My Friend the French Fry

The first of the year my husband was told by his doctor that he needed to lose weight.  We decided that we would do this together and so our journey begins.  The first thing that we did was sit down with every diet book and magazine that we had in the house (we could not believe how many we had in the house) and came up with a plan.  We wrote everything down so there would be no guessing as to what we could or could not have.  This plan included making changes in the things that we were consuming.  This was first off an eye opener but also very difficult because we decided to give up some foods that I really love such as French Fries.

French fries go with everything.  You can enjoy them by themselves or with a side dish such as a hamburger, steak, fish, or even shrimp.  You can enjoy with an ice cold glass of wine, a cold beer or even champagne, whatever you like.  You can dip it in ketchup, cheese, or even fry sauce.  You can put chili or cheese on top, or even use them as a nice crunchy bed for ribs.  What other type of food is so versatile?

OMG, has this been the hardest thing for me to do.  I had no problem giving up cookies, chips, pretzels, cake, chocolate, bread and even alcohol but giving up French fries has been almost impossible.  I find myself dreaming about them.  I think about the texture, the slight taste of salt and yes even the grease that glistens on it.  I miss how four shoe string French fries (yes four is the correct number) dipped in a vanilla milk shake taste.  I can envision the crunchy salty taste of the fry mixed with the sweet taste of the milk shake, oh how my mouth is now watering.  I can hardly wait until the day that I can treat myself to this delicious combination.

Until that special day I will be content sipping on my virgin rum and diet Pepsi munching on carrot sticks dreaming about the perfect food, the French fry.

Goodbye 2011, Hello 2012

It seems that every year goes by faster than the year before and this year was no exception.  This last year feels as though it flew by.  I hope that 2012 slows down a little so that I can really enjoy every moment of it. 

Every year many people, me included, make resolutions.  I often wonder why we bother after all who keeps these resolutions.  I can’t think of one person that has ever kept a resolution.  So this year I have decided that I’m not making any resolutions or goals.  I have decided that I’m just going to continue . . .

I’m going to continue to enjoy life as much as possible.  I’m going to continue smiling at people even when they don’t smile back.  I’m going to continue to cheer my grandkids on at their activities.  I’m going to continue to enjoy spending time with my family and friends.  I’m going to continue to do silly things with my friends such as sitting on the floor with a bottle of wine and lay’s potato chips singing karaoke as loud and off key as we can.  I’m going to continue to laugh out loud when my husband does something silly like bursting out singing “I’m sexy and you know it”; after all he is the sexiest man I know.  I’m going to continue to kick butt in Wii bowling.  I’m also going to continue watching old sitcoms and enjoy every minute of it.  I’m going to continue taking naps on Sundays; I may even start taking naps on Saturday’s as well.  But most of all I’m going to continue to just be me.

As the New Year begins my wish for my family and friends is that you also continue to be you, after all that is what makes you so special and why I like you so much.  So no matter if you decide to make resolutions or not I hope that you have a great New Year and that all your dreams come true.

Empty Nest

In earlier blogs I mentioned that my daughter was getting married.  She was married about two months ago.  What a happy time but also one of the most stressful times.  It’s amazing how a wedding can bring out the worst and the best of people.  This was my second daughter to get married so I figured I was ready for this along with all the emotions that come with it. 

With my first daughter it felt so easy.  She was an easy bride and everything seemed to fall into place.  There were no problems with the planning of her wedding; everything just seemed to go so smooth.  The only issues was her new brother-in-law making out at the head table with his girlfriend and then getting extremely drunk and making an embarrassing toast.  We ended up having to have him escorted out, but what’s a wedding without the one relative that we all pretend that we don’t know and shake our heads as though to say “It’s so not like him to act this way”. 

With my second daughter things weren’t as easy but now looking back it wasn’t that bad.  My daughter was a beautiful bride, just as beautiful as my first daughter.  There were many similarities to both weddings as far as my emotions went; but when she put on her dress my emotions took over.  I started feeling as though I was losing my baby and as the night wore on the feeling got worse.  By the time the happy couple was ready to leave I felt as though my whole world was crashing down around me and this mean man was ripping my baby from my arms.  I went to give her a hug good bye and I could not let go.  My oldest daughter finally stepped in and pulled me away.  I ran to my husband and started crying, where I’m sure he was thinking “what is wrong with her”, I just couldn’t help my feelings.  The next day I was much better and ok with the fact that she was now a married woman and was a Mrs. So and So. 

Since her wedding I now feel as though we are true empty nester.  Other than her Poly Pockets, old prom dresses, and some things left over from her cosmetology school days all of her belongings have moved with her.  What used to be her bedroom is a guestroom with no hint of it ever belonging to my baby girl.  I have decided that I need to embrace this time of my life and really start figuring out who I am.  My husband and I are celebrating 30 glorious years of marriage and the great part is that we really enjoy each other more now than we did when we were first married.  We are happy to just sit together without feeling as though we have to talk.  We love being able to stay out late and not have to worry about a babysitter, getting a child to an activity, or whether or not they have had dinner; they are adults they can figure out whether they need to eat or not all on their own.

Since embracing this change in our lives my husband has his naked room (it’s his den and for the most part he isn’t naked just in his underwear), dinner is chips and salsa, cranking on music from the 70’s and 80’s is acceptable, and we can stay out as late as we want with no worries.  Oh how I love being empty nesters; we worked hard to get to this point and we are enjoying every minute of it.

When did we become so dependent on cell phones?

In the state that I live in recently a law was passed saying that you cannot drive and talk or text on a cell phone unless you use a hands free devise.  Seems like a great idea to me.   They thought about all aspects of this new law except for one thing, people are now pulling off to the side of the freeway to answer or make phone calls.  How stupid can someone be?  Who are they calling or talking to that is so important to not only risk my life but theirs?  When I heard this my first thought was “maybe DMV should make everyone pass a “How Stupid Am I” test instead of a making everyone pass an eye exam”.  I guess they don’t want to do that because in all reality how many people would really pass this test. 

With this new law I started thinking, “when did we become so dependent on being in touch with everyone that we can’t make it from one destination to another without stopping to talk on a phone, check email, or text someone”.  Maybe I’m the only person that puts my cell phone on vibrate and then forgets to check it for hours and sometimes days.  I really don’t need to be in touch with people that bad, I figure that whoever is calling me they can just wait until I get to my destination.  During Monday through Friday I’m in constant communication with people at work that when I leave I don’t want to talk, text or most certainly not check my email.

I’m going to age myself here but I remember only having one phone in the house and it was located in the kitchen.  It didn’t come with a feature to text, check email, or be able to get on the internet, we didn’t even have voice mail so if we weren’t home we didn’t know that someone had called.  To really age myself our kitchen phone was orange (such a great color) and it had a rotary dial.  Here is the most shocking thing about the orange kitchen phone, we only had to dial 5 numbers there was no such thing as speed dial, I know what you are thinking “OMG she must have been a cave person”. I didn’t live in a cave but we did somehow manage to get by without having to be in constant communication with the outside world. 

I also remember when I could go to the grocery store, doctors, library, public bathroom, or pretty much anywhere and not have to be subjected to hearing phone conversations.  It doesn’t bother me at the grocery store but come on the bathroom this is supposed to be private time; next time think about those in the next stall over, we may not want our private business to be heard around the world.

So next time that you call me leave a message because chances are my phone is on vibrate sitting on the kitchen counter or in my purse.  I’m not sure if I will ever become dependent on being in constant communication because I like my free time and I figure if it’s an emergency call my home phone, yes I still have a home phone, call me old fashioned but I just can’t seem to get rid of it.  My home phone is no longer orange and a rotary dial, it actually is cordless and I have an answering machine.

Mother of the Bride

In earlier posts I mentioned that my daughter was getting married.  One of the things that go with preparing for a wedding is to purchase the Mother of the Bride dress.  Not an easy task; at one point I thought “I’m just going to show up in shorts, T-shirt and sandals”.  But no I kept on looking and praying that the perfect dress would just appear. 

Let me tell you a little bit about the wedding so that you will understand my pain a little bit better.  The wedding is going to be in a beautiful outside location in early September in Las Vegas.  Not sure if you have ever been to Vegas in September but it is still 100 plus degrees.  The wedding planner has reassured me that we will only be outside for about 30 minutes so it shouldn’t be too bad.  Keeping all this in mind I began my search.

When I have to do any searching I usually start on the intranet.  I spent hours and hours looking at dresses in every view imaginable and in every color.  I found nothing that even remotely looked like something I would wear.  So I decided to head to a couple of stores to see what was out there.  OMG what a joke this tip was.  I couldn’t find anything. 

My last hope was a bridal shop.  As I walked in I told the sales woman what the occasion was and that it was in September so it would be hot.  She took me over to the Mother of the Bride dresses.  As I stood there going through each one I kept thinking to myself “add a large pocket book, put my hair in a bun, add nurses shoes and I’m Aunt Bee”, oh lord help me.  I guess the look on my face was enough to convince the sales woman that I wasn’t interested in any of them.  She finally suggested a special occasion dress.  She pulled a few out for me to try on.  The first one that I put only needed some flowers in my hair and I could have passed for a flower child from the 70’s.  I was starting to give up and then I saw the dress.  I asked to try it on.  She only had it in lime green, I should say puke lime green, but at least I could see how it looked on me.  I fell in love with it.  So I ordered it in lilac.

I get a call that my dress is in.  I set an appointment for alterations because unless I grew about six inches it was going to be way too long.  I arrive at my scheduled appointment, put my dress on with my shoes, and walked out of the dressing room.  The seamstress is standing behind me looking at the dress.  She tells me we need to take in the top, not something most women want to hear but it could have been worse.  She then starts rubbing my butt telling me that in her native county of Hungry the men there like their women with junk in their trunk.  She was rubbing it as though she was hoping that a genie was going to magically appear.  I kept thinking “unless you are buying me dinner do not rub my butt; that is reserved for my husband”.  She soon got back to the business at hand of pinning my dress and making the alterations.  Boy was I glad when that appointment was over.

I have since picked up my dress and I’m very happy with the way that it turned out.  So I guess getting my butt rubbed was worth it as long as my dress looks good.  After everything that I went through trying to find the perfect dress I did learn that if I’m ever looking for a new husband I’m heading to Hungry.

The Dreaded Scale, yikes!!!!

I went to the doctor on Friday for a checkup.  I’m not sure about you but I hate this more than having to eat liver and onions.  The worst part for me is getting on the “dreaded scale”.  I want to scream “don’t make me get on that thing”, but of course I don’t but I’m sure if I did I wouldn’t be the first person to do this. 

Prior to my appointment I knew that I was going to have to get on the “dreaded scale” so I searched my closet for the lightest clothes that I could find.  The lightest thing that I could find was wearing my underclothes and nothing else.  Of course this wouldn’t work because I had to go to work before my appointment and while it is casual Friday I’m pretty sure that casual does not mean wearing only underclothes and nothing else.  Not sure how that would have gone over with my boss nor would it have gone over very well at the doctors either.

So before my name is called I’m trying to think about how I can trick the “dreaded scale” into giving a lower number.  I’m thinking “ok I’m wearing light clothes, I had a small lunch and of course at this point I’m starving, I emptied my bladder.  Ok I should be at least five pounds lighter” and then I look down at my shoes, OMG I wore the heaviest pair of shoes I own.  So I’m thinking maybe I can convince the doctor that any weight gain is from my shoes.  She should buy that right, who wouldn’t?  So I start to relax again because I know that any weight gain is due to my shoes, what a relief.  I just have to convince the doctor of this, piece of cake.

My name is called and it’s time for me to go back.  I’m calm at first because I know that my shoes are the culprit for my weight issues so I walk back confident that the doctor will see that it’s my shoes and not anything that I have done wrong, I just chose the wrong shoes.  My blood pressure is taken and I’m asked a few questions and then I’m told “Ok we need to weigh you and then put you in a room”.  In my head I’m screaming “no please don’t make me do this” and I’m also thinking to myself “I’ve been coming to this doctor for 10+ years shouldn’t she be able to look at me and guess my weight?”  Guessing works just fine for me; just put on my chart 110+- that should cover it.  The nurse would not go for any of that she wanted my real weight and she wasn’t buying the shoe issue either, so I tried and it didn’t work.  At this point I realized that it’s not my shoes it’s my height, I’m just too short for my weight.  What a relief to know that I’m just short, not over weight.

After getting on the “dreaded scale” I decided that I need to make some changes and since I’m not going to grow any more I have to figure out some way  to get that number down.  So I’m going to be making more changes.  While this blog is about me and trying to discover who I am I’m going to share once in a while my struggles, victories and any other emotions I may have in what I hate to refer to as my body make over.  I’m not going to turn this into a diet blog, God knows there are plenty of those out there, but I am going to share once in a while what I’m going through and what works for me and what doesn’t work for me.  So keep reading to see how my search to discover “Who am I really” continues.

OMG, I'm Addicted to Facebook

OMG, I’m addicted to Facebook.  How did this happen, when did it happen, why did it happen?  I never meant for this to happen.  I used to laugh at people that spent so much time on Facebook, I would wonder “where do they find the time” and now it’s hard to believe that I’m one of them. 

My intentions when I signed up was to stay in touch with family, post pictures for family that live far away and to keep up with friends that I rarely get to spend time with.   It’s amazing how it starts so innocent and then grows and grows until you find yourself so addicted. 

I must have gone weeks before someone mentioned to me that I could play Mahjongg.  I was so excited because I love this game that I must have played for hours.  All too soon I was slowly being sucked in by one friend request after another.  I couldn’t let my friends down so I accepted each one.  So that is how my addiction began, pure peer pressure.

I now find myself rushing home from work to get on Facebook, after all it has been 10 hours since I last logged on and a lot can happen during that time.  As I’m typing in my email address and then my password I can feel the anticipation building with each key stroke.  I’m wondering who has posted what, how many game requests, what level each friend is on and a whole host of other emotions go on.

After logging in and reading each post I head to the games.  I spend my time planting crops, tending farm animals, cooking meals, finding hearts, chopping trees, scaring off bears, clobbering snakes, decorating my wagon, building homes and business in my city, looking for hidden objects and in my spear time playing mahjongg.  I’m so tired after all this hard work that I can’t do anything else.  How did this happen?  I love Facebook so much that I can’t even imagine ever giving it up.  If I did what would happen to my farm, frontier land, Wild West town, my city, my café and the most important where would all my hearts go and who would solve my puzzles.  The pressure to keep going is so strong that I don’t know how to stop.  I guess eventually I will have to look into Facebook rehab.