Week 2 Sturf about MVBL

Navigating my way through the first two weeks of MVBL.


Here are a few lists of
'On my mindness'

Stuff that is helping: My father in law saying, "Go for it", Nils Nelson (who I am determined to take down), stopping by in his van and cheering me on (dang it, I am trying to stay ornery :)), My team mates and their brilliant rhetoric while we walk, My stalwart friend Julie Wilson who sent me a scale that would blow your mind... It does everything but brush my teeth! Recording all my efforts on our blog helps, Getting all junk food out of the house helps, Having better songs on my Ipod helps (thanks Adam!), and preparing food that I can eat helps..

Stuff that continues to confuse me: Why does it seem that EVERYONE else can eat the stuff I cannot and not have it make them a tub O'L? Can I ever include sweets again in my diet? What do I do when someone gives me something or brings me something or invites me over for something that I cannot eat, is it ruinously rude to refuse? Do I want to be THAT person? Do I like her or want to spend time with her? I didn't before, so.... What about my kids? Should I let them still have junk food? How much? How little? At all? Ever? What do I do when we go camping and its time for S'mores? Seriously, stuff like that swirles in my mind in week 2. Been here plenty of times before and STILL have no 'moderation' answer that lasts forever.



Stuff that's bugging me: New gel inserts for my tender heels, which then in turn made some gnarly blisters in the middle of my foot, Tuesday pain, because I take my medicine once a week and by Tues night, I'm hurtin' b.a.d., Tapering off my steroids causes me great amounts of fatigue and pain, it is a giant sized bummer (just like my giant sized bummer!) Trying to stop my diet coke a day addiction, I'm convinced 1 a day helps my motor run, but need to give this one up soon, Trying to remember every detail I need to be successful, I'm a lazy remembererer...

Stuff that stressing me: I think there is a dark level of pain I am going to have to face and go right through the middle of to get where I want to go permanently. I'm very afraid of all that damage surfacing. It keeps knocking on my psyche and its getting louder and louder as this change happens. Crappers, don't want to face that stuff, EVER. Alas, its a giant piece of my missing puzzle. Will have to excavate soon :(






HOWEVER - I have lost 12 pounds in my now 2 weeks.

So...... I'm kinda stoked.

Something is working.

Week 3 here I come!

"I've got my bus pass and my sandwich..."

True greatness, does not come in the driveway filled with sports cars and luxury boats, grand vacations or season tickets. Not to me anyway, not to Mrs. Marc Reeves. That's me, and I am so proud to be.

I married the single sweetest man on the planet. I really did. So sorry to take him off the market for the rest of you, but he is MINE. All mine!






Our life together started almost 20 years ago. This fall will be 20 years since we met and began... As I reflect on that I can't help but smile and truth be told, I still get those butterfly thingies that float around the chest and make you feel like you just swallowed an entire bubble bath, every time I think of him.




Marc took a temporary gig selling solar powered device chargers for Goal Zero at Costco. Yep, we are there. Just trying to keep our heads above water. Gulp.

We now have one car. Which has cost us $600.00 this week to repair. Ugh and a big fat O.U.C.H. His last job provided a car, so we were spoiled into one car payment.

With the one car, life can be extremely tricky. Accepting this job which is far away, has meant that we are doing a ridiculous amount of juggling between end of the year kids events and programs and activities etc..

Marc bought a bus pass.

To save some headache, I dropped him off at the transit center so he could catch a connection to this job. Selling is against Marc's very essence. He hates selling anything with a vehemence only comparative to the likes of say... " an inexperienced proctologist".

Before he walked away, I kissed his face and told him I adored him and cast my worries over him as to his ridiculously long day and his needs.

He said, "I'm good, I've got my bus pass and my sandwich."

I can't begin to even try to share ALL the times this man has done this kind of thing for us. I can't. However, as this is a sort of 'family journal' , I want this written record so when he is 80 I can read it to him. I want to read it to his children and grandchildren to remind them and him what a great man he was when things were tough. :)



I can't tell you how many times:

Marc has been up before the sun working on everything....including baby bummies, scouts, his career, his church jobs, extra time on household projects, helping kids with early morning sports/music/seminary, volunteering on hundreds of things. First one there, last to leave Reeves.

Marc has given up what he wanted to someone else. The good piece, the biggest piece, the best seat, the shady spot, the biggest towel, the cleanest one, the non-squished one, the not bruised one, the cozy spot, the dry spot, the warmest coat, the best pair of gloves, the coveted place by the fire, the best of everything...

Marc has listened to those no one will listen to. He offers this concernedly. He wants to be kind and helpful. Aware that few others are willing to listen and take time, he intently listens and loves. He is available to just hear you, when most others never take the time to offer themselves in that way.



Marc has done without. Without new anything, EVER, while his daughter is dancing in a new costume on stage, his son is wearing Nike cleats on the offensive line, his wife buys a new outfit, his son rents a trumpet, his daughter gets the cotton candy at the fair, his son plays electric guitar, his wife goes to the beach, his son has the new church pants and tie.....and on and on and on

Marc has been stronger than everyone else. He just keeps trying saying, "I'm just doing what I can." "I will just hang on a little longer." "I'll be fine, you go ahead." "I'm not leaving until its done right." "I'll be last"

Greatness in men can be measured. Greatness in the souls of men cannot. I believe what the scriptures say about how "The first shall be last and the last shall be first". When earth life is all said and all done....

Marc will be in the front of the line.

He has his bus pass and his sandwich.

AND.......its been a week!

7 days at under 1500 Calories each day

7 days without white sugar or flour

7 days with at least an hour or more of exercise

7 days recording everything I eat.

7 days of drinking my face off and literally camping out in the wc

7 days of still cooking 'normally' for friends and fam and not partaking (this included 4 dozen sugar cookies and 3 dozen homemade biscuits) not a bite....

Pray for me schmeeples.....it feels like the devil himself lives in my shoulder and hip this morning. I'm tough, but still need the extra boosts to get me through.

My 20 year anniversary with Marc (since our first date) is this fall, and I want to have my body match my spirit by then.

Do you know what that means?

Since my weight issues have been seemingly insurmountable it just has felt like my vivacious and free and adventurous and enthusiastic SPIRIT has not matched my tired, exhausted, painful, frustrating, limiting, heavy, perpetually 'stuck' BODY.

The only way you can relate to my dilema is to imagine yourself doing any excercise while having the flu. Yep, thats how it feels pretty much everytime. Also think about how much you care about what you eat when you are really sick. Its been that way for me for a long long time. Survival mode. But.....

I want them to match again. MY spirit and MY body with an = equals mark inbetween.





Its absolutely NOT going to be easy. This I know. But, this time I am 'sharing'. Barf, gag, burf..... I HATE that part. HATE. Yet, I have a feeling that is the part I have been missing. So.........

There ya go. That was this week. I will weigh in tomorrow, and if you think I will 'share' that part, UM,.....you be c.r.a.z.y.!

Thanks for the support! I need it! AND Can finally admit it!!! Sort of.

Personalites Literature-aly

If someone says to you, "He is such a Romeo.". You surely know what that person is saying, right? It means that guy is a romantic dreamer, a gushy love bug. Everyone knows that. True?

I think most do. And, if they don't they should... (yes, I know you shouldn't start a sentence with 'and'...but I felt like it... :p)

If we are friends, and honk knows I hope we are if you are taking time to read my blog, because otherwise you are oddly interested in some strange lady from Seattle. Either category is welcome to read, nonetheless...

As I was saying, if we are friends....... You know that I often speak Literature-aly. Not literally, although, I am want to do so from time to time, but....Literature-ally. Here is how.



If I want to convey to you that my opinions of people at large, I can be caught saying things like, "He is such a Mercutio." Translation = I think he is a fool.

Its so much easier to say that than explain every aspect and or condition of that personality type. Effective? Yes. Always understood, No, not by most.

Those who do understand,.......I loooooooooooooooooooooooooovvvvvvvvvvvve, with lots of gluttonous oooooo's in the middle. Its such a relief to know, YOU know!



Perhaps you know a girl who is congenial in the most delicate way. Brave. Honorable, devoted to family, patient beyond belief, compelled to humility, or perhaps even endowed with raven-like locks. I would call her names. I would! She would be a Natasha. I admire and flaunt Natash-ness all over my verbage. War and Peace me baby.



We all know someone who just cannot catch a break in their formative years. Sadness follows them like a cursory shadow. Yet, they triumph and eventually turn their shadow into a spectrum of rainbowlike heroism. He is a N2 (Nicholas Nickleby, 2 N's, = N squared)



I don't think I have actually ever met a genuine Elizabeth Bennett. You DO know of whom I'm writing? Right? Write? Right?

There are some who magnify a large portion of her qualities or have a whimsical wandering into of a few characteristics. However, few find her for long or embody her forever.

If you hear me say, "You are so Elizabeth B right now!" Consider yourself complimented.



If you find your young self tormented by teasing from an opposite gender. I often just suggest an allusion to a one of my favorites. Gilbert. Anne of the Gables Green realized he was just literally (not literature-aly) CRAZY about her and could not contain himself. It will just get worse, so call him out. "You are such a Gilbert!"




I could go on forever and ever and ever, but last but not least I thought I'd share a marital favorite. Whenever my tall handsomeness does a stealthy good marriage deed, in the 'extra mile' and 'unheralded' category I'll give him and wink and a loved rushed, "You are such a Darcy."

No, not a 'darling' a "Darcyling".

Huge difference. Bingleys are nice too. Think I might have married the perfect combination of one half Darcy one half Bingley :0) He is no Wickam, cause' I could not abide any "Wickam-ness", ever.

I would have punched a Wickam in the bits and kicked his knickered arse to the 'literal' curb. True that.

If you get my drift, which after this post, YOU SHOULD.

If you don't, then I suppose you might be a Mr. Collins :) :) :) :) :) :) :)

Oh, all right. I'll try again. :)

I'm a professional. Professional dieter. Did you know that? I probably know more about nutrition and exercise and dieting than anyone else I know. Yet, I have failed and yo yoed, myself into an extreme range on the scale. I have clothes in about a 10 different size range.

I have lost enormous amounts of weight over the years, if you total it all. AND, have gained it all back lots of times.

I have always done it by myself. I am stubborn, personal and private.

This time, I am sticking a toe in the warm and loving water of camaraderie and support. I have always missed this piece in my efforts. I have never let anyone help me.

So, its time. Ouch. Nervous. Freaking out.

We will see if it makes the difference.

I want to also leave my excuses here. I don't want to use them anymore.

1. My Lupus keeps me from feeling good enough to excercise.
2. My joints hurt, I am in too much pain to move or exercise.
3. Taking steroids makes me perpetually hungry and swollen
4. Taking steroids makes me gain weight.
5. Healthy food costs to much, fresh meat and veggies are expensive and I don't have the resources right now.
6. But, its Christmas, New Years, My birthday, Mother's day, Easter, Graduation, Vacation, Friday night, a BBQ, a game, General Conference ETC,....ETC,.... ETC,....
7. If I lose the weight, men look at me and I would rather be hidden and 'off the radar'
8. Its too much work to make food just for me, AND for the rest of the family
9. Its raining and I will get sick if I am cold for too long
10. I need my 4 o'clock coke for the energy to get through the night.

Okay, there are 10 reasons I'm leaving here on this page and not taking them with me for the next 10 weeks.

I remember when this photo was taken at BYU Hawaii. I remember feeling fat and ugly. I was so foolish and so silly. I will never look like that again, as I am 40 years old and have had 3 kids and a myriad of illnesses. I don't expect that, I just want to be well this time and forget how I look. I've got to get past the surface this time. If I thought I was fat and ugly here, then, I've been WAY off on my self perception for a long long time.

I need to repent. It really comes to that. I need to take better care of this body I have been blessed with. I am going to do better, and this time ask for some help. I am going to admit I can't do it alone and pray everyday to 'make my weak things strong again' and then hold on with all my might!

We'll see...Wish me luck!

A sense of place...

Driving back from my doctor in Bellevue today, I had such a moment. It was nothing transitory or extreme, but instead just a sense of quiet belonging. Ah, Maple Valley..... H.O.M.E.

I love where I live. It only takes a small dose of 'urban' to make me crave 'Sub(urban)'.

Silly moments like yesterday at the "Do IT" center. Lily loves the little free bag of popcorn she gets when we go there. She and I were seed shopping. I am nervous about my tomato plants so we decided to cheat and by at least 4 tall ones on sale so we can guarantee tomatoes this year.

This sweetheart service gal walked us all the way outside to show us where they were and all three of us took in a breath of tomato plant together. Ahhhhhhh, now THAT smells like summer. We all closed our eyes and had flashes of lake and sun and fresh tomatoes.



A sense of being from a place is priceless. HOME. Home IS where your hearth is. Literally and idealistically. My ideal is now my real.



There is nothing like getting your big bird wings and taking a lap around the sun. I need to fly out of the nest pretty much everyday to be content. I am a flyer for sure. But now, I am also a nester. I adore the slightly lavender/lilac/baking bread/laundry soap/puppy dog/dusty book/muddy sneaker smell of my entry hall. LOVE. I'm HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! or Hoooooooooooooooooooooooome!!!! Depending on who is there.



Its slight the way I glean a tidbit here and there of the sense of being in the right place. Its almost undetectable, but its also ever present. It comes from the light nuances of life here in Maple Valley.

Perhaps its the repetitions. We haven't lived in a place this long ever. 5 years this June. Five. That is long for us. Us, who have moved 9 times in 15 years.

I feel a sense of place for the first time in a long time. It is in the details like my favorite cranky Scottsman who owns the Black Diamond Bookstore, he is sort of a pill. I totally love him, because of that. Being a pill I understand. :)

There is 'place' in an arranged carpool where we all take turns with steaming football players fogging up the windows.

There is 'place' in finding flowers on your porch on the day you need it the most.

There is 'place' in the pleasure of changing season and expectation of the floral displays onset, or the growth of a familiar tree.

There is 'place' in a community performance with all the hushed and expectant parents careening for a look at their offspring in talent mode.

There is 'place' when you walk the neighborhood and have to wave and smile so much at everyone passing by that you feel as if you have walked with a myriad of friends.

There is 'place' when I look through my windows at night and see a neighborhood all tucked in and peaceful.

There is 'place' when I get a serious case of the giggles with my friends.

Ah, there is 'place'. Its a soothing balm to my wanderlusty soul.

Finally.

The Grand Carpet Party

A debisgarden share: The 'carpet party'.

Often when the rhythm of life changes to a happy hum, I turn back to a raising small kids favorite. The carpet party.

When I feel the subtle change of season pull me forward. I turn a cold stubborn shoulder to 'Father Time' tell him to hold it just a second...

I'm not yet done with my motherin' and he's gonna have to wait out my presence.

I still have these babies under my roof for a bit longer, you see. They are still on loan for a while, to ME.


When I am feeling sentimental and don't want to let go of my grasp, I head for the tried and true.

The carpet party is one of them.

It can be outside with blankets or inside with pillows. It is always on the floor, sitting. Plan on someone spilling something on you and stepping on your favorite snack and then when it happens, you can say to yourself, "Hey, I was planning on that, no biggie." Lets carry on...

Spring comes and life breathes deep a fetid return of green. Grass as carpet. Yes, toss your shag and your berber out da door girl. Hit the deep green for a carpet party galore.
Imaginations explode as we take the inside out. Inside OUT. Blankets and tea cups and snacks and books and sunglasses and shaddy umbrellas.

Dappled light and shiney hair take the focus from 'in there'. We celebrate the day sitting "Criss Cross". Yeah, if you want you can bring applesauce.

Even with my seemingly giant sized boys, I can announce a 'carpet party' and there is a look of relieved glee to make me smile. They still love it. If its raining outside we take blankets and fill the floor, toss a few packs of cards out for a game or two and eat popcorn and drink hot cocoa.

Note from the veteran 'carpet party crew', keep the fluffy dogs at bay. They can wreck a carpet party faster than any word you can say.


The grand carpet party is staple of Reeves life. Our life. Take a note from an old lady and throw a blanket down for a memory maker. Tis' Grand.