Post #157: Transitions and Journeys

Okay, I can cook. I can even bake decently. Lately, I have not been inspired to cook or bake. In fact, I am eating pretty substantially, without bells and whistles. I feel good.  I am not eating exactly tofu, but I am eating much better than I was.  I am eating lowfat, low calories, plenty of fruits and veggies,  drinking lots of water, making myself get good sleep, taking my vitamins, and all that jazz.  I have put myself back where I was before my metabolism jumped back to its teenage years while I was nursing and running and eating whatever I wanted (not good for the body). 

I will be the first to admit that it is BORING to blog about healthy eating. Truly. I would rather blog about other caloric culinary masterpieces, but I can't.  My diet is beautifully nutritious and consistent.  I will however blog like I used to blog, which was about everything! This could include special occasion foods, memories, ponderings, humor, reflections, kids, family, love and marriage, just whatever.

So here is a transition from food blog to blah blog.  Let's see how it goes.

Installment One: How It All Began...

It all began with a whisper. You know the one that runs around in your little mind, reminding you of things you need to do, things you did, things you want to do, or should. Gradually, as the years have passed and the half written journals have collected dust, the whisper becomes louder. Write. Write. Write something, it says. I listen. I shrug. Who cares what I have to say? But the whisper can not be discouraged. It is as stubborn as me.

So today, from my second story bedroom, in front of my computer given to me by my loving husband, I will write, write something.

If Freudian theory holds true, a lot of my personality and characteristics could be traced to my parentless background. Most definitely, Freud could and probably would attribute the essence of me to that. I come from meager and unexceptional circumstances. My parents decided early in life that parenthood was not cut out for them, or rather that they were not cut out for it. My twin sister and I could not agree more. Luckily, they both had the good sense to leave us with my maternal grandparents. This decision made all the difference in our world.

From my grandparents, we learned by example a lot of strong traits, good and bad. The good ones were the strong work ethics and warm people skills. The bad ones impatience and stubbornness. Of course, these are just to name a few of both. Whatever we learned, it is safe to say that we were loved, we were wanted, and we were well taken care of. That is more than some other less fortunate kids could claim out there, and we saw plenty in our poor neighborhood.

We were raised on the side of our small North Texas town called The Eastside. It was a predominantly black neighborhood,with long standing Hispanic families residing here and there. For the most part, everyone kept to themselves. Many too suspicious to form friendships. Others just did not want to be bothered with forming friendships. Of course the common watering hole was the local family owned and operated small grocery store that stood on the corner, across from our house. Like most isolated mom and pop stores, its prices were high and its inventory slim, but it had cigarettes and rolling paper, and it had credit in the form of a bill. It also had cokes, ice cream, and a little toy section, just in view for kids to see.

For the longest time, my sister and I did not know anything of our neighborhood except that store, that kids could be found to play with, and that there were plenty of places to explore, especially on our bikes.

My childhood was what a childhood should be, filled with exploring, freedom, frolicking, abandon, wonder, laughter, and activity. There is nothing that can compare to a child's imagination. I still remember thinking as a child. I miss it.