I Can't Drive or Walk All the Time.........

Sometimes, I just have to fly..........

Happy Halloween!

Come out! Come out! Wherever you are!

Yes, I admit it, my blogging has slowed down quite a bit. But, it appears that my counter is still logging visitors. Quite honestly, I'm both astonished and humbled to know that so many people stop by. People are knocking at my door and I'm not even answering. Which makes me a pretty lousy hostess. Not to mention a very rude one. I apologize. You know the old story.....I would have baked a cake if I knew you were coming. But,honestly, I don't bake. I'm not good with any activity that requires precision. Following directions is just not my thing. And, of course, there's also the whole LapBand lifestyle thing---I'm not eating cake. So, no cake. Put away your fork.

That brings me to this question----what can I give you when you stop by? Okay, okay.....I will come clean here---I need a little bit of proper inspiration. Yes, me--the girl with the gift of gab who has a seemingly endless supply of stories---I'm having a little dry spell---writer's block. Plus, of course, I want to be a model hostess. I aspire to be the blog hostess with the mostess. And, I'll own up to it---I'm a people pleaser. There's no shame in that, is there? Wanting to make people happy or more comfortable or wanting to enhance the lives of others is a good thing. I'm sure of it.

Most people tell me they stop by my blog just to see what's going on, to find out how I'm doing, to pass the time or to get a little bit of entertainment. And, that makes me happy. But, I often wonder if there's a person or persons out there who truly needs to know more about something---anything. And, they keep coming back to see if they can get it and find themselves leaving empty handed or worse yet--uninspired. And, that makes me sad.

You see, I'm a writer. Not a writer-writer. I mean, I don't get paid to write. I just write. So, that makes me a writer. And, sometimes we writers are so entrenched in words and how they sound and how they make people feel, that we get a little freaked out when good words don't spill out of our fingertips. Why, just last night, my very talented and sweet 20 year old nephew sat across the table from me and said "Aunt Judi, I wrote an outline for a book." The boy is smart---he knows how to get my attention. He labored over the outline. But, he tells me that he hasn't been able to start writing. Now, an engineer--like my husband--doesn't get it. An engineer figures that if you do the outline then the rest is easy. But, a writer gets it. My nephew's mother---my sister---said that maybe he should go to a writer's commune. Sounds nice. But, even if he did go to a writer's commune (or whatever they call those places where you just lock yourself away and write), if he could not find his "place" in his mind then he might as well just listen to his ipod while he's locked away in the commune. Which, come to think of it---that's what most 20 year olds would be doing when they're just hanging out--whether they're at a writer's commune with the most promising bards of our century scribing away in the adjacent rooms or if they are sitting in their bedrooms while their mothers cook and their fathers mow the grass. It's about living your life and finding inspiration in the moments of your life that are the most rewarding---to a writer.

This whole inspiration thing is a fickle thing. What will inspire me or my nephew or any writer to write? And, even more importantly---what will inspire us to write something that will actually inspire others or will make a difference in their days (or even their lives!)? These are the very questions that quietly speak to me. It's not like I walk around thinking about this all day. No, no. I do many other things. I don't peer around corners and think "now, there's something inspiring, I have to write about it". Although that very thing sort of happened the other day. A dear coworker and I took a quick little jaunt during our lunch hour into one of the more seedy neighborhoods to run an errand. And, right there, within plain sight--I witnessed a drug transaction. A young man was standing in the doorway of a boarded up store front. An older man crossed the street, approached the younger man. The younger man handed him something. They exchanged a few words and then they both vanished. "Look, it's a drug transaction!" I told my coworker. "Wow, I would have never caught that! You can write about that in your blog!" she exclaimed. Quite honestly, I wasn't inspired by it. More than anything, I was terrified by it. We got out of there pretty quickly. But, as I reflected on it---it wasn't the actual drug transaction that stayed with me in any important way. It was my coworker's reaction. I was touched that she sees that side of me---that part of me that finds stories in moments that other people don't capture. She gets it that the daily---sometimes mundane, sometimes exciting----parts of life inspire me. Which brings me back to this whole best blog hostess thing. I really want to know what you come here to read or to find. Oh, yes, I know.....I'm getting way too pretentious here....actually asking something of you! As if I have readers! (I'm having another Carrie Bradshaw moment!!!) But, honestly, a writer's dry spell is different than let's say a football player's dry spell. It's not that you can't write. It's just that you can't write. It's not a lack of motivation or skill. It's the inspiration thing. Motivation and inspiration are 2 very, very different things. And, sometimes there's so much in your head---so many words are swimming around in a writer's brain---that the inspiration can't break through it all. You feel like you have sooo much to say. You don't know where to begin. You need clutter control. It's like you need one of those organizational professionals to come to tell you what's important and what's not. I think that maybe what's plaguing me. That and the fact that I really do want to make a difference. My LapBand journey and the changes in my life have inspired me greatly. Plus, I feel so blessed that this blog is actually read! Now, I don't want to sound corny or big-headed here but now that I have your attention--I really want my journey to somehow inspire you. Even if that's not possible---I want you to walk away with more than what you came with. That's where YOU come in. Ask me some questions. No, no, not like a Dear Abby thing. I want to know what you want to know. I want to know if you want or need to hear about what I am eating. Or, if you want the gory details of how they filled my band. Or, maybe you are curious about specific changes in my life because of the band. Or, maybe my ramblings about my life and times as a banded person---regardless of how non-lapband oriented they are---is what you came here for. Whatever the case---let me know. Maybe I'm looking for purpose along with that inspiration......

My journey......it's not all about me. I don't want to travel alone. Hop in.

Pigging Out...........

Lap Band Style..........


Yes, we made our yearly pilgrimage to the farm. I'm a city girl, you know. But, once a year, we travel the 45 minutes to my version of a farm. They grow things and have animals and stuff. Well, I know for sure that they have pumpkins and apples. And, they have this little petting zoo. Yep, it's a farm. They also have lots of yummy food stands---sausages, kettle corn, nachos, french fries, ice cream, hot dogs, cheeses, carmel apples, funnel cakes. You name it, they fry it, cover it with goo or melt butter on it. In addition to that, they have several lovely, to-die-for shopes on the farm selling crafs, antiques, china, Christmas decor, garden stuff---oh, you know---MY kind of stuff. However, in order to get from the parking lot to the stores---you have to walk through the pumpkin display area, the petting zoo area, the cornstalk maze area and then directly through the food stands. Anyway, you know me, the city girl that I am, as soon as I get out of my vehicle, I am on one mission and one mission only----I want to get into those shops. Yeah, yeah, the pumpkins are nice...not sure why anyone would want to grow so many. Oh, yeah, a cute little goat...seen one seen them all. The cornstalk maze looks fun.....not my thing. But, then.....OOOOH, the smells....do I EVEN need to tell you about the smells of kettle corn popping, french fries frying and sausage simmering in peppers and onions? Like Emeril says "too bad you don't have Smellivision" or in this case....smellacomputer. A world of tantalizing delectable temptations lies between me and my true destination. In my pre-lap band days, I'd loose my willpower somewhere between the overhormoned pumpkin and the snaking line to enter the cornstalk maze. Thus, delaying my visit to the shops and lightening my wallet---preventing me from buying some extra things I have to have but definitely do not need. And, of course, it would also cut into my shopping time. There's no way any shop owner worth his or her cash receipts who would allow a woman balancing a large drink, a bag of kettle corn, a plate of fries, a dripping sausage sandwich and a funnel cake into their quaint little shops. That food was standing between me and where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do. But, not today.

Hey John----you're talking about my body.....right?

P.S. I am a ONE-derland (which means that I have left the 200's and am now in the ONE hundreds)

Let's take a look at how far I've traveled.........

Now, I'm sure you remember this picture........a classic "BEFORE PICTURE". I mean, let's face it.....who would share this picture unless it was most definitely a BEFORE PICTURE? Yep, I was heading out the door for surgery........5 am August 10, 2007. The only good thing I can say (about the way I look) is that I have a tan and my painted crocks are cute.

So, here I am 9 weeks later........October 14, 2007. I'm getting ready to head out the door with my family. Things are getting and feeling better---for sure! With about 65 more pounds to loose, I do have a ways to go! But, at least I'm heading in the right direction! Do you like my new lipstick? It's my new Fall shade.....James at the Estee Lauder counter at Boscov's picked it......he said it's just fab with my Mocha Writer Lip Pencil!
And, look at that Fall decorating........

Thank you for following me on this journey. You are keeping me from
heading down that one way, dead-end street..........

An OVERBEARING Bitch or a BITCH who is OVERBEARING?

You know how it is when someone says something to you and you just can't think about anything else for next few hours? Well, that's what happened to me tonight. Now, I admit, sometimes my brain wraps itself around the most insignificant detail and before I know it, I'm analyzing it, dissecting it and vowing to spend the rest of my life researching it. Luckily, something else comes along sooner or later to steal my attention and I rid myself of whatever it was that was so damn important. And, I'm pretty sure that's what will happen with this. But, here's the thing----my daughter tells me that I am overbearing. Yes, overbearing. Me? No way. So, I've been thinking about the word OVERBEARING. And, of course, I've also been wondering about how in the world my own daughter would think that--- I----of all people, am overbearing. The insanity of it, I know!
But, I'm also thinking about the entire feeling of the word OVERBEARING.

Now, let me explain how this came about. My lovely, sweet daughter Toni is going to her Homecoming formal this weekend with her new beau. From what I know, this is her first "real" boyfriend. A very nice young man. Yes, he's cute too. And smart. He won the hearts of my sister and my niece--not an easy fete--by making a special effort to meet them. And, even Carmen thinks he's nice---even though he's not Italian (as far as we know....we haven't done a background check....). And, it seems like he comes from a very good family....his father called him right there as he stood on my porch in front of me at 10:30 at night to tell him it was time to come home. If it was planned to impress me--it was masterful. In any case--he does not go to the same high school as Toni so let's just say that she is importing her date. So, considering the situation, I thought it best that I contact the young man's mother and fill her in on what's going on. In our neck of the woods, these formals and the events surrounding them have a certain protocol. Naturally, there's the dress, the shoes, the jewelry, the make up, the nails and the hair. And, in our neighborhood---there's the group who will be going together, the home that will host the pictures, the mode of transportation, the restaurant where they will eat, the dance itself and then the after party. It's very orchestrated. The dress is, of course, of great importance. The stores around here keep very accurate records on which dresses are sold to which girls from which schools. So, even if you are in love with a dress and your mother has cash in her hand--if another girl has the dress, you are out of luck. If that store would sell the same dress to 2 girls who are going to the same dance, they might as well kiss their business goodbye. It's a law around these parts. Then, there's the shoes. Now, I like this part. I won't go into great detail about what we went through for the shoes. But, I'll say this---several of my wonderful, empathetic coworkers devoted precious time to researching the perfect shoes (if you must know--we needed brown patented leather). In fact, in a moment of sheer desperation, when I mentioned to them that I was thinking of secretly re-habbing a pair of her shoes from a previous dance, each of them showed up at my door and offered their advice--NOOOOOO! Like I said---I was desperate. Thankfully, after a weary weeknight spent shopping, we returned home with not one-- but two pair of the perfect shoes. The jury on which pair she will ultimately wear is still out. It's a tough choice. We're shoe stressed.
Anyway, back to me being an overbearing person. So, like I said--I called the young man's mother. But, I ended up leaving a message. So, she called me back tonight. In the meantime, the smart young man text messaged Toni to warn her that his mother was calling. Isn't technology helpful? So, Toni conveniently stationed herself at the top of the staircase that leads into our kitchen since I was having the conversation there. Now, I know I am talkative. My Grandma Carr kissed the Blarney Stone. That's not a bad thing. Right? I'm friendly, I'm fun, I love rock and roll, my heart is in the right place and I am nice---even though maybe I can be wee bit loud. But, geez, I really work hard to make sure I am kind and considerate. Overbearing---never. Anyway....back to this conversation with the boyfriend's mother. Let's face it, she needed to know what was going on. So, I told her. I gave her the facts---in a friendly way. I invited her and her husband to our home, I explained the schedule, assured her of our involvement in all of it and I answered her questions. And, I told her how nice I thought her son was. Now, does that sound overbearing? Evidently, my daughter thought it was. And, you know what else---I cleared my throat a few times during the conversation. Not good. Gets on her last nerve.
Yes, I know what you're thinking---our children are supposed to feel this way about their mothers. And, anyway---who cares? ME! Yes, I know, we mothers are supposed to expect this. But, not this mother. Anyway, besides all of that and besides the possibility that I must have real self image issues, I am stuck on this word OVERBEARING. All night long, I've been thinking about it. And I'm embarrassed to admit it, but---each time I think of a woman who is OVERBEARING.......I think of a woman who is overweight. Someone who "throws her weight around". I don't have an image of a thin person. An overbearing person is NOT a thin person. An overbearing person is a FAT person. So, that got me to thinking about what I might call a thin woman who acts in an OVERBEARING fashion? Why, a BITCH, of course. So, I wonder......next year when I am not fat and I act OVERBEARING......will I be a BITCH? Hmmmm.......that might be one thing I won't like about being thin. But, I'll give it a whirl......

Doing Happy Hour with my LapBand.......

So, last Friday, I decided it was time to return to one of my favorite activities---meeting friends for Happy Hour. To be honest, I don’t even know the last time we did this. Well, I think they’ve done it recently. But, not me. One of our regular watering holes is a small, local place---it’s one of those “Cheers” kind of places…..where everyone knows your name. You know what I mean……it’s not the kind of place to go for a drink, sit in a dark booth and have some serious conversation. It’s a place to chat with my kids’ kindergarten teacher, talk with old neighbors, find out what’s happening with old friends and share news with half the community I grew up in. As you can tell--- it’s a place to go if you want to talk and laugh and get caught up on gossip. The perfect stop at the end of a long week. Like their sign says….A Place Where Good Friends Gather.

Now, in my pre-LapBand life, my Happy Hour drink was always---gin and tonic with lime. And, at this particular bar—where the owners are dear friends…..they know Judi drinks gin and tonic with lime. Sometimes even double lime. And, it’s not just any gin, thank you. They know that it’s Tanqueray. But, as you know---I cannot drink carbonated stuff. The gin is okay. The lime too. But, put a shot of gin with a lime in a body that doesn’t eat too much and those good friends would be carrying me out the door. Not the thing to do in a place where everyone knows your name! Ah, the challenge of doing Happy Hour after LapBand.

Carol, the owner’s sister and Tessa, an adorable, sweet young woman, were bartending when I got there. “Oh my God, you lost a shit ton of weight!” Carol greeted me (as only a bartender could!) as I climbed on my bar stool next to Pam, a Friday Happy Hour regular. “OOOOH!” Tessa and Pam cooed in unison. Beaming, I accepted their compliments as Kate, one of my wonderful, spirited Happy Hour partners, walked towards us. “Doesn’t she look great?” Kate chimed in as she greeted me with a hug. “What is your secret?” Pam gasped. Hmmm. The moment of truth.
“Well, I had Weight Loss Surgery,” I said. “OOOOH….” they all nodded. “I had LapBand….” I explained. I could see their minds going. Pam leaned forward as if she wanted to know more. But, before anyone knew it, Tessa was dialing the phone. “You have to talk to my Uncle Mike” she told me as she dialed. “He is thinking about it. He really needs it…..he eats sooooo much…..Uncle Mike……here talk to Judi……she just had the LapBand……” she handed me the phone across the bar. As I was chatting with Mike on the phone, the owner walked in. Carol loudly called over to him, pointing to me—“Look at Judi! Look at Judi! She had LapBand Surgery.” Jim meandered over as I sat chatting with Uncle Mike (who I came to learn is a 57 year old man who says he doesn’t even know he’s eating!) and gave me a huge kiss on the cheek “You look great baby! Give her a gin and tonic on me!” he called over to his sister. Immediately, I put my finger up and asked Mike to excuse me for a moment….”No, I can’t have that….” I called over to Carol. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jim’s body slump against the wall…..”What? No gin and tonic for Judi?” he asked, exasperated. “No tanqueray?” he asked in utter disbelief. “No, no tonic…” Kate answered for me since I was once again caught up in a conversation with Uncle Mike. “Oh, okay…..give Judi a gin and lime then……” he told his sister. Again, I tried to intervene but the conversation with Uncle Mike, the unconscious eater who was considering LapBand, took an intense turn. How could I tell Uncle Mike to hold on as he told me the most intimate details of his life. So, I watched as Carol poured the tangueray into a short, stalky glass. Then, as she squeezed the lime, she looked over to me “Ice?” she asked. I nodded affirmatively and gestured for her to put lots of ice……lots of ice........
And, thus began my first LapBanded Happy Hour.

A Postcard from The Edge......as my journey continues

Wish you were here!

As you can see from the picture, I'm still on the road. A little weary from my travels (thus the bad hair day). I need a Spa Day! So, I plan to stop at the next exit for a little R&R. See you then!

It's the simple things, really.........

As I stumbled past our family-central calendar on the fridge early this morning, I realized that September ends today. Tomorrow is October. As I waited for my water to boil for tea, I thought about how quickly the past two months have gone by and how much my life has changed in that very short period of time. So many things have changed. And, as simple as the changes may seem...... they feel like extravagant luxuries. Thanks to the hardest simple decision I ever made......my life is simpler.
Because......
-I can shave my legs in the shower
-I can bend down to tie my shoes
-I can get out of my car with my purse.....all in one move
-I can choose between more than 10 pair of the same black pants
-I don't NEED the banister to get up the steps
-I can turn over in bed in one move
-Every pair of underwear in my drawer fits
-I feel hope. Real hope. Not the kind of hope I have to talk myself into. The kind of hope that when you open your eyes in the morning, it's just there. The kind of hope that you feel when you try on a pair of pants that are too tight and you know you WILL fit into them soon. It's just that good.....

For the first time in many, many years---my heart truly feels like it can't wait to WELCOME every waiting minute, day, week, month.....and beyond! So, bring on October!

I'm ready!!!
Me and my Lapband.

I'm the IT GIRL of Blogland today........

There's a game of IT TAG in Blogland. And, it appears that I've been tagged by my friend, the dear and lovely Daffodil (right before she ran off to the beach, I might add!). Just like the childhood game, it means that I'm "It". The Blogland version of IT TAG goes like this---if you are tagged that means that you have to tell 7 random things about yourself. Yes, it's true....another forum for me to talk about me. Thank you, dear Daff (hope you are enjoying the beach).

Let's start with getting one thing out there--- since this is my blog and I make the rules, I have decided that when this game is played here, I am to be known as THE IT GIRL. I don't like to be called "IT". Never did. So, I am the IT GIRL. Got it? Now, step 2 of the game requires me to find 7 new bloggers to TAG. Naturally, I'd love to follow the rules if I could. But, here's the deal.....I don't know 7 other bloggers. I've been a bit of a snobbish blog neighbor. I've not been going out there and mingling with the other bloggers. It's not that I don't want to meet them. And, it's not that I don't want to play by the rules. It's just that.....well.....besides the fact that I don't know them......how would I be able to choose which 7 to pick if I did know them? I mean, choosing IT GIRLS sounds like a big job. Probably like picking BOND GIRLS. Well, maybe not. But, still......

Speaking of picking and choosing people to play a game---do they still let kids pick other kids for their teams in Gym class? I wonder…..who came up with that hideous idea? And, for THAT matter…..what possessed thousands of educators to embrace that as a best practice? Wasn’t that just the most god-awful feeling….. standing up against the gymnasium wall while Billy and Debbie decides who will be chosen? Naturally, Debbie will choose her best friend. And, of course, Billy will pick the best athlete. Then, Debbie will choose her second best friend. Then, Billy will pick the next best athlete. Their strategy would go on until there’s just a few kids standing there. ( I can still feel that sting….even now, some 30+ years later) At that point, they would look over their prospects with some measure of disgust. Debbie will look at Billy and let out a loud and heavy sigh. “Okay, I’ll take Sandy if you take Edward….” Makes me wonder how many Sandys and Edwards there are in the world who are still trying to live with that memory! Or, worse yet……how many other nameless kids are still suffering from being the last ones standing and having the teacher say “Okay, YOU go over there and YOU go over there…..”??? No one picked them to be on their team. Sometimes they even ate lunch alone. Walked home alone. Sat on the bus alone. Yes, the world can be a ruthless, painful place when you’re wading in the shark infested waters of growing up. We all remember those times, those kids, those situations. Sometimes, we can even remember how it felt....because it happened to us. And, sometimes, even as adults....it happens. It's easy to forget how fragile we all are. So, let's see......since this is my BLOG and I am the IT GIRL and I make the rules......I'm going to make a quick change here before I tell 7 random things about me. I am tagging everyone who reads this blog. Yep, that's right.....every person who I know reads it and every invisible person who reads it. YOU ARE ALL TAGGED! That means that after you read this, you have to stand up from your computer, walk over to the first person you see and say something very nice. And, I mean, very nice. I don't care who that person is. Even if it's your arch enemy (yes, YOUR ARCH enemy!) Make sure you get a smile from the person. Now, if there is no one within a 50 ft. radius of you or you can't get up from your chair then your are excused from it for the moment. However, the rule for you is that you must carry this out with the very next person you see. Again, no matter who it is. Yes, that means if the next person you see is your boss, you still have to do this! Just make one person smile and you'll be giving a gift to many more. It is IT TAG at it's finest. Think about IT.

7 Random Things About ME

1. I am left handed

2. The first time I saw my husband was in May of 1970 outside of St. Catherine's of Siena Parish in Beechview. We were waiting for our respective sisters (who were making their First Holy Communion) to come out of the school and parade into the church. He was 13, I was 11. My aunt thought he was cute. My mother agreed. I was in love with another.

3. I do not instinctively know my left from my right. My sisters don't either. My father and uncle ( my dad's brother) ----they don't either! Family trait.

4. I did not get my Drivers' License until a few months after I got married. My husband taught me to drive. I failed my test the first time because he did not teach me how to do a 3 point turn. He told me "no one in my family ever failed their driver test." That was our first official fight of our married life. I am still a little upset with him about all of that........

5. My favorite food is Eggplant Parmagiano.

6. I do not know how to whistle.

7. I LOVE MY LAPBAND!

P.S. I'd love to know 7 Random Things About YOU!!!!!!

Staying beautiful and smart are not my only jobs, you know........no wonder I'm exhausted.....

The excitement never ends here in my kitchen.........

My life----HIGH MAINTENANCE doesn't even begin to cover it.........

Sometimes you just have to end the day with a little attitude.
A side of wine wouldn't hurt.

WHINE...........
(I'm from Pittsburgh.....I add the H)

A detour......down memory lane.....

For anyone who has been reading my blog since the beginning----you've been privy to a few stories about my undergraduate days spent in a sleepy little Pennsylvania college town. Most people like to tell stories about their wilder days, I guess. It sort of excuses us for our current not-so-wild selves. It's not that I was all that wild.....I was just young. YOUNG being the operative word. Just don't ask some of my dear college friends about the "I was not all that wild" part....they'll tell you all kinds of tales to disprove it. When JC did that. Or, JC did this. Or, JC did that. (BTW---I am "JC".....my "college name") In fact, I have one very successful, sophisticated friend who still tells one particular story about me that she can never finish.....it makes her laugh so hard she snorts. Pretty soon, now that we're nearing the 1/2 century mark, she'll probably have bladder problems when she tries to tell that story. Maybe she should just quit before that happens. Yes---it's a funny story. But, honestly, you really had to be there. Which, of course, she and only a handful of other conscious people could say they were there. God knows what these people think when she shares the infamous "JC-Black Nostril-Baby Oil-Party" story and then starts to snort. But, even if she does stop telling that story--- she seems to have an entire arsenal of JC stories. She just reminded me of one last week. It was one of those ones that I actually owed her an apology for. Better late than never, I say. Yes, I was young. I was busy creating memories for myself and evidently my friends......
But, isn't that what being young is all about.......?

So, this past weekend, we took our dear daughter to visit the sleepy little college town and campus where I spent my younger and more adventuresome days.......

This is where we lived......my girlfriends and I. Where they rolled up the carpets to exercise while I sat by and smoked. The deck is new since 1980. The paint job looks the same. And, the "No Parking" sign is exactly as I remember it.


This is the scenic view of the little town.......from a quaint little restaurant that used to one of our favorite college dive bars. Back then, I don't think we really noticed the breathtaking view. When I sent the pictures to my sophisticated friend (the one who tells the story and snorts.....who I love dearly) she had no recollection of the place. Hmmmmm. Wonder what that is all about.......



A view of the campus....nestled in the valley......over to the right of the picture. It's changed so much. The years have been good to it. It's lovely.




Carmen and I on the deck of what used to be the dive bar we all loved so well (the place my dear sophisticated friend can't remember). Times sure have changed since the 70's.....see the NO SMOKING sign! Carmen and I sat on the deck overlooking the glorious view...sipping wine (me), beer (Carmen) and Sprite (Toni). Me--thinking how beautiful the day was, how much fun it would be to sit there with all my dear friends from those by-gone days and just how lucky I was. Carmen--probably hoping the waitress would come back quick so he could order another beer and praying that the Steelers would win on Sunday. Toni--texting the new boyfriend and wondering which one of my friends was the star of the story that I told as we passed the new Student Union and pointed to a particular spot. (I'll never tell........)





Sometimes we take detours on our journey. Detours---the sweetest part of the road.


In Lapband news---- I go to have my Lap Band filled for the first time in the morning. I'm a bit nervous. No, I'm very nervous. Scratch that. I'm nervous, scared and excited. Yes, that sums it up.

Farewell, my last FAT summer........

I know, I know.....that word.....FAT.....it's an ugly word. It just makes you feel.....well.....fat. Perhaps I should have used the word OBESE. But, yuk.....no double yuk. That word feels even worse. Even though OBESE is more of a clinical/medical term and FAT is just a lowly adjective (could also be a noun....), the big O seems to sting quite a bit more than the F word. Although they both connote something not real pleasing, I can actually think of some nice things about the word FAT. Think.....a fat wad of cash, a fat pay check, a big, fat steak.....you get my drift. But, I can't think of one nice thing to say about the word OBESE. Except, of course.......thanks to being OBESE, I got my Lapband. Being just plain FAT would have never given me the opportunity. Which brings me to answering a few questions that people have asked me over the past few weeks. Here goes:

-Knowing what I know now about this surgery and having been through this part of it, would I do it again? Yes. No question. In a heartbeat. For sure. Hell YES.
-Do I miss Diet Coke? Nope. But, I'll bet it misses me. If Coca-Cola goes belly up this year, it's probably because of me.
-What has been the hardest part? The pain in the beginning. But, it's a distant memory.
-What has been the best part? The feeling of hope that I have. And, getting dressed each day. -Am I hungry? Not really. I have moments that I think I am but they pass quickly.
-Is it hard to cook for my family and not be able to eat it? No. It's wierd but it's actually made my life easier. Not sure why. But, when I do, I'll let you know.
-Is it hard to go out to dinner and not be able to eat anything I want? Not so far. And, I am a really cheap date.
-Can I drink wine? Moderation. Like everything else.
-Any advice to anyone considering having lap band? Don't wait.
-What have my 2 children been fighting about for the past 15 years? They each accuse the other of not being nice to the other one. Same fight. Takes on different themes. But, when you strip away at it....it's the same fight.

My Lap band journey continues down the roads of Autumn!


(looking forward to all you being with me!)

HELLO AUTUMN!!!!

The agony of post partum.......200+ lbs gone......

Exactly 22 years ago, Carmen and I ate a pizza. It was a night just like tonight. Not quite summer. Not quite autumn. I was 9 months and 11 days pregnant. There had been an earthquake in Mexico. My lovely Jewish neighbor made me a special soup to bring on labor. Yet, nothing seemed to rouse the spunky little boy who was cuddled inside of me. Funny thing, for months before that, he made his presence known. In the beginning, he was the reason why the traffic cop at West Liberty and Pioneer Avenue got to know me. I was the woman in the grey Omni who would open the door to vomit every morning as I sat waiting for his whistle to blow. After that, I became the woman who didn't fit behind the wheel. And, then, I became the woman no one wanted to see arrive.........I instilled panic in the hearts of many. I was so huge that everyone feared they would have to deliver a baby at any moment. The question of "when are you going to have THAT baby?" started during my 6th month. Yes, I had to endure being the largest pregnant woman anyone had ever seen on this side of North America for 3 + months. But, nothing....not Jewish soup, not a Mexican earthquake, not even a Pub & Pizza pizza made a difference that September night in 1985. So, I gave up. My boy was staying put. As I maneuvered my massive body into bed that night, I accepted the fact that this wasn't going to the be the night that I was going to have my 62 lb baby.

But the next day was. Vincent Francis Mancuso entered screaming at 5:03 pm on September 20, 1985. Of course, he wasn't 62 lbs. Much to everyone's shock, he wasn't even 8 lbs. ( I begged Carmen to tell everyone I delivered a 13 lb baby!) So, my new son left the rest of that pregnancy weight with me. But, he was healthy and feisty and his nose hooked when he wailed---reminding me of my mother---and he had five fingers and toes. We were thrilled and ecstatic and madly in love. Nothing else mattered much.....especially those 50+ leftover pounds. There was a baseball field around the corner, an adorable red, yellow and green room waiting for him, and 3 aunts, 2 uncles, a Nana, a Grandfather and a Grandmother eager to welcome him. There were baseball hats, soccer games, cousins, holidays, special movies, first days of school, vacations, friends, dances, parties and so much more ahead of us. Our life as a family was calling. Even if that meant I had to waddle through it.

This evening, I realized something as I sat at the dinner table listening to my almost 22 year old son and his 16 year sister continue the same fight they have been having for the past 15 years. My son was visiting us. He had come for dinner. He doesn't live here anymore. He doesn't kiss me goodnight. I don't get to watch him sleep. He doesn't throw his socks on the living room floor. He doesn't leave empty wrappers on the coffee table. I don't hear his raucous laughter at 6pm while he watches "The Simpsons". All 200+ lbs of him are gone. I lost my post partum weight. That was the shortest 22 year diet I have ever been on. Went too fast. Happened in the blink of an eye. I'd like to have it back, please. Weight and all.

Take asprin, drink plenty of fluids and rest.........

The common cold. But, when you have it.....there's nothing common about it. Yes, I have a cold. My first cold of my banded life. And, I can't take my favorite cold med--AlkaSeltzer Cold. It's fizzy. Fizzy is a no-no in the Lapband world. Oh, I'm just pitiful. Coughing. Sneezing. Red nose. People give me the HEX sign as they walk by me. Even people I don't know. In fact, today at the office, our new heating and air conditioning guy crossed his fingers and stepped back. That was right before he told me that I control the temperature for 6 of my coworkers' offices and our copy room. Not a job I signed up for, trust me. Perhaps if my mind wasn't compromised by this nasty cold, I would have found some kind of perverse thrill in my power to increase or decrease the comfort level of my coworkers. Piss me off at a staff meeting.....I'll melt you! Don't compliment my new shoes.....ice will form on your eyelashes! Instead, in my altered state, I had visions of my colleagues with bee-bee guns pointed at me as they forced me into adjusting the thermostat. Why me? Why do I have to be the one who controls the climate? Why can't I control something else? It's hard enough trying to figure out what to eat let alone deal with that!

Life is what happens.........

I think John Lennon said something like "life is what happens when you are busy making other plans". If it wasn't John then maybe it was me. Honestly---I really could have said it. I feel that way especially on Sunday nights. I'm not sure if my Lapband made me smarter or what. But, I've come to the conclusion that I set myself up. All week long, I look around at the chores, the projects and the errands that need attended to and say "I'll do that over the weekend." Of course in between all those things, I also need to wedge in a few other things like--family, fun and sleep. And, now that I'm paying more attention to myself and taking more care with what I am putting into my body---I also have to dedicate some time to menu planning. Which, of course, means grocery shopping, prep work and cooking. Plus, I'm doing this walking program. Which means that I do have to walk. So, I gotta fit that in there too. And, of course, now that it's getting a little closer to the end of summer, I have to banish summer from my outdoor decor and begin the transformation to a more autumn look. My neighbors expect it. And, they worry if I don't do it. And, then there's just the regular stuff that comes up--my family is hungry, my phone rings, there's an especially interesting program on TV, the dishes are piled in the sink, the newspaper needs read, my daughter needs eyeliner, my favorite bra went missing, my husband needs lectured. Just the regular stuff. Is it any wonder that I started this weekend with a very messy bedroom and ended the same way? I set myself up....I tell you!
And, it gets worse.......read on.....
I read a few paragraphs of a report in some magazine while I was waiting in line at K-Mart (the 4th store I went into this weekend and forgot tin foil). The article said that messy bedrooms cause weight gain. From the little bit that I read, the theory is that a messy bedroom interferes with sleep. And, lack of sleep is a major cause of weight gain. I'll be the first to admit that I have been very guilty of forgoing sleep in order to get things done or to sneak some time for myself or just to extend my day. And, I'll also come forward and confess that my bedroom gets very messy. So, no wonder I gained all that weight! Between loosing sleep and my messy bedroom, I managed to keep the weight loss industry and the plus size stores afloat these past 8 years. But, honestly, I didn't do it intentionally. In fact, every weekend, I planned to catch up on sleep and clean my bedroom. But, like John said---life happened.

I'd share more wisdom but it's past my bedtime........

I am a techo-DIVA Lapbander!

My enthusiasm for blogging is fueled by all of YOU.......my readers! Oh, I feel so DIVA saying that I have READERS! Who do I think I am? Carrie Bradshaw? Do I really have readers? Well, apparently I do, thank you very much! I have some very outgoing readers who love to post comments on my blog.....thank you so much! And, I have readers who like a little privacy so they prefer to send me emails about my blog.....notes I love to get! And, I have readers who prefer to call me and leave voice mails telling me they enjoy my blog.....love hearing your voice! I also have readers from my various online groups who post comments about my blog on the forums.....which I love....it's great to see my name in print! I have other readers who tell me in person that they are reading my blog......they can tell from my smile how that makes me feel! Plus, I have some very bashful readers.....they don't say a word. But, I know they are there. Or, maybe my head is just getting way too big and I think I have this huge reader base! But, now I will know.....I have a counter! Check it out down at the bottom of the page.....do you see it? Isn't it cute? I still won't know WHO these bashful readers are.....I'll just know they were here. They'll sort of leave "footprints" on my blog! Isn't my technical savvy just astonishing......I have a counter! Did you hear me, oh genius son of mine? YOUR mother has a counter! Yeah, me....YOUR MOTHER! When I started my blog, I asked my dear son with the degree in Human Computer Interaction (I'm human, I have a computer that I want to interact with) to put a counter on my blog. "Okay, mom". Didn't happen. And, I continued to ask him weekly. "Okay, mom". Didn't happen. In fact, just last night when he came home for dinner and I cooked him an amazing meal (even though I DO NOT EAT), gave him a goodie bag with a few gifts (and it wasn't even his birthday yet!) as well as a bag full of new clothes (no socks!), I asked him again. "Okay, mom". He left with a full stomach, his goodie bag and his new clothes. I was left with dirty dishes and a daughter who was hopping mad at her brother for doing something naughty to her computer. But, no counter. So, I figured....if I have the ability raise a son who is a techno wiz then I can certainly figure out how to put a counter on my blog. All it took was a little confidence and a little time! Amazing the things we can do when we really want to. I proved it!

P.S. Please wish this Techo-DIVA Lapbander luck getting BRUCE tix at 10 am tomorrow........

Today in Bandland.......some random thoughts.....

It's mid-week. Wednesday. Mid-way through the first "typical" week of my banded life. I'm back at work. I'm back in heels. Back to rush hour, meetings and making dinner at 8 pm.
Here are some things I am thinking about on this first Wednesday of my first typical week of my banded life.......


Sing it Emmy Lou!


Words to live by.......


I want this outfit.........50 lbs from now!


Nice legs......they make me smile. Smiling is good.


It's good to be Queen.


Inspired.......

Just because......


32 Years later.......I need another ticket......

Getting into my pants?

(NOTE:  The system is giving me formatting problems.  After
wrestling with it for 
about an hour, I've given up.  The words are all here.....)

I'm a stuff person. That's who I am. I love clothes,
shoes, jewelry,
make up, china, knick knacks, furniture, candles, cookbooks, utensils,
bowls, rugs, frames.....Oh shit, let's face it, I just love it all.
To put it simply--I adore stuff. Anyone who knows me will tell you.....
"she has a lot of stuff". I'm not a minimalist. I'd like to live simply.
Sort of. Well, not really. But, the idea of it seems nice---no clutter,
serene, peaceful, environments, quiet, stress free. But,
I don't like bare walls.
Or empty flat surfaces. I don't like unadorned ears, necks,
wrists or fingers.
Lips should not be nude. In fact, adding a little lipgloss over
your lipstick is a good idea. And,shoes are a must---no matter
what
the time of day or night (unless, ofcourse, I am sleeping).
If you have to go barefoot...for heaven's sake be sure
to have your toe nails painted. Something bright.
More is good. Excess is best. So, simple living is out for me.
If I want serene---I just have to go to a spa.

Given my penchant for stuff.....I'm sure you would not be
the least bit surprised that I am also somewhat of a pack
rat. Not really a pack rat per say. I don't like rodents.
I just save things. Lots of things. And, I cram them in my attic.
Oh, and in my basement.
And, in the garage. And, in the 3 storage rooms in my basement.
Oh, and under my bed. And,
in the closets. And, even in my office (at work!).
So, with all this stuff,
I can rotate things a lot around the house--seasonly or when I just grow tired of
a look. You can visit me one week and I'll have a certain decor.
Come the next week and I've changed it. I also get bored easily, I guess.
But,I'll save that issue for another discussion. Anyway, I just go shopping
in one of my overfilled storage areas and whala! new stuff appears!
It's fun.

But, one thing that hasn't been fun for the past few years is being
forced by my ever climbing weight to send all of my favorite clothes to my
massive cedar closet in my attic. In fact, over the summer, it became so
filled with clothes that did not fit me, the sturdy pole they were hanging
on gave way. It's almost as if it said "that's enough!"
The saddest part of that episode is that I had to take all
of the clothes out of the closet so that it could be repaired.
It was hard. Looking at those clothes. Some of the my
favorite blazers,
suits, pants, skirts, sweaters, blouses, formal attire.
Some things still had tags
hanging from them---bargains I got at the end of a season with the hopes of
wearing them the following year. I never did. But, I saved those clothes.
Well, most of them. A few years back when a friend's husband
passed away and she
had to re-enter the workforce, I showed up one day with an entire
van filled
with Size 10's & 12's. As I was hauling them into her house, she looked at me
in utter disbelief."You'll never wear those again?" she asked.
"Not in this
lifetime. And, if you gain any weight, give me a call,
I have an entire wardrobe of
14's and 16's too. And, probably soon you could have the 18's as well."
She never
called. I guess she's no a lifelong dieter with an obese gene
like me. As any life
long dieter can tell you---size changes are a way of life. Having "fat clothes" is
not a joke.

But, the story gets happy

Yesterday, a beautiful thing happened. I descended the steps.....no, no.....I floated up
the steps...while beautiful music played....I glided into my attic store as soft lights danced about the room. I tenderly opened the cedar closet as my hair blew in the summer breeze that sweetly billowed through the window. And, I gazed upon my beloved clothes.
I gently reached my well manicured hand between 2 perfectly pressed pair of pants. Then, I pulled one of them towards my breasts and caressed them. As the lights dimmed, I danced around the room like a giselle (yes, a giselle...).
And, then, as a hush fell over the room, I daintily placed one foot and then the next into those pants. With a sway of my hips, I wistfully glided them over my leopard print hi-cut briefs. And, then, as my soft fingers reached for the zipper, a lone spotlight
engulfed me. And, as the zipper moved up, the theme from "Rocky" began to play.

Yes, it all happened right there in my attic.

Thinking about September 11, 2001.........

It's impossible to arrive at September 11 without thinking back to that fateful day in 2001 when the world somehow changed. Almost all of us can vividly recall where we were that day when we first heard that something was happening in New York City. For me, I was running late for work, stuck in traffic on Bigelow Boulevard, impatiently switching radio channels, trying to get a snipet of information on why the cars had not moved in over 5 minutes. It was an unusually pretty morning....sunny, cool. But, as I snaked through rush hour traffic after the mad dash to drop the kids off at their respective schools, it was just another morning commute. I didn't notice the weather---I was late. Unable to find a traffic report, I settled on listening to the banter between 2 morning disc jockeys. It was the usual stuff....celebrity sitings, silly insults, bad jokes. A few minutes into it, another member of the morning team said "hey, something just came over the wire, seems like there's a fire at the World Trade Center." The banter stopped momentarily and then they began discussing their individual trips to New York City. Fortunately, the traffic started to move and my mind focused on getting to work. When I finally got to the office, I casually said "anyone hear about a fire at the World Trade Center?" A few people switched on the radio. I went into my office. Within seconds, phones started ringing. Voices started to rise. It was as if the entire office said "WHAT?" in unison into their phones. Then, as quickly as the voices rang out, they stopped. Silence fell. Together, we joined the rest of the world. That moment in time. That day in September of 2001.

Today, I went back to work after being gone for 1 month. You know, we all have our own reasons for working. In my office, more than many places, jobs are what we do. To be more precise---our daily focus is on jobs---or, more appropriately--careers. Although I know in my heart that all of us are committed to these things---what we officially call our mission---I've been around long enough to realize that is not the sole reason why we keep coming back day after day. It's about other things. Fullfillment. Paychecks. College tuition. Health insurance. Retirement. Vacations. Shoes for the kids. Extra things. Bills. Yet, on most days, I think it's about the responsibility and commitment we feel towards each other that gets us out of bed, puts us in our cars and ushers us from places near and far. A bond, I suppose you can call it. We've been through life's ups and downs together. The good. The bad. The ugly. The celebrations. The losses. The laughter. The mourning. The joys. The times we play the lottery together. The happy hours. The little things we know about each other. It's the good mornings and the let's go to lunch and the have a nice weekend's. It's all the moments of our lives that we bring with us each day to the place we go each day. To do the things that we do. And, it's a good place. A place I was happy to return to today. To share the moments.......