Not by the hair on my chinny, chin, chin...

What a beard hast thou got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my fill-horse has on his tail.

Merchant of Venice. Act II. Sc. 2. L. 99.



So we went to a neighborhood party last night to play horse racing games and of course, eat. I live in a wonderful neighborhood, the people are fun, they care about each other and yes, they like to party. As we were finishing round one of appetizers and drinks my neighbor Daphne announces "I have a new favorite toy". Since Daphne hosted a Pure Romance party last year I was bracing myself for what she was about to pull out of her purse, only to be perplexed by the object she was holding in her hand that appeared to be a thin flexible coil with soft tips on each end. Having obtained all of our undivided attention, Daphne went on to explain that it was a facial hair threader.

Now, I don't know about you, but I seem to sprout unwanted stray hairs on my face overnight. Is it age, is it hormones, or is it just God's practical joke that we grow this crazy hair at the time in our life when we can barely see it, until it too has gotten to the point that it can be either braided or styled? I'm not sure, but I was intrigued by this miracle tool. Daphne was happy to de-hair us all,(that's her husband Mark in the other picture)and while I can't say that it was painful, you definitely can feel the hairs being pulled out by the roots. I am forced to admit that even though I professed to have no hair on my upper lip, I had tears come to my eyes and asked "Am I bleeding?" when she attacked my nonexistent moustache. However, I am a convert. All the fine hair, peach fuzz stuff disappeared, I was on a mission to have one of these miracle workers. So, in the interest of keeping our neighborhood free of unwanted hair, Daphne shared her secret, and I will share it with you. Here is the link, in case you want to order your own Bellabee Facial Hair Remover.

Code word

Close friends contribute to our personal growth. They also contribute to our personal pleasure, making the music sound sweeter, the wine taste richer, the laughter ring louder because they are there.

~ Judith Viorst

You may have noticed I haven't been here for a couple days, and just so you know, it wasn't because of writer's block. I had book club at my house last night and it was late when everyone left. I sat down to add an entry, but the sedating effects of limoncello, pinot grigio and lots of laughter left me exhausted and the bed won over the laptop. For those of you who have never tried limoncello, you must do so at least once. Limoncello is a lemon flavored liqueur, usually imported from Italy. Because we had read "Eat, Pray, Love" this month, I chose to serve Italian themed refreshments. Limoncello can be mixed with other things, but we chose to have it straight from the freezer (yes, it needs to chilled in the freezer) in beautiful antique cordial glasses rimmed with sugar. Mmm, mmm...



Which leads us to the strawberry tiramisu tarts. These delicious bite sized piece of heaven are the easiest things to make, and I've added the recipe from Paula Deen below. But you are probably wondering what all this has to do with book club. Our book club has just been reinvigorated, and after last night, I can't for the life of me remember why we let such great times fall by the wayside. Contrary to popular belief we do actually read one book a month (not too much to ask) and we do discuss it. I find it fascinating to hear the multitude of interpretations our group can come up with, sometimes I wonder if we all really read the same book. The one thing we do have in common is the laughter. Lots of it. I have been blessed with exceptional friends. They have been with me through the good times and the bad, births, deaths, weddings, divorces, you name it. I don't ever want to lose my connection to them. So once a month we have book club. Book club, as my wise husband has pointed out, is a code word for we eat, we drink, we laugh, and most of all we remember how lucky we are to know each other.

Strawberry Tiramisu Tarts
1/2 cup strawberry preserves, at room temperature
1 1/2 (6.3-ounce) packages miniature bite-size sweet tart shells or phyllo shells
1 (8-ounce) package mascarpone cheese, softened
1/4 cup Limoncello or lemonade
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
3/4 cup heavy whipping cream
1/4 cup confectioners' sugar
1 teaspoon lemon extract
2 quarts fresh strawberries, halved
Directions
Place about 1/2-teaspoon strawberry preserves in bottom of each tart shell; set aside.

In a medium bowl, combine mascarpone cheese, Limoncello or lemonade and lemon juice. Beat at medium speed with an electric mixer until creamy.

In a medium bowl combine cream, sugar and lemon extract. Beat at medium-high speed with an electric mixer until medium peaks form. Fold into mascarpone mixture, stirring until combined.

Spoon about 1 tablespoon mascarpone mixture into each tart shell. Top each with a strawberry half.

I love garlic!

Without garlic I simply would not care to live.

~ Louis Diat

Tonight is "Biggest Loser" night and I'm trying to watch the progress of the losers and write at the same time. By the way, I hope that Melissa on the red team gets kicked off soon, I don't care for her. I am feeling motivated again and back on track according to my scale, we will see what happens on Saturday...I don't think I've mentioned that Mark has promised me $10 for every pound I lose by the end of February. I am starting my shopping list already!

I stopped at Jungle Jim's on my home from work tonight. I was in a hurry and had only two things on my list; Limoncello and mascarpone cheese. For those of you who haven't been to Jungle Jim's International Market, you must go! There is no such thing as a quick trip and I decided tonight that I am going to plan a field trip back very soon. But that will be a blog in and of itself. Tonight we talk garlic.

I love garlic. It amazes me how something so simple can transform a dish the way it does. My oldest stepson Chris recently gave me a slow cooker recipe for 40 garlic chicken. His recipe uses a whole chicken but I had an abundance of boneless, skinless breasts so I made some modifications. My version follows, but first I want to reassure you that the 25 cloves of garlic I used are not too much. Remember, the garlic actually roasts and becomes very mild, and the smell will make your kitchen a mecca for all those vampire people that seem to be lurking everywhere nowadays.

Also, I've added a couple things to this site. I've added a search button should you want to find an old post or recipe, and I've added another blog to my list. It is called Plates and Glasses, and it's author happens to be Chris, a 30-something New York City dweller. It is his take on food in the city and at home. Check it out. (He is also an awesome mixologist- maybe we can get some tasty cocktail recipes)

Slow Cooked Garlic Chicken
4-5 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
14 oz. chicken broth
Celery
2 Tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon thyme
salt and pepper to your liking
25 peeled cloves of garlic

Chop celery into 1/2" thick pieces, enough to cover the bottom of the crock pot. Add 10 cloves of the garlic and approximately half of the chicken broth. Place the chicken breasts on top of the celery. Mix together the remaining chicken broth, olive oil, thyme, salt, pepper and remaining garlic. Pour over the chicken breasts and cook 6-8 hours on low. Chicken will be fork tender and the garlic and broth will give it a wonderful flavor.

Dogs who love too much.

Dogs have given us their absolute all. We are the center of their universe. We are the focus of their love and faith and trust. They serve us in return for scraps. It is without a doubt the best deal man has ever made.

~ Roger Caras

Every night at my house is a three dog night. If you aren't familiar with the meaning of a three dog night (or think it's a rock band from the 70's), it means it is so cold that it takes sleeping with three dogs to keep you warm. I know what you're thinking, and yes, there are times when even I think I am crazy to let three dogs sleep on my bed. Most of the time two of them aren't any problem. Then there's Chance, the dog who loves too much.

Chance is the black cocker spaniel who has only one eye. Chance was a rescue who came to us from Kokomo, Indiana after being abused so severely that he lost an eye. He also suffers from seizures, and I can't help but wonder if Chance might have had a brain injury from his abuse as well. My friend Shari once told me that female dogs love you, but male dogs are in love with you. It is true. If you looked up puppy love in the dictionary, Chance's picture would be there. No matter where I go or what I'm doing Chance has to be there, and if he's able to touch me, lay on my lap or snuggle behind my legs he is all the happier. There's nothing like waking up in the morning with a little puppy face plopped on the pillow next you with that one soulful eye waiting to see his mom.

Chance has one fault. He's a poser. A poser is defined as one who habitually pretends to be something he's not. Chance does it to get attention, he fakes injuries. Whenever we have a group of friends or family over Chance will fake an injury if he feels he isn't getting enough attention. The first time he did it we all fell for it. He limped around, hobbled, and laid in one place so much we were convinced he had either broken a leg or dislocated his hip. Everyone at our house that night babied him and carried him around, making over him as if he'd been hit by a car. So the next day I took him to the vet,where he was xrayed and manipulated and proclaimed to be perfectly healthy; there wasn't a thing wrong with him. Upon hearing this Chance jumped up from his pitiful state of despair and pranced out to the car. He's done this same thing several times, always when we have company, and always when he feels like he's not getting enough attention. The most recent episode of this behavior was last Sunday night...I think it had something to do with the four little girls who were here and the fact that Chance became their patient to take care. After all, he was limping, not able to put his front paw down..."how can you be so mean, Aunt Cris, he's hurt..."

So Chance enjoyed the attention and the spoiling and laid on the couch under a snuggie looking quite pitiful until he heard the front door shut for the last time. Only then did he slowly raise his head and do a one-eyed sweep of the house to assure the coast was clear. Healed by some miracle, he jumped off the couch and raced through the house like a crazed animal. Poser.

Lazy Sunday.

A rainy day is the perfect time for a walk in the woods.

~ Rachel Carson

I have one question. What kind of drugs was Rachel Carson on?!? She obviously doesn't have three dogs or she wouldn't think walking in the woods on a rainy day is a good idea. However, Layla, the youngest of our three cocker spaniels, must think Rachel Carson is a genius. It has rained all day, and I've had to dip Layla's feet in the laundry tub more times than I care to count just to get the mud and leaves off her. We have woods behind our house and it seems to be Layla's favorite place to be whatever the weather. I am not quite sure why she is always the messiest, it just figures that she is also the heaviest (or as Mark likes to say...big-boned) of the dogs to lug around trying to get clean.

Unfortunately this has been a very low energy weekend. It seems there is some nasty virus going around and I have been doing my best to fight it off. So I have napped, watched some of the football playoffs...still a little disappointed that the Bengals aren't playing, and exerted myself once today by doing a load of laundry. Back to work tomorrow, hopefully with a little more energy and a lot less nausea. Looking at the bright side of this, maybe I'll weight less...

Take care and stay healthy!

Please read!

Thanks to everyone who is checking in periodically to read this blog. I would love to know who you are, and that you are there...please take a minute to click on the follower link to the right. If you already have a Google email account all you have to do is sign in, if not it is free and easy. Please feel free to leave comments, I love hearing feedback.

Thanks and have a great weekend!

Blame it on my job.

My body is a temple where junk food goes to worship.

~ Author unknown

So another Saturday has rolled around and that means another weigh in at WW. I knew days ago that this was not going to be a good week. You may be wondering what this has to do with my job, let me explain. For those of you who don't already know, I am the operations director of an occupational medicine clinic. Occupational medicine focuses on providing health care for businesses. We provide healthcare for over 2000 companies at my clinic alone. That includes mom and pop companies as well as the big ones. Pepsi, Coca-Cola, Otis Spunkmeyer, Kellogg's, Keebler, Husman's, Snyder's, Wal-Mart, Sam's, Target, etc...I think you get the picture.

I used to be a labor and delivery nurse and I am forced to admit that there are fleeting moments when I miss that role. My friend Maureen posted a picture on Facebook of her holding a newborn baby that she had helped deliver. It was sent to her by one of her patients and I felt a small pang of jealousy that I was no longer part of that world. NO ONE sends me or my staff pictures of us doing their drug screens! However, we are the lucky recipients of a constant stream of muffins, cookies, cereal, and other snacks from the companies we serve. This week we saw the guys from Husman's...Husman's Potato Chip Co. One of the guys brought in a huge box full of the super sized, 20% free, bags of flavored chips. By Friday there was one lonely bag left out of the box of 10! I am addicted, especially to the bbq ones, Sweet and Sassy BBQ are my new favorite. These are the perils of my job. :)

Back to the weigh in. I gained 2.4 pounds. (I told you I'd be honest) but there were lots of reasons besides the potato chips...one other huge factor being the bowls of miniature Reese Cups my boss sits in front of us at our area meetings once a month. I'm convinced she is a food pusher, and she does have us captive for five straight hours, what can I do? My performance evaluation is coming up. I can't risk upsetting her by not eating each and every last one of them! So I blame it on my job...it's a tough gig, but somebody's got to do it.

I really do know how to cook.

There is one thing more exasperating than a wife who can cook and won't, and that's a wife who can't cook and will.

~ Robert Frost

Sunday evening we had our family over for the dinner I had originally planned for New Year's Day but was too under the weather to fix. I fixed a pork roast, using the recipe I've added at the end of this blog. The roast fit perfectly into one of the few meager possessions I inherited from my mother, her enamel roasting pan. While it cooked I thought back to the countless meals my mother had prepared using this roaster. I always thought my mom was an incredible cook, but the mouth watering smell of the roast made me wonder if perhaps her secret had been the roaster.

When it came time for dinner, food was everywhere and after removing the roast to a carving board, I placed the pan back in the oven just to get it out of the way. This roast was perfect. I still don't know whether it was the marinade, the cut of meat, or the magical roasting pan. I was beginning to think my mother had kept this secret well guarded, and I secretly thanked my lucky stars that I, and not my sister, had managed to get the roaster.

Fast forward to Tuesday evening. I called Mark on my way home and asked him to preheat the oven so it would be hot when I got there. When I walked in the door I could tell he had followed my instructions and I headed to the bedroom to change clothes before I started supper. I was in the middle of changing when I heard Mark yell "We have a fire in the oven!" Image my horror when I ran to the kitchen to find my beloved roaster ablaze...Mark had heated the oven unaware that the roaster, full of drippings, was still in the oven. Now, let me clarify. I do not make a habit of hiding dirty pans in my oven. (Although I did go to a friend's New Year's Eve party where we found the turkey carcass from Thanksgiving still in the oven when someone wanted to heat up their appetizer.) If you recall, I mentioned hurting my back Sunday evening. Mark was kind enough to clean up and he swears he didn't know the roaster was in there.

After the fire was extinguished, I surveyed the damage and wanted to cry. Not because the roaster was beyond salvaging, after all I can easily replace it for under $10.00, but it was the connection to my mother that couldn't be replaced. I know it isn't the meat, the marinade, or the pan that makes a meal great. It's the love that goes into. That was my mother's secret all along. Cooking delicious meals was her way of showing us how much she loved us.

So here is the recipe, and don't forget the love.

Ingredients
1/4 cup Worcestershire sauce
1/4 cup soy sauce
2 tablespoons honey
2 tablespoons cider vinegar
3 teaspoons lemon juice
1 teaspoon prepared mustard
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon celery seed
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 (4-pound) pork loin roast
1 cup barbeque sauce (optional- we don't think you need it)

Directions
In a small bowl, combine Worcestershire sauce, soy sauce, honey, vinegar, lemon juice, mustard, salt, celery seed, pepper, and garlic. Place pork loin roast in a large plastic resealable bag and pour marinade over pork loin. Seal and marinate in refrigerator for at least 4 hours (preferably overnight).

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.

Remove roast from bag, place in a roasting pan, and discard marinade. Roast pork loin at 325 degrees F for 2 to 2 1/2 hours, or to an internal temperature registers 160 to 170 degrees F. on an instant-read thermometer. Serve with BBQ sauce.

The same only different.

Life is an endless struggle full of frustrations and challenges, but eventually you find a hairstylist you like.

~Author unknown

"You want me to do what?" "You heard me" I repeated. "I want you to take my picture." Lori, the stylist who cuts my hair at Colours laughed out loud...repeatedly. In fact she laughed so much that everyone else in the salon stopped what they were doing to watch the photo op. For years I went to someone else, and for years I came home and complained for days (or weeks) about how unhappy I was. I wielded the scissors myself, thinking I could "fix" what I didn't like, and endured foil and caps and the intoxicating aroma of permanent waves.

About 5 years ago I was given an ultimatum; find someone else to cut your hair or forever hold your peace. So I went to the underground hotline of hair and got a tip to call Lori. Lori owns this great little neighborhood salon named Colours, and I have to admit, I've never seen one of her haircuts that I didn't like. So, with a bit of trepidation, I made an appointment with her and I've never looked back.

My hair is naturally a dark, dull, crayon brown color with an ever increasing splattering of gray. Through the miracle of color enhancement it becomes a mixture of copper, honey, sunlit baby fawn highlights. (LOL) Seriously, it is amazing that all she ever does is cover the roots- see above, and it somehow manages to turn into a headful of "I was born with it" beautiful hair. And for a long time that hair was long, never to be more than just trimmed. That was, until I got a wild hair, and it wasn't on my head, and I decided to let Lori cut it. Cut it she did. Off came seven inches of hair at one time. My friends were in shock...some had never know me with hair not long enough to pull into a ponytail. I love it short, in fact, I told her last night that I didn't think it was short enough.

Being this age isn't easy. I envy women who can run a brush through their hair, put on some chapstick and sweatpants and look great. Heck, I can't even find a pair of sweatpants that are long enough. I am not "one of them". So I work at it a little harder and I remind myself that to be taken seriously you have to learn how to laugh at yourself.

Sugar and spice and everything nice.

She will fill our lives with sunshine...And our hearts with love.

~Author unknown

So I guess you can figure out my new grandbaby is a GIRL!!! We found out yesterday, but I delayed putting it on here until after Heather and Jeff had time to personally tell their entire family...news worthy of hearing straight from the mom and dad to be. The sonogram picture above is of the baby, (remember this baby is still in utero) not bad for being taken with a camera phone, sent to a camera phone emailed to the computer etc. I, of course, think she is beautiful. It is hard to believe that we can tell already that she has her daddy's nose and her mother's lips.

I also saw my first picture of Heather actually looking pregnant, until now you couldn't tell in any the pictures I had seen. I think the reality of all this has finally hit me. My baby girl is having her own baby girl. It is hard to be so far away, and I am sure that will become even more difficult. Thank goodness for camera phones, email and webcams (thank you Christopher for that Christmas present!).

I can't wait to be a grandma. I will love watching this little miracle grow and learn and become her own person...As much as I loved watching my own little girl grow from a perfect, beautiful baby into a head strong teenager into a confident, loving young woman about to embark on the journey of her life. Congratulations, Heather and Jeff, your blessings are just beginning.

Strong tables, strong drinks, strong friends

I saw this quote and had to laugh, it reminded me of the time Mark and I danced on the tables at Carlos and Charlie's in Cozumel. Gin and tonic and tequila certainly qualify as strong drinks. And every one of my friends are strong women. The way I figure it, that makes me a powerhouse!

I have lots to write about but unfortunately I hurt my back yesterday (getting a plastic spoon, real strong,huh?) and I am finding sitting in one place for long almost impossible. Hopefully things will be better tomorrow night. Stay tuned for my thoughts on a dog who loves too much...and fakes injuries for attention, my great nieces, family dinners (including a wonderful recipe for roast pork)and most importantly- new baby news. Off to find the ibuprofen and the heating pad.

...and can I just say, it drives me nuts when people use the incorrect form of words...it should be you're only as strong...

Heavy hands.

The older you get, the tougher it is to lose weight, because by then your body and your fat are really good friends.

~ Author Unknown

When I woke up this morning the first thing I did was check to see how tight my rings were on my fingers. My rationale was that the looser they felt, the more weight loss I would show when I got weighed today. Bad news...they were really tight. So I made my way to the shower, not feeling real hopeful about what the scale would bring. I have been a lifetime WW member for 10 years, and believe me, it was a lot easier to lose weight when I was 40 years old.

I have a dear friend who is just a few years older than me who used to tell me "Just wait until you are 50, it is next to impossible to lose weight." I didn't really believe her, I figured it was just an excuse. Boy was I wrong. Not that it's impossible, but is twice the effort that it was 10 years ago. I hope I am not starting to sound like I'm obsessed with my weight. Those who have known me longer than we'd like to admit will tell you that my mother was very (100lbs +) overweight. Her health suffered dramatically, and it not only affected her, but it's ravage of her body took it's toll on both my sister and me when we cared for her the last few months of her life. I don't want my children to have to deal with an elderly mother who didn't take care of herself. And, I do have that new baby coming, I need to be a physically fit grandma.

So off I went to my meeting with my friends, professing all along how good I'd been all week. I was still feeling how tight those rings where when the scale revealed that I had lost 5.6 lbs! Which only proves one thing...I carry my weight in my hands.

It's a wrap...

Only Robinson Crusoe had everything done by Friday.

~Author Unknown

It's Friday night and even though I feel like I got more than usual accomplished at work today, there was still a pile of "to do's" left on my desk. The lovely ladies in the picture above are just some of my team. They are the ones who work their magic everyday and help make our clinic one of the best. I love and appreciate each one of them. THANK YOU!

I thought I'd just give you an update on some of the things I've "talked" about in previous blogs. We still don't know if Heather and Jeff are expecting a boy or a girl. She is scheduled for a 3D sonogram on Monday. If that doesn't give us an answer I'd have to say someone is giving us a sign that we just aren't supposed to know until the baby makes an appearance. Speaking of which, I booked my flight to Hawaii- 2 weeks at the end of March. Let's just hope this child co-operates with it's due date. McKenzie Lu went back to the vet and seems to be progressing well. No more diapers and she is almost finished with her antibiotics. I managed to climb "the stairs of death" and work out four times this week. Tomorrow morning I will go back to WW and have an official weigh-in. I will report the results tomorrow, and yes, I will be honest. After all, I am the one who posted a picture of my feet, remember?!?

Have I mentioned that I love Facebook? I reconnected with my friend Karen this week, and other than finding out she is moving to Kansas City it was like we picked up right where we left off. Karen has lived in Ohio, Michigan, and Tennessee. I've been lucky enough to be her house guest in all three places. Looks like I will have to plan another trip. I hope she buys a house with an extra bedroom...

I've added another link to a wonderful blog featuring tasty "skinny" recipes. I've also added another picture. It was taken on Mother's Day 5 years ago in Hawaii. Watch for future references to it. There will be at least three blogs that are tied to it. :)

I hope your Friday night is as relaxing as mine, and remember, Robinson Crusoe was a fictional character.

It's a pleasant thing to be young, and have ten toes.

~Robert Louis Stevenson

So I've been stressed. And if you ask me, the very best way to feel better is to have a pedicure. I have two places I love to go; NVogue and Mitchell's in West Chester. My favorite is Mitchell's, and I always ask for Carlie.

Carlie is young and beautiful. She has gorgeous naturally curly hair and a complexion that is so perfect it makes me want to kick the soapy water I am soaking my feet in right in her face. I'm kidding of course. Carlie is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. If you are looking for someone to do your pedicure or manicure, give her a try.

From the minute you walk in the front door the tension starts to lift. I should stop here and add that pedicures are always best when done as a "girlfriend" activity and when a bottle of wine is involved. Yes, you can BYOB. If you prefer to remain sober they offer a variety of flavored coffees, lemon flavored water and soft drinks. Then there's the chair... The chair alone is worth the price of the pedicure. It heats and reclines and massages and allows you to sit up high with your feet immersed in a whirling pool of warm bubbles. I close my eyes and prefer to believe that it is, indeed, the throne for a well preserved beauty queen.

Pedicures are more than a simple matter of applying polish to the toenails. There's lots of trimming and filing and fluffing and buffing involved. The leg and feet massages are heavenly and then there's the choosing of the color. For some reason my friends can always choose a color (usually red) in less than 60 seconds. I am well into 30 or 40 minutes before I'm starting to narrow it down.

With colors like "Fishnet Stockings", "Barefoot in Barcelona", "Suzi Skis in the Pyrenees", "Skinny Dipping in Lake Michigan" and "Decadent Diva" who can choose so quickly???

I finally decided on "Scarlet O'Hara". When I got home, I asked Mark if he thought I had picked the right color. He simply looked at me and replied "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

Relax? Easier said than done.

Tension is who you think you should be. Relaxation is who you are.

~Chinese Proverb

Today was "one of those days". I am tired, I ate dinner at 9:30, and even though I really wanted to skip tonight all together, I also wanted to share just a couple thoughts.

Why are we, as a society, so focused on things that don't really matter? Why do we work ridiculous hours, put up with other's rudeness, complaints and incessant demands? Why is it so difficult to find a healthy compromise between what we want to do and what we think we should do?

If something were to happen to me, would my family know beyond a shadow of a doubt how much I love them? I hope so.

Off to bed. If you are new to my blog, hang in there and check back. I don't usually get so philosophical. I have a million things to ponder...pedicures, rules for taking pics, and my recent marriage to the mob.

Love,
C

Jillian scares me.

A good many dramatic situations begin with screaming.

~Jane Fonda


If you've never watched "The Biggest Loser", click on the link below and check out Jillian Michaels, one of the trainers.

http://www.nbc.com/the-biggest-loser/video/clips/week-1-jillians-warning/1190410/


Now do you understand why she scares? I understand the need to be motivated, but she would make me pee my pants. (Then she'd probably yell at me for that too) I prefer to think of motivation in terms of new clothes, new shoes, a pedicure, a facial, or maybe some nice sparkly jewelry. Don't get me wrong, I love the show and I would kill to have a body like Jillian. I am mesmerized by the contestants' transformation by the end of the season, and you have to agree that one person losing 34 pounds in one week is pretty incredible. The show is almost like a train wreck, you don't want to watch it, but you can't turn away. So I tune in and watch the challenges, the crying, the compassion (Jillian does have her good moments) and the incredible weight losses.

And...if the screaming scares me too much, I change the channel and watch American Idol!

And I don't cook, either. Not as long as they still deliver pizza.

~ Tiger Woods

Monday night is pizza night. It's not that I don't want to cook, I'd be happy to, but how can I pass up a large pizza for $5.00, or if I want to get fancy, $6.50? The bigger question is "How am I going to work this into my diet?". Fortunately I made a huge pot of vegetable soup last night and my calorie intake for today had been relatively low so I figured a couple pieces were certainly doable. We got the pizza and for the first time in I don't know how long, there was actually some left over. I'm forced to admit that I could have easily eaten two more pieces, but that would mean walking on the treadmill twice as long.

Right after dinner I "talked" (via Facebook) with my son, Eric. He and Silvia are leaving Sardinia for Rome on Friday evening. Talking with him about Rome, along with reading "eat, love, pray" made me think about how much I loved being there and how lucky I am to have been there twice. I had to laugh when I thought about what we consider pizza, and what the Italians call pizza. There is no doubt true Italian pizza is far more delicious, not to mention far more healthy, some don't even have cheese as a topping. The same goes for ice cream. As much as I love Graeter's, nothing compares to the gelato sold everywhere you turn, my favorite was a little shop close to the Trevi Fountain.

Enough talk about pizza and ice cream. Encouraged by my children, I climbed those steps once again to the treadmill. I'd like to think that they have my best interests at heart, but I think they are secretly trying to find as many ways as they can to keep me healthy so they don't have to take care of me in my old age...and that's okay with me.

Day 1.

I really don't think I need buns of steel. I'd be happy with buns of cinnamon.

~Ellen DeGeneres

So I got out of bed this morning with a faint recollection of telling myself that I had to get serious about this exercise and weight loss thing. I'm not sure, because there weren't any witnesses, but I think I groaned out loud. Sunday mornings are pretty laid back around my house, lots of time spent reading the paper and changing channels between ESPN and HGTV. It wasn't until Kyle came down the stairs on his way out the door and asked "What are you doing today?" that I was forced to actually say the words "I'm going to work out". There. I had said it aloud and this time there were witnesses present, there was no turning back.

Fortunately I don't have to go far to find all the exercise equipment I could possibly need. When we thought Kyle was moving out after college we turned his bedroom into an exercise room. So after lunch I changed clothes and climbed what seemed like a thousand steps to walk on the treadmill. I will be honest, I thought the treadmill would be the least threatening place for me to start. I am now convinced that there must be something wrong with the treadmill, because it said I only walked for 20 minutes, but I am convinced it was closer to an hour. Afraid I was pushing things too much (ha,ha) I managed to do some light weights for my arms and some crunches on the balance ball.

I'd love to say that I was super good about what I ate today, but that isn't the case. I did great until dinner when we went to the in-laws and had lasagna and garlic bread. This, in and of itself, wouldn't have been so bad, but they also had the most delicious chocolate cake with whipped creme icing I have ever had. I am addicted to chocolate, it is to me what cocaine is to a drug addict.

So, I figure I'm 50/50 for today. Tomorrow I'll try harder with the diet and I'll aim for another day spent doing some form of exercise.

Mark just got home from the grocery...I know, I'm lucky, he actually likes going to the grocery. Guess what he bought...

Another Saturday night...

Sorrow can be alleviated by good sleep, a bath and a glass of wine.

~St. Thomas Aquinas

"I'm going to take a bath" I announced to Mark at 9:30 tonight. He just laughed and said "You're going to shave your legs, aren't you?".

I hadn't really planned on shaving them tonight but I can take a hint. The truth is I've been depressed all day. I told you I wanted to shed a few pounds this year, and today I was forced to face the fact that I am doing nothing to accomplish that. For about the last three, or is it four? years I've gone to Weight Watchers with my good friends Shari and Cheryl. After weighing in today I had to face the reality that I now weigh more than I have at anytime in my life, including the day I delivered an 8lb. 10oz. baby boy. I could go on forever about WW, my friends and our Saturday mornings, but that is another blog of it's own.

So today I counted "points", the WW method, and tried to convince myself that I have enough discipline to lose 15 or 20 pounds. I napped, I watched the Bengals lose a miserable game and I started reading the book "eat, pray, love". Boy, can I relate to her. I did not exercise, which I know in my heart of hearts is the key to me being successful. Tomorrow I promise to do some form of exercise, I will let you know how that goes.

But tonight I took a bath. And, yes, I shaved my legs. I also made a mental note to myself to make an appointment for a pedicure, to clean out my closet, and to take Kyle's advice that New Year's resolutions shouldn't really start until January 11th...that means I am two days ahead.

Tomorrow I will sit down, plan out some meals and go to the grocery. After all, I have to pick up some Liquid Plumber somewhere!

One wild Friday night.

Middle age is when you're sitting at home on a weekend night and the telephone rings and you hope it isn't for you.

~Ogden Nash

Anyone who knows me very well can tell you exactly where I can be found on a Friday night. Home. They can also tell you what I'll be wearing. My robe. Friday night is my night to decompress. Nothing makes me happier than to come home from work, change clothes, and know that I am in for the night with nothing more to do than choose between "What Not to Wear", "Cake Boss" or "Say Yes to the Dress". Cold weather brings an added bonus of knowing that I can lay on the floor in front of the fireplace if I want to. And yes, I always want to.

Meals on Friday are pretty easy. Anything that I don't have to fix is fine with me. I will cook this weekend (watch for a new recipe I am trying out). I have one rule for Friday night and that is that I don't exert any more energy than it takes to open a bottle of wine. Tonight it is a nice glass of Pinot Noir, and since Mark isn't home, I am working on getting Kyle to go get us something to eat.

All week long my head spins with phone calls and patients and emails. Friday night makes that all go away. It may not be the most exciting thing, but it works wonders and is cheaper than professional therapy. It has become a joke that if you want me to be seen publicly on a Friday night you have to get to me before 6pm. Saturdays...those are an entirely different matter. I am willing and ready to be sociable on Saturday nights. Just give me a couple weeks notice to prepare...

Are you planning on braiding that?

Men's magazines often feature pictures of naked ladies. Women's magazines also often feature pictures of naked ladies. This is because the female body is a beautiful work of art, while the male body is hairy and lumpy and should not be seen by the light of day.

-Richard Roeper


Ok, I have professed that I am not a winter person. However, I will admit that I find one advantage to the winter months...you don't have to shave your legs. Long gone are the daily shaves, and it's hard for me to believe that as a 12 year old I wanted to shave my legs so badly that I used to sneak behind my mother's back. I sometimes think that I should have been European, where women are hairy and dangerous, and no one thinks anything of it.

Unlike the summer months when legs are expected to be hairless, tanned and toned, winter legs can be dry, flaky, hairy and pasty white. Of course one's husband or significant other has to be subjected to this, but I can usually get away with days of not shaving before Mark notices. I guess I've pushed things a little too far. Last night, in the most loving voice he could muster, Mark asked me "Are you planning on braiding that hair on your legs?"

Now,it really isn't that bad. Well, it is bad, but I certainly can't braid it. I tried to explain to him that there was a reason for it. 1. It's winter, I need the extra warmth. 2. I'm wearing long pants, no one sees it. If I wear a skirt, I am wearing boots and tights and still no one sees it. 3. I'm really busy, I don't have time. 4. My legs are long. I have a 36 inch inseam, it's quite a chore. 5. I need to buy more razor blades, I think there are only three in the cabinet. 6. I haven't been able to convince Mitchell's or NVogue to offer leg shaving (I'm not into waxing) as a spa service. 7. My daughter-in-law is Italian, I'm trying to relate more to her. He's not buying any of it.

So, I guess I'll break down and shave my legs. But it's going to have to be this weekend, when I'm well rested and have lots of time. Just when it was getting nice and soft...

Mama said there'd be days like this.

My mother always said "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all". I think I'll follow her advice for once. Tomorrow is another day. Stay tuned.

A foolish man tells a woman to stop talking, but a wise man tells her that her mouth is extremely beautiful when her lips are closed.

-unknown

Dogs in diapers.

The greatest pleasure of a dog is that you can make a fool of yourself with him and not only will he not scold you, but he will make a fool of himself too.

-Samuel Butler, Notebooks, 1912

Nothing gets your attention faster than hearing a voice say "Yeah, McKenzie, that's your butt that smells". McKenzie is our 12 year old cockapoo, affectionately know as Lulu or Kenzie Lu, and the voice belonged to Kyle, who at 23, is the youngest of our five human kids. I glanced over to see McKenzie thoroughly absorbed in checking out her own bottom, and it didn't take me long to realize this wasn't your run of the mill dog butt sniffing. Lulu was bleeding.

That was yesterday evening, today we went to see Dr. Horton. McKenzie has either a ruptured anal gland (sorry to be so graphic) or a tumor (otherwise known as Farrah Fawcett syndrome). At this point there is too much swelling and inflammation to differentiate. She goes back in a week after finishing a round of antibiotics and an anti-inflammatory. For now McKenzie has donned a new accessory- a diaper. Thanks to the young families in the neighborhood, we have a variety of Pampers and Pull-ups decorated with everything from Tweety Bird to Elmo, to choose from. At first Lulu wouldn't move. She sat in one place for an hour, and when she finally did walk she looked like a sidewinder trying to shake the diaper off.

When my kids were growing up they begged me to get a dog and I refused. We now have three furry kids that call our house home. The human kids just laugh and say every time one of them moves out we replace them with a dog. I don't think so...but then again, who would have thought I'd be dealing with diapers?

Seriously???...

Right before Christmas I visited JosephBeth Booksellers to see if I could find some good deals on books for my great nieces and nephews. While perusing the bargain section I was stunned, then amused, to see the above selection on the top shelf of Kid's Bargains. Evidently there's a whole group of youngsters out there who need instruction on "How to Get Pregnant"!

All the time we wondered and wondered, who is this person
coming/growing/turning/floating/swimming deep, deep inside.

-Crescent Dragonwagon

I had hoped to be able to share some good news about my grandbaby in waiting. By good news, I mean I had hoped to know boy...or girl. It seems this child isn't much of a flasher, but prefers to be discreet and keep it's gender a secret. Today was sonogram #3 for Heather, and the only thing we know for sure is that the baby has all it's arms, legs, toes, fingers, a cute little head and appears to be preparing for the 2024 Olympics, practicing kicks, flips and turns.

I am forced to admit that I was disappointed at first. I look forward to buying pink clothes, or blue if the case be, and calling the baby he or she, not "it". But as I talked with Heather (with a six hour time zone difference between us) I realized that it really didn't matter. Our entire family is thrilled to be welcoming this baby. Loved ones from Hawaii to half way around the world in Italy can't wait to meet this child, whatever it may be. The one thing we are sure of at this point is that it seems to be healthy, and on track to make an appearance the end of March. Everyone tells me that being a grandma is the best thing in the world. I can't wait.

Baby, it's cold outside.

Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.

~Edith Sitwell

Was I the only one who shuddered when they heard the weatherman say ""with a windchill of 7 below"? It was with those words that I decided today would be a good day to stay home and enjoy the comforts of a fire, football and my new robe and slippers (or snuggi if I decided to actually put clothes on). I am not a winter person, period. I was so impressed yesterday when I heard my sister was at a soccer game in 10 degree weather, until my husband pointed out to me that it was an indoor soccer game. So much for my admiration...Of course weather like this meant a warm, comforting breakfast was in order, after all, this is the last official day of the holiday season. Even though Christmas was over a week ago, we all know that it is the Monday after January 1st that signals the return to reality. No more short work weeks, no more getting to play that imaginary card that allows one to be a slacker for just one more day.

Breakfast ended up being a nice pot of coffee and sausage biscuits and gravy. I used Mary's recipe (see the link to her blog) and added some crushed red pepper flakes to give it just a little kick. Even my mother would have been proud. While we were at the table a male and female cardinal landed on the bird feeder next to our deck. Their colors were brilliant against the drab brown of the woods and they seemed oblivious to the cold. Suddenly the day didn't seem quite so bad. Home is a good place to be.

Tomorrow we go back to our daily routines, we focus on new goals, new problems and are given a new chance to not make the same mistakes. I will be a grandma for the first time this year, hopefully we will know boy or girl by this time tomorrow..

The photo is from one of our trips. Stay warm and think warm thoughts!

Happy New Year!

The object of a New Year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul.

G. K. Chesterton

I realize that today is January 2 and I am a day late in starting this blog. However, an unfortunate set of circumstances (headache, muscle aches, joint pain, nausea) kept me from starting yesterday as I had planned. I'm feeling much better today and hoping that yesterday wasn't an omen of things to come for 2010. Every year I say I am not going to make resolutions and every year I do anyway. I've decided to limit myself to three resolutions this year. There is, after all, a limit to the amount of failure one can tolerate. I am going to start exercising three times a week, which will hopefully lead to some long sought after weight loss, and I am going to limit my use of unsavory four letter words. In other words, use language befitting a well preserved beauty queen :) (see about me for some background on that title) I will update you periodically on how all that is going.

I hope everyone had a fun, safe New Year's eve. The photo currently posted is of Mark and me at Jim and Jack's. It was a fun filled evening of good food, great music and dancing. We hadn't actually been "out" for New Year's eve in years, I'm glad Mark pushed my to get out of my robe.

A lot of people have asked me what this blog is going to be about. Unlike my friend Mary, who has a wonderful blog dedicated to cooking (see link to her blog), this blog will be unpredictable. It may be about work, kids, husbands, friends, dogs, book club, the perils of growing more mature (not old!), cooking, or simply the quest to find the perfect pair of black shoes. Hopefully it will be a place where you can read something that will either make you say "Thank God I'm not the only one...", that's a good tip to know, or most importantly, you'll read something that will make you smile or laugh out loud.