Good luck with your…food choices!

Uhmm…who is this for?

At dinner the other day my oldest daughter, when asked how her day was at school, let my husband and I know that the food pyramid was over, ”it’s a food plate now Mom so get with it!”.

My first impression was “hallelujah!”, because I could never remember that darn pyramid at all and if you couldn’t remember the pyramid then you couldn’t actively lose weight in a responsible manner now can you?

The plate, put in place by Mrs. Obama, is one of those “duh, why didn’t I think of that?” ideas.  Let’s be serious, who actually eats off a pyramid?  To clarify I am talking about a pyramid  that you put food on, not browsing through some historic site in Egypt and then sitting down to rest and have a light lunch.

Starting over, if we ate off a three-dimensional pyramid it would be a short meal that would descend into a messy and contentious food fight as we chase the different groups across the table, grabbing for what was our as the starch, meats and protein rolls downhill seeking freedom.  The only thing left that would be edible,  not touched by others,  and germ free would be the base of the pyramid, which is…uhm, I can’t remember.

Because we eat off plates the First Lady decided to simplify this lesson to school children.  The proportions make sense, and this I think, along with strong willpower will change the choices that we make when it comes to eating.  That is until your husband comes home with dinner for two in a SHOPPING BAG!

OK, I will admit that I have called Olive Garden a time or two for take out, and left with a shopping bag of food for FOUR people!  This time, when my husband called on his way home from work, and I told him that the girls ate the only remaining thing in the refrigerator/freezer (a frozen pizza, if you must know) I suggested that he may want to pick up something for us.

I quickly turned the TV to baseball, and waited for him to arrive.  Rubbing my hands with glee I wondered what he was going to get for us; Chipotle for a bowl of carne asada, Panera Bread for tomato soup and a turkey sierra sandwich, Portillo’s for an Italian Beef complete with cheese fries, Silver Lake for some pot stickers and fried rice?  I was starting to get hungry when the dogs sprang into action and raced to the garage door to welcome home their master.

In walks my husband with…a shopping bag from Wendy’s!!  Standing there in shock, my mouth hanging open I looked into his horrified eyes and silently pleaded “let this be a big mistake because I don’t think I can eat all of this!”.

Out came “I didn’t even know Wendy’s HAD a shopping bag!” trying not to snigger at him.  He said a few choice words, plopped down the bag and the two drinks and was like “I saw that bag coming out the drive thru window and wondered what the hell was going on!”.

The cat promptly jumped up on the table, sniffed around the bag on one side, went to the other side and just sat there staring at us.  “Yeah Boo Bear, a freaking shopping bag, get over it!”.  My husband dove his hand inside and kept coming out with bag after bag.

Every. Single. Item. Was. In. A. Separate. Bag!  Like a rabbit out of a hat he pulled out a bag of fries (for the dogs), a bag of chili (for the oldest daughter), a bag of chicken sandwiches (for us), a bag with a baked potato (for him) and a bag with french fries that had chili and cheese poured all over them (WTF?).  Some of the food we didn’t even order.

Taking survey of the haul, there was not ONE damn Frosty!  What?  He brings home a shopping bag of food and I don’t get my vanilla frosty?  Someone was going to pay, so I ran to get my phone in order to take a photo officially document this to use against him at a later date.

That would have been the end of it right there, but a few days later we were outside talking to some neighbors that we hadn’t seen since before the winter.  As we crossed the street on ou way home he burst out “wow, Jessie looks phenomenal!  How did she lose weight?”  In my mind I hit him over the head with shovel and buried him under the neighbors trampoline.

“She and the whole family cut back on portion size, started eating healthier, cut out sweets and desserts and Phil (the husband) gets up with her every morning and they exercise together.”  This said between gritted teeth because I have had this conversation with him before and suggested the very same things to him.

Of course this all went over his head because he never gets my subtle references to anything, “Good for her!” he said and turned on the TV to watch the Cubs loose yet another baseball game.  Last summer I was diagnosed with diabetes type 2 and started to eat healthier, looking up recipes in books and online to try to vary my diet of fiber, protein and carbohydrates.

I was able to lose 23 lbs and fit into clothes that hadn’t seen the light of day in a year or so.  Then I started to gain weight again so I bought a cool pair of shoes and tried to exercise (see my blog “finding your exercise groove…provided you have one” for the outcome of that!) but it was on again and off again.

A week after the “shopping bag” incident I had one of my six month check-ups and the doctor sat with me patiently and wrote out a plan for me to lose three pounds a month by dropping 300 calories each day.  I sat there focused on his face, eyes darting to his pen every once in a while trying to take it all in.

He started with ”diets don’t work, so don’t even use that term.”  I love this guy and have stuck with him for 23 years because he talks to me like I am in my first year in a rudimentary science class.  “Take out 300 calories from your day, it would be walking which burns of around 120 calories per mile and cutting back on your portion sizes…however you want to do it, just strive for the 300 per day”  He went on and we formed a plan for my new routine.

On the way home I called my husband who was awaiting the doctors instructions on how I could get this weight under control.  I started with “well I am healthy, my pancreas just has to work overtime but otherwise we aren’t adding any new medication to the mix…” and I went on to explain to him the portion size and exercise comments.

Silence.  Crickets were chirping here it was so quiet.  I looked at my phone to see if we got disconnected.  Nope, still there.  Nothing but silence.  Hello?

Finally, “how can I help you with this?” came the answer.  Are. You. Kidding. Me?  “I have been saying this for quiet a while, Mr. heap our plates to high that the food all has to touch each other and cross contaminate the different tastes” I shot back.

“You don’t have to eat everything on your plate, will power remember?  Oh, and I am always asking you if you want to go for a walk after dinner…” and this is where I snapped, said some things that I don’t regret, sent silent waves of fury down the phone and then hung up.  Yeah, we didn’t talk to each other that night.

Now comes Mother’s Day, and he asks me what I want for dinner, “let’s do steak, some baked potatoes and vegetables to celebrate the beginning of the summer”.  Off he goes to get the food.  Now people, this is only 4 days after my doctor’s appointment, and do you think he was listening to the results and Dr’s advise?

I cooked the baked potatoes, picking the small ones not the large feed a whole family during the potato famine size, and cut up the vegetables to be steamed on the grill.  We coordinated everything beautifully and then when I sat down at the table and saw that half my plate was a piece of steak I couldn’t stand it anymore.

Holding up my hand, palm up, I showed him what a real portion was.  Translating that to the side of cow that was on my plate I showed him that I had FOUR days worth of steak he expected me to eat. 

Needless to say the dogs were so very happy that it was Mother’s Day and were able to eat the balance of my meal, the girls meals and YES, my husbands meal as he was thoroughly chastised and guilty enough not to eat his whole piece!

After we cleaned up the table, he asked me if I would like to take a walk around the block, which we did with the little dog.  When I got home there was a oreo cookies and cream ice cream cake on the table waiting for me.  “Happy Mother’s Day” my girls shouted with eyes shinning! 

They had gotten me this wonderful cake in the shape of a purse, but weren’t able to convince the people at Baskin Robbins to make it plaid like my favorite Burberry ones, so I had to accept that it was the thought that counted.

After slicing up the cake for everyone, I went into the laundry room and banged my head against the door for a little bit.  Does anyone get it?!  

I composed myself and sat down at the table with my family to eat my lovely piece of ice cream cake thinking that portion size and healthy eating would have to start tomorrow at work!

The reluctant waterer…

Spring gardening makes me look forward to summer

I love gardening, it calms me down and gives me a reason to spend time outside no matter the weather.  When building the house that we are currently in I purchased books and poured over them day and night, flagging out the plants that I wanted to get.  Then the house was finished, we moved in and gardener girl lived happy ever after…not really.

Gardner girl found out how expensive plants were, and was mentally abusing husband for not allowing her to take plants from her old house and transplant them in a neighbor’s garden to keep them alive till they could be moved to the new home.

Husband of gardener found out how expensive hostas were when asked to purchase 4 for the new home, and complained about the thousands of dollars left back in Bartlett at the 21-year-old house; it made gardner girl proud that he finally listened to her even if it was a little to late.

Since we took possession of the new house in the end of January I had plenty of time to wait not only for the weather to change, but the sod to be laid down so I could rip it back up again and create my gardens.

The first year I didn’t do much as I was pregnant and wanted to do nothing but try to locate my feet so I could put shoes onto them, not bend down and rip out sod; so I planted a few hostas and called it a day.

The second year I came up with the seven-year plan; seven years of expanding and planting a garden that would come back each year and sustain itself.  I worked and worked and ripped out sod and grew my gardens making sure that I had plants that bloomed each month from April to September so there was always color.

Gardner girl felt strong and alive with mud under her nails and weird sunburned lines on her shoulders, husband of gardener girl groused and complained that she had something against grass, the green kind grown in the yards.  Gardner girl reminded hms it was that much less grass he had to mow.

On the eighth year gardener girl rested and finally got the Red Oak tree she had been bugging her husband to purchase for the past five  years.  Because they were a few years late on the growth of the tree, husband of gardener girl felt guilty and went and purchased a very large tree for $750, paid another $300 for them to deliver and plant it.

Lesson number two for gardener girls husband; don’t tune out your wife and wait for the dog to start digging a hole so big in the middle of the yard nothing but planting a tree would fill it in.

Now gardener girl is tired of dragging out the hose to water the plants because it is NOT raining like it should be, and by August the grass is golden and the plants are droopy, the ones in the pots are dead and silks from Hobby Lobby start to appear in the gardens and planters.

She curses as she drags the hose around the side of the house and down to the opposite side of the yard and then roll it back up again after watering is done.  Gardner girl wants a water boy to do this for her while she sits in her red Adirondack chair drinking a nice cold beer after a hard day at the office.

Here’s a little view of what she would look at while she chugs a nice cold Stella Artois or a Blue Moon.

Bleeding Hearts are the first to bloom

along comes the forget me nots and the Jacob’s ladders (not pictured here because I forgot to take their picture, so sad but I wont forget them next year)

Then come the hostas and after 11 years I have divided and divided and am back to owning thousands of dollars worth of plants from just the 4 that gardener girls husband purchased oh so long ago.

Gardner girl’s favorite hosta has the gold around the edges and they glow in the shade of the later afternoon, not to mention they are so big that you can use them as dinner plates!

The bloody cranes bill blooms right after the hostas start unfurling their leaves and it’s not even the middle of May yet. Don’t you just love these names?   Bloody…

Years ago I planted some violas in pots by the front door, no one told me they would seed themselves all over my mulch and in a few years become a carpet of purple and yellow during May and June. They get weedy and I pull them out and they come back again in July and August provided that water boy does his job correctly.

I discovered dead nettle in Bartlett but wasn’t allowed to transplant any, so I had to start from scratch. I have now donated this ground cover to many neighbors in need because it thrives in all conditions and is great under trees, tall bushes and fills in gaps on the side of the house when you are tired of looking at hostas.

Columbine is another spring flower that is so delicate its a joy to look at. This year the rabbits at all the leaves, but left the flowers for me. These have also seeded themselves and traveled around their home in the front garden, I even found one blooming next to the garage door on the opposite side of the yard.

St. Anthony, patron saint of gardener girls husband, watches over the dead nettle, columbine and the neighbors across the street. Too bad he can’t gossip. NOTE: gardener girl does not have her patron in the garden, St. Francis, and does not begrudge her husband St. Anthony – HOWEVER, at one point it better show up in one of the gardens before she is too old to enjoy it.

Calla Lilly, an annual here in zone 5b, but I couldn’t resist because they are so beautiful and filled in a nice little hole in the garden plant flow.

Delphinium, one of the newer additions to my garden, these are so stunningly beautiful I just stand and stare at them soaking in the color and discovering all the shades of blue hidden in their depths.

Beards tonge is my new favorite that satisfied my urge for the tall purple fountain grass that never bloomed. A very tall plant with purple foliage and you get these crazy delicate white flowers at the top, just fantastic!

And that my friends is a tour of the flowers that have bloomed in the gardens so far.  Stay tuned for part 2, when you can see what blooms in June and early July!

What to give for a graduation gift

Free at last!

Graduation.  The best week of your life starts with final exams and the last time you will empty out your locker.  There is usually a senior breakfast, practice for the ceremony and picking up your cap and gown.  When the big night finally comes, and your friends and relatives swarm you snapping photos of you and your friends clutching your “diploma”, the aftermath commences.

Graduation parties; much-anticipated among students who want to celebrate together and by parents who are so proud that their kids are done with high school and they can get their life back.  With family parties come presents.  So what do you get the high school graduate in 2012? 

When I graduated from high school back in the early 1980′s I was given a dictionary (not a surprise for the non spell check generation), a thesaurus (so I would look smart and not use the same words over and over) and a suitcase.  Yep, a suitcase.

To some people this would seem a little strange, but my parents weren’t trying to kick me out of the house, they were protecting their storehouse of luggage by sending me off to college with my own personal property.  The plan was to become world travelers, taking their luggage with them because they were free at last and all of their kids were out of the nest!!

When my best friends daughter graduated from high school in the early 2000′s she was given a lap top to take to college.  Hell, laptops weren’t even invented when I went to school, and very few people were taking computer classes.  But in retrospect it would have saved my parents the cost of a dictionary and thesaurus which sit in a place of pride on my bookshelf in the family room because I am hoping my kids can sell them off as antiques when I pass on. 

As an invitation arrived in the mail a week back I started to wonder, what would this high school graduate receive from her parents?  So I looked online to see what the top 10 graduation gifts were. 

• Money and gift cards topped the list, no surprise here. 
• The iPhone and a tv were not far behind; I thought these were strange gifts for kids who probably already have this stuff.
• Suitcase; YES!  There it was, my parents are still cool 29 years later!
• College Care Package; what a great idea!  If you are prepared and can order online this seems to be a great gift for the graduate going away to college, a statement that says I am proud of you and you get to party for another four years before you have to buckle down and become a responsible adult.

Money is great, gifts cards will keep, but the gift to remember is the one that you want to give even if it is luggage.  Why not make the best week of their life special and do a little research through their parents and their Facebook page before you buy the gift!

Crazy’s just bubbling away….

Home of the Free

I live in one of the most beautiful and diverse cities in the world, Chicago.  This weekend we hosted the NATO Summit, and a few protest demonstrations at the same time.  America is all about protecting the rights of its citizens, and one of those rights is the freedom of speech.  But one thing bothered me as I watched the protestors live this weekend was that I could see crazy just bubbling away in that crowd, and protesting and crazy are not a good mix.

The first sign that some of these people were not there to peacefully protest anything was the fact that they had their faces covered, were carrying brooms and sticks and were shouting profanity and insults to the police force.

Um, last time I went on a protest march we were in rural Georgia in the late 1980′s.  We didn’t cover our faces, grab sticks or bats or even shout insults to the crowds lining the route even though it would have been easy enough as they seemed to be a slightly illiterate lot that couldn’t even spell “cycle cell amena” correctly.  I could smell crazy cooking on their back burners but not on ours all through that march, yet we DID NOT ENGAGE with the crazies.

The marches in Chicago on Saturday seemed to be aimless.  From what I understand there were tons of out-of-town people wandering through the Loop with no idea where to go.  Shouldn’t someone have done a little homework, studied a street map, maybe gotten together for a common cause?  Isn’t that what a demonstration is all about?

Sunday everything was peaceful until the rally where the military veterans throwing away their war medals was over, and then it started to get rowdy.  This in itself is sad, here is an arm of the government that agrees with you about war and you have to disrespect them at the end of their time to make a statement?

Crazy was starting to smoke away on the back burner during the two-hour standoff, and then the red paint came out of the backpacks, let’s stir in a little hysteria for good measure!  Again, pick up a stick, bat or broom and you are preparing yourself for trouble.  Throw yourself on a moving van and expect to get hurt, then show it to the world on video.

What didn’t seem to be understood is that more is done through peaceful yet strong statements with a huge show of support by the protestors.  There is a common theme, there is a unified force and NO ONE COVERS UP THEIR FACE IF THEY WANT TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY.  Oh, and if the police say there were about 2,200 people in the mob, and you say there were around 15,000 in the mob; who do you think the television camera’s are going to believe, hmmm?

The final piece de-resistance is the fact that the last demonstration today took place outside of the Boeing headquarters downtown.  This was a call to action to shut down the “Boeing war machine.”  Hello, again a little bit of research would have been helpful.  There are over 70 plants world-wide, and the one here in Chicago is the office, not a plant that builds these “war machines”.

Lots of corporate offices asked employees to stay home today due to the travel times and the protestors.  Crazy people, working remotely is par for the course in 2012, you don’t need to be in your office to continue to do your job.  Hell, this is the home of the windy city where blizzards happen all the time, and work is done at the ball parks during the summer.  I don’t think anyone really thought that one through, but nice try.

When all is said and done, no one could blacken the name of our fair city.  If I was one of those police officers getting spit at and people in my face shouting profanity and insults, pushing and shoving at me and in general acting like they wanted to start a fight, I would have thrown down and shown them what crazy is really all about!

Top 10 stupid things we do…

Yesterday I was walking through the parking garage trying to escape my campus and avoid getting run over by all the Mario Andreotti wanna be’s who were speeding down the ramps wearing dark sunglasses, in a dark concrete garage none the less.

I was shaken out of my thoughts as I passed a woman pulling out of a parking space, a phone to her ear, a casual glance over her shoulder that lasted a second at the most and surely registered if anyone was in back of her and then I heard the screech and winced as I observed a mini van come within inches of her rear end.  She didn’t know what she just did, put her car in drive and went about her merry way.  I locked eyes with the mini van driver and we shared a common thought “did she even realize what she did?”  

STUPID MOMENT; reversing out of a parking space while talking on the phone.  I give it a 7 in the scale of 1 to 10.

In college I worked at a movie theater behind the refreshment counter.  I would shake my head when I got a request for extra butter on the popcorn.  Never mind that the sign said “butter flavoring” which translates to read “pure oil, maybe Crisco, could be canola, but is the same thing we cook the popcorn in with a hint of butter taste.  The customer would lean over the counter watching me squirt the “butter” on so that was saturated the popcorn.  Then they would ask me for a 32oz diet coke.

STUPID MOMENT; No amount of diet coke is going to lessen the cholesterol that you are going to ingest, it will not balance out in your system.  I give it an 8 on the scale of 1 to 10.  

At the doctor’s office years ago complaining of ear pain and a stuffed up head, I sat up on the exam table in misery waiting for the doctor to pull out her little viewfinder and exclaim that I had an ear infection.  As a rule I stay away from diagnosing myself on the internet and go with my instincts, which is usually to come up with some form of rare cancer; in this case a very rare ear cancer.  As the doctor looked in my right ear she said “well it looks clear from here” I responded “you can see out the other side?”  She took a step back, cocked her head and said “I don’t see anything in the right ear, let me look in the left.”  She made a note on the computer before looking in the left ear, and the note probably said, cut down on her meds because she is a little delusional.

STUPID MOMENT; No, you can’t look in one ear and see out the other, that is not the way it works even with air heads.  I would give that one a 9 on a scale of 1 to 10.

Tell me your stupid moment!  What was it and how would you rate it!

Adult bullies…why you gotta be so mean?

"why would anyone wait in the cold and rain to see a nobody...?"

Listening to my youngest daughter tell me, through her tears, how she was being treated by others at school broke my heart.  “They have broken me!” she sobbed as she dramatically raised her arms above her head and shook them.  “I tried to ignore it, the teachers told me it would stop if I did, but it didn’t and now I can’t take it any more!”

Trying not to burst into tears, and feeling the rage build in my heart, I held her close and rocked her back and forth.  She was only 10 years old, but this was something that she has been dealing with for the past couple of years.  Why, I often ask myself, do children find the need to pick on others who are different?  Does it scare them, make them nervous, make them jealous?

I guess I will never know the answer, but what I do know is that God made us all different for a reason, and like pieces of a puzzle we fit together in this world to create a larger image of Him.  When Taylor Swifts song “Mean” came out on her last CD, my daughter and I would ride around in the convertible singing it at the top of our lungs when she had a particularly bad day…reminding her that life is so much more and someday those bullies will be still taunting others, but she will be moving on.

Bullying is something, that as adults, we are focusing our energies on; trying to stop the cycle and teach our children that uniqueness is what makes the world go round, not conformity  That said, it wasn’t till I heard a teenager talking about adults that get bullied, and it started me thinking…why is it ok for adults to hate when it isn’t for our children?  Is there a double-edged sword, one behavior for kids and another for adults?  It seems so, and it’s called the paparazzi and celebrities.  And this is fueled by those of us who buy their papers and link to their websites online.

I admire anyone who stands up to bullies.  Celebrities have the influence to help generate the change we need for our kids, and many of them are coming out and letting us know that they were bullied as kids.  The Kardashian sisters and  Demi Lovato helped a family rebuild their home and their life when their son committed suicide due to the constant bullying by school mates.

Khloe Kardashian told his sister that she was bullied all through grade and hight school, constantly compared to her older sisters, notes left on her locker intending to make her feel small and worthless.  Last week, as part of my job, I worked on getting one of the stores that I work in ready for a visit by Khloe and Kim Kardashian.  It was a long week, adding to my stress was comments by many adults giving me their opinion of the sisters.

Haters love to spread their vitriol, wanting you to jump on their bandwagon disliking what they dislike.  I have my own opinions about people but don’t expect anyone else to jump on my bus; we all see people and interact with them in different ways and who is to say that my take on thier personality is the correct one?  What really got to me was how adamant people were about speaking their mind against the Kardashians, and they were sincerely trying to get me on their side as if it was an election and my vote was needed.  Their attitudes were starting to get on my last nerve.

To be honest, this was the second event that I was involved in with the sisters and have found them to be hard-working, gracious and very savvy business women.  The more I spend in their presence the more I become a fan; and I don’t watch their shows or read the tabloids even though everyone loves to tell me all about their lives.

Really?  Do these people really think they know these girls?  All they see is hours of film edited for tv to portray a specific point of view – that is called surrealism people!  Reality tv would be 24 hour, 7 day a week access with camera’s following you around so you can see every little thing that goes on.

Lest we get off on a  tangent, let’s remember that the definition of paparazzi is “a reporter or photographer that doggedly searches for a story that can be sensationalized” and the addendum should read (in my words) “for profit and gain in order to keep their job and receive notoriety and promotions for their own benefit.”

Right now you are probably saying to me, “but Amy, that’s the price of celebrity.”  The price of celebrity should be to give back to charity or to a cause that helps others overcome.  As fans we should not tolerate those who love to hate because this makes us nothing more than a bully at the adult level.

It was well said by one of the teenagers waiting in line overnight in the cold and rain.  “Anyone would go crazy with all the bad things said about them in the media. She (Kim) is like a teenager being bullied by the media and she maintains a positive outlook on things.  I admire her for being a strong person!”

"She told me my hair was pretty, I am still in shock that she noticed" I heard one girl tell her mom!

When we tell our children that it is not ok to pick on others who are different, but then do the same thing with our words toward others we are nothing more than an adult bully.  I am sure we all know the difference between opinions and forcing others to agree with us, not stopping till we have brow beaten them/.   Do our actions show our kids two different things?  Sure you can call it bullying, being brow beaten, lording it over others, having a domineering attitude or personality, being a tyrant or oppressing others thoughts and opinions; I could go on but I am sure you get my drift.

As adults we need to practice what we are trying so hard to teach our children; hating others because they are different is not good.  As adults judging others not to be celebrities because it doesn’t fit our idea of what a celebrity should be is the same as kids on the playground making fun of the ones that dress creatively.  We need to make sure that our words and actions follow the same rules whether we are discussing children, other adults or celebrities.

As Taylor Swift put it, “you, with your words like knives and swords and weapons that you use against me, you have knocked me off my feet again, got me feeling like I’m nothing.’”  While I have wept with my daughter as she tells me of her short life so far, I have never given a thought toward how I speak about those in the media.  But now my eyes are open thanks to this beautiful teenager who waited in the cold and rain, and it will make me a better and stronger person, hopefully as good as her role models.

Finding your exercise groove…provided you have one

Athletic shoes are an expression of your personality

I have struggled over the years to become an avid exercise fanatic, and let me tell you I just don’t have it in me.  I’ve tried it all, and enjoyed very little about most of it, but eventually settled into my own personal reality that exercise is something that is hard for me.  Like taking liquid penicillin when we were kids knowing it was going to taste horrible, we did it anyway because it made us healthy again; that is the attitude I have to try to cultivate toward exercising.

I’m not asking to be a fanatic, just someone who does some light exercising to keep my weight down and my health-o-meter in top shape.  I want to be someone who enjoys my aerobics, elliptical, weight lifting machines, lunges and is beaten to death by a trainer and then talk about how great it is in the hallways at work.

I really want to be someone who “gets it”, but I struggle with the get up and go part, the motivation which I am beginning to think is 95% genetic and 5% something else that I haven’t quite worked out yet.  Maybe they will do a study one day on people who are prone to exercise and find a gene that is missing from those of us who avoid it at all costs.

When I was in high school, gym class was unendurable when it came to track and field, a colossal failure when it was basketball, tennis or even frisbee.  I fared better in soccer, kick ball and floor/field hockey or flag football.  Although in some cases I would start hyperventilating in baseball, visions of a broken face would flash through my mind and I would instinctively duck, same for volleyball.

The only thing I excelled at was aerobics because it was close to dancing, but I was nick named chicken legs (no cankles on this girl) by the teacher and that was the end of that.

Now that I am trying to set a good example for my children, I have cycled through a few different start and stops to try to find something, anything that I could enjoy that was  in the exercise category besides typing on the computer (keeping the fingers nimble) or reading (keeping the vision sharp).

First I would need to purchase a pair of athletic shoes, oh by the way when did they change from gym shoes or tennis shoes to athletic?  I purchase a pair of this type of footwear about every eight to nine years or so and usually the inner cushioning eroded from time not from use.  I needed to look the part, but I am a canvas gym shoe lover of rocket dog, van, roxy and converse shoes in solid, floral, striped and color block patterns, but nothing with an actual tread on it.

Purchasing these athletic shoes was hard, I had to find a place that not only sold them but had a variety to pick from.  Finally finding out where to go I had a rough time trying them on, the rubber bottoms got stuck on carpet and I would trip just walking around to see if they were comfortable.

Let’s not mention how unattractive most of these wonderfully expensive shoes were.  Mostly white or ugly versions of blue it was hard to find a great color that didn’t reek of “girlie” pink or purple.  Finding the shoe that expressed my personality was hard, getting it to fit was harder, but eventually a great sales person and Nike won the day for me.

When it came to the clothing, that was easy, I would wear all black because it was a slimming color, and besides it would draw everyone’s eye to my great green/turquoise shoes and they wouldn’t notice all my lumps and bumps along the way.  Throw in a longer jacket with those wonderful holes at the end of the sleeves that you pull your thumbs through and I was going to rock this fitness thing no problem.

I joined the health club at work, bonus it was on campus so I just changed in the bathroom and went on down to work out after I was done for the day.  I wasn’t comfortable exercising by myself with all the skinny people who I knew around me, in fact I wasn’t comfortable letting them see how much weight I was struggling to take off.

I started going late to the health club so that most people were gone and they wouldn’t be able to observe me.  During this point in time I found out a few things; I was bored quickly on the treadmill, the tv’s didn’t have anything interesting on during the timeframe I was there and above all when I did see someone I was comfortable around it was hard to talk and exercise at the same time.

The treadmill was my downfall and I kept getting thrown off the back of it, quiet by surprise I would place one foot on the stable part and one on the moving belt and away I would go.  I never really got the hang of it.  I enjoyed the eliptical, but I was bouncing around so much that  I couldn’t focus on the book in front of me, trying to locate the line of type that I was trying to read.

Remembering that I liked aerobics I decided to try a class (no way I was even going to do all that Yoga stretching stuff, I couldn’t even bend down to tie my shoes) and joined the one class that the VP of my department, a fitness fanatic, was a part of.  Talk about unlucky, I started to get a bad feeling so I snuck into the back row hoping that no one would recognize me.  Do you know how crazy people are if you take their spot?  Are we still in high school or what?

Well, after popping around from spot to spot I finally found one toward the back, which was all fine and good until we started moving around and the back of the class became the front of the class and everyone could see me going left when they went right or turning the wrong way and seeing everyone in class looking at me when I should have been looking out the back windows instead; a living nightmare I was in tears by the time the class was over.

The “fitness at work” thing was not really my cup of tea, this was based on the fact that I was starving when I was done so I would run through the McDonald’s drive through telling myself that because my metabolism was at its peak up to forty-five minutes after all of this exercise, it was like not even eating it at all, and would just burn off.  Right.

OK, I decided to try jogging, at home.  I got my cool shoes on and my new outfit and snapped the leash on the dog starting out the front door with a great attitude.  I loved being outside so maybe this sport was the one for me, after all the neighbors across the street jogged with their dogs so how hard could it be?

Unfortunately it was the weekend, the family decided to go with me, and the dog in question was 120 lbs and didn’t quite get the meaning of ”jog”.  He took off like a shot and it was all I could do to keep on my feet, flying down the street after him on my tip toes I am not really sure that I even touched the ground at every step.

Eventually I got his rhythm and pulled him to a stop which took a lot of strength and almost wore me out.  Turning around I walked him back home and put him inside while my family fell out all over the front lawn replaying my adventure step by step amid shrieks of laughter.  Thanks for the support.

A few days later my oldest daughter decided that she would jog with me as she was in a running club after school.  We walked the few blocks to the path that ran around our lake and then I started jogging, at least I thought I was jogging.  Huffing and puffing, I struggled step by step to lift one leg and put it down in front of me pushing myself forward, making it to the bridge which was about two block from where I started.

Standing there, hands on knees, hunched over and wondering if I was going to throw up I decided right then and there that the only reason I would ever run would be for my life, end of story.  My daughter finally noticed that I wasn’t behind her, doubled around and jogged back to me and had the audacity to not even be out of breath.  The little brat; she asked me if I was ok and then informed me she was worried that I would trip myself because it didn’t look like I was even getting my feet off the ground.

When I got my breath back, I told her never to speak of this ever again and turned around walking briskly back home; a failure that at least no one in the immediate neighborhood was able to observe.

Walking was my next choice, so again I put on the groovy shoes but this time shorts and a fashionable top because let’s face it I didn’t need to look like I was working out if I was just walking now did I?  The family came along, and we set out for the park and the lake.

Soon my husband and daughters were far head of me because I was struggling to keep the beast in line as he dragged me here and there anxious to sniff and pee on anything that caught his interest.  It was a great weekend where everyone was out fishing, enjoying the lake and walking their own dogs.  All was well until I got distracted by a cute little girl who caught her first fish, and that’s when it happened.

I heard a little yippe bark, my head whipped around but before I could brace myself the beast lunged and took off after the white bit of fluff that had just yipped at him.  I was flying through the air and screaming in my head “no, no, ohhhh this is going to HURT..oww..yow…agghhhHHHHHHHH!!!!!”  By the time I came to a stop, and the leash was yanked from my hand, I was a good twenty feet from where I started, face down on the asphalt path with road rash up my arms and a torn open knee.

People swarmed me asking me if I was ok and telling me not to get up yet.  As I lay there amid the screams and shouts of others trying to dodge out-of-the-way of the beast who was running amok among the people by the lake, I wondered if my family even knew what had just happened to me.  I spotted my beast streaking across the bridge and circling around my family; my husband turned around surprised to see the dog, then I saw him looking for me.

As I got to my feet, helped up by strangers which I might add is pretty humiliating, my family came back to find out why I was on the ground and the dog was running free.  Taking one look at my condition my husband turned me around and helped me limp back home. 

I was sniffling, moaning and acting like I was going to dye as he just shook his head and wanted to know what happened.  With damaged pride I insisted on stopping at the neighbor’s house, the one that was a nurse, to make sure that I didn’t need to go to the hospital.

My next attempt, once I was healed and able to move around like a normal human being again, was to take the small dog out WITH OUT the family tow.  I mean, after all I was not a very good role model at this point, I just needed to find my groove by myself.

Again, in my cool Nike’s and this time in my black athletic clothes because I meant business, I set out at a quick pace dragging the little dog behind me.  I ended up dodging this little beastie who wove from let to right in front of me.  I had to drag him away from every bush, rock and fire hydrant.  I am nost sure why he needed to stop and mark everything but by the fifth stop he had NOTHING left, nothing at all! 

Finally we came to the lake and rounded the corner, and I hit my stride while he ran through the edge of the grasslands hoping to find a rabbit or other animal; I was able to really work up to my potential now that he settled down.

OK, I was creeped out by all the people who I passed, anxious that I wasn’t going to get ambushed and killed, but by the time I had come back to where I started and turned the corner for home my pace had slackened and my legs hurt a little, but I felt good!

I did it, I found my exercise the one that I enjoyed; now I just had to leave work early enough to go walking when it was still light out and before I made dinner.  After dinner was no good because everyone came out of their homes and gossiped with each other on the driveways and sidewalks and I wasn’t going to miss a minute of that just for exercise.  Oh, and I needed to get over the fact that ever person I passed was not a serial killer that had tracked me and was waiting to make me their next victim.

Spring Break Rocked!

The original Water Tower survived the great Chicago fire

I grew up outside of Chicago and was always going downtown on field trips to the Art Institute, Museum of Science and Industry, Field Museum of Natural History, John G Shedd Aquarium, Oriental Institute and in high school we went down to Vogue Fabrics in Water Tower Place (a shopping mall).  So when I found out my best friend, her daughter and her granddaughter were going to the American Girl Store, I invited the girls and myself along and do a little documentary while I was down there.

When I was a kid I use to make up stories about the people waiting for the train, stories that made their careers more exciting and their destinations more exotic, it's a much different experience waiting for the train now...everyone is busy on their phones.

If the passengers weren't on their lap top, texting or reading a book they stared out the window for an hour...a long time to think about life and all that goes with it.

Even though the experience is different from when I was young, the train still gives everyone an eerie green cast...at last we passed outbound trains and were close to pulling into the station.

After the personal shopper helped everyone out, we were led into a private lounge to check out...I was like a kid myself and longed to get a doll to play with.

On our way down Michigan Avenue we passed the Water Tower, as I turned to take a photo of the landmark I was excited to see the old merge with the new, its wonderful to see them sit side by side keeping the history alive.

My best friend was embarrassed that I was taking photos of the city, but she didn't see what I saw and no matter where I pointed my lens "we're not tourists" she cried letting everyone know we were natives. If she had never said anything in the first place I would have been able to blend...

The windows, the artistry and the emotion they evoke is something you just can't get unless you're in the city...what looks fake in the 'burbs comes alive.

The new and the old merge together bringing back memories of my grandmom whose courage and fortitude created the family that we are today.

At each and every step the windows were deliciously inventive...we hailed a cab one block too early and I missed the Burberry windows much to the joy of my husband.

Attention to detail by the city makes it hard to realize that it is only the end of March and all this beautiful color surrounds us, any other year and it could be grey and black snow.

Taking a break for lunch we checked our watches and made sure we would have enough time to enjoy ourselves before we needed to be back at our separate train stations.

As we hugged goodbye and hailed our taxis, racing across the river and along upper Wacker passing all the comfortable landmarks that I remembered from my youth, and a few that I don't remember, I started planning another documentary, this time instead of the Magnificent Mile, we would start at the Art Institute and work our way toward Millenium Park and the bean.

Spring break has come and gone again much to the sorrow of many kids that will be returning to the school yards and halls for their final quarter of the year.  Spring break has become synonymous with fun, sun and getting away…but only to return to reality one short week later.

Personally I like summer break better, there are almost ten long weeks of sun, plenty of time to play and get bored enough to want to get back to school so you can see your friends; and many opportunities for mom to take out her camera.

The crazy things we say to each other

Driving into work today I heard my radio station talking about the “10 Things Never To Say To A Working Woman!”  It’s a good thing that there was little traffic on the road this morning or I would have rear ended someone for sure as they worked their way through the list.

Being a mild-mannered individual (or at least trying – see my blog titled “I need to be a little more…Swedish in 2012″ for details) I was feeling my crazy start to surface along with a visual head slap or two to those freaks who have made similar comments to me when I was a new mother.  Each family is a living breathing unique and individual entity; so for people to judge a family (or in this case a mother) for their decision is just too much for my calm and rational demeanor to accept.

Immediately my mind started working on rebuttals, as if I was on trail which in some ways, as a working mom, you feel like you have to defend your decision, your position.  Eventually as you wrestle with these concepts, along comes the day that you realize your family and yourself are the only individuals that you have to answer to and you can relax about the whole situation.  So here are the remarkably stupid questions and my straight forward answers.

Question #10 “I wish I were as laid-back as you and could just let the housework go.”  Are you kidding me?  Seriously, that is what someone thinks?  Well, maybe my house looks like this because I am not pretending to be Mrs. Perfect, besides if it doesn’t bother my husband or kids that I have no time to do laundry why would it bother me?  After all they have such extended wardrobes that I bet my kids are better dressed than your kids and in the latest fashions, and my husband has enough work shirts, socks and underwear to keep him for a month if I have to travel.

There will be no kids running around in sweat pants for this mother.  Oh, sorry my bad, is that what you put your children in while you all enjoy a great day at home?  My kids enjoy a day dressed to kill at daycare painting, playing in the sand, exploring with water and food coloring.  At one point a daycare worker told me that my youngest was dressed “too nice” and did I understand that they “get dirty” in the class?  “Yeah”, I responded, ”that why I invest in Shout, get over it.”  No one tells me how to dress my kids but my kids.

If you have a problem with dust, don’t step into my sitting or dining rooms because we don’t.  Why would I keep those rooms spotless when most of the time we enter and exit through the garage at the back of the house and I tend to forget about those rooms as we get upstairs from the family room, not the front hall.  If it bothers you, don’t visit.

Question #9 “You must feel so guilty.”  Sorry, didn’t catch that can you say it again?  Guilty, about what?  That both my husband and I share the bills and we have extra money to go on vacations, not staycations (which suck…see my blog “Staycations SUCK!” for a full explanation) and we even go to movies and out to eat to celebrate the fact that we are not shackled to a perfectly spotless house.

Or did you possibly mean guilty that I am not around my children 24/7, which if you understand anything at all would make me a raving lunatic and there would be no amount of happy pills to keep this person in society without a medic alert bracelet as a permanent part of my jewelry collection.

Maybe you infer that I should be guilty that my children are learning to be social, trying out various foods, following rules, adhering to a strict schedule, making presents for mommy and daddy during the day and have an extremely diverse selection of friends.  We went to more birthday parties before the girls started grade school than I attended my whole entire life, and get this ALL THE KIDS IN CLASS WERE INVITED!  Imagine that, no one was left out selectively.

It is possible that you mean guilty because instead of having a summer home on the lake I paid a second mortgage to the day care, but let me point out that I wouldn’t have a summer home on the lake if I stayed at home and didn’t work.

Guilty because we don’t pay for gymnastics, dance or art classes and I never have to meet friends at the local mall to have give them a playdate in the germ infested playlands just to provide us something to do during the day.  The girls are healthy and never had a lice infestation scare until they hit the local grade school.

Question #8 “I hated my mom because she was never home after school like everyone else’s mom.”  YOU HAVE ISSUES, and need to see a therapist.  My mom wasn’t home after school because she was working and I was/am damn proud of her.

Question #7 “I could never let someone else raise my children, but that is just me.”  I agree, someone else shouldn’t raise your children, and the day care didn’t, nor did after school either.  I let them know my parenting skills, my husbands parenting skills and we talked extensively every day they were dropped off and picked up.

Careful, with an attitude like that you need to be worried that the teachers in school are having a hand in raising your children, I’m sure their rules may differ from yours.  After all your kids do no wrong, right?

Question #6 – made me crazy so I didn’t want to deal with it.

Question #5 “I just love my kids too much to leave them during the day.”  Seems like classic dependency issues, maybe a little OCD thrown in.  I never define myself by my children.  Yes I am Marie and Rose’s mom, but I am also an independent woman and a little time away from the kids is good for me and probably better for them.  You know absence does make the heart grow fonder.

Question #4 - We never had a nanny because I could never let someone else raise my children, just saying….

Question #3 “I’m surprised you went back to work.  Your husband seems so successful.”  OK, mom if you are reading can you skip the next few lines please?  This woman needs to be bitch slapped, and hard!  What is that all about?  People work for various reasons, but maybe it was a choice because this mom enjoys working and doing something besides wiping poopy butts, making play dates and talking small talk with children.

Maybe women can “be somebody” in the work place, and there are many women in my corporation that are “more successful than their husband”, so girl you better back on the yellow brick road before I set the wicked witch on you.

My mom raised six children, went back to college and started a career when the last one was in grade school.  Everyone loves her, including her children who all believe she walks on water and get this, she NEVER has a bad word to say about anyone, unlike these people who made these ten comments. 

Questions #2 “I suppose it’s smart that you’re working.  You know, in case  your husband leaves you some day.”   Stunned that someone would be so crass to say this, oh and that would be the end of our friendship.  Hasta La Vista Bitch!

Question #1 “It must be hard missing all those special moments every day.”  My reaction was to laugh because you see those special moments aren’t special if mommy or daddy are not there to see them.  They just didn’t happen for us, so we didn’t miss anything.  When they took their first step in front of us, it was their first step, period end of story.

When they were first potty trained, I didn’t have to see it, but we celebrated it, and no it wasn’t hard missing that moment because I am a sympathetic pottier and I would have been shoving them out-of-the-way to get to the toilet before mommy had an accident.

When they first rolled over, snapped their fingers, made spit bubbles, cut a tooth, learned how to tie a shoe, how to climb a ladder on the playground and how to draw a picture with sidewalk chalk it was great, and I got to see it all because it was always the first time for me.

I also got to share in those special moments where the girls were taken to the hospital for a dislocated elbow (nursemaids elbow), broken finger, head trauma (severe ear infection that caused her to throw up and have no balance) which involved a kiddie CAT scan and general cuts, scrapes and swollen eyes.  So glad that I didn’t miss those special moments because they so needed a mom, but then again what mom wouldn’t drop everything and sprint for her car?

So the moral of the story is to keep your mouth shut and don’t judge anyone and their family decisions.  You are not perfect, your family is not perfect and the more you sweep under the rug and ignore the more that will come back to bite you in the future.  We are all doing our best, let us just do it our way or I may call DCFS on your ass.

You’re only as old as you feel…no, look…no, are!

Haven’t you been hearing your whole life “you are only as old as you feel!”?  Well I was feeling pretty good till I straddled each side of thirty-five when I had both my girls.  I was still feeling exceptionally well and blessed that I made it out of the terrible two’s, three’s and through grammar school.  I was feeling so good that I would chuckle at the idea that I was aging, that was until WHAM!, I hit the wrong side of forty-five and it all went downhill from there.

I “feel” very much like a teenager, well lets say young twenty something as that is a little more believable, ON THE INSIDE PEOPLE.  I know all the new tunes, the hot new stars, am in touch with the latest styles and trends; you  know the important stuff in life.  But somewhere deep down inside I feel the creep of age coming along.

The feeling is not so apparent that one day I woke up, slapped my forehead and said “yeh, gods!!  I am a forty something trapped in a twenty something body”, no – never like that.   What happened was the random creep of thoughts that popped into my subconsciousness that would cause me to say “yeh, gosh!! What IS she wearing, it makes her look like a circus clown”, and then the realization hits me – I am starting to sound like an OLDer person!!

Don’t get me wrong, I have always judged others on how they dress, so those thoughts were nothing new.  If you wanted to look like a clown, then well, you looked like a clown and there is nothing that anyone can do about it unless they decide to hold an intervention and let you know that looking like a clown is wrong unless you work for Barnum and Bailey Circus.

No, it was the way in which the thoughts jumped to mind, it was the tone of the voice used in those thoughts.  It married with the tone I use when describing the “sixteen year old cashier…” when I tell my frightening retail horror stories at work.  Of course because of my age, everyone that is between the ages of 18 and 24 is termed “sixteen” by  me.  MAKE IT STOP!  It’s happening again, that old voice in my brain coming alive and changing my outlook on life.  Sob, I am so ooollldd!!!

So when people tell you that you are only as old as you feel, is it feel as in your psyche or in actual feel like physically, as in “I feel bloated and lumpy today”?  Because if I was to go on how I physically felt, well there it is, the wrong side of forty-five and it is a slippery slop my friend, a slippery slope indeed.

I am not sure if this “old” feeling is based on the fact that I have hit the proverbial strength “wall” or just something that happens to all people when they succumb and realize that trying to show  your kids how to do a perfect cartwheel when in your forties is not really a good choice to make.

I raised my kids in my thirties, had no problem picking them up, holding them for hours.  I moved furniture all over the house from downstairs to upstairs and from room to room because the fung shu was off.  I got on the tallest ladder we have and power washed our house for goodness sake, a feat that is still talked in awed tones by the men in our neighborhood when we all get together and start drinking.

I spent my thirties flying around the country merchandising stores for days on end from 8 am to 8 pm, going to bed and doing it all over again and the only thing that hurt was muscles.  I moved tables full of product, climbed ladders and set heavy shelves on walls, hauled armloads of clothes from the stockroom because there were no empty rolling racks or flat beds to use.  I would get in the backrooms and throw mountains of freight boxes around, digging for the merchandise that was brand new and needed.  I even put together fixtures that were made from pure MDF and steel as if I was the maintenance crew or the quality control team.  The best part of the job was moving 12′ tall ”floating walls” around until they were in the right position, I got so many hateful glares for those changes, but hey that’s all in a days work.

I recently spent two days working in our lab store, 9 hours a day in the same 1000 square foot area, two days in a row.  At the end of the first day I was practically crying with relief by the time I got to my car and I had my expensive european comfort shoes on.  The Europeans put style into comfort and darned if I am going to look like a crepe soled old lady, I mean I am willing to suffer for fashion, but nowhere did I sign up for humiliation!

During the forty-five minute ride home I was so excited that I was sitting down I almost called my husband to tell him how perfectly the leather bucket seats hugged my body, excited that these same heated seats could also double as a heating pad for my aching back, bonus!!  By the time I pulled into the garage I wanted to just fall out of the car but my body was locked up tighter than Fort Knox so it took me a while to maneuver my legs around and swivel my body sideways to face the open door.

If anyone was looking out their front windows that night they would have seen a bent in half old woman dressed in solid black, barefoot and dragging a laptop case  (it weights 100 lbs) behind her on the driveway because lets face it she couldn’t make the turn around the back-end of the car and needed the space that the empty driveway gave her maneuverability.

Once the crazy crippled old lady had rounded the back of the car, wandered out into the driveway, changed course and wove her way through the center of the garage they would have seen her stop at the three stairs that would bring her into the house and whimper as she used the handrail to pull herself up each step, roughly five minutes later making her way into the house.

What they didn’t see was me dropping all my stuff on the floor of the mud room, stumble through the house and tell the kids I was going to die so leave me alone, but bring me dinner in a little bit , but let me sleep the rest of the night because the evil people who I worked for expected me to do this all over again.

What is happening?  I use to chase my kids all over the lawn, doing somersault races, spinning around while they held on to my waist as they flew straight out until we all go dizzy.  Last summer I tore my calf muscle racing my twelve-year-old from the neighbor’s house three doors down.  Of course she won and I crawled my way to our front lawn.  Inside the house watching TV this child of mine had no idea that her mother was laying prostrate on the front lawn sobbing and clutching her calf.

So it was during that episode that I decided to hold to the mantra “you are only as old as you look”, which was great until I got a new mirror and took a really good look into it and UGH, even I was scared.  My tan had faded and the past two years of driving around in a convertible was starting to take its toll on my face.  Soon I would be seeing wrinkles that would make the nearest plastic surgeon rub his/her hands together and crow.

I called my sister Rose in a panic because she is a certified esthetician and haltingly told her my issues.  After all if you deny the age issues to yourself it is easier to deny reality.  Being forced to speak of aging issues outloud makes them real, and sad and the psychological after effects last for days, give me a gallon of chunky monkey, PLEASE.

After she got done laughing so hard her abs were toned for the week, she told me that I needed to remember that my skin is that of a fourty something, not a twenty something so why am I using Neutrogena when I should be using Oil of Ole?  Hello!!  Your only as old as you feel?  Yeah right, as you look.

I ran to the closest department store and stocked up  on everything that had the “anti” word in it.  There is stuff that plumps up your skin, stuff that evens the skin tone, stuff that hides the bags and stuff to put on at night as if the stuff you put on during the day wasn’t enough.  It wasn’t just my face that was starting to show the wear and tear.

My arms and legs were getting dry and the pores were starting to look old, well at least I didn’t have the baggy arm muscles that swayed back and forth to the music when I moved, a crepy neck or a chest that looked like an orange peel with wrinkle between my girls, oh shhh you know what I mean!.  No, I didn’t have wrinkles but I had the next worst thing, the chin that has gone from firm to saggy!!  Do I have to tie a band around my chin and over the top of my head like they did in the 1940′s so it remembers that it is supposed to be closer to my mouth than to my collar bones?

As the realization was sinking in the worst thing possible happened to me!  I forgot my age!  Yes, you heard right.  I.  Forgot.  My.  Age.  I turned forty-six and spent the first half of that year telling everyone I was forty-seven.  How could this happen?  I know that I am no math wiz, but hell my own age and to have my husband be the one to point it out?  Utter and total memory failure.

Today as I headed to work I was feeling old and ugly, and then I opened my e-mail.  Waiting for me was one little message, actually a visual message and it was the most wonderful gift that anyone could have given me.  It was from a friend of mine who has been having crazy animal picture wars with me, you  find a crazy looking monkey with huge eyes the caption “maybe I should cut back on the Starbucks”, that type of thing.

Today he decided to send me pictures from the people of Wal-mart website, which always has the ability to throw me into hysterics so bad that my laugh becomes silent and I have to bold for the bathroom passing unsuspecting associates who think that I am having a seizure.

This piece de resistance had three photos of women who were, well let’s just say that I find it hard to believe that anyone in their entourage, wether family or friends, would not stage an intervention for them.  I was so tickled at these photos that I went to Google to look up the some ugly pets photos to send back, and as I typed “ugly pe…” up popped a category called “ugly people”.

OMG, there is actually a category on Google called Ugly People?  As long as my photo never shows up on that site, or on the people of Wal-mart site (which would be impossible because I can’t bein to tell you how much I detest Wal-Mart) I am golden.  I am only as old as I feel, uhm I mean look, ugh…ok, ok I am only as old as I am!  But, I still got it going on!!