The Poop

I gotta get a life.  I'm working, again, today.  Just learned one of my clients went to the ER last night. Anyway......I went to look at my emails and I spent almost 45 minutes deleting the junk mail.  My sister messages get all lost and tangled in the INTERWEB of pet meds and weight loss remedies, Lands End promotions and floral arrangements.  I have never purchased anything on the Internet except some doggie poop bags under the name of the home owners association.  Why do I get this stuff? I even get some weird HR magazines and newsletters from a floor suppliers. So pleased to find tucked among the clutter are these beautiful gems like Sponge Bob Divas at wallyworld, historical remembrance of booze, cigars, dogs and chicken coops.  Never a dull moment in my cyber-world. It's my 3D life which requires prescription lenses that needs a little focus. Tried to exchange my boob in like big sister did for a lighter and appropriate sized one. No go.  Got blocked by the lady who sold me that darn camisole...remember that?  I'm going commando again.  Ohhhh the humanity! My staff will just have to get used to it.

Happy Birthday Sara!!  Love you.  Have fun on the cruise, you lucky dog! Stay away from th rail.

Picking up good vibrations

Had one of those days, yesterday. Not what you think. Super good Vibes. Seems like the planets were all aligned and the chaos simmered downed. Walked into a JCPenney's. I wasn't immediately insulted, arrested or harassed in any way. Tom found three pair of slacks and four shirts in what was left of their Big and Tall department (size of a porta-potty (the department, not the pants....:)). Then went to a gold and silver vendor to purchase a gift for Bailey. Not only did we score by finding the item we wanted we got a great deal. Followed up the weekly errands at The grocery store ... Yep, prime parking spot. Couldn't get better. Tom bought a lottery ticket. Well, the good news is, he only spent a dollar. Home again and the women's Volley ball team was looking good. Michael, not so much, but in the finals (I think). I 'm afraid I fell asleep during the opening ceremonies the night before - must have been all the sheep. Finished the evening on the deck listening to music when the cat threw up. Okay, the chaos returns. But the vibe was lovey while it lasted.

P.S.  Don't look at the word GOOD too long.  It just looks funny. It's not right, especially in caps.

Loose Meat in the Food Court:

Recently my other half had to resort to walking in the local Mall to get away from the heat. There he was, loose meat in the food court. Ladies in pink, sparkled hats and joggers exercising their lattes and new balance footwear raise eyebrows in curiosity. His rambling gate unmatched and unseen until now prompted others to follow his path with their eyes. The lyrics "everyone is talking 'bout a new way of walking" comes to mind.  More curious is the hat wear and suspenders. A renegade, sporting hiking shoes and purposeful expression.  The dyed permed Mall Walkers do not know what to think of this oddity. The ladies get excited. Maybe he's fishing for something. .  . . . or someone.  They dump their paper cups and adjust fanny packs to maximize exposure of hard earned waistlines and buxom silhouettes. With a quick glance and knowing signal the ladies pair up and walk.  Even at their best they could not match his stride and fell back too far to get a closer look.  It was speculated that he was there only to walk. And walk he did. Cruising by window displays of Victoria's secret, bypassing the food court without even the slightest interest in the packs of super seniors plotting their daily activities he exudes the confidence of a practiced athlete. 

Like a good old plate of hamburger gravy and white bread this loose meat conjured memories of days past where young girls whispered and held hands while the football team stood on the sidelines glancing over their shoulders hoping to make eye contact and generate a spark. 

Is someone out there?

My stats tell me you are looking. Send me a message if you want

This is my final post. Being what it is, I need to let all of you know how important you are to me. I don't know when I became the person I am or why I have been the person I was. I feel I need to explain myself knowing I have failed to be the best person I can be, and more importantly I have failed to be the sister, daughter and mother I wish I was. But YOU, dear sisters, have been so generous allowing my indulgent, self serving and selfish rantings and have even encouraged me. It was healing. What have I learned?  Where I have been lacking you filled my void. As one eighth of the whole I hope to correct my inadequacy. In other words, I wish I were more like you. You are amazing and wonderful.  I'm lazy and distracted. So I close this blog and declare it history.  My future will be less me, and more you. I can't wait to get started.  

Nobody knows me like my sisters. Thank Goddess. 

Saw Dr. Dallas yesterday. She noticed my weight loss and commented on how good the scar tissue and puffy look and feel. Good news all around. Says I'm doing great. Lots of giggles and I half expected a pat on the rump as I exited the building. Instead in a grand gesture I raised my arms over my head as the automatic sliding doors opened giving the illusion that it was me parting the glass curtain. The bakery lady was impressed and gave me a big smile and a nod. She must see all types exiting those doors. She has a small bakery cart just outside the main lobby of oncology. Serving coffees and pastries to family and patients enduring the waiting. The emotion she must experience with each opening of those glass doors must be heart wrenching. The elderly couple holding each other up as they walk stooped shouldered past the baked goods...heads down, feet shuffling; the tween bravely sporting a flowered headband on a near bald head holding her mothers arm and whispering "it's going to be okay"; the wigged and jeweled power lady holding her head high exposing only the slightest fear in her firm jaw. What a parade that must be. All this flashes in my mind as I move past the cart to the next set of magical doors. I paused and waited. "Taa Daa". I grin and the doors open and I breath in the cool air. I look over my shoulder and, yep, she is grinning."Good" I think to myself. There is magic in these doors.

150.4. Whoo hoo! So my new goal is 145. Gonna get there. Why? My chest and arm feel so much better. The little weight loss has made a real difference. My tuck and roll is a minor annoyance. Summertime poses some new challenges. I'm surprised with the current fashion choices. Everything is scoop neck, and thanks to Michelle, sleeveless. I'd like to wear a sundress.....hummmm how about a toga? Yeah, that's the ticket! Gold sandals ..my hair does look a little Ceasar-esque. Why not a sleeveless sundress? Oh, believe me nobody wants to see what I got going on there, and when I bend over (yeah I can still do that) ... Well I don't want to put an innocent bystander in that "look away" moment and wish they hadn't seen THAT. Too much information. Where do baby corn come from? I saw some ugly at the market. Why is visable panty line unacceptable but it's okay for me to see the butt floss on my local retail clerk' the girl that touches my turnips? And why do the ladies think a little tramp stamp is something the rest of us want to see? I don't get it. So I'm self conscience about my flabby underarm back boob... Maybe I need a tattoo.

What a beautiful day.  We're having a false Spring/Summer weekend.  Everyone is out and about working in their yards. Power equipment buzzing at all hours of the day, local landscapers catching up with unattended yard debris, smell of fresh mowed lawns.  Last night we celebrated the rebirth of a downtown treasure. The local NPR station purchased an old derelict theater and last night was the lighting of the sign.  It is HUGE.  Our Urban renewal dollars appropriately assigned to make downtown Medford a destination.  Tom and I made a date of it.  We ate at the local Sushi restaurant (only 12 points - and we ate like pigs), then walked down the block and joined the gathering locals to witness the lighting.  Both of us hitching up our pants celebrating our own accomplishments, the slow and steady weight loss.  I haven't met my goal of 150 Lbs. but this old relic can boast 151.5.

MJ I!m not

Good morning. I gained a pound this week, but I'm not discouraged. I'm on a one and a half day fast. This morning I start my preparation for my first colonoscopy. Well really the preparation began a week ago. I was enrolled in an education session with Dr.I'mSoSmart. This guy is going to navigate cyber optics into my deepest self. I don't like him as a person, he is operating a drilling factory. I enter the factory floor and find myself taking a number and handed a clipboard. One by one the room full of subjects are escorted behind the curtain for vitals and signatures. My name was called (vaaada) and dutifully I step into the curtained space to have my blood pressure and temperature taken. List of medications in hand I willingly sign at the "X". I'm then directed to a small meeting room where Dr. stands in baggy pants and tussled hair in front of a whiteboard blocking the projected image of the golden gate bridge (??). Are we going on a trip? Well, sort of. After all is said and done this guy is telling me that his nurse (not one of those pessty anesthesiologist ) is going to inject us all with the Michael Jackson drug, propaphol. WHAT? This education session is really a C.Y.A .session..his, not ours. We are giving our consent to be given this scary drug that really isn't scary. We are given dates, statistics, and subjected to a photo journal of all the conferences where this guy spoke on the subject.....it was weird. I came home with detailed instruction to fast and purge.

So here I am. My last meal until tomorrow evening. 3 scrambled eggs and a cup of black coffee. I will make my cocktail of polyethylene glycol and gatorade or chicken broth and repeat every 45 minutes. No shopping today, no yard work, just staying close to the thrown. If this doesn't flatten my belly, just a little, nothing will. Yep, I'm 153 lbs. today ...bulked up for the fast. Going to keep myself busy today, keep my mind off food. Honestly? I know this is routine, but so is a mammogram. MJ, I'm not but Dr.I'mSoSmart will see I have the Thriller Experience.

Love you all!  :)

I totally spaced on this one.

Oh yeah, baby...153.2 Lbs.   

Me- 8 lbs. 

Tom- 16 lbs. 

 added bonus, excellent BP.   

Anticipation

I have reached the point in my diet where I ask myself ...."self, is this it?" I worry that I have reached that point where no matter what I do I can't lose.  I've been weighing in  around 150-160 for 15 years. I go up, I go down. Recently the UP has been bringing me down.  Hence the diet.  It's not so much the total weight, but the total shape of it all.  My goodness.  What a BOD!!!  They don't make clothes for this.  Short legs. Thunder thighs. Wide middle. No chest (1/2 a chest). Balloon upper arms. Let's not even mention the, ahh  buttock (lost all that cuteness).   So I plug away, watch my points, make choices about what goes in my mouth and yet it never occurs (well hardly never) to get off my fat ass and move.   I make certain I don't step on the scale until Sunday morning. I hesitate at the scale every weekday morning and battle the urge to throw off my robe and stand naked in the glow of the blinking neon digital testament to my will power. It's cruel. It's only 2 pounds, but how powerful those 2 little pounds are.  They dictate my future. If I fail do I have what it takes to shrug my shoulders and tell myself it's just a little set back.  Diets-geeze what a bore.

Just in case you're wondering.  155 LBS.   New goal - 150 (2.5 weeks)

2 lbs. a week, and I'm feeling good.

Sunday Count Down 
Me  - 4.4 Lbs.  -  157   My new Goal: 150  /expect it will take 3 weeks (145 on the horizon)
Tom -10 Lbs.   -   still not telling-expect he'll lose another 10 this week  


Last night I cubed and sauteed chicken breast (12 oz ea,) in low sodium soy sauce and chopped garlic , (1 tbsp olive oil) sesame seeds, Sriracha sauce and served over a bed of chopped romaine lettuce.  Added snap peas and a glass of Chardonnay.  Yum. 


Breakfast: English muffin, egg and slice of deli ham, cup of coffee, strawberries and blueberries. 


Lunch: Tomato-basil soup, 2 rice cakes with laughing cow cheese spread, celery sticks, more berries and a banana. Ice tea with lemon and sweetener. 


Note:  used cooking spray, non-stick pans and lemon juice.  


Tom googled Brussels sprouts and learned that the early spring is the only time to eat them.  Cut off the stems, remove outer leaves, shake in a ziplock bag with olive oil, salt & pepper, bake at 400 degree for 30 minutes (shake the pan every 10 minutes).  They were really good, not bitter or smelly-kinda buttery. Who knew I would eat brussel sprouts.  That's the power of the internet. 


Discovered a new Food Co-op in Medford - everything organic & expensive. The produce was amazing. 

Sunday count "down":
Me  -  1.8 lbs      159.8 Lbs  total
Tom - 6.4 lbs     (he's not sharing)

Totally worth it!   I'm a little lighter, no alcohol for a week (!!!)  And Tom is SO-Sited.

Got a new app for my phone that let's me scan barcodes at the store to calculate points per serving. Cool. Fun.  We're having fun with this - something we do together.  We're eating well, no cardboard - but I miss my cheese, potatoes, pasta and bread.  Although I have a little of each, it's not quite the same.   Some sacrifices are worth it.  Good news.  Sushi is SOOooo In, tempura not so much.

Looking forward to shopping for new clothes in June.  


Had: pork chops, red potatoes, zucinni
         Chicken, rice, snap peas 
         Tilapia, rice, mushrooms
         Burger patty, cottage cheese, veggies 
         Chicken Caesar Salad 
         Turkey, ham sandwiches 
         Celery with Laughing cow cheese 
         Special K - snack bars 
         WASA sourdough crisp bread 
         Tuna salad, carrots, croutons 
         Bananas, apples, blueberries, oranges 
         Oatmeal, eggs, toast 
         Can't believe I forgot to buy butter - spray 
         Progresso Soups (for my veggies)


Not hungry anymore.  Going shopping

My secret public journal:  I started weight watchers today.  I've committed to 3 months.  I'm starving.  I lost .8 lbs overnight.  I'm starving.

Yesterday weigh in:   166 Lbs.
  -  New scale, now that's better . . . . .
Last night weigh in:    161.4 Lbs.
This morning (before breakfast):  160.8

Instant Oatmeal with equal, medium banana, coffee with instant creamer, 1/2 cup 1% milk  -  Yummmmm

I get to eat 26 points a day.  Tom gets 51 !!  My  breakfast was 5 points.  Lunch and dinner looks bleak or I have to get REALLY creative.  I don't want to buy a bunch of fancy this and that to enhance the experience.

So Sad, no patty-melts.

The Tax Man, yeah eh, the tax man....

So I mistakenly looked at his face. Why? Big spider monkey eyes sunken in gray flesh. Drooping mouth that appeared to be suspended and dangling from deep frown lines. Not a happy camper.  Then why is he dancing? I little jig.  Shuffle, shuffle, tap tap, kick.  Repeat.  He's 90 years old at least.  His suit was immaculate. Clean, well fitting, bright RED, WHITE & BLUE, starched and perky.  Not like the others who wear the one size fits all sun faded gown and crown exposing pant legs and facial hair.  This guys wife probably told him he couldn't go out looking like THAT!  I can see her mending, ironing, starching and patching with a vengeance the well worn issued uniform of the Liberty Tax street corner clown.  But I see his eyes.  I want to cry. Why does this 90 something need to do this?  What happened to make it necessary for him to spend his golden years shuffling for minimum wage? I want to turn around and give him a dollar.  Then across the street, yet another bouncing icon of liberty and justice waves her banner in Spanish - must be the wife. Decked out to perfection.  She is smiling with a hint of desperation, her wave too exaggerated - her liberty crown sparkles. I barely overcome my sadness with him when she conjures up deep feelings that rise in my throat. I have to look away.  NOoooo. Red light.  Just my luck.  I wait and busy myself with the console panel and find it necessary to bend over and look into my glove box, adjust my mirrors - ANYTHING to keep from looking.  

Is it just me?  Isn't it cruel, or something, to ask our elderly to perform on street corners in all types of weather, sucking in auto fumes and street dust?  I guess that's the beauty of a free society.  We all make our own decisions and have a choice - yeah right.

Med Update:  Arm doing real good.  Saw the oncologist-she forgot I'm mono-boob and scheduled me for a mammogram of my right breast.  I was laying down in her office and she saw the look on my face when she mentioned it.  She quickly peeked under my drape and smiled -  Ooops. Let's do a colonoscopy instead.  Well gee thanks! That and another bone scan in 6 months.  Keeping me healthy so I can dance on a street corner one day.  

Without onions

I was amused  sitting among the bearded truckers and tinted ladies in stretch jeans while enjoying  my Patty-Melt and fries.  Ahhh yes, a Patty-Melt and really good fries. Favorite delicacy of the road trip. Funny how I found myself sitting among the elderly pushing my change around the formica while my seat cushion made fart noises each time I adjusted my fanny. I believe there is a reason the menu that would typically boast "GRILLED ONIONS" with your order simply states in small print "grilled onions upon request, fifty cents". These old geezers can't handle grilled onions.  I envision the kitchen staff finally putting their fist down and saying "fine, just take the damn onions off the menu if everyone is going to order their Patty-Melt without onions."  Anyone who really knows me knows I love Patty-Melts, and hate onions and have always ordered mine without. It was like a fantasy come true. A Patty-Melt - ON THE MENU, WITHOUT ONIONS. I wait to place my order, taking little sips from a four ounce glass of ice water. The ice is smooth and melts quickly, the glass cold with tiny water droplets running down the side creating water rings on my napkin. The waitress is a classic. Pink curly shower cap hairdo, broad shoulders under a tight pink nylon uniform. Hem above the knee revealing legs that have endured the stress of being on ones feet for many years encased in thick stockings and stumped at the ankles that poured into white utility shoes. Water pitcher in one hand she reaches across the formica and quickly snatches my glass for a refill. Am I ready to order?  "Patty-Melt, please".  I'm very disappointed when she asks if I want that with or without grilled onions.  I'm tempted to respond  "For fifty cents extra?  Are you kidding? What is this world coming to? Next thing you know they'll be charging for water? Just give it to me without onions".  

But I mind my manners, and smile and request "without".  I'm a good girl.  Not quite old enough to get away with such nonsense. I'm just happy I didn't get the look, the raised eyebrow, the side smirk suggesting I was nuts ordering a Patty-Melt without.

Does anyone make Patty-Melts at home?

Send out the weather cat!

The winter rains arrive.  Splash, flood, wind, calm, chill. . . . . ahhh. . . a little winter sun.  The local news broadcasts the weather like its nuclear fallout. Updates every fifteen minuets are transmitted to our windowless bunkers. Global details in all the colors of the rainbow highlighting the highs and lows, winds gusts and tropical fronts.  Special teams of reporters gather their gear and stand strong against the elements to bring us a visual reminder that we have weather. These Special Ops reveal their identity with a "this is Guy Mann reporting" before each tale of mother natures furry for the record just in case they are swept away, caught up in the tide surge or ragging swell of a local creek. And those lucky to survive, again make their identity known with a repeat announcement to include their name and broadcasting station. Important information. Back at HQ the diagrams take on a clownish comical appearance with dancing clouds and cartoon lightning bolts.  These visuals must be for the kids. The days of the week are lined up in columns with happy faces, sad faces and dark cloudy faces. The days temperature in COMIC SANS type, puffy & in bright colors. If we're expecting wind, a little cloud blows an invisible gust causing the happy face to brace itself and grimace.  Me?  I watch and listen with little interest.  I get distracted by the ill fitting clothes of the local reporter, or her bad haircut. I Giggle at the absurdity of the notion anyone cares about the high pressure over Canada or the swirling jet steam in the Pacific.  Everything I need to know about today's weather I get from my cat. The winter rains arrived: Joey is wet. The wind is strong: Joey won't go out. Joey complains: its cold, wet and windy.  When he comes in he brushes his tail against my leg and I can prepare for the day. 

It's a long hair night

Much to his own surprise Joey cornered a grey fox munching sun flower seeds on our deck.  To my knowledge this was his second encounter. He had no intention of getting into a tussle but found himself face to face with this screeching fox when all he wanted to do is signal me his interests to be inside.  It's cold out and he's a short haired cat.

The night before I was awaken by a new sound. Wild. It sounded like a warning. I rose and looked out my window knowing all well that the dark wouldn't reveal the source. Concerned I went downstairs and turned on the back porch light.  All I saw was Joey, sitting quietly looking out into the dark with BIG green eyes.  I opened the door and he reluctantly stepped inside.  We went upstairs.  Joey revealed nothing.  He slept.

At night Joey adventures outside and, well, he's Joey. When he wants back in he knows he'll find us in the family room and goes around to the double doors on the front side of the house and stands tall.  We usually hear him before we see him.  Squeak, squeak, on the glass.  He's in.  On this particular night, however, he encountered a  grey fox, the size of a large cat, helping himself to the bird seed we put out for the local avian families.  And it's then we discover the source of that wild sound, the warning.  I turn on the overhead beams and in the corner, with nowhere to go but down one flight was this creature.  The sound was more fitting for a large bird of prey. Weird and scared.  I saw Joey and went to the other double doors and called him inside.  He hesitated, but came in and quickly turned around to view, from the other side of the glass, the little fox run the length of the deck, leap over the railing and disappear. This guy knows the lay of the land.  He's been here before.  He knew there is a sizable distance between the rail and solid ground - without even a turn of the head - gone.

Tom and I were excited.  We have a grey fox.  Who knew that bird seed would give us so much entertainment.  But, unfortunately it's probably not a good idea to invite wild guests to our home so we decide to make sure the seeds are only out during the early morning hours.  It's winter. These are long hair nights for a short haired cat.

Can't believe I found a photo of a human bean

OMG!!

Tears. #8 What a shock. Sweetie, my little Munchkin. I can't hold back my tears.  I wish I could take care of you or had some words of wisdom to pass on, but I'm at a loss. OMG ! 

Love you, and am sending good thoughts your way.  

Just a little pill, I am.

I'm reminded today that the side effects of breast cancer treatment is dull and boring.  I'm dull and boring.  The thing is, everyday, EVERYDAY I have to manage my fatigue, discomfort and  pain and conquer my depression over these dull and boring side effects.  Both arms throb with pain or tingle with numbness - Jolts of pain stab my feet and my ankles feel bruised.  I can't sleep because my arms just don't have a place in my bed. There is still tenderness in my scar and the tissue below is stretched to its limit.  I pull and stretch, massage and contort to keep it flexible, but its no use.  My wrists are weak. My hand strength almost non existent. I'm tired. My clothes feel uncomfortable and under garment heavy with silicone. I tug and pull and reposition elastic and sop up the sweat before it soaks my clothes. All because of this little pill.

I'm tired of listening to myself and know that no one else wants to hear it.  Who would? It's dull and boring.  Come on already, enough is enough. Suck it up.  I'm such a little pill.

No one should have to take this pill.  But thank Goddess this little pill exists.  Geeeze, I'm boring.