Good Old Fashioned Retail Therapy

Last week, I finished reading Why We Get Fat And What To Do About It by Gary Taubes. It's an interesting read. In the end, the solution was a high protein, low carb - extremely low carb - approach with a focus on what we call healthy carbs as opposed to processed carbs. I found myself wondering...

...if I follow this diet will I be healthier? Healthier than what? How healthy was I going to be? If I follow this diet will I live longer? Longer than what? How long was I going to live? If I follow this diet will I weigh less? Less than what? How much was I going to weigh? So much of life is a balancing act.

There are no definitive answers to these questions so I find myself thinking yes, based on what I know, I'm willing to accept that a low carb approach could be a healthy choice however, I'm not willing to live on salad and a piece of meat so that I'll live longer and be thinner than two unknown numbers. Perhaps, I'd rather give a few years and ten pounds to fuller taste and more living in the now. Do you know what I mean?




In a few months, I'm turning forty-nine and yet I've found myself thinking about turning fifty a lot lately. I try to imagine what life will be like at fifty, what I want it to be like, and whether that will be possible. I'm having trouble imagining.

When I turned forty, life bloomed shiny bright, filled with potential. As I approach fifty, life has dulled as if I'm in a tremendous rut with edges so high I can't see over the sides to find my way out. It's as if the practical approach necessary to life - the balancing of spending with earning, wants with needs - and the putting of others first, as mothers and wives do, has drained the light. I know some of this feeling has to do with the ending of my career and the closing of my business with what was a practical, bottom line, decision. Working at Fabricland does not substitute for that type of creativity.

In a few months, I will have been married for thirty years. I've been a parent for twenty-five. I've been the wife of a husband with compromised health for fifteen. My youngest son graduates in June. He's very uncertain what he wants to do and there is much tension as he struggles with that decision. When he talks about taking a year off, about having no plan, it sends me into a panic. I wonder when will it be my turn. Pragmatism is wearing thin. Is this typical mother?




Yesterday, I went shopping, indulging in some good old fashioned retail therapy. I bought a dozen of these lime green glasses, which were relatively, though not exorbitantly, expensive. We didn't need them. We already had more than enough glasses. I wanted them. I bought them and moved others out to put these on the shelf. How pretty they are. One of my sons will need those other glasses when they move out. I'll save them.




My living room is driving me crazy. It's huge and yet because of the size and proportions of my furniture, I can't move it around. The same furniture has been sitting in the same position for seven years now along with the same nick nacks on the same surfaces looking exactly the same. Not only is that enough to make me scream...

... we have a check couch and a floral chair, very country feeling from a completely different era of me. They no longer match who I am. If you understand what I mean by that statement, isn't it a strange feeling - that your house doesn't seem to reflect the real you any more?

Part of me wants to drive as quickly as possible to the nearest furniture store and buy a room full of unique and intriguing furniture. The practical part of me knows that isn't financially possible and couldn't be for a really long time. The in a rut part wonders when and if ever and how will I deal with never? In light of the tragedies in the world, this seems so self centered and inconsequential and yet it's a real and drowning feeling that has to be dealt with. I bought a new throw for the couch. It's a tiny stop gap.




A scary thing for me is how disinclined I am to sew. It's temporary - or at least previous experiences with disinclination lead me to believe it will be temporary. Yesterday, I tried on a whole bunch of high end, heavily discounted, clothing at a store downtown and walked away from it all for one flaw or another because I could do better myself. I just don't feel like it right now.

This stack of fabric on my counter is my from trip in February. It's sitting there because there's no room in the closet for it. I don't feel good about that. I feel somewhat guilty and like I need to give the closet a good clean. Doesn't that word just make you cringe - clean.

Outside, the snow is melting, the grass is visible, there are signs of spring. I find myself thinking about the need to wash the windows, and put another coat of paint on the doors, and clear the garden, and plant the flower pots, and weed, and water, and maintain, and I'm not that thrilled with the idea of spring. When I talked to my friend yesterday, she was feeling the exact same way. Aren't the cycles of life interesting? Twenty years ago, we'd have been ecstatic at the potential and now we see only the work.

SO... now that I've dumped and whined... is this normal for this stage of life? Have you experienced it? What advice do you have?

Talk soon - Myrna

Grateful - ebb and flow