Thursday, October 23, 2008

All Sorts of Crazy

Last night’s dinner was a complete bust. I took a dish I’ve made a dozen times using white rice and tried to sub it with whole grain brown rice. It didn’t work out and I ended up with a very soupy casserole with crunchy rice, mushy broccoli, and 2 wasted chicken breasts. While I sulked Jon cleaned off the chicken and preserved it as best he could for chicken salad at some point, threw away the rest of the atrocity that was our dinner, and handed me a jacket.

We found ourselves at the local sports bar watching the beginning of the World Series over each other’s shoulders while we shared a bowl of hot chili topped with cheese and onions and served with blue corn chips. It was warm food to fight the cold air outside, it was deliciously dangerous food, and it was oddly intimate sharing despite the obvious fact we were in a very public sports bar. I quickly realized that this is what I love about us; the satisfaction we both get from simple things, the comfortable silence, the peace we keep amid crazy surroundings, and the contentedness from just being together. I never would have thought sharing a bowl of chili (which the waitress later admitted is purchased in bulk from Wendy's...) with my husband could make me appreciate what we have so much more.


Tonight is set to be a very symbolic one--I’m finally doing it--I’m finally giving away all of my old clothes to Goodwill. By the end of the evening my closet will be empty but for a few pieces I've kept over the years as Someday Clothes, you know, those clothes hanging in the back of your closet that you just can’t seem to part with because someday you might fit into them again? I actually had quite a few items I kept for this purpose, and I do finally fit in to some, but most will be making the trip to Goodwill because they’re too big now. I’m going to be left with next to nothing to wear, and I’m both excited and frightened by this.

The minimalist in me is excited because I will be freeing up wasted space and purging, purging, purging. There won't be anymore hunting through a rack of clothes for something that doesn't resemble a potato sack when I put it on. My closet will be calm and organized for the first time in I don't know how many years.

The 35 pounds slimmer me is excited because she sees this as an opportunity (and excuse) to shop more. She's thrilled to buy new pants, sweaters, and jackets that don't come from the plus size department (thanks to vanity sizing no doubt, but still) and she can't wait to take the next step in reinventing herself.

The sentimentalist in me has a different view though. She thinks she's giving up a part of herself by letting go of the things that have helped her hide all these years, things that characterized who she was. She's giving up a part of her that she doesn't want to forget, because no matter how hideous or sad that girl was, she had a hand in making us who we are today, and who we want to be tomorrow.

Whew. Yeah, okay. I'm going to stop there because I'm way over thinking this. I'm giving up my clothes because winter is coming and hopeless people need help keeping warm and my clothes can't help them from the rack in my closet where they will hang the entire time. They can, however, do some good if I give them away, so that's what I'm doing.

I'm fidgety. It's weird. I'd better get this over with so I can keep a normal train of thought again.

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