Author: livinginreverie

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Now Click Your Heels Together Three Times and Say…

There’s no place like home

I’ve heard the expression home is where the heart is a million times. It immediately conjures images of country craft décor like cross-stitched pillow or framed photo. I think of some place like Cracker Barrel selling this clichéd phrase on many of its pieces. While there is some truth to it, I like to think of Miss Dorothy Gale from the Wizard of Oz. Her words ring more true with me, as there truly is no place like home.

At 18, I wanted nothing more than to get away from Greenville, S.C. Although I was only three hours away and still near quite a bit of family, I felt like I moved “away” when I enrolled at the University of Tennessee. The only one from my high school at UT, I was beyond thrilled to move away and make friends and start a new life. NEVER would I have thought I’d move back to Greenville, marry a guy from Greenville and go to my same church as a child.

But with age comes wisdom, or perhaps laziness, and I am definitely much older (not sure if any wiser) and I am back in Greenville. Well, right outside the city limits in Powdersville. But my point is that being back “home” is exactly where I want to be.

I spoke with an old friend this past weekend who had fallen on hard times and decided to move “home.” He quit his job, got divorced and is moving to Greenville. Although he hasn’t lived here in 12 years and really hasn’t even visited much, this is still his home.  He realized after many years of shunning the city where he grew up, it was actually the one place he could always go back to. He is no longer ashamed and is leaving the big city life to come home to a quieter place.

But it is actually not that quiet here. In fact, I think he will be quite surprised to see what our city has become when he returns. Greenville is constantly on every nationwide list for up-and-coming cities, best places for young professionals, fastest growth, best manufacturing, top for outdoors, etc. I’m sure we’re not at the top of every list but I know we are on many of them. In fact, here is a fantastic video showcasing some of the amazing things in Greenville: http://www.greenvillehd.com/. We are three hours to the beach, 30 to the mountains, 1.5 hours to Charlotte, 2 hours to Atlanta, affordable real estate, decent-to-good job market, a home to a million art and food and wine festivals, amazing restaurants, beautiful parks and my new favorite, the Swamp Rabbit bike trail. It’s 26 miles of paved trails through the woods from one city to another.

Like my aforementioned friend, I once fell on hard times and lost my job and needed to move home. I was house-less but not home-less. My parents let me move in, gave me some strict rules ( I was 25) but let me live there rent-free until I got back on my feet. They provided meals and some guidance, albeit not what I always wanted to hear, and took me in. Not too much later I met a guy I would later marry and started my writing career.

I bought my first home, in Greenville. Met my husband, in Greenville. Got a dog, had a child, bought another home, all outside of, but still near—Greenville. My husband’s entire family lives in Greenville and with the exception of my sister, my immediate family is here too. My son will grow up getting to see ALL of his grandparents within a 20-minute drive. This excites me like no other because he will have an abundance of experiences with them that will provide a lifetime of memories.

I love being able to go to the same church where I grew up. I was confirmed there, married there, my son was baptized there and now my husband is a member as well. It too, is home. There are people still there who knew me when I was a baby and some who can’t believe my family has been members for that long. NEVER did I think my husband and I would join a church 25 minutes away. I thought for sure we would go somewhere near our house because just getting to church on a Sunday was hard enough. Adding 30 minutes to the drive was even more ludicrous. Yet when we kept going back and becoming more involved, I realized it was my church HOME. And S. felt the same way…he felt at HOME there too. So now, it is our home on Sundays and sometimes Saturdays, Wednesdays and as soon as basketball season starts, probably Thursdays too.

My ramblings today just reinforce what I already know: that it is good to be home. There’s no place I’d rather be, not even Tennessee. We may be rednecks in South Carolina but like the license plate says, nothing could be finer.

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Do What Makes You Happy

Today I got on the scale. I was hoping for a big number. I completely obeyed my Weight Watchers plan. Stayed within my points. Got extra activity points for Zumba, Spin Class, Swimming, Jogging/Walking and Weight training. I had three beers all week. I cooked things like grilled chicken caprese with very little cheese and zucchini oven-baked chips instead of fries. I went to the farmers’ market and bought fresh produce. I ate bulgur, black beans, quinoa and lots and lots of lettuce. I ate protein, drank lots and lots of water. Ate lots and lots of veggies. Are we seeing at theme here?

I entered my WW class where people where every week we clap for the people in the class to acknowledge their accomplishments. Each week I keep thinking they will hopefully clap for me. After all, I’m making healthy changes each week and trying to be more active. Just this past week alone I did five completely different workouts. My son found it particularly interesting to see me do the Zumba Wii game and giggled with delight at my attempts of Latin dancing. If it were American Idol or the Gong show I would have been booted off immediately. But I kept on dancing. My calf is bruised to hell from the spin bike episode where my bike was the wrong size (see earlier post) and apparently I was still not even riding it correctly. To think I’ve done triathlons yet can’t even ride a stationery bike without injuring myself in some way. And I swam, which was sheer delight, even though my 800 yards were not quite the time I would have liked. But hopefully tomorrow I’ll swim 1000!

So today, I thought, this would be my big week. Maybe 2 pounds lost? “you’ve maintained your weight from last week” She said. MAINTAINED? As in, did not even lose an ounce? Which yes, they count the ounces. I wanted to scream W-T-F at the bubbly teacher but decided against it. I sulked privately, sat down in the back of the room and listened as we celebrated so and so’s 5 percent loss, so and so’s 10 percent loss and one girl even reached her goal weight!

I walked across campus back to my office (2 activity points) and found an email waiting for me. It said, Do one thing every day that makes you happy. I started thinking about this and realized how much I love it. I think it’s easy to get caught up in all the fast-paced, millions of things we must do every day. If I want to drink a glass of wine because it makes me happy, so be it (just need to log my points in my Weight Watchers queue). If it makes me happy to let my son stay up 15 minutes later, and probably makes him happy too, so be it. We are not guaranteed another day on this planet and while I am trying very hard to make myself healthier, I need to make sure I am happy too.

I think I forget sometimes to do something just for the sake of pure enjoyment. It’s so hard to get into a routine, esp during the week, that maybe I forget to get off of auto-pilot and do something like drive the long way round or stop to smell the proverbial flowers. To me, rolling down the windows and singing at the top of my lungs makes me happy. It doesn’t add any calories nor hurt anyone else, except maybe the passenger in my car or the person I drive by who crashes from laughing so hard.

But mostly I thought about the email and how I don’t need to beat myself up for not being a certain number on the scale. If I know I am eating healthy and being active more days than not, then that’s the best I can ask of myself right now. But life will sure be a lot happier if I take one moment a day to do something that makes me happy. Thankfully, food does not make me happy but rather a long phone call with a friend does. Playing my guitar for 20 minutes and going through old photo albums. These are things that maybe I forget to do because I’m so focused on other activities. But now on, I will try to do at least one thing a day that makes me happy. I’m guessing some of the other struggles will come much easier.

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Yoga Pants = Love?

I was recently asked to marry two friends, V & N. While I can’t say I’ve known them for a long time, I feel very connected to them, the bride in particular. When asked to be their officiant, I was quite surprised yet flattered. Although I will not be legally marrying them (bc God has not asked me to be an Ordained minister), I will be leading the ceremony in front of their 300 closest friends. This is quite a task. I’ve been taking notes here and there and thinking about my own wedding. Thinking about how so many people are so happy to get to the reception that I wonder how many actually listen to the words that others (and dare i say the bride and groom themselves) recite. Perhaps this will be good for my nerves if no one is actually listening. But for the couple’s sake, I hope they are at least 🙂

In trying to plan for this wedding I am thinking about the word love and how it has so many meanings. As a wordsmith and fan of all the nuances found in the English language, I am a sucker for homonyms and words with multiple meanings. Love doesn’t really fall into those two categories but it is probably one of the most subjective words we have. It can mean something different to all of us. I feel love when I look at my son every day. And I love being a wife, mother, daughter, friend and sister. We can say we love our job or we love our home. Those are feelings we have toward something, almost like an adjective. But how does one define love? How do you define love?

I remember the first time my husband told me he loved me. We were at a bar, listening to jazz music with friends in Tennessee. I had taken him WAY out of his comfort zone (he hates jazz) and drug him to Tennessee with me to see Trey Anastasio (he wasn’t a huge fan at the time) in concert. The next day, he went with me to a Tennessee football game (also a first) and on Sunday, went to meet my ENTIRE extended family. Somewhere in between all of the action-packed weekend events, he found love in those “firsts” with me. Without a doubt I can say he is the love of my life. I knew early on that our relationship was something special. Not one to jinx things, I cannot say i knew right away I would marry him. But i knew we had a love worth fighting for and figuring out.

To me, love is when you go from being in lust, you see someone’s faults and imperfections and you are okay with them because the good outweighs the bad. Love is unconditional in its realest form and sustains time and generations. Love is when you can wear your  yoga pants and a T-shirt and feel sweaty from the gym, hair a mess, and your husband tells you how beautiful you are. Love is your father playing on the ground with your son in a hilarious game of peekaboo. Love is two friends drinking wine, laughing so hard it comes out of their noses when retelling a hilarious story from their past. To me, love is all around in even the simplest of tasks.

I hope I will be able to find the words to make my two friends proud to have me unite them in matrimony. I hope to define love in a way that will resonate solely with them and make their day special. They probably didn’t know just how much I felt loved when they asked me to marry them, but I do. It is something I feel truly honored with and cannot wait to be a part of. Even if i don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Maybe I should recite the things I just wrote. Hmm…I wonder if V wears yoga pants?

Early love…

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Spin Cycle

In my quest for exercising more and being healthier, I’ve recently done a 5k and then today, went to a spin class. I had done both before but it’s been at least two years since I did the cyclical torture known as a Spin Class. The 5k went well and the spin class I survived but wow did it remind me how out of shape I am.

I showed up right on time and found about 20 girls, about 20 years old, and a super-fit instructor yelling over music I’d never heard. I wonder how well I would do if they blared Phish at spin class. Knowing me I would fall off from the pseudo dancing I would find myself doing.

At first, I overlooked the fact that my bike’s seat was not adjusting and someone who was about 4’11 must have ridden it before me. My knees were giving my face black eyes and I finally realized that this would not be sustainable for the next 45 mins. So i switched to another bike, which was again broken, and tried to find a third. Meanwhile, the girls next to me were climbing the hill to oblivion and I couldn’t even get on the damn bike. Hoping the third time was the charm, I found a bike a decent height and got on, only to realize it was meant for people who wear shoes with built in clips. Hmm, I looked down at my Brooks sneaks and no top clips there. Strike three. Finally, i was now at the end of the room, the girls around me were now sprinting to some “Don’t Stop Believing” and i find a bike. I am too ready to get on the thing to even bring it up to join the rest of the class (a good thing i later realized) and decide to start spinning in the back.

I somehow make it through the class, although I will admit, I could not stand up and ride the entire time. But when i did sit down, and immediately had butt pains from the skinny-ass seat (pun intended), I pedaled as fast as I could. I looked down at the ground and focused, reminding myself that I was doing this to be a better me. ALthough i was almost twice as old as the girls around me, I kept on pedaling and was proud of myself for getting out of the comfort zone and getting back in a class. Tomorrow on the agenda is swimming and Friday, Zumba–an old fave.

Total Weight Watchers Loss= 4.6. Today’s Weigh-In= .06 down. Not very much but more than half a pound. This week i challenge myself to get in lots of cardio and healthy foods. We’ll see how next week’s weigh-in goes.

5K

C is excited to reach the finish line

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Goodbye Fat Lady

I’ve always been fat. Not just overweight, but fat. Growing up maybe not as much and in high school not nearly what I am today, but I was never the skinny girl. I was thankfully not ever one to let it get in the way of most things I wanted in life but there have been a few stings here and there that kept me in check regarding how I really looked in the mirror. Sadly those have come more from my parents than teasing classmates, which I’ve never understood. They must think I’m blind in both eyes and never look in the mirror. But I’ve never been in denial, I’ve just never let it be something that I let depress me. But I’ve also never really taken much care of the situation until a few years back.

In 2005, after a  life-altering car wreck, I decided it was time to make some changes in my life. Not just my weight but my entire outlook on things. I completely changed my diet and began exercising. It was so liberating. I changed my way of thinking and became more positive. I dubbed it, “The Year of the Bac.” I saw dramatic changes in my overall health and the scale began to move down. I completed something I’d never thought possible: a triathlon, and came in next to last. Still, I had won in my eyes by completing it and was moving in a new direction.

With the above changes came the love of my life and the next few happiest years of my life. I had a job I wanted and had dreamed of, the man of my dreams, a nice home that I owned and the knowledge and power to make myself be who I wanted to be. I never became skinny-mini but I felt and was healthy. And now looking at pictures, I know I was in the best shape I’d been in since high school.

We all know that getting married can sometimes equal weight gain and I slipped into some old habits like a comfortable shoe. Slowly, weight has crept back and I’ve found myself with no excuses for why I quit working out. I had a baby and actually Lost weight believe it or not so I can’t say it’s baby fat lurking around. And now that my husband is back on the day shift for working AND I have a free gym membership in my same building at work, I can’t really pretend there is any other reason for why I’m not working out.

The thing is, I do love working out. I love the feeling of power, I love the competition with myself and I love the results. I know nothing worth doing comes easy and I am not looking for a quick fix.

So with knowledge comes power and because I have already been down this road before, and know it is possible, I am not afraid. It is more that I HAVE to make some changes if I want to be healthy for my baby and attractive to my husband. I know he loves me no matter what but I want to feel my best for him and myself. And now, I do not.

So I’m going to make 2013 the Year of J B Clark. (Since the Year of The Bac is already over). But it will start in 2012. It just might take a few months into 2013 to really see results, hah. I’ve joined Weight Watchers at work,, which is going well. I’m getting back in the pool, on the bike and walking. And most important, I am going to do another triathlon next spring/summer. I’ll chronicle my road to my success year here. Day one in the pool begins in a few hours. Sadly, I doubt I’ll swim more than a 500. But you gotta start somewhere, right?

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Planning a Weekend Staycation with C.

This weekend, Thursday actually, my husband is descending on a three-day/night camping trip with friends at the coast. it’s a guys’ getaway and one that I am sure will no doubt be memorable for them. As they celebrate a friends’ birthday on a deserted island, I know they will have a blast leaving their wives and children behind for a few days to probably act about the same age as they were when many of them met, grade school. All kidding aside, last year i was the mother of a two-month-old when this camping trip ensued. I rode down with my husband and stayed at my sister’s so I could have some help. Being a first-time mom with a two month old, a weekend alone seemed like an eternity to me so I needed help.

This year, i am actually looking forward to our weekend alone. One of my best friends is coming over for a girl’s night and pizza and movies. Saturday I’m hitting up the Farmer’s Market downtown to sample some good local food and music. Then hitting up the nearby park for some exercise and playtime with C. Later that day, going to C’s girlfriend’s house and my close friends’ house for some football and poker. Should be a great mix and busy day perfect for wiping out a 14 month old. Sunday we’ll go to church and I’m excited to check out the children’s museum in town. Apparently it’s the 10th biggest in the world and just 15 mins away!

As cheesy as it sounds, I’m looking forward to some uninterrupted time with my son and me. My husband I’m sure is looking forward to some uninterrupted time with his friends, as I think that is very healthy for a marriage and parenthood. I’m sure by Sunday i will be welcoming the help, esp since we don’t have much of a napper in our kid. But i’m finding myself looking forward to discovering all of the family-friendly places in town this weekend and checking them out. I’m not sure who will have more fun. As a mom, there is nothing more exciting than seeing something through your child’s eyes. Yesterday we had 10 mins of laughter about a light switch and how turning it off was so neat. It’s the little things like that that are so funny and i never would have expected.

i used to look forward to the weekends for sleep and late nights and intoxicated conversations. I probably still would look forward to that if that were my weekend agenda but having a child takes that away, at least on a regular basis. But now I’m finding myself enjoying this amazing weather and looking forward to the time my little chubby-yet-itty-bitty-boy and I can spend together. We’ll see after Sunday if all of my plans come to fruition. I might need to just spend some hours relaxing with him as well. But a girl can plan right?

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Anyone But Me

Working on a college campus keeps me young. Yes, I realize I am automatically old by even uttering those words, but I get to see the hip new trends (not that I ever really adopt them) and reminisce about my college years on a regular basis. I work with students everyday who are so intelligent and amazing that I feel like such a loser sometimes when I think back on my college experience.

But then I think back about all the amazing times I DID have, and I am so honored to have experienced them. I was a timer for the men’s swim team and met some of my best friends and witnessed some amazing swimming. I was a lifeguard and was happy to work on campus for several semesters. I was a nanny to a family that became my second mother for a while. I switched majors to creative writing from advertising and made some awesome contacts, mentors and friends who shared my love of Chaucer, Shakespeare and transcendentalism. I wasn’t captain of this club or a member of eight honor societies but I sure felt involved most days.

But besides walking across the stage (I almost missed it too bc of being late!) my most favorite thing about college is the friends I made. Many today are my lifelong friends and others have come and gone. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about friendships and relationships and why some work and some don’t. And why some aren’t the same after many years no matter how hard you try to hold on to them.

It’s weird when we hit our mid-30s and have kids and try to find a balance between hanging out with couples, single friends, friends with kids and no spouse, couples with no kids, friends from various groups. Sometimes it feels so effortless to make fun happen, and other times it feels like a delicate dance to keep people happy. It has made me wonder if we hang onto relationships bc we feel like we always thought we’d be friends forever. Like the friend we met in first grade, our neighbor, our church friend or our best friend from high school. I tend to compare new friends sometimes with friends of old and feel like perhaps bc someone didn’t know me during this time of my life, they don’t truly know who I am. But then I think about my husband, who is quite easily my best friend, and how he knows most of me through story only.

Thankfully for him I can be an animated storyteller, but he did not know me in high school singing in church plays or playing basketball or my swimming days. He did not know me in college, going to poetry readings, concerts, parties, pondering the meaning of life at 2am over Vic and Bills burgers. He wasn’t part of my Tennessee pride and therefore doesn’t sing Rocky Top quite as loudly as I do. But he WILL sing it, and he WILL withstand the endless stories that I tell.

So maybe it’s okay that people don’t know me from all walks of life. And maybe friends I make today represent where I am in my life now whereas some friends represent where I was 10 or 20 years ago. In middle school I had friends who loved new kids on the block. In high school, it was friends who liked playing music, eating at Stax, were in my classes and swam on swim team. In college, I may have bonded with someone over a shared love of fiction or music and today it might be the same wine or baby product (the juxtaposition of those two are rather interesting wouldn’t you say!). But I’m thinking that it’s okay if things shift and we all change. It happens.

Thinking about my son, I now know that he will know an entirely different version of me. I will probably be ANYONE but me to him, ha ha, because he will know me as mother, teacher, disciplinarian and hopefully the definition of unconditional love. But then again, maybe that is who I am today. At least a part of me. But he might not know all the stories and secrets that others do. And I’m okay with that. Our souls can be easily divided into chunks of time and pieces of who we are and once were, and I think that is what makes us whole.

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Tough Love

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My husband I have been blessed in so many ways. Most obvious is our gorgeous, amazing son C. Yes, every parent thinks their children are special, and yes, they are. But lately, we’ve had to practice tough love and deal with the fact that our son LOVES to read. Why is this a problem? Bc every night we read to him multiple books. I say goodnight moon at least two times a day, count dinosaurs, read about Milly and Tilly and can never remember which one is the country mouse and which one is the city one. And my son’s favorite book, When Will it Be Spring, asks the question from the perspective of a little bear bothering mama bear.

But now, when reading time is over, he does not want to stop. He throws a tantrum and screams. This is the only time we’ve ever encountered a tantrum and it’s hard knowing it’s not bc he is in pain, hungry, wet, tired (well sometimes he’s over tired) and we can’t make it better. But basically, it’s because he loves us and wants to play and be in our arms and hear our voices. How do you say no to that?

We know people who do not discipline their child and the kid walks all over them. We have seen people give in and I always said I would not be that person. I still stand by that, even though the screaming and wailing breaks my heart. Two nights ago it lasted 20 mins after we left him in the crib. Last night, it lasted five. I’m hoping tonight when my parents babysit, for their sake, it will be even shorter and he will fall asleep to them reading to him.

I’m sure this won’t be the first and last time we have to practice tough love. I wonder what other parents have done knowing it was for the good of the child but broke their heart at the same time. It’s so hard to say no to something that brings you so much joy! Doesn’t he know I want to stay up and read to him all night too?

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Inspiration, Move Me Brightly

You never know where you’ll find inspiration. Sometimes it’s from something obvious, sometimes it’s from your child. Often it’s from your child. But other times it’s from a stranger’s story. Today was the latter. I read about a man whose daughter has CP and she can’t speak or walk. Her father isn’t even sure if she can see. She acts like a 3-month old and is a teen. Yet he loves her unconditionally, the way every parent does and should.

This man decided a few years ago to start competing in triathlons for his daughter’s sake. Since 2008 he has done over 70 races and swims pulling her in a kayak; bikes pulling her in a little trailer and runs pushing her wheelchair. As someone who has competed in triathlons, I know even doing one WITHOUT pulling or pushing someone else is a great feat. I could only ever imagine getting myself across the finish line, not another person. And yet, here is this man who said, “She is my heart. I am her legs.” That line moves me to tears. I feel that way sometimes about my own son, that he is at the heart of everything I do. But in this instance, this man literally is her legs and she provides the determination, or heart, for him to move. It’s amazing. I am inspired just reading his story and seeing his photos. I am inspired to be a better mother and wife and to never take my life for granted. Not because I don’t want to be in his situation or because like some might think, it could always be worse. But rather, to be able to live so openly and recognize what a joy and miracle life is, even for those who can’t talk., or walk, or see,. The father got involved in the race because he knew his daughter loved being outdoors and having the wind on her face. Knowing she probably can’t enjoy a good movie or song like you or I could, he does this to give her hours of wind in her face.

I wonder, what will I do to give others the wind in their face they so desire?

Team Maddy: Father and Daughter

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Em Dashes do more than break up thoughts

I’ve been a freelance writer now for about 12 years. I’ve had the opportunity to work on quite a few neat projects: a wine magazine, some cd/concert reviews, writing about a swimming school, and lots of real estate writing. I choose my gigs very carefully and try to find something to suit my personal interests. But what I don’t understand is all these jobs out there on sites like odesk, craigslist and what not, that want to pay writers (and good writers at that) as little as $2 per hour. Today i saw a job for 80 cents for 300 words. Not 80 cents PER word (I’d take that in a heartbeat). But the entire 400 word blog post would be 80 cents.

Do people not understand the value in the written word? The need for being a good communicator? As the product of many lay offs, I often wonder why people take writers with such a give or take attitude. The creative groups I’ve been a part of are often the red-headed step children of a company. People think all we do is make things pretty or play games and juggle Squoosh balls. Guess what, there’s more to it than that.

Do you know how many times a day I try to explain to coworkers the difference between an EM dash and an EN dash? Do you know? I’m not writing to present myself as holier than thou, I just mean to illustrate that dissecting grammar to its core is not as colorful or “pretty” as one may think.

Alas, I sit here today, listening to my grammar girl podcast, researching some freelance jobs that hopefully will allow me to buy more than bread and water with the paycheck and hope that one day people out there will understand what we writers do. Thankfully, I love being able to communicate, love being able to choose one word over another and will not settle for 80 cents on the 400 word count.

Image At least he says, “if you don’t like my rate, don’t apply.”