Sunday, September 2, 2012

Small Joys

Small joys can make life worth living.  Seeing two beautiful golden retrievers in the back seat of the car in front of me as I drive to work, hanging their smiling heads out opposite windows as the wind flaps their ears and lips.  My carefully tended lantana plants in many different colors, blooming all at once (a rare occasion).  Going to Silver City over the weekend and finding out that trails have been developed in the City-owned open space and having a serendipitous tour of an area formerly forbidden--climbing to the top of Boston Hill and then winding down the rocky, wildflower-lined trails back to downtown.  A dinner out with my husband where they had the same Lancer Rose my mother used to drink when I was a kid.  A sparking glass of Ayinger Brau-Weiss, so crisp and delicately fizzy that it's almost like champagne.

Buying myself an early birthday present at the wonderful estate store in Silver City--a hard-to-find turkey platter in my china pattern.  Plus my Silver City friend Carol bought me the teapot I didn't have.  Another early birthday present.  I'm pretty much done collecting this stuff--the pieces I don't have are pretty esoteric, like an awkwardly shaped oblong three-sectioned relish dish, thick juice glasses, or a set of three mixing bowls so hard to find that they would cost hundreds to buy and would never be used.  I might buy the candlestick holders, though, they have a plump round shape that makes them look sort of like egg cups that have been split in two.  Unusual,  but I'm drawn to them.  How lovely to be in a place in life where I can actually buy and enjoy these pretty things.

Physically I'm a wreck.  Even though I took two very long steep uphill walks while in Silver City, and am thus well-exercised, I'm so puffy with retained water that I'm miserable.  My feet and ankles are noticeably bigger.  My fingers feel plump and my chest area is so miserably sore and tender it's reminiscent of early pregnancy.  It hurts just to put on a top, let alone a bra.  Ouch.  I lumber around the house.  I'm hot and sweaty when no one else is.  I have no idea what I weigh, nor do I want to know.  I ate three Oreos.  I don't even like Oreos.

What to do?  I told  my husband the other night, in all seriousness, that I may not lose the weight.  It's the only thing that calms me down sometimes after a stressful day.  Plus, overeating is habit and my brain receptors scream very insistently when I deny them their simple carb fix.  I'm like smokers I've seen when they don't have a pack of cigarettes.  I get antsy, restless, and very, very disappointed when I deny myself the drug of food.

But then I think of moving freely, being able to bound up mountains and backpack again, and see the incredibly breathtaking places I've been for yet another time, and new places, and not having raw chafed places on my inner thighs (yes, that happened yet again on Thursday while at work and I spent a very very uncomfortable next few days ministering to this friction-induced ailment), and the pain of not having food seems minor. 

I never know if OA is the answer.  I feel very self-absorbed when I contemplate the Steps and the type of things I would have to do to properly work them.  And it's not an excuse, I actually am terribly, terribly busy with a very demanding job that is not merely 8 to 5 and a young child still at home who's not particularly easy or low-maintenance. 

But fortunately, my weight has not made me impervious to the small joys in life.  I still get excited when I see a rainbow, or a group of lenticular clouds over the mountains.  My kittens bring me pleasure every day.  Looking at my youngest daughter's exotic eyes in just the right light (one is blue, one is half blue and half brown, makes an interesting effect).  Taking my soon-to-be son-in-law and daughter out for his birthday dinner.  Even the moment when I start to realize it's getting hot in the house and then, as if by magic, the air conditioner clicks on.  The feeling of my super-soft purple bedroom carpet under my bare feet.  An icy cold glass of seltzer and lime after mowing the lawn.  Leisure.  So many people in the world have no leisure.  Leisure is a wonderful thing.

So, all in all, life is really good.  And as I make my final countdown to the big Five-O (26 more days), I must say, life's been good to me so far.


Lantana!






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