I Sweat Decaf

“What, no coffee?” a tall sporty-looking guy says, walking by me in the market.  I swear I’ve never seen this guy before. 

I go to the gym for a lazy workout in the early afternoon.  I do this every day.  I don’t work up a sweat and I don’t try hard.  I’m angry at myself for getting plantar faciitis after running the Marathon last year.  I can’t run so I don’t care.  Why bother working up a sweat if you don’t get outside and go anywhere?

Even though I don’t sweat, I shower.  The shower is the reason for joining the gym.  It’s toxic breathing the moldy fixer bathroom at home.  Today, while waiting for the water to get hot, I smell the distinct beautiful aroma of Major Dickason’s blend, the coffee of the day at Peet’s, where I wasted my morning.

“Since when does shower mold smell like Peet’s?” I say.  Before I ask the naked old lady next to me to confirm the coffee smell, I realize the odor is me.  I smell like Major Dickason’s.  I smell so much like Major Dickason’s I can permeate the whole shower stall naked.

Charlie and I greet at our church.  We stand outside, by the coffee service, and say, “Hi.”  They like us out here because we have “outside voices,” we’ve been told.  We think it’s our calling to open the doors for complete strangers.  They think they are complete strangers.  We know better.

“You were at Peet’s this morning,” Charlie says.  “You have a cute dog.  Very well behaved.”

“Oh, hi,” they say.  “Oh, yes I remember.”

Is it possible to spend too much time in coffee places?

I grew up with an alternative medicine Mom.  Although she survived her divorce only through the miracle of modern anti-depressants, I can’t even down ibuprofen without getting shaky.  I therefore tend to be creative with my ailment problem-solving methods.

Nothing conventional cured me of eating disorders, which I had for most of my life.  Instead, I spent five and a half weeks on the back of Charlie’s motorcycle riding to Florida last year to get better*.  It worked. 

Now I’m so stressed I’ve farmed up a healthy rash on my face and talk so fast I could create sparks.  I feel like I rebooted my brain; like it was cleaned and dried but not put away in the right drawers yet.  You know something’s wrong when you look at the word “the” and wonder if you spelled it correctly.  ‘Is that a word?’ you think.  ‘Did I just make it up?  What kind of a word is ‘the?’ anyway?

I decided I needed a little Peet’s aromatherapy.  Starbucks wouldn’t do: everyone in there is so busy and important and pushy in the morning.  I only have time to relax in the morning.  I can’t reschedule my stress.

I don’t know how long I can keep this hiding out at Peet’s habit going, but you have to admit it’s working.  My rash isn’t so red.  In fact, my face is normal size and if I bother to wear make-up, it might cover it completely.  During my three hour meeting yesterday, I noticed I kept my mouth shut when my brain started chattering.  Somehow I didn’t find the urge to blurt out whatever happened to be going on up there.  I’m sure that’s the reason people didn’t run out in a sweaty blur when we were done this time.

I still have a big project due soon, so I still have to work late at night and deal with noncompliant people who don’t do what they say.  I still delete big chunks of text while editing with my creative formatting commands.

I’m still watching a pregnant unmarried twenty-five year-old stepdaughter screw up her life under my needing-to-be-replaced roof.  There’s nothing I can do so it’s best to keep my distance.  If I were at home, I’d want to do stuff for her that she should be doing.  I’d spend money we don’t have.  I’d make her life easier.  She needs to make her own decisions and suffer her own consequences.  I’ll drink decaf and watch from the sidelines.

I’ve still got a stepson who’s been in Tallil, Iraq since September 11th.  He never wanted a relationship with me when he lived with me, but I’m the only one with his last name who knows how to send email.  So he wrote me today.  He sounded excited, saying his assignment is, “more of a journey than a hardship at this point.”  You can’t get a rash over that.

Then there’s living in the Lake Oswego landfill from hell.  After three days of infinite refills, hell isn’t looking so bad.  Two people yesterday told me, “Your house is looking really nice.”  After the initial embarrassment that they were even looking at my house, I had to admit they were right.  Both the deck and the landscaping are more than halfway done.  Nothing’s been that close to completion for over three years.

We effortlessly and painlessly increased our home equity line of credit.  Signing those papers felt as good as finishing the marathon, without the sweat.  We now have the power to sub.  I could be worried about spending equity, but going crazy from worry could cost a lot, too. 

So far the only subs we’ve hired are skateboarders, but we have plans.  I wrote a check last week to some skinny guy when he sounded excited about replacing the back siding.  Maybe, after over three years, I can finish painting the back of the house.  Nothing feels as good as getting something done.

I’m done with my refill here at Peet’s.  I’m not Charlie: I’m a one refill girl.  I drink the first one down as fast as I can.  I spend the rest of the morning sipping, hoping there’s room for just a little more.  There’s no better medicine than a healthy dose of half and half.

The manager at Peet’s, who I’ve never met, just walked by and said, “How’re you doing, Jill?”

Since when does he know my name?

*Big Time Food Issues Road Trip:  My first blog.  I deleted the entries and compiled them into a book.  It’s still too difficult for me to read.  What was wrong with me, being like that?  Oh yeah, eating disorders.  Remembering how I used to be so freaked out about food and body image is like remembering a Jim Jarmusch movie.  Was that me? 

And, no, I didn’t get all fat by saying goodbye to bulimia (and anorexia before that).  I’m in better shape and I’m pretty sure I weigh less.  I don’t know for sure, though, I’m too lazy to get on a scale.

A little help? [] 4:57:43 PM