Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Color Me Azure, Navy, Indigo
This is my two-year zumbaversary, by the way! I started in January of 2011. Over the years I've done aerobics, I've done Nautilus, I've done Jazzercise, but I've never done anything as faithfully and commitedly as zumba. I am the Steadfast Zumba Soldier. Hear me roar!
And I had a nice cup of tomato and roasted pepper soup, some multi-grain pita chips, and a few slices of wasabi cheddar for dinner, took a hot shower, and went to bed early . . .
. . . and then woke up with a migraine and hadn't lost a single pound. Which is not why I'm blue again today, but it sure didn't help.
Here's the thing: I'm worried about my daughter. I can't go into details, but I'm worried, and I'm trying to figure out the best way to help her, and yesterday she and I sat down to talk about her grades (which aren't great right now) and she began to cry and cry and cry. Please understand: Husband and I don't care about her grades, per se; we care that she's learning what she needs to learn and that she feels confident and successful academically, rather than like a failure. But currently she's on the wrong side of the emotional tracks, and I am at a loss.
Tomorrow I meet with her guidance counselor and the school social worker, and we'll see what we can do about getting her more support.
In the meantime . . . I love her as extravagantly and unreservedly and unconditionally as I can, and pray. What else can I do?
Let me tell you: When things are wrong with one of your babies, nothing else feels right in the world.
And I am worried about money, though I try so hard not to be; I have no work scheduled this week (other than Math Practice — thank God for that!), which is always alarming. But I think I figured out a way to pay our insurance monthly, rather than in one fell swoop in January, and that will help a lot; I will set that up tomorrow. Of course, my 15-year-old car is just about to give up the ghost, and we desperately need a new couch, and Husband's car is just about as old as mine . . .
I have zumba again tonight and had planned a lovely dinner of Chinese sausage, sesame noodles, Asian coleslaw, and sauteed snap peas . . . but after a day of Math Practice, "cleaning" a section at the library (my new volunteer job — did I mention it? I started today. Total fun for a book-loving organization freak like me!), grocery shopping, going to the post office (the postal clerk was a total bee-yotch; I said, "This letter is going out of the country," and she barked, "To which country?" "Um," I said, totally blank, ". . . Nova Scotia?" She threw it at me and said, "You need to write CANADA on there." OK, yes, I am a moron, but good Lord, woman, have some compassion; my life as a moron is very challenging), and picking up a present for the birthday party Li'l Martini is attending this weekend . . . I think we're having frozen pizza, and I'm going to drink wine out of the bottle with a straw, or maybe even hard liquor (a Ward 8 is sounding pretty good — J, I wish you were here to share it with me!!), and it's highly possible that I'll be skipping zumba tonight, instead opting for a hot shower and an early bedtime. Even though I know that exercise is the best thing for turning my navy mood a soft sky blue.
Well, we'll see.
OK, so, this was a depressed post. Now you know. Should I eschew blogging when I'm depressed?!
Time to go over Spanish words with Mimosa in prep for tomorrow's test. I took French, I know nothing from Spanish, though I did grow up in California. Hola, chica! Donde esta el taco? That's it. That's all I got.