Temporary Housewife

One year ago, I was in the thick of my disease. I was knee deep in the grimy pits of therapy, facing one of many medication changes, had yet to meet my full time psychiatrist, and sleeping. A lot. I wasn't eating, wasn't showering, wasn't changing out of my pajamas. I ached in my arms and legs. I cried. I got headaches and stomachaches. One year later and I'm sort of split on my recovery. On one hand, I'm doing great. Most of the above symptoms have gone away. I don't ache anymore, I don't sleep my days away, I'm holding down a job, I don't cry everyday, I shower, I eat, I get dressed. A huge part of my recovery is thanks to my support network (shout out to Dave! Respect! And my mom! Woot!), thanks to modern medicine, and thanks to my stubbornness. After everything went down, even in the absolute worst, darkest hours, I had this little thread tethering me to this world. I don't know what it was tied to (Grace? Dave? God?), but for some reas...

When you are in the moment, it is hard to imagine anything more heart wrenching than holding your child when she cries about being bullied.  What is more heart wrenching?  Knowing it is your fault. I've gone through life with my fair share of bullies.  Sometimes it was because I was flat out weird.  But most of the time it was my size.   Even when I wasn't even heavy, I considered myself fat and some of my peers agreed.  They agreed so vehemently that they decided to remind me of my size, especially during gym class.  Later in life, in my 30's, I was actually mooed at.  Seriously.  And it sucked being made fun of because of my looks. However.  One of the glorious parts of being 41 is that you just don't give a shart about what people think of you anymore.  Yes, I'm fat.  I have blue eyes, brown (going silver!) hair, and I am medically defined as being morbidly obese.  I try to remedy that diagnosis because...

It's been almost a month since I've last written on here.  Not sure if anyone has missed me, but then I approach this whole blog thing with the mindset of "write like nobody is reading".  Right?  Right!  Onward to the update! Things I've been up to: I've written two picture books and will submit one to a contest! I'm on another rewrite of my middle grade novel! I'm working with a friend to get business cards and a nifty logo for being an author! I'm working with my brother-in-law for illustrations for the book! I've solicited a temp agency for work because I'm not getting paid to write! I've gotten diddlysquat from the temp agency! I just applied to a job!  Operations Coordinator.   Why would I apply for a job?  Especially Operations Coordinator? Because I probably should get out of the house more often. The money would be cool to have. But I'll miss Grace. So about that.  My husband made an excellent analogy awhil...

Part of my PLAN (I’m using capitalization to refer to my One Year Plan) is to write 300 words per day. Here we are at almost 5 p.m. and I realize that on my very first day pledging to write 300 words, I have not written 300 words. On a new story I’m developing, I’ve written 159 words. Not. A. Lot. So I need to write 141 more words. (That was 70 words.) I’ve actually been a bit busy today, in that I was not firmly planted on my lovely couch cuddled in with the pups and kitty. The wind continues to be nasty ‘round these parts so I took G to school. After that, I spent some much needed time on the phone with my sister. After that, it was time to gussy up for therapy and a job interview with a temp agency. (146 words! Nailed it!) New therapist is actually quite nice and I think it will be a productive relationship. Job? Outlook appears promising. I’ll learn more next week when my would be interviewer returns. My would be interviewer was out due to busted pipes in her kitchen so ...

I am sitting on my couch, wrapped in a blanket on this cold, very wet February afternoon.  As I listen to the rain beat down on my house, I am contemplating my approach to life.  I am living an unbelievable opportunity right now, something that eludes many people: I'm being given a chance to pursue my dream job. Author. I do a myriad of things to help me in that endeavor.  I do research.  I write.  I read.  I work on my One Year Plan, outlining my eventual roll out of my plan to self publish because I have very little confidence that I will publish the traditional way. Yes, I'm working on self esteem in therapy, I promise. That is the trouble with dreams, though.  They have very little chance of getting off the ground if it is mired in the muck of self doubt.  Descartes said, "I think therefore I am" but my twist on such philosophy is "I think therefore maybe I am".  I can't say it.  I can't say I'm an author.  Because I'm n...

So I'm still fatigued, suffering from seasonal allergies (with one sinus stubbornly plugged). Isn't this what the Whole30 was supposed to cure? Yes... and no.  After 25 days of being on plan, I honestly feel no different than when I started.  I've lost a few pounds (down 50 now!), but I sleep the same.  I have the same amount of energy.  I still have adult acne.  My body still aches. The one thing that this exercise has taught me is that food is not the source of all my problems.  It is the source of one problem: my weight.  That's about it.  Then why am I going to continue roughly following it? I say roughly in that I am going to eat normal sausages and bacon instead of the billion dollars per pound the sugar less stuff costs.  I will use ketchup.  I will switch to normal butter instead of clarified butter.  Buy my mayo instead of trying (and failing) to make it myself.  And I will have one day off plan per week so I...

I spent the weekend away in the far away land called Chetek where Schmidts of all ages and sizes and alternate last names converge for the annual ritual of Winter Party.  Winter Party is in its' seventh year, I believe, and instead of flying 1000 miles to attend, G and I now can drive less than 300 miles and be at the front door of my parents' property out in the wilds of Barron County.  Indeed, at this time of the year, the yard does look barren with near zero (or subzero) temperatures and just a dusting of snow.  Even way up north, the snow was scarce.  Usually, we send the kiddies outside to barrel down the snow covered hill on sleds and tubes.  But there was a change of plans this year considering the yard was a frozen slip n' slide instead of a soft cushy bounty of snow.  Only the older kids were allowed to sled (much to the dismay of my own kid) out of fear of injury due to out of control speeds.  My dad put down some large amounts of hay to ke...

Therese Borchard feels like a therapist like figure in my life, although I only know her through her articles.  Today's post is brought to you by this article about self growth in the new year.  What are these 5 questions? 1. What is one thing I don't enjoy? 2. What is one thing I do enjoy? 3. What is my purpose? 4. What did I learn last year? 5. What do I want to learn? Let's tackle these questions one by one.  They require heavy lifting and I'm not quite stretched out, but I'll give it my best. What is one thing I don't enjoy? Oy.  What a loaded question.  How big or small are we talking?  Because I don't like cooked carrots or being cold.  But if I dig down a little deeper in my soul, I don't enjoy having a lack of purpose.  (side note: question 3 is going to suck)  I mean, I have purposes but I don't have The Big Purpose, something that completely satisfies my soul.  I don't think I've ever had it and that emptiness...

Dear Mother Nature, What is up with the weather?  I just talked to a friend in Colorado and I've seen northern Wisconsin on my sister's Marco Polo's and I can look out my own window. Where is the snow? I'm not a big fan of winter as I'm a perpetual popsicle.  No one uses me as a barometer for the temperature of the room.  My mom often asks, "Isn't it warm in here?  Let's open a door..." Meanwhile I'm dressed in three layers and laying under a blanket, sipping a hot decaf while shivering. That being said, if I'm going to have winter I want Winter.  It's been spring-like for weeks now and then it just dropped into the teens.  Zero white stuff.  There is something wrong with bracing winds and talking about how the air hurts your face surrounded by brown grass and shriveled leaves.  If I am going to be cold I want to see some of that winter beauty before me.  Despite the need to bring out my snow blower, I want to see snowflakes.  I...

Or was. Gary is our main floor toilet and he was pissing me off so much.  For as long as we've lived here, Gary has been intermittently running on an off.  Sometimes every hour.  Sometimes every 5 minutes.  But he ran.  He ran like his life depended on it. Many attempts were made over the last year and a half, mostly fiddling with the float level.  Yet he kept running. But not today, Gary.  Not today!  There is only so much a woman can take, listening to the sudden swoosh of water filling the tank at seemingly random times. I did it.  Researched it, then I read the tank lid (Kohler has a lovely schematic and trouble shooting guidelines right there on the toilet).  I went to the local hardware store and called up Kohler right there in the aisle to make sure I was buying the right item.  I was, went home, chiseled out the old, worn, disgusting seal and replaced it with a bright yellow new one. And that sound you hea...

So I've been rather quiet on my weight loss because, like having BP, I don't want to talk about a single topic too much.  I get tired of it and I can only surmise that anyone who reads this stuff gets a little UGH if I'm talking about it too much.  Right?  Right. This and recent posts are a result of practicing writing.  I have no idea what the word count on these posts are, but I've been reading up on how to be a better writer.  How to do that?  Reading more and getting in at least 300 words per day.  What does that mean to you?  More posts hopefully in an effort to get better.  Which means some of these are going to suck.  Lucky you! Anyway! As of this time last year, I was 45 pounds heavier.  Yep, I'm down 45 pounds.  I lost weight over the holidays, if you can believe that.  How?  I'm still working out the details, but as far as I can tell it is because I stopped hyperfocusing on weight loss.  This summ...

I am currently in the kitchen right now, pan frying bacon. And I'm going to confess something I haven't really admitted to myself until just now: I hate making bacon.  It sprays all over the place and it is reaaaaallllllyy tedious work.  I've been at it for 10 minutes now and I am not even through a quarter of a pound. "But Lori!" you say.  "Lori!  Use the oven!" EVEN WORSE.  That skin melting spatter that is on my stovetop is then transferred to a small, blazing hot space where the spatter gets cooked into smoke that my smoke detectors tell me is not good.  I mean, I love me some bacon smell but I do not care for burned bacon odor.  Even better: I'm cooking two pounds of bacon!  Because of my stupid Whole30 that I did to myself so thank you so much, Lori, for that brilliant idea, I can't eat the normal bacon because SUGAR.  So I'm doing a pound of my special rainbow starlight bacon and a pound of porky normal bacon. And I am not ...

Here is a run down of how to switch your careers, and I'll tell you this: if you follow my easy to follow plan, nothing will stand in your way! Think about what you'd like to be when you grow up.   Ballerina?  High powered executive?  World famous author?  Write it down.  Think about your options. Slow your roll, reader.  Go back to that list and cross of ballerina, high powered executive, and world famous author.  Be realistic about your dreams.  If you are 41 years old with zero dance experience, the chances of you making a living as a ballerina is exactly zilch.  Zippo.  Ain't happening.  And while becoming a high powered exec is within the realm of possibility, it isn't within the realm of probability.  Same for becoming the next J.K. Rowling.  Narrow your field and make it reasonable.   Make a plan.   Take some dance classes but keep your day job.  Be more ambitious at work and claw your way...

And also: sugar is the devil.  Let's start from the beginning.  This being brain sick is for the birds.  Do birds cry?  Didn't Prince make a song about dove's crying ?   When they cry, do they like REALLY cry, with tears and boogers coming out of their nose holes? <off to the Google> Well how about that!  They do have tear ducts!   But they do not cry.  Not like what I do on my bad days. The good news is that I had five really lovely normal days of living.  No crying, no self loathing, no gnashing of teeth and pulling of hair.  NO DRAMA.  It was wonderful.  I spent time with G and it was... almost easy to be alive.  Sure, I had my responsibilities and normal frustrations, but my reactions to such minor hardships were in proportion to said hardship.  Like on Saturday, we did Christmas cookies.  I accidentally doubled a recipe and almost lost it... but I didn't!  I was stressed and mildly ov...

Once upon a time, there was a young girl with her whole life ahead of her.  She dreamed about what she would be when she grew up.  An actress?  Writer?  Marine biologist?  And what did she become by the time she grew up? Who knows?  She is still waiting to grow up. I find myself still unemployed, still battling my illness, still leaning out the window squinting into the far distance searching for meaning in this world.  Still searching for what I'm supposed to be when I grow up.  It pains me to think of all the years I spent being something I really am not.  I should have kept the geology deal to a fervent hobby instead of a career.  While I don't wish to go back in time to change my life (because my life lead me to Gracie), I do wonder why I made the choices I made in life.  Why did I choose St. Norbert for math instead of Knox College for writing?  Why did I choose grad school instead of a lucrative entry level positi...

1. I have two posts that I've written but I never hit "Publish" because they are about my condition and they seemed like total downers.  One was even entitled "On Being A Debbie Downer". Here's the thing: I need to start working with my therapist on accepting this new reality.  It isn't going away.  Medication isn't going to fix it all.  I'm going to be a hot mess some days.  I'm going to have good days.  That's called life, amiright? 2. My therapist cancelled on me today, which I'm 99% okay with.  I've got another appt scheduled on the 26th. 3. I'm doing okay.  I'm not amazing, but I'm not in the pits.  I'm working every day to try to be better.  I read my devotionals, try to eat well, do my little meditations, try to be kind to myself, take my meds.  I need to get exercise on my schedule but it falls under the category of Impossible Task so I only get to it about once per week.  And I can't examine why ...

A friend (shout out, Andrea!) suggested a post on writer's block so I'm writing it here, trying to coax out some sort of narrative to share with y'all. But I'm blocked.  Blocked the eff UP, people.  I can barely string two sentences together and it is frustrating.  I like to write.  No, I *love* to write, but ...  but... It's It.  It as in my condition.  It robs you of the joy you find in the things that you normally would enjoy but suddenly it brings you nothing.  Like not even anguish, but just... nothing.  Well, I suppose it brings the mild frustration mentioned before, but otherwise, it's more of a ho-hum reaction. I am trying to work on a new story that has been in the making since I was a little girl and read The Hobbit for the first time.  I made up this fantastical place where I was the hero and I was tended by a gruff but loving uncle and I was a really good hunter but then my life was turned upside down when I realized I...

I've been hemming and hawing as to best describe the experience of an Alaskan Disney Cruise.  I've briefly shared my experiences with inquiring minds, but it was only brief in that it's hard to find the words to describe a five night spectacular vacation on a magical cruise ship filled to the brim with everything Disney, complete with the service one comes to expect from such a company. From getting to the port and being high-fived by righteously enthusiastic crew members wearing Mickey gloves to the luxury of the boat itself to the fantastic food experiences that just kept getting better as the vacation wore on to the wildlife encounters that one simply cannot plan to the glory of Alaska...  My words are wind. Our quarters were large in comparison to the coat closet I had on that other pseudo cruise.  It fit two tiny bathrooms, one with a full shower and one with the toilet.  Dave and I slept in an insanely comfortable queen bed while G bunked off the ceiling an...

Let's start with our port city of Vancouver.  We had the best taxi driver who doubled as a tour guide, giving us the ultimate scoop on Vancity.  The place was just beautiful and green and reminded me a lot of good ol' Wisconsin but with slightly cooler architecture and way better weather.  Sure, it gets pretty gray and rainy during the winter, but with very mild winters and summers?  Sold. Well, not exactly.  Apparently you have to be in the 1% to live there.  Even small houses in the area are a million smackers. I took some pictures of this lovely city.  So buckle up!   Here is a wastebasket.  Why did I take a picture of a wastebasket?  Because they have a compost bin ATTACHED.  How forward thinking, Canada! This was a tasty Canadian beer.  It was some sort of a pale ale and I recall enjoying it very much. This is my daughter and MIL laughing together, which marked the beginning of a very good vacation wh...

As promised, this is a post about a cruise, but it is not the cruise that you may expect. No, my friends.  For if you are to appreciate the magnitude of this recent cruise, you must first get a little bit of backstory.  People who have known me 20 years knows this story, for it has been told during the decades and has likely passed into legend.  A legend of threats of fire, burning hot pipes, AA meetings, and an unfortunate encounter with the wrong side of a very large bird.  Or was it a mammal? What could all these things have in common?  Two words: Caribbean cruise. Let me take you to circa 2001, when my sister and I were fresh buds of young flowering women, waiting to bloom under the warm sun of life and the nourishment of experience.  With the backing of our loving parents, we were offered the opportunity to sail through some early life tribulations with a nice cruise in the Caribbean, wile away our time sipping daiquiri's, gorge on the main buffe...