Budget whoas, not Budget woes.

When the man lost his job in October, serious cutbacks ensued.

It was a shocker.

We knew it was coming, but did not really expect it to happen so soon.

Budget cuts were a must as we were headed into spending season.

No more shopping trips just for the sake of filling time.

No more daily lunch dates.

Fine. I was bored with it anyway.

When he finally found work, my 'ME' money was restored at 50%.

Fine, I get it.

When my body revolution started in January, all my 'ME' money went to the professional.

I loved it.

It was focused.

It was productive.

It was positive.

It was a win-win for everyone.

In retrospect, I would have to say that we were much more prepared for the October layoff.

The March job loss caught us off guard.

In October we had ten years of savings & fifteen years of steady employment to fall back on.

And we did.

This time, last week... not so much.

It was time to trim the fat. Again.

We had already learned to budget better.

This time, we were going to new extremes.

Uncharted territory.

We were going to have to live like some of the people we admire from afar, but never fully comprehend.

Fine, it's for the good of the team.

But it sucks.

This time I have something much more valuable to cut.

I've already cut out the lunch dates, shopping trips, and Starbucks.

But this one hurts.

It didn't hurt my pride. That was gone the second I hit 220.

It just plain hurts.

I have to cut the professional.

I have to cut the one thing that keeps me waking up at 4 a.m. every Monday, Wednesday, & Friday.

I have to cut the one and only person that challenges me.

I have to cut the ONE person that I cannot manipulate.

The one person that can push me to my very best.

The one person to whom I can text my PMS questions.

The one person I can text at midnight for remedies to stomach problems.

My professional trainer, my nutritionist, general practitioner, physical therapist, counselor, and my knitting buddy.

Gone. (Insert pout.)

Luckily, thankfully, he is an understanding being.

He is still on duty.

He is still within texting range.

He is very much a professional.

I know lessons will be learned from this.

For example:

I had gotten into the mindset that I didn't have to work out if it wasn't a training day.

That's not an option right now.

Now, I have no training days.

Movement is up to me.

So far, so good.

Anything is Possible & Other Cliches

I'm wide awake.

At 3 a.m.

I'm listening to the awesome 'Road Trip' play list that I made for last weeks adventure.

This is the first time I have gotten to listen to it for more than 2 minutes.

Between the princess' requests and the boy's silence there was not time for my music.

I don't want to get caught in what I'm doing at this hour.

I'm focused on why I'm up at 3 a.m.

It's not the trip. That was fabulous.

Kids were great. Family was beautiful.

I stayed on track with my diet and exercises...mostly.

Mostly.

Remember those silly motivational posters in classrooms?

This one that has ALWAYS stood out in my mind.

"Some people watch what happened. Some people make things happen. Some wonder what happened."

For some reason, I committed that one poster to memory.

Made it my mantra from the 4th grade up.

I am always swirling around making things happen.

Good or bad.

None of the other posters had an impression on this young impressionable girl.

While I was running around making things happen, in my life, I forgot to stop and take inventory.

When I came home last week, things were just as unraveled as they were when I left.

Nothing had changed.

I had a fresh view of a mess that was unfolding in my own home.

I could no longer claim immunity on the smell of failure that had surrounded me.

Yes, I have been making positive changes in my life.

Yes, I have stayed committed to the professional and our partnership.

Yes, I have been spending more time with people that lift me up.

Lots of good.

Some not-so-good too.

I try to follow my fabulous Uncle's advice to be circumspect.

Sometimes, I forget.

In order to get back on track, I look to the one place got me through so far.

Elementary school walls.

This time I will be more circumspect and take note of all the posters.

I'm already getting better at this one...



Ain't that the truth! Can I get an Amen?!



I can start things all day long... Is there a poster about quitting?

Got it, Don't quit. Even though I really want to.

Yes, yes, I hear it... No quitting.

Build? With our stones? Brilliant!

Change is hard...but anything is possible.



I have always said that if I could have a do-over in life I would start in elementary school. 

Probably because I believe that is where I fell apart.

Maybe I will have a do-over.

I'll soak in some of the advice that is meant for young minds.

I'll focus on the girl jumping the hurdle, the silly fonts, and the chiseled stone.

Road rules & work outs.

Spring Break week.

 

Major challenge ahead.

 

I'll be in the car for 14 hours with two kids.

 

I will drive across four states.

 

I will spend several days in my fabulous aunt's beautiful home.

 

I will entertain two kids for 12 hours each day without my usual resources.

 

All that will be a breeze.

 

I have the knowledge and training to handle that.

 

I have always been told not to stop for hitchhikers.

 

Everyone knows not to talk to strangers.

 

Maintain death-grip on kids while in gas stations.

 

Use restaurant bathrooms, not gas station bathrooms.

 

Make sure someone knows where and when you stop and when you get going.

 

Pack DVD player, DVDs, markers, paper, markers, lipstick, etc.

 

Snacks...check.

 

Road trip will be a breeze.

 

The challenge, the test of my strength and sanity, is completely different.

 

This week I will be without the professional.

 

No co-dependent behavior for the next seven days.

 

This will be a major change of routine and a test of where I am in my growth.

 

This week I will have to think: Don't talk to strangers, check air pressure in tires, do 100 squats, eat appropriately.

 

After a brief break because of my knee, my work-outs have become increasingly intense.

 

My two minutes of Tabata are a thing of the past.

 

Hitler death march is recess for me.

 

My work-outs are intense.

 

I sweat. I stink. I love it.

 

This is no time for me to go soft.

 

I know that the next time I see the professional he will have the same expectations of me and my endurance as he had the week before.

 

Just because I'm on vacation, doesn't mean I'm on vacation.

 

This is a permanent life-style change, not a fad. Not a phase.

 

My challenge this week will be getting up and doing what I should do.

 

This week, my thinking will have to change.

 

Get up, brush my teeth, go potty, go into work-out room.

 

Even when nobody is looking.

Uncle H

One year ago I received a call that changed my life.

 

My uncle had been murdered.

 

He had not been out looking for trouble.

 

He wasn't doing anything he wasn't suppose to be doing.

 

He wasn't a trouble maker.

 

He didn't hang around the wrong crowd.

 

He was a dignified man. A proper respectable man.

 

He was an intelligent and hard working man.

 

He was shot in his home.

 

He was shot by a male that is none of those things.

 

His death was essentially a school yard fight over a girl.

 

The past year has been a surreal labyrinth of emotions.

 

Neither murder nor sudden death are the norm for my family.

 

There was absolute shock, no doubt.

 

Denial wasn't an option.

 

The immediate absences of my uncle's profound and engaging spirit made it impossible to deny.

 

Silence and sadness fill a space he once owned.

 

There was comfort in the days that followed.

 

His colleagues and former students offered constant reminders of the powerful and gentle being that he was.

 

His friends emanated his laughter and his humor.

 

Being in New Mexico was like being surrounded by him and his spirit.

 

Despite what had happened, there was peace there.

 

 

This tree was planted on the university campus he loved.

 

 

Friends have said, repeatedly, "I can't imagine what it's like..."

 

For me, this is what it's like to have a loved one murdered:

 

I constantly wonder why.

 

I wonder what his last words were.

 

Did he feel pain?

 

Did he think everything was going to be OK?

 

Was this woman worth his life?

 

Was she as wonderful to him as he deserved?

 

Did he have a wonderful day that day?

 

Was he concerned about what his family might see or find?

 

He was a master of words, did the murderer hear something that he needs to tell us?

 

It happened to him, could it happen to me or the kids?

 

In addition to the unanswered questions there are the, "I wish I could.."

 

I wish I could email him and ask him a question about Sherlock Holmes that the boy needs answered.

 

I need to ask him for the Greek word for the ending of a play.

 

I know he knew I loved him, but did he know how much he meant to me?

 

I wish I could ask him if he heard Cold Play's newest song.

 

Did he see that last email I sent?

 

I wish I could call him and ask him when he was coming to visit.

 

I wish I could tell him what life is like without him.

 

Spring break is coming up- can we meet and do something?

 

The kids say the funniest things....He would laugh.

 

 

 

At great niece's wedding. Always a smile.

 

 

I have also been asked what I felt or what I would say to the murderer if I was given the opportunity.

 

Here it is:

 

You didn't murder a man was involved in your psychotic love triangle.

 

You didn't win the game by murdering them.

 

You didn't prove anything to anybody.

 

You murdered a brother, a son, an uncle.

 

You murdered a man that loved his family.

 

You murdered a man that is loved by his family. Dearly.

 

You murdered a professor that inspired young minds.

 

You murdered a son that loved and cared for his mother.

 

You murdered a brother that laughed with his siblings.

 

You murdered an uncle that loved his nieces and nephews as if they were his own children.

 

You murdered the man that could answer any question, about anything, at any given moment.

 

You murdered a man that learned his life lessons and was at peace in life.

 

You murdered a man that had endearing names for his nieces and nephews.

 

You murdered a man that never forgot a birthday or a holiday.

 

You murdered a man that loved babies.

 

You murdered a peaceful man.

 

You murdered a man that spoke seven different languages.

 

You murdered a humble man.

 

You murdered a man that was bigger and better than you.

 

You murdered a man that you could never be.

 

You murdered a man that would never stoop to a love triangle.

 

You murdered a man that Stefania knew was better than you.

 

You murdered a man that was so much more than this stupid psychotic jealousy triangle.

 

You murdered a man that prayed with you before you killed him.

 

But I think you already know all this.

 

That's why you murdered him.

 

 

Another great niece. A great great uncle.

 

  

I heard once that evil requires no forgiveness. I don't know that yet.

 

I have not gotten to the point of forgiveness. I still won't allow myself to accept that someone else did this.

 

 

 

  

 

In my quest through the labyrinth of emotions this year I have really tried to focus on what lesson can be learned.

 

As I sat crying over my cup of coffee in the kitchen, yesterday, my princess asked why I was crying.

 

I told her that I missed my uncle and that he was in Heaven. I told her that I wanted him here.

 

She replied, "I'm here, mommy."

 

That's the answer.

 

It's that simple.

 

That is the lesson to be learned from this.

 

Celebrate what is here. Enjoy the love that is here.

 

Nothing else deserves that energy or focus.

 

Just love.

 

Never let an opportunity to hug or love pass you by.

The Id & the Ego

I've mentioned the hunter.

There is another dog.

He's an Eeyore.

They are my Id and my Ego.

I know if they were combined they would be one very powerful force.

The hunter:

She is fierce.

She's a hunter.

Guarding the fence.

She is a master at her craft.

She is stealth. She is patient.

She is calculating.

She is loyal.

A good mommy.

She is independent.

She is constantly on the move.

Can't get a picture of her unless she's sleeping or hunting.

She is restless.

She knows how to make an entrance.

You always know when she has left the room.

She has high standards and will not compromise.

She is beautiful.

Always has an eye out for something.

She has a mean bark.

She is a fighter.

She can stop you in your tracks.

On duty.

Sometimes, she's a loose cannon.

Sometimes, she doesn't know her own strength.

Sometimes, she doesn't know when to stop.

And then there's the other dog...

The Eeyore:

Standard position.

He is a lover.

He's a cuddler.

He's easy like Sunday morning.

Sleeping.

He can go with any flow.

He is ALWAYS right there.

He'll roll over upon approach.

 

Standard position.

He's goofy.

He's lazy.

Work out: Move to comfy spot on couch.

He is loyal to the one that has something to offer.

Cuddling.

Sometimes, his best efforts are walking just far enough off the porch to find a patch of grass.

His daily routine is moving from resting spot to resting spot.

He knows when it is time to eat.

He is not picky.

Anyone with a pulse will do...

He does things he knows he is not suppose to do... Then feels terrible about it.

Somehow, if these two forces could come together,

if the power could be harnessed,

its faults controlled,

it would be an powerful unstoppable force.