Thanksgiving recap

This past week has been one of my "Larry David Weeks" (if you haven't seen Curb Your Enthusiasm, I recommend it highly). I get in these grouchy, negative moods and I start dwelling on life's unanswerable questions, like, "Why do parents let their kids push those mini carts all over the grocery store?" and "Why do stores provide these child-friendly carts? Do they want me to get aggro with a three-year-old in the chips aisle?" I'm always moody around the holidays, so I blamed it on that. I hope your Thanksgiving was wonderful, by the way. Ours was...interesting.

Here we are before getting in the car to drive to Larry's mom's ranch. Oh, how we have no idea what awaits us...

Larry's mom is a horse gal through and through. She owns horses herself (three currently, I think) and has been riding since she was a girl. For this Thanksgiving, she invited many of her horse friends (meaning people with horses, not horses themselves). Horse people are a diffrent breed entirely. I usually feel weird at gatherings, but this year, I felt very weird. I got to sit back and watch ladies drinking tequila out of little glass boots (one of these ladies then walked into the screen door, twice, which is, you know, a big highlight). Another one of the ladies wore yellow, leather pants and had a stuffed monkey hanging from her belt. Every time she squeezed it (or if it hit against her hip hard enough), it started making noises. It made noises during grace/toasts. There were dogs everywhere. One jumped on the buffet table and ate the ham. Another peed on my purse. The food wasn't particularly stressful for me. I ate some snacks before I got there. I've never been big on Thanksgiving food. All the dishes look like grown-up baby food to me. I think it's the pureed-ness of the casseroles. Anyway, we left right after the meal and were happy to get home. I made calzones for our real Thanksgiving dinner (and I'll post the recipe, finally, this week. Promise).

The day after Thanksgiving, my mood was much better. I was feeling daring so I went out into the world to experience Black Friday. I would say it was more of a Gray Friday this year. It didn't seem particularly busy and insane to me. I didn't hit any pedestrians in parking lots or have any breakdowns in cash register lines. I finished birthday gift shopping for Larry, braved the aisles of Costco, and crossed some other errands off my list. Success! Then, suddenly, my good mood vanished and I was grouchy again. Poor Larry. Thankfully, I had my period to blame. I took myself to the cheapie movie theater yesterday to see "Fame" (a two-star-er) and "The Invention of Lying" (three stars). Then, today, we took a day trip that made everything better.

Julian is this little mountain community above San Diego. I've been wanting to go up there, just to get away somewhere. The drive was beautiful. It didn't seem like we were in Southern California anymore. There were miles of windy roads and farm lands. We ate lunch at this little restaurant called Jeremy's on the Hill, with a 20-something, Le Cordon Bleu chef. I got a veggie panini with swiss and avocado, and truffle oil fries. I have no idea what truffle oil is (which is why I could never be a food blogger). I don't think I even know what a truffle is. Anyway, it was good. We walked around one of the wilderness parks after.

I never hear Larry complain that he's cold, but he did; it was kind of cute. It was in the forties there (with patches of snow on the ground!) and he was wearing a t-shirt.

See the snow?

It was gorgeous. I'm so glad Larry knew it was exactly what I needed.

This Thanksgiving, I'm especially thankful for my husband. Larry, thank you for not just tolerating my moods, but for loving me through them and helping me find my way to contentment. I'm not always good at getting out of the house. I can get into funks very easily and start making mental lists of why life is dumb. Larry kind of tells me to cut it out, in the most patient, loving way possible.

I hope you had a great Thanksgiving weekend :)

***

Today's gratitude:

1. Somehow, I managed to just stop my exercise routine. I guess posting about it helped. I felt a lot of anxiety leading up to breaking the pattern but, now that it's broken, I'm strangely relaxed.

2. I'm reading The Paradox of Choice (as many of you recommended to me after this post). I LOVE it. I can't stop underlining passages. I'm convinced that much of what it discusses explains the discontent I run up against sometimes.

3. I slept A LOT this weekend and feel rested for the work week.

4. There's a stray, orange cat coming to visit every night.

5. I'm excited to think of ideas for some more-than-day trips :) We don't get much time off work, but a girl can dream.

The happy in holidays

This past week, while browsing status updates on Facebook, I've noticed a lot of people with a lot of insomnia. There have been a multitude of updates like, "Still up at 3am. What the hell?" and "Why won't my mind turn off?" Mind you, these are updates from people I consider "laid back," "easygoing," and, well, nothing like me. I wondered if it was something in the air (or water, as the phrases go), and then I saw a stranger's response to one of the updates and it clicked. He said, simply: "I can't sleep either. 'Tis the season!"

Meaning, the holiday season. The season of stress and gatherings and social pressure and busy schedules and crowds and certain songs being played an absurd number of times.

First up: Thanksgiving. We're going to Larry's mom's house. I'm a little nervous since I haven't seen them in a long time, and since I'm now "that girl" who doesn't eat meat. But, it'll be fine. It's Christmas (or, rather, the entire month of December) that gets me a little frazzled.

I asked Larry the other day if I'm becoming a scrooge. I'm not religious, but I've always liked the holidays, in fine, secular spirit. I like the colder air, the smells, the lights, the baking, the movies (as evidenced by a shelf dedicated to them). Oh, and the time off from work is nice. As I've gotten older, though, my anxiety around the holidays has increased exponentially. Instead of excitement, which is what I used to feel, I feel some dread (and, guessing by the Facebook insomnia epidemic, I'm not alone).

The issue for me with the holidays is this: There are so many people to please. The therapeutic words of wisdom are, "Just do what makes you happy," but this is not something I've ever been particularly good at. I mean, what do these words even mean? Sadly, too often, I aim for "What will cause me the least guilt and inner turmoil?" and then I call that "happy." But, essentially, I'm not doing something to get a positive feeling; I'm doing something to avoid a negative one. This is a common theme in my life. I don't really enjoy counting calories, for example, but I love knowing I'm not out of control. Over time, these become confused and I think I love counting calories. Similarly, I don't really enjoy big gatherings, but I love the relief of knowing I made an appearance and didn't disappoint anyone. The end relief is a big reason why I go to some events; but, if that's the case, am I really THERE? I love my family immensely, but I prefer to see them in intimate settings, in small groups, throughout the year, for special and unspecial occasions. In the bigger gatherings, I become a wallflower and I don't feel like I get quality time with any one person. I tell a handful of people that, "No, my book is not published yet" and "Yes, my job is fine" and "No, we are not having babies" and then I'm just...tired. I get exhausted by chit-chat faster than I used to. Once the meal is over, I find myself waiting to just go home.

This year, there's a work party and some dates with friends who are in town. The family events consist of a Pre-Christmas Christmas to accommodate my sister's work schedule, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, Grandma's 80th Birthday on December 27th. We're definitely going to Grandma's birthday, and I figure that will be a good time to see everyone for the holiday too, even if it's belated. Is that scrooge-ish? When I told my sister I might just see them at the birthday party, she said, "Don't be like [insert name of weird relative here], Kim." The relative in question never comes to anything. We all think he's, well, weird. But is it that weird to want to have my own holiday traditions? This holiday season, I'd love to bake cookies, watch movies, nap, and hang out with my husband and kitties (they are my nuclear family, after all). I'd love to have a casual, intimate lunch or dinner with my grandmas or parents or whomever, but I get the feeling it's easier on everyone to just do the big gathering and not have a bunch of smaller engagements. Lots of birds, one stone, basically (though most years, for this anxiety-prone girl, it feels like 'lots of birds, lots of stones').

I think much of the stress we feel over the holidays is in response to a bunch of "shoulds" and a sense of multiple obligations, combined with a social expectation of what's "normal" or conventional. There are all kinds of way to enjoy the holidays (or any time of year, really). I just think it takes a lot of courage (for me, at least) to say, "This is what I want."

How do you celebrate the holidays?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. This baked potato waiting to be eaten.
2. 3-day work week means tomorrow is "Friday"!
3. It also means a long weekend :)
4. Driving to the desert on Thanksgiving. Lawrence and I love car time.
5. A day trip to Julian on Friday. I'm looking forward to hiking and pie.

Alanis Morissette, recovered?

While browsing the news online, I saw a headline that said, "Alanis Morissette had an eating disorder." I clicked. Duh. I'm always interested in life details of people who use the past tense when discussing their struggles. I expect to find little nuggets of wisdom in their words. With this article, I was very disappointed. Here are some highlights:

What Alanis says about her eating disorder: "As a teen, I was both anorexic and bulimic... I was a young woman in the public eye, on the receiving end of a lot of attention, and I was trying to protect myself from men who were using their power in ways I was too young to know how to handle." She goes on to say, "Disappointment, sadness and pain hit me hard, and I tried to numb those feelings through my relationship with food. For four to six months at a time, I would barely eat. I lived on a diet of Melba toast, carrots, and black coffee." Why do people feel the need to say what they lived on when anorexic? And why is it always coffee and a vegetable or something? I was pretty sick eating 3 times a day. Anyway...

What she says about recovery: "I began recovering at 18, when a sweet friend confronted me." Um, okay, that's it?

What she says about her new outlook on food: She has begun to look at eating as "a sort of spiritual practice." Oh, Lord, here we go. She discovered a book a few years ago called "Eat to Live" and that has changed her food and nutrition. Long sigh. She says, "It's become my bible, pushing me to completely reorient my thinking about what to put into my body... Now I concentrate on eating high-nutrient foods like fruit, nuts, collards, kale and spinach. I'm obsessed with them. I even put spinach in my smoothies." Obsessed with collards? Oh. My.

What she says about exercise: She's rediscovered her inner athlete. Note: It doesn't say in this article, but she is also training for a marathon (supposedly) in support of eating disorders. I don't even know what to say about this idea of a marathon for eating disorders. That's like having a pie-eating contest for diabetes.

Melissa at "I Hate to Weight" blogged about this as well, and I have to say I share many of her thoughts. When I read this kind of thing, I get really, really annoyed. I get judgmental about her diet, thinking, "Right on, lady, way to be a role model for those of us in recovery." I think what I crave to read in recovery stories is that someone has let go of rules about food and a notion of a "right" way to eat. Is that unrealistic? Maybe. I've met people who have recovered who do seem totally free about food, but I've met more people who still have some restrictions (I fall into this category right now). I guess what irks me is that she has the nerve to stand up and profess the wonders of her ways. If I was on a diet of spinach smoothies and fruit, I would be, like, dead (which is ironic since her "bible" is called "Eat to Live"). I wonder if my main problem here is jealousy. It bothers me that she's so damn happy, so "spiritual" about her food, so in touch with her inner athlete, so at peace (or that's how it seems). I'm not this way eating 2500-3000 calories a day; why does she get to be like this just eating kale? But, again, it's a mindset. I've come to believe that we will feel how we want to feel about our progress in recovery. If she thinks she is healthier and happier than ever, that's her perspective. I have my own. I tend to fight with myself a lot over my choices, crticizing and analyzing and finding nefarious intentions hidden behind every decision. I choose to kick and scream in recovery. Acceptance is hard for me.

What my annoyance tells me is that I still have some peace to make with myself, and my understanding of "recovery." At some point, I won't give a shit what Alanis Morissette does or thinks about "the way to recover." I'll have confidence in MY way. There was a point when I would have used this article to encourage some new restrictive lifestyle for myself, and I'm in no way motivated to do that. I'll take annoyance as a good step, on a journey toward just not caring what others think, and embracing what works for me.

Thoughts?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. It's Friday!
2. We're about to watch the "Project Runway" finale on DVR. I can't wait.
3. It's my good friend's 30th birthday today, and another good friend's 30th tomorrow :) I'm so happy to have these ladies in my life. Here's to a fourth decade...
4. I'm going to my friend's dance show on Sunday. I can't wait to see her do her thing!
5. It's actually chilly in California this week.

To exercise, or not to exercise

When I developed anorexia, it was pure food restriction. No funny business with exercise. But, over the years, I've dabbled with obsessive (not really excessive) routines, usually involving walking and yoga. Ironically enough, the walking started because I found myself telling concerned loved ones that the reason I was losing so much weight in college was because I was walking all over campus (which I wasn't). This, of course, was complete bullshit. In any case, I must have planted a seed in my own head because I started to actually walk all over campus, convinced I needed to move at a relatively fast pace for at least a half hour a day. Also ironic, I started yoga while in treatment for my eating disorder. It was all fine and dandy at first -- soft music, gentle stretching, lots of "om." My intentions were good. I really loved it. It reminded me of the discipline of gymnastics, which I did until I got way too scared and way too tall. I started taking one yoga class a week. Then, somehow, I started doing it a few times a week on my own, then every day, like clockwork. It was because I enjoyed it so much, at first; but, as happens with me and most things, it became a "have to," a "should," a "must."

In the last several years, I've done weird things like crammed in mandatory walks on lunch breaks (circling corporate lakes multiple times, or walking through business parks that don't have sidewalks, or going up and back parking lots, leaping over hedges between buildings like a retired track star reliving her glory days). I've gotten up really early to "fit in" yoga. I've shoved this routine into vacations. Looking at the activities themselves, I suppose there's nothing "wrong" with this, but it's always sort of bothered me. I've been much calmer about things for the past year or so. I've stopped my exercise obligations on weekends. I consider that absolutely free time, which is a huge accomplishment for me. If Larry and I happen to take a walk (more of a stroll at our pace), that's good, but it's not something I force. And that feels good. But, what about the rest of the week?

When I started working again, I had a burst of energy. I was excited. I woke up early on my first day and decided, with a shrug, that I'd go for a walk, maybe do some yoga, "if I had time." Well, I did have time, so I did some yoga before getting in the shower. It was fun. Naturally (well, naturally for me anyway), I started to set my alarm to accommodate the same schedule as that first day and, here I am, wondering if I'm getting myself in another one of my ruts.

Here's the thing: I'm aware of my pleasure-to-obligation ratio. About 70% of the reason I walk and do yoga is for enjoyment. I love listening to my iPod. I love the morning air, the way it wakes me up, like caffeine without the jitters. I get some of my best writing ideas when I'm walking or stretching. I love half-listening to the morning news or catching up on DVR shows while on my yoga mat. It calms me and relaxes me for the day. Plus, I like knowing that I'm giving my muscles and bones some love. My weight is stable, I don't feel rundown, etc, etc. BUT, what about the 30% that is obligation? Is that "bad"? Just as I'm not sure I'll ever see food as "just food," I'm not sure I'll ever see exercise as "just exercise." I analyze my intentions (maybe too much, yes?) and I get lost while trying to figure out what's "normal." Mostly, I just don't want to fall into a trap. I don't want The Routine to have any power over me. And I'm afraid it does.

My back has been bothering me since we went to Japan. Something to do with traipsing about the country with that heavy backpack. I did something weird that resulted in pain in my lower back and numbness in my big toe. Since then, I have phases when it's okay, but it's never really felt "right." In the past month, it's been stiff and sore. I don't know what I did to aggravate it, specifically, but it's not happy with me. I've taken it a lot easier, but I haven't noticed any great progress. I called upon my friend Logic and told myself, "Ok, Kim, just take off a couple weeks. Completely. It's just two weeks. Remember the big picture." I went to bed and set my alarm later than usual. Then, before I went to sleep, I re-set it at the early time so I'd be able to take a walk and stretch. That's when I thought, "Ok, is this a problem or what?"

When I really stop to think about it, I believe my little routine is part of some magic formula that keeps my body in check. I'm scared of abandoning the routine and testing the magic. I could, conceivably, do this routine for the rest of my life, but do I WANT to? And, why not take a break just for the hell of it? That Eleanor Roosevelt quote comes to mind:

"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face."

After all, I did just say I'm scared. Also, this quote helped me make peace with pizza way back when, so it's a keeper.

What do I think will happen without my routine? Do I think I'll get soft and squishy? Do I think I'll lose all motivation with everything in my life, forever? Do I think I'll never exercise again? These are all possibilities, being the black and white thinker that I am. Most of all though, I think I'm afraid to realize that I've built this silly house of cards, mistakenly believing my rituals give some sort of structure and foundation to my life...when, really, a life is built by much more than a walking loop and some sun salutations.

I'd love to know your thoughts on exercise in recovery:

• Is it necessarily unhealthy to have a daily routine?
• If you've attempted to change things up, what's worked for you?
• What's your pleasure-to-obligation ratio?
• What do you consider a healthy attitude toward exercise?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. I've had a handful of people ask me for recipes when I mention cooking on this blog, so I'm considering doing a Recipe of the Week(ish...some weeks I'm more creative than others). I think it could be fun :)
2. Hump day is just about over.
3. I'm having fun editing my friend's memoir for her. I actually enjoy editing.
4. Work is getting busier, which makes me feel more secure and needed.
5. NBC TV tomorrow! It's the little things :) A friend of a friend is going to be on "The Office" so that should be cool.

The fine art of compromising

Let me start by saying that when it comes to the fine art of almost anything, I am a bit clueless. I am especially clueless about the fine art of...art. I consider myself a pretty smart, cultured person, but put me in an art museum and I'll play a game called Get Through the Exhibit in Less Than 15 Minutes. I know, it's bad. It's just that I don't always "get" art. I can tell what I like and what I don't like, but I don't pick up on theme, symbolism, or artist's intention/motivation very well. I have to read those little plaques under the piece in order to have any idea what's going on. Yesterday, I realized there's another fine art I struggle with -- the fine art of compromsing.

***

I went to my massage appointment yesterday afternoon. In case you don't remember, my massage therapist claims to be psychic. As I lay on the table, I thought, "Hmm, what should I talk about?" I have a love-hate relationship with chit-chat in that I hate to be the recipient of it, but I love to instigate it if the alternative is awkward silence while a lady is rubbing my mostly-naked body. So, I thought I'd ask her about her commute from L.A. since she just moved up there. Before I said a word, she said, "My commute isn't as bad as I thought." Weird. I decided I'd ask how her dogs are adjusting. Again, before I said a word, she said, "My dogs are liking it up there." Weird, again.

Then, THEN, she spits out, "So, you got a new car!"

This, THIS, is the weirdest of all because not three hours earlier, we did get a new car.

She said, "But, it's not blue like I thought it'd be. It's gray."

Say what?

It is gray.

***

Larry and I have had a bit of a car dilemma for a while. The dilemma was this: I have a 10-year-old Accord that is falling apart (quite literally --the knobs have taken to just falling off, the automatic locks don't work at all). He has a big truck that gets something like 2 miles per gallon (I may be exaggerating a bit here, but I may not be). He likes to be The Driver in our relationship. He refuses to drive the falling-apart Accord, so we drive the truck. For a long time, I was in denial about how bad this was for the environment and for our wallets. Around the time I decided to go vegetarian, I read a lot about oil consumption in this country and figured it'd be good to cut down however we can. I also started tracking our finances and was appalled to see that we were spending about $300/month on gas (and this was when I was working at home, and his commute is, oh, 7 miles).

So, I wanted to get a new car. The problem is that we don't have the same priorities with cars...at all. I'm a simple girl (well, except for all that emotional crap). It's not just that I could live without extravagance -- it's that I really don't like it. Larry, like most humans, does. He has "Million Dollar Yachts" on DVR, for instance. I describe our philosophies like this: Larry is very "live for today," and I'm very, "let's just try not living much at all and see what happens." What we did agree on was leasing, mostly because we want to stay up to date with the latest technology. Larry wanted a luxury car with relatively-good gas mileage; I wanted a hybrid with excellent gas mileage. We went through all the paperwork for a Prius, but leasing it turned out to be ridiculously expensive (mostly because Toyota knows the technolgy will get better with hybrids and, after the lease is up, nobody is going to want a used hybrid with antiquated technology. This is frustrating because they certainly don't make it attractive to support hybrids. They kind of shoot themselves in the foot/tire. But, anyway). Larry said, "Well, for that amount, we could get the Lexus." I believe I rolled my eyes and sighed deeply.

The next day, we went to the Lexus dealership. I got 12 hours of sleep and I was feeling sort of deliriously Zen and happy. I thought, "It's just a car. Compromise, Kim, compromise." But, actually doing it -- compromising -- was not easy or pleasant. I was a total pill while we were at the dealership -- arms crossed over my chest, bored look on my face. Despite the 12 hours of rest, I almost fell asleep in the back seat when the salesman was explaining the navigation features. I'm not kidding. Three hours of paperwork and waiting later, we drove home in a Lexus. It's pretty. I'll give it that, but I just feel so uncomfortable in it. I think it's "too nice" for me. It feels like too much. I mean, I was still playing mixed tapes in the cassette deck of my Accord, and I was totally content with that. I just don't know if such a nice car suits me, and that got me thinking about self-perception.

I'm reading a book called "Facing 30" (about turning the big 3-0), given to me by a good friend (who turns 30 herself in a few days -- happy birthday, my dear! You know who you are). I didn't think it'd be very relevant to me since I really don't have any issue with turning 30. I was happy to say goodbye to my twenties. My twenties were rough, health-wise and otherwise. But, the book does touch on how we see ourselves at different points in our lives, and how it can be jarring when we move into a new phase before we think we're ready. The thing is that I still dress and talk and think like someone in her early twenties. I've been successful for all intents and purposes, and I'm proud of how far I've come, but you really wouldn't know that based on how I carry myself. I just don't know if I've embraced "Grown Up Kim." I still own a pair of Pumas and have a tube of Clearasil.

Sometimes I wonder if the lag is because my life was somewhat on hold for several years while I was in the depths of anorexia. There's no real reason I can't be comfortable in a nice car. It seems like it's more an issue of feeling undeserving or unworthy of good things in life. I'm used to being very conservative, frugal and restrictive. Larry is not this way, and I both love and hate that about him. I mostly love it because if I was with someone like me, we would have the most uncelebratory, boring existence known to man. That's the thing I struggle with -- celebrating life, splurging now and then, enjoying nice things (in addition to letting go of old habits and cassette tapes). I always have myself on lockdown, skimping even when it's not necessary. I don't really let myself grow and take up all the space I deserve.

I am happy about the new car. The gas mileage is three times better than the truck. That's what I really wanted -- better gas mileage. It's a compromise, yes, and I'm having a hard time accepting that I don't get my non-luxurious way. I don't want to drive the car, for example. I have this weird aversion to it. I do enjoy the heated seats though, and the fact that I can set the passenger temperature however I want. Oh, and there's this cool lumbar support thing in the seat. It seems the one thing I've accepted about getting older is my back problems.

Question for you: How do you see yourself? Is it congruent with where you are in your life?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. I'm very full of the Mexican casserole I made for dinner. De-lic-ious.
2. I've been entrusted with reading my friend's memoir for her and I love it so far.
3. Work week #2 is starting just fine :)
4. I'm thisclose to taking a full-fledged break from any and all walking/stretching/whatever. My back just isn't feeling better, despite "taking it easy." Must I take it easier? Sheesh.
5. Bed time.

Pigeon-holed

I had a mini revelation the other day: I've pigeon-holed myself. I think of this blog as "an eating disorder blog." Lately, anorexia does not feel like a big part of my life, so I don't write. I still have thoughts, but they don't have much to do with food or the myriad personality traits that have caused my food to be screwy, so I don't automatically think of them as "right" for this blog. But, the thing is that I like writing here. This blog is about "adventures in wanting," and wanting, like recovery, has to do with way more than just what I'm eating. Wanting, and recovery, has to do with relationships, work, play -- anything, really. So, I'm back.

I started my new job this past week. I'm hyperaware of my distaste for change, so I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little concerned about the new schedule, working just a toddler's stone's throw from my husband, etc. But, it's been great so far. I was hired as a Senior Copywriter, but I'll also be helping with metrics reporting and html, which means I look at stuff like this:

I love, love, love learning new things, so I'm excited to do some basic programming (plus, I think knowing html will help me when my text wraps in a weird way on this blog). Also, Larry is a programmer, so I feel like I've entered his world just a bit. He gets to teach me during the day, so that's fun (and kind of turns me on when it doesn't annoy me). I think his evil plan is to get me to do his bitch work. Ya, that's what I think. Seriously though, it's been great to work together. We run errands on lunch breaks (to free up time on the weekend). I took him to Banana Republic with me (and my 30% off coupon) today, feeling like I was dragging the poor boy. Of course, I left with nothing and he bought jeans and shirts that took him, oh, 10 minutes to find, try on and purchase. Men. Anyway, my favorite lunch-time errand this week was PetSmart, where we got another cat tree for our kitties. What can I say? We feel bad leaving them alone all day. So, this is what our dining room looks like. I don't think you'd want to dine here, would you?

Is this embarrassing? Are we weird "cat people"? I don't even know anymore, and that's what scares me. (Oh, and can you spot the pink dog toy? Ya, if you're wondering, that is the free gift they give you with purchase at Victoria's Secret. The cats love it).

With the commuting together, we're thinking of getting a hybrid, or at least a car that gets relatively good gas mileage. Larry's truck gets like 9 miles per gallon. I hate that we drive it everywhere. I don't really care about car appearance, but Larry does. We may go test driving this weekend. We'll see. Does anyone have a hybrid, or have any info to share?

Anyway, back to the job. There are less than 10 people in the office on a daily basis. Working for a small company is definitely more "me." Big corporations, with name badges and dress codes and timesheets and rules about what you can keep in the communal fridge, freak me out a bit. I've freelanced for this company for a couple years now, so I know everyone. It's comfortable already -- well, for the most part; something is very off with the ergonomics of the work station (aka, I'm getting old and my back gets tweaked if I do anything besides lie horizontally all day). I got my box of green tea at Target yesterday. I have my warm jacket on hand because someone seems to like the office at 68 degrees. It's good. Really good.

As much as I'd like to be someone who is free-spirited, I need structure. I need to work. I take to it like a fish to water. Give me projects and assignments, please. I feel incomplete without them. Sitting at home, doing nothing, is very bad for me. When I was idle, my OCD traits were getting a little out of hand. I was making all kinds of unnecessary lists in my day planner, creating an illusion of structure and schedule. I was fixating on details that weren't that important (like organizing my DVR), mostly because I didn't have anything else to occupy me. Now, I look at my day planner a couple times a day, and I am much calmer about my omnipresent "to-do" list. If a bill comes, I don't have to pay it right away. I realize most things can wait. I'm way more lax about my exercise routine, too. I've been getting up early in the morning and I look at taking a walk and doing some yoga as a "get to" instead of a "have to," which is a big change for me. Also, I've been more than okay with catching up on DVR shows instead of actually doing yoga ;) I'm trying to take it easy on my back, after all. My point is that working is good for me, and I'm happy to be back at it. I once read the book "How to be Idle" and found myself confused by Chapter 2. This kind of book is not for me. Strangely, I'm more productive and creative with my fiction writing when I'm busy than when I'm idle, with a whole day ahead of me with nothing to do. I don't know why this is, but I finished my draft of "Cherry Blossoms" (working title) and I have an idea for a new book already. I've learned that I have an ability to find hours in the day when I want them. I work 9-6, but I feel much less frazzled now than when I wasn't working. And I still sleep at least 7 hours a night (mostly restful, unless the cats get crazy).

As for food, it's been good. My appetite's been a little less lively than normal, but I'm chalking it up to "the change" (meaning starting work, not menopause). The vegetarianism is going well. Honestly, I haven't even had to put much effort into it. I didn't eat much meat before, so it wasn't a drastic step for me to take. I definitely don't feel like not eating meat is imposing a restriction on myself; more like it frees me up to explore more non-meat choices. My sister reacted funny when I told her I don't eat meat anymore, but I think that's because everyone in my family assumes that anything to do with food is a red flag with me. I don't blame them, but this feels like a healthy choice and I'm happy with it. I just don't feel like I have much troubling me lately, in general. I feel calm, confident in myself. I don't know when I'll get to see my therapist. It would have to be on a lunch break, and I can't really take 2-hour lunches...yet. I'm not too worried about it since I feel good, but I'm aware that it's good for me to check in as a maintenance thing.

That's all -- just a regular life going on over here, complete with cats sleeping on husband.

I can't complain.

***

Today's gratitude:

1. I finished Stephen King's "On Writing," which was way, way more inspiring than I expected. I'm going to write up a little summary/review for my column at my good friend's writing site: http://writersinnerjourney.com/.

2. I'm thinking maybe I'll bake cookies this weekend. Pancakes sound good too. The work week gives new meaning to weekend breakfasts. I'm sick of oatmeal and cereal.

3. I'm excited for this weekend, in general. Working makes me appreciate it more. I have lots of things I get to (not have to) do -- start reading a new book, watch "The Brothers Bloom" on Netflix, get some errands done, jot down some new story ideas, clean and do laundry, catch up on DVR.

4. Oh, and I have a massage scheduled for Sunday. Perfect :)

5. "Project Runway." Why is this show so captivating? (I'm rooting for Carol Hannah).

Going vegetarian.

A long time ago, I wrote a post titled "Going vegetarian?" -- with that question mark of insecurity and unease. I've taken away the question mark and put in a period.

I've been reluctant to broadcast this decision in any way in my "real life," but I thought it would be good to discuss here. I'm aware that any time I make a change in my eating, I have to be hyper aware of my intentions. After all, my anorexia started as an attempt to "just eat less fat." I get really obsessed, really fast. So, making this change in my diet doesn't come without a lot of thought. I really didn't eat much meat anyway, but I still think I have to be careful when I make an absolute decision like this. I think I'm doing it for healthy reasons though, and I'm more interested in talking to other people who are vegetarian and are recovering/recovered from an eating disorder. While I think "food is just food," meaning it's nothing to stress about, I also think we can have preferences or beliefs driving the food we choose. Yes, being vegetarian means I have to put a bit more thought into my food (mostly when I go out). Is it possible for someone like me to think about food without obsessing about it? I think so, but I'm curious to hear from others who have chosen to be vegetarian.

A few things about my decision:

-I've never been morally or ethically opposed to eating meat.

-I'm still not morally or ethically opposed to eating meat. I do believe that many animals exist to feed us (for example, chickens as a species would die off if we did not breed them for consumption). So, while it's bad for the individual chicken to have its throat slit, it's actually good for the species. I get that. I also get that humans are made to eat meat. Our teeth and jaws were built to eat plants and meat. Our stomachs produce an enzyme to break down protein found solely in meat. Our bodies require things like vitamin B12 which come mostly from animals. I would never say that I don't think we're "meant" to eat meat, or that eating meat is archaic. It's not. I wish people paid more respect to the animal that died to feed them, but I don't think it's my calling to be a hippie on a soapbox.

-What I am morally and ethically opposed to is the way animals are treated in our food industry.
Even if chickens are bred to feed us, that doesn't mean they have to stand around in their own shit, or be pumped with so many hormones (to give us more of the white meat we love) that they can't even hold their weight well enough to stand up.

The problem as I see it is that there aren't many traditional farms left; there are factories. We're all about efficiency. Part of that efficiency means mass producing one thing -- corn. The government subsidizes this, so farmers do it, and the industry finds weird ways to use the mass amounts -- as sweetener in the form of high fructose corn syrup, or as feed. Cows are herbivores, designed to eat grass, but we make them eat corn because we have it, and because it fattens them up faster. I've read that we're even teaching fish to eat corn. Fish?!

Maybe I'm species-ist, but thinking about a chicken or turkey or fish being killed doesn't make me emotional in the way that thinking about a pig or cow being slaughtered does. Maybe I'm just a wuss, associating those larger, furrier animals with the domestic ones we love. I don't know. In an ideal world, I would still eat poultry, but from locally-raised, humanely-treated birds. This isn't totally realistic in my daily life so, I'd say I'm 99% vegetarian as an alternative. I don't really think it's about the meat, as much as it's about the industry.

There are environmental reasons for my decision, too. A great deal of fossil fuel goes into the meat industry. It takes something like 75 gallons of oil to bring a cow to slaughter. I know that any agriculture involves oil and, unless I grow my own food (which I'm not about to do), there are transportation costs (from the farm/factory to the store to me). But eating low on the food chain uses much less energy. I think that's a good thing. If I can afford it, I'll buy organic because I think the less land doused in chemicals, the better. Also, organic farmers don't spread fertilizers made from natural gas or spray pesticides made from petroleum. I'll probably pay more attention to buying local produce, and buying what's in season (because I really don't need some tomatoes flown all the way from Chile). I didn't realize I was this passionate about this, but I am. I do believe that any time I buy something at the store, I'm expressing what I expect from the food industry. This is one area where I think consumers do have the power to enact change.

As I read this, I'm worried I come across too overzealous, like someone with spiked hair, weird piercings, a petition on a clipboard, and a huge chip on my shoulder. I'm most interested in hearing your thoughts about diet restrictions (for whatever reason) when in recovery from an eating disorder. Do you think recovery has to mean being completely non-discriminating about food?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. I'm just about finished with the first-ish draft (it's more like Version 1.5) of my Japan book.
2. I start work on Tuesday! I can't wait to go back to some structure. I'm sure I'll have bad days when I'll miss just hanging at home, but I'm going to do my best to see that the grass isn't just green on the other side; it's green wherever I am.
3. I'm reading at an Open Mic in Laguna Beach on Sunday, and in a showcase in San Diego on Tuesday (www.dimestories.org).
4. Free time this weekend :)
5. Larry. I love him.