Welcoming 2010

A friend of mine, who recently published a book btw which can be found at Amazon, pointed out today on his Facebook page that technically the new decade doesn't begin until 2011.

It made me think about the last time I heard this debate. 2000 - the new millenium? Or did we have to wait for 2001?

I didn't wait. I'm not waiting now. This first decade of the 21st century found me exactly where I'd left off. Married and not particularly happily, and a spook.

6 months after it started I was still married but no longer a spook. Spinning wildly and feeling like I'd been completely betrayed by an organization I'd given my entire adult life to I was faced with the choice to shut up and be obedient...or be able to look myself in the mirror in the morning.

The face that looks back at me is older, sometimes sadder, but always confident in knowing that I may be imperfect but I am my own person. For the first time in 17 years I told a certain government agency "no." It cost me dearly - but not as dearly as if I had been compliant.

On September 11, 2001 three thousand people lost their lives. The result, I believe, of an intelligence community going horribly wrong. We saw a part of that in 2000 and we were largely silent...or powerless...in the face of enormous determination and incompetence. I sometimes wonder if things would have been different had I been strong enough to take the stand that needed to be taken.

It is the impossible wondering of a woman. I don't know that anyone would have been strong enough to stand up in the face of the accusations and delusion we faced and do what needed to be done. It was hard enough not to just agree to be "wrong" and be allowed back in to the fold.

The past 10 years have been the best of my life in terms of personal growth. I've accomplished more, experienced more, and become better. They have been harder than any other 10 years of my life. I am still a mom but my work is different and mid-decade I finally bid adieu to a good man who was not the man for me. I know less today than I did at 34.

But today I am grateful for being so much more than I was at this time in 1999. I am praying for the second decade of the 21st century to be one of more joy and less hardship. I am hoping for...hope.

I might end this year skinnier. I might be healthier. I might be more successful. But I will, for certain, no longer be just the "ex-spook." The Agency is my past. I need it to stay there. I am a better person for having left - time to be that person all the way through.

NL

Neither Julie nor Julia but...

While visiting my sister and extended family last weekend we watched Julie & Julia. For me, again.

I really like the movie. I almost never watch a movie twice but there are a few notable exceptions. Anything Star Trek, Benny & Joon, and most Robin Williams movies.

Now Julie & Julia.

As I've been wandering around the "spouse of a diabetic" world - trying to figure out exactly *what* my role in all of this is supposed to be and trying to be a much better person than comes naturally to me - I've taken up cooking.

This is not the first time I've taken up cooking. The last time was when I joined Weight Watchers and had to admit to my then husband of 10 years and the rest of my family that I'd been keeping a secret. I can cook beyond a baked ham or cookies.

Chris knows I can cook. He also knows that that I firmly believe the requirement TO eat is one of the greatest jokes God ever played on mankind.

In the movie Julie & Julia there is clearly a great love of food. I do not share that in common with them. Although I do believe that butter makes everything better. And butter with lemon? Or butter with brown sugar? Oh yum.

At night I send Chris to the gym. Then I put on some music and pour a glass of wine. I spend the next 30 to 45 minutes concocting.

I've discovered the creativity to be had in cooking. Color. Smell. Taste. A little this, a bit of that.

This morning Chris was comparing our cooking. On a scale of 1-10 he says he's at most a 5. Occasionally a 7. But me? I'm occasionally a 5 but usually in the 7 to 9 range. He reserves 1's and 10's for those really extreme moments. So 9 is as good as it gets.

He likes eating what I cook. He says that at some point it just "turned on" for me. It did.

When I got angry with him I took to my kitchen. I rewarded his not telling me about his diagnosis and pill decision by baking all weekend long. Food he could not eat. Food I deliberately taunted him with. I found comfort in baking. I never find comfort in eating so I was happy to throw out everything I made. I just enjoyed making it knowing he wanted it and couldn't eat it.

In a way, I was cooking for him. And it turns out that I *like* cooking for him. I like that he genuinely enjoys what I make, knows I never know exactly what will happen but somehow it is flavorful and good for him (having gotten over the punishing him with food he can't have business.)

I bought a diabetes cookbook for him for Christmas. Diabetes recipe software for me.

I read through the book. It is uninspired.

Unlike last night's dinner of baked ham, baked sweet potatoes, southern collard greens (which he had three helpings of - the secret is bacon grease!) and mexicali cornbread. A meal that in balance was really good for him. Oh, and very very southern.

So last night I bought the two volume set "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" and I'm going to give some of the recipes a whirl. Not all of them. Julia Child had too great a fondness for mushrooms and seafood - neither of which I can eat. But the rich, creamy, lemon-buttery sauces the French and us southerners are known for.

Screw diabetes. I'm going to cook for the shear joy of it. Somehow I don't think it will hurt if I apply a bit of creativity to Julia Child's recipes - and maybe end up with things healthier as a result.

NL