Adventures in the Park

The other morning I woke up and, still wiping my eyes, toddled over to the computer to check messages. This was when Facebook took it upon itself to remind me that I had an anniversary coming up – that day. Who knew.

The husband and I agreed for our anniversary we would upgrade my phone so we could play Pokemon Go together. I’m not a big fan of Pokemon, but I am a small fan of finding ways to do moderate exercise without getting bored. I’ve tried all sorts of programs. So that’s what we’ve been doing the past few days: playing Pokemon Go in the evening when the heat releases its hold on the world a bit. Late evening. Okay. Night, right before bedtime.

I have no idea if this latest exercise weight loss scheme is working yet. I’m not holding my breath or anything.

DSC00027All in all it’s been a pretty active few days, though. Another bit of action happened yesterday. We took ourselves to the park for a bit of filming. Good stuff! After looking at our footage – more test footage than anything – I’ve decided to go in a different direction with this planned short piece though. I don’t normally rewrite things, but this piece is meant to be 100% improv so I have this peanut butter freedom a script doesn’t normally afford in my world.

I do love making film as a hobby, and although I have no intention of going full tilt with the things I do let’s face it: I’m headed that way fast. The Mohegan Project is growing, and I have all of these ideas (and so little time). The husband has also been bitten by the creation bug. I’m practically tearing his jaw off while pulling at the reins. Whoah, Nellie!

For now I’m trying to concentrate solely on this one little idea while planning the other 2 for the future. Y’all know that when I plan for the future, this sometimes means the far future. I won’t bore you with another update on my usual projects: it seems to be all I talk about on this blog, I swear.

The only drawback to increasing the level of my physical activity is that my schedule gets thrown completely off, and it’s hard for me to keep work going at a steady pace. Today I woke up at a classic 6 AM despite my best efforts, though, which generally means the switch in my head that puts things back on track has been flipped. I’m good for that.

But yet here I sit, wondering what I’m supposed to be doing right now. The truth is I don’t like to start work until around 1:30, which is when the husband goes back to work after coming home for lunch. Hrm.

Too Big for my Britches

Funny thing about survival: you can get so caught up in it you lose the time you need for everything else.  That’s how it is for a lot of us who work for ourselves, sometimes at the cost of our health. We work hard, very hard, and free time stops being when we punch out of the clock at five in the evening. Free time turns into once a month when the cell phone blissfully stays silent and we’ve gotten our work caught up enough that we feel comfortable in stopping to watch t.v. for a few hours.

I think this past weekend highlighted for me more than ever the price I paid for freedom. It being Thanksgiving, I thought perhaps I would be left alone on Thursday at the very least. Thanksgiving is purely an American holiday – it started out as thanks for a bountiful harvest in America’s early beginnings, became a New England fall festival tradition over the generations, and wasn’t made a “legal” holiday until President Roosevelt. For many native Americans like myself, it happens around our own season for fall festivals so that the two are slowly becoming intertwined. While other Americans are eating turkey, some Americans are hanging all week long at a powwow.  This means that Thanksgiving time for some of us is also a religious holiday.

So this year for Thanksgiving we started off our festivities on Thursday morning by throwing popcorn into the fire. Then we stampeded into the kitchen, cooked our hearts out, and ate. And then we ate again while watching the t.v. (not football).  And sure enough, the emails piled in from people who wanted to know where I was, why their work wasn’t being delivered, and completely ignoring the fact that it was a holiday.

“The cooperate mentality has gotten too big for its britches,” I grumbled to myself, and IMHO it’s true. When I was little, in the 1970’s, things shut down from Thursday until Sunday on Thanksgiving – which by the way is a good and proper length for a festival. You didn’t pester families on their day off unless you were visiting. You didn’t force your employees to work on Thursday at the very least. It was a day of thanks and rest, and people got to do just that.

(Of course, without the dollar store being open that Thursday morning I wouldn’t have been able to run out and get my last minute popcorn which we forgot to buy. I admit to feeling guilty the entire time I was out, too – if one holds the belief a day is a day of rest they should not be hypocritical and force others to work. Still, we could have done without the popcorn for the day and did it on the next day I suppose. Next year I have to make sure it’s on the shopping list in advance.)

I knew that some of my clients aren’t even in America and wouldn’t know or understand the holiday, but I was surprised to see the out of country people let me have my Thursday and the American clients rally at their computers. And I ended up working for a bit as I answered emails and looked to see what I could swing out in five minutes or less. I should have ignored the emails until later, but survival kicked in. I’m just incredibly fond of paying my bills.

My family had a lot to be thankful for this year, partly because of how hard I work to survive. We had a turkey AND a ham, we’re buying our own house, buying a car, my youngest managed to stay reasonably good until her senior year and still counting, my b**** dog recently started trying to be manageable… the best part for me, my stories are gaining a following because – hyuck – people like to read what I write. My husband’s work is partly thanks to this. My work is responsible for the rest. And the price I’ve been paying for this was going to come due eventually. It came on Friday.

Black Friday. I had told my adoring husband that I had no clothes save for a single pair of jeans, so he dragged me to the store to buy some. I bought a nice pair of jeans, size 20 (biggest I’ve ever been), and come Saturday I got up to get dressed.

They didn’t fit.

Commence heartfelt tears – the price of working so hard is my health. I’ve been doing nothing but sitting here at the computer and eating in the past year. And it showed.

So now, like the corporate mentality, I am too big for my britches.

Mind you, I’ve struggled with my weight for my entire life – since I was a tender 14 years old. My body just doesn’t like to let go of fat no matter the lengths I take, and I have taken some incredible lengths. I know more about working out, how to eat, what exercises burn what calories, and various other things than a fat chic should with no success. Jane Fonda didn’t scare me. I’d do her workout twice without batting an eye. Yoga is so familiar to me it’s downright boring. Walking and running are my favorite pastimes – time being the key missing element in that equation. I think like a skinny person. My body wants to be a fat person. So the fact that I’m a size 22 may just remain a reality until the day I die.

But starting yesterday I tried to fit some activity into my daily regime. Again. It won’t hold – I go through fatigue periods where its hard to get out of bed. But while I have some energy I’ll do what I can when I can. Thankfully I have a treadmill in the house a friend gave me a couple of weeks ago.

I know what I need. I need to work less. Blast you, corporate survival, that you make so many of us skinny people fat!

If I lose an inch I’ll keep the world posted?