I wanted to share this definition of normal eating which I read in two different places recently:
Normal eating is being able to eat when you are hungry and continue eating until you are satisfied....It is leaving some cookies on the plate because you know you can have some again tomorrow, or it is eating more now because they taste so wonderful when they are fresh. Normal eating is overeating at times: feeling stuffed and uncomfortable. It is also undereating at times and wishing you had more. Normal eating is trusting your body to make up for your mistakes in eating. Normal eating takes up some of your time and attention, but keeps its place as only one important area of your life. In short, normal eating is flexible. It varies in response to your emotions, your schedule, your hunger, and your proximity to food.
That's from Ellyn Satter, a dietician and therapist. I know some dietary restrictions aren't always a matter of choice; some people for moral or medical reasons do have to give a lot more time and attention to their eating. But I like what she says. It sounds counter-intuitive after the decades of rubbish that diet culture has taught us, but it used to be intuitive and can be again.
My little sister Becca graduated from high school today.
She's a crazy kiddo who always makes me laugh, always has multiple boys chasing her, and always has a story to tell.
I love, love, love to just mess around and be a dork with her, but she's more than frivolous when you need her; she's a classy lady with strength and grace beyond her years, much like this one. [Picture: me calling in tears at 2 a.m. because I am completely broke, have to pay my next month's phone bill, they won't let me cancel my service. She listens and soothes. She says, don't worry. I'll pay it for you.]
And she says it's on her list of life goals to be blogged about. I figured this was one of the best excuses that'd come along for a while, so, my dear sister, I am so proud of you and love you so much. Congratulations on all your hard work and on getting out! You're going to have a stellar time at college.
Brother-in-law and big sister also came up for the big event...
And the first glass of wine that I ordered for myself, whoop whoop, some celebratory sparkly for the occasion. I scratched in the arrow with my butter knife while it was developing because I'd read in a novel that you can do that with instant films. Yay, you can.
Second read-aloud mp3 to finish the story of Aino and Väinämöinen. Download here.
What do you think of this story? Is it odd that it's a favorite of mine?
this kind of shaky sunlight.
how much time for creative stuff there is in the summer. baking, journaling, decorating my walls, taking pictures, writing...not to say I don't get restless without school or work, but it's so good for the creative part of my heart.
the verb "alight."
you. that is, the wonderful people I know through blogging, and even the quiet listeners that I don't know, but know are here.
experimenting with doing new stuff in my journal.
reconnecting with a lovely blogger who had been offline for a while.
exchanging mp3 "letters" with Erin.
my sister and her husband are coming to visit us this weekend for Little Sister's graduation!
shadows of leaves and wrought iron.
some more playing with my Holga lenses.
a pretty scheme involving a lot of cherries.
having enough money to send love packages again.
Little Sister uncovered my old Gameboy Color and my inner Pokémon nerd has reawoken with a vengeance! Plus, we did not have stuff like Bulbapedia (...or even Internet access, haha) last time I was playing it! Pretty awesome.
Brain rattles and borrowed troubles: What am I doing? What is the POINT of me? What am I going to do tomorrow, and next week? What if I don't get a job?
But shush. Stand up, even though it might be meaningless. You must move.
Stretch. Breathe. Again. Pay attention to the way this air feels going in and out of your body. Pay attention to the way your feet feel on the floor.
Like Franz said, the tall blue starry strangeness of being here at all. Or Thich Nhat Hanh: all is miracle. It's not necessary to understand.
And now do something. Just something. Bake? Don't think too hard. Yes, let's go bake.
I completely forgot that this interview was going up today, until I saw it come across my reader and went, "Oh, hey, that's me. Ack."
Sarah Von interviewed me for her True Story series. It was a bit scary for me to let someone else steer a conversation about something this personal and achey (I must have emailed her four or five times with small edits to my answers) and I REALLY didn't want to write the typical eating disorder confessional.
But judging by the comments so far, it was a good idea, and it was a good exercise for me to try to tell the thing from beginning to end. Or middle, or wherever this is.
It's not everything, but it's a lot of it.
I was honored to be given a copy of this poet's first book recently. I posted one of his poems (from an anthology) here before. The book, which is also called The Salt Flowers, is a volume lush with beautiful images. One of those books that I read at bedtime in hopes that it might bleed into my dreams.
This poem grabbed me with its first stanza, which made me think of this poem by e. e. cummings. I love the reminiscent feeling of it, the emotional clarity, and of course, the stunning imagery. A coming-summer poem and a taste of a beautiful book.
The Salt Flowers
I don't know why something in me
closes like hands
in these days of June
I don't know turning above
everything at night
the endless braid of stars
I don't know flowers or rain or nightmares
or the unraveling thread that is
It is Sunday
The heat rises into pearls
daylight twisted in palm trees
clouds reflected on the sea
Your mouth embroidered with mine
- Travis Ian Smith
When I was really little, I had a pink pig. He got lost at Disneyland and we never found him.
Then I got a teddy bear whom I called Snowy Bear and carried everywhere with me. He had a silky ribbon around his neck that I would wind through my fingers while I sucked the fingers on the other hand. People would always be tying his ribbon in a bow, which made me mad.
When he lost a ribbon, my mom and I had to look carefully for a replacement that was silky on both sides. When I had to go to school without him, at first I carried his ribbon in my pocket for secret courage.
At school, I sleep with a ratty speech bubble pillow. [nerd pillows here]
And at home, I have Nyago, my sleeping-faced Sanrio cat from middle school.
I just don't sleep as well without something for my arms to hold. If I don't have a stuffed animal, I'll hug the edge of the comforter. Otherwise I toss and turn and my arms feel too long and empty.
What about you? What was your lovie when you were little? Do you still have a cuddle-thing?