Rigmarole

I finally listened to my phone messages. My big sister Mary didn't say anything specific but I could tell by her voice she is all concerned about me. The call I thought I had received from my dad actually had come from my sister, Kelly, who was at his house this afternoon with my other sisters, talking about me and deciding about alternative things I could do with my life. She said something about Macy's hiring Christmas help.

These people love me. I love these people.

I sent an e-mail to Beth and Kelly telling them I am not planning to work at Macy's and live with my dad but I appreciate the thoughts and I know they are well intended. They are trying very sincerely to be helpful, I know that. But I told them I absolutely have to put health before economics and it wouldn't be healthy for me -- when I have been so off track with my food lately -- to live with my dad, or probably with any of them, as much as I love them.

They are very interested in being near me, I think. They probably want me closer so that they can have a better eye on me. I live an hour and a half from my dad and one of my sisters and two and a half hours from two of my sisters. It's not all that far but...

Anyway, I digress.

The point is I had a real victory in standing up for myself and telling them they are welcome to support me in getting up and going with the raw food gig but I am not going to back down on this and they need to understand that.

And I just wasn't feeling strong enough to call my sister, Mary. She is very loving in many ways but she has very strong opinions and also -- she IS THE ONE who used to make me stand on my bed at attention for half an hour when I was a sassy child (or if I was breathing too loud). I won't take that woman's health advice. I love her. But I think I can do better to figure this all out on my own. This raw food idea is an inspiration. I am increasingly certain of it. I am meant to do it. I am meant to go to that center. It's like destiny. I am happy and sure about it.

I was going to send Mary a long snail mail letter explaining why I feel the way I do and everything and then I realized I didn't have to explain anything -- just assert my boundaries in a loving and warm and creative way.

So I sent a postcard instead. It's a gargoyle postcard from Notre Dame that I picked up a few years ago in Paris. That made me feel like a grown up. Mary's never been to Paris. She HATES travel. Hates it! We are polar opposites. I'm happy just to sit in an airport or train station. It always makes me smile to see people coming and going. Not Mary. She hates the rigmarole. She hates ANY rigmarole. That's my big sister -- a hater of rigmarole. Personally, I always have been quite a fan of rigmarole unless, of course, it's bureaucratic (but if it involves an opportunity for using my special talent at charming bureaucrats, then even that type of rigmarole isa an adventure).

So anyway, I just sent her a postcard:

"Dear Mary, This postcard I picked up in Paris years ago. Hope you enjoy the Gargoyle! I love you very much but I am not returning your phone call until I get accepted into the raw foods community because I suspect you will not like it and I am going to do it anyway.
Love to you always,
Patty xoxo"