Risky...Not Risque.

Deep down, I have the potential to be a serious Peeping Tom.

I have always been fascinated by peoples' Private Lives. It occurred to me several years ago that I worked very closely with up to 50 people, and I had zero idea what their personal lives were like. Most especially, I want to know how they lived: How do they decorate their homes, what do they spend their discretionary income on...And the biggest one of all....What Do They Wear To Bed.

Much of this curiosity is spawned from my very own habits.

I spend a lot of time trying to look good to the outside world...but at home, in bed....well, my standards have sort of slipped down a few notches.

I'd love to be able to say that I wear Victoria's Secret to bed every night. Ppppbbblllttt.

Not. Even. Close.

I started thinking about this entry when I saw a meme asking people to list their top 5 quirky behaviours. My biggest quirk is the one that I am most embarrassed about - it's what I wear to bed every night. I have been woefully aware of the facade I project during the day when I am in public. At home, I am nothing like that. And I bet there are a lot of people just like me.

It's a duality that thoroughly intrigues me.

So much so, I've always wanted to publish a photo book of people in their environment during the day and at night. It's not the sexual aspect that appeals to me...it's the sociology aspect...the way that we are raised and the standards by which we live when we think we are alone. I've always believed that money only has a peripheral affect. Can I afford to wear silk jammies every night? You bet. But I don't, because I Don't Want To...and I Don't Have To. In my bedroom, I am the master of my domain, and I can let it all hang out, so to speak.

So, here is my big disclosure. (I am clinging to the belief that I have remained relatively anonymous. And that you won't judge me too harshly.)

I don't wear a nightie or gown to bed.
I always.
Always.
Sleep in the shirt that I have worn for the day.
Minus the bra and without the pants.
Chonies, yes.
Socks, no.

Be it a tee shirt, a silk shirt, a flannel shirt or a sweat shirt...I just rip off my bra, drop the pants and jump straight into bed.

Now the world knows my secret.

Are you ready to share yours?

pla-'tO

pla·teau
n. pl. pla·teaus or pla·teaux

1. An elevated, comparatively level expanse of land; a tableland.
2. To reach a stable level; level off.
3. Jill's weight loss effort.

Not.

My sister turns 50 this Wednesday and I sent her one of these for her birthday. Denise loves to feel "cozy" and I think she is going to love this new robe.

In the meantime, I've been avoiding her telephone calls.

Denise seems to go out of her way to tell me how exhausting and difficult it is to raise children. During our last conversation, I asked her why she kept telling me that I'd "better think twice about adopting." Her reply was, "Because I know you and I don't think you can do it."

Unsolicited advice is a double-edged sword. It's always hard to understand the motivation behind the words, and sometimes the person is really spouting advice that they really need to use themselves. I'm trying to not be hurt or offended by her words, but really, enough is enough. It's OK to speak your peace with me once. I will listen, digest the offering, and choose to incorporate the advice or not. I really don't need to hear it repetitively, as in Every Time We Talk. When that happens, I become Defensive.

Jill: Hey, you were the one who told me I was a fool for buying my first townhouse.

Denise: I know, you proved me wrong.

Jill: You are also the one who told me that I was making a mistake moving to Colorado.

Denise: That wasn't me.

Jill: Yes, it was. You also said that I was putting us At Risk by buying a house so quickly. And that I need to get a job right away and not take any time off.

Denise: Whatever. I'm just telling you to think very hard before you go through with this. It is so much harder than you can ever imagine.

Jill: Tell me something. What would your life be like without your daughter Leslie? And what would your life be like without your grandson? Imagine growing older without them. Imagine they never existed.

Denise: I know, but there are alot of people who don't have kids and lead perfectly happy lives. It's OK to not have kids.

Jill: I'm aware of that and we have discussed this extensively. Husband and I really want this.

Denise: Well, I think you're making a mistake. It's never-ending and exhausting.

Jill: Well, it's also exhilarating and joyful.

Denise: Whatever. It's ultimately your decision.

Jill: Damned-straight, it is.


So here I sit, staring pensively at the phone as it rings most every half hour. Wondering why my sister feels the need to share her opinions about my life - - - especially when I do nothing of the sort to her.

It's a pattern that's followed me throughout my life. People who express self-doubt at any point in their lives tend to open the door for others to provide direction - whether actively solicited...or Not.

Tempted

I paid a slew of bills yesterday...mostly the final amounts due for services in the Bay Area which were so nominal, I was tempted to shred them and ignore all future notices.

For the record, we pay all of our bills on time. But there was something utterly compelling about being so far away and wondering if the companies would come after us for these piddly amounts:

Physician: $ 25.00 missed appointment

Newspaper agency: $ 1.91

Phone company: $ 1.45

Cable company: $ .75

I guess the temptation arose from me thinking that I could actually get away with it. Of course I paid the bills. But I couldn't help but wonder...What would you have done?

Phew.

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers. The doctor has ruled out Celiac disease or advanced cancer. I have to get "scoped" from stem to stern to confirm the Crohns Disease. Doctor is putting her money on that diagnosis, so to speak.

Tomorrow is the follow up doctor's appointment when I learn the results of my recent blood tests.

I already know that something is drastically wrong. The pain is a constant and the physical symptoms ongoing.

Just how serious this is remains to be seen. I'm choosing to align my expectations with Crohns Disease because it is the least serious of the potentials.

In the meantime, Husband is getting settled into the new house, which basically means he's doing his own thing. I'm in way too much pain to even worry about it at this point.

Mr. Buns

He's the type of House Guest that has no intention of leaving. And even though he eats constantly, I wouldn't have it any other way.

I call him Mr. Buns and he's about the size of my husband's fist. I first saw him 5 days ago on the edge of the property. He was lounging in the grass...just grazing. On day three, I decided to take a closer look. When he saw me coming, he tucked his ears in and hunched down low. He stayed frozen in place for 10 minutes.

I couldn't help but relate to his natural instinct to Hunker Down. For the last two years, crisis after crisis has hit my family. At one point, I too hunkered down, hoping the danger would pass. It took quite a long time for that to happen, and I was frozen in fear the entire time. Stagnation set-in but the danger was ever-present and I simply couldn't face it straight one.

I can't allow the fear to shut me down forever, so I am getting out more, establishing new relationships and answering the phone when it rings.

Mr. Buns was outside on the grass again this morning, and I couldn't help but feel compassion when I saw him. He's got a hard life having to forrage for food, brave the winter snow storms and outrun the resident hawk. So I will be his Enabler and give him all of the petunias that he can eat. Because he's courageous in the midst of constant danger, and I respect that.

Beauty & the Beast

Boss loves to sit on the morning newspaper, and I couldn't escape the irony that he chose to plant his hamhocks on this.

Petty Party

Husband returned home on Thursday after spending three weeks in the Bay Area to complete several jobs. I was so excited to see him, I cried and turned into a barnacle...I just couldn't let go when we hugged.

• I know that he drove 24 hours straight without stopping for rest.
• I know that he only got two hours of sleep on each shift before he had to switch with his dad and take over the driving.
• I know that he worked 14 hour days for 3 weeks so he could get the jobs done and come home.
• I know that he's cranky because he's tired.

Nonetheless.

He didn't get watery-eyed when he first saw me. He didn't say anything about my weight loss, bronzed skin, new hairdo...nothing. And we weren't able to get overly affectionate because his parents were here.

What is wrong with guys? If a woman is going to bust her yams to look good/better, a little encouragement would go a LONG way. Granted, I am no beauty, but on Wednesday, a parking valet (complete stranger) told me that I was beautiful...and no, he wasn't driving my car so he didn't expect a bigger tip.

I know. Husband was tired. I'm being petty.

Now that I am rested, I've been able to spend more quality time on relationships and I am hoping that my husband can do the same.

And for the Family Room...

The Finalist for the Kitchen Nook Curtain

Being unemployed for the last 2 months has been f-a-b-u-l-o-u-s.

I love not working.

I love sleeping in and working out when I have the most energy during the day, which is typically around 10am.

I love to spend hours looking at fabrics for our soon-to-be-made curtains and couches.

I love having lunch with friends, ordering a glass of wine and not worrying about getting back to the office within a decent amount of time.

I love taking my time in the morning to read the newspaper and drink my coffee.

And I love spending about an hour each morning watering the flowers, pulling up weeds, stretching out on the backyard lawn, and chatting with the neighbors.

This is about all that I want to handle at this point in my life, and every day continues to get better and brighter. Hooray for silly, fun things like decorating and making meatballs. I've worked so hard for over twenty years...and I'm really enjoying the break.

I highly recommend it to anyone considering the same.

On a Lighter Note...

This is my most favorite mascara ever...despite the fact that it isn't waterproof.

A Brief Word About Pain

Happiness has unveiled my chronic pain.

My stomach aches in both the upper and lower regions. When my doctor pressed on it yesterday, I screamed. She asked me to stop scaring her patients and then prescribed Levsin.

I can't walk in the morning now, because I have Achilles Tendonitis. Basically, that means both heels shoot excruciating pain throughout the backs of my feet. So, in order to get around...I hobble. If it doesn't heal on its own, I'll have to get casts on both feet...for up to eight weeks.

The streaking jets of pain in my back and neck are the result of a pinched nerve. When the masseuse pressed down on my right scapula, it felt as though I was being stabbed in the heart. As the knot on my left side was being worked over, I started to have flashbacks of my mom: Sitting with her in the beauty salon and her begging me to not leave her, not even for a bathroom break. Watching her cry out in pain when the technicians attempted to draw blood and couldn't find a vein even after three attempts. Slowly rubbing her forehead to comfort her. Feeding her canned peaches, because she refused everything else. Sobbing deeply, I had an epiphany in that moment on the massage table: I realized that I literally hurt everywhere...and I'm overwhelmed and tired of it.

Before we moved to Colorado, my plate was so full I was hardly aware of what was happening with my body. Now that I've had time to rest my mind, I've slowly become aware of all of the aches and strains.

How in the world did I carry on before? In the back of my mind, I knew what was going on but I took care of everything else first. My job, my mom, my house, my dad. Everything but me.

How can something so insidious become so obvious now? It's as though each injury or illness has crescendoed together...to loudly and convincingly get my attention.

Pain is a constant part of my day. But it's all OK now...because I'm finally listening.

Blessings to the people who give us "perspective."

I called my sister today to tell her that I was concerned about her husband. He's the one who found Ann on the morning that she passed away. He knew that my mom was intensely fearful that Ann would get "misplaced" during cremation, so he personally attended the procedure to insure that we received Ann's ashes...and not someone else's.

My brother-in-law has also accelerated his business dealings because he realized that he will be supporting my grand-nephew (his grandson) for his entire life because of the recent autism diagnosis. He and my sister (both 50 years old) are already raising the baby because their daughter is a meth-addict.

Bob has always been so amiable and laid-back in that Southern California way. But not any more. He's irritable, caustic and impersonal. His tone is harsh and he doesn't have the time to simply connect with people anymore.

So my conversation with Denise went something like this:

Jill: I just want to let you know that I talked with Bob and expressed my concern that he's working himself too hard. I'm scared that he could collapse from exhaustion like Husband did...I'm truly concerned about his health.

Denise: I know. He's trying to get things under control. He's got too much on his plate, too many projects.

Jill: I'm sorry I can't help you more with selling dad's house and Ann's condo.

Denise: It's OK, it's mostly done. The house in San Bernardino goes on the market this week and I just need to clear all of the furniture out of Ann's place and we'll get that on the market too. It's just alot to do at one time.

Jill: I know, that's why I'm so worried about Bob. He's the one who found Ann and he must still be in shock over that.

Denise: He's doing OK. It's going to get better soon once we sell the house and condo. Bob got a call from his former business partner - do you remember Toby?

Jill: Yeah.

Denise: He died yesterday from pancreatic cancer.

Jill: OMG. Didn't Toby's pregnant wife pass away last year?

Denise: Yup. So when you think you have it bad, always remember that it could be worse.

Jill: Geez, this world is too much sometimes.

So here I sit, pondering the Fairness Issue once again. A worldly rule that I want enforced. Just think about how things would be different:

• Children would never have cancer.
• Teachers would be rewarded with annual bonuses, expense accounts and stock options.
• Child molesters would live shorter lives.
• Parents would never outlive their kids.
• Narcissism would be fattening.
• Arrogance would result in the growth of a very large, unsightly goiter.
• Cruelty to animals would be punishable by the same treatment dealt to the animal.

Fairness doesn't exist, pure and simple. At least, not as I understand it. And my sister is correct - as difficult as this year has been, we are still blessed to be here and have one another.

A Note About Genealogy

I decided to do research on my grandfather because my mom never talked about him and we know very little. I know that he was 52 years old when he died from a heart attack. I know that he worked as an engineer for Southern Pacific and earned a good living during the depression.

After a lot of research, I now know that he was married before and after he married my grandmother and that he had kids from each marriage. His first-born son just passed away 3 years ago at the age of 86.

I also learned that my grandmother had been married once before she married my grandfather. Her husband's name was Hubert and he was from Tennessee.

But there was an even bigger stunner: The descendents on my mother's side appear to have been Jewish. This will take further research and confirmation - it's easy to go down the wrong path.

Frankly, I find this new fact to be very cool. I have always held an innate affinity for my Jewish friends...and somehow this news doesn't surprise me. Of course, I'm going solely off the last names of my relatives, i.e. Levan, Siegfried, etc.

I can't help but think about the fact that the bloodline stops with me. We'll be adopting, yes, but the blood genealogy won't carry forward. In a way, this makes me sad. However, I have a firm grasp on the genetic issues in my family that also won't be passed along. Diabetes, autoimmune disorders, depression, alcoholism, and unconfirmed bipolar disorder.

I wish I knew more about my grandad, and I want to confirm the circumstances around his death. It wouldn't be much of a stretch for my mother's family to fabricate a story. They had a tendancy to alter the truth.

Colorado

Every bicyclist wears a helmet...but motorcyclists don't.

Restaurants have Smoking Sections. (yuck)

Bread can sit in the pantry for two weeks without growing mold.

Complete strangers wave to me from their cars when they pass my house.

There isn't a Trader Joes anywhere in the state. (sob)

Thousands of drivers have cracked windshields just like me.

I don't have to defend myself when people learn that I am a Christian.

The Denver Post doesn't carry For Better or Worse. (sob)

None of my neighbors has a house cleaner or a gardener.

Service in stores and restaurants is 300% superior to that in California.

Not only are the people here more fit...they are vibrant and friendly.

Southern Colorado just had an earthquake...what's up with that? I thought I traded those in for tornados.

Okay...One Final Cat Photo.

Every night as I get ready for bed, Boss sits with me in the bathroom. I'd like to think that he does it for the companionship.

Sadly, it's really because he enjoys looking at himself in the mirror.

Gawd, I love this cat!

The Lynnard Update.

I found a no-kill animal sanctuary in the area and called them to discuss the possibility of taking Lynnard. He had the nasty habit of using our closets as his personal bio-room, and I don't want the new house to smell like Cat.

The nice lady at the sanctuary assured me that Lynnard would be accepted, no questions. He would be able to run around outside with 20+ other cats., and he'd either be adopted by a suitable new owner or he'd spend the rest of his days at the sanctuary.

I decided to do more research on the place and found their website. The button "Available for Adoption" caught my eye, so I clicked on it to see how many cats were waiting for new homes. As I scrolled down the list, I started to read their stories:

Mandy: I am an adorable black cat that likes children and small dogs. I don't know why my owner abandoned me or what I did wrong. I just want to find a new home with loving parents who won't ever give me away.

Ralph: My heart is broken because my previous parents didn't want me. I don't know why. Won't you please take me into your home? I have a lot of love to give.

Teeter: My parents decided that they didn't want me anymore after 7 years together. I am loving and I purr a lot.

Need I go on? The cats told the entire story: They were abandoned, bottom line. Which is something I vowed never to do.

Soooo, we now have a litter box, food bowl and water trough in the upstairs bedroom. Also something I swore I wouldn't do...until the alternative grabbed me by the heart and squeezed real hard.

Mental Meanderings.

It's a difficult reconciliation. Spiritual vs. Personal Desire vs. Humanity.

I have a raging, innate desire that my loved ones be protected from harm, sickness and evil intentions. But adversity is impartial and it reigns with a cold neutrality despite the suffering or pleas for relief. Good deeds are meaningless. The best we can do is take it on the chin and hope we survive.

Spirituality then guides us toward acceptance. That which befalls us is fate or destiny...determined by a higher power with a greater understanding. So we have to ignore one of our other inherent, human behaviors: The search for logic and reason.

Why are we hardwired to believe in fairness when it really doesn't exist?

Why do I have to accept the death of my 46 year old sister...who didn't deserve to have diabetes or blindness or loneliness or a slew of other health issues? She wasn't a thief, a drug addict or even a wicked miscreant. My sister never hurt anyone, and she didn't deserve her fate.

Why doesn't God operate like Pavlov? Why are our innate reflexes paired up with a conflicting operational system that refuses to reward goodness? Why do snidely people get the promotion? Why do murderers live well into their eighties? So we can become broken and disenchanted and spend our lives searching for meaning?

I sincerely hope that my sister has moved on to a better place that recognizes and rewards her sweet character. But that would require the Next Stop to operate much differently than our human world. And if this place really does exist, then why we are subjected to this maddening dichotomy of our convictions for fairness in an utterly, impartial world?

Dreaming Big. Or Small....So To Speak.

Okay, since I'm already in La-La Land about all of the possibilities in life...(I am finally emerging from this depression)...I might as well go on record saying that it is my intention to return to my wedding-day weight.

I've already lost 8 pounds. A drop in the bucket compared to the total required weight loss, but it represents a Turning Point. The scale is no longer going up....it's going down. And that feels good.

Incidentals

I recently met an interior designer (ID) whose design taste is an exact match with ours. She has a small shop in the area, and when I walked into it, I felt as though I had walked into my own home. Same metal birds, same Italian tiles, same pillows. "Perfect!" I thought immediately.

ID spent 2 hours at my house today helping me rearrange my furniture and place artwork. She has recommended that I move the two rugs in the living/dining rooms and replace the drab, beige carpet with a patterned carpet - as shown above. Apparently, two rugs in the same space makes it choppy and inconsistent. I actually agree with her and can't wait for Husband to Get Home to help me move everything around.

ID is also going to help me with curtains, replacing the regimented swags that currently drape the windows.

ID: You've done curtains before, so you know they're going to be expensive, right?

Jill: (gulp)

ID: I suggest we drape them from the second window from the top - which is about 15' up there, so we're talking about a lot of yardage. I'll help you select a beautiful fabric with a lower price point, but there will be a lot of fabric.

Jill: (clears throat) "OK." (weakly)

Truth be told, I am so, so excited. ID has a handle on these tall ceilings and knows how to turn a large room into a cozy room. We'll take it slowly, piece by piece, because money is an issue. And I will savor every single moment.

This is when the fun begins!

Mulling It Over.

Moving to Denver and minimizing our mortgage obligation has given me the freedom to contemplate a new career. Several ideas have already come to mind:

Massage Therapist
Leadership Trainer
Esthetician
Paralegal
Physical Therapist
Interior Designer/Stager

I have found a school that provides a certification program for paralegals - my best route since I already have my Bachelor's degree. My only concern about this profession is the hours requirement - I really don't want to work another full-time+++ position ever again. That is also why massage therapy is so appealing. I could dictate my own hours. The only potential issue with that is...will it make me wiggy to touch complete strangers all over? I love the concept of helping people heal, and I wholeheartedly believe in massage. I am also very in tune with doing it - I intuitively know how to connect with a person. Anyone who has ever had a massage experience with a person who was not present will understand what I mean by this.

I am so excited to have options! This is Mental Freedom Supreme.

I know I can sleep easier at night.

Authorities have been diligent and actually caught Martha Stewart attending a yoga class in town. Now, she'll have to wear her anklet for another three weeks or so.

Meanwhile, convicted sex offenders like Joseph Edward Duncan are paroled EARLY so they can run amuck and commit more offenses...like murder, kidnapping and child abuse.

I ask you, who should be wearing the anklet?

Relaxation.

Part of my healing process involves various treatments to either enhance some unsightly trait or help me get back in tune with my physical body. The weight gain and the grieving have caused me to be uber-aware of my emotions and incredibly numb to my physical being.

I spent a few hours at a spa this morning for the first of several planned treatments. Laser hair removal on the upper lip. (Can you say Groucho Marx?) Plus this:

The Wild Rose Warm Rose Oil Massage. We create a special environment for this uniquely nurturing treatment, which helps to open the heart to compassion, love and joy. A wonderful treatment that has benefits for extreme stress or recovery from loss. A memorable spa ritual and extraordinary gift.

After lounging in the relaxation room and enjoying a complimentary foot bath, I was escorted to my massage room. The lights were dimmed and gorgeous rose petals were strewn across the fleece blanket on the table and across the floor. It was an unexpected surprise. The massage was fabulous and lasted 90 minutes. Hot towels were placed on my back and all of the kinks in my trapezius (aka Chicken Wings) were obliterated.

I was absolutely Spacey when I walked out.

The experience reminded me of when I traveled to London and saw Harrods for the very first time. The pinnacle was when we were downstairs in the charcuterie enjoying our first good cup of coffee in Europe. Without warning, a parade of Scottish bagpipes toured the tiled room, and the music was hauntingly beautiful. I remember feeling chills down my spine and doing my best to mentally bookmark the moment. The beauty and character of the Harrods building and its contents were overwhelming, and I remember thinking that I would be willing to sell my house to live in Harrods. Yes, I wanted to live in a department store.

Today, I felt such comfort and peace...I began to imagine myself living in the spa. I didn't want to leave. I then realized that I would have to become careful not to become addicted to the treatments. My budget doesn't include massages and facials and I do want to be able to take a full year off work.

Nonetheless, I am going back later this week for an all-over body bronze and an accupunture treatment. Hopefully, I won't emerge looking like a piece of orange peel.