Tough Old Bird

I feel angst today.   I'm not sure if that is due to lack of sleep or something deeper.  But it is definitely angst that I am feeling.

Mr. Finn is due to leave soon and as much as I enjoy not picking up after him and pretending to come up with ideas for dinner on a regular basis, I really don't like it when he is gone.  Deep down inside I like knowing he is within 50 feet of me at all times when I am sleeping or whatever I am doing, like watching TV in my office.

I realized that today when I thought about him leaving and it made me sad.  I thought I was excited for a minute and then I realized that is what I tell everyone else.  That way they don't ply me with pity questions about how I am doing all the time.

I really don't like that!

I am tough.  I really am.  It came as a surprise to me.  The older I got the tougher I got.  Kind of like an old bird.  The older the tougher.  Isn't that the saying?

But, I am kind of a wimp when it comes to being alone at night.  I hear everything and I imagine everything else.  I know the weak spots in my home and I obsess over their deficiencies.

Besides, it is comforting to hear him breathing beside me even when I want to be asleep and not hear anything else.

He is a comfort to me.  In more ways than as just my protector.  He is the things I am not and sometimes I find that extremely comforting. 

 And somedays it is annoying, but not when he is gone.

Besides, who is going to go out in the freezing weather and blow the snow off my driveway when he is hundreds of miles away?  Can you imagine these two with that shovel taking care of it?

Hang Ten...

It seems like yesterday I was standing in the foyer of the Los Angeles Temple waiting for my soon to be husband to arrive so we could be married.  Finally.  It was going to be the best day of my life.  I knew it!  I could feel it.

I was elated and bubbling with joy.  My groom would be here any minute.

What?  No, he isn't here yet.  I can't go get ready until he arrives?  Ok.  I will wait here, it will be any minute.

Nervous excitement flitted around inside my stomach.  Anytime....

Seriously anytime now.

Nervous... not quite excitement.

Is that him coming through the door.

Nervous... worried.  Where is he?

There he is...  nope, not yet.

Nervous, worried, scared, worried, anxious, worried.

Is he coming?  Has it seriously been that long since I last looked at the clock?

Where is he?  No answer again on his cell phone.

42 minutes of waiting.  Everyone that was inside waiting is now in the foyer plying me with questions and words of encouragement.  "He will be here", they all say.

I know.... nervous anxiety romping around in my gut.

45 minutes.

The doors open.

My sweetheart enters with that grin on his face.

That darn traffic and florist.

One hour later...

We were married.

For Time and all Eternity.

I love my Mr. Finn!

The Art of Listening

A woman says to her husband, "Where did you put the picture of the grandkids we got in the mail?"

I don't know replies her husband.

She replies, "I hope you didn't burn them." (Her husband had burned the christmas wrapping paper earlier that day.)

Later she finds the pictures and tells her husband that she found them.

She then turns her attention to another picture given them by another daughter. Discovering it to be the wrong size she tells her husband that she is going to scan it and make it the size she has hanging on her wall.

Satisfied with the work she has done for the day she goes to bed sure all is well in the world.

The next day upon arriving home from work she sees another copy of the picture she scanned and reduced sitting on the table. Wondering why there was another copy she asks her husband.

He replies; "I told her you burned her picture so we needed another one!"

Disclaimer:

Nobody got burned in the making of this story.

This story is not about me and my hubby.

It is a true story.

Still pondering the "fluffy".

I've pondered on all the New Years Resolutions I have read around the blogging community and it has made me think about my lack of having one.  Really.

I say I want to be less "fluffy", but to be completely honest to myself, (and you) I have ZERO desire.  I have WANT but not "get up and go".

I want to wake up tomorrow and be the size I was 2 years ago.  I was happy with that body. Or at least I am now.  Weight is subjective.  When I weigh a lesser weight I am always thinking it would be better if...

When I am heavier I look back on that weight and think I was perfect.  See the vicious cycle?

I need to just find solace in what I am.  Be o.k. with the way I look.

I am not obese.  That is something, right?

Why is it so hard for women (and some men) to be o.k. with how they look.  I read a post today that says the media (TV) have made it impossible for us to be happy with our physical appearance and blame US for not weighing the perfect weight.

What is the perfect weight?

I guess that depends on how you feel about you, I suppose.

I was feeling o.k. about my weight and even thought the curves were kind of sexy.

Until we took our family photo and realized I looked more like a potato.  There is a reason I did not pick the one with us standing up.  And... this picture is cropped for obvious reasons.

(The question is:  What the heck am I looking at?  They are looking at a stuffed cat!)

Apparently my mind can see what it wants in the mirror.

Is that a bad thing?

Or has society taught us the definition of shape.

I was watching a documentary show on Discovery and in the background were artworks of these voluptuous victorian women.  They were huge by todays standards, but were considered beautiful and most desirable back in the ? century.  (this isn't a history lesson so the facts won't be spot on.)

When did that change?  Why did that change?  Who changed it?

Why did women allow that image to change?

I guess what I am trying to say is...

Is it o.k. to love yourself as is and come what may?

Or...

Is that an excuse to be "fluffy"?

A Fluffy Dilemna

I was trying to keep the Dude quiet while the others slept in yesterday.  After all it has been a hard week of being sick for almost everyone.  But... alas, the Dude is incapable of "quietness".  He chose to play with his Mighty Beans in the closet with Daddy's shoe boxes.

Moooommmmmmmmmm!  This one won't mighty bean!

Why?  I ask.

It's too fluffy!

See the difference?

I now understand why I can't "Mighty Bean" around the house.  The little... errr, fat.... errrr, FLUFFY guy seems to be a little malicious.  I believe he may have put a curse on me.

I can't imagine how else I would have gotten this "fluffy" in my life.  It would have nothing to do with eating.  I'm quite sure of that.

I am going with conspiracy for the whole Fluffy Thing.

Anyways, I believe I have my New Years Resolution.

To not be so fluffy....


Of Course!

Now... off to find that fluffy, malicious Mighty Bean.