What’s your favorite article of clothing?
** My new jeans from Mark Shale in Chicago that I wore in the photo shoot.

Who was the last person you hugged?
*** My ‘Bert (I don’t care that he’s not technically a person).

What’s your favorite dinner?
*** Tapas or Thai – toss up!

What was the last thing you bought?
*** Coffees for J and I at Dunkin this morning.

What are you listening to right now?
*** Sounds of the office….

What is your favorite weather?
*** Bright, crisp, fall weather.  (<- I second you, Nancy!)

What is your least favorite season?
*** Gray, freezing winter weather.  (<- On this too!)

Who do you admire the most?
*** I admire various people for various reasons.

Say something to the person who tagged you:
*** Nancy is one of the most determined, upbeat people I know.

What is your favorite dessert or cool treat?
*** Not a sweets fan.
What did you want to be as a child?
*** A ballerina, a lawyer, an architect, and an electrical engineer – in that order.

What do you want to be now?
*** Content with my life now, wherever “now” happens to be.

What is your favorite song?
***I don’t actually have one right this second. I’m looking to listen to something new and haven’t found *it* yet!

Which is you favorite country/state, and why?
*** Country – Italy or France.  For a state, I’d have to say Massachusetts.

If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
*** Shopping. Can I have some money to spend, too?

What are your most challenging goals right now?
*** As always – finances and eating habits.

What is your 5 year plan?
*** Hmm. 37. Ouch. Somewhere in a college town, far from DC, probably with a similar job to mine now, one kid, cute old house with a decent yard, miscellaneous pets.

What is your favorite sport to watch?
*** I don’t have a favorite sport, but I like watching Purdue football and Red Sox baseball.

What show would you want to be a cast member on (reality included)?
*** Dancing with the Stars

What is your most prized possession?
*** My sanity. Most of the time. My health. All of the time.

Name one favorite childhood memory.
*** Camping with my family in East Hampton.

What is your favorite book of the Bible?
*** N/A

What is your favorite quote?
*** ” I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning to sail my own ship.” – Louisa May Alcott

So, J’s at a meeting, working late tonight. I offered to cook up a nice dinner if he’d get the chicken marinating last night. Normally on Thursdays we do something quick. And – I’m looking forward to a nice dinner, made by ME.

I have no idea how the thought process started, but I realized I am so much more motivated to do things when I’m home alone. Something. Anything. In fact, I relish it.

When J’s there, I just feel like a sloth. And I feel guilty about it, too, of course. Part of it is because he lets me not do anything. He takes too good care of me.

Is that possible?

“Honey, stop cooking me dinner or washing the dishes, because if you do it, I’ll let you.”

When I lived alone, I did all kinds of things. Cleaned. Cooked. Hung pictures and blinds. Painted. Assembled furniture. Moved large objects. Changed my oil in my car. Washed its wheels with a toothbrush. Sloth I was NOT.

But, now that I have someone who takes care of me, I don’t do any of those things very often. When J’s not around, I just fall into doing those things again, like I never stopped.

When did I get to be so spoiled and lazy? I’m feeling like a bad partner. It’s unhealthy for our relationship to let this perpetuate, even if he’s OK with it. I’m not OK with it.

Well. Just about everyone I can think of has posted something regarding their thoughts on Tuesday’s inauguration. Simply, I have nothing novel to add. It was very strange, sitting in my living room watching the events unfold on TV – a mere 20 miles from the event itself. No work that day (bonus!) – no way to get into DC!

On NPR that morning, while I was running around doing errands, I heard the newscasters say that of the 1.1 million (-ish) people there, it seemed like 98% were black. People remarked at how disappointing that was, seeing as Obama’s winning this election was a celebration of our progress as a country, not just the celebration of African-Americans. I can see that – but the black contingent of the American population certainly has a LOT to celebrate.

My thoughts as I went through that afternoon were surprisingly tied into my Word. The US is terribly unhealthy. In our management of international relations, we have been stuck somewhere around 2001. Even our outgoing president referred repeatedly to his successes during that time and in our response to terror as the highlights of what he did “right.” All the while, inside our borders, our country has been eating itself alive. Financially, through poor behavior on the parts of greedy banks and companies, and on the parts of people who felt they “had a right” to own a home even if they really couldn’t afford it. Physically, through years of people thinking that for a car, “bigger is better” – and then panicking when gas prices rose (as seriously, we all had to know they eventually would). “Bigger is better” in homes, TVs, clothes (designer labels), toys for our kids, attitudes.

WE ARE AMERICAN, IT IS OUR RIGHT TO HAVE THIS STUFF.

I had my first inklings of this thought process when I was in Europe. Quite frankly – I was ashamed to be American. Ashamed of what we have come to stand for. And when the economy tanked, part of me thought “YES – now we will pay for the damage we have collectively done, and for our poor attitudes and entitlement complexes.” I’m guilty of it too, for sure.
From these, lowest of lows inside the US, there came a ray of light in the form of a man who can incite passion and excitement in people just by his demeanor. And he came promising the possibility of hope and change.

On Tuesday, he spoke of the hard work ahead. Truthfully, there is more work than one man can do, than even all of us can do in his one term. But he offered to guide us down that path, and I believe that his unique gifts are what our country needs most right now: something good to believe in. Expectations for him are high, as well they should be. But, we should be setting our expectations for ourselves that high as well – he can’t do this alone, nor should we expect him to. (Cue the YouTube video I’m sure everyone has seen)

We have a “doctor” to guide us, so I’m ready to do my part and take my “medicine” if it means that we’ll have our country healthy again – and someplace I can be proud of – sometime in the foreseeable future.

You know who you are. You, the one who’s been taking those cute pictures of your newly-svelte self in the bathroom every day in those stunning new clothes of yours.

If I had a few more seconds and there weren’t a gaggle of women coming, I would have redrawn the note so it read correctly in the mirror. But – you get the idea. (And see that soap? That’s only a tiny bit of what’s hanging out on that counter!)

While you can’t see my zits, you can see my well-tucked, afternoon hair. Talk about a bad habit resulting in crappy hair by the end of the day.

I’m not as cool as you, though. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

With another doctor’s appointment this past Tuesday (a gastroenterologist this time), I’ve really been spending this week thinking about the physical interpretation of health. I’ve been dealing with some issues that seem to enjoy masquerading as other things . After that little adventure a couple of months back, I decided to keep a food journal and track what I ate and my symptoms – my doctor was suspecting IBS, hence the GI doc, and I decided I’d had enough and would wait until after the holidays.

Well, the GI doc? Everything one would expect, and none of it good. More poking, tests, prodding, various unpleasantries. Agressive testing, in my opinion, that as he was talking about it, I found myself feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

Like, NO WAY AM I SIGNING ON FOR THAT.

Driving home with the knowledge that he, too suspects IBS, but “just wants to rule out other things,” I became suddenly philosophical.

How much is too much? This is MY body, MY medical care – it’s not what HE wants, it’s what I feel is best for me. If, on a scale of 1 to 10 where higher number = BAD, he wants to run a test on me that – all things considered (monetary cost, time, anxiety, discomfort), I rank as a 7, and it does not guarantee an answer, and further, how I FEEL is a 3, well then…simple cost / benefit.

I’ve already had a bunch of tests. If there was something really wrong, they would have seen it. Upon reading up on IBS, I don’t have any of the “alarm” symptoms. Only the classic ones. So – am I content to move ahead just knowing what I know now, or to I want to do every test on the planet to validate that? If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it’s probably a duck. I don’t need to run up to it and grab it to be 200% sure. I’m OK with 90%.

I’m OK with 90%. That’s a big step.

IBS is something that is managed, not cured. It will not kill me. If they were suspecting something damaging, something that would kill me, then I would want to know and I damn well would want it fixed. But I’m 31, not 70, so don’t run all those tests on me that you run on all those elderly people in the waiting room just because it’s what you do. I appreciate thoroughness, but COME ON.

My whole life, I have done whatever doctors think should be done. I trust them, almost implicitly because – well – they’re doctors. In this particular case, though….I left feeling not so trusting. I’m questioning. And for the first time, I feel that that is healthy to do. This is MY world, squirrel.

I don’t know what my deal is today with animals, but this realization is PROGRESS.