Favorite Stories and Conscious Eating

Yum! Sausage cheese balls! I love Paula Dean's recipes (not her, though) - I do this stupid little impersonation of her (I crack myself up) in my southern accent a la Mississippi: "Ok, let's get started. We'll need a pound of lard." You can't beat her for comfort food, that's a fact. Speaking of which, we're having chili and cornbread tonight over at S&T's to celebrate M's birthday again. T made him a chocolate cake and invited us over so I made some spicy chili to bring. It's not all that cold here today but it's gloomy.

"Oh my goodness, how did that happen?" is a phrase I use all the time. It makes me smile every time I say it. I also say "Hey! That's my boyfriend!" if you happen to remember that one. No wonder I constantly repeat movie lines, I repeat lines from my own life.

I love your story about the autistic girl in your class. I think I would have laughed, appropriate or not. That's hilarious. And a warm memory to keep next to your heart when you hate teenagers and/or teaching. Last year, this kid K, whose parents I've known forever and who really is a good kid, was walking in front of me to lunch one day. Suddenly, he spits on the sidewalk. I look at him like he's crazy and I say, "K. Seriously. Did you just spit on the sidewalk where everybody is walking?" He says "Don't worry, nobody's going to walk there." I say, "And why not?" His reply: "There's spit on the sidewalk." I laughed about that for days. That's the kind of wit for which I can truly give a young person credit, and not even get mad.

So are you going to tell me the story behind the brass cafe? I love it. As soon as I figure out how to do it, I'll share some prized possessions of my own. I'm sort of bummed, since I had award winning petunias all summer long, but now they're dying and look rather ragged. I've never put that much work into my front garden before and I had the best summer admiring it every day. I've vowed to do it every year now since I got so many compliments on it. Sorry if I sound like I'm bragging - I'm so not. The funny thing is that I'm about the worst gardener on earth; not only do I really dislike it (it's just tedious) I don't really have an eye for it. S is practically a master gardener and has a yard that looks like a Sunset magazine spread every year. I usually just let her tell me what to do. But this year, I did it all by myself and voila! I'm not so bad! At any rate, that's what I would share a picture of, if I had one back in August or so when it was all beautiful.
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I think I'm going to send you this book when I finish it. It is making a huge impact on me, as I think I said before. One of the main points I've learned is to eat consciously. Today I have eaten everything consciously, even though it's hard to do. You have to be quiet and still and not be reading or listening to the tv or anything. And in the beginning, it's best to practice by eating alone. It's mostly boring, but I swear it works. This morning I made an English muffin and only ate 3/4 of it before I was full. And I knew when I was full! Wow, novel concept. At lunch, I ate an ear of corn and two taquitos, and was done. Normally, I would have scarfed about four taquitos and some chips and dip and then the three leftover chocolate chip cookies and probably something else if I could find it, all in about five minutes flat. The idea of sitting down and eating everything on a plate, woah! Tasting the taste, feeling the texture, enjoying and savoring every bite. It's really foreign to me, but the slowing down cuts my quantity intake by half at least. I eat most of my calories standing up, which I believe my mother taught me to do, as I wrote in some piece I did years ago.

I am still practicing my positive self talk too. That's hard when M and I are battling, but I'll tell you what. I am a good parent who loves and protects her kids. I give my kids lots of freedoms and lots of attention and I have never abandoned them. I try not to be hurtful or emotionally damaging, although I'm sure they're all going to need therapy at some point, no matter how hard I try. I think about M's dad and, although maybe it's not fair to make comparisons, I think I rock. I am a f***ing stellar mom. (Can you believe he didn't even call M on his birthday? What a supreme loser.) I shelter and feed and clothe and adore my boys, so when M gets all twisted up over me asking "invasive" questions, why should I feel bad? I know I'm right and I know he's 16; I need to keep that in the front of my mind and not let his little manipulations get to me. The fact that I'm sure he's smoking pot and getting into all kinds of trouble with these new friends he has is another issue altogether, which I'd love to discuss, but I have to go make cornbread. Not, mind you, to dull out my emotions with food, but because we're leaving in an hour and I should probably get it started. :)

Hope you had a good Sunday and look forward to reading tomorrow, maybe!
Love,
A