The Sticky Roll Incident

About two weeks ago I was having one of those days: the ones where nothing seems to be going right and you want to turn around and go back to bed, hoping you can start all over again and try to get it right the second time. It was also a very hectic day with longer hours at work, then chauffeuring my daughter to her orthodontist, grabbing a quick supper, then going to gymnastics (Mabel's hand is healed now and she's back to hand-springing and round-offing all over the place).



While I was waiting for the three hour (!!!) practice to end, occupying myself with book reading in my car, my cell phone rang and it was my hubby. He announced to me that since I had such a rough day he would have a surprise for me when I got home. By that point the day was almost over, and to be honest, the book reading had done wonders for my mood. Other than being tired from the long day, I actually didn't feel so bad anymore.



So I got home, and there on the kitchen island was an entire half sheet pan (11.5x16.5 inches) brimming with sticky nut rolls. Hubby was so proud of himself, and I must tell you, they looked and smelled fantastic. But to be honest, the very first thought in my head was, "Oh, no..." I did eat one; I had been planning to get some kind of snack on the way home from gymnastics (Mabel's always starving after her workout, and since on those days we eat supper around 4 p.m., by 8 I'm usually a little peckish, too), so I drove straight home, since I knew any surprise from hubby would more than likely be food-related. I guess I was hoping it would be some little individual treat made just for me, not a bevy big enough for a party.

Later I tried to explain to him that I'm learning and actually accepting the fact that food, especially treats like those rolls, cannot really comfort and give me "happiness." I appreciated the thought and effort he put into it, but the food itself is irrelevant, and I can no longer give it that power anymore. Hubby listened and nodded and said, "You're right, you're right..."

I also tried to tell him that making enough for a small army isn't a great idea; I didn't say it to him, but I equated it in my mind to giving a recovering alcoholic a case or keg of beer. He also listened to this and said he would make an effort to give most of the pan of rolls away. Within the next couple days we did just that: I gave some to my pastor and my mom, and he gave some to his parents, too. We even wound up throwing a couple away when they got too old. Out of that enormous pan, I wound up eating two of the rolls, which I considered a major accomplishment.

In fact, in recent weeks I've discovered that I'm doing much, much better with foods that in the past I would consider major binge trigger foods. There is a Mennonite-run bakery and store in our county that makes the best orange iced rolls, and normally when I buy the round pan of them I scarf them all down within 48 hours, and usually feeling sick to my stomach from the fat and sugar overload. About six weeks ago I bought a pan, and they tasted great as usual, but I didn't feel the drive or compulsion to eat them all. In fact, I wound up throwing two of the rolls away when they got stale! That was a completely new experience for me.

This healthier relationship with food has been pretty far-reaching: I can take two pieces of candy out of a full box full and walk away satisfied, whereas in the past I would not be able to pull myself away and the box would be emptied in an evening. This past Saturday my mom went to the local farmer's market and showed up at my house with some Amish-made snickerdoodle cookies. Last summer she got these for me, too, and I remember going wild over them and eating a whole pack of them in a day. This time she gave me four cookies, and I still have two in the plastic container where I'm storing them. We have an ice cream place near our house that's only open from May-October. Last summer we seemed to be there every other day and I always got something, usually a big sundae loaded with tons of goodies. While my daughter still goes fairly regularly, I couldn't tell you the last time I actually got any. The ice cream's still as good, but for some reason I never seem to be in the mood for it at the times she wants to go.

A couple nights ago during Mabel's gymnastics I went to the mega-mart to stock up on essentials: contact saline, deodorant, etc. These trips used to be the big hunt for binge foods, which I would then chow down on in the car until the end of practice, and the rest would be hidden away for secret binge eating later. Two nights ago I walked through the bakery and not a single thing appealed to me. I bought my daughter some cinnamon bagels (she hates raisins and it's really hard finding cinnamon bagels without them!), and the only food-related item I got for myself was seltzer water! I did have a passing thought of, "Hmmm, what treats can I find for myself?" but it was quickly answered with a shrug of indifference and the reply that I don't really need to or want to.

Here's the thing: I'm still eating cookies and ice cream and candy; I'm not telling myself I shouldn't eat them or that I should reduce the portions. Instead I find myself enjoying the amount I do eat, when I'm in the mood for it, and then I'm quite content. I'm not feeling deprived just eating one cookie or skipping a treat entirely, and I'm not obsessing over the remaining candy, cookies, etc., that are still in the house. Sometimes I actually even forget about them! And you know what? It's such a RELIEF not to feel that way. I feel like I've had some kind of demon exorcised from my body and mind. And I'm suspecting that just maybe, this is what "normal" eating is all about.

I'm not saying I have been the "perfect" normal eater. I have had a couple days here and there where I have the munchies and the drive to overeat. But I've noticed that these incidents were times when I felt tired and run-down by too much running around or not enough sleep. So I've been trying to get more sleep and more down time to help combat this. It's great to me to be able to start putting these things together -- for years it always seemed to be such a mystery why I was so preoccupied and needed eating. To be able to pinpoint these things is wonderful to me. And hopefully, I can avoid any more binge eating episodes of weeks and months that lead to more and more weight gain and its accompanying depression.

Vacation-propelled Project

Today I tackled a project I am always procrastinating about -- uploading photos. In this digital age it's so easy to let these pictures pile up until you have hundreds lingering around on these little memory cards. I have a digital camera, my daughter has one that I use a lot, and then there's my cell phone camera, too. So I spent this morning going through all three and realizing it's been MONTHS since I've gone through them.

I've been reticent about looking at any recent photos because of my regain. But I was pleasantly surprised when I found this one at right. It was taken at Easter, when I was feeling particularly bad about myself, and honest to God, I think I look okay. Of course, this isn't a full body shot, which means I get to ignore a lot, but I can see that I still have a neck (believe me, there was a point in my life that I had a lot less of one), and that I can still look fairly decent with a little makeup, etc. The funny thing is, most of the time now I feel pretty much the same about my body as I did when I was thinner. I have certain parts of my body that bother me more than others, and they bothered me just as much if not more when I was spending all my time trying to lose weight. I don't know if I'm starting to finally learn a little self-acceptance, or if it's shoving my head in the sand and living in the land of denial, but I don't seem to detest my body as much as I used to.

The reason I finally tackled the photo backlog was our recent trip to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. We definitely had a fun time and the weather cooperated with us. I must admit I spent the majority of my beach time under an umbrella reading a good book and listening to my satellite radio (have I mentioned just how much I love Sirius? Our government needs to stop crappin' around and let them merge with XM already!). You also always find yourself people watching, and it was interesting to see the immense varieties of sizes, shapes, colors and ages you see walking around in swim suits. It makes you realize that life isn't a beauty pageant and you might as well just put the suit on and not worry about the cellulite and love handles. Isn't it better to live your life and accept yourself instead of hiding away and never venturing out because we don't meet some unrealistic standard?

Being the foodies we are, vacations have a lot to do with the meals and treats we find away from home. My husband introduced me to this crêperie on a little side street off the main strip. He and his family always went there and reveled in this French delicacy, whether it's sweet (Nutella and strawberries are my favorite), or a savory one like Hubby's ham, tomato and cheese one at right. They also sell croissants, and the big decision is whether to get the crepe or the croissant. My husband, of course, got both. I decided to go with the croissant, and I took one bite of his crepe just to try it. And while it tasted great, that one bite was enough.

In fact, my foodie tendencies were quite subdued on the whole trip. In the past, before we even left home I would stock up on a bunch of snacks for the road trip and the hotel room. This year I didn't do it for myself (although I did get some things for Hubby, daughter and her friend) and I didn't even miss it. The only thing I brought for myself was some flavored seltzer water because I know how hard it is to find in convenience stores and vending machines. Both days at the beach I did not spend the whole time thinking about what I could be eating from the boardwalk. Amazingly, both days at lunch all I ate were my daughter's leftover french fries with vinegar, and I was perfectly satisfied with that. In this instance I didn't mind eating what she left behind because they were the fries most drenched in vinegar. Yum!

I did buy some treats, but not nearly in the volume I have in the past. There's one kind of fudge I absolutely love from a candy store on the boardwalk, and normally I bring a whole pound home and eat every ounce of it. This year I decided to only get 1/4 pound. I ate it all myself, of course, but I felt just as content -- and I probably felt less sick to my stomach -- having eaten so much less.

Now, I was not a "perfect" eater; at supper time I definitely ate a lot, certainly overeating in most books, but I found myself much more particular about what I ate. I didn't clean my plate just because it was there and I didn't want to "waste" it. I was actually okay taking one or two bites of something just to savor the taste of it, and leaving the rest behind.

So I wasn't perfect. But I certainly felt a lot more "normal" about food and eating, and it was a really nice feeling. I hope it's a continuing trend.

Off to Make New Memories (and re-live old ones)

After some discussion, we finally decided to splurge a little with our rebate check and go to the beach this week. We're trying to be a little economical and go Tuesday, Wednesday and come back home Thursday, when the hotel rates are cheaper. Hopefully the beach won't be as crowded during the week, too.

We are going to Rehoboth Beach in Delaware. Since meeting my husband we've been going annually, which was fun for me because before that I hadn't gone since I was six years old. In those days my mother's cousin owned a beach house down the coast on Dewey Beach, and we (my mom, sister and I) would go down with cousins or friends while my Dad and his friends would go out west to fish for trout. This "girl trip" was always a lot of fun, even that last year when I had to go with my finger wrapped up in bandages after breaking it in a freak door-slamming accident. I can still vividly remember distracting myself while my mom changed the dressing on it (it looked pretty gross to a 6 year-old) by reading my first Wonder Woman comic book.

Sometimes I really think I have some sort of psychic abilities. I'm not saying I can foretell the future or find missing children, but there are these uncanny coincidences always seem to happen to me and the people close to me. A lot of it happens with the phone: sometimes I'll know exactly who's on the phone and what they want before I even see the Caller ID; more than once I've picked up the phone to call someone, and before I can dial the phone rings and it's them. Or I get the call through and it just so happens they were getting ready to call me.

I'm not going to go into the whole long list of incidents, but here's the most recent one. I have not talked to my dad since last Sunday, so I haven't informed him that we're going to Rehoboth. Yet this morning I checked my email and saw a message from my dad -- which is odd enough, because he rarely e-mails me -- which contained these photos. (Sorry they're small -- it's all I could download and save from Dad's email)

I had almost forgotten that my dad and his friend owned a boat called the Rusty Nail -- yeah, a real luxury yacht! -- and they kept it docked on the Indian River Inlet, which is in the Rehoboth area. That's me in the photo on the left, dressed in pink and looking like I'm on the telephone with someone. Even though it was so long ago -- in my preschool days! -- I can still remember pieces of these adventures out to sea, posing for the camera and holding a fish that was as long as I was tall, staying in our friend's camper, even the night we had a flat tire on the Bay Bridge. They were such fun times, in the days before my parents' marriage went downhill and life was still carefree and happy.

Maybe that's why I still have this fondness for these trips to Rehoboth, and I now try to create new happy memories for my daughter in this same location. Coincidentally, my husband and his family also made many summer trips to this beach, too, so we're both able to relive our childhoods through these visits. I'll try to take some photos while we're there and share them with you when we get back.

Leaving Food on the Plate

For the past two weeks I've been plugging away at this Intuitive Eating business, and I have to say it's been going pretty well. I've been reading my IE e-mails (I'm signed up for a couple yahoo forums that send me digests of posts), as well as finding some new resources online and in book form.

Here's the biggest accomplishment, and I'm willing to attribute some (if not a lot) of this to the Intuitive Eating hypnosis/meditation CD I've been listening to every night. More and more I'm able to leave food on my plate -- even throw it away!!!-- and not feel anxious, unhappy or deprived when I do it. This has been one of my biggest challenges, and it feels so liberating to be able to dump that food in the garbage and not be gripped by this compulsive need not to "waste" it.

I come from a family who shares this fear of wasting or throwing something away, just in case "you might need it later." So I know part of it is a learned belief that has been ingrained into my head all of my life. In the case of food, even if it wasn't that good, or if a certain food lost its appeal half-way through, I'd eat it all anyway because doing anything else would be (gasp!) wasteful.

But part of it, too, is the whole issue of deprivation and in turn "treating" myself with food. I have always felt that if I didn't eat everything on my plate --even if I was full or if it wasn't all that good -- I was taking comfort away from myself, in other words punishing myself.

For a long time I've been reading about changing my beliefs, which would then change my behavior (otherwise known as cognitive behavioral therapy), but it always seemed so difficult to put that theory into practice and actually believe it. But right now it all seems to be clicking. Instead of feeling deprived, I feel I'm giving myself the very best of my meal and not wasting my time -- perhaps even punishing myself ?-- with food that doesn't meet my standards.

For example, the other night we ate out for dinner. My meal came with two little rolls (2 to 2.5 inches in diameter), a dinner roll and a sticky roll. My daughter ate the dinner roll because it's her favorite. I looked at my sticky roll and noticed that the edges looked dry, but the center looked moist and tasty. In the past, not wanting to "waste," I would eat the edges first and save the best part for last. That way even though the whole thing wasn't that delicious, at least the last bite would be great.

This time, however, I picked the edges off and put them aside, and I only ate the center. My husband looked at my plate of discarded roll in a quizzical way, and I tried to explain to him that I only ate the best part and didn't bother with the rest. The best part was, I wasn't doing it because I "should" to be a good Intuitive Eater; it's what I truly believed.


The real test for me was this past July 4th weekend. I had two family picnics and a two meals out with my friends, events that have always led me to compulsive eating that left me feeling stuffed and miserable. At both picnics and the dinner party at my friend's house I was really selective on what I put on my plate. At the first picnic and the dinner party I chose to leave food on my plate and even threw it away. At the second picnic I did clean my plate, but I noticed that I picked up much less food than I usually do and did not continue to pick at things the rest of the day. At the meal out with my friends, I ordered less food than most people at the table, and I actually wound up being one of only two who brought leftovers home, which I ate today at lunch.

Throughout all of these meals/events I did not feel compelled to eat and eat and eat because it was there or because "everyone else is doing it." I by no means estimated calories or the "fattening" quotient of the food I selected. I picked what looked delicious to me, and if it wasn't, I didn't finish it.

I can't tell you if I'm losing weight. For one, I haven't weighed myself. And I don't want to, because I know it will trigger nothing but negativity whether the number's up or down. If I've gained, I'll get bummed out and feel like I'm not making "progress;" if the number's down, my perfectionism will kick in and I'll be tempted to start restricting or counting calories to do even better. Right now I'm rating my success by other means: my clothes aren't getting tighter; I don't walk away from a meal or end the day feeling stuffed and miserable; I don't feel anxious, resentful or deprived. Psychologically speaking, those are much healthier guidelines for me to follow right now.

Once I start digging into the new books and resources I've been investigating, I'll let you know what I think. Hang in there!

A Fresh Start?

I don't know if it's the birthday, the beginning of summer, three weeks of using the Intuitive Eating hypnosis CD, my PCOS medication kicking in or any combination thereof, but this week I've finally, after months and months, felt like trying to try again to become a normal eater. For the past three days I've done my best to be more conscious about my eating, as well as catching up and reviewing IE material online. So far, so good.

It could just be that I've hit rock bottom, too, and there doesn't appear to be anywhere to go but up. The past few months have been a process of realization for me. Mostly that for the past year I had simply given up and didn't care anymore -- about tackling my eating issues or even working on non-food issues. Let's face it -- I didn't care about anything, including myself. Call it depression, a breakdown, whatever; but it has definitely been an emotional, physical and spiritual trough that has left me feeling pretty lousy about myself. I have realized that this is something that isn't going away and I have to cope with for the rest of my life, just like if I was diabetic, had cancer, you name it. I will always have a tendency for depression, and I will always have to be aware that food is my biggest form of self-medication.

Maybe this is all part of a process of metamorphosis for me. Perhaps this past year has been an incubation period, and if I'm lucky, I'll break free from this cocoon I've been in and emerge as a butterfly and not a gypsy moth. I know in my IE reading it's been stated that becoming a normal eater takes time -- even years -- until one is finally free of the old diet mentality or disordered thoughts about food and emotions and the new rational beliefs become ingrained. And in many of the cases I've read about there have been periods where there is a gaining and free-for-all period before reaching a saner, more intuitive state.

I know, it's only been three days, and in the past few months I've had a week here and there of "clarity," only to fall back into my old ways again. But like emerging from that cocoon, it takes work and effort to break through, and I'm beginning to accept the fact that this is going to be a long process. In fact, I may have to work at this for the rest of my life. But I have to remember that working towards something is better than giving up and doing nothing.

By the way, I never mentioned here that after a few weeks, my neck/arm pain has pretty much gone away. Again, it's something I'm going to have to continue to keep an eye on, but for now, thank goodness, I'm not in pain.

You Live in a Zoo...

Yes, today is the day of my birth. Long long ago, longer ago than seems possible, I entered life around 6:50 a.m. EDT. Maybe that's why I'm such a morning person now.

I think I'll take this day to reflect on others who share my special day.

Garfield the cartoon strip began on this day, and so it's the cat's birthday, too. As a kid I always used to think it was cool to share this day with Garfield -- he was very popular at the time. My sister in particular really liked the cartoon and had books of the strips. At one point my mom named one of our dogs Odie after the canine that shares his home, and one of my best friend's nickname is Nermi, Garfield's sickeningly cute nemesis. I have to admit I haven't been that thrilled with the recent Garfield movies, and while the idea of the Garfield ride at Kennywood Park is nice, the ride is woefully antiquated and could use some major upgrades.


Later on I discovered that Ann Wilson of Heart also shares my birthday. I've discussed before how I've felt a kind of affinity for Ann and have found several similarities in our lives (other than her being a massively talented musician and incredible vocalist, while I'm definitely NOT). We both have sisters who are blonde, we both have adopted children, and we both have struggled with our weight. Oh yeah, we're both huge Led Zeppelin fans, too! In the one instance in my life that I got hit on by a woman at a bar I was told I looked like Ann. While the incident freaked me out a little bit, I was in the end complimented immensely by the comparison. I always felt bad in the 80s when the video directors turned her sister into a sex symbol while Ann was relegated to close-up face shots in near darkness because she didn't meet the skinny rock slut standards. (Not that Nancy is a skinny rock slut, either! I think she's great, too). But I'm glad that Ann has continued to perform and look great, no matter what her size.


Other famous people who share my birthday are Nancy Marchand (Tony Soprano's mother and Lou Grant's publisher), author Salman Rushdie, Stooge Moe Howard, Serial Mom Kathleen Turner, baseball legend Lou Gherig, Wallis Simpson, who led King Edward VIII to give up the British crown, amongst others. Phylicia Rashad is one of them, but I have to say that fact always makes me cringe, because I always detested her character as Mrs. Huxtable on The Cosby Show. I realize TV is not reality and she is probably nothing like the character she portrayed, but I guess I'm petty and superficial. And as for Paula Abdul, who's also celebrating today, I don't know what the **** is up with her!

In history, today had some highs and lows. The Rosenbergs were executed for treason; slavery was outlawed in the U.S.; Father's Day was first celebrated; the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was approved; and the F.C.C. was created.

As for my personal history, yesterday two of my girlfriends took me out for Mexican (yea strawberry margaritas!), today I'm at work, but tonight my husband and daughter are taking me out for sushi (yea California roll!). And tomorrow night we'll have cake after watching my daughter's performance in "The Princess and the Pea" as Bride #2. I can't wait!

Puzzled

mabel

I am so hooked on puzzles right now. I know, it's feeding into my OCD tendencies big time, but there are times it keeps me from overeating, so I guess it's a positive.

Will write more soon. I swear.

Adventures in Boredom

Remember yesterday when I said how quick and easy it was to get Mabel x-rayed and splinted at the ER? Well, I wish it had been that fast at the orthopedic doctor's office. It took TWO AND HALF HOURS for her to be seen and get a cast on her arm. I think 40 minutes was spent in the waiting room, another 15 minutes waiting in the exam room for the doctor. We saw her for 5 to 10 minutes, then had to wait another 45 minutes in the exam room for the physician's assistant to get to us to cast her. This took the rest of the 2 1/2 hours.

My wonderful daughter did manage to entertain us with her antics. In the waiting room she was writhing in agony over her boredom. I asked her why she didn't bring her Nintendo DS along, and her reply was fast and mumbled (as usual), and I was sure she replied, "I wanted Lucky Charms but they died." This made us all laugh, and Hubby and I went on to ask her if it was the green pots of gold or the blue moons that actually died. In truth, she forgot to charge her DS, and that's what was dead.

During the interminably long wait in the exam room, Mabel was continuing her roller coaster ride of giggles, whining, mock crying, then back to the giggles again in this bizarre cycle of mood swings. During one of the whiny periods she asked us, "Do I have to go to Camp Aldo Nova?", referring to our unusually-named church camp (and it doesn't even remotely sound like Aldo Nova, by the way!). Hubby and I looked at each other and burst out laughing, both bursting into scary renditions of "Fantasy." This definitely helped relieve the drudgery of sitting there in the empty vacuum of a doctor's office.

But we finally got the heck out of there and manged to get back to our hometown just as the rain began, dampening our opportunity to go to our local volunteer fire department's carnival/block party. This has been a tradition in our town for generations, and every kid in the area looks forward to the week of rides, games, cotton candy, funnel cakes and candy apples. The adults play Bingo, eat hamburgers and hot dogs in our hometown bakery's rolls that everyone adores, and moan over how much money their kids beg them for to play "just one more game." We managed to get our supper and dessert, but it was too wet to ride, and we didn't really want Mabel out in the rain with her new cast. She was bummed, but I promised to take her later in the week. Hopefully the weather forecast will improve for us. But rain on Block Party week is pretty much tradition in these parts, too.

I must say the last two days my neck/shoulder/arm issue has been much better. There's still a little pain and ache there, but vastly improved from a week ago. Maybe I'm on the mend. Let's hope so.

Hand Out

I am not the only one in the house who is having physical problems right now. This past Thursday, the next-to-last day of school, my daughter (who I've referred to as Mabel in the past) broke her hand at the school carnival. She was trying to soak her teacher in the dunking booth and hit the target with the ball, but not hard enough to activate the dunker. The rule was that if this happened, the kids were allowed to go up and hit the target with their hand.

I'm assuming the apparatus was something like this image at right, because from what I've been told, once she hit the target with her hand, it sprang back and smashed the back of her hand. In typical drama queen fashion, I'm told she fell to the ground (which for 24 hours both the school nurse and I thought was the only thing that happened), then leapt up and gave the Ronnie James Dio rock 'n roll hand (with the uninjured hand) and yelled, "I'm alright!"

But she wasn't. She went to the nurse, gave one of her indecipherable explanations that make adults' heads spin, and got an ice pack. She came home, gave me a similarly convoluted tale, so I continued the ice packs and Ibuprofen. She didn't complain of a lot of pain, and the hand wasn't discolored, but I started to worry the next morning when the swelling didn't seem to be going down. It was the last day of school, and they only stayed for two hours, so I sent her with a note for the teacher to send her back to the school nurse for her second opinion. Once my daughter returned to the nurse she finally gave the full story of the killer dunking booth, so she called me and let me know, and it was pretty obvious that I needed to get this looked at.

I called the orthopedic doctor we went to three years ago when, again, on the last day of school, we took our Danger Prone Daphne there to cast a broken leg. Like me, we once again dealt with the medical rural community; no one who could cast her would be in the office until Tuesday. So when Mabel got off the bus we got in the vehicle and went to the ER. The good thing about rural medicine is that our emergency rooms tend to be pretty quiet, especially during the day. So we had a very short wait (probably shorter than most doctors' offices) and got right in to get x-rayed. Sure enough, there's a broken bone in the center of her hand, the bone below the middle finger. They put a splint on her hand and forearm and put it in a sling, and we were out of there in about an hour. Not bad.

Here's the cute 9 year-old part: At first Mabel didn't know what a splint was and was really scared about it. Once it was explained to her, she calmed down, but then asked me if she could get a splinter from a splint. Then, after we got the diagnosis and the nurse went off to get the supplies, Mabel turned to me and said, "I bet I'm gonna' get a slingshot!" At first I didn't know what she meant, but then of course I figured out she meant sling. When her daddy showed up at the end of the procedure she proudly showed him her "splinter in her slingshot."

Of course, we still have to get it casted, and that happens this afternoon. I think my daughter was born shot out of a cannon, and it's been incredibly difficult these past few days to keep her from leaping about, balancing on curbs, crawling into our Suburban through the window. We keep explaining to her that she needs to be careful until we can get her hand in the cast, but she can't seem to control her unending energy. It's also a major bummer because now she can't do her gymnastics, which she is so good at, and now she's going to fall behind, especially with her upper body strength. Besides that, she can't play piano, ride her bike or roller blade. If she's lucky she'll get a waterproof cast, or else she can't go swimming, either. What a way to start summer vacation.

So in a way we're having some mother-daughter bonding with our bum arms. One thing we can do is walk, and since we are both participating in a 5k walk June 14, I've been taking her out to train by walking around town. We're up to 2 miles now, and I have to say I'm a little surprised that her stamina isn't better. This child works out hard at gymnastics 4 to 6 hours a week -- the child has fantastic muscle tone -- but I realize now that the majority of that work is in short, fast bursts. They run laps, but only for a few minutes. She's not used to walking non-stop for 45-50 minutes straight. So it's definitely a conditioning experience for her, and we also get to talk and experience things together without a television or computer screen in front of us.

What a Pain

Okay, I realize it's been almost a month to the day since I've posted last. I'm not pleased with that, and apologize to those who've posted messages here and I haven't responded right away.

For three and a half weeks I've been dealing with nearly constant pain in my neck, shoulder and arm, with some infrequent tingling in both arms. For those of you who have been with me from the beginning of my blogging life, you'll know about my previous problems in this area, which is fully documented in this old blog entry.

I have tremendous respect for people who deal with permanent chronic pain, because these past three weeks have been tough. I rarely get through a full night's sleep without waking up with my shoulder and arm in agony.

You may wonder if I'm getting this treated. Almost two weeks ago I called my surgeon, but it right before Memorial Day and he was away. To add to it, he is based out of Pittsburgh and only visits our Podunk little area once a week. But the nurse knew me from my previous visits there and took my health insurance information. The hope was that we could get an MRI scheduled and the doctor could have it on hand when I have my appointment. Well, because MRIs are so expensive, my health insurance won't approve it until they receive doctor's "notes." So now I have to wait until June 23 to even see the guy so he can write something up, THEN wait for approval from the health insurance, then get the MRI scheduled, have it done, then wait God knows how long to get another appointment with the doctor!

So in the meantime I'm popping Ibuprofen, trying to do the stretching exercises I learned in physical therapy last time, and icing the shoulder down. I did heat at first, which turned out to be a mistake, because while it felt good at first, it seemed to make the area even more inflamed later, and seemed to be causing the excruciating pain I was having at night. The cold treatment has cut that down greatly, thank goodness. It's still not gone, though. Sleeping involves a complicated operation of body and pillow positioning that still never gives me a completely pain-free night.

On the bright side, I really think the Clearing Emotional Blocks hypnosis CD I started last month has kept me sane through all of this. My irritability and frustration has been quite low, and I can only attribute my level of tolerance and calm to that half an hour I spend every night listening to the CD and relaxing my body while listening to those positive, affirmative statements and suggestions.

In fact, I truly believe the CD has helped me throughout my life. I'm much more patient with my family, which I'm really glad about because I didn't like how frazzled I would get in the mornings trying to get my daughter despite her lack of organization and tiny attention span. I feel calmer throughout the day and have found it easier to speak my mind in a calm, confident way. I have had a goodly number of stresses in my life right now -- I'll get to some here when I can -- and I'm amazed that I've been able to handle them as well as I have.

Now that my first month is over, I'm now beginning a month of the second CD, Intuitive Eating for Weight Release. I'm really hoping the CD will help me as much as the first one has.

A New Tool

Lately I have been trying to get back to reading IE forums and web sites, hoping something will click with me again. One of my favorites is from Linda Moran, whose book I read and liked. A few days ago she invited a hypnotherapist, Jennifer Poole, to the forum. She described what she does on a one-on-one basis, as well as her self-hypnosis/meditation CDs that she sells.

I went to her web site (www.EFTHypnosis.com) and looked around, and then I did some general searches online about hypnosis. What I liked about Jennifer's work is that she isn't about dieting per se. What she recommends is for people to first use her CD Clearing Emotional Blocks for a month, then use the Intuitive Eating for Weight Release CD. This all ties in with the work I've done in the past, particularly Karen Koenig, who stresses that to find a healthy relationship with food, we must first have a healthy relationship with our emotions.

I wondered if I would be a good candidate for hypnosis, and I did find some interesting sites online that can help you determine if it might work for you (like this one). One of the articles I read said that if you can really lose yourself in a movie, that's a good sign. I have always been like that and it seems to get stronger the older I get. A few weeks ago I watched "No Country for Old Men" and it made me physically unwell dealing with the suspense and violence involved. I got anxious, my stomach was in knots, and I actually had to leave the room at one point. Also, when I write (which I have been doing regularly -- hooray for me), if I'm working on a very intense scene I actually place myself in the character's place and wind up feeling all the emotions to help myself fully describe what's going on. I always considered these things to mean I was a very empathic person, and apparently it means hypnosis might work for me.

I did some e-mailing on the forum and received replies from both Linda and Jennifer that I really appreciated. Having some bonus dollars racked up on my credit card, I cashed them in and ordered the two CDs. They arrived in the mail yesterday.

I told my one friend about this purchase (before I received the CDs) and her reaction wasn't the greatest; she wasn't mean about it, but she definitely seemed to think it was a silly idea. I know that hypnosis has this reputation as a parlor trick a form of entertainment or a scam, but I've always been intrigued by it. Ages ago I asked my therapist about it (because someone asked me about it and I wanted her opinion to give them) and she raved about the success she had with it in the scope of pain management.

Now that I've done the first CD two times (it's recommended to do it once a day for the first month), I can give my initial review of it. Hypnosis has this connotation that it takes over your mind and makes you do and believe crazy things (i.e., every time you hear the word "hello" you'll bark like a dog). It's not a magic spell. As far as this CD goes, it is definitely part meditation, part visualization, plus a nice dose of reinforcement and affirmation to boot.

For a long time I've been "shoulding" myself about meditation. I've read and heard about it in many different avenues, and it really seemed like something that would benefit me. I let myself get too stressed out and worked up about things, and I have trouble finding ways to relax and let go that don't involve food. I would tell myself I would start doing it, but then I wouldn't know where to begin and worry that I wouldn't do it "right" (yes, Ms. Perfectionist!). So, for that reason alone, this CD is good for me. It guides you through a relaxation process that aids you in ridding yourself of the annoyances and problems that are floating in your conscious mind at that point in time.

The messages in the CD really hit home for me. I've always been plagued with feelings of low self-worth, that I'm damaged in some essential way, that I'll never be good enough, and these are all addressed in a positive, affirming way. One of the most powerful for me was when she simply said "you are okay." Such a small thing when you look at it here, but wow did it affect me. The first time through I had these thoughts arise in me of, "really? I really am okay?" that caused this burning in my chest like the onset of crying, but it passed without me forcing it away. In my regular, uptight state I would have confronted these positive, self-loving statements with my usual cynical, self-defense mode of "yeah, right." But in that relaxed state I was actually able to listen and for a moment believe that it's really possible to feel okay about myself. The best part for me is that after these statements it is suggested to say the word "yes" in your mind to help in the acceptance of these new beliefs.

When it's over and I get up, I feel so calm and content. I don't know if it's the relaxation part of it or the positive messages coming at me, or a combination of the two. I'm excited to see what happens after a week, then the month. And of course I'm really curious to find out what the second CD is all about.

Do I think hypnosis is a magic pill? Of course not. Like any other tool I'm using, whether it's talk therapy, cognitive behavioral therapy, medications or exercise, it only helps you when you use it. I'm sure like any of the other above mentioned methods, you can't just do it once or twice and expect to be cured forever. You only get a long-term benefit if you continue to do it in the long term. So, like everything else, the trick is to make the time and effort to make this an everyday part of my life. Because with every new tool I find, I seem to get a little bit better. Hopefully I'll soon have enough of an arsenal to really make some progress with this battle I've been waging with myself.

Here!!! I Is Hiding

Thank you to icanhascheezburger.com for this picture.

In hiding, you ask? I guess you could call it that. I feel like I've been in hiding from myself.

The sure sign that I'm in Escape (from myself) Mode is that I've returned to the one pleasure that has consoled me since my teens... fiction writing.

It started with the nighttime daydreaming my best friend and I started as preteens. To push out any stressful or nagging thoughts out of my head so I could get to sleep, I begin thinking about the characters, the story lines, and soon enough I'm drifting off to sleep.

But two weeks ago I took the next step. I dragged my manuscripts out of the attic and began scouring it, getting caught up in it again and wanting to do this twenty-something year old project some justice and finally finish the thing.

Because I started this story when I was in my teens, reading it now I can really see how my writing skills have improved over time. Part 2 is so much better than Part 1 (if I can ever finish the whole bloody thing, it will be three parts), in just about every aspect: the well-roundedness of characters, the development of plot lines, even the attention to detail is severely lacking in Part 1.

So, for the past two weeks, I've slowly started rewriting Part 1. It's definitely harder to get to now that I'm a wife, mother and employee; I don't have the luxury of staying up all night when inspiration hits, and battling the constant interruptions and pressing chores is quite the challenge.

I'm looking at this return to writing in two ways. On the one hand, it's a positive thing because I'm doing something I've always loved, using a talent I worked hard to develop, and it's pretty hard to eat an entire basket of leftover Easter candy when your hands are tapping away at a computer keyboard. The part that worries me a little is that in the past, I have enveloped myself into writing when I'm trying to escape something unpleasant in my life, usually something I have no control over. I guess I'm afraid I'm using it to run away from my life and lose myself in this fantasy world I've harbored in my mind since the mid-80s.

And yes, there have been some things in my life that have cropped up in the past month that have definitely been unpleasant. Nothing deadly, nothing permanently scarring (I hope!), but difficulties I wasn't expecting and that have been hanging around like a batch of no-see-ums flying around my face. A major bummer for sure.

Already on a couple of occasions my husband has complained I've been distant. Of course, in my defense, I'm in the middle of typing something when he tries to talk to me, so of course my mind is elsewhere. When I am making the time to talk to him (our early morning chats, our afternoon how-was-your days, our bedtime wrap-ups) I am entirely in the moment and paying attention. Ironically, when I'm trying to talk to him there's usually a TV on nearby and invariably he gets sucked up in some show and doesn't hear anything I say, and I almost always have to repeat every single word.

Come to think of it, he's been guilty of this interrupting thing when I try to read a book or talk to someone else on the phone. He reminds me very much of some pets we had when I was a kid. Every time my mom would try to read the newspaper, the cat would have to jump up on the newspaper, sometimes even lying down on it to make sure she could be the main focus. And our little chihuahua would get so jealous when Mom was on the phone that he would crawl around on her and do this fake sneezing thing to get her attention.

Am I comparing my husband to a lap dog? He is definitely loyal and affectionate and would protect me to the death. But sometimes that ... neediness can be a little suffocating. I've tried many times to explain to him that I grew up in a very independent family, that I learned to enjoy having a lot of space and alone time, and at this point I actually require regular portions of it to keep my sanity in our fast-paced, always-on-the-run lives. But the fact of the matter is, while that kind of life drains me, he thrives on it, and to boot, he's used to a very tight-knit family that was always doing things together and hated doing anything alone.

So there's the update on my life. Still hanging in there, trying my best to traverse these choppy waves and not capsize. The good news is I'm slowly working my way back to exercising regularly, and this week I've been walking on the treadmill every day. As for the eating, well... that's another post.

Low Frustration Tolerance

I haven't been writing, although I keep meaning to. I guess it's because my brain's so busy processing the information I've been absorbing, and I haven't been ready to write about it.

I've been writing a lot about "Three Minute Therapy," and for any of you who deal with overeating or smoking issues, I highly recommend reading Chapter 8 (this is the link for the entire chapter on the TMT web site). Like my previous reading, all of this made perfect sense to me, was something I already sort of realized, but I don't think I ever had it explained to me so succinctly.

I don't know if I ever heard of the term Low Frustration Tolerance before, but after reading this chapter, I knew for sure that I've got it in spades. Here is a list from the book of common thoughts of people with LFT:

I feel upset when things proceed slowly and can't be settled quickly
I feel upset about life's inconveniences or frustrations
I feel quite angry when someone keeps me waiting
I feel very sorry for myself when things are rough
I feel unable to persist at things I start, especially when the going gets hard
I feel unexcited and bored about most things

According to the book, LFT is caused by "the belief that life MUST be fair, easy, well-ordered, comfortable, exciting, pleasurable, interesting, or hassle-free. In any situation where life does not conform to such demands, the addict compulsively looks for a quick escape from these 'unbearable' circumstances."

Perhaps the only aspect of this that doesn't apply to me is the need for things to be exciting. I'm never bored and am quite content to live a life without a lot of highs, whether it's soap-opera type drama in my life, being surrounded by people to entertain me, or even the need to have some kind of noise (radio, TV, etc.) going on at all times.

But oh boy, do I ever get ticked off when I'm handed a lot of frustrating and inconvenient circumstances! I HATE it when people keep me waiting, and cover your children's ears from the cursing when I'm in a car and stuck behind slow drivers. I do get way too easily frustrated when hassles and problems are thrown in my way, and when things go wrong I definitely tend to feel sorry for myself. As for looking for the quick escape? You better believe it, and it normally comes in some form of carbohydrate.

This Low Frustration Tolerance particularly comes into play when one tries to stop the compulsive/addictive behavior. How many times have we given up dieting or gone back to the cigarettes because (from the book):

The pounds MUST come off quickly (or I MUST immediately never want to smoke again)

I MUST have a cigarette/cookie because I strongly want one.
Life SHOULD be more fun

If I start to feel bored or dissatisfied, I MUST feel better right away

I CANNOT STAND the frustration of being so deprived.

The discomfort is HORRIBLE.

And when we fall off the wagon we have even more MUSTy thinking:

I SHOULD have been born thin (or I SHOULD have never started smoking)
Life SHOULDN'T be so unfair
I SHOULD be able to eat whatever I want -- or smoke (without any consequences I dislike)
Controlling my eating (or smoking) SHOULD be easy

And guess what? All of these thoughts are irrational, too demanding and unrealistic. This is where the Three Minute Therapy can become so beneficial.

I haven't done any specific TMT exercises on this, but in the last few days the realization of my irrational beliefs and Low Frustration Tolerance have shed a new light on my current relationship with food and weight. When the negative thoughts come into my head I find myself automatically disputing them.

For the past three days I've been eating much more sensibly -- reasonable portions, a larger proportion of healthier foods -- and for the first time in months and months I don't feel resentful and full of self-pity about it. I'm also cranking up my exercise and getting much more disciplined with it. I'm telling myself I am not "going on a diet" and approaching it all more as an experiment, to see what feelings crop up and finding the beliefs behind them.

I'll let you know how this "grand experiment" unfolds and what I discover.

TMT in Action

This morning I had an incident that is perfect for Three Minute Therapy.

A. (Activating event): My daughter and I had a big discussion/argument about gymnastics. She has a meet this weekend and she thinks she needs to go to practice every night this week to get ready for it. I don't think she should be going every night because she'll be exhausted by the time the meet finally comes on Saturday. I told her I wasn't planning on taking her tonight, and I wished she had told me all of this last night when her father was home so we could discuss it. (One of the other moms and I trade off nights driving the kids to practice, and this was the other mom's night) It got even more confusing when she told me the other mom "might" take her again tonight because she's taking her daughter. But I couldn't get a solid answer on it.

At first she got very angry at me and was giving me terrible attitude, including aggressively tossing her agenda at me when I asked her for it so I could sign off on her homework. Then she went into martyr mode and first said she didn't want breakfast, then said she might not even want to go to the meet.

We also got into this frustrating and confusing conversation about the registration fee for the tournament. I paid a fee (to the gymnastics group) for a February match that was cancelled, and I assumed that fee would be applied to this March match. But now my daughter says she isn't sure this was applied to the March match or if we'll even get our money back for the February match. The coaches are NOT good at distributing information to the parents and my daughter's knowledge of what's going on is shaky and changes every five minutes.

B. (irrational Belief): My daughter SHOULD tell me what's going on at gymnastics as soon as she gets home. She SHOULD remember important details and SHOULD NOT change her story every five minutes. She MUST show me respect and not give me attitude. The coaches SHOULD be better at getting this information to the parents and SHOULD NOT rely on little kids to do it. I MUST know what's going on. I SHOULD be more proactive and chase these coaches down for information. I HATE it when I don't know what's going on, and I SHOULD NOT feel confused and out of control. I MUST not screw up this registration situation, which could keep my daughter from competing, or I will be a TERRIBLE mother.

C. (emotional Consequences): Anger and anxiety

D. (Disputing or questioning your "must," ) My daughter's 9 years old. Why should she be expected to remember details exactly and be responsible for relaying all important information to me as soon as possible? When my daughter joined this team no contract was signed by the coaches stating they must be excellent at communicating to the parents. Nor was there any rule that stated I had to chase them down to find out what's going on. Why should I be exempt from being out of the loop and out of control? And where is it written that messing up a registration fee makes me a terrible mother?

E. (Effective new thinking): I would PREFER that my daughter treat me with respect and not lash out at me, but at her maturity level it's normal for her to overreact or respond irrationally. It's frustrating when I have to deal with her anger or self-pity, but it is not something that should infuriate me. I would PREFER that my daughter report to me as soon as possible and accurately about important things. But she's an imperfect human child whose attention span is limited and whose priorities are not the same as mine, so it's to be expected that she would jumble or forget things. The fact is that from time to time that I won't know what's going on and will not be in control of every aspect of my life. This can be very frustrating, but not something that should make me anxious and upset. I would PREFER not to mess up the registration fee for this match, and it would be disappointing if she couldn't go, it would not be a tragedy. This one mistake will not change my overall definition as a person.

F. (new Feeling): frustration and a little confusion, but not anger and anxiety

What's so great about this method is that instead of feeling guilty for getting so angry and foolish for being so anxious, I can dissect the incident and get to the truth of the matter, which is that I'm not really angry at my daughter or the coaches, but all of my MUSTY thinking. And the anxiety comes from the harsh demands I put on myself and feeling scared and bad about myself because I'm not meeting those incredibly high and often irrational expectations.

Three Minutes

In my recovery time after my bout of the flu (the worst I've had in some time, even with a flu shot) I read a book I've heard a lot about and finally ordered. Three Minute Therapy: Change Your Thinking, Change Your Life, explains the basics of Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy (REBT) in a very understandable format.

I've already looked into cognitive behavioral therapy (which was spawned from REBT) to deal with issues in my life, but like any other project, it can feel overwhelming and you're not sure where to begin or if you're doing it right. The great thing about Three Minute Therapy is that it gives you the outline of an easy to grasp exercise that can tackle any issue that arises.

The main concept of REBT and this book is that our thinking causes our emotions, not the incidents that happen to us. It's our beliefs about those events that influence how we feel about them and lead to our behaviors. I realized in reading this book that I've been skirting around this REBT concept for some time but didn't have the tools to put it into action. This book does it in a "baby step" ABC method that makes it seem like something I can accomplish.

It really made me realize how many demands I put on myself, others and the world in general. I MUST be the best at whatever I'm doing; my family MUST think, feel and behave the same way I do; and the world MUST treat me fairly and everything in my life MUST go smoothly. And when this doesn't happen I let my emotions run wild.

I suppose I knew this before I read this book, but it really hit home for me in so many ways as I've been struggling over a lot of issues and emotions these last several months. It addresses my perfectionism, my all-or-nothing thinking, as well as the depression, anxiety and overeating that have resulted.

For example, one reoccurring problem I have is my anger and resentment about the housekeeping duties in our house. Here is a Three Minute Therapy exercise that pinpoints my beliefs and how they are affecting my emotions:

A. (Activating event): For the nth time I'm cleaning up the living room and it's mostly clutter and garbage that my husband and daughter left behind.

B. (irrational Beliefs): My house MUST be neat or I'm a terrible housekeeper, mother and wife. My family MUST be neat and clean up after themselves. I SHOULDN'T have to clean up their messes.

C. (emotional Consequences): Anger and resentment.

D. (Disputing): Who says my house must be neat? There is no judge or jury examining my housekeeping abilities and giving me a pass or fail grade. There is no rule in the Constitution that says that my family must share the same level of neatness that I desire. Where is it written that I shouldn't clean up after my family?

E. (Effective new thinking): I PREFER to have a neat house, but it does not equate to my worth as a human being. I WOULD LIKE my family to clean up their clutter, and it’s disappointing that they don't. Being imperfect humans, they are going to be messy sometimes, maybe even a lot. Rather than making myself angry and resent my family, I had better face the fact that if I want my living room neat, the probability is that I will need to take care of it.

F. (new Feeling): disappointment, but no anger.

What's nice about this is that you can still feel rational emotions (like the disappointment above), but this method enables you to talk yourself down from that irrational ledge that makes you feel out of control or guilty about it later. (This guilt is a secondary emotion, which is also addressed in this book, but more on that later.)

I am going to try to do at least one Three Minute Therapy a day, or at least when an issue rears its head. I'm not going to make it a MUST, because that's pretty self-defeating, isn't it? Let's just say I would PREFER it if I can do this regularly!

Sending Regrets

My apologies for the long absence. Last week was a killer with lack of sleep and lots of stress, and surprise, surprise... I wound up catching my husband's flu. So I've been really out of it and didn't have the energy for much of anything. Still not 100% but I am back to work. Will get back to regular posting soon.

A Day in Bath

While we all enjoyed the sights and sounds of the city, I'm pretty sure we all really loved the day we spent outside of London. Before we left for our trip we sent e-mails back and forth debating where we should go, and the two towns we settled on were Cambridge or Bath. After receiving some recommendations from friends, we settled on Bath, and we were not disappointed.

When I visited England in 2002 I spent the majority of my time in Cornwall with my sister and her family. This was a vastly different experience than the one I was having in London, and I thought it was a great idea for the first-time visitors in our group to get a taste of life outside of the city.

There are two main attractions that dominate the tourists in Bath -- the Abbey (at left) and the Roman hot spring baths (the museum at right). They are located in the same square in the center of town, so it made sense to visit both of these places. The thing I've told everyone who I've talked to about this day trip, I really wasn't sure what to expect out of Bath. I didn't know if we'd get there and wind up twiddling our thumbs all day. But I must say I was pleasantly surprised at the amount of things to do there and couldn't even get to: if I ever get back there I will make the effort to go to the Jane Austen Museum and the Museum of Fashion (or Costume, as they say over there).

The Abbey was wonderful. As pretty as the architecture was on the outside, the inside totally blew me away. Our churches at home in Podunk, Pennsylvania just can't compare to the majesty and grandiosity of these houses of worship. The ceilings, the floors, the pews and the pulpit were all incredible in their intricacy and workmanship. Something you also don't see in small town American churches were the memorial plaques and statues on the floors and walls of the church. Everywhere you looked there were tributes to people, everything from a simply worded slab of stone to an intricate work of art. And each one told a story of a life, some hundreds of years old. This church had the main altar, then some side chapels on each side. To the right of the altar was the Gesthemene Chapel, and I loved the altar frontal designed by Jane Lemon. Next to the abbey was the vaults, which had been converted to a museum noting the history of the church. One of the things I couldn't get over in my many experiences in England was just how old everything is. I mean, we're talking 1,000, even 2,000 years old! Where I live it's amazing to have a building still standing from the 1770s, when this region was first populated by settlers. In England that's relatively new stuff.

To really bring this home, just go across the square to the Roman baths. In the Victorian era the ruins of these baths and temple were discovered, and the museum built up around them to preserve and protect them. Not only are you amazed at the age of this find, but also the 2,000 year old technology that still works! Can you imagine our current plumbing and heating systems still working in 4008? We're lucky if we can get a toaster to last five years! The natural hot springs these baths take advantage of maintain a constant temperature of around 80 degrees F, and if you look at the picture closely you can see the steam rising off the water. All kinds of artifacts were discovered around these baths: remnants of a temple dedicated to Minerva; intricate tile work; offerings and curses given to the gods to thank them for their gifts or to seek punishment for those who did them wrong; stone grave markers and coffins; little trinkets, hair implements and other tools the Romans used. It was a great experience, and the hand-held audio tour gadget they give you does an excellent job of explaining everything at your own pace.

After touring both places we worked up an appetite for lunch, and I was the instigator of where we went. At the Bath train stop there was a tourism center and I picked up a pamphlet for Sally Lunn's. One of my goals for my England trip was to get the chance to eat some scones with clotted cream, also called a cream tea. I was introduced to this delicacy on my trip to Cornwall and longed to experience that culinary delight again. Most of the meals we ate in London were at pubs and it appeared our plans to go to a high tea in the city were not going to happen. So when I saw the flyer for this tea room I told my travel companions we had to check it out. What a fantastic experience! The outside of the building was charming enough, but the inside was so quintessentially English that we all fell in love with it. We all tried sandwiches made with the famous Sally Lunn buns, then while the others got a piece of apple pie with clotted cream, I got my Cornish Cream tea and savored every second of it. It was so fun and quaint and really what you would picture in your imagination of a countryside English tea.

On the way home on the train we all talked about the fantastic day we had, got a good laugh at some of the silly photos we had taken (sorry, I didn't show them here!) and our two first-timers said that if they ever come back to the U.K. again, they would seriously consider spending most of their time in Bath. So it's pretty obvious our day in Bath was well worth it!

A Day in London

The day after our bus tour, we had what I would consider our most hectic day. In one day we visited the Tower of London, took the boat down the Thames from the Tower dock to the Westminster dock (where you can find Big Ben, Parliament, etc.), walked through the Victoria Tower Gardens to the Tate Britain museum. We then took another boat that led us directly to the Tate Modern museum and The International Shakespeare Globe Centre (we only toured the Tate Modern). After that we walked across the Milennium Foot Bridge, which led us in the general vicinity of St. Paul's Cathedral, although we got there too late to tour inside. At that point we walked our way back to Picadilly Circus; while our one companion parted ways with us to meet up with an Irish pal, the rest of us headed back to the Tower of London subway stop for a Jack the Ripper walking tour. This is quickly compiled in a paragraph, but let me tell you, this was a hell of a lot of stuff to do in one day. The Tower tour itself took two hours or so to complete.

Unfortunately, it was then that my legs gave up on me and I had to say "uncle." I felt horrible about it, because the other two really wanted to do this walking tour, but I was pretty much at the brink of tears at this point and knew I had to listen to my body screaming at me to quit walking! All I know is, I wish to God I had a pedometer on me that day, because I would love to know how many miles we walked from 8 a.m. to 10 p.m. that day, including all the strolling around inside each museum as well as all the foot travel we did getting too each place and all the wrong turns we made. I'm guessing 10 miles.

They were incredibly kind, however, and we wound up going for Indian food instead, which I must say was fantastic. And they did get to go the next evening, so it wasn't like I cheated them out of their experience, just delayed them 24 hours.

So here's my overview of that crazy day:

The Tower of London was amazing. I don't think it would be right to say I enjoyed it, because a lot of its history is very, very sad. Within the past two weeks I've watched both Elizabeth movies with Cate Blanchett, and in the first one the young princess gets locked up in this building at left, the White Tower. I think the films were all the more moving for me since I recently walked on the very floors she did and experienced the menacing and intimidating might of these big stone prisons. Even more emotional was the statue at right, which is on the spot where Elizabeth's mother, Anne Boleyn --unfortunately only one of several prisoners -- was beheaded. Our audio guide suggested that we imagine walking up to this spot as a person facing their last minutes on earth. Not a happy place, let me tell you. However, behind that statue in the large building was the home of the Crown Jewels, which was quite a sight to behold. I've never seen so much gold and so many jewels in one place in my entire life. Quite impressive.

After we thoroughly explored the Tower of London we hopped on the boat and traveled the Thames. My best picture of that jaunt was this one of the London Eye. That's the closest I got to it; I really had no desire to go that high in the sky. Looking back I probably shouldn't have let my fear of heights let me stay away, but in the end we were so busy doing everything else that the regret isn't that bad. Besides, I have to save something for the next time I go to London!

When we got off the boat we were at Westminster, and my one travel companion got to achieve one of his goals by having his picture taken next to this statue at right. I took photos of this the first time I was in London and could understand why. The woman in the chariot is Boudica, Britain's warrior queen who fought against the Roman occupation of England. Click on the link to read more about her and this statue. Having named my daughter after another ancient British warrior queen, I tend to have a fondness for these strong women of history.

We of course walked past Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, then entered the Victoria Tower Gardens. It wasn't as crowded as the main streets, which made for a more relaxing walk, and I found it lovely, even in January. The weather was nice enough for a group of men to pick up a game of rugby with Parliament in the background (I took a picture but it came out very dark). My favorite landmark in the gardens was this statue, the Buxton Memorial, which commemorates the emancipation of slaves following the British 1833 Slavery Abolition Act.

I must have been dealing with the first wave of exhaustion by this point because I didn't even think of taking any pictures at the Tate Britain. We were hungry, too, because we had lunch first at the museum before looking around. I had a cheddar and ale chutney sandwich which was quite good. I noticed you could buy beer and wine in this museum cafeteria, which I'm pretty sure isn't common in American museums.

My main goal at the Tate Britain was to see this painting, J.W. Waterhouse's The Lady of Shalott. Waterhouse is one of my favorite painters, and this piece in particular has been very dear to me. I've owned a print of this since high school, and it has adorned my walls in college dorms, apartments, and every house I've lived in since. It was amazing to see it in person; just the enormity of the painting (78.8" x 60.28") was awe-inspiring. But to see the actual brush strokes, the level of detail one can't see in my print, made it all the more beautiful. I realized something as I recalled the story; while at first glance this woman seems sad and weak, she actually has a lot in common with Boudica. They both faced impossible odds (Boudica facing the army of the Roman Empire, the Lady a curse that kept her imprisoned in a castle and unable to look at the world directly). Both made heroic but tragic decisions that led to their deaths.

I found so many paintings here that I loved. I'm a big fan of the Pre-Raphaelite and Victorian era art, and this place was jam-packed with it. And the sculptures were fantastic, too.

We then traveled by boat to the Tate Modern. Other than getting to see Claude Monet's Water Lilies (After 1916) I have to admit I wasn't too impressed by the majority of the art I saw there. I guess I'm an old fogey at heart and can't get into "modern" art. I found myself looking at several pieces and thinking my 9 year-old daughter could do a much better job. It didn't help that I was seriously hurting by this point and was much more interested in finding a seat to rest my feet and legs than being inspired by modern artists.

The biggest feat my one travel companion had was traversing the length of the Millenium Bridge, called the "Wibbly Wobbly Bridge" when it first opened to the public because something was wrong with the fortifications and the first people to walk across it were bounced around like a fun house attraction. This has been fixed and it's perfectly safe now. When I first heard about the bridge and saw it from afar I was a little leery, but once we were facing it I wasn't scared at all. While it looks narrow in this picture it seemed much wider when we were actually on it. If I had been forced to look down at the Thames River below the entire time I probably would have gotten vertigo and filled with anxiety. My friend wasn't so lucky. The other two travel companions and I literally surrounded him as we went across, a cocoon of safety for him as he sweated and fretted. This photo of his victorious finish on the other side was a testament to his bravery. And unlike Queen Boudica or the Lady of Shalott, his heroic choice didn't end in death!

Wow, it took me two days to post this blog of my one day's adventures! Just proof of how much we crammed into our schedule.