On the Mend

My knee is almost better. Ya know, being the doctor that I am, I can say that. Okay, so maybe it's not almost better -- but it feels almost better. I'm going to up my time, but not my intensity, on the elliptical tonight. We'll see how that goes.

* * *

Chris -- many have expressed disappointment that I didn't write more about my Friday visit. I guess without getting graphic and writing erotica, there wasn't much to say. It felt rushed, because he had to leave for reserve duty. And while our timing with each other is better, it's still not the same when we were seeing each other more often, for longer periods of time. I need a good solid three hours from him, at least -- lord knows he has the stamina -- before I can bring in a definitive verdict.

I also think that there is some reserved emotion between us. Perhaps because we live so close to each other now, that it would be so easy -- too easy -- to fall back into old habits. Habits that led me to heart-ache -- and I think, though he would never admit it, him to it, as well.

He has taken my constructive criticism about not kissing enough to heart, and more than makes up for that now. And though this isn't a real relationship with any future beyond sex, I was proud that I demanded more of him, that I wasn't go to settle for something I didn't want. I wouldn't let him make me feel bad about the encounter, which is what happened when we first got together after he came home from Iraq. He didn't kiss enough -- it felt programmed, it felt mechanical. That, thankfully, has been rectified.

Rip Torn

Just back from the doctor (I may need to steal from Grey's Anatomy and start calling him McDreamy). He poked, he prodded, he pushed and pulled against my knee. He compared it to my other knee. And then he pronounced with authoritative certainy, "you have a slight tear in your meniscus." And being a good doctor, he pulled out a book and showed me pictures.

From knee1.com: "A meniscus is one of two half-moon shaped discs of specialized cartilage lying between the femur and tibia with more secure attachment to the tibia. The two menisci (lateral, or outside, and medial, or inside), serve several functions. These functions include: adding in joint lubrication, articular cartilage nutrition, stability and distribution of forces between the femur and tibia. The meniscus may be injured when the knee is bent or twisted while bearing weight. Meniscal injury or degeneration can also be a result of overuse over time. For example, repetitive squatting or kneeling can cause meniscal wear and make it more likely to tear."

He said the good news is that this is a pretty good self-healing injury -- if I allow it to heal. No cutting to the chase for me: "Can I still work out?"

He raised an eyebrow and asked me to describe my regular workout, if I was 100%. Then he asked me to tell him what I've been doing the past week. And then we compromised. Instead of an hour on the elliptical, I can only do 30 minutes. No weights, no squats, no bike, no treadmill. And "if it hurts, stop. It's common sense, but for some reason I feel like I need to tell you that."

Everyone loves a smart ass.

So I need to take it easy. I need to let my body heal. And if it's not better in a couple weeks, then I should take a break. Completely. Stop. If it doesn't heal on its own, then the next step would be physical therapy.

So there is good news and bad news. Obviously the bad news is that I'm injured. But rather than going on the DL, my status will be day-to-day. The good news, I can still work out. I can continue what I started without losing momentum.

For today, the eye of the tiger is still there.

Happy birthday, Babe Ruth

So one year ago, I made my commitment to myself. I was slightly disappointed when I got on the scale this morning and the grand total for the year was only 35.5, which means I'm still up 2.5 from the holidays. All in all, I know that it's great. It's as much as a small child weighs. But after how hard I've been working the past two weeks, I was hoping for closer to 40, if not over.

And speaking of how hard I've been working...my knee is killing me! I finally broke down and called the doctor (my local doctor, not the Perv) and I'm seeing him tomorrow. It's still swollen, it still aches and its hard to walk up stairs. When I was shaving in the shower just now, it hurt to lift my leg up -- the muscles and tendons around my knee cap felt strained at that movement.

None of this, however, prevented me from going to the gym tonight. I did 45 minutes on the elliptical and then abs. I will not NOT go to the gym. We'll need to figure this all out with a plan that not only heals me, but also keeps me sweating each night.

(Wow, what great segues)...so speaking of sweating, Chris came to visit on Friday. It was fine. It was fun -- I was glad I wasn't going back to work (I hate feeling rushed). There's no emotional attachment this time around (which is good), but....there's no emotional attachment. When he left, it just reinforced what I don't have. What I want. And while I can win any argument and rationalize why having him in my life, right now, this way, is okay -- I so want more. And not from him. But from some other him.

TGIF!!

AND I'm taking a half day! Of course, I'm bringing work home with me -- I'm not sure how that doesn't cancel each other out, but it doesn't.

So I'm thinking the treadmill might have been making things worse with my knee. I worked out on the elliptical last night for almost an hour, and even though there is still a twinge, my knee feels at least 50% better today (and no creepy doctor dreams last night). So no treadmill tonight -- just elliptical -- but I think I can do other stuff too.

Chris is coming down for lunch today on his way to reserve duty : ) I'll just leave it at that.

No big plans for the weekend. I'm taking my "little" to see Hoodwinked tomorrow, and then usual Saturday errands -- groceries, bank, shopping, etc. And then Super Sunday -- here's hoping the Bus can close his career with a Lombardi trophy.

Dr. Pervert

It was all about the treadmill last night, nothing above 3.8 mph. I did ab work but my trainer wouldn't let me do push-ups (I do them from my knees) or some other stuff that she said would put a strain on my knees. So treadmill tonight and tomorrow, maybe the elliptical tomorrow. Maybe. A rest over the weekend, and then we'll kick it back up a slight notch on Monday.

I wore my brace when I got out of the shower for about three hours last night, and then slept with a pillow between my knees, to keep my knee caps from knocking against each other. And then proceeded to have the strangest dream about my former orthopedic surgeon. The same orthopedic surgeon who has known my family almost my entire life, who performed both reconstructive knee surgeries on me when I was in high school, who took care of me when I got hurt in college -- and the same guy who, despite all of the above, visited me when I lived in Rochester, pushed me against the wall and decided that it was appropriate to kiss me. With his tongue.

So we'll call him Dr. R -- since that time, I have had as little to do with him as possible. Occasionally my mother will say that she saw him and he asked about me (I bet he did). He'll ask for my phone number so he can see how I'm doing. And my mother, being clueless to the whole situation, gives it to him. Thank god I now have caller ID. He called before the anniversary party -- he knew that I would be in town and that my older sister would also be flying in from California. (Apparently, they had a two-consenting-adults fling 20 years ago or so.) I ignored the call. He didn't leave a voice mail, but called several times within an hour.

That was the last I had heard from him or even thought of him, but of course now that my knee is an issue, I imagine that I would think of him. It makes sense. So my dream...

I knew that I shouldn't be going to see him, he had practically molested me, (besides the fact that I lived in an entirely other city and should be going to my own very sweet doctor) but it was a dream and sometimes things don't make sense in a dream. So I went to see him. I explained that my knee had been hurting, I pointed out where it was sometimes swollen, just below the side of the knee cap. I told him how often I'd been wearing my knee brace and that I'd become an Advil popper again. He looked at me knee, and as doctors will do, he touched it, poked and prodded. Then his hand went from my knee, up my thigh. I woke up at the point, kind of skeeved out but not surprised.

He was the first adult I trusted who completely betrayed that trust. I should have known it wouldn't have been any different in a dream.

Oh my achin' knees

My right knee hurts. A lot. And not in a good way. I think it felt like this when I was on my running kick. I'm not sure what I've done in the past week or so that overdid it. Maybe working out on a step. Either way, it hurts when I walk up the stairs at work, so much so that I wish I had my brace on. I even took 800 mg ibuprofin last night before bed. I may need to sleep with my brace on tonight.

So I took it easy last night -- nothing strenuous. Thirty-five minutes on the elliptical and 25 on the treadmill, and then ab work on the floor. No weights, no squats, no lunges. I think it's going to have to be more of the same tonight. I don't want to go on the DL -- because I truly have just found the "eye of the tiger" (I'm sorry -- I'm a child of the 80s) and am pumped about working out all the time. I don't want to lose my momentum.

My trainer will be at the gym tonight -- so hopefully she can give me some no-impact things to do for a while.

More Updates

My muscles ache. But the pain is good. I'll accept it. Pain is good. Shaking is good. It means your muscles are working. I get to weigh myself in six days. That better be good. I will say, that I have found my confidence level higher. I talk to more people, more strangers. Not like crazy woman, but I engage in more eye contact, I chat with more people at the gym. And I actually bought sweatpants that fit me this weekend. I'm not hiding behind baggy clothes (okay, so my t-shirt drawer needs a make-over). It's all good.

* * *

Chris is coming for lunch this week. I know, I know. We'll just leave it at that. At this point, I'm in control of the situation and my emotions. At this point. He makes me feel good, he fills a void, even if its temporary. And the fact that he has sucked me in before -- I know the signs, I know how he operates -- and I can protect myself, I will protect myself.

* * *

I made a decision about B (yes, the B sage continues). And it will seem trivial to all probably, but to me, it is symbolic and empowering. I'm not making cookies for him anymore. (okay, everyone laugh and giggle together). Seriously, he's the type of person who makes it so easy for people to want to cater to him, to take care of him, he'll even give some emotional attachment back, but he'll only go so far. Last week, he got a promotion. And I thought, I should make him cookies this weekend. Then he worked incredibly hard on the new website designs, putting in 15-hour days. Again, cookies seemed the obvious choice.

And then I had a shower moment, because I sometimes I really do my best thinking in the shower. He doesn't deserve the time and care that I would take to make him cookies. He's jerked me around, he's crossed the line, he hasn't followed through, whatever -- however you want to classify it. It's too easy for me to take care of men like this and settle for nothing in return. And I need to stop doing it.

And so while I may make cookies to bring into work for a group meeting, I will no longer be making B his own batch, his own care package, his favorite kind. In fact, I might purposedly not make snickerdoodles for work, ever again.

Random Thoughts

I haven't weighed myself yet. It's been hard. How do I know if I'm doing well? How do I know if I'm losing weight? I've become so dependent on that number as a justification, as reinforcement -- that I'm feeling lost without it. And of course, the practical side of my brain is saying that this is exactly why I shouldn't weigh myself. Still....it's hard.

* * *

Do we really need two weeks between the end of the playoffs and the Super Bowl? All the excitement of last weekend's games have diminished, and now we have get the hype started all over again as all the media arrives in Detroit today.

Yes, it's nice to have the season get us that much closer to Spring Training, but with two weeks off, I'm almost over football at this point.

(more later)

You Were Always on my Mind

I love the commercial -- and I don't even know what product is being advertised -- where the women are walking through all sorts of daily life routines and a scale is chained to them, and Willie Nelson is singing in the background.

The scale is a funny thing (just as the mind was yesterday). I'm terrified of it -- and yet, I love it and can totally become obsessed with it. When I'm doing well in my eating and exercising, when I feel like I'm "on," I want to weigh myself all the time. It has become normal for me to weigh myself twice a day -- in the morning and when I get home from the gym at night. It was something I looked forward to, something that I would rely upon to guage my mood. Triumph! Euphoria! Success!

And then I hit the skids. The anniversary party -- and beer with my family. Thanksgiving -- and way too much good food and dessert. The holiday season in general -- and more good food and Christmas cookies. Virginia for a week -- out of my routine. And so 9.5 pounds later, I struggled to get back on track. I made a galliant effort after the first of the year, but by not having my gym open yet, it didn't feel right. I didn't have it in me.

And then this past weekend, I hit the bottom. Eating uncontrollably, even when I wasn't hungry. Food can become my addiction, my drug of choice. I know that. I have to remember how awful I felt on Sunday -- and never want to feel like that again.

I've had a really good week of eating normal and healthy. And I don't feel deprived. I've a great week of work-outs -- added lots of diversity into my ab work and cardio, and can feel it in my body. I certainly can attest to the "pain is good" mantra. And I so wanted to weigh myself this week. So many times. Tuesday night. Wednesday morning. Wednesday night . . . and on and on.

But I made a deal with my trainer. I'm not weighing myself until February 6. That was the day I started all of this last year. It seemed like a good day to remember -- it was Super Bowl Sunday. It is also Babe Ruth's birthday. For that reason, way more than the Super Bowl, it is a date I will always remember. So February 6th -- she wants me to wait. She wants me to stop obsessing over the scale, over the numbers. If I don't have the numbers to rely on, I'll use my other senses to know how I'm doing. How do my clothes feel? How do I look in the mirror?

I did cheat once this week. I needed to know that I didn't completely blow it all last weekend. But it was quick -- and more of a ballpark figure. I don't even remember the number -- I just needed to know the range. I think I did that Tuesday morning.

So no scale until next Monday. I made a promise -- and I've also made a note. On my scale, covering the numbers window, I have a post-it, that simply reads: "Is today February 6th? Then step off, bitch!"

Hopefully, each morning, I will get the message.

The Mind is a Funny Thing

The other day, I felt blah. I felt tired, like I wanted to sleep for several days. And I felt out of control. I couldn't stop myself from eating everything in sight, and knew I was in trouble when I busted open the bag of chocolate chips.

I don't know if it helped to confess this out of control feeling, that I was unmotivated, that I binged -- alot -- but for whatever reason, it did. I told my closest friends at work. And I told my trainer on Monday at the gym. She said we'd work at it Wednesday night when she was in. Tuesday, she e-mailed me and said that her volleyball practice got canceled and she'd work out with me that night. Ninety minutes later -- of gruelling cardio, weights and abs -- and I have my motivation back.

Yesterday, my body ached. It was sore -- every muscle. Today, even more so. But all in a good way. Last night, I was getting some frozen veggies out of the freezer and saw the half-eaten bag of chocolate chips. If my mind was in the same place it was just two days earlier, I would have dumped the whole thing in my mouth, without even thinking. Last night, I barely noticed they were there.

What is it? What is that trigger that seems to shut itself off and on? I can see how easily an eating disorder could get out of control, how that rational part of you understands that what you're doing isn't right, but there's nothing you can do to stop it or yourself.

The Mid-Winter Blues

I haven't written in a while -- I heard it from my niece tonight. Though even if she hadn't commented, certainly I knew that I hadn't written in a while. And it's been weighing on my mind. Not only that I haven't, but that I felt I had nothing to write about.

I went to visit my high school friend yesterday -- she's got a two year old and is pregnant with twins -- and then up to Syracuse to spend the night at my niece's. All around me I see it -- what I don't have. And then I came home to feel completely over-whelmed by work. And not the fact that I brought work home with me, but that I still don't feel that instinct I think I should have. All of this spirals into this over-whelming feeling, this feeling that this is it. This is my life, for better or worse. This is why I get up in the morning, this is why I go to work.

My eating has also been out of control the past few days, maybe even the past week, off and on. I need to get that "thing" back, that motivation, that willpower that I used to have. I could so easily gain back the nearly 40 pounds that I've lost in the last year. And I can't.

I actually found myself eating today, just for the sake of it. Because something sounded good. Even after I was bordering on feeling satisfied/full, I munched on pretzels and baked chips. Thank god, I don't keep "true" junk food in my house, though the bag of chocolate chips in the freezer has gotten smaller.

So how do I get it back? How do I feel in control of eating and exercise? How do I feel comfortable at my job? And how do I get that feeling back that it's all worth it, that it's all moving me forward, moving toward something bigger and better?

city streets, city scapes
water flowing
leaves blowing
children laughing
strangers talking
lovers kissing
who's crying
someone's dying

Miscellaneous Updates

I had a meeting on campus with someone who is very involved in the community, and I told her about my recent job interview. First, she was mortified that I didn't get offered the job.

"How much more experience were they hoping you would have?!"

My thought exactly, but...oh well.

Then she said, "You would have been miserable there. I know so many people who are trying to flee. Its going to be a mass exodus there in the next few months. You would have been going to a parallel universe of bosses -- hands-off and micro-managing at the same time."

So, everything really does happen for a reason, I guess. I'm glad I didn't know any of this before the interview -- and I really don't think she would have told me -- but it certainly helps to cushion the blow of not getting the offer for the position.

* * *

I'm going to Baltimore in May, to help out at a charity event that I used to help organize. They wanted me to go back for it last year, but they asked me too late. So this year, I'm planning on it. Lots of old friends, lots of athletes -- some of which are both to me.

It's my gym motivation for now, knowing that I will be seeing people that I haven't seen since June 2004. That was a lot of pounds and a lot of body fat ago.

Century Club

Inspired by Just Thinking from a few months back, here is my list of 100 things about me:

1. I am the youngest of eight.
2. There are five girls and three boys in my family.
3. In the nieces and nephews generation, there are also five girls and three boys.
4. I get along with all but one of my siblings.
5. Ironically, the one that I don't get along with now, we used to be very close.
6. Sometimes I feel like an outsider in my family.
7. I have a tattoo -- Mickey Mouse wearing a Yankees hat.
8. When I graguated from college in 1993, I weighed 252 pounds.
9. Thankfully, I no longer weigh 252 pounds.
10. I am afraid that I'll never get married.
11. I'm even more afraid that I'll never have a child.
12. My fears and insecurities are directly related to my self-perception and weight issues.
13. At various points in my life, I've tried to be bulimic.
14. It never worked.
15. I've wondered about suicide as an option.
16. It never was.
17. My favorite color is blue.
18. I like to think of myself as a "pink" person, though.
19. I hate red on me.
20. I hate my hips.
21. I love my waist -- and I have a great rack.
22. I have red hair.
23. It's my favorite feature on me.
24. My hair is naturally curly.
25. I use a straightening iron on it almost every day.
26. I never wanted a career growing up.
27. I wanted to be a housewife.
28. I would like to start by my own business as an event planner.
29. I'm neurotically organized.
30. I live by lists -- personally and professionally.
31. I like logic puzzles.
32. I watch way too much TV.
33. I can't wait for baseball season to start.
34. I'm concerned about the Yankees starting pitching.
35. I love to read fiction.
36. I'm not a big fan of non-fiction.
37. I've met lots of professional athletes, current and former.
38. I was only nervous with Yogi Berra and Vin Scully.
39. Though I had the chance, I never wanted to meet Derek Jeter.
40. I had an 18-month fling a former professional football player.
41. He is 20 years older than me.
42. I still miss him sometimes.
43. I think bald (or balding) men are incredibly sexy.
44. My football player had a great head of thick hair.
45. I prefer silver or platinum over gold.
46. I have a right-hand diamond ring.
47. It is white gold.
48. It belonged to my father's aunt, from her marriage in the 1920s.
49. I believe in love at first sight.
50. It hasn't happened to me yet.
51. I've been in love twice.
52. Both times, my heart was broken.
53. Pink roses are my favorite flower.
54. I also like lilies a lot.
55. Casey is my first cat.
56. Her full name is Casey Ruth Jeter.
57. I always had at least one dog growing up.
58. I am afraid of the water.
59. I love scary movies and roller coasters.
60. I'd like to have twins.
61. But only in a marriage.
62. If I do the single mom thing, I already have names picked out.
63. I have insomnia.
64. Most nights, I am awake for two or three hours.
65. Sometimes I wake up and never go back to sleep.
66. My mother had a nervous breakdown 10 years ago.
67. I was once treated for depression.
68. The doctor wanted to put me on medication.
69. I refused.
70. My second greatest fear -- to turn into my mother.
71. My father was 40 when I was born.
72. I am afraid he will die before I get married.
73. In college, I had a recurring dream that I was getting married.
74. But I never saw the groom in my dream.
75. I haven't had that dream in at least 10 years.
76. I wish I had kept in touch with more high school friends.
77. My graduating class has never had a high school reunion.
78. When we get closer to 20 years (2008), I will probably volunteer to organize it.
79. I'd like to get back into writing.
80. I'd like to publish a novel or book of short stories.
81. A lot of my stories have a similar theme or thread -- wronged woman, cheating man.
82. Where some women have a "dork magnet," I have a "married man magnet."
83. Having known many men who shouldn't be trusted, I wonder if I will ever completely trust one.
84. I don't consider this cynical -- just realistic.
85. In the e-mail age, I still send birthday cards and handwritten thank you notes.
86. I am in the best health of my life right now.
87. Growing up and in my teens and 20s, I was annually sick (mostly bronchitis) at the beginning and end of winter.
88. I haven't been sick in almost two years.
89. I hope that 40 really is the new 30.
90. I try to go to Cooperstown at least once a year.
91. As much as I've been to Cooperstown, I've never been to any of the other museums -- just the Hall of Fame.
92. I would like to run some sort of business in Cooperstown.
93. It could be a coffee shop/bookstore or a bed and breakfast.
94. I would also like to serve on the board at the Hall of Fame.
95. I eat m&m's one color at a time.
96. I do the same thing with Necco wafers.
97. I prefer peanut to plain m&m's -- and I throw away the black Necco's.
98. I would hate to again live in a city without a Wegmans.
99. I think I shop too much.
100. I would rather buy things for other people than for myself.

IC, I Stay

I called on the job this morning. I asked B yesterday if he had heard anything, him being one of my references. He had been out Tuesday and Wednesday, so I was hoping that he had a message on his voice mail. He didn't. So I called.

"Hello Ellie...how are you this fine day?"

"Fine, Fred, thanks. Happy new year."

"You, too."

"I was calling to follow-up and see where things stand with public relations position."

"Well, we made an offer to another person and that offer has been accepted. You should be receiving a letter today -- I sent it out yesterday."

Deep breath. Don't cry. With a smile, "oh, okay, thanks."

"I will tell you that it came down to you and this other person and it was a really difficult decision. You were our second choice."

Keep smiling. "Thank you, that's nice to hear."

And then there was some thanking for the time I spent pulling all my shit together, blah blah, take care, blah.

And so there it is. The PR Goddess was so close to a comeback. I'm bummed about it. Disappointed. A lot, in fact. But not as much as I thought I might be. Knowing that the salary range might have been an issue, I'm grateful that I get to keep to my current budget. I'm not sure what would have been worse -- not getting the job or getting the job and having to reject their offer because of salary. And I do get to keep going to my gym on campus, and have my free personal trainer.

And so look at me, being a positive glass half full kind of person. So maybe I do only get my hips from my mother -- and not her penchant for negativity.

Resolutions

Inspired by my niece, who had some pretty good resolutions -- not only do-able but enriching, here are mine for 2006:

* continue to work out and get healthier, another 40 pounds by the end of the year
* get out more -- even if its just to Barnes & Noble or happy hour
* find a church in Ithaca -- and go to mass at least twice a month
* continue to pay off the credit cards & make extra car payments
* be in touch more with my "regional" friends
* do more writing -- not just here, but some creative writing

Thank God it's Not Really Monday

It was so hard to get out of bed this morning. Too hard.

I mean really...after almost two weeks of sleeping, not until noon like my niece, but past 8 am each day made it especially difficult when the alarm went off at 6:20 this morning. Having no motivation to come into work didn't make it any easier.

I managed to get through the morning by catching up with people at work and re-doing my "to do" list, helping me adjust back to the rat race. I've gotten a few things done and set myself up to work on two really big projects tomorrow. And now, it's almost time for an end-of-day meeting. I honestly didn't think that I would make it through the day.

Bubbles has a job interview tomorrow -- good luck!

I promise my life will get more interesting and I'll stop bitching soon -- I just need to be crabby for one more day.

On the bright side, tomorrow is hump day, (to quote Brother Wease) "and later, we will."

My Mother's Family

When my mom was younger, sometime in her teenage years, she found out that the man she thought of as her father, was not. The man who treated her unkindly, the father who didn't love her enough, was merely her step-father. Years of mental abuse suddenly made sense. But there were questions. Questions that went unanswered. My grandmother told my mother that her father was dead, he died when she was three years old. My mother had the name of a dead man and nothing else. She escaped that household and immediately began her own. One husband, eight children and eight grandchildren later, my mother wanted answers to the questions that none of us knew still tormented her.

With no help from my grandmother, my parents went to the library and searched the archives of city records and census papers. She found her father's name, along with the name of his mother, sister and brother. Were they still alive? Did they even live in town? She questioned my grandmother one more time and was inadvertently told that the sister lived very near. In a blind fury of emotions and tears, my mother opened the telephone book to what should have been her maiden name. She found the sister's phone number and dialed.

My mom was lucky. Uncovering a family, after 58 years, can be risky. It's like finding a name at random and owing them birthday cards and Christmas newsletters for eternity. In her rash moment of finding her aunt's name in the phone book, my mother didn't have time to think of the consequences. She didn't have time to think about the possibility of being disappointed.

And luckily for her, she wasn't. Her aunt and uncle knew the moment they saw her that my mom was "one of them." They came bearing stories and photos. And their non-bitterness helped my mother deal with the fact that this family had been hidden from her for this long. That her father didn't die until she was nine years old. That her grandmother didn't die until after I, the youngest child, was born.

Uncle Henry and Aunt Marion brought stories of my grandfather. Stories from when he was little, causing mischief. Stories from his adulthood, his many jobs, his marriage, and his subsequent death. When I first visited them, it was still new to all of us. Stories of my "new" grandfather dominated the conversation. Mentioning a relative's name brought confusion and a needed lesson in the family tree.

But something strange happened the next time I was in town and visited with them. My grandfather began to fade from the conversation. It was as though, having brought us all together, he could now step away. It was as if, almost 50 years after his death, he had played his role of ghostly matchmaker successfully. Up until recently, I had been thinking of these people as my mother's relatives, because she needed them the most. Suddenly, out of nowhere, they became mine.

Originally published in Maryland Woman Magazine, March 2000
In memory of Marion Dombrowski, June 2, 1919 - December 28, 2005

The Week in Review

Merry Christmas.
Happy Channukah.
Happy Kwanzaa.
Happy New Year.

The diet.
I've heard that the average American gains 10 pounds between Thanksgivng and New Year's. I'm not quite the average American -- but I came within a pound or two of it. Since my parents' anniversary party in mid-November and this morning when I finally got the guts to get on a scale, I've gained nine pounds. Fat and happy time is over. Tomorrow (not Sunday) begins the new year.

I've never liked starting new things on the 1st of the year -- or a Monday for that matter. So it's either wait until Tuesday or just bite the bullet and start tomorrow. Given the numbers on the scale, I vote tomorrow.

The job.
Still no word on the job. The neurotic part of me (even though I promised myself that I wouldn't freak out if I didn't get a call) is starting to think that I didn't get it and he just didn't want to ruin my holiday so he's waiting until next week to tell me. The practical side is telling me that he couldn't have possibly made reference checks around the holiday -- I know that all three of my references would have been tough to get a hold of the last week. And I heard from B before I left for Virginia last Wednesday that he hadn't gotten a call yet.

I'm starting to dread going back to word on Tuesday. I just don't want to. I'm thinking of this project and that project and just have no motivation for them. I've got three days to think of something else and then can psyche myself up to go back to work. I guess.

The other Ellie.
He was the sweetest man to put on a Baltimore Orioles uniform. And I heard two weeks ago from my former boss that the Orioles were treating him like shit. That they had taken his position of bullpen coach away from him, citing health reasons, without talking to him or his doctors. And now they weren't returning his calls. Elrod Hendricks wore that uniform longer than anyone -- first as a player, including as a member of the 1970 championship team; then as a coach -- and Flanagan, Perlozzo and "Uncle" Pete weren't returning his calls.

Maybe they were right to relieve him of his coaching duties -- but they could have gone about it better. He deserved better. Last week -- just a few days before Christmas, he died of a heart attack. Sweet Elrod, who always had a smile and wave from the field for me, who always have a hug, a kiss and a "hey baby girl" for me when I saw him. I'll miss his laugh. And I'll miss him telling me that I was too good for Sidney, "that fool."

Christmas in Virignia.
Lots of eating, lots of resting (did you read the first paragraph of this post?!), and lots of fun. I arrived a day early, surprised Tiffany at Panera. We shopped, we ate, we went to the movies. We never got out of our pajamas on Christmas day. And I didn't want to leave. And more than once, thought about turning around as I was headed north to Baltimore.

Aunt Marion.
My mother's aunt passed away on Wednesday morning, after a lot of health issues and a recent minor stroke. She was 86, never married and only came into our life in the past 10 years. (I'll post something specific I have about that.) I'm sorry that I didn't get up to Syracuse to see her before I left for Virginia, though I hear that I wouldn't have wanted to see her that weak.

I'll remember her as feisty, as a "ball breaker." I'll remember her yelling at my mother for eating too much cheese cake and telling me that I was getting up there in years and needed to stop looking for love and just find someone for security. I was sorting through a bag of pictures from the anniversary party (yes, I know it was six weeks ago!) and found a picture of her -- round and healthy looking, no oxygen tank. That's how I'll remember her.

Swing and a miss. Strike 2.
I stopped in Baltimore on Wednesday night. I had dinner with my god-daughter and her family, exchanged presents with them. It was too short, but it's so hard to try to fit everyone so I have to economize my time. After dinner, I spent the night with Bubbles in her spankin' new apartment. She got me sucked into "Project Runway," and I immediately set my DVR to record all new episodes when I returned to Ithaca. And because Elrod's memorial service was Thursday morning -- and J used to work for the Orioles -- I didn't get to see J.

De-Christmasing.
I got home about 1:30 yesterday afternoon and immediately after unpacking my car (three baskets of clean laundry, and more Wal-Mart, Target and Kohl's bags than I care to count), I started to de-Christmas my house. Exactly four hours later, I was putting the vacuum cleaner away. Tree, ornaments, bins, candles, etc...all packed away for another year. I'm not sure how I accumulate all of this stuff -- it may have something to do with my love for shopping the day after Christmas. And this year was no different. Between the two of us, my sister-in-law and I spent about $600 before noon on the 26th. I got lots of birthday presents done and started Christmas for next year.

The big finish.
Yesterday I packed away Christmas. Tonight, after getting back from the funeral in Syracuse, I unpacked all the big buys on the 26th -- sorted them, made lists and packed them away. I still need to put away my clothes, some of my Christmas presents and sort through my Christmas wrapping paper. But in the words of Katie Scarlett O'Hara, "tomorrow is another day."

Men

Chris called me last week to see if he could come for a visit this week. I told him I was busy, how about January 2nd? I don't have to work that day and it would be more convenient. He seemed put off a little, but I'm enjoying this new sudden control in our relationship. January 2nd it would be.

He called today to see if I had heard anything from the job (nothing yet) and to say that he has a client meeting on the 2nd, what else works for me that week. I looked at my calendar and we set a date for the following week.

And then there's J. We were to have lunch on Thursday on my way through Baltimore, but we had to cancel that. I figured he would be in New Jersey still next week with his family, but mentioned anyway that I would be back in Baltimore next Wednesday night and leaving on Thursday.

We'll be having a late breakfast on Thursday (sorry Bubbles...I know we planned to eat before you went to work). And so suddenly the possibilities and scenarios are running through my head as to why he seems so eager to see me. Is he separated? Did he kick the evil-never-wanting-to-have-children wife to the curb? Has he decided that he can't deny that "thing" between us? That "thing" that is real, but never acted upon.

Something tells me that I'll be eating a bagel with him at the Panera, or a nice greasy breakfast at the Double T, and then that will be that. A nice friendly catch-up. Nothing more.

I'm too tired to try to analyze any of this, to create some sort of generic, it could apply to most single women thing.