Thursday, February 14, 2013

Youth group had a masquerade night.  Mardi Gras?  Valentine's?  I dunno, but my lovely Lily won Best Costume.  This is Scotty dressed up with Michael, their one constant through the parade we've witnessed recently of youth pastors, on our third one now.  Michael has always been involved with the youth group and there for my kids who all adore him, his wife, his kids, and his mom, Brenda.

"You have that way about you, a way to influence people, " my almost 32 year old Marcela texted me yesterday.  One of her bank customers had just been reminiscing about her, that he'd known her for 25 years, watched her grow up, we were talking before our Wednesday night Bible series, but Marcela had been referring to my vegan post of yesterday.

Well?  Bottom line?  Every woman wants to lost weight, so this'll be the tact I'll take, the tempting path to a plant-based diet, right?

I guarantee if you ditch meat-eating you will lose weight.  If folks only promise to do Meatless Mondays, I'll be happy.  I know everyone is not this radical.
Would you eat this dog?  This monkey?  No?  Then why would you eat a pig or a cow?  Am I way too simplistic?  So what?

I'd lose weight too if I'd count calories, but I don't wanna do so.  I'd prefer my weight to be under 130, like Sarah, but whatever.  I'm too old to care that much anymore.  Extra weight fills out the wrinkles on my face. Win-win.  All the extra calories I eat are all heathy ones.  I can live with a weight of 132.  Hope it stays there though.

Marcela is out of Fire Hot Pepper Sauce.  "I have more," I'd told her, thinking ahead that I'm gonna spend the rest of my life making sure that those who want it will always get my organic jalapeno sauce constantly supplied by me, unlimited, if nothing else than to boost their immune system.  It's gratifying to me to share this bliss.  I want them to all be healthy.  Duh.

Marcela ate what she wanted though her 20s, returned to vegetarianism lately as she had proved to her own self that it was much more healthy way of life.  She has a wonderful husband, Curtis, and an extremely beautiful daughter, Marissa.  Why wouldn't she want to be healthy and strong for them?  Another big Duh.

I do need to remind them all to save these canning jars and bring 'em back to me to be re-used.  I pick up tons of them at yard sales, but we go through them like crazy.  I'd just sent a quart home with Daniel and his gorgeous wife, Megan.

I'd been super gratified as a special friend emailed me yesterday, "Thanks to you my family went vegetarian beginning of the year and vegan after watching the videos.  I ordered the Forks over Knives video to share with my staff..they are still in shock that I made this change.  I did lab work when I started and will repeat next month before doctor appointment...will be interesting."

I can't begin to tell y'all how good this makes me feel.  Especially since the majority of folks surrounding me wanna rebel.  I found a coke can here while I was cleaning up.  I'd almost rather see a crack pipe.  Oh puh-leeze, I'm just kidding, but I despise, detest and simply flat out hate those brown chemicals that have pushed millions into adult onset type 2 diabetes.  The evidence is clear.  It might be easier to kick crack than to stop drinking coke.

I told you I was radical.

In my oatmeal recipe yesterday?  I forgot the addition of oat bran, coconut and walnuts.

I'd already talked once yesterday to Vanessa, now 22, can y'all believe it?  When my caller ID lit up with her name last night, I grabbed it, always afraid that something's wrong, thank you PTSD.

"Mom," she began.


"I was walking behind Simba the lion and he was wasling way too slow," she stated.

"So?" I took the bait.

"I told him to Mufasa!" she fell out cackling.

Oh my.  I then repeated it to a patent attorney at church later who chuckled, the stress of his week rolling off of him due to laughing..

I'd also read yesterday where a psychiatrist wants to change PTSD to PTSI as an illness rather than a disorder.  Interesting.  Illnesses can be cured, right?  I want to believe so.

I wish y'all could see the size of the salad I eat.  I'll eat all the florets off of several stalks of broccoli, or an entire head of chopped up cauliflower, several bell peppers chopped up, wishing hugely tat I'd picked 'em, gasping at the store prices, I'll chop up a couple dozen large radishes, add sunflower seeds, balsamic vinegar and a dash of Fire Hot Pepper Sauce and it takes about an hour to carefully chew up all this.  It's my time, maybe, to check Facebook and see what the rest of the world is doing.

I'm about to have a cow to get back out in the gardens, again we're gonna have a cold snap weekend where the temperatures stay down in the 40s during the day.  Yuck.

One of my grown daughters has been paying the rent where two of her birth sibs also live but they don't work.  "I'm tired of this," she told me, after having spent a couple of months trying to nag them into responsibility-taking.  "Seriously?  I pay the rent and she screams at me?"  Welcome to my world I didn't say.

But I do know how she feels.

Another kid asking me, "What do I say to a friend who's fighting a depressing sense of failure with his life?"

Oh my, the kid is 16, in a two parent family, stable and secure.  First world problems.  Not very sensitive of me, is it?

"Just tell him to face today and not fret over tomorrow," I advised, withholding my commentary about middle class problems.

One day at a time, wise counsel.  I know, I, too, have wondered how to continue on sometimes, it's never easy under all this stress, but I've always known I could easily do another day.

"Good idea," the kid told me, texting rapidly.

Depression has been rampant lately, I've counseled several grown kids through it.  Or I've tried to do so.

In one case it's been very situational, the consequences of his behavior raining down upon him, making him feel he has few options other than to blame bad luck.  Another grown son floundering through life, calling me just about every day from another state, his severe diagnoses crippling every aspect of his life.

"Think I'd qualify for an SSI check?  The crazy check?" he asked me.

yeah, I do.  Based on his many, many psychiatric hopsital;izations, very long stays, his diagnoses, his prison stint, his many arrests and his inabilities to function day by day?  Yeah, this SSI was made for folks like him.  These aren't necessarily just bad choices, this is a severe mental illness that policemen do recognize as they see it ften, but are powerless to hekp them avoid the consequnces of their erratic behavior.

It's baffling and very sad.

"Thanks a lot, Mom," he responded, but he busted out laughing.  I've always liked his laughter, it's very contagious.

Well did he think I'd deny that he has mental illness?  I bore the brunt of it for many years, even ending up with a protective order, yet he's not even the one who left bruises on me.

Still in PTSD recovery too, but needing to support the two grandsons I adopted, I continue doing adoptions.  My focus is on placing the older kids who still desperately want to be adopted.  Sure makes a difference do the every Friday night support groups for adults and kids...keeps it real. But I sure understand your feelings. 

Keep teaching your "blog groupies"!

Words from a social worker baptised by fire in that she too adopted from the system and reaped the rewards of alternating Hell and happiness.

I'm glad that she can still support adoption.  That I'm still standing ought to be reason enough for me to encourage others to do this, but I need some more time to continue healing emotionally.  I know I've been in a two year slump.  I see it.  I feel I failed two of my teenagers when I demanded family safety, but I also saw no other option at all.


Zip.  Zero.

One specifically targheted Nando, the other targeted everyone and everything, I had no choice, but that doesn't mean I don't grieve while I enjoy this safety.  Conflicting feelings battling within me, but I know that i know that I know that I know, it was the right thing to do.