All posts by X Teri

A Talisman And A Lunch

06/24/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

Not that I struggled with eating since October, but meals are somehow generally more purposeful now. I forgot to eat all day at work. Today, I went to Acambaro on College Avenue. “No, I don’t want to sit down. You’ll tie me to the chair. Again,” I told the helpful worker. A waitress from a previous visit nodded at me, undoubtedly remembering how insistent I was that she bring me an inhuman quantity of pico de gallo. “What can I get you, then?” She asked. “Ten orders of pico de gallo,” I confidently said. “Ten? Are you sure you want ten?” I waited, pretending to consider it. “You’re right, I better get eleven.” I smiled. “Okkkkaaaay,” she said. “Wow, that’s seventeen dollars after tax,” she added. “Did I set a new world record here? If not, I have another forty dollars if necessary. Pico de gallo affects national security, so let’s not do anything negligent here.” I smiled. She smiled, saying, “Are you going to eat all that pico?” I nodded. “But for reference, what other uses for pico de gallo do you have in mind?”

I waited by the register, pretending to read one of those promotional magazines that look like they are produced by overimaginative marketers who also suffer from a lack of a sense of humor. The woman who rang up my purchase placed the big sack of pico de gallo in front of me. “They didn’t put them all in one container,” she said and shrugged. I shrugged dramatically, too, and pirouetted, bowed, and turned to walk out the door. She probably thinks I’m on drugs, which is ridiculous; I don’t do drugs when I’m drunk.

(If I triggered anyone with the joke about being high or drunk, I would apologize. But you’re pretty much asking for it by reading what I write.)

I drove down to Evelyn Hills shopping center and parked facing the VA and College Avenue. I sat in the car, watching traffic and a parade of interesting people coming and going. I ate all ten pico de gallo cups, sprinkling Tajin on each container and dipping PopChips into them. It’s exactly what I wanted. The pico was fresh and delicious. My shirt and lap probably looked like they belonged to a third grader by the time I was done. Tomatoes, cilantro, onion, chip pieces, and Tajin seasoning covered me. When I finished, I hopped out of my tiny car and brushed myself off furiously. A man who seemed to have fallen out of the unhappy tree stood by his black Mustang and shook his head in my direction. Because I didn’t know what he disapproved of, I turned to face my car and started doing jumping jacks. When I turned back around, he was in his car and definitely no longer worried about expressing his opinion of whatever he thought I had been doing.

I entered the store, one I’d never before been inside, and walked around. It was interesting and a little unsettling, the mixture of products and clientele, as if a strange retail reality show were being filmed on a very limited budget. I found a dozen mylar balloons and wandered the aisles with them. Because I’m sure I looked a little goofy holding a dozen balloons, twice I pretended that the balloons were pulling me slightly off the ground. I repeated the trick at the register, much to the amusement of the cashier. “Yeah, you guys should be careful. You could lose a customer with this much helium in the balloons,” I told her. “You do know it’s not Father’s Day, right? she asked me, looking at the balloons. “Not in Venezuela, where I’m not from,” I told her. She failed to notice the extra ‘not’ in my reply. “Oh? That’s interesting,” she replied.

I went to my car with the twelve balloons and did the impossible magic dance of getting them inside and tying them firmly – and in a way that wouldn’t unexpectedly blind me while I drove. Not that it matters. Driving on College Avenue in Fayetteville is like sticking your hand in a horse’s mouth. I hopped into the car and exited the shopping center. Immediately and without cause, the balloons became a little loose, so I hooked a quick right into the first parking lot. I went around to the passenger side, opened the door, and pulled the middle of the excessively long balloon strings away from the parking brake. As I did so, all the balloons pulled up way faster than I expected. Seven of them sailed away. Five remained loyal to me and in the clutch of my left hand. I stood and watched the seven escapee balloons fire into the sky. The people on Highway 71 watched too. I saw more than one point at them. I love releasing balloons – I just prefer a controlled release. I’d forgotten the #1 rule of balloons: they are never as tightly tied as you’d presume. (This is one of the principal rules of handcuffs and restraints too, but if you’re reading what I write, you already know that.)

I left the remaining balloons where they needed to be, talismans of unusual composition, to remind those who find them that the world is meant to be enjoyed.

Uncategorized

Catch Up

06/24/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

It’s fascinating that an experience can be pale and yet the memory of it prevail. Time flavors all and not always to our benefit.

Vacations, fabulous meals, and exotic experiences are truly splendid. However, 95% of your life is contained in the other. The surest way to be unhappy is to attempt to derive most of your happiness from the exceptional 5%. -x

Grammar vs. BotanyI visited Eastern Madison County last month. Walking across one of the protected tracts of forest, I noted a huge grove of conifers. 90%+ of them grew almost horizontally, parallel to the ground. I turned to the guide. “What kind of coniferous trees grow horizontally like that?” I asked him. “Those? Those are supines.”

What a weird end to my workday! Exiting work and entering the parking garage, I jumped into my car and noticed a huge crack in my windshield. I rolled down my window, leaned out, and told Darian to get the hell off my hood.

Rule of Specificity: I’m not a real stickler for words; however, there are times it’s important to be specific. For example, if someone working on something for you calls on the radio or texts you, “I need a number 2 ASAP,” don’t be surprised when things go south quickly, and doubly so if the person requesting the item is near a window.

“There’s always time for what fills your heart. And if not, what’s the point of this mad world?” – X

If you describe a third person to someone by saying, “…he looks exactly like a disgruntled Russian collections agent,” and the other person knows immediately who you’re talking about, that’s a win.

Because I deviated from my routine. I exited the car, hands full of masks, trash, chalk, and yes, my car key. Walking out of the parking garage, I absentmindedly threw all of it into the trash container, which of course was mostly full. Small car key included. Luckily it registered that I had done something forgetful and stupid. (This is not usually the case with me.)I pulled the entire bag out of the can and meticulously went through it, as coworkers drove by, wondering why I was foraging in the trash. Of course I could not find my key. And so, I pulled out the entire bag of trash and brought it inside work. I dumped the bag out and carefully sorted through what can only be described as extremely bad food choices for my coworkers. Time and heat had not improved the remains. Somehow, my small car key had managed to get inside a particularly nasty bag of leftover Taco Bell. Not that I’m a breakfast person, but I found myself mentally scratching off Taco Bell from my list of places to eat – possibly ever.

Pithy quote for Monday…You’re going to run out of time. Die with memories. Not dreams. A fulfilled life in monochrome surpasses a fantasy in Kodachrome.

Not my joke, but I love it: I got so fat that people couldn’t even lift me up in prayer.

I am starting to take these new PPE requirements personally. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

I have been going to counseling since March. I’m better, thanks. The bad news is that my counselor is now convinced she’s a picnic table.

At 54, I never thought life would involve so much chalk dust. Also, why can a child carry a bucket of chalk and no one blinks an eye, but an adult with one stick of it looks like a terrorist.

I guess I misunderstood what pride month is. Six lions in the breakroom caused a bit of a problem.

Because he was in a bad mood, he hung a “Please Disturb” sign on the door.

I think I will be fired for using suggestive language at work. I suggested that my boss take a practice high dive off the nearest cliff.

I like a good burn when it’s creative:”X, why are you dressed like that?”Me: “Duh. We’re shooting a music video later this morning.” “Well, I can only assume you have the role of ‘A$$hole #1, given that you’ve got the part down solidly already.”I laughed.

I misunderstood. I’m pretty sure it’s okay to hurl a ball at someone and scream, “Dodgeball!” Even at work, and even if you hit them on the nose.These are the rules of Dodgeball.

There are two undercurrents of truth in life. One guides us on the surface of the superficial. The other, swirling and contradictory, gives us meaning. Rare among us are those where the two currents are indistinguishable. -x

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. But you can bet your ass he had a terrible summer.

One of the powerful secrets I learned through counseling… this one habit will change your life substantially, and probably forever: don’t be an asshole.

One of the most astonishing things in life is this: if you really clench your jaw, you hear and feel a rumbling. There’s a physiological reason for this. The surprising thing is how few people know it happens, much in the same way that we forget that we actually ‘see’ our nose 100% of the time.

Surely, somewhere, there MUST be a werewolf who suffers from male pattern baldness, right?

I accompanied my friend Susan, who was ordered by the District Court to go to Kleptomaniac Group Therapy. We were going to have coffee, but all the cups were taken.

Working in healthcare, I decided I would start cleaning myself with an autoclave instead of showering. I didn’t know my voice could go that high.

My little car has a lot of new technology. Evidently I’m a worse driver than I imagined. My navigation app told me to pull over so it could get out.

My latest round in the ongoing insult war: “You’re just a mirror away from self-awareness.”

If a bat started coronavirus, imagine the consequences if someone eats a dingbat.

“Love Is a Burning Thing.” Please consult your urologist.

Y’all probably won’t understand how amusing it is to take a can of soda, put it in a paper bag, and sit somewhere in plain sight drinking from it. How long does it take for someone nosey to tell me I can’t drink in public?

“It is true he was busy moving mountains; unfortunately, he failed to realize that he is his own summit.” – x

I wonder how y’all do it, the normal people, that delicate and uncertain dance between the sunburst and the thunder. But then I remind myself to look into people’s eyes and behind the layer that we put on, thinking it shields us. I’m not sure this is a status update, but because I’m human, I can’t imagine that other people don’t wonder this sort of thing.

In honor of today’s dubious Demolition Derby in Springdale, I plan on driving through all my neighbor’s yards at 8 a.m. According to the new rules, I get 12 points for each bird feeder I run over.

If I say, “I am SO sore from last night’s twerking class,” the proper response isn’t laughter; rather, you should ask, “Oh? As teacher or student?”

It’s a sign: I invested in myself and now I have buyer’s remorse.

Death, Diet, Exercise, Health, Personal, Social Rules, Weight Loss

Pushups And Not Dropping Dead

06/18/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

Thanks to the Blue Dress Project, I’ve been doing pushups since the beginning of the month. Not continuously, though. The world record for most pushups in a day is 46,001, while the record for non-stop is over 10,000. Keeping that in mind, don’t admonish me too angrily for doing this at my age. The record holder for most in a year was 45 when he completed over 1.5 million in one year. I’ll let you know if I decide to break his record. You can start holding your breath now.

I do them in increments or sets, whether I’m on the way to the bathroom, waiting by an elevator, walking, or going to the kitchen to get a bag of PopChips. I’ve had a few surprises while doing them in unusual places. While I might not drop and do twenty next to the open casket, for example, I don’t see what’s so weird about doing pushups while listening to someone complain about how much they are being overworked. What amuses me most is the idea of having someone in great shape do them continuously near the vending machine area to determine if their subtle presence decreases junk food sales.

I have to be cautious with my shoulder, of course. Technically speaking, the medical term for what I have is “Old & Busted.” I’ve noted that a couple of surgeons seem to be following me around at work while holding scalpels. It could be my imagination. I’ve been told mine is overactive.

There are days when I reach a surprisingly high number of repetitions.

I’m not promising I’ll do them long-term, but I will do them for six weeks, until they become a new habit that I can keep if I wish to. I made a deal with myself that pushups are an exercise I like, cost nothing, and require only time, of which I have an abundance. It’s stupid NOT to experiment. That’s pretty much my take on a lot of things anymore. Including mushrooms. The la-la land variety, not the kind one finds on pizzas. I’ll report back when I’ve tried mushrooms, assuming I’ll still be able to write English or speak in complete sentences at that point.

I don’t have a goal. Other than continuing to not drop dead, of course. It is a great goal, despite all the mortuary owners secretly hoping that a lot of people might have particularly bad days. It’s nothing personal. The odds are in their favor, though. Keep that in mind as you continue to not make changes you’d like to see in your health and life. No matter what you choose, keep it in mind – and not in a superficial way. Every important thing you put off, challenges included, could forever elude you based on today’s choices. It’s nuts, isn’t it? We trick ourselves into thinking we’re making small decisions or foregoing things of no consequence only to discover that we’ve sacrificed an opportunity that is gone forever.

Many days I just stop counting as I do the pushups. If I need to practice counting, I can count the years of my life remaining. For small numbers, I can count the remaining hair on my head.

A friend at work quotes one of his many ridiculous sports heroes by saying, “It doesn’t matter how many you do. You don’t start counting until it hurts.”

My response to him is this: “You’re only as old as the woman you feel.”

I can feel a difference already. Not in my friend. He’s a musclehead.

If I had a sedentary job, I’d do 500 every day. Pushups, I mean. I’m not Wilt Chamberlain if that joke doesn’t fly over.

It’s true that a couple of people have mocked me for doing pushups. That kind of asshole is going to always find something to complain about. It doesn’t matter how I manage my life or what I do – there will be people who roll their eyes or want me to fail. Luckily, most people are great, and even if they don’t understand what the hell my point is, they play along, if only so that we can reciprocally overlook each other’s craziness.

This brings me back to the idea of incrementalism. You might not be able to do a pushup. But if you start slow and with a hint of enthusiasm, you can reach just about any goal you want to. You can learn a language by learning one word a day, walk a mile by focusing on reaching a little farther as your energy permits, or read a book a month by translating your interest into doing so into a plan that’s broken into bite-size increments. (No pun on the bite-size, by the way.)

Likewise, and just as important, if you’re happy with yourself, your life, or things about yourself, don’t get tricked into adapting because you think you should. You should be happy, and anyone who finds satisfaction in themselves has magical power.

PS: I’m rooting for Blue Dress Project to make the weight. I’ve found a renewed enthusiasm for people doing things that they’ve put off, or for finding success, no matter how large or small. If I can do it, anyone can.

Love, X

Food, Opinion, Personal, Weight Loss

Lunch Among Strangers

06/18/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

I left the bright sun behind me as I entered Mr. Taco Loco on Emma. A wall of scents and smells assaulted me. Because I can easily go without eating all day, I forget hunger sometimes. I risk admitting that because people have their filters and triggers that make such a statement sound like psychosis. It’s not. It’s just a fact. And it is an extraordinarily good thing for me and my life. I still love food, but I’m not food-centric anymore. Mr. Taco Loco is one of the places that let me healthily eat delicious food. Eating less grants me peace in moments that would have otherwise been consumed by wanting to eat, or worse, being too full.

I walked through the dark table and bar area. Ahead of me were two younger men, both avidly looking at the menu and comparing comments. After a minute, one of them turned and said, “Go ahead.”
I hesitated. “Are you having trouble deciding?” They both grinned and nodded. “What do you recommend?” I laughed. “Well…” I started and then mapped out two alternate ways to decide. The cashiers stood and listened to my sales pitch. When I was done, I said, “If you are not eating with cost being your primary factor, pick something with the type of meat you’d most likely be satisfied with.” Though it’s bragging to say so, they were impressed.

I went ahead of them and ordered—five chicken tacos for me, with lots of added pico de gallo. I’m not a barbarian, after all. The gentleman who started last week stood there, confident and smiling after just a week of training. “Are you still here?” I asked him, laughing. The other worker, a younger female, asked me if the order was for here or to go. I angrily pretended to ask, “It’s like that, is it? Am I not allowed to eat here.” It took a few seconds to realize I was joking. The new guy’s smile probably gave it away. I also confused them by not wanting a drink, which is now a common habit of mine when eating. When I returned to the counter to order a bowl of salsa, he told me that his female co-worker pointedly asked him if something was up, given my unexpected comment.

I threw out my tortillas and spread out the chicken and pico de gallo across the platter, adding onions, cilantro, lime juice, and Tajin. Since I brought three bags of PopChips with me, I opened those and used them as scoops. After a few minutes, I returned to get a bowl of salsa. It threw them off that I didn’t want any chips to go with it. I tipped them for the second time, which distracted them from further questions.

I sat a table away from the first-time visitors. They’d decided on my second course of ordering, choosing riskier and fuller selections. They were delighted. Once they had their food, I walked over and held up my large bottle of Tajin. “Since y’all are young, I’m going to save you some trouble. You can have a lot more flavor and eat a lot more variety if you find a seasoning you like.” I explained what Tajin was, then poured a condiment cup of it out. They thanked me as I went back to my table. After a moment, the younger man closest to me turned and said, “Hell, the difference with the Tajin-stuff is amazing!” His eyes lit up. “You can buy it at Walmart, too,” I told him, to ensure he would become addicted. Because I forgot to mention it, I also said, “Taco Tuesday, all the tacos are a dollar. You’ll love it!” I also made a mental note for myself to write Tajin Corporation and ask about commissions.

I ate my platter of minimalist craziness and considered eating the soggy paper left there too. As I left, the new customers said, “Hey, thanks!” again and gave me the thumbs up.

Though it’s hard for this to be true most of the time, it was true today: everyone was happy for even a brief moment.

PS I wore one of my rip shirts to work today. It turned out to be a wise choice.

Personal, Religion

A Day of Ecclesiastes

06/17/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

The day started perfectly, even though an observer might mistake its onset for just another day. That’s the magic of life; all of it is in the heart and eye of the beholder. Mine was full.

One of my favorite things in this life is my hand-written copy of Ecclesiastes. It was on my mind today as I traversed the day. It wasn’t the religious undertones that sparked the connection; it was the multiple themes of mortality, existence, suffering, wisdom, and time. Today was a wild mix of activities. I walked through it as if touched by the lightest of magic. I added more creativity, affection, and humor to the day than I took from it, and I felt buoyant for having done so. As often happens, life then snuck an unseen hammer into my periphery and hit me on the head with it. It’s an ongoing and hard lesson to be reminded that one’s intentions, though colored with optimism, can give birth to their opposite.

A few people wrote to me and admonished me for jumping picnic tables this week or walking in the 3 p.m. sun—both of which I did again today. But I also did my best to brighten a few people’s day, which often turns out to be riskier than risking life and limb against the breadth of a picnic table.

It could have been worse: I could have shouted the F-bomb loudly while standing next to my manager. Someone else is guilty of that one. It was an accidental moment of fun. I took a risk and sponsored a frivolous game for a meeting at work. Note: my coworker didn’t shout the F-bomb in response to my game, at least not directly. The takeaway lesson from the meeting is that everyone looks like George Clooney.

I sat and read Ecclesiastes before I took my afternoon walk in the scorching sun. It’s an austere lesson, one that directs me every time to be glad for the moments I had.

On so many levels, that’s all we have.

It’s so odd that on some days, it’s more than enough.

And others? I weep for my expectations. ..

PS The double rainbow is from a recent Sunday morning. I stole a walk among the rainy outbursts that chased me across Fayetteville. What a beautiful morning that was.

Humor, Mental Health, Personal

Marketing 101

06/16/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

Today, when I walked in to see the counselor, I handed her this card. She’s accustomed to my sense of humor and laughs authentically when I catch her off-guard. I was incredibly lucky to randomly find her.

There’s a punchline to this. I told her that I came up with the perfect tagline for her as-of-yet written proposal for workgroup mental health discounts: Crazier By The Dozen.

“I’m not sure prospective clients would understand the humor.”

“Well, then they ARE crazy, aren’t they?”

I feel like I won at life in that brief moment.

Health, Personal, Safety, Social Rules

You Live, And You Don’t Learn

06/16/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

You have to start small. But sometimes, you have to stop thinking and trust yourself. In my case, I know I’m an idiot. So worrying about s-t-a-r-t-i-n-g to think is a bit excessive.

Because I lost so much weight, I now get these ideas that seemed ridiculous to me before. Losing weight erased much of the sense I could fake and replaced it with a noted capacity for more what-could-go-wrong thinking.

One of my favorite places here has a couple of picnic tables. It’s not that they’re tall, but rather that they’re wide. (A problem I used to have personally, too.) So if you’re going to take a run and jump, you better be prepared to lunge with a wild enthusiasm that will clear you. Otherwise, you’re going to figure out what a somersault feels like, one with splinters and a broken head. (If you’re a masochist and reading this, it still isn’t advisable, so take note.)

This tendency to fail to jump with all your enthusiasm and effort is one of the biggest reasons so much goes wrong in life.

Yesterday, without any preparation, I cleared my head of reason and restraint and ran ten steps… and jumped. To my horror, I cleared the table. Today, I walked around to gauge the logistics of the other table. Instead, I took off running and hurdled it like an ice cream buffet on weigh-in day. I landed a foot further than I needed. I applauded myself like I had brain damage and took a bow.

As I sat on the bench of the picnic table, rubbing my victory in, so to speak, a woman came around the side of the building. She had watched my jump from the vantage of one of the many windows along the back, unbeknownst to me.

“But can you jump the table lengthwise?” she asked.

Although I wasn’t sure I would be able to, I knew that I could, if conditions were perfect. And if they weren’t, at least the witness would have a great story to tell, the one about the middle-aged nutcase jumping a picnic table lengthwise.

The table in question wasn’t much longer than its length. In any case, I’ve lived a good life. I jumped up and turned. Just as I was about to run and jump (or try to), the woman said, “NO! I didn’t mean for you to try it!”

I laughed. I didn’t attempt the jump. Not today, anyway. I’ll call Blue Cross and ask a couple of questions. And reconsider my options tomorrow.

A year ago, I wouldn’t have tried to jump a picnic table. Now, I see metaphorical picnic tables everywhere.

Love, X.