio, which was beautiful, all you could see out the window from where we sat was oak trees, it was like being in a treehouse.

The food was excellent, the service was amazing, as Mary described it the waiters moved like they were in a ballet, removing dishes and placing the entrees with a coordinated precision I've never seen before, even at Brennan's.  We got several flaming foods including cafe brulee (you haven't really eaten out in New Orleans unless some part of your meal has been lit afire).

 

I got balloons and a funny hat, it was one of the best birthdays I've ever had and I'm so happy to be in this city with so many beautiful people. 

Now on to the second half of my life ;-)

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UPDATE: This weblog has moved to a permanent home  (and all Blogger posts have followed), please post all comments at the new location.

New home page at -  http://wednesdays-child.com/

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Barebones blogging

Temporary office and blogging central (complete with cat paperweight) until the apartment remodeling is finished and I get my big L shaped ikea desk back.

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UPDATE: This weblog has moved to a permanent home  (and all Blogger posts have followed), please post all comments at the new location.

New home page at -  http://wednesdays-child.com/

See this post at -  http://wednesdays-child.com/2012/01/02/barebones-blogging/

Starting over

On the eve of my 50th birthday, I’m starting 2012 from scratch. Again. Just me and the kitty. Two and a half years ago I moved out of my home and left my husband of almost twenty years and now I’ve moved away from my hometown of Houston to the city I was born to live in, New Orleans.  And just broke up with my boyfriend of over a year, Aaron.  And I’m attempting to rebuild my blog, Wednesday’s Child, which has been dormant for several years, in an attempt to document my life more thoroughly than I can on facebook and google+ alone in an attempt to tie them all together in a logical manner.  And to keep me sane.

As I write this, Phoebe (aka Gothic Kitty) and I are staying next door to my best friend Mary, in an almost hundred year old duplex she and her husband Chris own, awaiting the beginning of the remodeling of the front unit which begins this week.  I’ve been living here on and off since Halloween, commuting back and forth to Houston, alternately staying with Aaron in his small rental home, and basically living out of a duffle bag.  Which I've never done in my entire life.  Ever.  I always owned a home and the men in my life moved in with me.  I moved out of the the apartment I rented after leaving my ex of almost 20 years (and the large home we owned together) about six months ago.  I had been living there since the spring of 2009 and in the fall of 2010 I met Aaron.  After being together for about six months we decided we were going to buy a home together in California (his dream, not mine, though not a bad place to live) so I steadily put all my belongings from the apartment in storage with that goal in mind, which is very unsettling for me because I have a lot of ‘stuff’.  And I love my stuff, but the sheer volume of it completely freaked Aaron out so there was much talk of downsizing, which I still hope to do, though not to the survivalist point that he had hoped (and more power to him, he still wants to achieve that goal).  I am a collector of many things, including some 20+ boxes of books that are now in my 250 sq foot storage room here in New Orleans, along with all of my furniture.

The house fell through after months of dealing with agents & bankers long distance, many arguments and much depression ensued between us and the thought of living in a 1300 square foot house with little to none of my own furniture sent me running off to New Orleans, which is MY dream.  And the home of many of my friends.  I have dreamed of living here since childhood, when my family would visit every summer.  I was coming to New Orleans for Halloween for my annual trip to the Anne Rice Vampire Lestat Fan Club Coven Ball, which I’ve been attending since 1991 (and is one of the many reasons Mary and I hit it off about the same time), so I put in my two weeks notice at work and brought my cat and a car full of my belongings to NOLA.

More to come, but as usual, I’m up way past my bedtime.  I’ve worked the 10-6 night shift for the past 3 1/2 years as a 9-1-1 operator for the sheriff’s office and am a natural night person, which was also a huge problem between Aaron and I, as he is trying desperately to revert to the day schedule he successfully followed for years and my nocturnal tendencies have made our relationship extremely difficult.

But for now, good night and good morning to all and a happy new year.

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UPDATE: This weblog has moved to a permanent home  (and all Blogger posts have followed), please post all comments at the new location.

New home page at -  http://wednesdays-child.com/

See this post at -  http://wednesdays-child.com/2012/01/02/starting-over/