Life thru the haze of cat hair.

Category Archives: only me

Hi. I’m Mary, and I’m addicted to sugar.

Hi Mary!

I’m sure I have spoken about this here before. Of course I have. This blog is about me. And I am somewhat self-absorbed. *heh*

So, anyway. I am addicted to processed sugar. And it’s gotten so much worse. So, as of midnight, I am done. I am going cold turkey.

There will be some relapses, but starting today, I am detoxing. Why today and not January 1? Because I have the next 4 days off and I know that I will have headaches and be really bitchy and irritable and I figured the fewer people who have to be exposed to me during this, the better.

So if you see me on Twitter and I am crankier than normal, I apologize. I’ll be better soon. And then my sweetness with be genuine, not processed.

Talk soon.


Oh, hello! I”m on quite a roll, aren’t I? The bagels are fresh and the cream cheese is whipped. Help yourself.

Ok, Universe. I get it! Seriously. I can’t stop giggling at how blind I have been.

Firstly, my Angel gave me the gift of changing my life.

Secondly, I came across what I think might be the theme song of my Inner Wisdom (and, I swear to Cod, it just came on my playlist. Right. Now!) Relentless by Audrye Sessions. Check it out.

Thirdly, the lovely and talented DailySnark had this post yesterday.  Originally, I thought about doing it, but in journal form. But, I might do it here. If Scaredy Kat lets me. (She’s part of Mean Marcy’s crew.)

And today, here, there was this post.  I have never read this blog before. And usually, I just skim the “headlines” on the DailyBrainstorm.

I feel like I’m getting bombarded with the pom-poms the Wonder Twins play with. (Pom-poms, because they don’t hurt. They make me giggle.)

Mean Marcy and her crew don’t stand a chance.


Oh, hello!  I made sandwiches. Help yourself.

Last night was the first “class” of Reform School. It was exciting and fun and scary.

We learned more about inner mean girls and the sort of categories into which they fit. Turns out, I have no less than 7 mean girls with me. All the time.

This week’s assignment is to get to know our mean girls.  You might think you know her (them), but do you? Really?

So far I have met one. She is the leader. She bosses me and all the other mean girls around. Her name is Mean Marcy.

She keeps me from EVERYTHING. Why walk when I won’t lose the weight anyway. Why try new things when being afraid is what I know now. Marcy has been very busy.

I need Marcy to go on vacation. A long one. And she needs to take her friends with her. I’m exhausted from listening to her and all her lies.

I’m realizing that this post won’t make sense to many of you. (You know, because there *are* so many of you. *heh*) (Thank you for stopping by, BTW.) So I’ll keep it short. Marcy has some explaining to do. And the others need to introduce themselves to me.

Maybe then I will get to put some of those lies to rest. And I can show the world my fabulousness.


Oh, hello! Come in. Have some tea. And I finally filled the candy dish again, so have at it.

I’m pretty sure that I have stated on here before that I SUCK at managing money. (I would go back and put a link to a previous post, but I’m too lazy. So, you can either look back, or just take my word for it. I suck.)

I have a few theories as to why it is that I suck at it so much, but I won’t go into those here. Suffice it to say, if I have cash in my wallet (or tossed in the bottom of the suitcase I call a purse), I will spend it. On what? It doesn’t matter. Anything. Everything. I wouldn’t even be able to tell you what 2 days later. It’s really pathetic.

About a year ago, I cut up my credit cards. It was traumatic and scary and hard and horrible and the best thing I have done for myself in a long time. (I still had balances, mind, but at least I could no longer ADD to those balances. Just go with it.) Honestly, if I had to do it again, I would. But I would keep one card. Because it is really hard to live in this world with no plastic.

What that little exercise in self-control has taught me is that if I don’t have the $ in my checking account, I can’t buy it. Whatever “it” is – food, entertainment, whatever. I am not always successful at sticking to that rule, and the amount of money I have actually given to my bank in the form of overdraft fees is staggering, but I am learning and getting better at it as I go.

So, why this story of woe on a Friday morning? Well, last week, I think it was Wednesday, I discovered that, yet again, I was overdrawn. And I had $1 in my wallet. Literally, one dollar. Oh. My. Goat. What was I going to do?? I couldn’t buy a coffee, or lunch, or stamps, or groceries. I had 10 days before I got paid again. Have I mentioned how much I suck at money? S.U.C.K.

With no choice, I had to eat whatever I had in the cupboard/fridge/freezer. I had to resort to the free coffee at work (with that powdered creamer crap) (which, BTW, GROSS) or nothing at all. There were no snacks, no nips to the cafe downstairs for a muffin or scone or salad. So much for my new goal of eating more healthful foods and cutting down on carbs and starches. I lived with a hunger headache and a rumbly tum. I dug deep into the bottom of my suitcase purse for spare change for an emergency Hershey bar yesterday.

But I made it. Today, I was able to walk into the grocery store across the street to get something for breakfast and know that I had the cash to pay for it. It was exciting. But, do you know what? I didn’t want most of it. I had a new perspective on the overwhelming number of options. I still have to go grocery shopping tonight, to stock up on food, and to replenish my larder, but I think my choices will be much more carefully made.

There were some good things to come out of this inadvertent experiment:

  • I was finally able to clear out all the stuff in my freezer/cupboards that I had purchased, but didn’t feel like eating. You know the stuff. Pasta, rice, popcorn, whatever leftovers you may have frozen to “have later”.  CLEAN START!
  • I lost 9 pounds. That, right there, should tell you something. Clearly, I was eating too much.
  • I learned that I really didn’t have to eat if I was bored/sad/depressed/stressed/happy. I could really only eat 3 meals a day. No snacking. And? I DIDN’T DIE. I didn’t (couldn’t) use food to mask those feelings. I ate when I was really hungry (read: dizzy and headachey), and that was it.
  • I learned that I didn’t need to eat so much. I had to eat smaller portions in order to make the food last longer.
  • I learned that powdered coffee creamer? Just as gross as I remembered.
  • I learned that I don’t *have* to have dessert. But I just wanna.
  • I learned that I really can live, and do it maybe not well, but sufficiently, without spending every last cent. It’s okay to NOT go to the drug store and buy magazines or whatever. Or to turn on the Kindle and download the 36 books that I have seen recommended lately that I now want to read. I can read the books I already have (that I haven’t read before) and discover “Oh, yeah! That’s why I bought that!”
  • Oh, yeah, and I’m all set with carbs and starches for a while. Thanks.

So, I know this post started out about money and ended up about food. But, I found that the lack of one really impacts the other. This past 10 days has been hard and while I wouldn’t recommend anyone letting themselves get into the position I did, I would recommend trying to not spend money for a week on those little things that seem to so easily add up. And also, go through your stores of prepackaged foodstuffs and use that stuff up. Start over without all that stuff that really isn’t good for you. Maybe it would be better to just toss it, or to just NOT buy it in the first place, but you know what I mean.

And that cup of Chibani yogurt this morning? SO. FREAKING. GOOD!!!!! (If you haven’t tried this stuff? Holy crap. The best Greek yogurt out there, IMO. Seriously.) And it filled me up. I never thought I could be satisfied with just a yogurt, but I am. (If someone put a plate of bacon and eggs in front of my, I wouldn’t say no, mind. But I’m comfortable with just the yogurt for now.) This may be the start of something big for me. *fingers crossed*

Oh, and that dollar in my wallet? Yep. I still have it.


Oh, hello! Come in and have coffee and a sticky bun.

Sorry for the title. I may have been channeling Brigit Jones…

I say that this is more for the single folks than for people who have a partner, but perhaps it’s just because that is the perspective from which I am writing. IDK. You can judge for yourself.

Most of the time, I consider myself self-sufficient. I guess I have to be, since there isn’t anyone there to do “it” for me. I am responsible for my bills, for my house, and the maintenance of that house, my cats and their upkeep, and on and on. And most of the time, I am fine with that. I have to be, of course, but it really is true.

Then there are other times… I get sick to death of cleaning the house, mowing the lawn, shovelling the snow, doing laundry, etc. But, in my case, there is no one there to pick up the slack for me. This is where the smug marrieds have an advantage. They can look at their partner and ask/beg/nag for help, and there is a probability that the partner will do it, even if it’s not done the way they would want.

But, here is where I feel I need to clarify. I *know* that being part of a couple does not mean that each member of the pair is not self-sufficient. They are (usually).

I’m not saying this very well. But in my usual mode of just putting things out there without spending too much time picking nits, here it is.

My theory is that it is harder for singletons to ask for help than it is for the smug marrieds. And why do I think that? Because I live it. Every. Damn. Day. My feeling is that when I ask someone for help, it becomes another item on their “To Do” list. The people I could ask for help have their own lives and problems and chores and bills. And while that is also true of coupledom, at least the person you might ask for help ALSO has a vested interest in your happiness. They aren’t solely responsible for it, of course, but they see you every day and want what you want. Hopefully.

So, when is it okay to ask for help? I’ve never been clear on when it is appropriate. There have been times in the winter, when I’m out moving snow, that I have just said F*CK IT, and flagged down a passing truck with a plow and begged them to clear my driveway. But then, I am throwing money at them, so it is win-win.

Overall, I suck at asking for help. I get frustrated, then overwhelmed, then turn into a sobbing mess, and come out the other side a little bruised, but moving forward anyway. I could maybe avoid all that by asking for help sooner, but how do I ask without it being an imposition? Without becoming a nuisance? Without appearing weak? Without feeling indebted?

What do *you* do? Do you ask for help? How did you learn to do it or is it something that comes naturally?

Help!


Oh, hello! Come on in and have some iced tea.

There’s something wrong with me. Mentally. I’m convinced of it. Someone here at the Gas ‘n Sip just invited me to his child’s first birthday party. I almost started crying.

This is strange for many reasons.

  • Crying? Really?
  • I don’t enjoy children, typically.
  • I don’t enjoy socializing with circus work folks, typically.
  • Crying? Really?

Thank goat I decided to take this Friday and Monday off. Evidently, I need a nap. Or, you know, a smack in the head.


Oh, hello! Come on in. Have some tortellini. Grated cheese is on the side.

I am afraid

Why am I so afraid?

Afraid of so much –

Of success

Of failure

Of trying.

What is there to fear?

If I try, I will learn.

If I fail, I will learn.

If I succeed, I will rejoice.

But it all seems so scary.

The familiar is comfortable.

Growing is an unknown.

Stretching may hurt.

Watching others try

Make me envious.

Of their courage

Of their strength

Of their fearlessness.

Irony:

I want to get

neamhfhaitíosach

as a tattoo.

It means “fearless”

In Gaelic.

But I haven’t because

I am afraid

I can’t live up to the sentiment.

What happened to me

To make me fear being happy.

I don’t want to not be happy.

I don’t want to be afraid anymore.

I want to actually live.

I am afraid.