Tea and Hurricanes

It's been a weird couple of weeks, what with Hurricane Katrina and me living in the primary recovery zone. The experiences of the survivers serves to drive home the point that there is little in life to control other than our own reactions. I hate saying that. It sounds so passive. But the reality is that I can strive to chart a path and direct my own future, but ultimately, the tides of life, like the weather, are a cosmic wild card I can hope only to surf with panache. Life is persistent, and it will do what it will.

The Hunky Latino and I are still keeping company, but we are doing it much less frequently upon the resumption of our respective semesters. He is taking fifteen undergraduate hours while I am taking six graduate ones. On top of us both working full time, we're heinously busy. I find I don't seek him out, think about him, or ruminate nearly so much now that my work's resumed and is consuming my life. I feel stronger now.I have even broached the subject of losing weight again. The HL has made it clear he's a man who appreciates a trim woman, and while my Italian nature and hedonistic streak mean I love food the way a drunk loves booze, I realize on my own the reality... I am not trim anymore, not like I was through my divorce angst a year ago when we met, when I looked fantastic besides being emotionally bankrupt. Beyond his noticing my changes, I have seen them myself in myriad department store changing room mirrors over the past weekend, where the indisputable reality that clothes aren't fitting me -- and seeing the body parts responsible in oh-so-flattering flourescent light -- hit home in a tangible way. I want to lose ten pounds. Ten pounds.

I will lose ten pounds.

I did join a gym, and while his comments motivated that change, it was one I had wanted anyway, though I procrastinated because of financial concerns. But I love it now. I love the exercise classes, the social opportunities, the variety. Of course, being so busy with my courses and work makes it hard to get down there, but I do go four or five times a week, which I think is a terrific average. I'm working hard, too... not just meandering on a treadmill but attempting butt-whooping classes like spinning and step-combo aerobics, even an interval swimming class that leaves me gasping and ready to sink. I feel alive when I work out. I didn't realize how unalive I'd been feeling, as I sat my (not horribly) lumpy butt on my (rather more) lumpy couch and watched soap operas over the summer.

I was lying in bed the other night, and it occurred to me in a weird, out of body way that I was lying in a bed I used to share with my ex-husband. I had actually been married, had lived in this house with a man who was my husband, and thought I was sharing my life with someone meaningfully, although I wasn’t. I find it hard to imagine that there was ever another person here, permanently here, in my house with me. Now it’s my house. Then, it was our house, and it was our house for three years… how funny to have it dawn on me that not only is it all my house, but I can’t even really believe it was ever anything else but wholly mine. Spiritually, I have claimed this house. While it still looks largely the same as it did when I was married, it's not. It’s changed, and that's not a matter of record with the county, but a matter of territorial claim. I know rationally that there was once a man of this house, who was married to me... that this was also his house too at one point in time... but that ideas seems surprisingly incomprehensible to me now, almost impossible.

My nephew is growing, both in girth and in beauty. I will go home to my hometown and see him for Thanksgiving or Christmas. I am encouraging my family to come for one or the other of the holidays, but they are dragging their feet. They haven't been here in over a year, though. Maybe I ought to point that out. Their argument is, "We'll be seeing you for one of the holidays here... why should we travel for the other one?" I know my nephew is a big draw, though. I should cut them some slack.