Good news, everyone! I spoke to my mother, and her conflict with her boyfriend, Mark, has been resolved. Whew! It turns out that he got upset when she tried to hang her animal heads on the walls. Seeing as many sensitive people (such as myself) are at least somewhat opposed to hunting, I can totally understand the conflict.
“Those heads were from Jim’s favorite kills,” Mother explained to me. “They’re very dear to me.”
“They’re very deer to you?!”
She burst into laughter. You had to see that pun coming.
I know nothing of hunting. My brother and I were raised to fish, but there’s a history there. Granny Franny kept her pond stocked with bluegills, crappie, a few catfish, and a few bass. There were also snapping turtles. So fishing was always fun. We’d go out to the dock all the time.
I mastered baiting my hook with mealworms and throwing out my reel. I caught a lot of fish, as we all did. We’d either throw them back in or take them home for dinner. Granny Franny would fry them in cornmeal, and they were delicious.
But there was this one day when we were teenagers that Philip, our cousin Andy, and I went to fish for fun, meaning we were going to throw the fish back in. Philip caught a fish, but the hook got caught in the fish’s mouth. By the time Philip managed to free the fish and put it back in the water, the poor thing was dead. Two seconds later, it became dinner for a snapping turtle.
That was the last time I ever went fishing. It never seemed okay after that.
But it’s a tricky issue overall. You could say, “Hey, you shouldn’t hunt,” but unless you’re a vegetarian or such, you can’t in good conscience say that animals aren’t being hurt for you to eat. (I think.) If you are a vegetarian, then yeah, preach it!
At any rate, that’s what my mom and her boyfriend were disagreeing over. The heads. Of Jim’s kills. To be completely honest, they always creeped me out, too, whenever I’d visit my mom and her late husband, Jim, at their huge house in Corydon. Those beady glass eyes seem to follow me all around the basement.
My dad took my car to go to Frankfort, and I’m waiting for him to return so we can take our 3:00 walk.
Hmm… I’ve gone to the gym for the past twelve consecutive days (counting today). On six days, I’ve gone once; on four days, I’ve gone twice; and on two days, I’ve gone three times. I’ve burned 2,100 calories so far. Sadly, my internet research tells me that it takes 3,500 calories to lose a pound. Huh. Well, I’m trying.
My original goal was to go three times every day, but there have been several cases of “life happening”. My life tends to be unpredictable in that sense, so much that you can predict the unpredictability, but you can never guess what it will be.
I woke up miserable at 4:00 in the morning, went to the drugstore, and bought loads of snack food. It’s incidents like that that can kill morale dead, but despite my horrid eating habits, I still went to the gym upon reawakening at around 11:00 AM. (I’m glad I fell back to sleep!) I’ve decided in no uncertain terms that despite how awful I choose to eat, I’m absolutely not going to let it discourage me from going to the gym. It’s easy for me to just give up, and if I eat junk food, it’s like, well, why go to the gym? I’ll never burn those 1200 calories, but I’m not allowing myself to give in to such rationalizations.
(But I really am upset with myself for eating 1200 calories in the middle of the night. Ugh. There was a mini-cannister of Pringles, a grab bag of Doritos, and a cylindrical package of small chocolate doughnuts. Heaven help us all.)
And if exercise goes better than dieting (which certainly seems to be the case thus far), then hey, there’s my secret power. I swear, I never thought I could exercise, but I can! Look at me go! I’m impressed with my efforts. Yeah. It’s all good. I just have to try harder in the eating department.
The weird thing is that healthy eating efforts fry my brain and make me feel burdened, like it takes too much effort to do iffing (intermittent fasting) or to not eat flour. It just overwhelms me and floods my mind. It seems to require constant mental discipline (not will power, but actually remembering not to eat this or that, or now or then). Exercise, however, doesn’t become an unwanted obsession. I just do it. But I’ll keep trying with the eating. I’m still determined to make 2021 the year of fitness, and I’d say I’m doing great so far! I mean, I’ve seriously never exercised like this before at all.
It feels like less of a chore, and I might even be able to do harder workouts soon. I want to master the muscle machines, but there are a lot of them, and it’s intimidating. Baby steps. I’d give anything to have a friend who could show me around. Ash took me to the gym a few times, but she lives in Orlando now. I know I could ask an employee for help, but that would take all my spoons. There are “spoon killers”, and asking for help is definitely on the list.
So, I’m going to do the 3-day novella event again this year. I was going to write it off (so to speak) out of agitation at how much it fries my brain combined with the fact that I never win, so I asked the head of the organization on social media, “Does my only writing 17,000 words take me out of contention? If so, I’ll probably pass due to the braindeath it causes to write that in three days!” Gavin, the person who heads it, responded, “No, don’t worry! One finalist once was 13,000 words.” (I think he said that.) And then he added, “By the way, your latest 3-day novella, Period, End Of., was freakin’ hilarious, and it was in my top three.” (There are four judges altogether. I made the top ten out of fifteen entrants, but then didn’t place when the winners were announced.)
Well, call me flattered! I’m back in the game. This year’s event will be over Memorial Day weekend instead of Labor Day. I’m not sure why, but I like that plan. So I’m on it. There will even be a fun option for “pantsers”, which is when you write without any plot outlines or characters already in mind. So what Gavin’s going to do is give some prompts for those of us who want to write who-the-heck-knows-what, and the best will win the pantser prize! (Or I can write a story we’ve already plotted out. My choice.) Anyone who’s interested can go to 3daynovella.com. I’m sure they’ll have this year’s registration up soon.
Dear Annie: My fiance and I want to go back to the way we were, but it is more of a struggle for me than for him. We are planning to get an apartment together, but it is hard for me to be around him without getting upset. I have been going through a lot lately, and finding out that my fiance was lying to me was one of the worst things that has happened. At first, it was something minor, and I just chose to keep my mouth shut, but the next morning he was on his phone, and I saw pictures of naked women that he tried to hide fast. I tried to get the truth out of him, but he lied.
We went to the lake to talk about it, and it just kept escalating. He’s been doing it for seven months. I found out and was actually contacting someone to get these pictures. This is cheating, isn’t it? He also had multiple accounts for stuff like that which he had to pay for. He promised not to do it again, but I struggle to believe it when he continues to lie to me about different things. I want to move on and be happy with him, but when something similar comes up, I break down. What should I do? — Confused and Lost.
Dear Confused and Lost: Of course, you break down when something similar happens. It is unacceptable for your fiance to lie to you and have other women send him naked pictures. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. The best way to move on and be happy with him is to go to counseling together. You can’t build a successful marriage if there is a lack of trust. Stay firm with your boundaries in the relationship. Until that’s settled, don’t marry the bum. Best of luck to you both. (c) Annie Lane
Huh. Is it just me, or should the letter writer have kicked her fiance into the lake when she had the chance? 😛
My dad’s home now! I might blog more about Annie Lane’s advice later.