Learning to Get Along

For the most part, Sylvester has adjusted quite well to his new digs. His coat is already in much better shape, and he is becoming calm-er. He really enjoys his twice-daily walks, trotting along alertly with his head up, stopping to sniff determinedly at random spots along the way. He still gets really anxious when I leave the house for any length of time, winding around my legs when I get home as if to say, "I thought you'd NEVER come back!", but even there, he seems to be doing better - it helps that I rarely leave the house for more than 4-5 hours at a stretch.

He is still learning, however, how to coexist with Monster. I feel sorry for Monster - here he was, just settling into his role as king of the castle, and along came THAT DOG. He would prefer to just ignore the dog's existence, but Sylvester, for his part, can't seem to resist barking at him whenever Monster abandons his high ground.  

I thought I'd be able to leave them alone to work it out, but that hasn't happened yet. It's getting old, especially since Monster has become comfortable enough with his ability to hold the dog at bay to return to sleeping on my bed at night. I welcomed his return, and Sylvester didn't notice the change for the first little while, but once he did, there went my quality sleep. 

Monster comes and goes during the night, doing his nighttime house-wandering thing. Sylvester has decided he needs to be on the alert for the cat's comings and goings, and every time Monster enters or leaves the room, he runs after him barking ferociously. He's not trying to actually catch the cat, he's learned that lesson, but he does find it necessary to give chase. This happens several times a night.

Waking up and yelling at him to stop does seem to be helping - he gives up the chase shortly after I give the command, but it takes me a while to get back to sleep (of course) each time it happens.

*sigh*

So, tonight, I'm going to try something new. I'm going to take a leash upstairs and fasten it to the bed frame. The first time Sylvester goes after the cat, I'm going to clip the leash to his collar, and leave it there for the rest of the night. If nothing else, it'll stop him from being able to give chase. 

Wish me luck!

(I'm also open to suggestions, if any of you out there have other ideas. This whole dog ownership thing is fairly new to me. I'm learning, but there is a curve.)

January Days

I didn't get to see Kate and Lexi at Christmas time, and missed them, so booked tickets to come out to California; I've been here for the last couple of weeks.

It's been a great visit, but I have newfound empathy for Sylvester. I can see why he was getting so stressed before we journeyed him across the country to join me. Most of the days, I've stayed at home while Kate and Lexi are off to work and school; it's not been good beach-day weather. The first two days seemed unbearably long and quiet. It was chilly and muddy outside, so hikes were out, and I felt as if I had endless hours to fill each day, waiting for their return in the late evening.

However, I am not a dog, and I have many options available to me when I want to fill my time. I can read, write, draw, bake yummy treats for everyone, and go for long walks even if the weather isn't ideal. After those first two days of adjustment, time resumed its normal pace.

The two weekends I was here flew by. Her CrossFit crew welcomed my presence for their Saturday morning group classes. (To my pleasant surprise, by scaling the workouts back just a bit, I was able to more-or-less keep up with the Joneses. And, I made it through with minimal soreness to show for it the next morning. Go, me!) The rain moved on and the temps rose into the lower sixties, warm enough to enjoy some walks on the beach.

It took a few days, but the sun managed to dry the hiking trails, so I was able to get out and about for a couple of hikes in the state park adjoining the townhouse development where Kate lives.

There's something about looking out and seeing nothing man-made in eyeshot that immediately quiets my soul (even if my view has to be strategically aimed to cut out power lines and cell towers and other detritus).

I stop, I breathe, I relax.

I remember once again that I don't have to be off on the adventure of a lifetime in order to connect with the Beauty that is. I luxuriate in the warmth of the sun on my face and arms, noticing how the warmth contrasts with the coolness of the desert air. I stop on the trail for an endless moment, watching a hawk circle lazily high and low as it scans the ground far below for its next meal. (How can it be possible he/she can see any detail on the ground below from that height?  Nature is amazing.)

It is lovely to be here, and it will be lovely to return home in a day or so. Leaving it behind for a time helps me to appreciate the beauty of the refuge my house has become for me in recent years.

Life is Good.

Me, Procrastinate?

Those who have been reading my blog for years may vaguely recall the time, five years ago, when I wrote about meeting the miniatures artist who lives just a short distance from me. After talking to him that first time, I just couldn't quench the desire to try making a little something myself, and over the next few months, he was kind enough to work with me to help me come up with a suitable project. 

Way back when, I'd made myself a toy wooden carousel. OK, I ended up making five of them before I was satisfied with the end result, but the first four all found good homes. Never mind that part. The point here is that I was familiar with the project and how it went together, and Bill agreed it would be a good place to start.

He gave me any number of pointers, and a couple pieces of wood cut to the proper dimensions to use for building, and I got started with great enthusiasm, only to let the project languish time and time again. It wasn't that I couldn't do the work, or didn't want to, but there was always something else that seemed to need to get done first.

At least, that was my excuse. The real problem with finishing was that, somewhere in my head, my first attempt at making the miniature had to be as good as my fifth attempt at making the larger version of the carousel. So, every time something didn't turn out perfectly, which was often, I'd stop working for a while.

But, to my credit, I didn't just let it drop. I just KNEW I could do it if I tried, and I managed to convince myself to keep chipping away at it despite the flaws. At times, I'd let the task linger on my to-do list for six or seven weeks before taking even one next step, but eventually, I'd get out in the shop and spend an hour or two making progress.

This went on for several years. Finally, several months ago, on a follow-up visit to Bill to resolve my current set of roadblocks, I gathered up my courage and asked him if he would please give me enough wood to make version 2 once I'd finished version 1 of the toy. He obliged, and things have gone much more quickly since then - I now had permission to make mistakes, because I knew I would have another chance to get it right.

The final product isn't perfect, but even to my critical eye, it's a good first try. I now know enough to make different mistakes next time. Flaws and all, I feel a sense of pride and joy when I look at my tiny creation.

Baby steps, for the win!

Old Habits Die Hard

 

New year, new habits, yes? Or, in my case, I've decided to stop an old habit, which is the same thing in my book.

It was roughly four years ago that I tried an elimination diet for a couple of months to see if part of my inability to lose weight was caused by sensitivity to certain foods. As part of the diet, you track everything you eat, along with how you slept the night before, your mood and your energy levels.

I did a good job of following the guidelines, and came up with a disappointing but not surprising answer. (I kind of knew I'd be better off if I limited the amount of cheese and processed carbs in my diet even before I went through the rigamarole of the food restrictions. *sigh*) As a side bonus to my newfound knowledge, I lost a few pounds in the process of discovery.

I'd tried tracking my food intake before, in online apps, but always gave up after a few weeks. The foods I eat are not readily selected from a dropdown list and I found the process of guesstimating ingredients tedious at best. However, tracking on paper and then weighing myself the next day, as the diet had me do, seemed to be a happy medium. So, after returning to my normal eating habits, I kept up the tracking piece of the plan.

As a weight loss tactic, it worked for a while. Over the next couple of years, I lost enough weight to be comfortable in my current set of clothes again; a highly sustainable loss. Then I got stuck. I've been losing and regaining the same five pounds for the past two years. 

As I was pondering my life the other night, I figured out why I got stuck. While my ostensible goal for tracking my weight was to drop some pounds, I do believe my real motivation was to avoid having to shop for new clothes. To put it mildly, shopping has never been my favorite activity. I'm a little taller than the average woman, and finding clothes to fit can be a real chore. So, the minute I had dropped enough pounds to put the need to buy a whole new wardrobe comfortably out of the picture, the pounds stopped dropping off, even though I hadn't reached my somewhat arbitrary goal. I was comfortable enough in my skin.

Once the shopping motivation lightbulb came on in my head, I decided that, perhaps, I am being a bit OCD in continuing to track all I eat. If it hasn't made a difference in the last two years, chances are good it isn't going to make a difference in the future, either. Perhaps it is time to stop reaching for a goal I don't really care about.

So, I ended my food tracking journal with the end of 2022. It's been surprisingly unsettling. Logically, I know that four years of established good eating habits aren't going to undo themselves overnight, but there's a part of me that's convinced that the minute I stop tracking all that detail, I'll automatically lose all my hard-won progress along with it, and the dreaded shopping chore will pop back on to my to-do list. 

Each day since the calendar turned to its new leaf, I've anxiously hopped on the scale in the morning. Each morning, the scale has shown exactly what it's shown for the past few years. 

I'm starting to wonder if it's been hard for me to give up the ritual because I'm short on rituals these days. There's something anchoring about keeping a log of stuff I've done, but I no longer need to log my accomplishments at work (or home) to satisfy the powers that be. It might be one of those existential questions: If I'm not logging anything, do I still exist?

I'm going to go out on a limb, say that I'm pretty sure I do, and stick with my discomfort zone. 

I figure either the urge to log stuff will go away, or I'll begin to log something I care about for longer than a week after the log is completed. Keeping track of the books I've read would be a heck of a lot more interesting, I should think. Hmmm...

Happy New Year!

 

No. Just, no. That was my first thought upon waking up yesterday.

"It can't be the new year yet because I'm not mentally prepared to move on from 2022. I still have thoughts to think, lessons to assimilate, things to finish up!" But, as usual, the calendar cares not a whit for my state of mental and physical preparedness as it inexorably marches on. 

I got out of bed anyways, assembled my morning latte, and sat down with my journal to do a guided reflection of the year past*; a way to put things in order as I gently close the door on what was, and get ready for what is to be.

It helped.

As did taking down the tree last night. The powers that be scheduled the neighborhood tree pickup for today, Jan. 2nd, so the task needed doing. *Harumph! Clearly I'm not the one scheduling these things!* 

I was NOT done enjoying the lights and cheery ornaments on my small Christmas tree. However, a close look at the tree told me that perhaps the tree was done with me, and just maybe the tree-pickup scheduler was not out of line. The tree had started dropping its needles, its once supple branches are now brittle.

As I reluctantly began dismantling the decorations scattered about the house, I turned the Christmas music on. Loudly. I wanted the comforting music to drown out the sadness I felt because the season had (once again) passed too quickly.

It didn't work. The sadness was still there. 

But the music still worked some magic, because somehow, the music made the sadness OK. The Christmas story is not a feel-good tale of sunshine and unicorns. It is a story of light that comes despite the darkness. A testament to hope, anyways.

And I woke this morning ready to embrace that hope.

Happy New Year!

*A New Year's Reflection

List:
10 Highlights - Accomplishments, Best Memories
5 Disappointments - Failures, Missed Opportunities
3 Game Changers - Unexpected things that changed my priorities
3 Areas of Focus - Where did I spend most of my time?
3 Things I Forgot - What did I not get to, despite my good intentions?

Reflect: How does this re-form my plans / intentions for the New Year?