Tin Foil and Vinegar

Out of the night that covers me
Black as pit from pole to pole
I thank whatever God's may be
for my unconquerable soul.

I have turned a corner. Was headed for the bottom again and God caught me. Thank Heaven for all the people who pray for and with me.

I have carpeted the carpet with tin foil. The cats hate to walk on it. All the pee spots are now gleaming with a shiny silver light. I bought a gallon of vinegar with which to annoint the rug and the house now smells of Cesar salad rather than urine. I caught Socks in the act, rubbed her paws in the urine and put her in her cat carrier for two hours. So far, so good. Right amount of pee in the boxes this morning and no new wet spots for two days.

Have come to terms with dog. I have a small house and a large dog and two cats. I am going to have to learn to live with the pet mess. I can do it. The cats are learning to adjust also. Yesterday when Mollie was asleep they took turns jumping over her. I think this was meant to terrorize her, but it didn't work. She slept through it all. After the failed jumping torture they gave up and also took naps, within two feet of the dog.

When it came push to shove, Mark did not want to give the dog back. Said he had to take her "snow swimming." We have feet of snow. The dog plunges into it and sort of swims around. She loves it. Eats it by the gallon. Dog ice cream. Mark is very interested in training her. Has taught her to obey most commands. I am having more trouble. Turns out I am not an alpha male. Who would have guessed? She won't obey until I get mad. I hate getting mad all the time. She pushes until I have about had it, then when I am ready to throttle her, she obeys. Go figure.

Markovian theory: The cats are collaborating on a canine cookbook,"Fillet de Fido." Pounded Pekingese, Roasted Rottweiler, and Shiatsu Sushi are a some of the highlighted recipes. They expect to make millions and by our dog a good home.

Back on food plan, Thank Heaven. Not buying anymore salsa. Whoever heard of salsa being a trigger food? Also Swiss steak and jambalaya. It is the combo of tomatoes and onions. Guess what folks, very high carb those veggies together. No wonder I love it.

Okay life begins again. One day at a time. Shovel frozen dog poop, dress the carpet with vinegar, and do the laundry. By the by, we got the storm windows up in the computer room. I can now see out the window and the snowy mountain valley before me is breathtaking. I am grateful to be alive.

Take care. Love Bea

"Just a bit of gruel,

and a dog bone and a rawhide chew thing and lots of dog food and lots of people food, please?" I refuse to believe this dog is starving to death, but she believes it. We have much in common.

Help. I can't stop eating. Why? I am trying to work the food plan, and I do okay for a few hours, and then blammo, binge time. Ate a jar of salsa and a loaf of nut bread yesterday... together. I hate myself. My boobs and butt are growing as I type. Why can't I stop? I am scared.

I am depressed. Not just low after the holidays, but damn depressed. I am back to the pointless person phase. I know this is crap. I cannot seem to drag myself out of the pit. I ask for God's help and then either don't recognize the help or outright refuse it. Farts.

The cats are still peeing all over the house. It stinks in here. My renovated clean house is now filthy with cat piss. Socks attacked Mollie again this morning. Thank God the cats are declawed. Sent Mollie into fits and she knocked over a cup of tea. Stained the carpet. I don't think I can live like this. I think the dog will have to go.

Mark did not want her from the beginning. He plays with her a little but won't let her upstairs anymore since she broke some of his Japanese tea pot collection. We are not super neat people, but it is like trying to live with a horse in the house. A nervous horse. I thought this could work. I did not bargain on getting so depressed at the filth and disorder I could barely function. I am not willing to live in a torn up pigstye. Reminds me too much of living with my mother.

Everyone keeps telling me it will get better. And I think it might. And we now have to replace the new carpet in the bedroom and living room. And we are broke. Because we just put down new carpet in the bedroom and living room.

Mollie is not going to get smaller. She is never going to want to hang around with me in the house like the cats do. After an a couple of hours in the house she explodes out the door and runs around hell bent for election for fifteen or twenty minutes. Then she is ready to go for a walk or play fetch. Whomper Dinky now lives under our bed. She only comes out at night when the dog is crated. Comes out to eat and drink, and pee on the carpet. I miss her. Socks is fighting a rear gard action. But at least she is visible.

I am so conflicted I could...eat. I give the dog back and feel like a traitor to myself, or I keep the dog and resent the heck out of her every day. If I give her back I will worry about her all the time. I will also feel like the shittiest person on earth. I have boxed myself in. Help.

Take care. Love Bea

Merry Christmas from Mark, Bea the cats and the dog.

I hope you all have a blessed Christmas and a festive New Year. Don't work too hard, eat too much or stress out.

TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES. Love Bea

Frozen Dog Poop and Time

If anyone had told me I would daily shovel frozen dog poop into a plastic garbage can I would have called them fools. But, I am doing it. I use a rose spade.

We are now wireless. My email will have to change for the blog. So, as I do not yet know how to change it, I may be gone again for awhile. If you sent me an email message, I can't get to them. MSN/Qwest is holding them hostage. I have to sign up for dial up to retrieve the messages. I am not going to do it to read 49 messages and then quit the service. I tell you what, getting services in the wilds of Wyoming is a trip.

I am back on my food plan. Am rereading Kay Sheppard's books. I have rebelled against NEVER being able to eat "normally" again. But, I will NEVER be able to eat sugar without a trigger reaction. If I eat sugar, I eat sugar.

Cleaned house! I feel worlds better. Used shop vac and cat urine killer on the carpets. Put tin foil over the pee places. The cats hate it. Whoopee. Dog-dog untied her rope today and went on walkabout. She came back thank God. I watched her unscrew caps off water bottles and drink the water, why am I surprised she can untie knots? This dog is gonna kill me.

Okay, I have to go back to house cleaning. I found the "clock of doom." Mark says it goes, "snick, snick, snick' and "slices off seconds of his life." He has a thing about clocks, and wristwatches. I am putting it up anyway.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

A Cancer

Thank you all for your support. I needed and need it. I am trying to type up here amongst the boxes and debris. The detritus of my life. We can't find any of the mouse pads so are using some magazine about WWII. And it sticks. No storm windows so window is blocked off with a blanket. Dog is snoring. She is happy to be where ever I am. Am having awful email troubles. Can't get to it. We are supposed to be totally wireless on Friday. Means new email address. Maybe then I will be able to access the old messages. There is not one thing in my life untouched by this move. I have no center....

I am apparently trying to create a chocolate nougat one. Washed down a bag of chocolate covered pretzels with a jar of salsa yesterday. God help me, I thought I was done with all of that. I weighed 191 this am. That is ten pounds up. What if it doesn't stop? Will I weigh 250 again? I feel helpless and frightened. I have seen how people, who thought their cancer was cured, react when they are told "new spots were found." That would be me. The life threatening fat is back in spite of all my efforts. I don't seem to have any fight left in me. I can not get back to my food plan. I buy the healthy stuff, and then we go out for greasy hamburgers. The healthy stuff rots and I throw it out. Season of cheer is not helping me either.

I hate Christians who gripe and moan about Christmas. I currently hate me. I wish the damn day would just arrive already so we could be done with it! I am fat and in debt, I have a busted nose and the house smells like a kennel. (Mark says the cats are administering justice on the carpets.) I am ready for the new year.

Sorry about the pissing and moaning. I am trying to be cheerful but it is heavy (no pun) sledding at the moment. Had a massage yesterday. Almost couldn't stand for her to touch the returned blobs of fat. She told me all my chakras were totally shut down. Yeah, and my feet hurt too. Said I had no energy flow at all. What to do I enquired? "Have more fun" she said. I began to laugh and laughed until I peed. I am stony broke and up to my neck in cardboard cartons and cat urine and she tells me to "have more fun." And you know what, she is absolutely right. I have been working like a slave for almost four months now. No time off, just solid work. No wonder I am eating. A girl has to have a little pleasure in life.

So what to do? Beats me. A therapist once told me that at first nothing is ever as fulfilling as your fix. That would be me. My addiction/compulsion is at full throttle. At present nothing seems like fun but food. But that can change. I will take Dog-dog for walkies in a new place and get a fresh perspective. I will scrub kitchen floor (will make me feel A LOT better). I will read some blogs. And that is enough for today.

Thanks for listening. Take care. Love Bea

P.S. Do you all think those "diet dinners" make you hungry? I think they may be part of my problem. I am okay until I eat one at noon, and then it is downhill all the way.

P.s.s. Arlene don't fast. Never works. Get books, read books, start slow. Vickie and her "Baby Steps" is the way to do it. Cindy at "I Surrender" also goes at it in small steps. Now, with that good advice in mind, I myself am thinking of wrapping up in plastic wrap and getting into a sauna. Maybe the fat will melt.

Hi Guys

I can't really believe this computer works again. I am in shock. The wireless phone guy just left. I understood we wouldn't be up and running until Friday. I'm not sure how this is even working but I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I'm typing as fast as my little fingers can move.

Mollie and I are fine. I am getting better trained every day. I can sit and stay already and she is presently working on fetch. Too bad I'm so dumb or I would be learning faster. The dog can now operate the microwave and is thinking about taking up knitting. I am not sure a smart dog is an altogether good thing.

I am obese again. I was just plain old fat for a year, but obesity has found me. Has made a profound impact on my life, elastic waist pants, the mormon jumper, no makeup. I would rather stay in than go out.... I can't even write about it. I thought I could, but I can't.

Going downstairs now and cook supper. Dog-dog will most likely be whipping up the Bearnaise sauce.

So glad to be back. Will spend all day tomorrow catching up. Take care. Love Bea

P.S. Markovian theory: Labs would make excellent defense attorneys. They could convince you to believe anything.

Mollie Be Good

The dog broke my nose yesterday. She hurdled through the seats to lick my face as I was turning my head to back out of a parking space. Her head hit me and "crunch" went my nose, and my bumper as I backed into the pickup behind me. I look like I have been in a bar fight. It has been a long twenty four hours.

It has been a long two weeks. Come Sunday we will have had Mollie for a fortnight. So far she has chewed her way through a new box of humidifier filters, a gallon jug of distilled water, two tennis balls and a bone. We have purchased a child gate, pinch collar, short leash, dog food, dog bowls (which she has tipped over twice thereby finishing flooding the laundry room), fence posts and 100 feet of horse fence. Oh, and a new bumper. She has broken a lamp and scratched the heck out of the buffet and both of us. We have been on countless walks. She is scared spit less of the cats.

As I sit here with my aching head and non-functional nose I am deciding if I want to keep this dog. She may just be too wild. She is nice and there is not a mean bone in her body, but she is young and uncivilized. She was untrained before she went to live at the ranchette and two months of living in a field with thirteen other dogs just made her wilder. She appears to love me to the point of nuttiness.

Therein lies one of the problems. I can't stand it. She gloms onto me and won't go away. If I move so does she. She whines if she is not at my side. I can't get anything done. I have fallen over her twice. She is learning "sit" and "stay" but not fast enough. She is driving me batty. I finally had had enough a couple of days ago and yelled "just leave me alone." I recognized the voice. I used to follow my mother around trying to touch her. She hated it and would push me away saying the same thing. Gad. I also almost hit Mollie on the head with a wooden hanger. She was jumping on me for the umteenth time and none of the stuff I have been told to do was working. I was raging mad as I hollered at her and raised the hanger. She immediately cowered at my feet. I felt no compassion. I just wanted to strangle her. What I did was call her and put her in her crate. Then I went out side where I couldn't hear her whining for me. As I stood out on that freezing step I understood a little more about my mother and I.

Another lesson in intimacy. Another lesson in trust. I have been Mollie. I have not been my mothers. Now I am. After the hanger incident shame and self hatred washed over me and I have been attempting to anchor my self in the bottomless oblivion of food. Getting smacked in the nose yesterday may have knocked some sense into me. Forced me to come up for air (to carry the nasal theme a little further.)

Both of us, Mollie and I, were badly parented. Most of my rough edges have now been loved off by the God Given Ones in my life. I am no longer whining and panting for love. I am filled up. I need to learn to give love as much as Mollie needs to learn to receive love. We are a pair forged in Heaven.

I have located the blender. Still can't find my cookbooks. I must have inadvertently given my winter sweaters away, and I need them. We go wireless on the 20th. I will croak if we have to wait much longer. I NEED TO WRITE. It is no longer a choice. I write or wither up and die.

Hope you all are doing well. I miss you more than you know. Take care.

Love Bea

Bathing In Time

Found the answering machine and my cookbooks. Can only find one old phone. I am longing for the cordless phones. Remember phones with cords? Ick. You would think the phones would be with the answering machine wouldn't you?

We are in town today to get dog supplies and for me to use the computer. Mollie finally comes home tomorrow. I am apprehensive about the whole deal. I am most worried about the cats. Rocket Socks loves me and follows me everywhere. I think it may break her heart to have to share me. Whomper Dinky I think will adapt. She hates people and fears nothing. I think she will take Mollie in her stride. If any of you have any advice about how to introduce a canine family member into an all feline household I would welcome your words of wisdom. I have never had a dog before. Can you believe it? I am a fifty year old woman and this will be my first dog. Will be an adventure.

When we first moved up here I wrote about it being like going back in time. The feeling is stronger since we have moved into our new old house. I grew up in a house with a coal furnace and fuses. The movie "Christmas Story" depicts our life. Coal dust, extension cords and continually blown fuses. Welcome to my present. The coal furnace is gone thank heaven and the fuses have been replaced by breakers, but the inconvenience is the same. Our whole house seems to be wired to two breakers. I cannot run the kitchen baseboard heaters on anything other than low and the water heater at the same time. Makes for one cold kitchen. I cannot use the microwave and the toaster at the same time. Makes for one slow breakfast. I cannot vacuum and run the humidifier at the same time. If Mark shaves with an electric razor the t.v. quits. If this sounds funny I am not telling it right. Mark, who grew up in the suburbs, thinks we bought a pig in a poke and are going to burn to death in a huge conflagration. I just unplug something, wait for the breaker to cool off, and go on about my business. It is like second nature. We did it all the time as kids. I can cope wtih this.

It is the bath thing that bothers me. We have two bathrooms. Mark's is in the 1999 addition. It is beautiful and new. At least compared to mine. I think my bathroom used to be a bedroom. I'd say it was updated in the 40's. I have both a shower and a tub, separate. The shower is in rough shape. We haven't yet fixed it. I have been using the tub. The last time I took a daily bath was in high school. Some things you don't forget. Like the fuses/breakers, taking a bath came naturally to me. But something has changed. I am fifty, not seventeen. I had forgotten how athletic bathing actually is. I automatically went into my well remembered ablution routine, and got stuck in the tub. How I slithered around in that high school tub is a mystery to me. I can't do it anymore. I used to get on my hands and knees and rinse my hair under the faucet.... That's how I got stuck. If this sounds funny I am not telling it right. After Mark assisted me to my feet we went out and bought a hand held shower deal. I am moving the shower project to the head of the list.

Okay time to quit. We are going to go home and set up dog stuff and then come back into town for the Christmas Parade. Yep, tractors and horses and floats and the high school band. All covered in Christmas lights and good cheer. And then we all have hot chocolate and cookies out in front of the bank. My seventeen year old self is excited and my fifty year old self is delighted. It is good to be home in "time" for the holidays.

Hope you all had many blessing for which to be thankful. We sure did. Take care of yourselves, Love Bea.

...and a dollar short.

Found my shoes. Still no internet. Mollie dog comes home this week. Walked on the treadmill for fifteeen minutes today. Took me two and a half hours to find the saftey key thing so the treadmill would actually run. (Found it in with the cat food.) I am sick of being protected for my own good. If I fall off the side I am too dumb to be walking on it.

Very tired this eve, as usual. Went with Mark today to south office. Long drive but at least I was able to get curtain rings so I can put up curtains in the bedroom. Towels draped over the rods are getting to be a pain in the neck. No books unpacked, but the cable guys showed up. I have t.v. again. Finally got all the stuff moved from the garage into the house. I still have way too much junk.

Eating is fair to awful. Bought bigger size jeans today. Too depressing for words.

Will be more upbeat next week. Plan to spend Thanksgiving sleeping. Hope you all have a safe wonderful Holiday.

Take care. Love Bea

Home Again

Markovian Theory: "There are worse things than moving but then the war is over and you are discharged."

I am in Mark's office on his computer. Ours will not be set up for another month. We are going wireless and it turns out to be a big darn deal to switch. I will be posting from here on Sundays. Did you miss me? I sure missed y'all.

I am only four pounds fatter. I know, all the stuff I have been through in the last couple of months and my main concern is my fat. I know you know.

Moving was a mitigated nightmare. Only one horse trailer showed up to help, but, the weather was glorious and I got to see lawyers moving furniture. Took six of them to take down the clothesline. All chiefs and no laymen. Ver ver funny. All possessions arrived intact. A miracle.

Horse trailer et. all hauled over the furniture. Mark and I did the rest in the cars. For the last three days of October we got 2-3 hours sleep a night. So tired I was sick. That awful feeling you have after working four or five 12 hour night shifts in a row. Shampooing the carpets at 3am on the 31st was the worst. But we got it done. We got back our whole deposit plus some. The landlords paid us for the improvements we made to the house. As we were leaving a work force was arriving to fix water pipes, faucets, gas leak and electrical problems. Thank God we are out of there. Never buy or live in a house that faces north. Nothing but darkness and trouble.

New house faces west. Windows galore. Cats love it, and so do I. My "creepy flesh colored" living room and bedroom are beautiful. I put lace edged shelf paper on the kitchen shelves. The washer and dryer work when I push the buttons. We watch deer and elk on the mountain side from the breakfast table. I am content. Now if I could just find my shoes. I have one old pair of tennies I have been wearing for a month. I finally went out and bought another pair of shoes in desperation.

Came to the end of myself during this most recent move. Not a pretty sight. Found God at the end of me. Was a surprise. I almost never run out of me. Whole darn move has been about faith and my willingness to trust God. At the end of me, there was trust. I had no other options. I was granted strength, and peace and joy. Praise God.

Found no comfort in binge eating. Made me feel worse. Pattern of eating for pain relief is still present, but some of the nerve synapses must be dead. Thank God.

End of the line for this week. Going home to my snug little home and TAKE A NAP. See you next Sunday.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

Cheery Bye

I am leaving y'all for a while. Moving is in the dead heat faze. Boxes and tape and tears. Moving trucks and trailers show up Saturday. I hope the six inches of snow melts before hand. Painting is almost done. I will shampoo carpets today and tomorrow, I hope. My right arm is almost shot.

We will be in our new digs by Sunday. Mark leaves for out of town trial on Monday. I am trying to get his stuff together now because I'm not sure I will be able to find it on Sunday night. Mollie comes home on Monday. Cats aren't speaking to me. Found WhomperDinky sleeping in Mark's suitcase. I'm not sure what that means. Phone lines will be disconnected here on Saturday. Will be reconnected in new house on Monday. No High Speed Internet available in Grover. I will be back to using a dial up modem. Gad, will take me hours to read and post. Just found this out yesterday when phone company called up to ask directions to Grover....

Oh, by the by. The owners of the rental house are putting in a new water line. They began digging yesterday. They are trying to beat the ground frost. I have no water. Thank God for the new house. We are showering over there. I"m not sure how I am going to clean this house without water. We are hauling buckets of water from Grover to flush the toilets. I feel like a schizophrenic pioneer. Hard to cook without water. We are showering at the other house. I look like Hell.

I have come full circle. We were moving on the exact same dates last year. When I get more time I will do a retrospective of my year. For now I just have time to post this and then start taking the computer components apart.

Adieu dear friends, until we meet in the new house, take care of yourselves. Love Bea

Body Double

"Hacer frio."
" Yeah...and my feet are cold too." Sorry about that. It is one of my husband's favorite jokes. Snaining here at the moment. Will probably snow soon.

I'm better. Thank you God and friends. Once again I left my body in the dust and attempted to live in my head only. Must be my life's lesson to learn to live in my body. The screaming helped. Helped a lot. An amazing lot. I can roll with the punches again this morning. What seemed a crisis a few days ago now seems like...life I guess. My poor body.

No exercise (walking), lousy food, tension in neck and back, and minimal sleep. And I ain't 25 anymore either. No wonder I felt so bad. I was trying to "fix" the problem with my drug of choice, sugar, and prayer. Go ahead and laugh. It's funny. "Please God bless my addiction and make it more effective. Amen." Gad. I was attempting to logic my way out of the mess. If I could just figure out my motivations then all my problems would be solved, with God's help of course. Never dawned on me anything physical could be the main problem.

When I face stress I immediately move into my head. I attempt to figure out the problem, and solve it. I need to do just the opposite. Not all problems are solvable. I become anxious if I can't figure everything out. I hoard the stress/worry. I worry on the surface with the semi-fixable dilemmas and store the intractable stuff deep down inside. Periodically I bring up the insoluble cud and ruminate on it. I add it to the immediate conundrums. Makes a horrible wad of stuff I can't stomach. Our bodies and minds are not designed for worry. The brain needs to give the problem to God and the body needs to work out and off the pent up anxious energy. For some reason I feel threatened when my body naturally wants this physical expression. (Fear probably, from years of physical abuse when others got rid of their pent up energy on me.) So I eat to push the anxiety back down and keep it static. The screaming and pounding on the kitchen table were physical. (I broke the table.) In a round about overly dramatic way, my actions were healthy. Would beating the crap out of a tree with a red plastic bat have been better? Yes. Would a fast walk/run have been better yet? Absoflippinglutely. But the screaming worked. I am grateful I do not have kids. I understand my adopted mother m-u-c-h better today.

Okay I learned something. I NEED to pay attention to my body. The healthy food, the exercise, the massages, the new mattress, the bike, and the walking shoes are not luxuries with which I am indulging myself. If I am going to survive intact I have to have them. My body is not just a vehicle for my head. "I" am part and parcel of both. And my spirit. I have spent years and lots of money taking care of my head. I have felt guilty about every penny I spent on my body. (That Puritan upbringing you know.) No more guilt. I want to be a whole healthy person. I will attempt to really care about and for my body.

I have been up since 4am. We went over to the house at 5:30 and painted until 7am. Worked like a charm. I am now going to go for a walk. Nothing is happening weather wise at the moment. I will bundle up and breathe the cold mountain air. I will come home and have a nice cup of tea and do my devotions. And if all that it doesn't work out as planned I will use my new catch phrase..."Okay, whatever."

Take care of your whole selves, Love Bea.

Veneerless

Windows are in in the bedroom and bathroom. We had to take down the siding to get at the old windows. Friends came to our rescue thank God. Was a labor intensive project and we did not know what we were doing. Rain at end of the day did not help. But all's well and the new windows are stupendous. Washer and dryer are in. Same wonderful friends helped us tote them over to the new house. Minor hitch in the works. When I turn on the washer it flips the breaker to the kitchen heaters and the water heater. I did ten loads of laundry in cold water. While wearing a coat. At least I didn't have to get quarters first.

Began screaming yesterday during lunch. Couldn't stop. Scared both of us. Second time this has happened to me in past few years. Hollering lasted until I ran out of energy. Then I was relatively normal. Breaking point came I think when I went into the laundry room to get more paper plates and it was flooded. Faucet that washer had been attached to had been trickling for four days and carpet was squishy. Glad Mark was home. We got towels and attempted to sop up some of the water. Wet dry vac is at other house. We soon had a whole laundry basket full of wet towels. We got most of water out of the carpet and I set up some fans to try to dry the floor. We then sat down to eat our tuna sandwiches and apples. Mark announced he would be gone for the last week of the month as he had an out of town trial. And I started to scream.

I can' t move anymore. I used to move with ease. I now root quickly and do not want to be pulled up. I don't even like this rental house that much. (And it sure hates me.) I don't know what is my problem. I wanted a home of my own. I wanted to downsize. I liked the new house. And now I hate all of it. Mark says we are too old to start over with just a toothbrush, bible and the cats. But it sure sounds tempting. Why am I not coping? This is just a move. I have done it dozens of times. Just last October for starters. Why am I coming apart at the seams?

I hate women who can't cope. Who have to be pampered and protected lest they brake. I have prided myself on being strong. And we all know what they say about pride. Well I have fallen into the pit. Will I get as batty as my mother? Who knows. I keep praying but don't seem to comprehend the answers. I do believe all things work together for good so I hope to come out on top of all of this. But at the moment I am dragging bottom. I sure hope I don't start that screaming again.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

P.S. In rereading this I noticed I spelled break, "brake." Like to stop. Very interesting.

Truth

It is 2:56 AM and I am tired. Hot flash and various aches and pains awakened me. Have you noticed how you are who you are at 2 am? No veneer left.

Spent yesterday moving washer/dryer and fridge. Laundry room at new house is done. Is a beautiful color. I now can do the laundry without going to the washateria. Yeah. Windows and doors have all finally arrived. Friend will help Mark install them this weekend. That will also be good. Supposed to get down into the 20's and the wind is whistling through the old ones. Shed arrives on the 25th so we won't have to rent a storage thing for lawn mower and outside furniture. God is providing money from the oddest sources so it looks like we will even make the bills without borrowing. All in all everything is going good with the move. So what is wrong with me you ask?

It is the food thing. Anybody surprised? Sugar makes me happy. It is an unparalleled delight. Candy bars, fudge, cinnamon rolls, pie, ice cream, french fries and low calorie jam. I had all that...yesterday. I want nothing but sugar. I am planning for it. I am looking forward to it. I am stockpiling it. It has become, again, the bright spot in my life. I am an addict.

I cannot control my desire for sugar without help. God's help, friends' help, food plan help. My brain believes Intuitive Eating should and could work. My obsessive body and soul long for the comfort and oblivion of addiction. A truth I have been fighting against for a year. I can face hard times straight on without the cocoon of sugar or I can avoid pain wrapped completely in the cocoon of sugar. What I can't do is face trouble with only a little bit of sugar. It is all or nothing, black or white. I can deal with life clear headed, and suffer like everyone else, or I can escape pain padded in sweet cotton wool. If I eat sugar the pain relief is immediate. My trouble is once removed. Normal eaters do not derive this pain relief from eating. They get no chemical assist from cheesecake. Ipso facto, they don't over eat. Ahh the sweet seduction of my addiction. "Eat, and life will be made easier." Ipso fato. I over eat.

I have never understood the "clean" phraseology in relation to abstinence. I "get it" at this early morning hour. I feel contaminated by all the sugar and fat. Like I need a shower. I feel hung over. Ick.

Okay I am going to take some Mylanta and try going back to bed. Take a lesson from my descent into familiar bittersweet territory. Avoid the first bite. Thanks for listening. I am glad you all are out there. Bea.

Check In

Life she is a changing. Spent yesterday digging a ditch in front of the garage to drain away the water in the garage. Much rain and then snow had created a swamp, with a carport over it. Nothing like digging a ditch in rocky muddy ground, in a snow storm to perk up a girl's flagging spirits. I am now just existing from day to day.

In clearing out stuff to move I found my passport. From 1975. For an aborted trip to Italy. I was supposed to go with a church group to sing and to "witness" to heathen Italians. Read, Catholic Italians. I let my supposed best friend talk me out of going because I was not "spiritual" enough. She said I was only going on the trip because I wanted to go to Italy. She was going, she said, "Because her heart was breaking for all those unsaved Italianos." I prayed about it and knew in my heart of hearts she was right. My heart was not breaking for all those hell bound Catholic Italians. My main reason for going was to see Italy. I felt awful for attempting to fool God and the pastor about my real motives. With shame in my voice I confessed my sinful desires in front of the whole church, and then backed out of the trip.

What a load of bullshit. Sally, my ersatz best friend, wanted her other friend Kim to go rather than me. But I had signed up first. When I unsigned my self, Kim went in my place. Later she and Sally were arrested for being drunk in a fountain. They came home to heroines' welcomes from the church in spite of it. And they had memories to last a life time.

The moral of this tawdry tale is, DO NOT LET OTHER PEOPLES NOTIONS OF RIGHT AND WRONG CONTROL YOUR LIFE. I was seventeen.

Back to packing. Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

Looking Up

I hit bottom last night. Angry at Mark, angry at me and angry at God. None of us deserved it.

I am so tired. I cry a lot. Nothing is moving fast, except for rapidly running out of money. Mark was supposed to set up the actual move. He hasn't. Some vague "people from work" may or may not have a horse trailer that they may or may not let us use. They "might" also be available to help lift and carry. All this nebulous planning is driving me nuts. I need to know if we have transportation and help to move. I am worried about the cost of all this remodeling. I am also worried we won't get the basics done before having to move in. It is just the two of us doing it, and one of us goes off to work for nine or ten hours a day. I was panicked when he finally arrived last night. And then he started to whistle.

Mark does not worry about anything. Mostly this is a good trait but occasionally it backfires. In this case the backfire from his wife should have killed him. I had been painting for four hours when he showed up late. Court ran long. He was in a good humor and wanted to tell me all about his triumphant day. He was whistling off and on. When I said "stop that" he wanted to know what was wrong with me. I opened my mouth to tell him...and God hushed me.

What came out was, "Just a little tired. Go on telling me about your day." Shocked the sh*t out of me. I wanted to kill him, and I was being nice. Spiritual lessons abound lately. Mark's faith that God will come to our rescue is correct. My belief that he, Mark, is an irresponsible nut case is incorrect. God gave me the grace not question Mark's firm conviction that "all this will work out." And you know what, I felt better.

While washing out paint brushes last night I prayed for faith and peace. I put the money thing and the moving thing back in God's hands. "Please help us and guide us" I prayed. Then I too started to whistle. I slept like a log last night.

This morning I had to get the phone and t.v. switched to the new house. Took all morning. Usually this sort of thing makes me flaming mad at the time I am forced to waste. Not this morning. I was calm as a cucumber and nice to all. Had to spend the morning at the washateria. This new activity is also driving me nuts. Money and time down the drain (no pun). Not this morning. I read magazines and joked with the other regulars. Later, I had to call about the shed we are having built. I couldn't find the number. Phone book fell open at "Movers" page. Right in front of my eyeballs was a phone number for Rider moving trucks. I swear to God that wasn't there before. The reason we were trying to line up horse trailers and pickups was because of no local movers. Trucks are $30-45 per day and forty-nine cents a mile (we are moving five miles). We can rent one any old time we please. They also rent dollies to move stuff.

If mustard seed faith can move mountains, maybe misty faith can produce peace, and moving trucks. I will be interested to see how God works out the money situation.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

Help

I am noooo darn good at asking for it.

What is my problem? I feel like a dead beat if I ask for anything. Like I am taking advantage of people. Well, I did ask for some help. The nice neighbors came over and helped us lift an Ikea kitchen cabinet unit up onto the wall and screw it in. Was hard work as the 90 year old wood was like iron. But we got the thing up. It is not in the right spot, but that is another story.... Then I asked if they would help us haul the washer dryer unit over to the house. I am spending a small fortune at the washateria and could do the wash for free at new house. Well...they said yes, but reluctantly. I felt so embarrassed. I felt like a sponger from hell. But, we have to have the help. I feel better today, but still get hot and anxious when I think about the look on the neighbor's face at my request. I think I recognized it. I saw it a lot in the commodities lines when I was a kid. When my "betters" handed out that cheese and flour and beans they also handed out condemnation. I now see it on store clerks' faces as they cash single mothers' food stamps. Obviously I am still confused about the difference between friendly help and public "assistance." I am sure this is another blessing disguised as an opportunity to work out more junk from the past. I wish God would bless Mark for awhile instead of me.

I am getting excited about purging stuff. A girl in our congregation is renting her first apartment. I am giving her all my possessions I no longer need. What a relief to have a place to off load them. Poor thing, she is excited to be receiving all this junk. I guess it is not junk, just goods I no longer want. It is embarrassing to know I can furnish an entire apartment out of my excess.

Bedroom is done. Basement is done. I have tarpeted the living room and it is ready for painting. Mark starts to prep the laundry room for painting tonight. Doors and pavers and wood for sealing up the end of the carport have arrived. Still waiting for windows. This is going to happen. We are really going to move. Yippee.

Okay enough glee. I have to go over and start painting the coat closet in the living room this eve. Did I mention the number of closets in this house? Too darn many if you have to paint all of them. A generous amount if you want to store things. The skies are leaden and it is cold here. But I am warm of heart.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

Gad I'm Fat

Self mixed more paint. I dumped some beige paint in with the flesh colored paint. Now I have a lighter flesh color. sigh I am telling my self it is orange mocha. I am not painting the room again.

I eat and eat. It is the only joy I seem to be getting out of life lately. A cruel joy to then make me so miserable. It is the money. I am worried about being broke. I can't stand to think about the prospect so I eat so as not to think or feel. Or to feel better.

The more time the remodel and moving takes the more money it costs. Mark says we have prayed about this and put it in God's hands and that is where we should leave it. In other words, "Don't worry about it." Well...that works for him. He has faith like the mustard seed. It can and has moved mountains. I have faith like...what, mist? I should, could be enjoying this process. I normally love to decorate and remodel. I enjoy taking what I have and doing the best I can with it. (Thanks Joyce) But the slow pace of this move is killing me. I am conscious of the monetary cost of every passing moment. Then I get overwhelmed and move even slower. And I feel guilty and scared. And I eat.

I am choosing to change. This is the day the Lord hath made and I WILL rejoice and be glad in it. I have been praying about my weak as water faith. Asking God to help me have stronger faith. This morning I received an answer. He said, "What do you think I am doing?" Faith is like a muscle, if it is not used it is weak. In my fairly problem free life of late I have not had to use my faith muscles. I or we could solve all our problems without aide. I got out of the habit of exercising any faith at all. It should come as no surprise that my faith muscles, weak in the best (worst) of times, have dwindled to almost nothing.

So...I will cooperate with this new faith workout plan.

First off, I am choosing to change my way of speaking. I am going to say only positive things about the remodel and the move. "I now have a wonderful warm colored orange mocha bedroom, with cream colored ceiling and trim. And I didn't have to spend any more money on paint." "I am grateful I have to go to the washateria to do laundry. Gives me time to sit and rest and read." "I am grateful to have a long time to consider the move. Makes me more determined than ever to let go of some of this stuff." "I am glad to be doing a lot of the remodel work by myself, since I believe it is my self I am actually working on." "God allowed us to get this house against all odds, and he will provide the money for us to remodel and move."

Second, I am choosing to be grateful. For everything. Mark is dealing with awful disgusting stuff at work. I am grateful our lives are protected from all that drama and trauma. They didn't used to be. We well remember the pit from whence we were dug.

Third, I am choosing joy. The joy of the Lord is my strength. I will sing when I don't feel like it. I will listen to uplifting (to me) music and t.v.. I will further develop my Erma Bombeck eye on life. I too can find humor in the new neighbor moving the lawn in a parka, gloves and what appeared to be Hawaiian print swimming trunks. He did not look happy.

Fourth, I will do one thing at a time. I will take one day at a time. I will concentrate on what I am doing and not dilute my present efforts by piling up future projects in my head. I will prioritize, with God's help. Perfect is time consuming. Good, and done, is done.

Fifth, I will take my greed for food to God again. Currently I don't just want something tasty and filling to eat, I want gobs of it. Mark, a normal eater, is hungry after all this manual labor and wants more food than we have been eating. So I guess it is normal I too should be hungry. But I can't stop after eating my fill. Again I am using food to give me peace of mind and soul. I am using food to fill the God shaped hole. Pray for me as I will for thee.

I love my new smaller house. I am longing to fix it up and make it comfortable and beautiful. But first I have to clean it and fix its major structural problems. Then and only then can I move in and begin to decorate. All this takes time.

Off to the "washateria." The sun is shining and I can hang the clothes on the line. Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

Snow, Flesh and the Devil

Well it's snowing. Can you beat it? All this mess I am in and now I have to cope with the snow. Thank God we got that carport up. Winter clothes are snug. Was eight pounds thinner last year at this time. (sigh)

Got the downstairs bedroom painted. "Acapulco Tan" it said on the can. As I was painting I kept thinking I recognized the color but I couldn't think from where. When I got all done the room looked like the inside of a mud hut, with a cream colored ceiling and trim. Was way too dark. And after all that flipping work. And it was a really odd color. Mark as usual nailed the problem on the head when he saw the completed room. "Why did you paint it this creepy flesh color" he asked? Yep. That was it. My new dream bedroom is the same color as the flesh colored crayon in the old crayola boxes. Pinky, orangey, tan...with cream colored ceiling and trim. I cried, and then laughed, got hysterical in fact. Every time I repeated "creepy flesh color" another paroxysm of hysteria would hit me. Mark finally got worried and said we need to quit and go home. I said, "we are home." He hauled me out of the house still wiping my eyes and guffawing.

I am more philosophical this morning. We were not supposed to buy this house and God intends for us to go broke. (I am kidding, I think.) We are not going to get into this house until the end of October. I will have to borrow money from friends/relatives to pay the house payment and rent for another month and for moving expenses. I have been fighting to get finished in such a way as to not spend so much money, but it can't be done. We are worn out. We are going to need paid help. At least to move. Who ever heard of moving without going into debt anyway?

We did take time out while buying the flesh colored paint to go and visit Mollie Bea. She is living on a ranchette with fourteen other dogs. They eat and sleep (in their own padded dog crates) in a heated barn and run around a huge fenced yard. She looks marvelous. Almost all the sap has worn off her coat which is now a shiny clean black. She has gained weight and looks like a dog instead of a skeleton. I wondered if she would remember me. She did. "Raptures" is what the dog lady said. She (Mollie, not the dog lady) sat on my feet when she wasn't licking me. She also sat on Mark's feet and licked him. He says he has reservations about us having this dog. But he was also making plans for a dog run and a dog bed. The cats are going to hate me. I hope we will all be fine.

I am freezing up here typing. Can't find my fingerless gloves. The upstairs in the new house has better heat I think. It will be a blessing. My poor hands are about done in. Am going with Mark again today on his hundred mile commute. I am going to buy more paint. A nice light beige.

I hope my winter coat still fits. Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

Thank You All

I am going to take the little t.v. over to the house and watch/listen to old videos. May even take DVD player over and watch DVD's. Crock pot is also darn good idea for supper. I have two, why did I not think of using them? Tired I guess. Lean Cuisine for lunch with veggies, genius. (We have been having sandwiches but I don't want all that bread.) Cheese sticks and apples for snacks.

Not much help to be had. Hunting season you know. Everyone vanishes into the hills for the months of September and October. Women in church friendly but leading their own busy lives. When packing time comes I will ask for volunteers.

Rest and sleep, not much to be had. Slept from midnight until 3am last night. I need hormones. Was not going to take them because I believe they might kill me (heart attack) but at this point I would relish looking rested in the casket. No time to get to doctor to get the darn things. My right hand goes numb when I look down. Is from all the painting. My neck is about shot. Did go and get a massage, with hot rocks. Heaven. Massage therapist told me to quit talking and "receive." So I did. I need to find my barley neck heating pad.

Back to rewards. If I suffer I am entitled to whatever I need to blot out/mitigate the suffering. It is this kind of addictive thinking that has me in its thrall. Food has again taken on magical properties. I look forward to it curing my ills. And I am here to tell you ice cream does not get the knots out of my neck. I have been trying this treatment to no avail. But while I am eating, I do forget about the knots. This is the payoff. While I am eating I forget my pain. And I believe I deserve to not be in pain. I should not have to suffer. And if I do suffer I am owed compensation. Where do you suppose I came up with this thinking? Owed, I am owed that pint of carmel-sutra. Like there is some cosmic suffering scale and when my side becomes weighted down with care it is my job to balance out the other side with food.

I am not owed food as a cure all for my pain. Pain comes. My job is to lean on God and learn to handle the pain. I am not owed pain relief. If anyone knows what I mean let me know. I am writing it but I don't really get it. Weird, I have to write in order to see what I think.

Have now to go 30 miles and get more paint. Store here has run out. Basement is almost complete. Closets are almost all done. Plumbing is done. Spackling and caulking almost all done. Husband home early and we are going to enjoy paint shopping drive.

Thank you again for your concern and your brilliant ideas. Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

Rewards

"Shock and exhaustion" is what Cindy said. Yep. And fear. How am I ever going to get all this done? And how will I pay for it? I have been praying for strength and more money and help. Maybe I should be praying for peace. I can not even describe how tired I am.

"Shock" what a great word. That is what is basically the matter with me. I love my "routes" and nothing is normal. I am in shock. Like a bomb exploded in my living room. I feel like I have been attacked. (I know this is over reaction and I am not dying.) Mark keeps telling me not to worry and then blithely goes off to work. I resent this mightily. I not only bought the house and made all the arrangements for remodeling supplies, I am also working like a hired man in the remodeling process. I also have to keep the current house running, i.e. food, laundry, bills. I knew Mark could not take time off from work when we started this process, but I am feeling very abandoned none the less. Night sweats are killing me. I sleep maybe four hours a night. I painted for nine hours yesterday, on four hours sleep. I can barely type.

My only reward for all this work and stress is food. I know there are more rewards out there but when I get tired I can't think of any. I tried for a hot bath last night but the water heater had quit again. Had to push the reset button and wait an hour for a tepid shower. I ate an entire jar of raspberry jam in the interim. I want sugar and salt. We eat a good breakfast and it is down hill from there. Lunch is on the run and supper is at 8-9pm and is fast food. What I really want is order. None to be had for the next couple of months. I can't even do the laundry as the blankety blank power in the laundry room has quit again. I will be glad to get out of this rented house and into my own snug little home. Please God don't let me eat a house before I can change houses.

If any of you know how to reward yourselves with out using food or money or big chunks of time let me know.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

Dig It

This will be quick.

We leveled out a driveway by hand. Pick axe and shovels. All I really needed was a striped suit and a ball and chain. Mark kept singing about "Old Lazarus coming down." I was supposed to use the pick axe to the cadence of the tune. Only he didn't know the whole song. He sang those four words over and over. After about the zillionth refrain it was not the ground I wanted to hit with that axe.

We were leveling the ground for a metal carport. Company called and said carport would arrive at 6am on Saturday. The call came in at 4:15 pm on Thursday. Mark had to work all day Friday. No digging company available on such short notice. Bought pick axe on Thursday eve. I began to dig on Friday morning. Mark dug after work. We dug almost all night. Rocky hard ground.

Carport arrived Sunday at 6pm.

If any of this sounds funny I am not telling it right.

Take care of yourselves. Love, broken and bent Bea.

Fence Off

Wyoming is a "fence out" state. It is assumed livestock and wild things will wander at will. It is the land owner's responsibility to "fence out" unwanted animal intruders. It's the law.

Wyomingites are savvy about land and water law. There are not many of us (natives) and somewhere down the line most of us lived on a farm or ranch where you had to know about land and water law. So maybe it's bred in the bone. The County Attny's. office gets lots of calls about water and animals and the law. They love these calls.

Yesterday was a bumper day for livestock calls. Two mundane calls about horses eating flowers. People here tie their horses along the road side to eat the tall grass and weeds. Is cheaper and easier than mowing. Unfortunately if the rope is too long the horses munch their way into other peoples yards and eat flowers. Everyday stuff. Not so with the turkeys and the rabbits.

The "fowl" call was placed by an irate homeowner who resented having to pay to feed the neighbors herd of turkeys. Seems the neighbors release this pack of poultry every evening to flock into her yard and eat all her dog food and poop on the lawn. This has been going on for months in spite of repeated calls and entreaties by the dog food provider. The turkeys are eating a bag of dog food a week. The lawn is thriving but the walkways are "befowled." The angry homeowner had researched the issue and knew the county ordinance about the permitted number of poultry per acre. She wasn't sure as she couldn't tell all the turkeys apart but she thought they exceeded the legal limit. She had had it with these expensive pests and wanted something done now.

The lepidine call came hard on the heels of the fowl call. Another homeowner was frustrated because the neighbors rabbits were getting out of their pens and coming into her yard and eating all her new trees. It was bad enough when they killed the cheap $45 ones but now they had begun to chow down on the pricey Aspens. She called the neighbors to complain and was told to "just shoot them." The rabbits not the neighbors. She proceeded to use a pellet gun on the escapees but it didn't do anything except "make them jump up in the air." She guessed she was not strong enough to pump the air rifle up sufficiently. She said she could sit out every evening at twilight with a twenty-two but she resented having to do this. She felt is was someone else's responsibility to shoot the bunnies. The County should shoot them.

Chicken wire. Both lovely frustrated ladies were encouraged to more effectively fence their property. Page after page of county ordinances were recited by both women to Mark so as to invalidate this answer. The state "fence out" statute was news to them both. It did not fall on receptive ears. Mark alerted the deputies to be prepared for some sort of contretemps in each case. Elderly ladies with small budgets and beautiful yards will not give in so easily.

Take care of your yards. Love Bea

Perspective

9/11. My agonies about moving are relative. I am glad to be alive. I am glad my loved ones are alive. This is the day that the Lord hath made and I will rejoice and be glad in it.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

P.S. Thanx Lori and Cindy for moving tips. Renting dumpster is genius. Anyone else have any tips? I'll take them.

Fixer Upper

Like me. Mentor Mary frequently compares our houses to our selves. Foundation as our basic beliefs, basement as stuff from the past, main floor as current events, upstairs as higher learning, attic as spiritual life and roof as the covering over it all - God. Bathroom is about cleaning up and out our stuff, bedroom about rest and sexual concerns, kitchen about nourishing ourselves, family room and study are self evident and garage is about our ability to move. I have been spending time in the basement and on the main floor of our new home. Every load of grime I hall out of the basement feels like soulish progress. We are doing a lot of fix up to my bathroom. We are doing not just cosmetic but structural changes all round. The house is basically sound, but it is old and neglected and in need of some loving maintenance. Like me.

I will be happy to get to the paint, the pretty part. But I am curiously fulfilled doing the strengthening work i.e. plumbing, patching, tiling, building, and cleaning. I needed this fixer upper.

Soon comes the scary task. Packing and getting rid of stuff. I DO NOT want to haul a bunch of worn out and/or unused junk into this new house. I am praying for guidance and strength in my downsizing. (Curious choice of word "downsizing" in relation to my house/body don't you think?) Must muse on this.

Back to home repairs.

Take care of your houses. Love Bea

Tempted and Tried

There is some old Eagles or Don Hennley song with the line,"this is the last useless evening I will ever spend." I have come to the same point with food.

I had forgotten what compulsive eating was really like. I have eaten crap for occasional meals and binges over the past year but have always quit after a meal or binge or two. Not so during week before, and Labor Day weekend. I consciously ate everything I used to eat and in the amounts I used to eat. After seven days of this kind of eating I was sick as a dog and crazy. Here is the list of the food induced ailments.

1. Flatulent enough to float.
2. Clogged up to my eyeballs.
3. Painful acid reflux that no amount of Pepsid would cure.
4. Yeast infection requiring two one dose Monistat cures.
5. Acne.
6. Cravings from hell.
7. A screaming fit in a lumber yard.
8. Crying jag that lasted for two days.
9. Lethargy like I was wading through molasses in snowshoes.
10. Panic attack. I haven't had one of these in years.
11. Herpes attack to go along with the yeast infection.
12. Sleeping like the dead alternating with prowling around at night like a nervous burglar.
And
13. Water logged enough my wedding ring wouldn't fit.

Scared the pea wadding out of me. Especially the emotional stuff. I have been suicidal but never "nuts" like Mom was nuts. Never completely out of control. I came close in the middle of the sheet rock section of that lumber yard. Screaming mad I was. I don't scream without much internal preparation. It is work for me to have to scream. But scream I did. I have been possessed by the spirit of sugar invited rage.

I am better now. No overt sugar for the last couple of days. I had a short season in Hell. I don't want to go back. Even if I never lose another damn pound I am finally well and truly GRATEFUL for the healthy way I have learned to eat, and this is how I will continue.

I thought my food plan was limiting and boring and time consuming, and sometimes it is, but compared to the other way of living it is a BLESSING. I had lost sight of that.

Okay enough said. I am now going out and look for self stick tile. Supper is cooked and waiting. Meals are planned and semi done for the weekend. Thank God I am better.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

Mishmash

This post is going to cover a lot of territory.

First, we spent all holiday working on the house. Now I know why they call it Labor Day. Many things to be done before we can move in. Mark cannot take time off so it is up to me to get stuff done. My brain and body are about fried. I don't think we will get repairs done and be able to move in by the end of the month. I hope we can stay here until the middle of October. Fiasco with the water heater. Mark left me bailing in a flooding basement while he drove into town to get the broken part. I thought I was a gonner when the water heater CAME ON. I thought Mark had shut off the electricity. The shut off valve did not work for the water main which is why the flood. I envisioned being electrocuted. Got very wet. That's all. Problem is now solved and basement floor is really clean.

Second, I have been eating like old times. Pizza and ice cream and donuts for most of weekend. I am swollen up like a poison toad. I have begun in the past two weeks to dream about food again. I dream about eating it and how good it tastes. Anyone else do that? I did this when I first started on the food plan. Very odd. Last night I dreamed I was at some national weight loss convention and was being given an award. Thing is, I had gained 10 pounds and my clothes were strangling me. I felt just awful. I woke up feeling fat and awful, and water logged.

I have not bought the idea of sugar as addictive. I think I am changing my mind. I think that is what the eating dreams are about. My body and brain are processing the new sugar overload just as a year ago they processed the sugar withdrawal. Cravings at night have been hideous. I don't think I can handle sugar. And sure not alone. In all the house stuff my prayer life has been on hold. Not good. I need help to cope. Today I prioritized my life again. God first, sugar abstinent eating second and every other darn thing after numbers one and two. This will not be easy in the panic of home repairs and moving. Pray for me.

Third, is there a difference between passion and lust? (Cleaning and spackling and painting give a person time to think.) I believe I have often mistaken them. I want passion in my life. Lust just gets me into trouble. I think lust may be insatiable and passion can be fulfilled. That statement feels liberating. My sugar cravings are insatiable. I get filled up on healthy food. I hate insatiable. I want to be delivered from it. I think only God can do it. I have lived my life controlled by lust, at least in concept if not in deed. Okay so there have been a few deeds. I do not want to be ruled by lust. I begin to get a clearer picture of the sin of gluttony.

That's all. The posts and comments may be few and far between in the next month. I am dead heat busy. Or not. This writing thing has become as integral as breathing. I am grateful to be given words and a venue to express them.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

A Dog's Tale cont'd.

Well it looks like I will soon be a dog owner. I have now officially rescued the little dog. She is currently on a ranch with the Humane Society people. She has been to the vet and had a check up, shots and was spade. She is not pregnant. She has had pups in the recent past. I never saw or heard any puppies. I shudder to think what may have happened to them. They also gave her a bath. What I thought was caked mud is sap, from that tree she lived under. The sap will not come out of her coat. It will have to wear off. Humane Society people say she is indeed house trained. (Mark is relieved.) She will walk on a leash but attempts to tow you along. She gets along with the other dogs. All in all, "A great little dog," says the dog walker. I wanted to call her Mollie. The Humane Society people are calling her Mollie Bea. I am touched.

Mark is less than thrilled, but resigned. "I knew the moment you started feeling sorry for that dog we would eventually own her." I was never that sure. I am grateful to God for how it all worked out. (Rest assured I am not a criminal.) I am not sure what we are going to do with her. We have two sides of a fence, not four. But with winter coming on I don't have to worry too much. For the frozen season she will be an inside dog who goes for walks. She can stay where she is until we move in. H.S. people say she smiles all the time.

Can you believe it? I will have a new dog and a new house in the same month. I am kind of shell shocked. The cats hate me already. Whomper Dinky will, I think, get along with Mollie Bea. Rocket Socks will sit on top of things and stare at me reproachfully. October promises to be an interesting month.

I am going to start painting kitchen cabinets this eve. The job is awful but I will not gripe, the cabinets are MINE.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

The First Supper

We were measuring stuff last night at the new house when comes a knock at the door. I was feeling bad about fence encounter earlier in the day and was also exhausted. I did not want to talk to the sellers about the fence. I assumed it was them as no one else knew we were in the house. Lo and behold it was a couple from church we had met once. Turns out they live just up the road from us. They said they were the unofficial Welcome Wagon and invited us to supper. I was tempted to turn them down as I am not crazy about socializing with near strangers. But this is a new phase and old things are passing away. I accepted. We had a wonderful time. This couple were delightful, and they offered to help us CLEAN AND PAINT AND MOVE. Offered us the use of their pickup! I was overwhelmed by their generosity.

This is a direct answer to prayer. Why am I so surprised? I expect disasters. I do not look for blessings. A new day is dawning. I am choosing to expect blessings. I will be alert for them. If I can spot a potential problem at forty paces I should also be able to perceive the hand of God in my life.

Today I will be cleaning and buying a garage. Oh, and door locks. Fence looks good.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

P.S. Markovian Theory: The next new health craze to sweep the country will be "clarified" water...

Done Deal

Gad what a mess. We now own a house but it was a close thing. I made difficulties. Loud difficulties. I have been castigated my whole life for my attention to detail. "Picky, fussy, anal retentive, nervous, irritating, worrier, complainer, and holier than thou are just some of the labels I've had pinned to me. I can't help it. It is how I am made. As a nurse this quality made me very valuable, and it drove people crazy. But, I know the devil is usually to be found in the details.

We were signing the pounds of paper necessary to purchase the house when something caught my eye. We were signing about improvements to the property. The new vinyl six foot fence was not on the form. I asked why. No one knew. The real estate agent excused himself to go to the restroom. I refused to sign anything else until he returned. Then I asked point blank about the oversight. He hemmed and hawed and didn't answer. I said, "This deal will stop right here until the fence goes on the land improvement page." More silence. Now the bank person, title person and lawyer (Mark) were looking at him. Bank lady offered to hand write the description in. Real estate agent stopped her. "You can't put it on there because they don't own the fence. It is on the seller's property." More silence. All was suddenly clear. I was very angry. I did not yell or cry or have a fit. I made eye contact with the real estate agent and said in clear loud tones, "So you lied to us? And you were going to let us buy the house thinking the fence was on our property?" "Buyer beware," was what he said. At that point Mark quietly said, "We have an initial contract which states that the fence was to be built on our property. Now we will not buy the house and apparently we will have to sue the sellers for breach of contract." Agent came unglued. No, no, no let's not get the sellers involved he begged. (Sellers were not present. They are to sign at 4 pm today.) This little misunderstanding was all his fault. What could he do to make it right?

We got three thousand dollars off the price of the house. We signed. That damn fence was never ours or ever going to be ours. The sellers had always intended to put up their fence on their property. The agent bald faced lied to us. FOR NO GOOD REASON. We made it obvious from the beginning we wanted the house. Fence or no fence. Also turns out there are no keys for any of the door locks. I asked a couple of weeks ago why the house was never locked. He told me because the sellers were always going in and out. Today I asked for the keys. He then said there were none. I asked why he hadn't told me that weeks ago. He just looked down at his shoes.

This guy used to be the chief of police in our little town.

Was a long morning. We have a house. I am going out and purchase locks just as soon as I finish typing. I hope soon to be excited. Right now I just want to sit down and cry. Change is hard, and good things are worth fighting for. And, shock of all shocks, I am capable of fighting. First the dog and now the house.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

Cold Feet

Up to my thighs now. We are supposed to close on the house tomorrow at 9:30. I keep hoping something will go wrong. I like the house, I am tired of being a renter and...I hate going back into debt. I am afraid of going into debt. No sugar in the house yesterday to eat. I ate a whole jar of salsa.

I have prayed for guidance about this house. I have prayed the process would be halted if is not God's will for us. I am about all prayed out.

Fears
1. I am afraid we will not be able to make the bills each month.
2. I fear the discipline/deprivation of a budgeted life.
3. I fear some big disaster that we will not have the money to cope with.
4. I fear the feeling of a self induced financial mess and the attendant guilt.
5. I fear making another costly mistake about money.
6. I fear the humiliation of being broke and and in debt.
7. I fear I will have to go back to being a nurse.

Well it took six tries but I finally got to the real fear. I will have to go back to work. Not to any job but to the high paying soul killing career I know so well. The career in which I become a walking corpse that smiles. I would rather be actually dead.

"What you resist you always draw to you." From Mentor Mary. Gad. Okay time to practise what I preach. I am going to sit quietly and let the worst care scenarios wash over me. I will dive head on into the fear. I am afraid of fear. But the only way out is through.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

The Never Ending Pain

Why do I assume present pain is going to be permanent? Lack of faith at the outset, but deeper problem than that I think. I read somewhere during the past week that almost all chronic overeaters are incapable of envisioning happy endings.

When beset by unpleasant circumstances I am immediately overwhelmed. I feel crushed, squashed down, incapable of meeting the problem, and certainly unable to see beyond it. And yet I am known as a genius at problem solving. I come up with an almost instantaneous plan to meet whatever adversity I encounter. My quick thinking has saved many a day for myself and others. But during the crisis I imagine it will never end and I will be called upon to endure the present pain forever. Hence the eating. I eat to relieve the stress and pain of what I perceive as an intransigent problem. Guess what? The pain never lasts.

Do you suppose this is from a childhood of blows I couldn't ward off? What is my deal? I choose to believe God loves me and wants to give me an abundant life. I am already living out some of that. But, still I wait for the other shoe to drop. Lack of faith.

I have also been thinking about God as Father in Heaven. I have to say from my viewpoint, my Father has been damn unreliable. What use is a father who loves but refuses to protect? This dog deal is allowing me to bring old stuff out into the light. How am I to trust a Father/God who allows such suffering while all the propaganda assures us of His love and protection?

Paradigm shift: I misunderstand the love of God. I got no idea under Heaven about an earthly father's love and I don't understand a Heavenly Father's love. I may have badly mixed the two. So...I choose to believe my father God can handle my anger at His apparent inaction. I choose to look for happy endings and miracles. And I ask for wisdom.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

A Dog's Life

Has been a long 48 hours. God is good.

That is all I am going to say about that. No verbal comments please. Just grin real big and say a thank you prayer.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

Moving Is Hard

We are going to move. I keep expecting the bank to call and renege on the loan. Trust me to decide to buy a house in the midst of the worst lending crisis in the past twenty years. I watch the news and the phone, and wait. But, so far, so good.

You would think I would be excited. I'm not. I know what is ahead of me. I want to move...and I dread all the work it is going to take. Is a metaphor for my life. It is not the work I fear, it is the overwhelmedness and the fatigue. I am not a good pacer. I procrastinate and then panic and go at stuff like I am killing snakes. It wears me out. This pattern gets harder and harder with each passing year.

We have the month of September to move. In that month we have to clean the whole house, paint the inside of the whole house (it was a rental), put in two new windows, get some wiring done, put up a shed, and put up three storm doors. We also need to get a free standing car port installed. I also have to pack up this house and have a garage sale. I have to schedule the U-Haul and find people to help us load and unload. I can no longer carry washers and fridges. One of the lawyers in Mark's office quit so he is commuting 100 miles one way twice a week to fill in. At this point it looks like he won't be able to take much time off. I spent the morning sorting paper clips.

Okay this is a new house. My life will have new boundaries (a six foot white vinyl one for starters) and I have the option of letting in more help. Okay, I need help. I do not know how I am going to get all of this done. I have been dreaming about rushing around and losing my purse, car, shoes, swimming suit(?), and husband. I am attempting to fight off overwhelmedness. The more I fight off the fear, the less I move. I am wasting energy and time.

Set priorities. Be realistic. We may not get the whole house painted before we move in. I may not get the garage sale done. We may end up in a jumbled mess in a less than idea situation come October first. With no garage. Did I mention money is tight. We are moving from a comfortable big house into an uncomfortable little house. I just did this ten months ago. I want to stand around and sob. I am angry. And this was all my idea. Am I nuts?

I have prayed for energy, courage, clear thinking and humor. I think that about covers the waterfront. Okay, I am going out and price washers and dryers this afternoon. I will call around and see if any one sells sheet rock and molding. I will go look at paint colors.

Maybe I am just a little excited. Tee Hee. Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

P.S. Markovian Theory: Deer turn into elk on or around September 7th. The time of the annual change is dependant mostly on temperature gradients. Feed and/or elevation do not seem to affect the metamorphosis. The skins the deer shed (cocoons) are marked in red by the Forest Service and are reserved for the bears. We live in a tourist area. They have many questions. Mark has the answers.

The Blessing

According to family lore I was not named until five days after I was born. I was expected to die. I guess a name might have made me permanent. I was a preemie. A "blue baby" my aunt called me. I had some sort of a knot of blood vessels under my right arm above my heart. I was operated on as a new born. Scar is as thin as a wisp but is still three or four inches long. On a small baby must have almost bisected me. My paternal grandfather paid for the surgery. I found the letters after my mother died. He paid for my birth and the subsequent surgery with the understanding, legal, that Mom would never contact his son again. And that is what happened.

I have been looking at family mottoes. Has drawn me deep into my past. Dawned on me yesterday that it was hoped I would die at birth. Would have made life so much less painful for all and sundry. My life caused pain and trouble and it would have been better if I had died. I believe this. Said it out loud yesterday. Was like coming home after a long journey.

Poor baby, and child and youngster and teenager and twenty, thirty and forty year old. I am a Christian. I have been taught God loves me. I have had trouble with this miracle as a heart felt belief. But I choose to believe. I now understand the origin of my belief trouble. There is an older belief crowding out anything else. I should have died. Would have been so much better. But I stubbornly lived on to make everyone's life hell. Like my beggar belief, this one too is false.

I am in mourning I think. Mourning for all the time this false belief has contaminated. And be sure, it has reverberated down the years of my life. I am angry. So angry. All human life is precious. And loved and treasured by God. My poor stupid mother and her pernicious sisters. And the moneyed coward son, my father, who died in alcoholic poverty in a shack on the ranch his father traded for my mother and me. I am willing to forgive them. And forgiveness takes time.

I believe God makes miracles out of our messes. I am living proof. I am alive. I am blessed. And I have been given an insight which is changing my life moment to moment. God loved me and gave me life for a purpose. If the purpose is only this post it is enough. Thank you God that I breathe. Amen

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

What I Really Really Want

Is to be able to say what I think and want and feel. I parse my words for my audience. Some of that is good, polite. Most is cowardice. I am afraid of inconveniencing or offending anyone so I say what I know is going to make people happy. I lie a lot. This behaviour makes me lose respect for myself, as well as getting me into stupid exhausting situations. I want to say my truth and let the chips fall where they may.

If I do say my truth relationships will change. I will stop being a dumping ground for other people's problems. I will have more free time because I will stop doing stuff I don't want to do. I may get more help as I will be asking for it! I will be better informed because I will ask questions until I fully understand something. (Like our insurances and Mark's retirement plan.) I will get better service. I will have more honest relationships. I will get to stop the tiresome task of making up excuses. I will be respected, even by me.

Okay then, how to go about this Herculean task? For starters I am going to begin saying nothing. If I don't have the gumption to say "No" I will say nothing. Or I will get up and leave if I don't like the conversation. I will practise polite "No" phrases. "No thank you." "Kind of you to think of me but no." "Thank you for calling but I am too tired, busy, stressed out, to talk." "Please shut the window, door, music, etc." "This is the wrong size, color, flavor, order. Please bring me another." "No I don't want to." "Leave me the hell alone." Just kidding.

Branded into my soul has been the family motto "Beggars Can't Be Choosers." Conversation with a blessed Ethel yesterday finally drove home in my mind the idiocy of this statement. I told her about my "poor in spirit as well as pocket" relatives and their hang dog attitude toward life. She quickly shot back, "If they were/are poor in spirit and you recognize it, why do you continue to believe their "beggar statement?" Why indeed?

I am not a beggar. Never have been. I am the "righteousness of God, in Christ." I am a chooser. And I choose this day to begin to say my truth. Pray for me as I will for thee.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

P.S. I seem to have bought us a house. We close on the 28th. God help me.

Free Day

I have nothing scheduled for today. Nothing. I have no where I need to be and no one I need to contact. I am anxious.

I live from appointment to appointment and from mini crisis to mini crisis. I am only comfortable with a full schedule. It is like I always wear a time girdle. Without it I flop around and feel uneasy. Isn't that awful? I feel normal only if my life is constricted. Part of the perfectionist thing I think. I am a human doing. Free time signals sloth.

And yet, I am a procrastinator. If I have a gob of stuff to do I can easily sit down in the middle of it and read Harry Potter for two days at a wack. Then I run around like a headless middle aged woman trying to get everything done, perfectly. Weird. I think I may be unconsciously trying to create time crunches. I don't know why.

Still pooped from weekend. Intend today to do zilch. I hope I don't get bored. I have figured out after a whole year at this weight loss thing that boredom is death to my diet. I am used to stress and tension, i.e, intense concentration. If I am not focused on something I do not feel normal and I get anxious and eat. I don't know if this is learned behaviour or if it is part of my temperament. I wish I could make it stop. Or not. One of my main intellectual gifts has been that ability to focus. I guess I wish I could turn it on and off.

Okay enough stream of consciousness. Take care of yourselves. Love Bea.

Soul Fatigue

I am probably to tired to write coherently. But coherency is highly overrated. All visitors gone. House messy. Getting cold feet about new house loan. Street digging halted for the moment. I am fatter.

Child murdered over the weekend. Sort of puts all the rest of it in perspective doesn't it?

Today I could give a shit less about calories or interest rates or dirty dishes. I am grateful for the people I love and who love me. My life is so blessed I can't even comprehend all the things I have to be grateful for. (In addition to a perfection I love a preposition at the end of a sentence.) Those of you with children, treasure them. Those of Us without them, treasure someone else's.

Pray for me as I will for Thee. Love Bea. And pray for Mark.

P.S. I am writing this Monday morning. I started a post on Friday. I deleted it and wrote this instead. Gad, even my computer days are not tracking.

I am a fat girl.

Quick Friday update. Guess who showed up last night? I had finally sat down after cleaning like a mad woman all day and what to my wondering ear should appear but whining. Little dog was laying on side porch and looking at me through the screen door. I went out side and she went nuts. Jumped all over me and licked my arms. She scratched the heck out of me. I fed her and gave her water. And petted her. She is filthy... and pregnant. I called Mark and he took her home. No one home again. She did have food and water. I stole the neighbors cat at home because they were neglecting her. I got in no end of trouble. Sigh.

Vickie what do you mean by, "When one doesn't have a 'forever' sense of the size one IS, one probably doesn't LET themselves adjust-it just feels temporary?"

I have been holding my own at 181 to 185 for a year now. Depending on the time period that is 65-75 pounds gone. And yet the weight loss feels temporary. I am a fat girl. Is is like I have locked my real self, the fatter one, in a closet. And she is impatiently waiting to be let out. Sooner rather than later I think she is going to pry the door open and emerge. I will be relieved God help me.

I don't know how to be this thinner person. I have been practising for a year now and it still feels fake. If I got fatter it would feel like I had come home. I would be normal again. Isn't that scary? Why do you suppose I feel like that?

I find myself lately adopting old fat behaviors. I am self deprecating. I am apologizing for existing. I want to wear only baggy clothing. I am in fear of every morsel I eat. I am only walking in fits and starts. I quit putting lotion on my legs. I am thinking about stopping painting my toenails. I've gone back to sensible earrings.

Do you think it is because of all the changes happening and coming up? Am I retreating to a former self because I am scared? I just don't know, but I don't like it. If we get this smaller house I am going to have to give up a bunch of stuff. I want to move forward, and this house to me feels like forward. But that is not how it looks from the outside. Looks like we are going down in the world. Old little house with no garage and no amenities. And at our age. One of my thirty year old friends asked me, "Bea is this going to have to be your forever house?" She was awash in sympathy. No it probably isn't. Because of the nature of Mark's job we move about every ten years. But, the question still threw me. Am I nuts getting rid of stuff instead of hanging on to it just in case? Should I put us deep in debt to have the kind of home expected of us? Am I secretly pining away for a big fancy house? I don't think so. Then why am I dreading getting rid of a bunch of furniture? We do not need three desks. I hate housework. I want a more streamlined lifestyle. Gad am I mixed up. And if that digging outside doesn't stop soon I am going to kill someone.

Thanks for listening. I am looking for imput so if you have any, please comment. I want to know why I am longing to go back to being a fat person?

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

P.S. Nory I checked your blog and there was nothing on it. What am I doing wrong?

Nutsy Fagin

Half the darn house is clean. I will attack the other half tomorrow. No sleep again last night. I can cope with the no waist, no thermostat, no sex and no emotional control part of menopause, what I can't cope with is the no sleep. I am a basket case and I have seen all the infomercials and religious t.v. I ever care to see. I tried to get myself to dust at 3 a.m. but it was a non-starter.

More digging today in the front yard. Two giant pieces of equipment are parked in the drive way. I am trapped again. Water was brown last night but cleared up by morning. No news on the house appraisal. I have continuous water and electricity. Food choices better today. Dreading moving. Twice in eight months is too much even if I do want my own home again. I am rambling. What I need is a nap. What I am going to do however is the dishes. I am also going to skip choir practise tonight. Oh good, here comes the guilt. Now my day is complete.

Take care. Love Bea

Trail Mix

I am actually vacuuming the computer room, it just looks like I'm typing. I am sick of cleaning this house from top to bottom for visitors. I wish I could keep the guests penned up in the living room. Pisses me off that they insist on sleeping and eating and using the bathroom. Oh well, such is the life of a hostess. Much as I gripe, I love having company.

I ate an entire bag of trail mix last night. This was after a full evening meal and a protein bar. I didn't want that trail mix. I did not want to eat it as I methodically munched my way through the whole bag. I started crying during the last few bites. I then immediately wanted to upchuck the whole mess but that behaviour is not available in my self destruct arsenal. So I just sat there and cried. All that salt. All those calories. I just couldn't stop. I made a joke last week about shooting myself with a rusty gun. Last night I wanted to stick and ice pick in my jugular and be done with it. No joke.

But I didn't. Today I have been thinking while dusting. It was going back on that damn food plan that set me off. The idea of not being able to have any of the trail mix forced me to eat a complete bag of it. I don't even like trail mix. It was Mark's. Or protein bars. They gag me. But, I can't have them on the food plan so was dying for one all evening. I white knuckled it until 9:30 p.m. and then I gave in. I ate a protein bar and the dam burst. I was like a steam engine powering through that bag of seeds and nuts. Gack.

My body knew it wasn't hungry but my greedy brain was determined to have its due. "Limit my intake will you" it sneered "I will show you who is really in control." And that is what it is about, control. I cannot "control" my appetite. It is primal and ravenous and ungovernable. But I can humor it. If it wants to taste the nasty trail mix, I can let it. If it wants a bite of the dry as dust protein bars I can give it one, with a giant glass of water. What I can't do is the stringent food control thing anymore. I am just not strong enough.

I was so relieved yesterday to return to my beloved food plan. No decisions and no responsibility. No monitoring my hunger level or reasons for eating. No need to be aware. It was like returning to the womb. And then my devoted plan turned around and bit me in the ass.

I am shocked, and scared. If I am not doing my food plan how am I going to eat? I don't want to go back to the "before" photo way of eating and the Intuitive Eating sure wasn't working. I have gained a solid five pounds. But let us pause. Maybe it was working. I have been eating less. Crappy tasty stuff for sure, but less of it. I know when I am full. I know what a normal portion is. I know I mainly eat because I am bored. I have been making choices about what and how much I eat. None of this was happening with the food plan or the before way of eating. Damn, damn, damn. I think I may have crossed the Rubicon.

I am mixed up but feel liberated. From what, I have yet to define. Stay tuned for the rest of the story as it plays out on my plate.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

Short and Sweet

He bought her a dog house! I noticed it yesterday when we drove past. Also there have been more people over there lately and she has been tied up less. I hope they are playing with her in the house. A doghouse. Yeah. Now at least she will have shelter when it rains.

Mud has abated. I now again have clear water running from the faucets. Water heater works again. I cleaned the muddy ice cubes out of the ice maker. Fair is over. When the rain stopped a bunch of men came over and pulled the stuck truck out of our yard. Waiting for the appraisal on the house. Hope it comes in near the asking price. No fence yet. There is electricity in the laundry room today and I am able to wash. The hallelujah chorus plays here. Gearing up for more relatives on Friday. Could be a busy week.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea. Oh, I went back on my food plan. It was a relief. That Intuitive Eating was stressing me out. However I will go back to it after we get moved. The whole subject of allowing myself to choose how and when and what I will eat is fascinating. Take care.

Mud and the Fair

I swear to God this is the hardest place to get water. First it was the fresh water shrimp then it froze solid then it was intermittent and now it is mud. We get our water from a spring in the side of a canyon. Seems there may have been an underground earth quake in the past couple of days and the water pressure in the spring has changed. Muddy water is flowing from all the taps and toilets in town. The water is being tested moment to moment by experts and we are all assured it is drinkable. But no one is going to drink it. Or do dishes in it. Or laundry. I will have to drive fifteen miles to the next little town to wash my whites. Lucky we have all that camping gear. I took two five gallon water jugs to the church last night and filled them after choir practise. It will be like camping in my own kitchen. During the Powers That Be luncheon yesterday the City Manager announced that no one knew what to do about the problem or how long it would last. Mark suggested a human sacrifice. These lunching lawyers are currently deciding between an LDS and a Presbyterian victim. Catholics were ruled out entirely. The water going on and off was bad. This is worse.

The county fair is going on here this week. We are two blocks from the fair grounds. I hear cows and horses and chickens from dawn to dusk. The roads around the fair grounds are torn up and blocked. The stock trucks and horse trailers are using our street as an alternate route. But our street is also still torn up and they have to drive up on what is left of the lawn to avoid the holes. I was coping with the agricultural parade until they diverted the semis with the carnival equipment down our little road. One of the trucks got stuck next to our willow tree. I bet I am the only woman in America with a Ferris Wheel on a flat bed trailer in her front yard. And now it has begun to rain.

Markovian Theory: Vegetarian Fed Hens
Written in black bold letters on the cartons of the eggs I buy are the words "Vegetarian Fed Hens." Mark believes the hens are organized. He thinks they have brochures and web sites. They recruit innocent well meaning Vegetarians for "Relaxing All Natural Retreats at the Chicken Farm." The climax of this luxury weekend is the opportunity to go alone at night into the Hen Houses and collect eggs.... There are very few rebookings.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea

P.S. Mentor Mary told me to pray for the owner of the dog. I don't want to. But I am doing it. Hard to pray for your enemies with any real conviction. What lessons I am learning.

P.s.s. Friday. The water heater quit last night. We think it may be the mud. I also have brown ice cubes in the ice maker. I have gained five pounds. Big surprise. I would shoot myself but the only gun we own is rusted shut. Pray for me as I will for thee. Oh, Mark says to tell you the Ferris Wheel is in pieces, not the big giant wheel. And still it rains.

Confrontation

Well I am a dope. A dope with a bad temper. A currently freaked out frazzled dope with a bad temper.

No food or water for little dog all day yesterday again. I went over at 6pm to give her some. And owner came home. In his dress army uniform. (There was a fair parade here last eve.) He was nice at first. Thanked me for looking out for the dog. Then she put her paw on my foot and whimpered. There was one tiny bite of dog food under my foot. I moved my foot and she ate it. She had earlier eaten two packages of food out of the dirt because she couldn't wait until I put it in a bowl. She drank all the water. When she whimpered I went ballistic. I yelled at him. I was crying. I hollered "What kind of a person are you to leave a dog in this condition. You are a disgrace to that uniform." He then got in my face and screamed for me to get off his property. I was scared but stood my ground and told him I had called the cops and the humane society. He began yelling "Get off my land and never come back." I picked up the my water can and empty dog food packets and left. I shook all the way home. I scared Mark to death because I came in the house and just howled. He didn't know where I had gone and thought I was dying. When I told him the story he got mad at me. Yelled "I told you to stay away from there that nut could have killed you." He kept hugging me in between the hollering. I sobbed for a couple of hours. We then went for a walk and out for an ice cream cone. I couldn't eat it.

Well I balled it all up. Now I have no access to the dog. She has no one to protect her. Why oh why did I have to get mad and shoot off my mouth? Like I was some plump avenging angel in baggy shorts. Gad. I am a dope. A well meaning dope but still a dope.

I love Mark almost as much as I love the cats. I tell him that. He sat me down and told me about all the abused and neglected kids he daily deals with. And the lack of any way institutionally to help most of them. It is real bad here because this is a rural area with no access to any support systems. The churches and charity groups do what they can but they are hamstrung by regulations. Social services are overwhelmed and have no place to put these kids when they take them out of the homes. There is no foster care or residential care at all. He told me all of this to help me cope with the pain of being unable to help the dog. He says he does what he can for the kids that cross his path and then gives them to God. Then he moves on. Says his shoulders are not broad enough to carry the weight of the pain in the world. Says that is why we have God. God will carry the pain. Says that if God cared for the sparrow he will care for the dog.

I read a story years ago about a Utopian society that functioned because of a child imprisoned in a basement with minimal food and water and no contact with the outside world. The child lived in disease and filth and loneliness. Its presence was known to each and every person in the society above. The child's pain was continually reflected against everyday life thereby allowing all the citizens to value what they had. I hated this story. Still do. But it has wisdom. Christ said the poor would always be with us. And the battered and murdered and starved. As a Christian I believe God's love is the only answer to the pain of the present world. It is just hard for me to hang on to this belief in the face of cruelty. I grew up a lot last night. At 50. It is about time I guess.

Thanks to my readers and commenters. There are days I don't know what I would do without you. Take care of yourselves. Love Bea.