Determined . . . or delusional?

It takes me about 17 minutes to get from my home in the country to the town where we work and do our necessaries—grocery shopping, doctor appointments, cleaners, etc. There are homes along the way—mostly on ranches—and lots of cows and horses. After over ten years of this mostly daily drive, I never tire of the scenery, as we live on the edge of the Texas Hill Country.

Last week, on a routine errand trip, I did a double-take! I saw a cow craning her neck so far through a fence I thought for sure she’d need a cow chiropractor before it was all over. She was in a pasture with at least twenty other cows—a big pasture—full of hay, grass and lots of vegetation cows and bulls must love to eat. Yet nothing was going to stop this cowgal from reaching what she wanted on the other side of that fence. Although I could see what she was doing, I couldn’t tell, exactly, what was so tempting. I don’t know if it was something extra green. Or chocolate. I only know she wanted it—bad.

I just had to giggle. I realized I would probably be a cow like that—hell-bent on finding the exceptionally yummy stuff. I cannot deny I have a severe sweet tooth. I want sugar—every day. And lots of it. But seeing that cow so determined to get whatever that was made me think about some of the goals I’ve hoped to reach in my 57 years.

I was determined to meet Paul McCartney. I was ten years old when The Beatles came to America. That first Ed Sullivan show was the most exciting night of my life—to that point. I was so immediately hooked, I can’t imagine my addiction to sugar ever having been as strong as that early addiction to The Fab Four. I wanted every album they made, every teen magazine they were featured in, and to see them on every television show and any and all movies they graced with their presence. Of course I dreamed of going to one of their concerts (I assure you, though, I would NOT have screamed, cried, or made a silly fool of myself). Alas, that never happened. I’m not sure I’m over that.  By the time I was fourteen, I thought I might be able to marry Paul—if only I could meet him. I suppose you can guess that probably didn't happen. Sigh.

I tried two colleges in two semesters after graduating from high school. Neither went well. I went to work full-time, after the second failure, and knew, in less than a year, that—surprise!—college really was for me! Real life and work is TOUGH. I enrolled in a small Texas state university in the Fall of 1973 and fell in love. With everyone and everything. I had no car after my first semester and never had any money. But I had determination, good and generous friends, kind professors, and patient and caring bosses. I graduated with a BBA in August of 1976.

After surviving breast cancer at the age of 40, a modified radical mastectomy and chemo, I became determined to get a graduate degree. I earned a Master’s of Education in Guidance and Counseling in May of 2000. Out of 48 graduate hours—or 16 courses, none on-line--I made two Bs. The rest were As. A far cry better than my grades as an undergrad! I worked ten years at a third “career”—I’m counting TLC as my second and permanently never-ending career—and have now mostly retired.

My latest determination? What else? To lose weight. Duh. You thought I might actually be unique or, more accurately, realistic? 35 pounds—minimum. By June. Just in time for our 40^th High School Reunion. I’m very worried my resolve isn’t as strong as it used to be. I may need to order my next-to-the-last diet book.