Still Midwest

I haven't been able to really be online since landing in the Midwest; I've checked my email and pertinent things on my Blackberry, but since this is the first "vacation" since leaving my old job I knew I needed to have the first trip where my laptop, for the most part, stays in my luggage.

Tonight I've spent a little bit of time uploading pictures, replying to messages and reading stories and blogs I have gotten behind on. I checked my blog reader for new posts from my blog list and, forgetfully searched for a new post from Lemmondrops before realizing that there wouldn't be. And won't ever be.

I don't really have the words to express how I feel, but I'm really...sad. I miss her insight. I feel like I could use it tonight.

I really hope that Emilie knew how much her writing inspired her readers. And how very much she is mourned and missed.




An Eve and and End, or Beginning

I got up this morning and rushed to upload some photos I wanted to print before leaving tonight. I got dressed, and rushed out, only to deal with the hordes of people trying to spend money before the stores close for Christmas. I got annoyed and angry at people who were driving like idiots. I almost got hit by a car while walking. I got less done than I wanted to, and came home feeling annoyed.

And then, I logged on to my blog, and saw a post in my reader that I didn't expect to see. I knew I'd see it someday, but I didn't expect, on Christmas Eve, to see this post, titled "Emilie's Passing". I almost didn't click on it, but I did.

It's amazing to me that someone who I have never met has touched my life. I never once spoke to Emilie, but the honesty she shared through her writing made me feel as though I knew her. She was so open, so genuine, and so real about her life and her soul. I found Emilie's blog through my Sister In Law, right before her oldest son was born, and I've followed her ever since. Looking through the comments left for her over the past months, I can see that hundreds of other people who found her blog through one vein or another have been touched just as I have.

Now, I sit on the floor of my living room, with so much stuff left to do, and no ambition to do any of it. I can only think of sitting next to my husband, enjoying him, listening to him, keeping him close to me. Doing and being the little things that I miss in my hurried nature far too often.

I ache for Emilie's husband and her two sons. I know they will be alright. I know Emilie's spirit will keep them and guide them as they grow, teaching them that life is about love and soul and spirit. I think about what a miracle it was for Emilie to become pregnant with her youngest son naturally, when she and her husband tried for two years with fertility help before conceiving their oldest son. Had Ben not been conceived, so magically, Emilie would most likely have had much less time when she finally learned of her cancer. Instead, she was able to survive (and her son in utero) a surgery, lots of chemo, and another year. I smile for the connection that little Ben will feel with his mother, even after he's forgotten her touch.

I'll leave you with a post Emilie wrote two years ago that I stumbled upon just yesterday and re-read, feeling a much different sentiment than I did the first time I read it: Easter Prayer.

Emilie, rest in peace.



Oh, I suppose

...I'll write a blog post to start off this Monday morning, even though I doubt anyone will read it considering it's Christmas week and people are busy with gifts and travel.

Remember all those big plans I had for blogging once I wasn't working anymore. FAIL. Final projects and papers for school have totally overtaken my life for the past three weeks. I have done nothing but stare at the computer and draw. I drew so much that my thumb hurt. That is not usual for me. I do not particularly like to draw. I would much rather paint. Or print. But, thankfully, that class is out of the way.

Ohhh but I'm done now, at least until February. I will again try to schedule myself time to get moving.

We're leaving on Christmas Eve for Wisconsin/Minnesota, and I'm excited to be staying in the Midwest for an entire week. I'm not excited about trying to travel between families.

David has weird work days this week to make up for the PTO he's taking over the next week, so today and tomorrow are the days we'll finish our shopping and pack. I have done basically very little for Christmas so far, so I'm hoping to hunker down.



Mini Golf

My husband turned 27 this year, and decided that he wanted to go mini golfing. There is a sad lack of mini golf in this area, and he's been missing it and pining away since we moved. Recently, he located a charming little establishment about a half an hour inland called Scandia , and on his birthday, also a Sunday, we journeyed to this Scandinavian themed Americana family fun for all.

It was an enjoyable adventure until about the 16th hole, when I launched my ball toward the Windmill with closing door, and the ball bounced off said door and flying toward the two of us and the kids behind us. David leaped into the air to deflect the ball, but he was also carrying my baby, otherwise known as the Canon. It slid off his arm and hit the cement with a crack heard across the world. It was hilarious. Hilarious and awful, but I couldn't decide whether or not to laugh or cry. Luckily, the lens just feathered - it will last at least until I can afford to pick up my choice lenses .

David Golfing

Don't Swing!

David @ Scandia

David and Nissa at Mini Golf

Happy birthday, hon.




I've been subduing my sensitive side on this blog lately, opting for less gory material as I transition into a profession that bares only my name. But I'm throwing up my hands on that one for the time being and throwing up a nice healthy chunk of language because I'm hungry and annoyed. The hunger is caused by a changed eating habit that incorporates smaller, more frequent meals and a very low caloric intake. The annoyance is caused by the hunger.

For those of you who know me, I'm chubby. Some would say fat, though I choose not to. For most of my life I have been chubby, save for a short time in high school when I "discovered" starvation and got down to a size 8 - which by many standards is still "fat". Since then, I've gone between 12 -14-16 regularly.

Until two years ago, I barely thought about my weight - I thought. I never dieted, even when I was on the heavier side. When I started planning my wedding in 2006, I freaked, as I'm sure most women do. Friends and family I rarely see. Pictures that will last for-ev-er. I went on the South Beach Diet, which consists of mostly meat protein, very little carbohydrates and the substitution of sugar with alternative. It worked. I lost 8 inches around my waist between my first dress fitting and the day I tried on the original muslin, much to her chagrin but happiness for me. It felt great. I gave up sugared soda and learned about portions, but I was miserable without bread and pasta. I ended that diet a few weeks before my wedding when my husband convinced me to try vegetarianism, which made great sense to me after some investigation. By the time December rolled around, I had gained all of that weight back.

Fast forward to 2008, past endless diets and fasts, pounds lost and pounds gained. I'm miserable. More miserable than I've ever been, because I've realized that my problems with food and weight are much more than a few extra calories not burned on the treadmill. My problem is my head. And this problem has been reocurring, but hidden behind the other crap my brain has been dealing with.

(Remember, I warned you at the beginning of this post. )

Being an emotional eater is not at all out of the ordinary. I imagine there are more women who do it than women who don't, so I've found no shortage of confidants in the battle. It just sucks, and will always suck. And attempting to deal with the problem, while cutting calories and ending the binging, is like losing your best friend when you need them most. There's no one to quiet the horror inside my head; just visions of mashed potatoes. Withdrawl.

Crappy food is everywhere. Horrible, high calorie, saturated fat touting foods that are advertised on Television all hours of the day. Why not have a Carls Jr. Hamburger stuffed with bacon? Why not add double meat to your Subway sandwich? You've got to eat M&M's. And Ice Cream. And don't forget to take a trip to Taco Bell for fourth meal! These are not foods that I ever eat. But when I'm "dieting", they sound like gourmet, gotta have foods.

In fact, the only time that I truly feel hunger is when I'm dieting. Not because I'm always eating, but because, when I'm just normal me, I eat when my emotions tell me to. Not my stomach. I eat when my Mom calls. I eat when I'm depressed. I eat when I'm manic. I eat when I'm bored. I don't eat tons of garbage or thousands of calories. I just eat what makes me feel better.

It's sad. And I've tried to fix it, and failed, so many times. This battle trumps the battle with manic depression; because success is like a pipe dream. At least with the MD I can taste happiness and feel progression that doesn't recind with one mistake. Emotional eating controls my life.

And though I've never felt like my weight horribly affects my beauty, I've realized recently that I never admitted to myself that my weight was a problem. Now, as a "grown up", I have. I feel like I'm shorting myself life. I've begun losing confidence because I don't feel comfortable in my body. I feel like the person on the inside is lost by the person on the outside, who just feels out of control - not ugly - just wrong. It affects my relationship with my husband, not because of how he feels but because I am uncomfortable sharing what I am with him.

It might sound like another fat girl's sob story, but this "chubby" girl has never felt like this. So out of control. Ashamed, and defeated. I used to think fat wasn't bad; and now I think that fat is all that's possible. I can't even imagine being comfortable in my own body, but the thought of what I'm stuck with causes thoughts of actions I won't share with you in this public blog post. And when it comes down to it, when it hurts and I eat, I feel better. I feel comforted.

And the comfort is defeat.




Thanksgiving is generally a non-holiday in this Brehmer household, because David is usually working so that we may use his time off for Christmas travels. This year, we're spending an entire week in the Midwest, and we're both 90% happy to give up Thanksgiving for a longer Christmas trip. The 10% of non happiness is reserved for wishing that we could begin our own family traditions for the holiday, considering they'll be quite different than those we grew up with, sans turkey.

This year, my favorite California lady Taylor invited me to spend the day with her family. We didn't do much cooking - in fact, the only thing I did was peel potatoes - because her husband and her brother in law's boyfriend took on the preparations for the day. It was nice to lounge around with Taylor and her daughter while taking in the warm scent of cooking turkey and mashed potatoes(I still love how turkey smells while baking, even though I don't eat it).

It's also interesting to observe the different traditions of different families. I was rather surprised that Taylor's family didn't serve green bean casserole, considering that's the staple of my family Thanksgivings. No matter, though, because any family that incorporates mashed potatoes in to their dinner will have a happy guest in me. I could eat them for days.

Anyway, onward to December, a.k.a. the month for eating everything you see.



Live: Etsy Store!

I'm happy to announce that I've launched my Etsy store!

I'm very, VERY happy to have finally gotten here.

Even better: I made a sales within 30 minutes of my first listing!

Check out my store here: Nissa Nicole's Etsy Store

I'll be adding more listings daily.


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