I’ve always attributed my lack of attention to detail to being so highly intelligent and creative that my mind is running so fast I can’t keep up. A gift, a talent, a sign of brilliance, if you may. This has been my entire 65 years of life, so it’s obviously not a result of aging.

Uh-huh.

Yup, I’ve had two things happen to me in the last two days that are making me doubt myself.

Yesterday I was at Costco. It was New Year’s Eve, and it was a bit crowded. I, of course, grabbed more things than I intended (side note: has anyone ever gone into Costco and just bought the one item they went in for??) and ended up in the checkout lane.

I knew I had a $100 bill that I wanted to use, so I grabbed it and laid it down first, then pulled out two $20 bills. I wasn’t paying attention (refer back to the first paragraph) and out of the corner of my eye saw the cashier hold the bill up to the light and run the forgery pen over it.

She then grabbed my 20s, stopped, and said, “Where did the $100 bill go?” — while laying a $10 bill over my twenties.

I said, “I gave it to you, and I saw you check it.” She agreed but couldn’t find it in her drawer. Her manager came over. They pulled everything apart looking for it. I checked my wallet and pockets numerous times. I knew I had laid it down first because I wanted to get rid of it, and I had no clue where the $10 even came from.

The manager said it was their mistake, I paid the difference, and left.

About an hour later, I got a call from the manager and I asked what the cameras showed.

Well… shit.

I had given her a $10, and we both thought it was a $100. I had some comfort in knowing that my delusion was shared with her, but still — WTF? I’m going in tomorrow to pay the $100 and see the tape. The nice manager assured me that things like this happen all the time.

Ugh. The bigger question now is: where did I spend that $100 and not remember doing it?

Today, I was pouring candles for presents for friends I haven’t seen yet for the holidays. I was in my groove, listening to music, enjoying myself. I walked over to the big warmer to pour into the next two pitchers. It was empty, and for a moment I questioned whether I’d added more wax or not.

Then I looked down.

White. Everywhere.

My right foot started sliding, fast. I realized I hadn’t closed the spigot on the warmer the last time I got wax out. I had four pounds of wax all over my floor. I was also sliding into the splits — something this body hasn’t done since maybe junior high.

I dropped the pitchers and grabbed the counter to stop myself from falling. Molly Mae came running over because I was expressing myself quite loudly, in very colorful language. Of course, she stepped in the wax and ran directly into my legs.

I gave up and landed on my ass. I cried for a minute because I was so frustrated… and then I laughed. I mean, come on. How did I forget to close the spigot??

Obviously, none of this proves anything negative about me. It just proves that Costco and candle wax are dangerous environments for highly intelligent people. However, I might be forced to consider that my ‘brilliant, fast-moving mind’ may just be a polite way of saying I don’t always know what I’m doing.

Nah. That can’t be it.
I’d remember if it were.

And no I don’t have a new boyfriend. I’ve found a strong unconditional love – again.

Last year was a tough year. I lost my brother-in-law, and two sisters in two months. Then I lost my long-time BFF big silly dog Reuben James, in July. Too much loss way too fast.

When the Rube died, I said I was done with dogs. I have four cats and love them very much (and yes I am a single cat lady but not childless :). They are enough. Losing the Rube ripped my heart out.

Then we had the Dog Days of Summer event at work three weeks later. Meet Molly Mae O’Grady.

I was screwed. This little puff ball of fur crawled into my lap and into my heart. I told my friend Tricia, who had brought Molly and her brother in for adoption, that I hated her. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t go home every day to let her out – it’s a 35 mile drive one-way- so my boss Rachael told me to bring her to work with me. Yup, I was screwed.

Jump ahead a year. I no longer hate Tricia (it was short-lived and I didn’t really mean it) and Molly does come to work most days – after a few hours of doggy daycare.

I’ve had many wonderful adventures with her (although getting a puppy is nuts when you’re old, want to sleep at night, and like all of your toes and fingers being attached and not attacked), we’ve done lots of training classes and she is a proud AKC Canine Good Citizen graduate. She still gets a little nervous around strangers and prefers she approach you first – when she feels like it. She is a girl after all. She is a joy to my soul and I’m so glad I got her.

However – she is too damn smart. Molly is half Golden Retriever and half German Shepard. Her Golden side is loveable, smiles easily, and is very fun. Her Shepard side is wicked smart. She can now open doors – and lock them.

It started at the cottage a couple weeks ago. I was on the back porch talking to my neighbor Rob and had left Molly inside. She jumped on the door and opened it. I have those door handles that you push down rather than turn. I said “OK smart girl” and put her back inside. A few minutes later when I tried to go in, the door was locked. She had somehow flipped the deadbolt. I asked her to open it – somehow I thought she would. She didn’t but sat and smiled at me. Luckily all four of my locks are keyed the same and I have a super secret hiding place for my extra key. I was able to go back in.

Jump to last week at work. I don’t have a crate in my office anymore. Molly doesn’t need it. My office has the same kind of door handles and she started opening the door and wandering out if I wasn’t paying attention or had left her in the office. I was just stepping out for a minute and told her to stay. She did. She locked the door on me.

There is no deadbolt on the door, but a door handle lock. I have no clue how she locked it. But we also have no key for the door. I have a large window and could see her and told her to open the door. She smiled. She didn’t open the door. I panicked.

Finally, one of the sales guys, Braydon, tried opening it with a credit card. As he started on it, Molly calmly jumped up and opened the door for him. Smartass dog.

So what are the lessons to be learned here? Some dogs (and people) are much smarter than you think. Some dogs (and people) are just smartasses and know when they are making you go crazy. And some dogs (and people) enjoy the look of fear and panic on your face before they say “just kidding!”.

Now whenever I go outside without her, I must doublelock both doors. Then when I come back in I praise her for not trying to get out and give her a lot of treats, hugs, and kisses.

Wait a minute. She is a smartass but I think I just figured out who the dumbass is in this relationship.

Well, shit.

Hey! Yup, I’ve been gone a long time. Lots and lots of life changes. Some great, some ok, and some very difficult. BUT, the point is, that’s life and you roll with the punches (that is actually an awful analogy if you think about it) but I’ve missed writing and most of all the praise from my followers! I need more validation so here I am!

So, let’s face it. The world is kind of depressing lately. Politics – and I’m not going there because it’s too divisive – this damn heat – seriously I’m straightening up my act, Hell will be awful – and a general sense of unease is permeating through most people. I decided to do a tiny thing to brighten up people’s day. Bring a little smile, a sliver of joy, a momentary feeling of connection.

I put two different stickers on my back car window.

The first one is easy to love. Here it is (and yes, I know I should have cleaned my window first):

Simple, sweet, and come on, who doesn’t love a dog? Well, obviously a mean and horrible person if they don’t love dogs (no offense to anyone reading this if you don’t love dogs. Let’s just pretend you do for a minute.) At the vet, a woman was taking a picture of it and wanted to know where I got it. As I said, just to make you smile as you think about your dog.

And here’s the second one. I thought it was kind and sent positive energy.

I was at Costco getting gas. As I was mindlessly watching my total approach $50 (yikes, I remember when I paid .56 a gallon and thought it was a lot!) a man behind me said something. I wasn’t paying attention. I finally looked at him and realized he was talking to me. Here’s how our exchange went:

Me: “I’m sorry, I missed what you said. Can I help you?”

Grumpy Guy: “I said what is that supposed to mean?”

Me, totally clueless: “What is what supposed to mean?

Grumpy Guy: “That thing on your window? Are you trying to be smart? It’s dumb.”

Me, now feeling confused, wondering if I’m dressed, dreaming, or just discombobulated: “My sticker? It’s just about a dog.”

Grumpy Guy: “No that snowflaky one about something good happening to you today.”

Me, thinking WTF: “Uh, I was just trying to be nice.”

Grumpy Guy: “Well I think it’s stupid.”

Me, thinking this guy is an ass: “Well I wanted to buy the Fuck You one but they were all sold out.”

Grumpy Guy, looking stunned: “Now that’s funny” and laughed hilariously.

We got back in our cars and went on our way.

So the moral of the story is this: Sometimes your good intentions don’t work the way you think. I thought wishing something good to happen for someone would be a positive action. And for Grumpy Guy it was. He got to whine and complain about something and feel superior to this snowflake. I probably made his day.

And I got to tell him fuck you.

Yup, it gave my day a little sunshine.

I haven’t blogged in almost a year. I didn’t feel like talking or find much of anything really funny. I know I’m not alone in feeling lost the last year. 2020 was the year that pulled me way back to old issues that I had to work through again. Ugh.

Don’t you hate the word “issues”? I mean we all have them, most of us are aware of them, some of us work through them – and over and over. One of mine is that as I get down, I tend to isolate more and get depressed. Yup, that was 2020. Oh and did I mention emotional eating? Check. Did that one too. Sleep? Optional. Good energy? That would require any energy at all. Giving a shit about much of anything? Nope.

The isolation got to me. I was so blessed to have good friends/neighbors Kim and Rob in my bubble, my buddies at work and my Dream Group zooming every Wednesday night. I talked to my daughter Amelia on the phone a lot. I had my crew of cats and Reuben, the big silly dog with me. But I missed human touch. OK, don’t get in the gutter – at this moment I’m talking about hugs, handshakes, etc. The other would be whole different blog.

I went to get my colonoscopy in July (excuse the interruption. Get a colonoscopy. It can save your life. It did mine. OK, PSA over) and when the nurse took my arm to put in the IV, I started to cry. It was the first time anyone had touched me in four months. She held my hand and talked to me. I told her I knew my doc, who was standing behind me, was going to be touching me in a few minutes but that was a whole other thing. We laughed but at that moment I realized how much touch meant to me.

The only thing that saved me from falling to the bottom of depression was my grandson. Mr. Perfect was born in January 2020 so I thought the year was going to be perfect just like him. My son Alex and his wife Brittany don’t want his name or face on social media and I support that. But just imagine the most perfect little boy you’ve ever seen and then up the game another notch. He does look a little like me so that gives you an idea of how beautiful he is. Alex and mostly Brittany, FaceTimed with me every single day. And they have been doing that for the last 15 months. I know Mr. Perfect and he knows me. It is the highlight of many of my days.

I isolated at home in the summer for 10 days and then drove down to Atlanta to see them. It was a long trip (suggestion. If you’re going to drive 11.5 hours, stop at least once to go to the bathroom. I didn’t. Never again) but so worth it. I got to hold, snuggle and play with Mr. Perfect. And I did it two more times over the year. I honestly don’t know how far I would have gone down that rabbit hole if not for Mr. Perfect, and Alex and Brittany making sure I could see him every day.

I realize so many people lost so much more than me. They lost loved ones, their jobs, homes and security. I’m fortunate that our office stayed open and frankly marketing became even more important during those tough times. My family and friends are all healthy and my little cottage on the pond is my little piece of peace. I am grateful and give thanks every day. I also make sure to send white light of protection for those who have lost so much and are struggling.

So what’s my point with all of this? I guess I wanted to share that sometimes everything just totally sucks, and little by little, it gets better. Many people think I’m so positive because I do try to have fun, make a joke and really listen to people. I am also really good at faking it when I’m having trouble getting myself up. 2020 rocked all of us.

But here comes the sun. I’m feeling positive, happy, grateful and loving my life again. I really do feel that I’ve learned life is short and I’m tired of waiting for all the whens – when I lose weight, when I have a shit ton of money in the bank, when I look like I’m 40 again, when all the world lines up to say damn Jan, you’re the best. If I didn’t learn this lesson over the last year, then it really was a wasted year. I’m open to possibilities, taking risks (let’s not get crazy – no hot air ballooning or rock climbing. or God forbid roller blading. Think writing that book I’ve had in my head or taking a circuit training class) and letting go of fear.

I’m looking forward to laughing more, bumming less and being myself again. My next blog will be much funnier. I promise. Maybe I’ll blog on the other subject of missing touch. . .

There hasn’t been much to laugh about the last few months. I was so bummed during April and May. I love my furry crew but not even touching another person was really difficult. I’m a hugger.

Added to that, not being able to see my grandson Mr. Perfect was really dragging me down. Our daily Facetimes are great but I missed holding him. I know we’ve all been going through this together but it has really sucked at times.

The last couple of months, my dog Reuben was sick and then Ruth Bader Ginsburg, my 8-month-old kitten. Ruthie was so sick that we thought we were going to lose her. (seriously, this will lighten up in minute). Miraculously, she has made a stunning and incredible recovery. Having her and Reuben both healthy has made everything so much better.

Until last Thursday night.

I was watching another episode of House Hunters (I’m addicted. where do all these young couples get hundreds of thousands of dollars for their first home?!? Ours was $25K. I know, be quiet Boomer). Suddenly I heard this screeching coming from my bedroom. I thought one of the cats was hurt.

Then Ruth Bader Ginsburg walked out of the room. Actually more like crawled commando style on the floor with her butt up in the air. Her eyes were dilated and she was making the worst wailing noise. Then I realized what was wrong.

Ruthie was in heat. Ugh.

I’ve never really gone through this. When I rescued Alice Michelle, she was a much older outdoor cat. She briefly went into it for a day but it was nothing like this. I had Alice spayed and my three boys are all neutered. This was brand new territory.

I couldn’t believe such a little cat could make so much noise. And for five days in a row. My little cottage is only 720 sq.ft and the only rooms with doors are the bedroom and bathroom. Not much place to hide her or from her. I didn’t get much sleep.

I finally sat Ruthie down in the chair with me. She didn’t really want to but I wrapped her in a blanket so we could have “the talk.” I explained to her that everything that was happening to her was natural and not to be ashamed of crawling around backing up into all the cats – who just found her irritating – and Reuben – who ignored her. She was a little girl and becoming a woman now. Women have wants and needs and it’s all a beautiful thing.

I explained all about boys and that she needed to not trust tom cats. They may say they’re neutered since they have an ear tip, but that could be from fighting not surgery. And those boys will travel for miles and love her and leave her. No dinner, no romance, just wham bam and they’re off to find another. Then she’ll be left all alone to have kittens. No child support from those bad boys.

I don’t think she cared nor wanted to hear my sage advice.

We had two different boys come courting on the back porch. Now Ruthie doesn’t go outside, she is a strictly indoor cat. I have no idea how they knew she was raring to meet some boys. She heard them first and was right over at the french doors saying, “hey big boys.” I immediately put her in the bedroom and used the squirt bottle to send them running. Next time they come around they’ll find a nice cage for them to travel in as we go to Humane Ohio for some permanent birth control.

Ruthie finally returned to her normal, non-wailing, appropriate affectionate self. She is back sitting in the bathroom sink (she has a fierce obsession with water and loves faucets and even gets in the shower with me). And Ruthie will go see her favorite vet Dr. Jenny in two weeks.

My little girl is a woman now. And I never want to go through that transition with a girl again. I’m too old for this shit.

I’ve had this blog in my head for quite a while. I regret that I didn’t post it sooner. Carol D. was one of my biggest supporters and commentators on my blog. For some crazy reason, Carol thought I was funny. Carol and my sister Kath were BFFs since high school. Carol died in February. I know she would have laughed at this one and made a very funny comment. I’m going to miss that. This one is for you Carol D.

Anyone who knows me will tell you I’m not the most physically coordinated person. I like to think that since I’m brilliant with such a sharp wit, my brain cells can’t handle any more. It makes me feel better about myself. And helps me forget my disastrous cheerleader tryout in 7th grade. (it was so awful. I still relive it in my dreams sometimes)

I’ve gotten in the habit the last few years of wearing long necklaces. I like them, they make me feel pretty plus I only buy really cheap ones. I also wear a cross-body purse. I like having my hands free and it’s much more convenient. Maybe not the most stylish but I do make sure to buy them in cute and trendy colors.

I was meeting my friend Erin at a small restaurant in town. She and Matt were getting married and I was doing the candles for their reception (shameless plug for Little Cottage Candles my company that makes amazing candles for sale as well as special orders for weddings). I had gotten there early. It’s a small place, more for carry-out, but it does have a few tables to eat in.

I put my coat and briefcase on the chair next to me. I started to take my cross-body off as well. This is where is gets interesting.

As I was pulling my purse off, somehow it got tangled into my long necklace. As I started pulling the strap over my head, the necklace tightened around my throat. I couldn’t figure out for a minute what was going on.

I put my purse back down on my side and looked at the strap to see what was wrong. I saw the necklace and untangled it.

Well I thought I did.

I lifted my purse back up to take it off and this time it was so tight I started to choke. The more I moved, the tighter it got. And the tighter it got, the more I panicked. And the more I panicked the more embarrassed I got.

I looked around to see if anyone saw what was happening. No one was paying attention to the panicked looking, red-faced middle aged woman who was tangled in her cross-body purse. Or maybe it’s an everyday occurrence, and it just hadn’t happened to me yet.

Regardless, I kept moving my purse to not choke myself and then I got the necklace tangled in my hair. My arms were up in the air, purse pulled out almost over my head and hair sticking out all over. Yup it was a Kodak moment.

I have no freakin’ clue how I got it off of my neck and over my head. No clue. Maybe it was just pure panic, the sweat all over my head and neck loosened it up or the Universe finally decided to quit laughing and let it go. I was grateful and immediately sat down and pretended it never happened.

So what have I learned from this? No offense to anyone who is into the whole choking during sex thing,  but Janney can’t play that game. No judgement – just realization on my part that choking is a real fear. I still wear cross-body purses and this has happened to me more times that I will admit. At least now I know to just drop, untangle and lift to get my purse off without looking like an idiot.

At least I didn’t wet my pants. That’s always a plus.

I’m the stereotype again. Still in my 50’s (just barely), single again (my ex-partner and I tried again but ended it again last year), but now only have four cats and a dog. It’s taken me awhile to get back up again. I’ve been content to stay in my little comfort bubble.

Now though, I’m coming up out of my shell. I’m feeling great physically, losing weight (which I think I’m on life #102 doing that) and – drum roll – thinking about getting out there again. Yes. Dating.

Ugh.

Dating has never been all that fun for me. When I was younger, I was insecure and tried to mold myself into what he wanted me to be. I know – crazy right? Now I’m more confident and know myself pretty damn well. I just don’t want to go through all of the work of getting to know someone and all the baggage that comes with it. And face it – some people have storage units of baggage.

At least I know mine and like to pack it a very stylish and hip set of luggage.

I’ve looked at dating sites and have a profile on Our Time – the one for people over 50. Of course I’m too cheap to pay for it so it just sits there. This is going to sound a bit conceited but man – a lot of those guys on there are old! I still think of myself as in my 40’s. Age doesn’t bother me because I really feel it’s life experience and attitude. And I don’t think I’m better than anyone but come on – how many men really love long walks and sitting by the fire? Call me cynical – which I am – but it sounds like such a line. Hell I remember being asked what my sign was when I was in the disco. It somehow feels a little familiar.

Dating also means having to get dressed up and going out. I dig living in my little cottage, coming home, walking Reuben around the pond and watching the sunset. Although that kind of sounds like a line too . . .

So why bother? I’m incredibly happy, my kids, family and friends are all doing well, I still love my job, and now that I’ve bought my little cottage, I have roots. I feel very grounded.

Sometimes though it would be nice to have the companionship and fun of a relationship. I don’t have to, but it might be a nice complement to my life.

I know myself and what I’m looking for. Being able to deal with mice is a must. Two of us screaming wouldn’t solve the issue. Must love dogs – and cats – is a hard must have. I’m a package deal. Gotta make me laugh. I’m incredibly funny – I think anyway. And it all has to be wrapped up in kindness – to me, people, animals and to life in general. It’s a tough world, and we all need to be much kinder to one another.

I’ve told a few of my friends that at this point, I’m only dating on a referral basis. That means if they know someone who might be a good fit, they can refer. However they also know they are responsible for that referral. Just like I am careful referring people for job, so must my friends follow the same rule. It all reflects back on you baby.

With that being said, I realize I’m probably going to be content with my wonderful life as is, and living this particular “life” I will continue to be happy, energized by the world around me and grateful for all that I have. And that is okay.

There is one thing. I found out this summer that I’m only one degree away from Idris Elba. I know he just got married this year but I’m sure if that friend made a referral, once he met me, it’d be all over.

And I’ll even learn to deal with the mice if he’s afraid. . .

 

 

 

 

Truer words were never spoken.

I bought my little cottage on the pond in June. I never thought I’d buy a home again but living here is truly my piece of peace. It’s just a little discouraging when that peace gets disrupted.

First of all, if you know me, you know I’m an animal lover. I rescue cats and dogs and even put the spiders inside of my cottage, gently outside. I love hearing the frogs around my pond, the geese when they come to visit and even the occasional sighting of a groundhog. It’s a mutual feeling – we both run when we see each other.

However one particular animal scares me and makes me scream. They are adorable – kind of – in pictures and I think they’ve been in every Disney cartoon.

Yup. Mice.

I’m afraid because they run so fast, pop up unexpectedly and frankly poop everywhere. It’s just rude. They must poop hundreds of times a day. I don’t even want to think about how much they pee.

So imagine my surprise when this spring I went to get my coffee cup out of the car and saw little black nuggets in the bottom of the cup. I tried not to freak out but started looking around inside the car. And there they were. Little black mouse poops all over the passenger seat and on the floor.

I did start to cry and scream. I’m not embarrassed to admit it.

I popped the hood and found evidence of my new roomies. I was so grossed out. I didn’t want to get back into the car for fear they’d jump out at me as I drove.

Long horrible story short, the great service department at Yark Nissan (shameless plug) went through my car, found their nest under the hood AND a nest inside of my car under the spare tire. I bought repellent, got the bug noise zapper things for under my hood and under the spare and used every other old wives tale solutions I could get. I did put a trap in my car and killed one. I’m sorry. My turf. You cross it, you die.

Then I cleaned. And cleaned. And cleaned.

Switch to this summer. My friends and neighbors Rob and Kim were over. I went to move my kayak and low and behold, there was a mouse nest. I saw the mouse. It didn’t really run and looked really fat. As I nudged it with my oar it started to try to get away.

Then she dropped a newborn mouse out of her as she moved. She was in labor.

I immediately wanted to help her. How awful to be giving birth, get scared and you can’t really run away. She was able to get into my fire pit which is overgrown and hasn’t been used this year. But the baby was still on the ground. Rob was able to gently pick it up with the oar and get it into the fire pit with its mom.

I worried about that momma mouse and her babies all night.

Fast forward to two weeks ago. My central AC went out. The repair person came out, said it had a blown fuse and fixed it. Then he went out to look at my heat pump.

Mice had moved in, chewed insulation but thankfully hadn’t chewed the wiring. He got the nest out, caulked any hole they might get into and I sprayed repellant on the outside. I was ready to scream at them all, chase them and lecture them about how costly their move into my heat pump had been.

Damn mice.

I thought about it later and realized that I’m very comfortable with mice and me living separately and respectful of each other’s space. They live in the outdoors and be happy and I’m good. Come near me and my car or home, and it’s all-out war.

So just like they say, location does make a difference.

You’d think with all of my cats, they’d know to move to a safer neighborhood.

Seriously, how do they?

I’ve embarked on a new passion and adventure – kayaking! I’ve always wanted to do it but have been too intimidated by my large and luscious body size (an old friend and I used to say that we were L&L – so much nicer than fat but fluffy) to even try. I was afraid if I managed to get into the kayak, I would never be able to get my belly and butt out again and I’d have to punch my legs through and walk around with it on me forever (admit it. you pictured that didn’t you?)  It would make walking, sitting and going to the bathroom difficult.

Then I saw the sit-on-top models. They are open, similar to a canoe but look way more cool and like the person in it is very athletic and hip. That was the image I had of myself in it. I’d paddle around my pond, be able to quickly navigate the length with my gun like arms and shoulders. My hair would look adorable under my snazzy little distressed looking ball cap, I’d be in my stylish swim shorts, top and water shoes. My life jacket would make me look much slimmer and I’d feel like that athletic and coordinated athlete I’ve always yearned to be.

Dreams are nice aren’t they?

Reality is a bit different. Don’t get me wrong, I love kayaking. And I do wear cute swim shorts, top, water shoes and ball cap. And my kayak is a cool citrusy lime green. I can’t say my life jacket makes me slimmer at all but I do wear it every time. It’s just I don’t quite get in and out of it as gracefully as I expected.

I watched tons of videos on how to kayak. How to get in and out. How to hold the paddle correctly. How to keep myself stable. I even practiced getting in and out of it in my living room before I bought it. Basically get down on the floor and back up. I was feeling pretty damn confident.

And then I got my kayak. I was so excited to get all of the plastic off of it and get it into the water for the first time. I expected I might have a little trouble but I had watched all the YouTube instructional videos and I had the image of myself in my head. Gracefully and athletically getting in and out of it. Like a gazelle or even a deer – not that they kayak but they move with such smoothness and have better looking legs that I do.

So my maiden voyage started out well. I plopped into it – I blamed it on the life jacket impeding my ability to gently lower into the boat. I had put the boat at the edge of my beach with just the front in the water. I scooted myself and used the paddle to get out into the water. I felt amazing. I was actually doing it! I could paddle fairly well after years of summer camp and Girl Scout canoe trips. I started paddling around, staying fairly close to the edge and loving it. I felt powerful and athletic. It was everything I wanted.

Then I had to get out of the kayak. I paddled up close to shore like I watched in countless videos. I steadied myself and put my legs over the side so I could stand up. I tried to push myself up. Nope, landed back on my butt quickly. I tried to maneuver around so I could try to get a grip on the boat. Nope, my life jacket got in the way (actually it was my belly but life jacket sounds better.) Then I sat square to the side of it with my feet over the edge in the water. I tried saying – one, two, three! – to haul myself up. I’d get a little way up and fall back into the boat. This happened over and over again. At one point I laid back in the boat begging the Universe to help me get my ass out of this f#@!*ng boat. That didn’t work either.

So I did what I did in the living room. I pushed myself over the side onto my knees in the very gravelly bottom of the pond, grabbed the kayak and pushed myself up. Just like I had to do in the living room. It ripped the hell out of my knee but I was finally out.

When I got back in the cottage and changed, I decided to Google some new terms. “How do fat girls get out of kayaks” brought up a tremendous amount of responses and a few discussion boards. I was not alone! I didn’t feel like such a loser. There were women on the boards that weighed less than I do and still had problems getting out. The number one response I read was “get someone to pull you up so you can get out.” Great idea but I live alone and while I know Reuben my dog would love to go with me, I’m not sure I could train him to pull me up. But at least I felt validated that other women have this issue too but continue to kayak and not let an extra few (or a hundred) pounds stop them.

I’ve figured out that I just go to where the water is about waist deep and flip the boat on its side. I fall out and then stand up and pull the boat in. I always get wet and then have to drain the kayak, but no more flopping back into it over and over and over. And I’m practicing squats to build more muscle and strength in my legs and core.

I’ve learned four lessons from this:

1. I can do anything I set my mind to
2. I am an athlete
3. I look adorable in a distressed ball cap, swim shorts and top
4. You can Google anything and find valuable information and sometimes validation for yourself

Maybe I’m missing a potential market opportunity here though. A “Help me I’m in a kayak and can’t get out” button to push. You wear it, push it and help arrives. It works for people when they’ve fallen and can’t get up. I’m going to have to ponder this one. . .

 

Sometimes there just aren’t enough hours in the day. And I know I’m the only one who ever feels stressed, like I’m running in place without getting anywhere and tired. You just can’t relate right? But that is not a valid excuse not to blog.

Well I’m here, still loving my life, feeling great about myself most of the time and yes, I’ve lost weight. I’m down 22.4# – I was waiting to post when I had hit 25# because I’m losing slowly but then said screw it! I’m proud, feeling great and look mahvelous at any weight! (well except first thing in the morning. I never look good with my hair all greased up, old mascara on my face and dried drool).

Oprah and I are kicking it with WW – no this isn’t an ad for them (but hey if they’d give me free membership I would do that). I really just eat healthy and have adjusted. I did promise myself that once a month I will eat ice cream and it will be from my two BFFs who’ve never let me down – Ben & Jerry. Hey I’m not dead and I love ice cream, so if I’m going to eat it, make it the best.

I’ve just got to get my ass in gear though and work out. I’ve never been an athlete although I’ve always wanted to be. I can play golf, used to play tennis, like to walk slowly – more of a ramble – but I’m really much better at head games than actual physical games. I keep thinking I’m going to change that. Yeah, that hasn’t happened yet. Just ain’t in the genes.

So that’s my next move. I feel like a klutz – which I am – and not very confident at the gym. It’s funny. I really don’t care most of the time what people think about me but the gym is different. As I’m driving I car dance and sing along and know people look at me but I think they just wish they could be that open and carefree. Or I gave them a good story for when they get to work.

I do have awful feet and a bunion that is the size of half of my foot (hey kids wearing high heels may look really cute but it will catch up to you – or at least your feet. It ain’t worth it) and even getting up off of the floor in yoga is very painful. I try to adapt but while I do have a high tolerance for pain, something about it being on my foot is much worse.

And we won’t even talk about my lack of balance.

So if anyone has a great idea of an exercise that I can do that helps me burn fat, increase my cardio and I look super cool doing it, let me know. Seriously. I need to move.

All joking aside, I have to say you guys floored me. So many women reached out to me from my last blog post and said I spoke for them, helped them and made them feel not so alone. Seriously, that was amazing. All I did was say the truth for my own freedom and I was and am so touched by your honesty with me and your trust. Thank you.

Ok, now help me get my ass moving!