My dreams weren’t big. I couldn’t see beyond being with my mommy. She was all I knew.

As time passed visions of becoming a model would eventually take the place of working at the local grocery store as a clerk. That also never took place.

When my mother succumbed to the ravages of ovarian cancer in June 1981, everything I ever knew collapsed. My dreams of living with my mom for eternity were dashed. it became evident with my ability to nurture that the one thing I knew I wanted to be when adulthood came was to be a mother. Without realizing it at the time, I married a goober as a means of attaining my goal to be a mommy. Hindsight and all that jazz.

The past can’t be erased and I wouldn’t wish for it to be. Oh sure, it occurs to me that my selection of husband could have been better. However, changing that choice might very well alter the person I gave birth to. The result of that marriage gave me the most amazing child. It helped me attain one of my childhood dreams: Motherhood.

There are numerous things with which I fail, stumble and falter — doing so with style, of course. One thing that is evident, and still I fumble, is being a single mom. Dare I say that I excel at it? Yes, I do dare.

Happy Mother’s Day to you all.

Back at what? Whittling away my waistline. I’d like my girlish figure back, thank you very much.

You say you’ve already gone on this road with me and what do I think makes this time different? My road is ever bumpy and sometimes littered with obstacles that take me a bit of time to get over, but I never stop. Never give up. Never surrender, by Joe!

I like how I feel when I am doing well for my body. In turn, my spirit is more joyful. Those around me can dance and rejoice in that side effect of me eating well and working out regularly.

Anywho, today was day Four of Turbo Fire with Chalene Johnson. It kicks my ass and turned me into a grody, sweaty mess. I prefer it that way. It makes me feel like something was accomplished.

After today’s workout I immediately recorded an accountability video. I won’t do that everyday, but here and there I will as I complete this 90 day program. Before starting, I took before photos. EGADS! It was frightening how much I’d turned to mush in the past 6 months. Totally spewtastic. Talk about intense motivation! You won’t be seeing those for a long time. Sorry. Some vanity needs to be spared in the face of accountability. When there is remarkable change, I will post a side by side like I did a couple of years ago.

Until then, leave me a comment if you’re on a fitness/weight loss journey. Let’s do this thing together, eh?

You watched the clip and probably think it will lead to some profound words of wisdom from me. You ask what introspective thought process will flow from my fingers onto the page.

Wrong.

This is all about me making my son shake his head and wonder how it is possible he came from my womb.

Mancub has viewed this movie, The Goonies, more times than I can possibly count. Between this, Uncle Buck and Big Trouble in Little China, I don’t know which he’s watched more.

This particular scene stuck in my head and I often rephrase it to suit whatever situation we are in.

For instance, the other day we were in the car. Shamefully, there was trash collecting. You know, water bottles, receipts, Yu-Gi-Oh! packaging, gum wrappers, junk mail. You get the idea. Inexplicably, I broke out into a monologue about “in here, this is OUR trash. This is our trash IN HERE. Out THERE is it is THEIR trash, but in HERE it is our trash.”

He patted me on the head and declared it would be alright. “Forget your meds, mom?”

Today is the final day of my five off. Parting is such sweet sorrow. My co-workers have done well at leaving me to my peace and quiet.

What is most apparent about time off,and this is not a new revelation as I’ve said this after every break from work: I could be a woman of leisure so easily. If I won the lottery there’s no doubt how quickly I’d quit my job. There’s no pretending, kids. Not even a flippin’ part time job just to keep me occupied. Sure, I would learn by experiencing life instead of living vicariously. Honestly, I don’t even know that I’d put in a two week notice. Done would be done.

Alas, now isn’t the time to let my mind drift off to far away lands where being tutored in the native language is with a resident of said dream location. Nope.

Reality time.

Who is to say that I cannot live in the now? Live in the moment and embrace every opportunity that comes my way.
Have you ever seen the movie “Yes Man” starring Jim Carrey? He goes to a seminar and takes it literally by saying YES! to every suggestion and offer to cross his pass…that includes a sexual encounter with the elderly lady next door. Ewwww That will NOT happen in my case. I mean, my neighbor is a cigar smoking garden gnome. Ick.

Hold on. I need to go cleanse my brain with bleach.

All righty! So, the prospect of being more of a YES! person is appealing. Sitting on the sidelines of my own life is no way to LIVE. It’s especially no way to let my son live. We need fun and adventure.

I surely did.

First let me just say how age is simply a number and that is the purpose of me pointing out the gap between myself and my GM. Most certainly younger, it is best not to assume the younger person won’t understand.

With that explanation out of the way, we set forth to plan a few days off for the lab manager who has been running on all cylinders and some I didn’t even know I had since mid-January. I was considering time in May. She thought more immediate and, with my newly written schedule in hand, began altering it to suit my apparent need for respite.

Miraculously she made it happen. As if a veil of burden being removed from my being, the weight came off my shoulders. For the first time in months the air felt clear enough to truly breathe. The shift in attitude was likely confusing for anyone who’d witnessed my near break downs when one thing or another didn’t go as planned or a piece of equipment suddenly fails to operate.

Let us flash forward. Today is Sunday: Day two in five of freedom. Per my request, no one has texted or called from work. Gloooooorious. Friday night I stayed up very late (past midnight) catching up via Facebook with someone I knew in high school. Ah, the joys of social networking at its finest. Seriously. You make of it what you choose. After sipping a couple low carb margaritas amidst the chatting, it hit me like a ton of bricks that I was tired. We bid our goodnights and zzzzzzzzzzzz. And Zzzzzzz some more. I didn’t awaken until after 8AM. Rare for me to sleep in even if I’ve remained awake longer than 10:30PM. I’m weird. Sunlight peeks through the window and tells me to get my bum out of a cozy bed and get on with the day.

And you know, on my days off I do not mind having extra time to spend relaxing or whatever my heart desires.

My first day off was spent goofing off and catching up on favorite programs On Demand with Mancub. Then, the sense of ick began to take hold of me. The weather was quite disagreeable. Rain in the morning without thunder or lightning. A little sprinkle never killed anyone. With my new kicks on and layers to ward off the chilly breeze, I set off with a newly downloaded cardio tracker and cardio beats music app. An hour later I killed 400 calories and walked 3.2 miles.

Yeeeeeeeeee! It was amazing and head clearing. With each calorie burned I expelled negativity that had built up over the course of a few months. It’s not completely gone, but it is decreased. Mostly, my exercise comes in the form of workout dvds. Focus is solely on choreography and form. Walking is second nature. Aside from speed and force in stride, it gives the brain time to unload.

I want to go back to the music app for a moment. It’s sole purpose is providing BPM for walking/running. It allows choices from alternative rock to pop to open format, which is what I used Saturday. Fitradio for Android must’ve known me. It played crazy mash up mixes with ‘80s tunes as the base with over lays of current music. There were some kooky blends. The tempo was ideal and interesting to keep pushing me along.

One thing became abundantly obvious. I need to do it more often. With days getting longer and temperature warming, there is no excuse.

Here is a photo taken after the walk was complete. Using sepia and blindly shooting from under the dandelion, it gave a cool perspective.

Another shot, taken in a similar fashion, was tweaked using another groovy app on my Droid.

And a little more tweaking gives it a haunting appearance.

It’s the day before Easter. Now, while I am not particularly religious, read I don’t attend church, the memories of Easters past sneaked up on me. My son hasn’t ever taken much interest in coloring eggs nor hunting for them. We are far from traditional. That is just how we roll. Santa never held much interest for him, either.

So, all holiday memory lanes lead back to my Mom. Every Easter would bring a family basket along with individual baskets. Each year I could count on an inflatable Easter rabbit with a weighted bottom. We didn’t have a lot, but we always had our traditions.

When I pull myself from the past and return to the present, the fact remains that I miss my Mother terribly. She died in June 1981. The longing for her touch, compassion and understanding never diminishes.

I’m so appreciative of the fond memories that rattle about in my mind. It is my hope that my son will have good memories in spite of us not having traditional holiday traditions.

Pictured here with my niece on Easter about 26 or 27 years ago. She is now a mother of two!

WOW! Is it pride or narcissism to say that I was impressed. At the moment of conception aka putting thought down on digital paper, one might question quality.  Sure, I churned out some stinkers, but whilst playing blog roulette today, I found some gems buried amongst the gratuitous “buy me! follow me!” sort of posts. As mentioned in the post previous to this one, I got off track. Marissology became BUY BEACHBODY DAILY.

Today’s venture into blog entry’s past helped me tap into the girl who is Marissology. Some of those past posts serve as reminder that, while my pant size may have decreased, my socializing aka dating life hasn’t improved one iota. That is my own fault. Einstein is credited to saying that repeating the same thing over and over and expecting different results is the definition of INSANITY. It’s either time to suit up with the straitjacket or make changes in how I go about altering my relationship status.
Everybody tells me that it will happen when I least expect it because that is how it happened to them. Between you and me, I don’t believe that bull malarky for one second. It makes for a good tale, though.

A song just popped into my head and I must share it. Then, I will resume my banter.

For what it’s worth, I do not consider myself desperate, seriously.

One of the blog posts that enticed me to pat myself on the back was in regards to the moniker single women my age are often saddled with thanks to misunderstanding: Cougars.  Ick. You should go read it.

There have been times when I dream and have the ability to recall what occurred when awakened. If I don’t write about it quickly then the details are lost. Creative license can be assumed, but that wouldn’t be genuine, now would it? Another “ooh I think I just pulled a muscle reaching to pat my back” blog entry involved just a moment when a dream was shared. What’s funny is that the dream involved a man I know online, but now I can’t remember who! Memory is such a terrible thing to lose. So, if you’re so inclined to be amused by my nocturnal dallience, here’s the link a dink a do.

Often when I write in the manner from those posts, I need to be fired up or be completely clear of thought. What starts out as a blog about nothing turns into something, I feel, worthy of others enjoyment. With the instances where I am plain old pissed off, I attempt to tame my anger with hyperbole and humor. The wording is tweaked to be colorful. Because I find when I vent with a vengeance, it comes back to haunt me. At least if I’m fuming while channeling a sit-comesque character, we can all laugh about it later. Mostly.

Let us raise a glass to the re-christening of Marissology in her purest form. Here’s to getting back to basics and blogging as it was intended. Screw you SEO. This girl is in it for the therapy.

Anywho, I did romanticize that my life of trial and error in raising a teenage son without support from his jackass dad would some how have broad appeal and magically I’d be rewarded with prizes and monetary adoration. Hey, I even toss in the freak show known as my dating life and search for a bra that will properly lift and support the gazongas. Yeah yeah, it goes back to being lost in a sea of blogs and lack of expertise (laziness) in making this blog pop out on search engines.

::insert laugh track::

The sole intent of this post is to vent and whine. The rules of this blog remain the same: My blog; my rules.

While I cannot declare that I hate every aspect of my job, after sixteen years, it feels as if the shelf life has expired. But what should come next? I’m 46 years old. Oh, of course every job has ups and downs. Sometimes it feels more downs than ups. It’s called work instead of fun for a reason. Then again, all over the web people are shouting out how they love what they do and blah blah ‘secret’ yada yada. I’ve been trying to pretend I loooooooove my job and know where I am is where I belong. Poppycock! When instinct tells you to walk in and just flip off the place as a whole whilst declaring a big f*ck you! one might want to reassess the definition of happiness.
That is not to suggest I dislike every one who works with me nor does it say that business is a giant vortex of suck. It isn’t. This is NOT about the corporation or people. It’s about me MEMEMEMEMEMEME!

Maybe all I need is a period of respite. You know, that little doo hicky some people take for a week or two. Uh, what’s the word? The Brits call it holiday. We ‘Mericans call it a V A C A T I O N! The problem is that in spite of my efforts to pull a team together that can manage without me for a week, it seems futile. Do I just go and let them fend for themselves? Force them to step up and handle whatever comes their way? That’s how I learned, after all. Damn the torpedoes? If they can’t pull their shit together then it’s tough nuggets? The downside to that theory is that if they fail, it will be my failure. I’ll get the “how could you take time off and not have suitable coverage?” Right? Blah. Rock and hard place, meet Marissa.

Now, on to the next vent of the morning. I pride myself on being somewhat emotionally stable in my world of singledom. Howevah! I miss companionship. I forget what it’s like to have someone look at me as if I’d hung the moon and vice versa. Sure, that dreamy crap may fade, but how terrific is it while it lasts? That’s a rhetorical question. I need to have my moment of lalaland romance. People on Facebook are constantly bitching about their significant others who don’t live up to their promises etc… Not everyone expresses such disenchantment, mind you. Some people actually LIKE the person they married or date. It’s possible that one day I could be one of those people. Oh, and while I’m on this subject, please don’t patronize me with the “when it is meant to be, it will be” m’kay? There are times when that advice is appropriate, but not when I’m on a rant-a-roni. With my current state of mind I may threaten to punch you in the face. Hey, it isn’t personal.

Did I mention that I am 46 and all that you have just read will later be blamed on jacked up hormonal balance? I won’t be able to deny it as once it is on the internet it NEVER leaves. This has all been quite therapeutic for me. Getting it all out helps. Admitting that I am merely human is quite cathartic. The ability to always rise above does not come easily every time.

The life I lead may look simple and easy for those of you on the outside. It ain’t easy to be me, but there’s no other way I know to be.

How I look

The way I feel

The top three contenders are:

Fage 0%

Oikos 0%

Chobani

As I said, I love FAGE plain, fat-free Greek yogurt. The consistency is thick and rich. It also tastes great. Yes, I eat it plain with nothing more than some fruit. No added sweeteners. In fact, stay away from those pre-fruited varieties. Most of them use sugar or artificial sweeteners. Bleah! I have found that Fage has the best price for the quality. That’s what prompted me to buy it the first time. Plus, now my discount grocer is carrying it. So, it is even cheaper!

CHOBANI surprised me with its super creamy consistency. The taste and consistency was similar to FAGE but slightly more creamy. It’s ideal for a sour cream replacement. Both brands are, by the way.  Because of those factors, it is ideal for eating on its own. It’s a little higher priced than Fage, but if you find it on sale and in the quart, it is cost friends, naturally.

Bring in the OIKOS. That’s the brand currently using ‘80s heart throb John Stamos flirtatiously introducing women to the yogurt. Now, maybe I just picked up a lame quart, but the consistency wasn’t nearly as thick as Fage and Chobani and it wasn’t smooth. The flavor was good, but there’s a texture thing working against it. I wouldn’t eat it alone or as a sour cream replacement. Perhaps using it for a smoothie would be perfect.

Absolutely nothing scientific about my taste/consistency test. Just my preferences and taste buds.