BulgingButtons

Not bad for a fat girl


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Shut Up and Listen

I felt it coming on, but didn’t know how to prevent it. About twice a year this happens. For some unknown reason I develop an unpleasant and irritating malady that leaves me without much of a voice. I rasp and scratch and my top volume is barely audible. It’s easier to just clam up and not say a word.silent+smiley

This, of course, wouldn’t be much of a problem if I were a monk who had taken a vow of silence. Or anyone who had taken a vow of silence. I, however, have taken no such vow. In fact, I am bound to do the opposite. My job is to teach, and in teaching I generally use my voice. During these times, though, I have to think of something else.

Fortunately for me I have access to technology. My lessons this week have been delivered with the support of  powerpoint presentations, and in those presentations I have shared the voices of others. Poets, athletes, entertainers, and ordinary people have shared their voices with my students this week. They have learned through not only my voice, but the voices of many others, from around the globe. There have been voices of the able bodies and physically challenged, the wealthy and the poor, the successful and the downtrodden.

In class we listen to music, get lost in poetry, and think about our place in the world. We challenge ourselves to be our best, and by doing so to make a positive impact on our world.

Sometimes losing our own voice allows us to really listen to others, and in so doing to learn from them and make our own message more clear.


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It Turns Out Karma Isn’t All Bad After All

You may recall the story of my son’s stolen bicycle from last week. It was a downer, but what can you do? Write an open letter, and move on, right? Right.

Well, today Ms. Karma raised her head and made something cool happen. Sometime over the weekend, one of the early childhood teachers at the community center where my son volunteers decided that she didn’t need a particular bike that was in her garage. It may have been hers. It may have been her grown son’s. It doesn’t matter. She heard that my boy’s bike was stolen right off the bike rack outside the center, and it rubbed her the wrong way, so she decided to do something about it.GOOD-KARMA-AD.-1ai

This woman has been at this center for many years. She was there when my son was small, although she never had him in her group. Her own son was his summer camp counselor for two summers, summers that influenced him to continue volunteering at the camp after he aged out of their program. She and her family have done so much for so many families, including my own.

When my son told me she gave him a bike I was overwhelmed. I never expected that outcome. It’s not that I think people are selfish, it’s just that it didn’t occur to me that someone would produce a bike ready for him to ride, but there it is. I have to shout from the rooftops… goodness is rewarded! Thank you so much to this wonderful teacher and her family, and thank you to everyone who sent good mojo our way. My boy is once again happily peddling to work, to spend his vacation days helping out for no reward other than personal satisfaction. And once again, all is right with the world.


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You Can’t Hide a Sonoran Hot Dog, At Least Not From the Scale

8370380481_1b40089c4b“What’s a Sonoran Hot Dog?” you ask.

It’s pure genius. For those of you who like hot dogs (and I imagine that’s most of you) this is a wonderful South of the Border twist. It’s a hot dog served with chilis, pinto beans, tomato, cheese, and mayo. Mmmmm. I know it may not sound all that great, but trust me, it’s fantastic. Oh, and did I mention that it’s typically wrapped in bacon? Yeah. It is.

Now in my defense, the dog I had yesterday was only based on a Sonoran Hot Dog. It was lacking the bacon. It did, however, have everything else, and it was fabulous. So was the steak dinner complete with baked potato and wine and half a piece of lemon cake, and so was the dinner at the fondue restaurant. Oh, and the drinks from Starbucks and that croissant, and the ice cream cone and the tacos and beer and the oatmeal cookie and the piece of cake at the baby shower. It was all fabulous. And it was all a mistake.

I know I messed up, but for some reason I kept messing up. I needed to go to my Weight Watchers meeting and assess the damage so I could start doing damage control. I knew I gained back some of the 15 pounds I lost, but I didn’t know how much. I braced myself. There was no point in waiting any longer. I wasn’t going to magically change my ways without a kick in the rear. So, steeling myself, I went. I got on the scale expecting the worst, and got the news. Yes, I gained. But here’s the bizarre part… it was less than two pounds!

How did that happen? It must be all the physical activity I’ve been doing recently. That’s all I can think of, because my eating has been way off track (see paragraph two). I dodged a bullet for sure, and now I get to dust myself off and start over. Every day you get to start over. It doesn’t matter if it’s weight loss, addiction, relationships, or exercise. Every day you get to begin again. I love that about life. Even if I mess up today I get to have another crack at it all tomorrow.

I did mess up today. Not just with my eating, but with my friend. We made tentative plans to have lunch together. I knew I might have to do something that would make it impossible to meet her, so I told her I would confirm. I didn’t. I just plain forgot. I forget things so I set reminders in my phone. Well, for some reason my phone decided to do nothing but act as a clock for several hours. I missed the reminder. I missed her text messages. I missed the lunch. I wouldn’t have been able to meet her anyway, but I needed to let her know. I felt like a heel. Lucky for me, she’s a good friend and very forgiving. Now I need to be as forgiving to myself and my dear friends are to me.

Don’t we all deserve to treat ourselves as we would treat our closest friends? We wouldn’t beat them up (verbally I mean) for making a mistake, would we? But we do hold them accountable. We aren’t doormats, but we do forgive and move on. I think I need to remember that as I work to be my own best friend more often than my own worst enemy.