All in a Day's Work!

Sometimes I kick the Lizard on the eliptical machine in our Engineer's shop upstairs. The space is very industrial-like, but the Engineers also have their offices there. Today I finish kicking it, and am trying to sneak to the elevator without seeing anyone. BUT, our Chief Engineer sees me. The follow ensues.

Chief: "Lisa! Hey, could you help me with something on my computer?"
Lisa: (Mortified as I'm beet red, I stink, and I'm fairly certain that my shirt is soaked with the sweat dripping off my body) I sort of give him a funny look and say, "Uh, sure, I can help... if you need me right now".
Chief: "Yeah, yeah, that would be great!"

We then head to his desk where I help him with a non-emergency IT issue. But the whole time I'm thinking, "Really, this couldn't have waited even 20 minutes so I could go shower?!" Uff da!

Love Songs

Love songs are not always about a relationship between a boy and a girl. Sometimes they are about a father and a daughter. Sometimes they are about sisters. And sometimes they are about friends.

Keri Noble wrote and sings a song called "Watch Me Walk." It's on her self titled album (available at iTunes... shameless plug for a fan-freaking-tastic artist). This song brings me to tears. It's about a relationship that has ended, and she's walking away.

At first I related it to a broken marriage. I'd listen and think, "I never, ever want to feel the need or desire to walk away from my marriage." But as I listened more and more, I related it to the broken relationship between me and my parents. And as much as it sucks that they are not in my life anymore, I'm no longer being suffocated with lies, manipulation, or jealousy. I never wanted to walk away. It wasn't something I was excited to do, but in the end, it was the right thing to do.

I'm a firm believer in breaking ties from toxic relationships. I believe in a healthy mental and emotional life. Abuse sucks, whether it's physical or emotional. And if someone close to me needs to walk away from a relationship that is abusive, I will support that person.

It's not easy. But as Keri sings, "I'm alright with consequences, Better than these fences, Straddling the great unknown, and playing it safe".

I don't trust you

I don't trust you:

to do it as well as I will do it.

to take care of me like I want to be taken care of.

to be interested in me for the long haul.

to understand how I feel.

to always be there.

But:

you will do your best when I ask for your help.

you will take care of me the best that you can.

you will always want to hear me talk.

you will feel for me nonetheless.

you will always be there.

The Lizard Brain

So a few people have asked me "What's with the Lizard Brain"? and I've decided it's time to explain.

The short answer as described by my friend Ms. Lane: For our intents and purposes, it is that b!tch part of your brain that says "you can't do it - go sit on the couch instead"

The long answer is also from Ms. Lane. See we were on a walk about beautiful Lake Harriet when I started talking to her about how I was dissatisfied with my body image. I was describing how I've slowly realized that I've let myself go. I was no longer confident, let alone healthy. I also told her that I just haven't found a motivating factor to jump start my workouts or healthy eating.

She kind of giggled at me (her giggle makes me giggle, and then we get yelled at for being loud and it's back to the basement for us, but I digress). Then she said, "You're listening to your Lizard Brain too much." I said, "wha?" Then she explained:

See back in the day dinosaurs were so large that they had to have two brains. One controlled the top half of their bodies, and the other one controlled the bottom half. And as dinosaurs evolved they had less and less need for the second brain. Turns out lizards today still have an area near their tail where their old brain used to grow. This is the brain that keeps them down. The Lizard Butt Brain that says, "Meh, you don't need to take care of yourself", or "Dude, don't go for a walk, just sit on the couch", or "Go ahead, eat the whole entire pizza!".

The Lizard Butt Brain, or Lizard Brain, or Lizard, or LB for short, is that part of you that says "You can't". But you CAN! And all you have to do is kick the Lizard Butt Brain to the curb. Go ahead, give it a kick. It feels good!!!

Every Day

Every day is a chance to improve or make a change. It could even be said that every moment during the day is a chance to improve or make a change. Every time I have to make a choice, I have the opportunity to improve who I am.

I talk about change right now because I'm feeling overwhelmed. If I were to be completely honest, I would say I'm feeling overwhelmed and fat. I can't believe how many poor choices I've made over the last year that have caused me to gain the amount of weight I have gained. I can't believe how much I've let myself go. I chose to indulge in tasty treats, relaxing ways, and over abundance of vino!

But every day, every moment I have an opportunity to change. I have a chance to get myself back to a healthy weight. Healthy to me is also attractive. So my need to lose weight is two-fold: 1 to be healthy, and 2 to have confidence in my looks again.

So I try to make multiple choices throughout the day that will bring me to a better weight. I try to remind myself that I am my own worst critic, but I also get to control myself. Each choice can lead me down a healthy, happy path.

It IS better with a boa

Even Big 10 football players know it's better with a boa. The Hawkeyes are 7-0 on the season, and are kicking some serious butt.

See those two hot chicks in this picture? THEY are wearing boas. THEIR team wins! Duh!

I'm a big kid now

Last week I found a sock. I found this sock under a bed. This bed is in our guest room, and the sock was a white bootie with a pink toe and heel. I knew immediately that the sock belongs to my sister. For those of you who know me well, know that my older sister is one of my closest friends. And for those of you who know both of us, know that she moved into our home earlier this year to separate from her husband.

I'll cut to the chase and tell you that her separation story has a happy ending. She and my brother in law are doing great back in their own home. As I like to tell people who ask how they are doing, "They are fighting like normal people do." Her story of this journey can be found on her blog (specifically during March and April).

But my story of this sock is a little different. I saw this sock, and was hit with a wave of memories. Memories full of tears, memories full of laughter. See the sock was a reminder that my sister came to me when she was in desperate need of support. She looked to her little sister to be a shoulder to cry on, a voice of reason, and comic relief. And during the time that she stayed with us I was forced to grow up quickly.

There have been other times during my life that I was forced to grow up quickly. Seeing the lone sock under the bed reminded me of some of those times:

• Like the time that I was 11 years old and my sister was in a car accident. I was brought to the funeral home to help pick out a coffin for my stillborn niece. Grew up fast there.
• Or what about the time I wrote a letter to my 8th grade English teacher about how awful my mom was to me. My teacher ignored my cry for help and I was forced to grow up and deal with my mom on my own. Grew up fast again.
• There was also a time that I finally had enough courage to state an emotional boundary to my parents and I let them know that I no longer wanted a relationship with my mom. It took courage to look at my Dad and let him know that I wanted her out of my life, but that I still wanted to build a relationship with him. I grew up so fast when his response was "It's either both of us or nothing."

The sock reminded me of a lot of things. Most of all it reminded me that I'm not the little girl I once was. Instead, I'm a woman... still growing up.

Sometimes I forget

Sometimes my life is going so well, and my emotions are so level that I forget I am bi-polar. Sometimes I forget that I'm a raging rollercoaster, and I can snap with nearly no warning.

Then there are times like last night, when I see things that remind me just how brittle my emotions can be. Watching the season premier of House last night made me remember that I've been there.

I've been the one who wasn't allowed sharp scissors during arts and crafts because they were a hazard to my (and other's) health. I've been the one who slept in that hospital bed, with her little booties and standard hospital pajamas. I've been the one who hit rock bottom for no apparent reason.

Sometimes I forget. Then I remember. And sometimes remembering hurts.

Being on the fence

I hate being on the fence. I hate the feeling of knowing the pros and cons of both sides of an issue, and not being able to firmly agree with ONE side. The unsettling feeling of being unsure is horrible.

And so, when it comes to the topic of Brian and I becoming parents, we are... on the fence! There are definite reasons that we do not want to be parents. Unfortunately, there are also definite reasons we do want to be parents. My anxiety stems from the fact that neither side is extremely compelling. Sure, our lives as we know them would change drastically. And of course most of our relationships (including our marriage) would change as well. But to quote my sister, "change is not the enemy". Really, it's not terrible.

I am glad that in regards to this whole topic, Brian and I are on the same page. We both agree that there are plenty of reasons on both the "to have" and "not to have" sides of this issue. And we agree on what those reasons are too. He hit the nail on the head when he said, "It's just that things are easier when they just happen, not when you have to anticipate it constantly." Well said my hot hubby, well said.

On the fence sucks. But I'm happy to be on the same fence with my awesome, sweet, hot husband.

When the going gets tough...

It's been a few weeks since I've thrown my thoughts and feelings out into cyber space. I've been a little reserved when it comes to baring my soul. I guess it's because it was hard enough to admit to myself that I wasn't feeling quite "right", let alone admit it to the interwebs.

But it's true, I have been on the down cycle of my emotions over the last month or so. What started as being in a rut, turned into me being depressed. I forgot to tap into my support system, and let everything that was bothering me grow into a mean and messy monster of emotions. My husband and I became disconnected, and I began secluding myself from having any sort of deep conversation.

I avoided opening up at all costs, and learned to put on a show of functionality. This show didn't last long because I am not someone who deals well with things on my own. It's easier for me to figure things out if I lean on others, and talk things through. Eventually I was confronted by some caring friends, and I had to answer the question, "Are you alright?"

I wasn't alright. I wasn't even fine. I was terrible, lost, lonely, and scared. I had to ask for what I needed most. And asking for emotional support is not easy for me. Looking at someone and admitting I need help takes a lot of courage. To some, it comes easy. But to me, it's painful.

"Things" are better now. Not exactly all taken care of, but better. And every day that I don't hide my feelings from those who love me is a good day. I'm back on the cyber webs, putting myself out there!

What's your Chicken Piccata?

When I was a teenager I had a picture of what a wife looked like. This picture was NOTHING like the wife that was also my mother. The picture I had of a wife was pretty, nice, welcoming, clean, and most importantly could cook. My picture especially involved that one signature meal that would knock the socks off any guest, but more importantly would rock my husband's world.

For a long, long time I put that picture away. I especially let go of the idea a signature meal as I wasn't confident in my cooking abilities. I was a single girl who quit college, worked as a waitress, and ate at Mickey's Diner at 3:30am most mornings. Cooking wasn't fun, or needed. And creating a signature dish wasn't necessary either.

Then I started to grow up. I started dating Brian, started to settle down, went back to college, got my first Corporate America job, and eventually got married. I was a wife. Oh shit! Where's that picture I had in my head??? I should probably review it!

I started cooking for my husband and he (along with my wonderful Sissy) convinced me that I am in fact a great cook. I started experimenting, and got creative. I found recipes that looked wonderful and tried them out.

Along the lines I found Chicken Piccata. Fried chicken in a lemon caper sauce over noodles. Uh, hello... what is not to love here? I found my signature dish. I found something that I can cook for guests or for my own family and it will please them. It's a dish that says to my husband, "I love you so much that I am making my best just for you."

Chicken Piccata is my peace offering, my welcome mat, my best first impression. It's how I wow people, and make them feel comfortable in my home. Do you have a Chicken Piccata? Do you have that signature dish?

Turns out...

I constantly learn things about myself. It's strange to say that considering I am me, and I should know who I am better than anyone else, right?! But it's true, it seems that nearly every day I learn something about myself.

Over the last couple of weeks I have learned two new things. Turns out that I A.) am a cheerleader and B.) enjoy walking.

A. I've played softball and volleyball for about as long as I can remember. I've never been exceptional at these two sports, but I've always enjoyed playing. I always give it my best, and my all.

But it turns out that I, Lisa Elizabeth McIntyre, am a CHEERLEADER!!! I LOVE cheering people on! I love the encouragement, the positive words, and the excitement. I love giving people I love the extra verbal boost they need.

I love making signs for people when they are competing in races. I love wearing feather boas and being excited. I love cheering!

B. Holy smokes, I hate running. It's exhausting, and sweaty, and nasty. But holy smokes, I LOVE walking! It's exhaustingly refreshing! It's an accomplished sweaty-ness! And it's a nasty addiction! I've only been power walking for about a week now, but I'm in love.

I especially love walking during the day. I love getting out of my stuffy office to get some sun on my face. I love breathing in the fresh air. I love cranking up the tunes and forgetting about my cube for a while. It's awesome!

I like learning about myself. And it turns out, I'm liking myself more and more as I get to know myself better.

Honesty: the best policy

Telling the truth can be easy, hard, scary, helpful, and sometimes it can even be healing. Tonight I was able to tell the truth about something that in the end made me feel very whole and a bit healed.

I was approached by an old family acquaintance tonight after playing a game of volleyball. As I was giving the quick "this is where my life has gone over the past 10 years" speech I could feel that one subject would be sure to come up. And it did. Below is the conversation we had. I'll call this woman Shelly for sake of anonymity.

Shelly: Well, it was nice to see you. Tell your mom I said, "Hi".

Me: oh, uh, okay.

Shelly: Oh, don't you talk to your mom?

Me: Uh, (and this is where I'm hit in the head with confidence) no. No, I don't talk to her.

Shelly: Oh, really?! Well, is she okay, are your parents still together?

Me: Yeah, I think so. I think they are still in Buffalo. I really don't have a relationship with them. I finally decided that enough was enough. It was too toxic.

Shelly: Oh. Hmm, well, how is your sister?

Me: Great! She and her husband are raising their 3 kids in Shakopee.

Shelly: Well, does she talk to your mom?

Me: No. Some terrible things have happened in recent years that caused us to make a break from that relationship. My mom has some mental issues, sicknesses that she doesn't address. She doesn't take care of herself, and is very toxic.

Shelly: Yeah! She and Suzy were always a couple of nutcases.

And this is where we move out of the subject and back into less heavy conversation. But it got me thinking about how good it felt to tell the truth. It was quite a weight lifted from my shoulders to not lie about my lack of relationship with my parents. And it felt even better to be open about why there isn't a relationship there. I don't have to lie to protect them. Her illness is not my fault, nor is it my responsibility.

It hasn't been, and isn't always, easy to not have my parents in my life. I miss my Dad at times. He and I were always close. I miss celebrating with him, and his advice.

And I certainly miss the mom I could have had. I miss the mother figure that would have been my friend and not my enemy. The mother who would have shared things with me, instead of selfishly ruining events. I miss the mother who wouldn't compete against me. I miss the mother who could have taught me life lessons on how to really love, and how to be a good friend. The mother who could answer any question I had about life, and one who would be proud of me. I miss something I never had.

But tonight it was healing for me to tell the truth. Tonight, honesty was by far the best policy.

My Security Blanket(s)

My sister and her family picked Brian and I up from the airport a week ago. I had been missing her so much, even though we both texted, called, and emailed the entire time I was away. We were in constant communication, but there was something about being gone that made my heart hurt.

A few days after being home I figured out what was making me hurt. I didn't have one of my oldest and most reliable security blankets with me on my trip. I figured out that my sister is my security net! I feel safe, warm, calm, and level headed when I know that she is near. My heart and mind are at ease when I know that if I really, really needed my sister all I'd have to do is pick up the phone and tell her to come be with me. And within 30 minutes of that phone call she'd be there.

It makes me feel at ease to know that she's only a phone call and 30 minutes away. I am comforted by the fact that she'd drop anything and she'd be with me. Now this isn't something that I test from time to time, because I'm not that sister who cries wolf. But I know it to be true because we both have done it for each other in the past.

Kimberly is just one of my security blankets. I also feel most calm when Brian is home with me. When we cook together and relax, I feel like I could take on anything. He is truly my rock, my other half, my soul mate. He calms me down, and excites me. He makes me laugh, and takes care of me when I cry. Brian is my slow and steady. He is my newest security blanket.

When my sister got out of her van to help us with our luggage I dropped my bags and ran to her arms. I squealed with delight and had tears in my eyes when I was in her embrace. Coming home felt so good. And I once again felt secure.

The Happy Face

Sometimes I have to put on my "happy face". Most times when I have to do this, I don't really like what I'm doing. I mean, really, if I have to put it on, then it's forced. I'm obviously not really happy if I'm just putting on that face.

My sister said that she's impressed with how well I put on my happy face. She says that people have been wrong all these years about me not having any patience. I guess in a way she's right. I am pretty good about going along with things because I know it makes people in my life happy. I don't usually go along with just anything though... usually if I'm putting up with something it's because I really truly care about the people I'm with at the time.

But sometimes putting on my happy face is draining. It can be overwhelming to be happy all the time, and to go with the flow. Sometimes I need to stick up for my own wants and desires. Sometimes this leads to crying like a big baby. And usually I feel better.

I guess the happy face is okay for a while. But reality needs to set in, and I need to be okay with my true emotions too.

My reasons for not wanting children... 6/15/09

(For the purpose of the blog post, the word "most" more or less = 9 out of 10)

Most days I don't want to have kids of my own. Most people look at me like I'm crazy when the subject of having kids comes up. Most people try to convince me that having kids is the most amazing thing I'll ever do in life. Most people think I'd be an "excellent mother". I have many reasons why I don't want to have kids.

Here is a list of them:

1. I'm freaking independent! Some days I'm amazed that I got married! It takes a lot of compromise to be married, and seriously I like things my way! I truly don't want to make decisions that have to account for more than myself, my husband, or our dog. It's enough already that they are involved in decision making. Case in point: my coworker doesn't want to go to an all expense paid Twins game because it's too close to his wife's due date. Ugh, I'd rather not consider due dates and baby sitters when it comes to making plans.
2. Kids never go away! You give birth to them and they are a part of your life FOREVER. Even the kids that can't stand you and they disown you. Case in point: Uh, hello... I know you think about us constantly! We are still a huge part of your life even though you are NOT a part of our lives!
3. I like spending my disposable income. Case in point: I like spending my disposable income so much that my brother in law has commented more than once that I am excellent at supporting economies! It's true, I like to spend money. I work for it, I'm going to spend it... on myself!!!
4. You can't put a baby in a cage and leave the house for 8 hours. Duh, even I know that!
5. I like drinking gin and juice until the wee hours of the morning. And I like playing Rockband with the TV volume turned up to 80.
6. I like my relationship with my husband just the way it is. I like that most days we are happy and blissful. But when we aren't blissful, it's down right nasty. I don't want a kid involved in that! And I also don't want to give it up. Sometimes I like to fight damn it!

I'll keep being the auntie. And I'll keep getting excited with each baby that is born into my life. And I will treasure those babies as they grow to be toddlers, kiddos, pre-teens, teenagers, young adults and hopefully adults.

Yes, a part of me does get sad that I'm not into the baby making scene. It's not that I'm sad I'm not having babies... it's that I'm sad that I don't want those things. It is what it is.

And you know what... tomorrow may be the 1 out of 10 days that I change my mind about not wanting babies and I'll want to be a mother. But for now, MOST days I don't want to have kids.

Admitting Defeat

While I was wandering aimlessly through Cub this past weekend I noticed a girl who was about 17-19 years old. She was tall, slim, and fairly pretty. But those features were not what I noticed first. The first thing that drew my attention was the single color random tattoo across one half of her face.

As the super judgemental person I am, my first thought was, "How could she have admitted defeat so early?!" I mean seriously, she couldn't have been older than 20 years old and she has marked up her face with permanent ink. She would not be taken seriously by most of Corporate America, as well as most blue collar employers. Cripes, she's probably not even taken seriously by the people in her life.

And I felt badly for her. How terrible was her life that she admitted defeat and gave up on a future at such a young age? Was she really destined to be a failure? Was her past, and her upbringing so terrible that she could not triumph in life?

Then I thought about my own life, and my own failures. I thought about how often I admit defeat and how quickly I give up. Why is it that my marriage is worth fighting for (saying "I do" is definitely NOT admitting defeat)? What is it about having an active lifestyle that I have such a hard time staying on top of? Why am I so freaking hard on myself (Mother Freaking Self-hater?)?

I don't like to admit defeat. I don't have to give up on myself, or my friends and family. I am happy to wake up each morning and try, try again. Losing sucks, so I'm not going to lose to myself!

What did you do?

Recently I went away on a romantic weekend with my husband. We badly needed some time together as he had just finished working 80+ hours a week during the Tax Season. We decided to take a short road trip to Duluth, MN. We got a couple of recommendations on places to stay and eat, and things to do.



So when I got back to work on Monday morning, my coworkers wanted to know what we "did". I couldn't tell them what we actually did because it wasn't work appropriate. So my answer was "We just hung out, and relaxed." This was not a sufficient answer and I was pressed for more details. I sort of laughed and said, "No really, we just relaxed. We took a weekend away, just the two of us. It was nice". The response was looks of irritation and disapointment. As if the report of my weekend was going to get them out of a case of the MUN-days.

But, just to prove that we actually did stuff in Duluth, I am providing a top ten list of things we did over the weekend. Had I not engaged my verbal filter, my coworkers would have learned that:

1. We had sex... Quick "let's just do it" sex and slow "let's take our time" sex.
2. We drank a lot of alcohol and ate some tasty foods.
3. We had sex.
4. We played cards (rummy, speed, crazy 8's) and a board game called "Let's F*ck".
5. We had sex.
6. We visited the zoo.
7. We got kicked out of a bar (okay, just I got kicked out, but he gathered my belongings for me)
8. We had sex.
9. We played shuffleboard!!!
10. We had sex!

Now really... would that have made those pesky coworkers happy???

An Anniversary

Yesterday was an anniversary. It wasn't a happy anniversary dotted with gifts and cake. It wasn't even a proud anniversary to celebrate sobriety, or renewal. It wasn't a sad anniversary, like the loss of a World Series game. Or even a mournful anniversary of a death.

April 22nd is the anniversary of a heart attack. A mighty strong man did not have a strong heart, and it gave out on April 22nd, 2008.

Gerald is the father of Amy, who is a close friend of mine. He was a loving husband, smart farmer, and stubborn German to boot. His smile could melt your heart, and his hugs could crush your ribs. He was a man of pride and respect.

One of my favorite memories of Gerald actually involves a boa!!! Brian and I had been dating for about 2 years when we went to Iowa City for the Hawkeye vs. Badger game at Kinnick. We spent the day with Amy and her brother in law. At the end of the game we drove back to Denver, IA (the mile WIDE city). Amy's parents were at the Whiskey Junction where we met with them and others for dinner and drinks. I had met Amy's family a few times and knew them well. Brian, on the other hand, was still new at getting to know the family.

It took Gerald about 15 minutes to corner Brian and ask him what his intentions were with me. Poor Brian was like a deer in the headlights. Here he was, enjoying an ice cold beer and minding his own business when a near stranger approaches him to ask if he is going to marry me. Gerald absolutely loved watching Brian squirm under this interrogation! And I loved it too!

That night, Gerald wore my Hawkeye boa. And he laughed, he played cards, and he danced with his wife. Gerald lived life happily and fully. He passed away on May 4th. Never recovering from the effects of his heart attack. It's almost as though we lost him twice. I'm thankful for knowing him, and for still knowing his family today.



Here's to you Gerald... "When they built you brother, they broke the mold" (Bruce Springsteen, Terry's Song)

Follower!

Holy shit! I have a follower!!! Someone has decided that she wants to declare to the world that my writing is worth reading. I'm, uh, what's the word here... amazed!!!

I think the thing that most excites me about having my first follower is that she's not A) my sister B) a complete stranger or C) a mean person. In fact, my first follower is someone who at one point in my life was my closest friend. She was my "twin". She was that person that always understood my goofy-ness, and in fact, joined in on my crazy adventures.

It's been a while since I had been in contact with her. A while, being 10+ years!!! But through technology (okay, just Facebook), we reconnected. And while I am excited to have her in my life again, I am not at all surprised that I quite enjoy it. She saw me through some pretty rough stuff as a kid. She helped me play tricks on neighbor kids that didn't deserve it. She helped me laugh myself through scary nights. And I'm happy that we have found a way to re-connect.

We'll go out on the town with boas soon enough. We'll raise glasses to memories and toast the future. Because truly, everything is better with a boa!

Quick Intro...

It's true... everything is better with a boa. Wearing a boa is like wearing fun! And who doesn't want to dress in fun?! Boas are funky, exciting, sexy, and silly. You put one on and feel ready to go!


A very good friend once said, "Oh my God it's a boa! Pick it up! It's a boa". Her excitement still puts a smile on my face! For crying out loud... if you see a boa, pick it up! Put on a little fun!