Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Restarting the Organic Co-op and Planning for a New Life

718 days, 11 hours to go...

Today, I get to pick up my organic co-op food share. I've done this before, and I had stopped due to summer storms and just some sort of ennui. But they have a coordinator closer to my house (I hate, hate, hate driving), so I'm back on board.

I'm looking forward to the honeycrisp apples, cantaloupe, pluots, and strawberries, of course, and the Holland peppers (mmmm) and Bibb lettuce.  I need to find me a nice set of recipes for kohlrabi (I have no idea what this is, mind you) and Rainbow Chard and candy cane beets (look really pretty in the pic).

There's more mundane stuff, too, like broccoli, fair trade bananas (handy, as hubby has a banana-a-day habit), oranges, slicing tomatoes, shallots, and celery. We're gonna have some sort of squash. I'd rather it be spaghetti squash, then I can have a low carb "pasta" lunch and supper this week. Acorn and butternut don't do much for me, though I might consider "souping" the butternut if that turns out to be the offering. One of the fruit options will be kiwi or black plums. I adore black plums. I hate kiwi. Guess which one I'm rooting for? :)

So, yesterday, while checking on the google map where the new coordinator's house is, I felt genuinely happy to be back on board with the co-op, starting this fresh blog, getting my vision mojo going...and I head out to fill my latest thyroid med prescription from the endo --and yes, part of the reason I buffaloed up is my thyroid done died on me a couple decades ago, and yeah, I have the same thing Linda Ronstadt has, and yeah, you saw how she lost her slim, sexy, rock-hottie figure when it got her. I was already overweight to start with, so things got REAL big.

Back to me, there, happy, looking-forward. Heading to CVS.

And I can't go. It's drizzling and I have NO FRICKEN WINDSHIELD WIPERS.

Some lowlife thief ripped off my wipers. Geesh.

So, I can't drive in the rain. I have to wait until hubby gets home to get my Rx filled and then this am, new wipers. Oh, not just new wipers, a bit of repair, cause the FRICKEN LOWLIFE who took my wipers didn't just slide them out. They damaged the mechanism.

I curse them with jumbo grape-sized bleeding piles for life.

Funny thing is, I've had worse crime happen to me. I had my purse stolen (and that put me out about 2000 smackers, when all was tallied.) I grew up in a bad neighborhood. I got beat up by a would-be robber. Our apartment was burglarized various times.  I was terrorized by a rapist who, though I was spared, attacked another woman in our building. We came back from our honeymoon to find we'd had our place ransacked (and some wedding presents gone, mostly cash.)

Overall, lucky, considering where we lived.

But, somehow, this "petty" crime just got to me. I think because of the recent issues locally--policeman getting killed, a SWAT team exploding the early morning --and I mean that literally, as the house shook and woke us up at 5 am and change, due to the authorities blowing in the door of a suspected drug dealer across the alley in the back from us--lots of burglaries reported, car break-ins, a rapist on the loose (and seeing dozens of police cars with lights flashing is a startling thing).

I think this little straw just crashed it all down: We aren't safe here. The neighborhood has gone to shit. Time to move.

We may still have some nice neighbors to the left and to the right we've known for years (in one case more then 25), but little by little, the slumbering little 'hood only two blocks from the police station, the mayor, the firefighters, the community theater...has turned crime-infested and scary. The economic downturn prolly didn't help, as I notice fewer stable renters around us, and a continuing movement, in and out, which tells me these are not people who are economically stable at all. And, in some cases, really loud and rude, leaving beer bottles in the street (and sometimes things I will not name). Fighting in the hallways of their building (which I consider really totally uncivil and low class). Got an issue with your significant other or relative? Then take it inside or go to your priest or rabbi or iman or a counselor. I should not have to hear you yell at the top of your throat that your woman or your man is a shithead--whether in English, Spanish, or Creole-- thank you very much.

But it has set a fire under me to move.

I never wanted to live here, not from the start. It was for hubby's sake, really. He'd lost his ma and grandma in quick succession (one one year, one the next) and this was where he grew up and where his mom died (and later became the place MY dad died). But this is not home to me. And it's a cumbersome albatross of a property. I wanted to ditch it in '98. Then I said, okay, by 2002, we'll be out. That gives him time to grieve, adjust, etc. Well, here we are, post-boom (what a missed chance to rid ourselves of this place), and selling now is gonna be one hard chore. Not to mention the neighborhood, a pleasant and peaceful one in our dating days, is now full of LOWLIFES WHO STEAL HUBCAPS AND WIPERS AND GARDEN HOSES and do graffiti on the wall (yeah, that was nice) and have no respect at all for property of others.

I need to change my body. But I also need to change my address. While being here is convenient in some ways (within 20 mins of 2 of my 3 siblings, very near my Pilates studio, near my alma mater where I am considering returning, near the beaches, near state parks, near the best shopping mall in this whole county, maybe two counties, near a two hospitals--which with my health issues is nothing to sneeze at as being near an emergency room is absolutely essential. Still. I'm tired of feeling like we've got a burden on our backs.

I want to simplify. I want to be able to pick up and MOVE at a moment's notice if hubby gets a better job opportunity, given he's highly skilled and needs that mobility in case the big opening comes along. I want to stop being a homeowner, and I want to rent for a while. Maybe I never wanna buy again, dunno. We've been homeowners since 1983, the year we married, and I hate worrying about plumbing, roofs, painting, renovating, hurricanes.

If a hurricane comes and flattens the place I live, I want it NOT to be mine. I want to be able to say, "buh-bye, outta here".

Maybe having my wipers stolen, a small event, really, that set me back some time, aggravation, and 50 bucks, was just a nice little catalyst to make me focus on what the hell I want besides the weight thing.

Time to set down new timelines. Ones for a move. Ones for other tranformations. One for retirement.

Time is running out. It really, really is.

I dunno, something about setting the weight goal and looking at a timeline and pondering transformation--plus a small, but irritating criminal event--have gotten me to just want to up and change all sorts of things and set all sorts of goals. But it is a good thing. I've been crushed by depression for so many years (that really bad 3.5 year bout after mom died was bad, bad, but nothing like the one when my health broke and I had to quit working. I was suicidal back then.) I'm feeling hopeful and scared, but a good scared. It's the scared that realizes change is essential or might as well buy that cemetery plot right now.

Not to knock funeral pre-planning, but ya know what I mean, right?

I'm really bad at completing projects. But, hey, I got very little life left, if one is baldly truthful about it, I'm on the downhill side of the human life span, since there pretty much is bupkis of a chance of me making it over 100, ya know?

The time is now. It has ALWAYS been now, just is more now than ever.

I think this may actually be my midlife crisis. I have been mulling over my flaws, regretting so many opportunities lost, feeling anger at the issues I let get me down, feeling old, feeling vulnerable, feeling like I wasted my potential, feeling trapped in possessions, all sort of things. At the same time, I feel great happiness and satisfaction with my marriage, love the time I'm spending with siblings and their progeny, feel healthier and more energetic than 42 pounds and a few years ago, and my sex life really did take off dizzily with menopause. Woo!

So, maybe not a full-on crisis, but a midlife re-evaluation and meditation?

Whatever. I want change. All sorts of change. I have no clue where to start, so I have to figure this out. I want measurable steps to getting to A, B, and C. And I want to start RIGHT THIS MONTH. Next year this time, I want a discernibly DIFFERENT environment and pattern of life. Keeping the joyful, loving, happy, and satisfying aspects, ditching the confining, depressing, anxious, fearful, self-conscious, and self-destructive ones.

My entrapment is a lot more than just fat. It's habits, all sorts of habits, and fears. I'm neurotic. No kidding. I worry about so much it's exhausting. I think my hoarding (be it fat, books, clothes, shoes, etc) is about building a comfortable hiding place and feeling secure.

Merciful Lord, have mercy on me and help me big time to get out of these habits and fears!

I wrote more than I intended. I think I was mentally just "typing" out my ruminations and feelings, and I have to change my subject header, since this was supposed to be about the co-op. hah. Forgive my rant. I think I just needed to do that.

You out there: Be well. Eat well. EAT LESS. EAT SMARTER. Move. Drink water. Keep hope. Make something in your life better today. Love someone more today.  Just be well. Let's be better than we've been. Let's be MORE "well." :D

Okay, I got things to do and a life-ditch to dig out of...

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