Happy happy health update

Over at Bodies in Motivation: All about my health

In the mirror

Last night I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror while I was washing my hands. I finished washing my hands but then I kept looking.

I was wearing a pink zip-up hoodie that I got on clearance at Old Navy last summer, even though it was too small at the time. My hair was pulled back into an incredibly messy bun, just done so I could take a bath without getting my hair wet. I had on zero makeup. You could see my double chin. It's much less prominent than it used to be, but definitely still there, especially from certain angles. The bright bathroom lighting was not exactly flattering.

But looking at myself, I felt attractive. Not beautiful. Not cute. Not striking. But appealing, somehow.

I felt like I was looking at myself, really, just me. Not that I'm not myself when I'm wearing work clothes, or a fancy dress, or a full face of makeup. I felt beautiful on my wedding day, when I was arguably the fanciest I've ever been. I feel strong and confident when I'm wearing a skirt and heels. I feel like my hair adds to my attractiveness when it's loose and curly and freshly washed.

Never in a million years would I think that I'd be at my most attractive when I look like I'm about to head out the door to the gym. And it wasn't really about the way I looked. It wasn't about my features, whether I could be a model, whether other people would be attracted to me.

No, I just felt capable. The way I looked in that random moment, washing my hands casually in my house, that felt like the me I'm most comfortable being. The way I looked in the mirror reflected the way I felt. It reflected serenity and relaxation and priorities. It reflected my lifestyle, going out and about but also enjoying, loving, adoring life at home.

It was me, in the state I am most comfortable being in. It was me, casual, relaxed, slightly athletic. It was me, at home and happy to be there. It was me, plain and simple. And that, regardless of what it might have looked like to other people, looked attractive to me.

Does this happen to other people? Are there different versions of yourself, or different contexts for yourself, that you like more or less than others? Do those preferences show up in the mirror? What is your favorite state of being?

Open season

You guys, it was so GLORIOUS to come home on Friday night. It almost (ALMOST) made the length of the trip and the five days away from Torsten worth it. It was so NICE to have him waiting for me at the airport, and to come home to find out that he had bought me a delicious birthday cake, and also a gift of a bunch of bulbs and seeds so we can plant some flowers in our back yard this year (including beautiful purple iris bulbs, one of my favorites). And to greet an wriggling, nuzzling mass of excited dog at the door. And then to go to sleep in MY bed, cuddling with my husband.

And then! The weather this weekend! ESPECIALLY yesterday. It was so warm! And sunny! And breezy! And luckily Torsten and I had the foresight to go to Costco on Saturday and buy some food for grilling, because we had seen the weather forecast, so yesterday morning Torsten flung open the back door and announced, "Let Grilling and Squirrel Chasing Season 2010 begin."

And that was so apt! We went outside, and cleaned off our patio furniture, and uncovered and scrubbed the grill, and swept the patio, and put our new doormat (purchased last fall, but kept in waiting until now) in front of the back door. And then Torsten grilled bison burgers and corn on the cob for lunch, and we sat on the patio and enjoyed the food, while the dog lay peacefully in the sun at our feet, taking the occasional break to run after a squirrel and bury, dig up, and re-bury a couple of treats.

We lounged on the patio for awhile after lunch, drinking in the beautiful weather, reading, talking about where to plant the flowers once the last of the snow has melted (the left side of our yard melts much sooner than the right, so half the yard--luckily the half with the patio--is looking green and warm, while the other half is still covered in snow).

Afterward, we took the dog to the off-leash state park nearby, and we strolled while she sprinted and wrestled and swam and romped. The weather was just unbelievably perfect and we were clearly not the only ones who thought so--the park was full of people and dogs, and everyone was just in the most wonderful spring mood. It must have been all that vitamin D we were all soaking in. It makes everything blissful!

I still have spray-on sunscreen in my hair. It's supposed to be 70 degrees and sunny today, and 79 (SEVENTY-NINE) and sunny tomorrow. And suddenly I remember with perfect clarity how lovely it was last summer, when it stayed light until after nine, and we grilled out nearly every night, and went hiking almost every weekend. And I love that we get to have another summer like that this year. And then many many more summers like that in all the years to come.

We know this isn't it for the snow, that Denver gets a fair amount of snow in March and April, that we'll likely get at least one more good storm, if not more. But from here on out it should be the kind of snow that melts almost as quickly as it came. And that's the best kind of snow to have.

I love every season in Denver, truly. I'm ready for spring but I liked winter, genuinely liked it, enjoyed the coziness of it and the beauty of the snow. But this season, the one that's starting now? Grilling and Squirrel Chasing Season? This is definitely, without a doubt, the best one of all.

Beyond incredulous

I hit my business trip wall yesterday. I am just DONE. I've been here for over a week, it's been windy and rainy for most of it, my husband is far away, I'm tired, and overall I'm just over it. I want to go home.

Luckily, I am going home, tonight, so I'm pretty much done at this point (other than the 4-hour plane ride), but I am still in that ridiculous mental place. I was VERY GRUMPY last night about having to go to bed by myself without Torsten next to me, and I was still grumpy about it when I woke up in a bed by myself this morning.

What can I say? I'm a big baby and I don't like to be away from my husband, and I don't like being away from home for this long unless I'm on some wonderful exotic vacation. And a business trip to DC is certainly not a wonderful exotic location.

But! It's OK! Because I have found incredible hilarity to distract me, in the form of some choice quotes from Jennifer Love Hewitt's new book.

Seriously. I had no opinion about this woman before. But NOW do I EVER have an opinion about her. I don't think I need to tell you what it is. I'm pretty sure that these quotes from her book speak for themselves:

"It's no secret—guys hate to spoon. They prefer to fork, lol! ... So here's the trick: play it cool until he falls asleep and then Velcro yourself to him, quickly and with very little motion (think Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible). And then, if and when he wakes, turn quickly, like you were just stretching, and wait. When the little lamb sleeps again One...Two...Three...Velcro!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"When they say 'I,' help them say 'we.' If you and your guy are with other people and he says, 'I ate at the best restaurant last night,' just simply follow it up with, 'Yeah, we had the best food!' It will eventually change his thinking."

Seriously, you have to read the rest of the quotes. No matter how pissy you're feeling, the sheer hilarity will crack you up. I mean, not that she is trying to be hilarious. But the quotes definitely are. Or else they're just really depressing. You decide.

Raclette

So on my birthday, my mom and I went to a family friend's house for dinner. There were seven of us there, and it was lovely. (I think I've been using the word "lovely" a lot recently, but... well, it just seems very applicable at the moment.)

The dinner was nice, the company was wonderful, I got very touching cards and gifts, and for dinner we had raclette. Has anyone else ever had that? I've only had it once, ever, in France. Everyone makes their own little dish using the various meats and vegetables that are on the table, and melts cheese on top of the whole thing. It's delicious, and it's kind of like eating tapas in that you can have lots of different little dishes as your dinner instead of one big dish.

Anyway, the birthday was great and the dinner was great and I was so appreciative that all these people went out of their way to make my birthday so nice. And the raclette was extra special because it reminded me of the one other time I'd ever had it.

It was January 2006 and I'd gone to Ireland for a debate tournament during winter break, and then after we were done in Ireland I went to France for a couple weeks to visit my host family there. And when I arrived it turned out that they had rented a chalet in the Pyrenees for a weekend to celebrate the birthday of a close family friend. So we all drove off, three or four families, like 15 or so people in this giant rented chalet.

When we got there it turned out that someone had arranged to rent 15 sets of snowshoes and poles so we could all go on a little snowshoeing expedition. They were waiting for us outside the chalet, all lined up for us to wear.

I was very nervous about the whole thing. I didn't have the proper clothes, for one thing... only jeans and a wool coat. I ended up borrowing a fleece, and a hat, and little plastic windbreaker things to put over my ankles and calves to prevent my jeans from getting soaked. But I was also worried since I'd never been snowshoeing before, and I wasn't much of a hiker. I was envisioning heading out and getting way behind and making 14 people, many of whom I'd never even met before, stand around waiting for me impatiently.

But it turned out awesome. It was BEAUTIFUL to be able to just walk along a snowy mountain, in places you could normally never go, and see views you could normally never see.


And, it turned out I was good at snowshoeing. I actually led the group, along with my host brother. I liked it so much that I have been really wanting to do it in Colorado. We didn't end up doing it this winter but once the snow starts in the fall I am really hoping to head up to the mountains and rent some snowshoes. Torsten's never done it before, but if he likes it too then maybe we can buy snowshoes eventually in the spring sales and then we can go regularly in the future. It's just so fun and beautiful, and a really enjoyable way to get some exercise.

I miss it. And I liked that I was good at it. When we went that time in the Pyrenees, my host brother and I would often be the ones who would have to stop and wait for the others to catch up.


And then when we got back that evening, we were all freezing and hungry and we sat down at the giant table in the chalet with many pitchers of water and bottles of wine, and we had raclette for dinner.


It was the perfect post-outdoorsy-exercise dinner, lots of potatoes and meat and cheese. It was delicious and everyone enjoyed it. It was very relaxing and we all talked and laughed and had fun. There were like six little kids at the table and they enjoyed it too. Raclette is actually Swiss in origin, I believe, but it felt very French.

And then there I was two days ago, just outside of DC, having raclette again. This time it didn't feel so French, but it definitely felt delicious. And it brought back so many memories of that trip. It's funny, the random little things that trigger so many feelings and memories.

And perfect timing, because now I know I'm going back in two months. And I'm sad that the trip will be so short and that Torsten can't come (and that he's still never been back to France with me, or met my host sister, though he has met the rest of the family). But the trip is going to be awesome.

DC things

1. Yesterday was cold and windy, and rainy for part of the day. Walking to work sucked. Also, I made the mistake of wearing a lightweight skirt. I've lost my feel for appropriate work clothes for commuting, apparently. But today is sunny and it's already warmish and it's going to get positively warm this afternoon. I walked to work in the sunshine and admired all the blooming flowers in people's gardens. Lots of daffodils and crocuses and pops of color. My hotel is about ten minutes from my office and it is rather lovely to walk through some of the lovely rowhouses that make up DC's downtown residential areas.
2. Working in an office when you aren't normally in the office can become very distracting. People come by, or suddenly it seems ridiculous to call someone who's right down the hall so you walk down the hall to talk to them, and bump into three other people along the way, and then you remember why you should have called them to begin with. The office I'm sitting in doesn't have a phone, so I have to use Skype or my BlackBerry to call people if I need to talk to them, and it feels much more ridiculous than picking up a regular phone and dialing an internal extension would. I think that's why I'm so averse to doing it.
3. Speaking of my office not having a phone, it also doesn't have anything else except a desk. I'm using my own laptop (meaning I don't have printer access), I had to steal an ethernet cord from the cube of someone who recently left the company, and I'm still using my BlackBerry. Basically it's like I'm telecommuting from my own office. It feels very strange. But it's still very nice to be here and see everyone, and so far it's been very productive.
4. I do not miss being reliant on public transportation at all. It is great to have and it mostly works pretty well, though of course the system still has issues that need to be worked out. But I love that we now live in a place where having a car is affordable and convenient, and we can go wherever we want, whenever we want. I don't miss having to build in an extra 20 minutes to get wherever I was going, and being trapped in the city and unable to ever go to some of the gorgeous outdoorsy areas that surround DC.
5. The neighborhood that I'm staying in is very safe and nice, but I keep getting cat-called and talked at by random guys on the street. And no, before you say it, I don't think it's a compliment. I don't think it has anything to do with looks or attractiveness. The way it's done has to do with power. They are saying things to strange women on the street in ways that are designed to make them feel exposed and uncomfortable. They are not friendly little compliments. They are rude. And I don't like it.
   
6. DC is a great town. I'm glad I lived here. But I'm even more glad that I don't live here anymore.
   

Happy birthday to me

So, my sister got married. And it was lovely. She wore an awesome purple dress and her husband(!) wore an awesome purple shirt. They got married at the courthouse in Annapolis, and it turns out the Maryland is super accommodating with their courthouse weddings. Apparently in DC they have a six-person limit for guests, and in Virginia I don't think they do courthouse weddings at all, but in Maryland the courthouse actually had a little non-denominational chapel with pews and everything. (Full photo set here.)


It was great. There were 12 people there altogether, including the bride and groom, and even though it was the middle of March, the weather was glorious--sunny and around 70 degrees. And my sister and her husband were so happy. It was adorable.


Speaking of adorable, my sister's husband's kids--now my sister's step-kids, and my step-nieces (I'm a step-aunt!) are incredibly freaking cute. Truly, what's not to love?


And my brother-in-law's mom had even brought an adorable little cake. AND it was purple! Because that is the definitive perfect color for a wedding cake, at least in my family.


Now they are off on their honeymoon, on a lovely tropical cruise, and I am in DC where it is rainy and not cold exactly, but certainly not tropical and definitely not beachy. I'm not going to lie, I'm a little bitter. Though it is nice being in DC.

Also, today is my birthday. I'm 26. I'm pretty pleased about this. Not the birthday part so much--for whatever reason, it doesn't really feel like my birthday--but 26 feels like a good age for me, like it's the right age for where I am in my life right now. Not too young, not too old. I'm like Goldilocks, and I've found the age that is juuuuust right for me. I hope.

Also, yesterday I booked my trip to France to attend my host sister's wedding in May. So we will definitely go ahead and call that a birthday present. A really super awesome one. I can't wait to go.

And in the meantime, I will definitely enjoy dinner tonight with my mom and friends. And a day catching up with coworkers, including a birthday lunch. And a lovely phone call with my lovely husband tonight.

Not a bad birthday, huh?

Wedding week

My sister is getting married tomorrow. So, Torsten and I are flying to DC tonight. I am excited to go back and see my family and some of my friends. Also, I am just generally excited about everything right now because it is warm and sunny and it stays light out until late and it feels like spring and spring makes me happy. And I am looking forward to wearing Dress C to a spring wedding. (That was the dress I had been leaning toward, and I had my leaning confirmed by the vast majority of you, so that was great.)

Also, my birthday is next week. Though it will be a little strange because I will still be in DC and Torsten will be back in Denver. I'm staying in DC an extra week for work, because the timing worked out nicely and this way I don't have to fly cross-country twice and also work paid for my plane ticket. But it didn't make sense for Torsten to give up a week of working on his company and have to pay for a ton of meals out and also pay for an extra week of dog boarding just so he could stay with me in DC and be with me on my birthday, so we'll be apart.

However, to make up for it my mom is going to stay in DC a couple extra days, and we are going to have dinner with family friends that day, so it should be a lovely birthday despite the lack of husband nearby. And the lack of presents (it just didn't make sense to splash out money on a birthday present I don't need, so I think if I go to France we're going to go ahead and call that trip my birthday present) will also be strange, but fine, really. I guess it just feels like an adult birthday, and I'm not sure yet if that's a good thing or not.

Anyway! Flying out tonight! Lots of work to do today, and must drop the dog off to board, and also finish packing and do several other things. And definitely will not be around to post for the rest of the week. But will probably still be posting next week! Taking a business trip to the place I used to live and work is always half weird and half very, very normal. And I think the blog posting falls in the "normal" category.

I hope everyone enjoys the rest of their week!

Meant to be

I generally believe that things will work out for the best. But I don't believe that things were meant to be a certain way, that you can trust that things will work out the way you want them to. Is that a contradiction?

I guess what I mean is that things have generally worked themselves out for me, in the past, and that's been a combination of luck and hard work. And I generally do believe that people can get past most difficult things, and still be happy. And that even when something seems crappy while you're stuck in it, afterward it's usually OK again.

But I don't believe this is true for everyone, all the time. Some people experience terrible, horrible, unthinkable tragedy. Some people experience multiple such tragedies. I don't think you can go through life assuming that everything will always be fine, you will never be struck by things you can't deal with, and so on.

I also have found that often the things that you don't expect to work out are the things that end up being totally fine. But this can't be faked. You can't tell yourself that you're expecting the worst in order to cause the best to happen. You have to genuinely believe that it's going to be bad, it's not going to be what you want.

This is warped, I know, and also an example of irrationally ascribing power to irrelevant expectations. But it also means that I'm afraid of jinxing myself when I want things. Like, if I have faith that Torsten's business is going to succeed (and I do), does that jinx the chance of it actually happening? Would it be better if I were convinced that it was going to fail?

And I don't believe that things happen in a certain intentional way. Which is really too bad, because I think that would be an incredibly comforting thing to believe once we start trying to get pregnant, if it takes awhile. Every month when there is no baby, I would be able to just tell myself that oh, that wasn't our baby, and we will have the baby we were meant to have. But instead I know I'll just be incredibly frustrated.

What about you? Do you believe that what is meant to be will be?

Transformation

Oh hi. Remember this room?


Well, now it looks like this!


We spent pretty much the entire weekend painting. Torsten and I painted the top half together, which took all day Saturday and part of Sunday morning. Then Torsten did some work for his company while I did the bottom part, which took Sunday afternoon and evening.

What can I say? I know that it took us an entire weekend to paint a tiny room, but we aren't exactly professionals. In fact, this was the first time I had ever painted a room, and the first time Torsten had done so in the past 15 years or so.

So, you know. The paint job isn't perfect. There are a few little spots of blue on the baseboards, and a couple little hints of the beige paint that was there before along the edge of the ceiling. But these things aren't visible at all unless you're looking for them, and overall it turned out much better than either of us expected.

In fact, I was a little nervous about the concept and about the colors we chose. I loved the suggestion you all had of the two-tone concept, but I was afraid that we would pick the wrong colors and it would wind up looking jarring and tacky instead of tranquil and appealing.

But, I didn't need to worry! Because I LOVE IT. It was worth the paint in the hair and the blister on my thumb and the backaches and the use of my entire weekend. Because it is PERFECT. I still can't even believe how well it turned out. And Torsten loves it too.

Now, just to be patient until we have reason to furnish it as a nursery! Until then, it will stand empty and I will peek at it every day and bask in its loveliness.

I really cannot get enough of it. In fact, I know I already showed you a picture, but let's see another one, shall we? You can never have enough photos, right? Because LOOK:

American Idol has left me speechless...

...and not in a good way.

Sad enough about Lilly. Too early for her to go home even though I knew she couldn't win it all.

But Alex Lambert? HOW COULD THAT BE? He was one of the best! Just please please please let him get an awesome record deal and become a huge star. He has such an awesome voice! And he's so sweet, and bizarrely, confusingly charming (just ignore the mullet). I LOVE HIM. HOW COULD HE BE LEAVING?

Let us all revel in the wonder that is this kid's amazing voice, one last time (the song itself lasts under two minutes... the rest is the judges' critiques).

What should I wear to my sister's wedding?

So, as I may have already mentioned, my sister is getting married in DC next week. This is the second wedding for both her and her fiance, and it will not be a big, traditional affair. Only immediate family (parents, siblings, and children) will be there, and there is no bridal party or anything like that. There will be no big white dress. In fact, my sister is wearing a knee-length purple dress. (She likes purple as much as I do.)

Her dress is fancy, though, fancier than anything I own, so she will definitely stand out. So it's not like I have to stay away from purple because that's the bride's color. In fact, as far as we're both concerned, the more purple the better.

Of course, my options are limited, since the vast majority of my formal dresses are way too big by now. In fact, I have only three options, which certainly makes picking a dress easier. Luckily, two of them are purple.

Anyway! Let's look at the three dresses, shall we? I'm leaning strongly toward one of them, but I definitely want to hear opinions from others.

Dress A (some longtime readers may remember that I wore this dress to my rehearsal dinner--which was on Halloween, in case it isn't obvious from the photo--when I was significantly heavier, but apparently it's very flexible with its sizing, because it still fits):


Dress B:


Dress C:


So what do you think? Which one should I wear?

Gout?!

There's a fun little story in the UK newspaper The Sun right now. I swear I found the link on Twitter, but when I went back to find it I couldn't. Regardless, the story is... well. It's special. It's about a woman in Britain who didn't know she was pregnant until three hours before she gave birth.

Now, I don't watch that show I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant, so maybe that's why I find this so shocking. But it's not so much HER that I'm shocked about. I mean, I think it's pretty clear that she's not a Mensa candidate, and if I missed my period for nine months in a row I'm guessing it would occur to me to take a pregnancy test.

But, she's overweight. Her period may never have been regular. And there's no requirement that ordinary people be smart.

But there IS a requirement that doctors be smart, or at least REASONABLE. And this woman WENT TO THE DOCTOR when she got pregnant. She has been there REGULARLY over the past nine months with stomach ailments that were diagnosed as IBS and gout. GOUT. And it never once occurred to any of her doctors to see if she were pregnant.

But the worst part? When they DID figure out that she was pregnant, they told her she was THREE MONTHS ALONG and sent her home. Three hours before the baby was born! And it wasn't a preemie... it weighed almost nine pounds. Nine pounds! Did it not occur to them to do an ultrasound when they realized she was pregnant? Because it's my understanding that ultrasounds can tell you how much a baby weighs and when they're due. They might not be right to the ounce and to the day, but I'm pretty sure that if you do an ultrasound of a nine-months-pregnant woman with a nine-pound baby in her uterus, you're not going to think that she's only three months along.

I mean, what did they do? Glance at her stomach and say, "Eh, looks like you're about three months along. Run along home now and we'll see you in another six months"?

Seriously, this story is UNBELIEVABLE. I cannot get over it. What a crappy standard of care!

But I do have to say I think this quote from the mother is hilarious: "We hardly had time to think about it; no one believed us when we told them we suddenly had a child."

I mean, imagine giving birth one day, just like that! And calling up your parents and telling them they've suddenly become grandparents. And having to call up work and say oh by the way I'll need to go on maternity leave... starting now. And the father has to run out while you stay in the hospital with the baby to buy a car seat so that you can bring the baby home from the hospital. And once you get home from the hospital if you want to put the baby down you are pretty much stuck with the old dresser drawer trick.

Am I the only one whose mind is BLOWN by this? Or are you guys shocked too?

The one that got away?

I was reading Busty Satan's post about finding out on Facebook that an ex-boyfriend is now married, and it got me thinking about past relationships, first loves, all that jazz.

I only know of one guy that I've dated who is married now. Souley, the man I dated while I was living in Senegal. As I said in my comment on BS's post, I found out a couple years after I moved back to the US that he had married a French woman and they had a daughter together.

By the time I found out about this, I was already dating Torsten and I was long since over Souley. I thought of him with fondness and wondered how he was doing, but I didn't miss him and I didn't miss being with him. I knew that a long-term relationship with him would never have worked out, and I had no regrets. So, when I heard that he was married with a child, I was mostly happy for him.

The one thing that gave me pause was the fact that his wife was French. The woman Souley dated before me was Dutch, and white. Their relationship was long-term and very serious. I didn't think too much about it, at the time. Two foreign girlfriends could be totally coincidental.

But three? Three stops seeming like a coincidence to me. Three starts seeming like a pattern. Three foreign women (and I am presuming, though I don't know for sure, that his French wife is white) starts to seem like a desire for a change. A desire for a visa, more specifically.

Maybe I'm jaded, because when I was in Senegal I received marriage proposals from strange men on the street pretty much every single day, and many of them were quite up-front about wanting a white wife who could get them a visa and a ticket out of Senegal. This isn't some paranoia in my head. I am always generally skeptical of relationships between Senegalese men and white foreign women for this reason. Souley seemed like an exception to me, especially since we had discussed at the beginning of our relationship the fact that it would end when I moved back to the US. We agreed. That was the plan. And we stuck to it. So I didn't see any ulterior motives.

But now, with the third foreign woman in a row? I don't know anymore. I suspect that he was looking for a foreign woman. I suspect that part of the reason why he even noticed me to begin with had to do with the fact that I was white, foreign, American, rich (relatively speaking). I don't think that's the whole reason. I don't think you can fake five months of being in love the way we were at the time. But I think it was probably a factor.

But the thing is? It doesn't matter. We had a great relationship. We really enjoyed each other. We cared about each other. We walked away from that relationship both feeling fulfilled and happy. My memories of my time with him are positive. And now I've moved on, and so has he.

Maybe he wanted a foreign wife. Maybe that's part of why he dated me. But that doesn't change the fact that we were good together, we had fun together, we supported each other.

Maybe I'm a subjectivist, but if we both look back on our relationship positively, and we've both moved on and are now happy with other people, having found what we wanted... does it matter why he was interested in me in the first place? Does it matter why I was interested in him?

I don't think it does.

Oscar postmortem

I was on some newspaper website yesterday afternoon, and I wish I could remember which one but I can't, and it had one of those random little sidebar polls, asking if people were planning to watch the Oscars. And the answer options were either "yes," "no, I'll watch something else," or "no, I don't watch TV."

Am I the only person who sees something missing here? How about "no, I watch TV sometimes but I won't be watching it at that particular time"? Doesn't that seem like a valid option? I mean, the three possible answers imply that if you watch TV, you watch it round the clock. It just seems weird.

Anyway, I'm not really one to talk, because I did watch the Oscars, or at least part of them. I have to say, I don't actually really enjoy the Oscars that much, and also I'm not a big moviegoer so I've usually seen only a very few of the nominated movies, and I find almost all of the acceptance speeches so awkward that I want to hit the mute button. And the ones that aren't awkward are the ones that were clearly memorized in advance and aren't exciting or touching at all (Mo'Nique, anyone?).

(Though, I will say that I liked the speech from the costume design winner. Yeah, she was a little braggy about this being her third Oscar, but she is RIGHT. Historical films ALWAYS win this category, when in fact I think it's a lot more work to costume a contemporary film that requires a lot more subtlety. For example, I really thought The Queen deserved to win the year it was nominated, because it was a real challenge to dress Helen Mirren in the queen's notable, and sometimes awkward, style.)

But! The dresses! And the occasional ball-related joke! But really, the dresses! Some of my favorites (all photos from NYMag.com):

OK, I know it's a bit over the top, but the purple! Oh, the purple. Heart Zoe Saldana:


Rachel McAdams just looked incredibly freaking gorgeous and classy:


Is it weird to have two Mean Girls actresses here? Oh, if only Lindsay Lohan hadn't fallen apart, and could be up here to complete the trifecta. But at least we can console ourselves with Amanda Seyfried's lovely dress:


Queen Latifah has some seriously bad movies out there, but this dress made me more inclined to forgive them:


I almost never like Cameron Diaz's red carpet dresses, or if I do like the dress, I hate the makeup or the hair. But this time, she got everything right:


Which dresses stood out to you last night? Was there anyone who seemed like an obvious walking catastrophe? I honestly can't think of anyone who looked downright terrible.

The Year of the Dog

Dear Montana,

One year ago today, we met you for the first time, in the parking lot of the Denver Women's Correctional Facility. You were delicate, polite, timid. You let us pet you and you were friendly but you were not exactly overjoyed to see us. We later found out that we were your fourth interview. I don't know what in the world could possibly have caused those first three families to decide not to adopt you, but it's our good fortune that they didn't take you.


We watched you in your "go-home" class, going through your training and skills with your inmate handler one last time. We watched you look at us and whine while we waited. You were so graceful in the middle of that group of dogs, so beautiful I cried, and your dad and I both fell in love with you on the spot.

At the end of the go-home class, your handler taught us your commands, what to say and do to get you to do what we wanted. The first time I told you to come, you stared off in the other direction, looking so very innocent that you almost convinced me that you had a hearing problem, even though I was only five feet away from you. But the handler taught me that you were testing me, and eventually I figured out how to pass that test.

After the class, when we'd signed the paperwork and written the check, we walked back out to the parking lot with you. We opened the door to the back seat of our car and tried to cajole you to get in. We patted the seat and made kissy noises and pulled on your collar and even got in the back seat ourselves to show you what to do. You were having none of it, and finally we had to pick you up and lift you into the car. Even then, you sat on the floor instead of on the seat. Mostly, you were just very confused.


When we got home, we walked you up the stairs to our then-apartment. They were those outdoor stairs, made of concrete with gaps between them. You didn't like that at all. You verrrrrry cautiously picked your way up the stairs, and I swear you seemed relieved when we got to the top.

As soon as we got in the apartment, you selected the kitchen floor as your favorite spot. I took photo after photo of you as you sat tentatively. You sniffed around the apartment, sitting under your dad's desk, then under mine, before returning to your spot on the kitchen floor. We showed you all the toys we'd bought for you, but you had zero interest. And you maintained that zero interest for so many months that when you did, just once, chase a ball down the hallway a few times, we had to mark the occasion with a video.


When we got you, you were scared of new surfaces. You wouldn't walk on the tile floor of the bathroom, and when we stayed in a hotel that required us to take an elevator, we had to drag you in--and once you were in, you spent the whole ride crouched low to the ground, shaking. You never barked. You didn't care much about food. You never ate your meals right away, and you often skipped them entirely. You were more interested in hiding treats than eating them. You always wanted to be near us.


But now... oh, the dog that you are now. You love to run and play and wrestle with other dogs. You love to fetch tennis balls. If another dog takes your ball, you will bark and bark and bark until you get it back. You also bark at snowplows, and the UPS guy, and pretty much any loud vehicle that drives by. You eat your meals right away, and then walk around the house with your nose to the floor, scavenging for crumbs to eat as dessert.


You still like to be near us, but you will also go upstairs by yourself to lie in your favorite patch of sun in the mornings. You go in and out of your dog door at will, sprinting around the yard, barking at squirrels and the neighbors' cat, and burying and/or digging up bones and other treats. When you see a squirrel or a cat or a rabbit, you yelp and whine and shake all over.


You love to nuzzle and roll. If we get out a towel, you will immediately come running over to rub your face against it. You hate baths, but the time after a bath when you can roll on a towel in the yard almost makes up for the indignity of being sprayed with water. You could spend hours just rubbing your head against our legs.


You love treats, especially other people's treats. You have still never jumped on anybody (thank god), but you will beg with both front paws in the air if you know that somebody has treats and you think you have a shot in hell of being offered one. Even if there's a whole group of dogs waiting for a treat, you will somehow find your way to the front of the group and sit pretty much on the feet of the person with the treat, wagging just the very tip of your tail.

You love the car, because you know it means you're going somewhere fun. We can't open the door to the garage without you sprinting in there, hoping it's your turn to go for a walk, or a hike, or a run around the dog park. Even if it isn't time to go anywhere, you will do your absolute best to convince us otherwise.


You bark in your sleep. You love to look at your reflection in the shower door. You cock your head when you hear a baby crying on TV. You like to swim, no matter how cold the weather. You roll in mud puddles. You always want to get in other dogs' cars when it's time to leave the dog park. You fart far too frequently for our liking, and you can happily spend hours licking your own ass. Your fur is soft, much softer than it looks.

You aren't that timid dog anymore. You have all the confidence of a dog who knows she is safe and loved and always will be. When I look at you curled up peacefully in your dog bed, or lying on my feet on the couch, it's hard to believe that you are the same dog who just spent an hour wrestling with other dogs in the mud at the park. You are so active, so happy and exuberant, and yet so mellow and peaceful.


But you haven't lost your grace. You are still delicate and beautiful, no matter what you do.

You are our family. And we could not imagine our lives without you.


Love,
Mom

I have always been me

Here's a weird thing about having weight-loss surgery: the compliments.

I don't mind being complimented on my weight loss. "You look great!" or "Congratulations!" and so on... that's fine. It doesn't make me uncomfortable, I know I've lost weight, I know it's visible to others, and that's fine. Feel free to comment on it! I appreciate the kind words.

But choose your words carefully. Positive affirmations about looking good, succeeding, working hard... great. Negative comparisons to how I looked before? Not so great.

Almost nobody says this. But some people do. A sampling of comments I've heard:

• "Gosh, you were so fat before!"
• "I can see the bones in your face now! It used to be SO ROUND!"
• "You really have a defined figure now... before, you were so shapeless!"
• "That coat is too big for you! It looks like you're wearing maternity clothes post-partum!"
• "Wow, it turns out you're really pretty!"

Is it self-explanatory why these comments bother me? Please tell me that it is. Because yeah, I'm really glad to be losing the weight. I'm thrilled about the improvement in my health and fitness, and I'm also happier with how I look. But that doesn't mean that I want to hear people say terrible things about how I used to look. I don't want to know that people were thinking things about me at the time like I was SO FAT, I was shapeless, I had a moon-face, I looked pregnant, I wasn't pretty. How are these things EVER compliments?

As far as I can see, there's only one way in which comments like this could be construed as compliments (and I can tell they are truly intended as such, and not backhanded compliments, either). It's if we totally distance ourselves from our past. It's if we act like the person we were before is a totally different person with a different mind and a different set of feelings, feelings that can't be hurt in the new, improved version of ourselves.

I was reading Holly's post about the loathing with which many of us look back at former versions of ourselves, and it really hit home because I think it's incredibly true when you lose weight. And also other times. Maybe you've become fitter. Maybe you've started dressing better. Maybe you've expanded your education, or done some other great thing to improve yourself.

That's wonderful. I'm all for constant self-improvement and growth. But why do we look back at the person we were BEFORE those improvements with such disdain, such scorn and contempt? We are all the sum of our memories and our experiences. Even if we've done great things recently, it was the person we were before, the person we're looking down on now, who made the choice to do those things. It's us, all of it.

I did a lot of great stuff when I was fatter. I graduated college. I lived on my own. I found a great job. I married a fantastic guy. I moved to the city I want to stay in forever. I got a wonderful dog. I bought an awesome house. I made fabulous friends. I went for hikes and worked out and traveled and enjoyed myself. I was a good, happy, worthwhile person. I haven't become more so just because I'm thinner now. I'm healthier now, but I never felt wildly unhealthy before. My size never made me miserable, and it didn't heavily restrict what I did. I'm very similar now to how I was then. Just a smaller size.

And you know what? The inside, underneath all the fat, or lack thereof? That's me. The same person with the same brain, the same thoughts, the same goals and memories and feelings and priorities. It's not like I lost 75 pounds and forgot who I was. It's not like there was some mythical less-fat version of myself locked up inside me, just waiting to be released. The "thin girl inside you waiting to get out" that we always hear people talking about? That's a myth, at least for me. I never bought into it, because I know you can be happy and fulfilled even if you aren't that thin girl you dream of being.

So yeah, when people make disparaging comments about what I was like a year ago? They're making disparaging comments about me. In a way, it almost feels like they're talking about me behind my back. And it doesn't feel any better to hear it now than it would have if somebody had made those comments to my face a year ago, before I lost the weight.

And what if I ever gain the weight back? Weight-loss surgery isn't some magic bullet that means you'll never have weight issues again. How awful will it be if I do regain some of the weight, to know, to have it confirmed, that people look at me and think terrible things?

I'd like it if we could respect our pasts. Skip regret, and just be glad that we had good lives then and even better lives now. Be glad that those former selves that we are so embarrassed about now had the good sense to keep growing, keep moving forward, keep making good choices. Realize that even if our former selves had different priorities, they weren't wrong priorities. And focus that energy on continuing to grow and move forward, instead of looking back with horror.

And in the meantime, let's all remember that the person you're complimenting now is also the person you were thinking cruel things about from back then. Whether that's someone else or, as is more often the case, yourself.

Musings

• Am I the only one who thinks Lee Dewyze is hot? I mean, OK, you can tell he smoked quite a bit of pot a few years back, but still. HOT. No?
• I love thinking about baby names. Love it. As in, I am dying for the SSA baby names data to be updated with info from 2009. I am super curious to see if the name Nevaeh ("Heaven" backward) holds steady at number 34, or goes up or down.
• (NUMBER THIRTY-FOUR. HEAVEN BACKWARD. AS A NAME. THIRTY-FOURTH MOST POPULAR IN THE COUNTRY. For comparison, the 34th most popular girl name the year I was born was Erica.)
• The place where Torsten gets his hair cut always says at the bottom of the receipt that if he fills out an online survey within 48 hours of his haircut, he'll get a $3 coupon for the next one. He just got a haircut and for the first time he actually remembered to do it in time. So, he typed in the address and... the site doesn't work. It doesn't exist. We double-checked the address and we are definitely typing it in right. Do you think we can call and complain and get the coupon anyway?
• I do not understand, generally speaking, why people get so up in arms about bloggers criticizing corporations. Look, I understand that the Supreme Court seems to think that corporations are equivalent to people, entitled to the same protections as individuals, but I don't agree. They have a lot more money and a lot more resources and a lot of them do a lot of shady, unethical, and/or wrong things to keep that money. So why do people feel the need to defend them as though they are the playground scapegoat? I'm pretty sure they can take care of themselves, you know?
  
• Lee Dewyze. HOT.
  

I want to...

...Complete a triathlon.

...Plant a garden in our backyard with vegetables and flowers.

...Go for a hike in the foothills.

...Get a haircut (nothing drastic... just some layers and shaping).

...Go to France.

...Bake a cake (at this altitude, this is trickier than it sounds).

...Go to Lilith Fair.

...Speak German, like REALLY speak it, not just stumble through it.

...Eat some pineapple. And maybe some peaches.

...Finish hanging the pictures we already have framed. And frame a few more.

...Try the Dior mascara that everyone is always raving about.

...Play fetch with Montana.

...See my best friend.

...Play tennis with Torsten.

...Go to Japan.

What do YOU want to do?

Resolution Review: Two Months In

Oh, I love how February is exactly four weeks long, and therefore the days in March are the same as days in February. Because here we are. Again, it's Monday AND the first of the month. So again, the perfect time for a another resolution review.

1. Get our finances in order. We are still doing well here. In terms of Torsten's business expenses, so far we've come in under or at budget for every item. I'm sure that down the road there will be something expensive that we hadn't thought about, but the careful planning for the items we did think about will allow us the padding to more easily absorb that issue when it does arise.

As far as personal expenditures go, we have done very well staying within budget. We actually came in $50 below budget for groceries this month, and I am incredibly happy about that. In terms of non-budgeted items, this month we purchased:

• A pair of jeans for me, because mine are all getting too big ($19)
• A pair of flip-flops for Torsten, because his broke ($3)
• Prints of a few photos of Montana to send with a thank-you note to the inmate who trained her over Thanksgiving ($2)
• Postage stamps ($9)

That brings us to a total of $33 in unexpected expenses this month. Now, I'm sure at some point some sort of major expensive catastrophe will occur, and we'll need to spend a ton of money on it. So, for now, it is awesome that we are managing to stick so closely to our budget. Hopefully, this will lessen the blow when something expensive breaks down the line. Overall, this month: WIN.

2. Start working on obtaining a child. Still not talking about this one here. In fact, I'm thinking generally I'm going to try not to talk about this one quite so much, or think about it quite so much. I think it's only making the waiting worse. I need to just move on, know that it will happen when the timing is right, and focus on other things in the meantime. We'll see how this goes.

3. Help Torsten advance in his career. Other than the obvious (becoming the sole breadwinner while he works to get his business off the ground), I'm also trying to help in small ways. I attend meetings with him. I track expenses in QuickBooks. I write white papers to post on the company website. I encourage him to work when he needs to without feeling guilty about it, and I also drag him outside for some exercise and fresh air occasionally. And I've taken on more of the regular household stuff so that he can focus on his company.

I actually don't mind most of it. I'm still struggling with figuring out the sacrifices that I am and am not comfortable with, but if there are things that aren't working for me, I'm still able to express them, and he's still open to hearing them. So, for now, this is good.

4. Spruce up the house. This is still mostly on hold, but we are planning on painting the room that was Torsten's office. We've figured out what we want to do, and hopefully in March we'll actually get started on picking paint colors and maybe even actually doing some painting.

5. Be more deliberate about our food. This is going AWESOME. We ate out once this month, again, and it was again with a business partner who paid for the dinner. Other than that, we're cooking. Lots of healthy delicious meals and even some organic ingredients and fruit. And we're under budget. I imagine that even once Torsten has an income again, we'll continue to be much more frugal with our grocery budget. It was enjoyable to do what we did before, shopping indiscriminately at Whole Foods and eating out whenever we wanted, and certainly we will relax the restrictions once we can afford to do so, but we were wasteful before, and there's no need to be like that again, no matter how much money we have.

So! Another successful month! I do think it's easier to focus on resolutions in the winter, though, when not much else is going on. We'll see how things progress as we move into spring. Which will be this month, right? Please tell me we'll see some spring weather this month. I mean, the groundhog saw his shadow. That means no early spring and instead six weeks more of winter. But that was almost four weeks ago! Only two weeks left of winter! RIGHT?