Post # 250!

Two hundred and fifty posts. That's what this post is. That might not sound like a lot to most people, but it means a lot to me. It means that although I'm far from perfect, I have followed through on my commitment to myself to write my life. I've always wished I was a writer. I may not have a novel deal or make any money, but I still feel as though that's a title that applies to me. It means that two years ago, when I told myself that I needed to make a commitment to writing as often as possible, I followed through. That's a good feeling.

Could I do better? Certainly. It's been more than two years since I started blogging - I should have more than 500 posts, surely. Could I focus more on crafting stories, and less on reporting the minutiae of my life? Of course. But let's face it - that just wouldn't be me. And finding my voice through this blog is one of my proudest accomplishments.

~boutrosbabe~

That about sums it up

Blech.
That's how I feel today.
I wonder if it is the LARGE Quizno's sub I ate for dinner last night. Like the whole thing. Chicken carbonara. It was just so m m m m m... toasty! Maybe it was the fight Hubby and I got into last night. Over the truck. And chores. And ungratitude (ungratefulness?). And hypocrisy. And just - stuff. Or it could have been about the dead field mouse that my *completely* indoor cats killed overnight. I'm not sure if I'm more sorry for the mouse or for the knowledge that little creatures are in our house. If it isn't that, it could be that I have detention duty and have to work at job #2 tonight, and I don't have time to get from here to there. Another option could be that I have to talk to three students' parents today about how their children aren't going to pass my class this year and will need to go to summer school.
And if it isn't any of those things, it could be that I haven't run in almost a week, and I won't be able to until at least Friday. I haven't lifted weights, I haven't done any push-ups or sit ups, I haven't even stretched. I feel disgusting. Bloated. Stressed. Ugly. Gross.
And I'm not sure what to do about it.

Any ideas?

Ha! It's not Tuesday!

I didn't write on Tuesday per my usual custom because so much has been going on, I wanted to let the furor die down before I posted. What was going on, you ask?

• I got a new vehicle! Six months earlier than I'd anticipated, too. After this school year I will no longer be driving my 1993 Ford Escort Wagon, and will instead be driving my new-to-me 1997 GMC Sierra 1500. I only paid $1,000 for it and have no monthly payment or full-coverage insurance to worry about. I am beyond stoked. This truck is exactly what I wanted and I'm so happy to have it. I know it will more than double my fuel bill, but I'm prepared for that. I will write a "Dear John" letter to my car soon. Actually, it will be a "Dear Mildred" letter, because that's my car's name. My new truck? His name's Burke.
• I can't remember if I mentioned this or not - I have tenure! I am officially IN at school. Starting in the fall, they can no longer choose not to renew my contract without reason. This means so much more stability in my life! Not knowing where I was going to be next year was causing me a lot of stress.
  
• It is only SEVEN more days until I get to hang out with my brother Mark and his fiance. I can't WAIT! I love them so much and have missed them terribly. I haven't seen them since my wedding last June. I do selfishly wonder if they will notice that I've lost about 28 pounds since they last saw me.
  
• I am slowly but surely becoming a runner. I am going through a running program that is supposed to take me from running no minutes to running thirty minutes straight in about six weeks. I'm on week four (yesterday I ran for ten minutes straight), and so far I'm really enjoying it. I am surprised by that, but thrilled, too. It feels so much better to run than I ever thought it would! I'm only doing about 9-12 miles a week, but I'm going further each day. When I get to thirty minutes, I'll post.
  

So that's what's been going on in my world. I would like to make one brief shout-out today: ALICE, I hope your wedding is as beautiful as your dreams. I wish you all the best and hope you are able to relax and enjoy your special day. You deserve this. Congratulations.

~Amalia~

Tuesdays are becoming the only day I post, huh?

Dear Students,
It's that time of year again - yearbook time. A time when, with grinning and eager faces you plop your green book of memories in front of me and ask me to write. "Write something really good," you urge. "Something that's really, like, wow."

What do I write to you?

I'd like to tell you how beautiful I think you are. How each day you show me how mature, caring, and free-thinking you can be. I'd like to say thank you for all the times you came to someone's rescue, helped someone out, or didn't knock someone down when you wanted to, even when we both know they deserved it.

I'd like to tell you what to expect next year. If you're graduating, the world is about to swallow you whole. You won't be part of a group anymore; you're going to be on your own. And that although you may feel lonely, you will grow more in the next twelve months than you have in the last twelve years. There are so many firsts you are about to discover - your first real love, your first life-altering decisions, your first true disappointments. None of these things are easy, but they are each so worth it. If you are headed into your junior or senior year of high school, you have learning coming your way, too. You will have new and difficult classes. Classes that are all the more important because you have realized something - there's life after high school. The things you do here will affect you in your adult life. Suddenly, everything you do matters. Has consequences. I don't envy you this "oh, shit" moment, but I always enjoy the growth that comes from it.

And finally, I'd like to give you a piece of advice. There is a quote that I have used for years as a guide for how I would like to live my life. I don't always manage it, but I do try. These words have served me well as a guide and I hope they can do something similar for you:

"Expose your ideas to the dangers of controversy. Speak your mind and fear less the label of 'crackpot' than the stigma of conformity. And on issues that are important to you, stand up and be counted at any cost."

I hope you all know how much you are loved and respected. Have a wonderful summer, and I'll see you next year.

Your Favorite English Teacher,
Mrs. K

Tuesday is letter day!

Dear Ruthie,
Saturday, you gave me one of the most wonderful gifts I've ever received. A professional-grade, brand-new-to-me Kitchen-Aid mixer. I know it cost a lot of money. If not what you paid for it, then the repair bills and accessories. The shipping alone must have cost quite a bit. I hope that when you gave it to me, you could see how much this gift means to me. You didn't just give me a mixer - you made one of my dreams come true. For years I've wanted one - it was even on my wedding registry. Of course, I never got one because although they are awesome, they are also expensive. So every time I went to Bed Bath and Beyond, I'd look at the beautiful mixers and dream.
But I don't have to dream any more.
Now I have one more piece of the perfect life - you've given that to me. I've always thought that happiness was a cat and a Kitchen-Aid mixer. Now I have both and know that it's true. You have done what my parents, husband, and I have never done.
Saying "thank you" just doesn't seem adequate. How do I tell you how much this gift means? I can bake you cookies and cakes and other things made with my mixer (and I will). I can write you a letter on my blog (which I did). But showing you how my heart is filled with joy and gratitude is more difficult. I am truly touched by your thoughtfulness and generosity. I can only hope that someday there will be a day that I will be able to give you a gift like you have given me, and then you will know all the words that fill my heart that are having a difficult time making their way to paper.

With Warmest Regards,
Amalia

Where an oft-used expression comes true

In Maine, there's an expression: "You just can't get there from here." Most commonly, this is said to tourists looking for a senic location they just can't seem to find (often because they're idiots and they're in the entirely wrong part of the state!).

I never thought I'd be using that phrase to call out from work.

The road I drive to work each day is flooded. It's flooded not even three hundred yards from my house. I left for work today, glad that the sun was shining after yesterday's heavy rain. My happy mood didn't last long - the road is closed. As in impassible. Holy crap! I wondered if people were just being cautious... until I really looked and saw that there is probably eight feet of water covering the lowest part of the road. Holy. Crap. I turned around and drove to the local gas station to ask if the back raod out of town was passible - if so, it would take me maybe six miles out of my way, but put me back on the road to work on the other side of the flood in front of me.

"I don't know if you're gonna be able to get to Millinocket," the owner said. "I heard last night that the road was washed out in three or four places."

Thinking fast, I ran through other potential routes. The next closest way would take me more than thirty miles out of my way. "Have you heard about Medford Center?"

The owner raised his left eyebrow and squinted in introspection, one hand lifting the brim of his greasy baseball cap to scratch at the hair underneath it. The hat and the eyebrow came down together. "You can try that way, I haven't heard anything. You're best bet is to call the Sherrif's Department and see if they've had any reports."

I thanked him and got back in my tiny red wagon and headed home. If I couldn't get though Medford Center, I'd have to go clear to Old Town and take the Interstate up. That's at least fifty miles out of my way. Once I got home I called the sherrif's department and asked them what they knew. The dispatcher said he hadn't heard any reports, but he hated to send me out there, since many secondary roads were flooded and they hadn't received reports on them yet because no one really drives on them.

Great.

I called my husband at work to ask him what I should do. He has, after all, lived here his whole life and knows the entire area better than I could ever hope to. Plus, one of his co-workers lives in Medford and might have the inside scoop on the road conditions.

"Well, hon Boob (that's his friend's name - honest!) says that the Medford road is closed, too, so that means you can't take the Joe Raymond Road. You can try going through LaGrange and taking the Howland road, but you'll have to go through Enfield and one of the guys says that's out, too. You're only other option is to get on the Interstate in Old Town and drive north from there."

"Is there any guarantee that I can get through the Alton Bog before I get to Old Town?" I asked, remembering that the Alton Bog is in rough shape on good days. I shuddered to think what it would look like today.

"Well, hon, you'd think we'd have heard by now if it were closed, but you never can tell. The water may continue to rise for a while before going down. You just never know. I wish I knew what to tell you," he said.

I hug up with him and thought furiously. Was it worth taking a fifty-mile risk without a guarantee of safe passage? My little Mildred is not the kind of car that can plow through giant puddles, and I'm not any kind of daredevil. Crap.

I called the school and told them that I wasn't going to be able to make it in today. "I just can't get there from here!" I said. I still can't believe that the old Maine saying has actually come true.

Yeay!

I'm officially a size 10! I can hardly believe it. I mean, I knew my old pants are too big, but they're old and stretched out - it doesn't automatically mean I've lost a pants size. But I have. I'm a size 10! It has been at least eight years since I've been that small. I can hardly believe it. I had to try on several pairs of pants last week, just to be sure. I bought a pair of gray dress pants at Fashion Bug for work (I will try to take a pic this week and post it), exchanged a pair of size 14 jeans for 12s a American Eagle (too big still, but better than the 14s!), and fit into size 10s there and at Target, too. I have been GIDDY ever since. Woo hoo! I even bought a couple of cute new shirts, too.
I also tried on a bikini. You're not getting a picture of that. Not because I looked fat, because I didn't. I still have muffin top, but honestly, it wasn't that bad. No, you're not seeing a picture because my body looks... well, it looks old. And wrinkly. All the places I've lost a lot of weight (mostly my bum and thighs) have that Eighty-year-old-woman-who's-tanned-too-much-for- several-decades look. It's gross. I don't know what I'm going to do about it, either, because how do you tone the sides of your butt? There's no WAY I can put on enough muscle in those areas to look good and not like some freakish Beyonce knockoff. I'm not sure if it will get better with time, if I'm screwed, if firming creams will help... any ideas?
Yesterday I officially began my running program. Eight days late, but I did at least start it over vacation. I don't even know why I procrastinated, because it wasn't bad at all. I don't know when I'll get another chance to run this week, either. I'm going to try to MAKE time. We'll see how that goes. I joined the website mapmyrunning.com, so if I can figure out how, I will try to post either a map of my run or my training calendar. Sounds official, doesn't it? :)
April Vacation was nice, if busy (I worked 36.5 hours at Rite Aid). Aside from my car breaking down again, nothing terrible happened. My car repair bill ate up my tanning money, Grey's Anatomy shirt money and my electrolysis money. I'm back to square one with all that. It sucks. Maybe next month??

Tuesday is Letter Day...

Except when you'd rather go shopping. And so I am.
None of my pants fit me any more, because of the weight I've lost. I wander around school and Rite Aid, one hand doing actual work while the other one hauls up my pants. I deserve a new pair of pants! And while I'm at it, I need a couple of bras, too. And I might try on swimsuits... just to try on. I have loads of errands to run, and I can't wait to get started. So no letter today. If I find a cute pair of pants, I'll take a pic and post it.

Take Care!
Amalia

Well, one of these days is letter day, damnit!

Dear Amalia,
You suck. No, really. You do. What other reason could you have for ignoring your blog friends all week? For not giving them the letter they so richly deserve on Tuesday, when it was due?! You're worse than your students! Some example you are. I suppose now you're going to tell me that you want to move Letter Day to a day later in the week so that you have more "time"? Well too bad. Tuesday is letter day. Get with the program!
And speaking of programs, what's with the lack of weight loss lately? Did you just decide to quit, NINE POUNDS from your goal? WTF? Suddenly you're okay with your body? Nah - didn't think so. So put down the candy bar and back slowly away. You've still got a long way to go, and putting it off does NOT make it go away. You're on the Oregon Trail, Honey - get your ass back on that wagon!
I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you could do so much better than you have been. It's time for some tough love, and I am just the one to give it to you! So post this article, apologize to your readers for leaving them hanging for so long, and go eat a salad or something.
What was that? You're having pizza for lunch? You never learn...

Sincerely,
Amalia

Vacation Countdown!

One more week until April vacation. I can't wait! It is going to be tough to get through these next five days. I have always said that the space between February and April vacations is the toughest time in education - there's nothing for the kids to do, the weather sucks, basically it's miserable for everyone. Thank God the warmer weather is here! Hopefully when we come back from break the snow will be gone and the kids can go outside again.
Contrary to what the lack of posting would imply, I am still working hard on losing weight. I want desperately to begin a running program so that I don't have to ride that damn bike anymore (I won't tell you that I haven't ridden it for more than two weeks). To make sure that I start the program out right, I bought "The Complete Idiot's Guide to Running" by Bill Rodgers and Scott Douglas. One of the most important things I've read so far is that before you can run, you have to walk. I'm supposed to be able to walk 30 minutes, four times a week before I even think about running. Sound simple, right? Well, due to my crazy work schedule, that is easier said than done. But I am going to give it a try. Today is day number 1 of walking. I will leave my house at 4pm, and walk until my husband picks me up on his way home. I will have to walk on the treadmill here at school at least one day (probably Wednesday) and both Friday and Saturday, but I think I can do it. If I do it this week, I will start running during vacation. I must save some money to buy some jogging pants/shorts and a runner's belt to hold my cell phone and mp3 player, but other than that I think I'm good. My weight goal is to be under 150 by June 4. I'll keep you updated as I go.

Bear and I are doing well - he's been doing a lot of repairs to the house now that it's warmer out. He put a banister on the staircase (I don't know how I went without it for so long) and fixed a spot on the bathroom floor that has been bugging me. We are still working on the garage, but it's tough to clean when we have so many things that have to be taken to the dump. He re-strung my clothes line and snow blowed the snow out from under it, so I can hang laundry out as soon as it stops going below freezing at night (yes, I leave my laundry out overnight. sue me). We have been trying to figure out a way to take a mini-vacation this summer, maybe to Nantucket. Does anyone have any insider tips on where to stay or what to do?

Not much else is going on, really. I'm getting very excited to be seeing Jeff Dunham at the end of the week. Are you totally jealous?!? Have you YouTubed him yet? You will be once you have!

~Amalia~

Tuesday is letter day!*

Dear Rite Aid Customers,
I realize that you and I haven't spoken much since I joined the Rite Aid team last September. In fact, mostly I just smile and thank you while handing you your change. That doesn't mean that I don't have a mind that thinks. I'd like to take this opportunity to say some things that I've been holding back. What follows is a list of important facts for you to internalize for your next trip to your friendly pharmacy:

1. When you hand me a twenty dollar bill and I mark it with the counterfeit pen, please do not say, "It should be good, I just made it!" and then guffaw. I've heard this one before. Trust me. It's not new or funny - it's annoying.
2. If I ask you if you'd like to donate a dollar to a particular cause, please don't say, "what do you think?" That's just dumb. If I knew what you thought, would I ask you?
   
3. While on the subject of donating to charity, please don't feed me either of the following lines: "I already donated" (possible but improbably, especially when you say it on the FIRST DAY OF THE CAMPAIGN) or "I can't afford it" (as you pay for your Snickers with a fifty dollar bill). I'm not stupid. Just say "no, thank you!"
4. For those customers with food stamps cards - STOP BUYING JUNK FOOD! The government did not give you that for you to buy cases of Mt. Dew and JuJu Bees. If you need help to buy groceries, then buy groceries - not useless crap with no nutritional value. You may think you're entitled to that money and you can use it how you want, but you're wrong. You're abusing the system put in place to help you. Smarten the fuck up.
5. Speaking of subsidy-assisting assholes, please know that I do judge you based on what you buy. Two bottles of wine a night? Alcoholic. Jock itch spray and condoms? Man-whore (and nasty). Weight loss pills and a giant bag of Reese's? Hopeless. Cheet-os and a drug test kit? Unemployed pot smoker. Stretch mark lotion (for your pregnant belly), Marlboro Lights and a thirty pack of Bud? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
   
6. Yes, I wear a smock and a name tag while working. Do not assume that this is my only job, or the best job I could get, or that I lack intelligence for any other kind of work. I am a college-education career woman who has a bigger vocabulary and SAT score at twenty-six than many of you will accomplish in your lifetime. You have no idea how educated, intelligent, and cultured I am. Don't assume you're smarter than me - you're wrong.
7. Simple courtesies like please and thank you will get you much further than demanding things or rudeness ever will. Try it.
8. There are Federal and State laws that regulate how I do my job. Getting pissed at me because I carded you does not help you get your cigarettes. I'm not in charge of the law. I am responsible for keeping my job, and I will continue to uphold all laws to keep it. Quite frankly, I don't care about your problems. I'm not losing my job because you're an idiot.
   

Thank you for taking the time to listen. I'm sure that now you've read this, you will immediately stop acting like such a bonehead and thank me for all the hard work I do for you. I try hard to make sure you have a pleasant experience so that I can, too.

Sincerely,
~Amalia~

PS And please remember our company's slogan - "With us, it's personal!"

*I know, I know, later again. I'm sorry! I will try to be better from now on. Swear.

And now for something completely different

Sorry I've been away all week... I kind of wanted that last post to stay on top for a while. I think it deserved it. Now that I again have control over those riotous emotions, I think it's time to lighten the mood. Therefore, I have news: I'm going to some of the most awesome comedy shows in the next two months. First is Jeff Dunham, who is playing in Houlton on April 19th. If you have never seen his stuff, go to YouTube and type "Jeff Dunham Achmed" and watch. Seriously. You're gonna die laughing. Well, that, or because Achmed kills you! "I KILL YOU!!" He he.
On Sunday my awesome brother Mark called and told me that at the end of May he, his fiance, me, my husband and TEN OTHER PEOPLE have FRONT ROW SEATS to Bob Marley! He's a Maine comedian, and he is SOOOOO funny. If you're from Maine, you MUST see his stuff.
They say that laughter truly is the best medicine, and since I found out that I'm going to not one but TWO comedy shows this spring, I've been feelin' fine! I can't stop smiling. WOO HOO!
If I can get any kind of pictures at these shows, I will post them.

~Amalia~

Tuesday is letter day!*

Dear Mike,
I'm sure you're surprised to be getting this letter. It is, after all, the first communication we've had in ten years. But honestly? We need to talk. Or more accurately, I need to talk and it's time for you to listen.
I don't know why you broke off all contact with my parents and me ten years ago. We never got an explanation, and although we wracked our brains for years, we never could figure out what we'd done. I wonder sometimes if we did anything at all, or if you just decided on a whim to cut us out of your life. Whatever the reason, I know that it did not have anything to do with me. How could it? I was sixteen when I last saw you. Your son (my nephew) was still in diapers. what was he, two? one and a half? The last time you visited it was summer. I was sixteen, turning seventeen. I had a great time getting to know my nephew, laying groundwork for what I thought was going to be a long happy relationship. I knew you lived in Missouri, but I also knew that you'd come back to Maine to visit as often as you could, and that once I was old enough, perhaps I'd come visit you. We'd always gone a long time without visits, as you lived with your mom growing up, and could only visit our Dad and us every other month or so. It was our version of normal.
I always loved when you and Mark came to visit. You and Mark may have been 100% brothers (as opposed to our 50% sibling relationship), but you couldn't have been more different. Where Mark liked to pick on me to get a reaction, you were my knight. You always defended me, and of all of my brothers (four in total if you count Steve and John), you were my favorite. You spent time with me, took care of me... you always had my back. I loved being on your team for snowball fights and fort-making. You were strong and took no prisoners, and always managed to make Mark sorry for being mean to me. I may have been small, but I appreciated that. When you were old enough and went into the Army, I was so proud of you! Mark's joining the Navy didn't have the same feeling. You'd done it first - you were the bravest, strongest brother I had. But after that last summer visit, your life began to change. You got divorced, and we didn't know where you'd moved to. Your ex-wife had custody of my nephew, and although she still writes and sends pictures to our dad, it isn't the same. I just wanted to talk to you - to find out what had gone wrong. How could my brother the Hero have failed at anything? But you didn't call. You didn't write. We didn't have any way to get in touch with you. At first we weren't worried. We knew if something bad happened to you we'd hear about it. We just figured you were taking some time for yourself, time to lick your wounds and come out stronger when you were healed. You knew our address and phone number, so we waited.
And waited.
And kept right on waiting.
Ten years. For a decade we heard nothing from you. Mark got stuck in the middle as we began to ask him questions. What was your deal? Were you mad at us? Had we done something wrong? What? He hated that position of middle man, and so told us little to nothing. We knew you were still in Missouri, we knew you were a police officer, but that was it. I had to resort to the internet to get information. There was a write up of you in the Rolla Times Newspaper - you'd apprehended some criminal, even though you had to chase him on foot and lost a shoe in the process. I left a comment on that story, hoping you'd find it. It said "Hey - that's my brother! Love you Mike!" And at the bottom I posted my email address. I hoped you'd see it and respond, re-open the lines of communication. But you didn't. I saw in the Rolla Town Council Meeting Minutes that your K-9 companion was retiring, and you'd asked to adopt him as your pet. Again, I was so proud of you. You did a good thing! You were still my hero, even years after we'd stopped sledding and building forts.
But then last year, I saw something that hurt me. More than the lack of communication, more than having nothing but table scraps of information I got off the internet. These were pictures on Alec's Myspace page. You know Alec, Mark's best friend? The pictures were of you, Mark and Alec in a bar in Maine. You'd been to Maine, and you hadn't called. Mark could have called me too, and I was pretty pissed at him as well. But you - you broke my heart. Regardless of what my parents may or may not have done to cause you to leave them, there was no reason to leave me, too. I'm an adult now - we CAN have a relationship. Seeing those pictures really made it clear to me that it wasn't that you couldn't talk to me, get back in touch with me - it was that you didn't want to. Suddenly the picture I have of you in my head, the image of Mike the Hero, warped. Became something different. And I was so angry, so hurt. I didn't understand what I had done to deserve such shitty treatment. If I had deserved it, I would have understood. I know what it's like to hold a grudge. I do. But I didn't do anything to you! I tried so many times to keep you in my life. I sent you an invitation to my high school graduation, my college graduation, my wedding. At every major event in my life, I tried to include you. I put myself out there, made the first move, extended my hand and my heart to my brother. You.
I got nothing in return.
You didn't even RSVP in the negative for those things. You just didn't respond. It wasn't that you couldn't come to Maine - the pictures had proven that you would, could, and DID come to Maine. Just not to see me.
And now, once again, you're in Maine. You have apparently moved here, although I didn't hear that from you. You haven't talked to me yet. I heard that from Mark, who is again playing the middle man. You have seen and talked to my parents at their home. From what I gather, you haven't offered any explanation for your absence or for your reasons for coming back. After all you've done this last decade, I'm guessing that you only reconciled with my parents because Mark told you to do it before he gets married this fall. A wedding you will be in, I'd like to point out (where were you for mine?). Mark doesn't want family drama on his big day, and I don't blame him. I do, however, doubt your motives.
I don't trust you. Not anymore. When I was small, I would have followed you to the ends of the Earth and beyond, trusting that you knew what you were doing and would never cause me harm. I don't know when that changed, but I'm sorry it has. Because Mike the Hero is gone. And no matter what happens from here, I can never have him back. The Mike who exists now is still my brother. I'm not sure what kind of relationship we can have, but (I hope I don't regret this) I am willing to explore our options.
I'm waiting for your call.

Sincerely,
Your Sister



* I realize that today is in fact Wednesday, not Tuesday which is the actual letter day. I apologize for the delay and hope this was a letter worth waiting for.

Monday Again

It's Monday again, and since I don't blog much on the weekends, I thought I'd use today to give you all an update.

1. No books yet. I'm practically foaming at the mouth! I check the mail every day. I hope to get them soon! Once I do, rest assured you will get some mad name-dropping goodness, and maybe even some pics!
2. I did take some pictures this weekend. I hope to post them tonight. Mostly of my knitting, but some of the snow, too. It has finally started to melt. Slowly but surely, it's melting.
3. No news on the Mike front - I know he has my phone number, but if he has called he hasn't left a message. I did NOT go home to my parents' house last weekend, choosing instead to retain my sanity and temper. I know I am better for it. I will perhaps see them this weekend, instead. I'm not sure yet.
4. I'm in the process of revamping my weight loss charts and goals. You'll notice the chart at the bottom of my page has changed - I'm trying to focus more on increasing activity instead of counting calories and such. We'll see how that goes.
5. Bear and I began the arduous process of cleaning out the garage yesterday. Even though it wasn't quite 40 degrees outside, we spent a couple of hours sorting through good stuff and garbage. Tonight I think we are re-arranging furniture in the house. I'm going to try to squeak in spring cleaning where I can.

So that's what's going on in my world. What's going on in yours?

~Amalia~

In case you're wondering...

... I'm doing much better than I was a few days ago. I still don't know what I'm going to do about my brother, what (if anything) I'm going to say. But I am at least back in control of my emotions and almost back to my normally positive self. I was going to go to my parents' house this weekend, but will be staying home with my husband instead. We will cuddle, clean, and maybe make a shopping trip to the "big city." Mostly, we will be "sheltering in place." I have been knitting a lot lately and hope to share some pictures soon. I may even take some more pictures of the snow pack so you may compare them with the last ones I shared. Would you like that?

Also, if I am lucky enough to get the free books I won in a contest sponsored by an exciting new author, I will post pictures and give mad groupie-style love and a shout out to her. I can't WAIT!

I could use a friend right now!!

My parents have a nasty habit of informing me of very important information via email. They don't call when a beloved pet or family member dies... they email. Burglar trying to get in to my grandmother's house? Email. BROTHER WHO HAS NOT SPOKEN TO ME OR OUR FATHER IN MORE THAN A DECADE SHOWS UP AT MY PARENTS' HOUSE UNANNOUNCED... email.

No. Fucking. Way.

My half-brother Mike, who mysteriously and without explanation broke off all contact with me, our father and my mother (his step-mother). I have not seen him or his son Zach in more than ten years. I have not spoken to him, received a card, email, phone call... nothing. This morning when I got to work, there was an email from my mother waiting for me. It said:

"Mike and Zach just walked in."

It was from my father to my mother originally (I got a forward). I had no explanation, no one called me last night to tell me... just an email waiting for me to get to eventually.

I am ... I don't know how I am, really. I want to cry, I'm shaking with the anger I've felt towards my brother for over a decade, I want to talk to him, I don't want to talk to him, I'm hurt, I'm lost... I'm shaken. I don't really know what to think, what to do. I have wanted my family together for so long. Family is supposed to stick together. No matter what. I have felt personally rejected by his treatment of me (and honestly, I don't think he cut off contact with us because of ME. So why couldn't have have sent an email once in a while? He could have had my contact information any time he wanted from another brother, one we share and both talk to). I invited him to my high school graduation, my college graduation, my wedding... he never even contacted me to say he wouldn't come. He has lived for many years in Missouri, and never called whenever he came to Maine.
I am crying, shaking, a mess. and I have a class to teach in ten minutes. Damn you, Mike. Damn you for putting me, us, through all of this! What did I ever do to you that was worth causing all of this pain?

I have no idea what happens now. I know I don't want to scare him off again. Not now, when he's back after so long. But I don't know if I can forgive him, either.

A email from my Daddy (true story)

When I got to school on Monday, I had the following email from Daddy. I only edited the spelling enough for you to read it - the rest I left as is. This is the true story of what happened at my parents' house last weekend. I should tell you before you read that Baxter is my mom's dog (a Chesapeake Bay Retriever), and my grammie (Mother in the email) lives next door. Debbie is my mom. Oh, and for those who don't know, the .357 is a handgun that my father keeps in his nightstand. Honest. Oh, and one more thing - My grandmother is almost 93, and even on the best of days is a little disoriented.

RE: BAD MAN AT MOTHER'S
to: Amalia
from: Daddy

I CAME HOME from work as usual Friday night took the dogs out and went to bed!!! Later Baxter tried to get out of his kennel and was having a bad time so I got up to see what his problem was.. I looked out the little bathroom window to see a person going around the trailer!!! he went up the path to mother's so I told Debbie to call 911 and loaded the .357!!! as I was putting my boots on the garage lights came on at mother's followed by the lights at the door... nobody messes with my mother. I out the back door and headed over as I walked down the hill I couldn't see anyone and was looking around when I saw the dome light on in the GMC and the door open!!! as I got next to the tree he started to exit the truck so I fired a shot just over his head to get his attention!!! I told him to lay on the ground or he would be dead... he slowly got down on the ground and started talking to me BUT I did not have my hearing aids in so I couldn't tell what he was saying so I yelled at him to shut up.. at that time I did not know mother was on the phone with the police but knew Debbie was calling so figured they would show up before long!!! when they came in the yard I stepped away from the tree so they could see me and pointed at him the cops were also talking to me BUT I couldn't here them so I yelled at them that I couldn't hear them a put the .357 on the ground and stepped away from it with my hands in plain sight so they wouldn't shoot me... as soon as they got handcuffs on him I told them I was going in the house to see mother SHE WAS UPSET BUT FINE. he had banged on the door and scared her but she pushed the automatic dial button for 911 and was talking to the dispatcher... she was very shaky but calmed down after the police talked to her she is back in bed but I don't know if she will sleep THANK GOD FOR DOGS AND GUNS
ME

In which we do not add to Amalia's night fears, thereby making it impossible for her to sleep, and by extension, you can't, either.

"If you hear anything weird tonight, wake me up, okay? DiShawn drove by three times tonight really slowly, and he knows how much money in guns I have in the house. That's why I'm taking this one upstairs tonight." He pointed to a handgun in its case.

Great. just frickin' great. I've mentioned before how I'm terrified of the dark, but now I actually have someone solid to fear. And that person wants my husband's guns?! Holy, friggin' crap! Not good. not good at all.
About four o'clock this morning, I heard a thud, followed by two more. Not the furnace, not the cats wrestling... I wasn't sure what it was. Remembering Bear's caution, I put my hand on his shoulder and woke him up. "Honey, I just heard three bangs. It sounded like someone kicking the front door, or maybe trying to get into the garage." Bear, groggy with sleep, listened. He didn't hear anything. A good sport, though, he grabbed the handgun and went downstairs in the dark. He can see in the dark better than anyone I know.
There was no one there.
After a few minutes, he came back upstairs, unloaded the gun and got back into bed. "Sorry, Hon. I really did hear something. And you told me to tell you if I heard anything."
He sighed. "I know I did. go back to sleep."
Easier said than done. We both laid in the dark for over an hour, trying to get back to sleep. It was much harder than I thought - I kept imagining scenes where DiShawn or someone else would break in, and how Bear and I would react. I came to the unflattering conclusion that I would probably run away and hide and let my husband take care of it. Honestly. It wasn't a flattering realization.
At about five o'clock, I heard the banging noise again. Thankfully, Bear heard it too. "Was that the noise you heard?" he asked. I nodded. "Four times this time."
Again, he went downstairs, and again he didn't find anything. He looked outside, checked all the doors... nothing. As he was climbing the stairs again, the sound happened again. "Was that what you heard?" He asked.
"Yes! That's it!" I said.
He threw me a disgusted look. "It's the cats, hon, digging at their litter box." Zedd, the giantest of all cats, picks up the litter box and throws it around instead of just digging in the litter itself.
"Oh." I said. "Sorry."
As we left the house this morning, locking the door for the first time ever, I looked towards Bear's car. "Your door's not shut tight, Hon. Did someone get into your car?"
"Bear sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry I even said anything. You need to stop worrying!" I looked askance at him. "You told me to tell you, so I did. Don't be mad at me!"
"I'm not mad. But you really need to get control."
He's right. I do. But how? I'm terrified by the possibility of not being safe in my own home, whether the threat is real or imagined. I hate it, but can't seem to change it. Any ideas?

Tuesday is letter day!

Dear L-Unit,
Before you begin reading, you should know that this is a love letter. To most people that would sound weird, but I know that you know what I mean. Most of our friendship - short as it has been thus far - has been a love-fest. It's strange, really, to love a woman as much as I love you. You are quite frankly one of the most impressive people I've ever met. To greet each day with joy as you do, to find such pleasure in the small things, to keep smiling no matter what life throws at you ... well, as I said, it's impressive.
It's been well documented that you are an amazing mom. If, God forbid, I should ever procreate, I'd want you to raise him or her. Mothering comes so naturally to you, as though you were born to it. I'm in awe of how calmly you accept and deal with all the crises you have been handed, and the grace with which you rise above each new setback. C-Unit is thriving because you are her mother. She and N-Dogg are the happy, joyful kids they are because they came from you, and have you in them. They are very lucky.
Maybe it's the maternal aspect of you that first drew me to you. My own mother didn't do nearly the job that you have done already, and so I grew up with a hunger for a true mother, someone who would love me unconditionally, despite my faults (rather than view me with distaste because of them). You do that. I know that no matter how badly I have botched something, or how mad I get at myself, you will still love me. You will stand by me, no matter what happens. That kind of support, the have-my-back mentality you demonstrate means more to me than you know. I hope that some day I will be able to repay this trust.
This letter is already long, so I would like to end by bulleting a list of other things about you that are great:

• You always ask me how I'm doing.
• You show just enough vulnerability so that I know you aren't perfect.
• You wouldn't be as great if you were perfect.
• I swear.
• You tell great stories.
• Your dimple.
  
• Your laugh.
• Your text and voice messages.
• Your children

Finally, thank you for being my friend. I hope that as we grow older, we grow closer, and I find another letter's worth of wonderful things about you.

Sincerely (and with much love),
~Amalia~

And so Ends Resolution 2008... sort of.

The past week or so, I have been frustrated and discouraged by my seemingly endless weight loss journey. Riding the bike every day (which was my new year's resolution) had become a dreaded chore, not the fun challenge it had been when I started out. I am kind of passive-agressive at times, so I started sabotaging myself by eating crap - steak and cheese, grilled ham and cheese on white bread, ice cream, Pepsi, the works. Well, Wednesday night when I got home from job #2, something must have shown on my face to cause my husband to ask, "What's wrong?"
I burst into tears.
Suddenly, it was all too much. Working two jobs and trying to keep the house clean. Washing three loads of laundry but not having time to take them to the laundrymat to be dried, so I had to wash them again when they started to stink. Trying to accomplish every single thing I had to in a day while still trying to eat right and exercise. I was ready to give up, and cried to my husband about how I didn't want to do it anymore.
"Then don't," he said. "Take a break. Give yourself some time."
So I did. I broke my resolution and didn't ride the bike Wednesday night. Instead I showered and went to bed with my husband, who was kind and held me until I fell asleep, even though I might have cried on his shoulder just a bit. In the morning, I called in sick to job #1, and took the day for myself. I dabbled around the house, organized my knitting yarn/projects/supplies that were scattered everywhere, cuddled my cats and generally relaxed.
And I forgave myself.
I told myself that it was okay that I didn't ride the bike, that trying to squeeze in twenty minutes of difficult cardio right before bed didn't help me, and if I hated working out I would quit. I realized that I'm in this to make myself happy and healthy, not fit and miserable.
And you know what?
Last night when I got home from job #2 (which I still had to work but it was okay because it was only four hours), I rode the bike. Not because I had to, but because I WANTED to. Because I hadn't been active much that day and wanted to do something good for my body. For me.
I feel like a million dollars today. Peaceful. Serene. Capable.

and it feels good.