A Charmed Life

A Letter To My Body

**If this were called "A Letter to my Brain", I could talk all about our tendency toward procrastination and being a "last-minute Charlie", like Mom always said.  It's the last day of the BlogHer "A Letter to My Body" project, but better late than never, right? Also, this is very tongue-in-cheek humor, I often poke fun of myself to get a laugh but no-one is laughing harder than me**

Dearest Bod,

Can I call you Bod?  Of course I can.  You might control the sugar-sucking metabolism, but I still call the shots around here.  We were born on September 15, 1971, so that makes us a persnickety, organized Virgo, so let's start at the top and work our way down, shall we?

Hair.  Oh, boy.  Why didn't you want to stay that beautiful golden shade of blonde?  It would have helped me explain away so many ditzy moments of our life together, like that time on the Air Force base that I heard a plane fly overhead and remarked that "we must be in a flight path".  But no, you had to go all dark and mousy on us.  And what's with the spiral curls?  Where the heck did we get those?  But you're very fine and silky and soft.  It was a little annoying in college when strangers would pat my head and exclaim, "your hair is so SOFT!".  I always wanted to reply "Your hands are so FILTHY!".  But thank you for covering my scalp completely so that I don't have to wear hats.  I hate hats.  But then, you already knew that.

Eyebrows.  First you were bushy, now you're thinning?  Get with the program, OK?  And quit yer squawkin' when I have to pluck some of you. Either stay in formation or you're out of the program.  But, you know, thanks for being so expressive, especially since I have no luck batting..

Eyelashes.  Short and sparse would have been bad enough, but straight?  And blonde on the tips?  What, did you not consult with the hair, first?  Still, you do a nice job of keeping dust out of my..

Eyes.  Ooh.  Large and hazel-green with thick dark blue rims around the irises.  We've gotten one or two compliments on our peepers in our day.  Unfortunately we can't always tell where they're coming from because we are as blind as a bat.  That's OK, because we have a phenomenal sense of smell, thanks to our large..

Nose.  Hmm.  I'm not sure if we've quite grown into you yet, which is bad news since apparently you will stop growing somewhere around...never.  Roman, heroic, aquiline...the only thing we won't be called is late to dinner, since we can smell it cooking a mile away.  But because of this we love food, it's music to our..

Ears.  A little big, aesthetically speaking, but Hair has got that covered.  And it's nice to have plenty of room for a double piercing.  We also have great hearing, which is a relief, since with our vision we can hardly read..

Lips.  Definitely our best feature, full and naturally red.  Naturally adept at smooching and singing music, which we all know hath charms to soothe the savage..

Breast(s).  Or should I say, (o) (o)?  I have a question for you two.  Why, oh why, did you wait to show up until I was most of the way through high school, when it was too late to snag a date for the prom?  Of course then you had to go all zero to sixty on us.  That wench Lor* H***on hung our bra on the flagpole at Band Camp for being flat and suspecting us of stuffing.  Here's the deal- when we get to our 20-year reunion, I'll spin around fast and you guys whip her upside the head with our FF-cups.  We'll kick her..

Ass.  Hmm. Well, you are really comfy, especially when I'm sitting here blogging away. And as much as I've always thought you were a little...well, not so little?  We've never gotten a single complaint.  And you are starting to look a bit fetching in our running pants.  So let's just work on that cellulite, OK?  There may not be much room left in my jeans but there is always room for improvement.  No time to..

Waist.  First off, thank you for stretching and expanding to fit a baby underneath, and snapping back again afterwards. And thank you for responding to our diet so well and shrinking back into a respectable jeans size.  But can you please have a convo with the abs and work out a plan for that belly button love handle of ours?  Then all we have to worry about is our..

Legs.  I'm sorry you're so sore.  I hope the bubble bath after our run helped you feel better.  I'm so proud of you.  You're helping the rest of us get so much healthier, and by running that marathon, we might be able to help other people get healthy again, too.  You were gettin' kinda chunky for a few years, there, but you've made a great turnaround and are starting to look like the long, lean stems I remember from year ago. That's quite a..

Feet.  You've come a long way, baby.  You started out clubbed and trapped in plaster, but look at you now!  All pedicured and polished and stuffed into extra-wide running shoes.  I promise to buy you a cute pair of slingbacks after the race.  If we have any toenails left, that is.  I swear, they'll grow back.  I know, I'm always telling Hair that, but this time, I really mean it.  And I'm sorry about the washer landing on our toes like that.  The important thing is that we're better now and we're going to cross that..

Finish Line.

Born To Walk Briskly

Happy New Year!  I hope everyone had fun tonight and has a plan to get home safely.  I am typing this quietly so as not to aggravate any post-celebration hangovers ;)  I wanted to share a couple of funnies and post my resolutions for 2008 to keep me from being tempted to back out of them later!  Grab some hair of the dog and a couple of Advil and check them out, if you like!

I had to replace Seph's toothbrush and thought I'd mention what I noticed about toddler toothpaste.  It's not mint or cinnamon-flavored like grown-up toothpaste.  It's bubble gum-flavored.  Why?  It's intended target audience is children who can barely walk, never mind walk and chew gum.  Why not make it taste like something they already eat and enjoy?  No, not like breast milk, that's disgusting.  But I'm pretty sure Seph would dig a dentrifice that tasted like mac-n-cheese.  Are you listening, Procter and Gamble?
I went to the grocery store directly after a long workout at the gym and I was starving.  So I decided I'd order a sandwich at their very good deli.  The "hail Caesar", with turkey, Havarti and garlic spread is my favorite, and although they can be slow it's worth the wait.  I simply order first, do my shopping and pick up my sandwich when I'm done.  Either working out drained my blood sugar to the point that it took some brain cells with it, or my blonde highlights are taking their job too seriously.  (Naturally blonde?  I'm sorry, I will type that again, more slowly ;)  When I approached the counter, the deli manager said, "Hail Caesar", and I snapped to attention.  I think I need to start carrying a nutrition bar or an apple or something!

On to the photos.  It's six minutes to midnight as I write this, and thus ends 2007, the only year that I have ever successfully carried out a New Year's resolution.  And it was the classic resolution I'd made every year since I hit my teens and discovered the scale:  "Lose weight".  I'd actually started at the beginning of November, but resolved to lose all of my excess poundage in 2007.  I won't go into how I did it at this time (feel free to ask me if you're ever interested), but my point is, I proved to myself that I could do something time-consuming and difficult if I truly applied myself.  Think I'm exaggerating?  I wasn't exactly Richard Simmons' material, but I did drop over 60 lbs.  Check it out:  the first picture is late October of 2006, right before starting my weight loss plan.  The second is from a couple of weeks ago, dressed up for Dave's company holiday party.  (Whoops, I think they're reversed, and for some reason they don't want text around them. Who can tell me how to use the Typepad custom settings?  I resolve to learn to use them this year!!)

Stoopid pictures.  I never had this much trouble with them before!  Anyway, here's my 2008 New Year's Resolution- at least, one of them.  By the end of this year, I am going to run a marathon for cancer research.  (I haven't decided which organization I'll go with yet, primarily because we're moving out-of-state but I don't know quite when. Any recommendations?  I'm all ears.)  Have I mentioned that I've never run a mile in my life?  But, I now have good running shoes, a novice program that I've already started, I've ordered the best sports bra known to Man (or, at least, to Oprah), and I have every confidence that I'll make it happen.  Plus, I have a brother who's been a long-distance runner for years, and we have to share some genes, right?  I'll get checked out by a doctor first, of course, and if I can't run it, I'll walk.  Heaven forbid I can't walk it, I'll raise the money anyway and nag somebody else to walk support another runner.  Cancer has taken way too much of my family, so if I can help escort it off the genome map and lose my ginormous butt in the process, I'm all for it!  So there you have it, my pledge of 2008.  Check this space for updates, and if you hear any whimpering, that's because, owww, I had the treadmill at a REALLY steep incline..

Well I guess I was born to run to bed..night all, and happy 2008! 

 

Just Plane Happy

I'm leeeeavin'...on a jet plaaaane...but I'll be back soon!  Seph and I are taking off for a week of hugging and smooshing our various family members in Colorado.  If I can tear myself away from my scrumptious nieces long enough to get my mitts on the keyboard, I'll let you all know what Seph thinks of her first snowball fight.  Think she's old enough to learn how to make them a la Calvin, with ice and dirt inside?  Think I'm too old to even consider having a snowball fight?  How about sledding?  It's been so long since I raced down a snow-covered hill, I'm almost ready to settle for a large baking sheet and a couple spritzes of Pam.  Think my 36 year-old butt will fit on a cookie sheet?

If I can get my cast-covered mitts on a keyboard in the ICU, I'll let you know.  Roooossebuuuuddd!!

Right On, Target

If I can complain when a mistake is made, it should follow that I give credit where credit is due when it's made right.  I just got back from my pharmacy (which shall remain nameless, but psst!  Look up ;), where the very penitent pharmacist gave me a gift card not only equivalent to the copays on my Pill prescription, but also for each of my mammograms.  I have Dave to thank for that last bit of inspiration, and am also patting myself on the back for having the right mix of annoyance and diplomacy in my voice to carry it off without being insulting.  (Yes, I am the wounded party here, literally, but there's no sense mucking up my karma being mean.)

My mom always told me, "The squeaky wheel gets the grease".  Of course, she also said, very explicitly, "NO MORE HORMONES".  I always did need to learn the hard way first before admitting she was right.  At least I'm consistent, right? 

I am such a pill, sometimes ;)

Photo, Finish!

How many lumps?  Try, NONE.  That's right...my scans came back CLEAR, thank God.  Doc says my ob/gyn needs to monitor me clinically since I've complained of pain.  Which only started when I got on the stupid Pill, which is so getting flushed down the toilet now.

I am so very grateful that there aren't any words.  Now the million other stressful things going on seem like nothing to me.  And my awesome friends and family whom I've stressed out worrying about me?  Mean everything to me.  You know who you are...so, thank you.

Now, onto packing!  I have 25 more days to get this entire house packed up and ready to show before I leave for FL to do the same thing to my dad's place. I'll make my deadline.  Luckily, us high-strung types are also quite efficient ;)

A word to the wise, or to the afraid...no matter how busy you are, or how scared...if you need a mammogram, go get one.  The moment of "owie" is nothing compared to the "owies" you're setting yourself up for if you wait too long.  Next month is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  If you're attached to your breasts (or you're attached to your partner's breasts!), get informed, get a grip, and get a mammogram and/or breast exam.  Don't let fear get the upper hand.  And if you need a hand to hold, and you're in the greater San Diego area, you can have mine.

Eat, Eat, Have A Little Ganache

I always thought the whole "they grow up so fast!" was something experienced parents made up to tell new parents in order to get them to think that this whole parenting this was a piece of, well, cake.  I just gave birth the other day, how can my baby be two?  But she is, and here's the last of the ganache-covered cupcakes, shaking in its little muffin paper, to prove it.  (Don't eat the cupcake...pack it in Dave's lunch...but dark chocolate has antioxidants...)

I think the birthday girl had a pretty good day.  Her beloved Auntie J. came over and brought her a balloon, which she was so overjoyed to receive that said beloved auntie did not even get a hug "hello".  Auntie J. also brought her a Leapfrog Phonics Bus, which she insisted on bringing to lunch with us.  We went to a little Middle Eastern place and Seph had a great time "dupdupdup''ing (dipping) the pita bread in my hummus and feeding it to the three little leapfrogs. 

Auntie C. and Uncle A. came over for pizza and homemade cupcakes this evening.  Auntie C. is an amazing photographer and took over a hundred photos of the little party girl.  After the pizza, I brought out the (amazing) toy wagon my friends from NJ sent to her, festooned with more balloons (her favorite thing besides Filbert and dupdupdupping her food in anything semiliquid), and filled with her presents.  She went absolutely apesh*t when she saw the wagon, and when I put up the seat back to show her how she could sit in it, she immediately signed, "Please??" and hopped in.  She didn't leave that wagon for the rest of the evening and was tickled pink when I told her she could eat her cupcake in there instead of her highchair. 

I think she looks pretty blase' about the whole thing...birthdays are just such plebeian holidays, aren't they?

It's hard to keep a stoically bored expression when eating ganache, however:
And nobody can ever keep a straight face around my girl.  Happy birthday, my sweetest one.  You make me so proud and honored to be your mommy.

So, who wants to split that last cupcake with me?

Amazing Grace

I almost forgot to post tonight!  My brain is acting less like the steel trap I know it can be and more like a colander, lately.  Mmmm, pasta..

Our old buddy Grace, who moved up to the Sacramento area last year soon after Seph's birthday, was in town for the San Diego Comic-Con, and gave us a call so we could get together.  I have to say, one of my very favorite things in life is to have someone call me and want to talk, get together, etc.  I love my friends like they're my family, so I'm usually the one to reach out and stay in touch.  It's not that I mind, but sometimes I get to wondering who would pick up a pen (or a mouse!) or the phone if I didn't make the effort to.  Well, this time, I let the friendship slide, with the very good excuse of being a busy toddler mom and not having the right phone number, etc.  So I was very grateful that Grace chose to see us during her short visit to town.

We had a blast, in no small part because Grace is great with kids!  Seph normally doesn't have anyone sitting in the back seat with her (I love the color green, except when it's around my gills, so I ride shotgun unless our guest has longer legs than I do!), so she was giggling like mad on the car ride from Grace's hotel to the zoo.  (Another blessing:  a yearly zoo pass!  With free guest passes!)  It was so nice to have someone else around who got such a kick out of my kid.  Speaking of kids, our first stop was the Children's Zoo, where Seph was happier than I think I've ever seen her, cavorting with the goats.  I'm not so sure it was a good idea to let her in a goat pen with a flowered dress on!  Luckily, it's still in one piece, and so are we, since she didn't kick up the ruckus that she did when we removed her from the sika deer at the Wild Animal Park's petting zoo a few months ago.

Seph doesn't know many zoo animal names yet, but the one she can say and recognizes instantly is "zebra".  Actually, since she is usually chomping on her pacifier like it's a silicone stogie, it comes out more like "weebvah".  So of course we took her to see them.  She begged piteously, bouncing up and down and signing, to be let into their enclosure.  I told her that when she becomes a world-famous veterinarian, I'd be more than happy to give her a boost over the hedge into the zebra pen.  By the way, with all these trips to the zoo we've been taking, I'm learning things about wildlife that I never thought I would.  Things I don't really need to know, such as, "Once you go black and white, you never go back".  Want to know what's black and white and red all over?  Let's just say, I think I know what female zebras are grateful for.

After touring the zoo for a couple of hours, we ended our evening with dinner at Hillcrest's City Delicatessen, one of two places in San Diego county where one can get decent East Coast-style food.  (Well, one out of three, if you count my place, when I'm in a cannelloni-making mood!)  Seph opened her early birthday present from her Auntie Gracie and was delighted to find a little ladybug to match her room.  (I was delighted and touched that Grace remembered, after not seeing her bedroom for a year!)  We about died laughing when Seph (who learned how to say "ladybug" for the first time tonight, btw) decided that her new little friend was hungry, and offered it a pacifier and milk from her sippy cup.  It bears mentioning that she did not offer her ladybug any of the chocolate ganache cake that we three girls shared for dessert.  I think she may be my kid after all, since she even turned down the vanilla ice cream (Dave's favorite dessert) once she saw the chocolate cake.

That's all for this Sunday...I hope your week brings you more blessings than you can remember to count!  And if it doesn't, go have some chocolate cake and ice cream.

The Days Were Just Packed

Does anyone else remember the old "Laverne and Shirley" series episode where Laverne says grace? 

God is great
God is good.
Thank you, God
For this...food. (pronounced to rhyme with "good".  V. funny, but guess you had to be there.)

I am almost too stuffed to stay up and write, because this has been the weekend of food, glorious food!  Oh yes, and wonderful friends =)  Who came to visit and so we had to go out for yummy food!

Dave's old Chicago buddy P. is in the process of moving to soCali, about 30 minutes north of us.  We'd planned to meet for an earlyish dinner on Friday evening when I suddenly remembered (think: sound effect of record stopping abruptly) that there was no way, no how I was going to miss standing in line for the paper bracelet that would allow me to stand in yet another line for my [pprecioussss] Harry Potter book later that evening.  Not only did I get to leave Seph at home to torture Daddy and his friend, but I got to read a book in line that I've been waiting for.  I got 199 pages read before my turn came up, and managed to get lucky enough to draw a #7 badge, assuring me of being in the first group to get our books.  A delicious, if late, dinner out followed. 

I got to stay up late reading and sleep in before P. arrived back at our house on Saturday with his girlfriend, D.  She's the loveliest person, which is a good thing since we were wedged in the backseat of my car together so tightly that she may be carrying my child.  (D., at least you have a nice small nose and non-frizzy hair!)  We all had a great time meandering around Ellen Browning Park at La Jolla Cove. 

The weather was (naturally) gorgeous...this is San Diego, after all!  I don't know about you, but I simply can't be unhappy when I'm anywhere near the water.  The breeze off the ocean was very refreshing, which was great for our nice long walk, since we'd stuffed ourselves silly at a Mexican restaurant across from the Cove.

I'm apparently too old to stay up even a little bit past my bedtime, because by the time we got back home, I collapsed into a 40-minute nap.  Then it was onto food again, this time to a tri-tip sandwich supper hosted by a couple from our UU church.  Seph gorged herself even more than she had at lunch...I think I smell a growth spurt on its way!  (I think I'm about to smell more than that, too!)  Dessert included a delicious homemade vanilla ice cream.  I have only one problem with homemade ice cream- in my experience, it leads to homemade cellulite!

Today after I got back from church, we met with P. and D. again and drove downtown to Seaport Village, to a great cafe right on the water.  Props to Dave, who to my memory has never made reservations in the five years we've been together.  There's nothing like an ocean view- all I had was a tuna sandwich, but it was fabulous.  The only  drawback to the day was that I'd worn pretty but uncomfortable shoes to church, and by the end of our long walk down to the Star of India (the Maritime Museum's tall ship), my dogs weren't just barking, they were whimpering.  But when you have a daughter this cute, who cares about blisters? 

(Easy for her to smile, she's wearing soft pink leather shoes with penguins on them!)

Other highlights of my weekend: seeing Seph make her stuffed Cape Hunting Dog (turns out that our zoo purchase, "Leopold", is not a hyena after all!  Thanks, Auntie J., for clearing that up!) speak in sign language!  She made him say, "more, please!" before pretending to feed him water from her sippy cup.  We also watched her name all the letters in the word "video" (we had a DVD in the player so she was reading off the TV screen).  Oh yes, and I got to sleep late this morning, too, after finishing HP#7 at 1:45 a.m.  (Thanks, Dave!)

I'm sure there's more that I'm thankful for this week that I'm just too sleepy to think about at the moment.  But I figure it's more important to ralize that one's blessings count than to accurately count one's blessings.   Just some food for thought.  Have a wonderful week!

Pray Drive

Anyone remember Robert de Niro's character in "Analyze This"?  For those of you who've not seen this very funny (IMHO) movie, he plays a Mafia don who's having a nervous breakdown but can't afford to show weakness in front of the other wise guys.  In one of my favorite scenes, he tearfully tells his psychiatrist (played by Billy Crystal), who he's actually had muscled into helping him and sworn to secrecy on pain of wearing cement shoes, "I got stress!".

Me, too.  Where do I start?  With my little brother, teetering on the edge of bankruptcy unless he can make a client out of a very, very rich felon?  (If you fit this description and live in the Orlando, FL area, shoot me an email and I can recommend a very fine law firm!)  How about my middle brother, who's serving in the USAF in South Korea?  Or my dad, who has Alzheimer's disease and lives by himself but is probably about to lose his driver's license if he doesn't pass his test next month? 

How about, I've been on this stupid diet since November and these last ten pounds are beginning to PISS ME OFF!!

But as the old song goes, "nobody ever stopped the rain by complaining".  And I've always tried to be grateful for the little things in my life that make me smile.  Like how my daughter wrinkles up her nose when she smiles.  When the caller ID on my phone shows a friend calling and not the Red Cross looking for blood AGAIN. When the waitress remembers that I like extra, extra lemon in my drink, and remembers it with the refills, too.  When there's an email in my inbox that isn't spam, Freecycle or a bill notification.  A good hair day.  It doesn't take much to make me happy.

But I've decided to count my blessings anyway, just to remind myself of the good life that I do have.  My way of collating them together in my head, once a week, to appreciate them, and frankly to give thanks to God for them.  I pray every day, and I'd really like to remember to say "thank you" as often as I ask "please". 

I have the bad habit of staying up much too late to write so I'll close for now, with my "thank you" of the week being a general sense of gratitude for all of my old friends.  I found a quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson that I just love: "It is one of the blessing of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them."  If you're reading this and chuckling, then you're probably someone I'm grateful for.