the sugar stand off

Ocean City is a sugar lover's paradise. From breakfast through dessert it's possible to exist solely on sweets.

There are Dot's freshly baked donuts around the corner - they also are famous for monkey bread and these crazy sticky buns with cream cheese icing. Or one could indulge in pecan stuffed pancakes. Or chocolate chip. Or strawberry preserves, all topped with whipped cream. I'm throwing ice cream covered waffles in here too.

Fudge shops abound. I've seen dozens of varieties.

At least 3 home made ice cream shops are within walking distance of the house we rented.

Full disclosure: I haven't indulged in most of the above. My tumble into sugar happened slowly over last winter so I wasn't down at the shore to be tempted around the clock. But, it's the boardwalk that always got me.

Cotton candy. Water ice. Zeppoles. Caramel corn.

And my personal nemesis - custard cones.

Let me be specific here: Kohr's brothers custard. A chocolate peanut butter mix topped with either chocolate sprinkles or a fresh chocolate dip (the latter I discovered last summer).

These cones are perfection. Rich, creamy, dense but not overwhelming. Watching the sun set over the ocean, slowly licking that rich ice cream is an addictive kind of heaven.

Ever summer I'd clamor for my cones, they were part of the reason going to the boardwalk was one of my summer staples.

But, I don't eat sugar anymore.

I wondered if I'd indulge. Cave in. Allow myself the culinary luxury. Or even if I'd crave one at this point.

For the first week I had no desire. Every time we'd pass a stand (and that happens often on the boardwalk), I felt no pull. But 2 days ago, after a kick ass bike ride that included crossing a narrow bridge with cars and no shoulders, hours at the beach boogie boarding, and with a post go kart high, I wanted a cone. I didn't crave it or need it or have to have or I'd die (I've felt that way before) but I wanted one. We hadn't even eaten dinner yet but there I was, on that familiar line, ordering a chocolate peanut butter twist with chocolate dip.

I wondered if I'd be ok. If I'd gain weight. If these months of living sugar free were about to be destroyed.

I licked.

All I can say is oh my god. It was creamy. Dreamy. As the flavors melted across my tongue I was at the point of swooning. Damn.

It was also intense. Rich. By the time I finished - and of course I ate the whole thing - I knew I was done. I didn't need another. Sugar wasn't going to take over my life or at least my summer.

I ate it. I enjoyed it. I indulged, savored, reveled, delighted. But I don't need to do it again.

And I realized, sugar has a different place in my life. It's not a reward or a pacifier anymore, te constant companion I can't live without. It's a very rare visitor I can enjoy and then easily say goodbye to.

Bikini miracle

I interrupt this self imposed blogging hiatus to share a true miracle.

A bikini miracle.

Quick back story: I've never been a bikini wearer. Too insecure. Too self conscious. Too hippy. But a few years ago I was inspired by a fabulous looking friend to ditch one pieces. Not caring so much about what other people think helped. Plus, peeing in a one piece, especially when it's wet, is true hell.

So, we headed to the local Ocean City department store and I found a bikini that looked not bad. Blue daisies on a brown and white background. I ended up loving it so much I ordered another one - psychedelic swirls of pink, orange, brown, and turquoise - online.

Every summer I make my annual trek to the same store to add to my collection. I've now purchased a white with pink and brown flowers and a pink, orange and yellow tie dyed version.

This summer, no luck. I saw a couple of suits I liked but nothing in my size.

And then, in Hoy's, the local 5&10, I found a bottom I loved. LOVED. Trippy 60's pattern in all my favorite colors. My size. But, no top.

(here's the miracle part)

Later that afternoon I got an email from the placed I'd ordered my second bikini from, years ago, announcing a summer sale. Never thinking they'd have that suit in stock, I scrolled through the images.

There was the matching pattern.

The only piece available (out of 6 options) was the style top I like.

In my size.

It was a bathing suit meant to be mine.

The bottom is now in my bathing suit drawer. The top is on it's way.

Just call me a bikini match maker

vacation time

I thought I'd commit to writing every day while I'm away but I'm finding the opposite is true. I haven't even cracked open my laptop. No urges to surf the web, scour eBay, read the news.

I'm thinking when I'm back in the city, I'll think about kicking my keyboard's butt again. Until then folks, happy end of summer).

and old fashioned, angst-filled rant

I slept on the couch last night. In 22 years of being married, 23 years of living together, 27 years of being together, it was a first.

It was a bad night. It wasn't a great day. It hasn't been a great week. I was reamed for being lazy, irresponsible, inefficient, neglectful. I can't remember the exact words but the general gist is that I do nothing when someone else does everything. And that I am single-handedly raising children who are the same way.

How does one react to such a sweeping condemnation of everything about oneself?

Hysteric crying. Which, I have to say, is hard to do on meds.

I'm finding it's hard to do many things on meds that maybe I should be doing. Like accomplishing things. Finishing what I've started. Crossing thing off my to-do list. Having a to-do list to cross things off of. Yes, I'm mellower, more complacent, more content, but damn, where the hell am I?

What do I do?

Do I let the anxiety back in and plunge to the depths again, knowing that I'll have those super highs too? At this point I've got nothing going on and maybe, just at the edges, it's starting to scare me.

Who am I?

I mean truly–WHO AM I?

WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?

There. I said it. And even not knowing, not having an inkling, an idea, an anything, I'm not freaked out. Normally, I'd be psycho at this point.

There are things about this place that I like: I'm in great shape. I can ride my bike in the city. Drive my car without panic. Not get endlessly lost in the spin in my head. I obsess less. Relax more. I'm not terrified that I'll fall off the edge again.

But I'm not doing anything when I have so much to do. I've got a PTA to run. A movie to collaborate on. Books I could start. And finish. I could update my website. Blog every day. Finish the films I've started. Start new ones I've thought of. Clean out my desk drawer.

Take my kids to interesting places.

Be more involved in the food we eat.

Scrub the living room floor.

Paint the apartment.

Train the dog.

Tackle the stack of paperwork on my desk.

Pack for vacation.

Set up my router and backup system on my computer.

Sell my old set up.

Clean the car.

But, instead, I made a bracelet. It's lovely—2 brown leather cords with purple jade laced in between—but that won't get me far in life. I have to say, it does look nice though.

I take naps.

I sit.

Am I farther along the path or am I going backwards? I can't tell. I don't know.

Do I stay here, in this slightly numb place or do I jump back into the whirlpool?

Is this just the lazy days of summer or am I starting to rot?

What am I doing with my life?

Who do I want to be?

Damn. No one can answer any of this but me and I just don't want to spin at the moment.

Comfortably numb

I've been thinking lately, just a bit, just a glimmer here and there, about thinking. About how lately it's been such a blessing to not think. To not hurt. To not suffer the way I'm hard wired to.

To not be in pain.

To not be digging deep, analyzing, figuring things out.

Here's the truth. The absolute rock bottom, depths of my soul honest truth. I'm terrified to feel those things again. To feel so lost, so out of control. So sure my mind would splinter into pieces that I wouldn't be able to put back together.

Yes, so much of who I am comes from that place of doubt, of darkness, of exploration. I know that.

I own that.

I was that for my entire life.

But I don't want to be that now.

Yes I miss words flowing, the disciple of writing, the moments of awareness and the growth thy followed. I miss hearing from people with words of understanding, compassion, beauty.

I miss you.

But I don't miss that part of me. I start to panic when even the smallest flicker of anxiety flits by. It's not welcome anymore. It ruled my life for too many years. I was lost under it's spell.

where I am now

I am happy.

Yup folks.

Tonight, lying on my back in the hallway, the puppy stretched out between me and Iz, both of us scratching her warm, soft belly, I was totally complete.

Wheeling my bike out of the repair shop this afternoon, after they fixed my brakes, I was sincerely delighted.

Reading my kid's test scores online tonight, I was thoroughly thrilled.

Waking up from an early morning nap, I was deliciously sated.

My smiles are endless. My laughs are heartfelt. My heart is full.

I am content. Mellow. Even lazy.

I have never felt like this before and have no idea how long it can last.

But I'm loving the here and now.

biking high

I rode fast today. FAST. At times, as I flew down the west side highway, heart pumping, breathing hard, I could only laugh it felt so good.

This driven, competitive side of me is coming back. I haven't felt it in longer than I can remember. I was riding with friends this morning, third out of 3 and suddenly I had to move. It was more like MOVE. I sped past and then fought to keep pace with a guy up ahead, determined not to lose him as he skirted the edge of the river.

I didn't catch up. But I never lost sight of him.

I was so focused so present so in the moment so aware of the blood pumping through my heart.

It's been hours. I'm still high.

I can't wait to ride again.