Did I REALLY eat all that Turkey?

No, I did not. And, I didn't eat all that stuffing. And, I didn't eat all that pumpkin pie. In fact, I didn't eat all that much.

You know what...despite the fact that my Lapband did not allow me to eat large quantities of Thanksgiving fare, I actually had a wonderful holiday. Or, should I say....a very wonderful holiday weekend. It was all very exhausting (aren't they all?) but good nonetheless. We ushered the festivities out last night with another rollicking food fest. Yum. Yum. Hopefully, I'll recover soon. But, I don't see that happening today! Today is about trying to restore some order to the house, getting Vince packed up and out the door and then probably feeling a little blue as he pulls out the of the driveway. After I watch his car make the bend, I'm not sure if much else will get done besides feeling blue. But, just in case I need something to get my mind off of Vince's long drive through the mountains and the fact that I will be missing him so, there's still piles of dirty dishes and wine goblets in the sink and soiled linens piled high on the table. And, there's tons of leftovers in the fridge to be dealt with. I could definitely keep myself very busy for many hours....
As evidenced by the fact that I am blogging and not attacking those tasks....it's not exactly how I wish to spend my time right now.

At the moment, I just want to take this quiet time to reflect on the weekend that was. The kids are both tucked in their warm beds and Carmen headed out to work a little bit ago. So, for now---it's just me, my tea and my thoughts. Well...and those pesky dishes in the sink....

So, here's what I am thinking....
As much as Thanksgiving is about the food, Thanksgiving is not about the food. Well, it is about the food. But, it's about cooking the food from old family recipes written in pencil on tattered scraps of paper and doing the dishes while chatting away and making big kitchen messes that last longer than the leftovers. And, it's about creating memories and traditions and drinking wine and playing games and telling stories and giving thanks together--around the dinner table. It's about sitting next to your children year after year and then suddenly realizing that you are now sitting next to young adults---not children at all.

And here I always thought Thanksgiving was just about the food. After all these years, I'm finally catching on. And, all it took was a little extra tweak of my Lapband. How was I to know that a Lapband would open my eyes to a whole new meaning to Thanksgiving? I mean...let's face, I was just looking for a way to solve my obesity problem.... I guess I got more than I bargained for....

Turkey time.....again....

.Yes, it's a turkey marathon here in my little suburban hamlet. I mean....do we really love turkey THAT much?


Today it's fried cajun turkey and roasted turkey breasts......

My thankfulness continues....!

Unleash your inner shopping vixen.....

...it's Black Friday......the official start to the holiday shopping season....BE SEXY....


Prove you are not just another sexy shopper!
Don't let the sales and deals of the day consume you!
When you're standing in those LONG LINES waiting to buy those must-haves...recite one or two of these Black Friday trivia nuggets.....

Did you know? The earliest known reference to "Black Friday" is November 29,1975. The term was mentioned in two separate articles, both with Philadelphia timelines. Therefore, the term Black Friday is believed to have originated in Philadelphia.

Did you know? "Black Friday" was originally named with deference to other stressful and chaotic days such as Black Tuesday (the day of the 1929 stock market crash).


Did you know? The generally accepted meaning of "Black Friday" changed November 26, 1982. On that day, ABC News reported that Black Friday is the day that retailers' ledgers go from red ink to black ink, signaling profit.

Did you know? Black Friday is not the busiest shopping day of the year. #1 is usually the Saturday prior to Christmas.

Happy Shopping to you....you sexy thing!

It's THAT Thursday in November........

May your stuffing be tasty
May your turkey plump,
May your potatoes and gravy
Have nary a lump.
May your yams be delicious
And your pies take the prize,
And may your Thanksgiving dinner
Stay off your thighs!


May your day be filled with love, friendship and yes.....food.

Let's take a little break.......

...no, no, not a break from all the cooking and primping....but from the things that wear on you in your daily life.....

I'm blogging for me today....in hopes that I'll hear myself and listen to what I am saying. Because, damn....I need to be reminded...right here, right now!

Sometimes life feels so overwhelming. Like it does right now. With all the cooking and shopping and cleaning and merrymaking on the heels of more cooking and shopping and cleaning and merrymaking. Add that all to days that already feel too full and not exactly stress-free and what you've got is life on a rollercoaster-merrygoround. Dizzying. Tizzying. Nauseating. And altogether unnerving. Days that call for chunks of nut-filled chocolates,delectable king-sized icing-laden cookies, heaping bowls of full-fat vanilla bean ice cream smothered in hot hot carmel and vats of cheesey spicey nacho dip. With a box of wine on the side.

But not today.

No, no, not today. Did you hear me? Not today.

You see, that's what got me into this mess to begin with. The stress. The never ending rushing. The lengthy to-do lists. The world that we all live in--overscheduled, overmanaged and overpriced. What it got me was--OVERWEIGHT! Well...more like OBESE. But, that's old news.....

I have to learn from my mistakes. It's not easy but I'm trying. With my band restriction--all those goodies (except for the box of wine) are off limits. And, honestly, even if they weren't....I don't want to grow out of a pair of jeans I haven't even bought yet. As for the box of wine.....I plan to ignore it as it calls my name from the fridge. Instead, I'm going to chop. Then, I'm going to shop. After that, I'm going to cook. Then, maybe chop some more. Then, I'm going to shop some more. Then cook some more.

But, that's not all....

I am going to live in the moment....of chopping. There's something that's so relaxing about the simple act of chopping a huge bunch of celery and a few onions. I will wipe all other thoughts out of my mind. As I chop.

I am going to live in the moment....of shopping. I'll concentrate on every enjoyable pleasure at Sam's Club and Giant Eagle. I'll stop to appreciate the displays and the smells and the sounds. I'll push my cart and smile. I'll leisurely stroll up and down the aisles. As if I have no where else to go.

I am going to live in the moment....of cooking. I will laugh at the messes I make. I will listen to music as I stir and melt and pat and saute. I'll take joy in the aromas and the sights and the sounds of cooking. And, I'll take pleasure in thinking of serving my culinary delights.

And when I'm done with all of that.....

I am going to live in the moment of every single detail of what's left of my day. My mind will not wander and I will not allow the future or the past to interrupt my chopping, shopping or cooking.
And finally, I'm going to live in the hope that if I say it....I will do it.

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

...Judi....in jeans....

I'm wearing jeans this Thanksgiving. Sassy jeans. No elastic waist anything. No flowy skirt. No one-size bigger pair of black stretch pants. No sweats. And no half-zipped jeans either. Believe me friends when I tell you....this is historic. Momumental. One for the books. So, when you hear those church bells on Thursday morning--you'll know why. They toll for me. When you see the parade on your TV screens--you'll know it's in celebration of this momentous occasion. They march for me. When everyone in the stands does the wave at those football games....you guessed it...they are standing up and sitting down in honor of me. And should you hear fireworks as you sit down to dinner....yep....you can thank me for that little display. And, if you snag a great bargain on Friday at one of those predawn sales....yep, once again....ME. As I've told you before....it's all about the jeans. Oh, and the shoes. Yes, and the turkey. And, of course, the stuffing. And, the pumpkin pie. And the pilgrims. But....mostly....it's about giving thanks. And me wearing jeans....on Thanksgiving.

Yes, I am thankful. For more things than I can list here. That's for sure. But sometimes I just need to pause and take in the little things. As much as I joke about the jeans thing--it really is big. Not so much that I can wear the jeans (even though that's great!!). But, the bigger piece of it is the fact that I am even considering wearing them on a national holiday devoted to overeating. So, as much as I am truly thankful that I'm physically able to wear the jeans--I am enormusly thankful for the change that happened in my brain that allows me to do so. The idea that I am no longer trying to figure out how to dress-to-eat is a completely different mindset than the Judi of the Thanksgiving of yesteryears. And, it happened without spending hours and dollars being deprogrammed at some new age brainwashing clinic. It slowly happened over these past 470 days. As the pounds came off, my thinking started to change. And...wa-la....all of a sudden, my fat- girl thinking gave way to normal-weight-girl thinking. My brain said--you can wear jeans on Thanksgiving. And, there was no inner voice stopping me from giving life to that thought.

At the moment, my band is still being a little bit pesky. It's still not into accepting much more than thin mush. But, I'm doing what the doc told me to do and not pushing the issue. Will I be able to eat turkey and stuffing on Thanksgiving? I don't know. No matter what---my band will not stop me from enjoying the day, being thankful for the ability to enjoy the day and it will definitely not stop me from being ever so grateful to have my children and my loved ones beside me. Even though my dinner mates will come to the table because of the food....the food will have absolutely nothing at all to do with the gratitude I will feel at having them surrounding me. Am I a little worried about not being able to eat on Thanksgiving? To be honest--no. I'm more worried that others will be concerned. Because--for me--I figure I've had many Thanksgiving meals over these almost-50 years and I expect to have many more in the years to come. There will always be turkey and stuffing and pumpkin pie. But, there won't always be that moment.....I can't let worry or a feeling of being deprived rob me of it. The only other sort-of-worry I have is to make sure I don't get too tipsy drinking the luscious Beaujolais Nouveau I selected for dinner (especially if I can't eat!). My band will have no problem with that.....

As for the jeans I'll be wearing.....
Have no fear, friends....they will not be the jeans from this picture. I heard everyone loud and clear....they are not the jeans for me. No, I have my eye on a sassy pair at Coldwater Creek. I have 2 gift cards I'll use to splurge on them. And, a coupon.

Talk about a dream.....try to make it real...........
great words from a great philosopher named Bruce....a guy who knows a thing or two about jeans.....and dreams

Where The Boys Are........

The Carr boys, that is.....

And, it wasn't Beach Blanket Bingo. It was more like Clockwork Orange....

Listen, you'll have to forgive me, my brain is mush. Blame it on Frankie and Patsy. My father and his demented little brother (well, he has dementia). They did me in yesterday. It was just one thing after another. Between their constant cookie eating and candy munching and their barking banter....it was bedlum here in my little suburban hamlet. And not of the funny-ha-ha kind. It was more like "gee I wonder if my teeth will really crack if I keep gritting them this hard". If one wasn't scaling my staircase, the other one was. If one wasn't in need of another cookie, the other one was. It was just hour after hour of the most inaneness you can imagine. Toni retreated to her room soon after dinner and Vince really did try to stay in the same room with us. But, I think he gave up somewhere between my uncle's announcement that he liked "this restaurant" (our living room) and my father's request that I go to the store to get him prunes. And, we won't even mention my father's absessed tooth that practically wiped me out of Tylenol. My sisters and I have entrusted Vince with that problem today since Denise has the fate of her customers' Thanksgiving hairdos to deal with (she's a hairdresser) and Cathy has to keep the financial world going (she works at a bank) and of course, I have to do what I do. That will surely be the highlight of Vince's Thanksgiving break from his academic life....

Yes, yesterday, the best we could do was laugh. In fact, we did laugh. No, we howled. With tears and everything. As my father was giving a 45 minute speech on the Japanese (don't ask) and my uncle was smoking cigarettes in my dining room (no, we do not allow smoking in the house....)and the TV was so loud you could hear it out on the sidewalk in front of the house, Carmen and I just sat down on the couch and let our bodies release the stress that had been mounting all day. We just laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more. It was the only response we could figure that didn't involve knives and baseball bats.

Yes, our Sunday was a circus. But, it's Monday once more. And, as I reflect on the insanity of yesterday, there is one thing that remains clear. I come from good stock. I'm thankful for the Carr blood that runs through my veins. There's no other way I could have got through the day. Or any day for that matter.

Loving memories of a turkey and the woman who cooked it.....

..'tis the season....



Every time I think of cooking the Thanksgiving turkey, I think of my Nana Dip who died basting her turkey one Thanksgiving morning. In fact, it happened many years ago...to the day...November 23. I can't remember what year it was...my mom was still living and I was young enough to be excited about the Macy's Day parade. I'll venture to say it was over 40 years ago. So, while Nana was up the street (she lived a few houses from us) basting her turkey and my mom was upstairs at our house putting on her pearls and my sisters and I were happily watching the parade on our RCA black & white console TV, it happened. The incident that has marked our family's Thanksgiving turkey cooking escapades for the rest of our lives. Like I told you....I come from a long line of very serious cooks. Our supreme matriarch and the originator of many of our most beloved Italian recipes--Antoinette Gianella DiPippa--took her last breath while preparing an American holiday meal for her family. It was her last act. Her final curtain. And, it couldn't have been more prolific. Naturally, it wasn't quite like that on that Thanksgiving day when it all happened. Who would have thought that 40-some years after my dear deaf mute Aunt Carmy banged on our door that cold November morning in a panic--motioning to us that her mother fell over the turkey, that I would blog about it? (for that matter...who would have known what a BLOG was!) It was just sad and confusing. But,now, many many years later...I know that every Thanksgiving turkey my cousins and I pull out of our ovens, we think of Nana Dip and her final moment--basting a turkey for all of us. And, you know....we ate Nana's turkey that day. When all the crying and the panic and the phone calls and the people coming and going and the decisions on what she'd wear in her casket were done, my mom and her sisters and brothers took that turkey over to my Aunt Congie's. Then, we all sat down to eat it--amid the tears and the loss--we did what every other American did that day--we ate. Afterall, it was Thanksgiving and Nana had made us a turkey. With sausage stuffing.

My Nana was one of those stout Italian women with long black hair with a whip of grey that she wore tightly coiled in a braid at the nape of her neck. It was the longest hair I had ever seen. My Aunt Carmy would wash it for her and brush it with a big wooden paddle brush using long strokes. When it was sunny and warm, they would do it in the backyard under the grape arbor. With great fascination, I would watch the procedure of brushing it and putting it into a long braid that draped down to her waist. Nana's hair would glisten in the sunlight---a sight I would marvel at as I pranced about my Papa's garden a few feet away. All of my girlfriend's grandmothers had short hair or updos. No one I knew over the age of 20 had long hair. Except my Nana. And, the only time I saw it uncoiled is when she was having it brushed. My Nana always wore a dress with a full apron over top of it. She had 18 carat gold earrings she brought from Italy in her ears and her slim gold wedding band on her finger. That was enough jewelry for her. She wore support hose and black chunky shoes with laces. (clearly, I didn't inherit my love of fashion, shoes and baubles from her!) No matter if she was washing windows, sweeping the sidewalk or cooking the Thanksgiving turkey--that's what she wore. I always thought she slept like that too. There was never any fan fare about her. As far as I knew--she spent most of her time in her tiny kitchen creating that aromatic deliciousness that would fill her house and the rest of her time yelling at my Papa (grandfather) in Italian. Years later, I found out that she wasn't really yelling--it just always sounded that way--my grandfather was hard of hearing. But, growing up, I just figured that the only way to talk Italian was to yell. I thought Italian and loudness were one in the same. No one in my family ever spoke Italian softly. But, that was okay. It was the way it was.....oh so long ago.

What are your turkey memories?

Saturday morning.....my chai, my newspaper and me....

...both of my children are safely tucked in their beds upstairs, Carmen has his coffee brewing, there's snow on the ground outside my window, I'm wearing my leopard silk jammies, there's no plan for the next 4 hours and I'm feeling mighty fine. Could life get any better than this? Well....if only I could have some scrambled eggs....

Hello Friday!!!!

..what took you so long to get here?

Is it just me or did this week feel extra long? It took forever for it to end. But, it's here. Now, the only things I have to do before I can officially call it over and done with is get through the work day, worry about Vince's trip over the mountains (he's coming home for Thanksgiving today!) and deal with whatever Mother Nature has in store for us here in my beautiful suburban hamlet! Then....it's smooth sailing.....me and my Liquid diet! Shaken....not stirred.


Speaking of liquid diets......check this out
Happy Weekend!!!

Be very careful what you wish for.......

all it took was a little agitation....




Remember this post?
It was only days ago that I asked for help in staying away from buffet tables and second helpings. And, all of a sudden....I get it. I didn't do anything special, I wasn't extra nice to anyone and I wasn't even praying real hard. Sure, I blogged about it and I was hoping I'd do okay. But, did I do a novena or put in a special intention with my patron saint---St. Jude? No. Not once.

Let's face it, I've wished for all kinds of things over the years. Did I get them? No. So....why now? And, why did it have to be so extreme? Why did I end up having to return to a liquid-type diet? Really, I would have settled for an extra helping of motivation. But....a liquid diet? At Thanksgiving?

Yes, it appears that all of my stomach shenanigans over the past 24 hours did a number on my band. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. If I wasn't so shaken with fear, I could have told you that at 2 am this morning and every 10 minutes after that! It had to be one of the longest nights of my life. Between the pain and the fear...well....it wasn't good. And, leave it to me...the information junkie that I am...I went online to figure out what the hell was happening to me. Let me just say this.....that was a very bad idea. Even before logging on to LBT.com's "problems" forum, I was shaking. Within 10 minutes of reading people's posts, I was literally dry heaving with fear. I'll tell ya...some people can be such doom &gloomers!!!

So..the bad news--there's a bit of swelling and irritation. The good news--no band slippage. Slippage is the big concern, I suppose. So, they don't want to go in and irritate the area any more than it is. Which means they won't be removing any fluid quite yet. We need things to settle down a bit before doing anything at all. So, it's wait and see.

So...there you have it. I got what I wished for. In one form or another. All I did was agitate my band and wa-la....I got more motivation than I asked for.

To fill or not to fill.....that WAS the question.....

Well, silly me....I went with THE FILL.....evidently, that was not a good answer to my very perplexing question.....

So, that explains why I've been up a good portion of the night and why I'm blogging before 4 am! Thank God for my blog....I needed something to get my mind off of what's happening here. It's not pretty....I will spare you the details. All I know is that as soon as the clock strikes 8 am, I'm calling the doctor's office.

Now, I don't want to scare anyone off who is considering Lapband or is already Lapbanded. Because I think this is just a fluke. You see...you may recall one of my blog entries about Kelly--my wonderful fill technician...yeah...well....Kelly is gone. As in...she is no longer there. Where are you Kelly? Where have you went? Why did you go? Is it something I said?
You picked a fine time to leave me Kelly!

Here's how it went down.....
There I was....still wrestling with whether to get my band adjusted or not....even as I drove to my appointment. (Thankfully, my Lapband friend Sandy had warned me last week that Kelly was gone. So, I knew I couldn't count on her sage advice to help me with my indecision.) As I sat and waited to be called....I continued to grapple with the question that's vexed me for the past few days---fill or no fill? Just as I could feel the heat from stressing over that question rise to the tips of my ears, I was called into the office. At that point...I looked up to the ceiling and thought...."well, it's in someone else's hands now". As I followed the nurse back to the procedure room, I secretly prayed that it wasn't in the hands of Rachael (the lovely but bad fill tech). 50% of my prayers were answered immediately---it was not Rachael. Whew. The other 50% of my prayers seemed to be answered quickly too. The new tech said that it seemed like getting a fill would be a "smart move" with the holidays coming up--explaining that he was not as conservative as Kelly and felt that it was important---especially at this stage of my process--that I have consistently good restriction. He went on to explain how as I lose weight, the fat that surrounds the band decreases--thus increasing the need for the band to be more filled. Made complete sense to me. And, let's face it--if a professional says "do it", I do it. It's just the way I was raised.....

The adjustment itself went fine. The technician easily found the opening to my port, removed the saline, put it back in and then added more. He put in a hefty fill...or so he said. It went from a 2.3cc to a 2.7cc. To be honest--the numbers meant nothing at all. The fact that he told me it was a big one ("it's the biggest you've ever had" he told me!) is the only way I would have known. Once that was done, he checked to see if I could swallow water. When I did that successfully, he bid me farewell and Happy Holidays....reminding me that it's mushy foods for me for the next 3-4 days. Off I went--with visions of losing 10 pounds within the next 6 weeks. Oh my! Looks like I better wait to get a new outfit for Carmen's fancy-smancy holiday party. And, of course, I'll need new black velvet pants by New Years' Eve....

Okay...now, let's see....mushy foods? Hmmm....does very soupy instant mashed potatoes with a little parmesean cheese count as mushy? Apparently, my band does not think so......... It told me so all night long

Houston....I think we have a problem....

While we're on the subject.......

....of cooking and food and Thanksgiving and all things calorie related.....

Why don't we have a little fun in the kitchen?

Oh, come on, it won't be all that bad. I promise. Really, I do.

Need some music to listen to while you cook that turkey? Have you thought about this classic song.....

Go ahead....talk dirty on Thanksgiving.....!

How about a new dish to bring to Aunt Edna's this year. Try this.

What to do if you don't want to go to Aunt Edna's next year....
-When everyone goes around to say what they are Thankful for, say, "I'm thankful I didn't get caught" and refuse to say anything more.
-Bring a date or a friend that only talks about the tragic and abusive conditions known to exist at turkey farms.
-During mid-meal turn to Aunt Edna and say, "See Aunt Edna, I told you they wouldn't notice that the Turkey was past expiration date. You were worried for nothing."

Want to make personalized place cards for every guest at your Thanksgiving table?Check out these FOODSCOPES.....healthy eating according to astrological signs....? won't cousin Gerty love you


Wonder what you're going to talk about this year at the Thanksgiving Dinner table? How about being thankful?
thankful that you're not any of these people...
or maybe thankful Al isn't coming to your house....


How about a new outfit to cook in this year....

Have you ever heard this Thanksgiving kitchen story....it's a classic....you might want to share it with Uncle Fred...
I saw you across a crowded room. Among all the others that were there, The lights seemed to shine down on you alone. I knew then I had to have you for my own.
Willingly, you came with me to my home. From the car, I carried you & threw the door.
Looking at you, I admire your body, your well shaped legs, and breasts. Slowly I remove what wraps, around your body so tightly, fitting you like a glove. Exposing your tender white skin.
From your neck I remove your charms, and carry you off in my arms, to the warm water that awaits.
The water cascades down your neck, flowing over your soft breasts then, making your legs glisten with wetness. Droplets of water cover your taut skin.
My hands rub your body, ummmm running them threw the beads of water. Making them trickle down off your body.
I place my fingers inside you. You are warm and moist, so ready. I carry your still dripping body, to a laying place, so that I can put inside you what was well prepared to enter you before we even came through the door.
As soon as I lay you down your legs spread open wide. You are ready now and so am I.
I put a little in slowly at first, getting a feel for how much you can take in.
I put in more, you take it willingly. In anticipation, faster and faster I put it in, pushing it in deeply as far as I can, until I can't put any more in, you are so tight. With your legs wrapped tightly, not wanting to release any of it,
I make you so hot for a very long time, until your sweet juices escape from within. Then I taste you, with my tongue at first, your skin is so soft and tender.
I taste more of you with my mouth, you are so hot and moist, you taste so good.
Your juices coating my mouth, making me drool in anticipation of eating you more, with every taste.
"Oh yes", I say to you,
I must say Grace "Thank God for Butterball turkey.... Amen"


Only 9 dieting days until Thanksgiving.......

Just another manic Monday........

To fill or not to fill.....that is the question....

Tomorrow I go in for my 6 week band check. And, I'm all a-flutter about whether my Lapband needs re-adjusted (filled) or not. We're less than 2 weeks from the world's biggest foodfest and I'm caught between caution and caution. Caution #1 is that I really want a nice restriction going into a major food holiday with several weeks of food events following it. I mean--yes, I want to eat. But, I don't want to scarf down everything on the damn table and then conduct midnight refrigerator raids. And, caution #2 is that an overfill can be quite serious. Painful and possibly damaging. So, I don't want that. How do I know? What should I do?

So....here's the thing. A few posts ago, I went on and on about my "sweet spot"...that magical place in a Lapbander's world where your beloved band is at it's perfect restriction. It's the holy grail of Lapbanding. It's Oz. It's at the end of the yellow brick road. It's the ultimate destination. Yes, without too much more explanation...let me just say...it's the place you want to be. The place you've been striving for. It's a mental-physical state of being that is oh so sought after in the landscape of a Lapbander's life. And, once you're there---you are supposed to stay there. Right?

Well, I guess sweet spots are like anything else....they only last so long. Or, maybe not. I'm not so sure. You see, last week, I felt it. This week, I don't know. Or, last week I thought I felt it and this week, I don't think I do. Or, maybe I wasn't really at my sweet spot...and I just thought I was. Or, maybe I just said I was because I wanted to be. Maybe I was faking it. Yes, it's very perplexing this sweet spot thing. Sort of like orgasms, I suppose.

So...the question is--have I outgrown my sweet spot and do I need to get re-sweet-spotted? Or, is my sweet-spot just fine and I'm just looking for a reason to have stress because that's what I do on Mondays? Maybe I just needed a Monday melt-down to kick off the week and I don't have a sweet spot issue.
Or, maybe I do.....

Never trust a skinny cook.........

I'm a foodie. A kitchenista. A cooking fool. A woman with a severe menu problem. I know, I know, we've been over this before. But, honestly... when it gets this close to the holidays, my mania powers up, goes full throttle and literally does drop kicks on my world. I just can't help myself. Judiland revolves around food, cooking, menus and plans for more food, menus and cooking. It's that simple--I'm a woman with an apron who is out of control. Not just in the kitchen. It's everywhere I go. Everywhere. We are having a lovely lunch in a quaint little, ambiance-filled cafe and I'm obsessed with figuring out the ingredients in a bowl of soup. We're sitting in a huge auditorium waiting for a college visit program to begin and I hear someone 5 rows back mention a sale at a local kitchen emporium and I'm planning my escape. Does my daughter really want to go to this college? Nah....let's go find that store! We're driving through horrendous rain--the kind that hits the ground and bounces back up--making it very hard to drive....but yet, I'm in the grips of menu planning and mentally toiling over if there's enough room on the table to add yet another side dish. Do I need a new, space-saving platter?

It's official, friends...I'm hopelessly obsessed and there is no hope for recovery. Well, at least anytime soon. Or, not anytime in the next 8 weeks. The food network is on during a good portion of my waking and at-home hours. Plus, deep into the night, I'm either pouring through food magazines, cook books or my menu diary (yes, I keep one...) or I'm making lists and hunting down ingredients and looking for new ideas using traditional foods. Right now, my conversations with others and with myself involve food over 80% of the time. It's no wonder I found myself laying on an operating table having a Lapband put around my stomach...... Oh wait....it was much more than food that drove me there....right? It was genetics and dumb luck and poor exercise habits brought on by the pain of obesity.... Ah, I feel so much better. It wasn't because I was a raging foodaholic.....

You know, before I beat myself up too bad here....I want to say this---my love affair with food may have cost me quite a few years and it may have helped me to pile on quite a few pounds. But, let's face it---not all of the results were awful. It clearly gave me a deep appreciation for good food and creative cooking. Yes, I may go overboard and I may find my life being ruled by the almighty Thanksgiving menu. But, damn....I know good food. And, yes, good food knows me.

All it took was a blue bra.......

It's the small things. No, I'm not referring to my breast size. They are just fine...thank you. They've weathered almost 50 years of doing what they do as A cups, B cups and C cups. They are showing their age a little....not as much as other parts of me. They were never big enough to droop even though I had a period of time in my teens when I wish they would have. They emerged unscathed from the bra burning era and the braless years and the "gee I wish they were bigger" time frame. They made it past dates with roaming hands, a baby trying to nurse and being pushed into a machine. They are troopers, these breasts of mine. But...I'll be honest...just like the rest of my body...they look so much better when they are dressed up.

I've always loved lingerie. Bras and undies especially. In my leaner years, my collection of bras would have made Victoria spill her secrets. But, as I morphed into a plus size gal, my pretty bras got shoved to the back of my lingerie armoire--never to be seen again. I didn't even bother to take them out to gaze upon them. It was just too painful. Instead, I busied myself trying to replenish my bra wardrobe with ones that would #1--fit and #2--not look as if I inherited them from my grandmother. What I ended up with was a respectable supply of black, beige and white non-descript bras. Not my grandmother's. But, definitely not the kind of bras that the girl that lived inside of me would wear. Yes, I guess I could have went to stores that catered to the plus size vamp. But, for some reason, I couldn't find the gumption to walk into a store that has a rubinesque mannequin wearing black thigh-hi fishnets, a red garter belt and a red satin bustier in the window. Trust me, I'm not a prude by any means. I can be as vampy as that trollop in the window. But...well...I just couldn't do it. I'm an SUV-driving wife and mother from the suburbs who grows award winning basil,who tends a butterfly garden and who has china service for 24...you know what I mean?

Last week, as I was rummaging through my lingerie looking for a specific pair of p.j's (ones that would go oh so nicely with my new robe), I spotted a baby blue bra strap. Right there behind an old half slip (does anyone wear those anymore?). As I yanked it out, I noticed that it still had it's tags on it. A sweet baby blue bra with the cutest little pink bow and soft lace inserts...with tags on it. And, it was no cheap bra. It wasn't even on sale! Given that...it could mean only one of two things. #1--I bought it while on an extremely optimistic diet plan or #2--it fit me on the day and I bought it and then didn't fit the next week when I went to put it on. Both scenarios were completely possible...trust me. I fiddled with it and held it up--looking at it as you do when you're trying to remember where the hell it came from. It was just so pretty. I could imagine that I fell in love with it the minute I saw it....oh those many years ago. Yet, I couldn't remember even buying it. I mean, let's face it--I had to love that bra if I paid that much for it! Maybe it was meant for a certain outfit. Or, perhaps I bought it for a special occasion or maybe I was saving it for just that right moment. Whatever it was....I don't remember. Perhaps I blocked it from my memory or maybe it was just one of those things that got wiped out by the everyday grind. I shrugged my shoulders, put the bra on my dressing table chair and went back to searching for the p.j.s. Afterall...I was eager to put on my jammies with my robe, gather up my magazines, plump up some pillows, light some candles, make some hot chocolate and spend some quality time relaxing! Which is what I did. With no thoughts of my blue bra.

Soon, however, that bra haunted me...what did I buy that adorable blue bra for? And, why didn't I ever wear it? I mean, I just couldn't shake the feeling that the blue bra was bought with something important in mind. And, as my mind began to wander, I conjured up several scenarios. All them ended badly....each with some version of me discovering that I no longer fit into my new blue bra and then, ravished by tears, I pushed it so far back into my cabinet as to hide the pain. No happily ever afters. Yes, I know, I can think up quite dramatic things. I am not sure if any of that happened or not. But, in my mind, I imagined that it did! Even now--I still think it may have! There were so many episodes such as that over the years as my body ballooned to epic proportions in a short period of time. So, last night, I marched upstairs---determined to get my blue bra mojo back. I figured if I put it on, the feelings might come flooding back. It didn't happen. But, what did happen is this---that blue bra fit me. I might not remember why I bought it the first time around. But, I sure do know what I'm going to do with it now.

Yes, friends....I'm going on a road trip.....me and my BLUE BRA.....




See ya next week!!!!

Rah, Rah, Rah, Bip, Boom, Bah.....

Can I have an M?

We're being tested. Yep, it's that time of the year. It all started with that Halloween candy. And now it's moving towards stuffing and pumpkin pie. Soon it will be cookies and candy canes and wine and cute little appetizers and gooey plates of stress food. Then it's vats of nacho dip and big mugs of fatladen hot chocolate. After that, it's missing breakfast--to be followed with scarfing down a doughnut right before a lunch of left over turkey smothered in gravy. Before you know it, it's drive thru food for dinner and midnight runs to Sheetz for a hoagie. The parties. The dinners. The food tastings at Sam's. The left overs. The cooking. The happy hours. The shopping trips. The food court. The coworkers who bring trays of their elderly aunts' fudge and whoppie pies. It's the finals at the end of an entire year of learning. Did we really learn anything?


Can I have an O?

We have to call in the big guns, the girls with the pom poms and the cute guys with the megaphones. Because, friends, we're in for a duzy this year. Well, at least that's the way I'm feeling. With all the economic upheaval coupled with the holiday hoopla and all that goes along with it, food and booze may be the best coping strategy out there. So, I'm thinking---what will it take for me to indulge but not too much, enjoy but not go overboard, do everything I need to do but not become one big stress ball? And....do it without undoing the good work I've done so far.


Can I have a T?

I'm not delusional or half-assed enough to believe that I will or want to avoid all temptation . All I want is a reason to put on the brakes when I'm perusing a buffet table. And something to stop me as I'm standing with the fridge door open wanting to scoop the inside of the pumpkin pie out with a spoon and eat it right there. Plus, I just need that metaphoric hand to slap mine when I reach for yet another big helping of mashed potatoes. And, I want my voice to fall silent when I start ordering that third martini. And...one more thing....I just need a little tsk-tsk for those moments when I'm contemplating a midnight raid on the snack cupboard. That's really all I want. I don't want to miss it all. Afterall, I love buffet tables and pumpkin pie and mashed potatoes and martinis and midnight snacks. Life is too short to live without those things.


Can I have an I-V-A?

Everybody seems to need a little help during these November and December days. There's not an hour that goes by that someone is not bemoaning something that has to do with overindulgence, weight gain or body image. There's not a day that goes by that I don't hear someone beat themselves up over "falling off the wagon" or "being a pig" or just plain overeating. Anymore, it seems like every morsel of food is a sin. At least that's what I hear. So, with all of those voices spewing from so many sources, it's easy to feel like we're damned and destined to just throw in the towel and chow down with reckless abandon. I just don't want to give in to that. And, I know that there will be 2000 times in the next 6 weeks that I will find myself *this* close to doing just that. What's a girl to do?


Can I have a T-I-O-N?

Do I just need stronger willpower? Or, is there something magical or mysterious about sailing through the holidays unscathed by food and liquor? Believe me, I know I have my trusty, beloved Lapband around my stomach. So, I'm luckier than most. But, did I ever tell you that nachos and mashed potatoes and chocolate and the inside of pies and martinis and wine get by that Lapband just fine? They are all very sneaky things....my Lapband doesn't even know they arrived or even passed through the gate. I'm telling you, I have a love-hate thing with every meal beginning with Thanksgiving and ending with New Years Day. My fear of that turkey is as palible as if it could jump up off that platter and bite me on the nose. The power of that stuffing is strong---fortified by 3000 fat calories and 698 grams of carbohydrates. As for that sweet potato casserole and those honey balls--their sweetness can lure an honest woman into prostitution. The temptations that await me and all of my weight battling brethern is going to be rough. I'm fully expecting that this issue will be discussed again and again and again between now and the end of the year. Maybe that's the answer.....reaching out and sharing our frustrations in the hopes of rising above it.
So....can I have M-O-T-I-V-A-T-I-O-N? (should we all just put this picture on our fridge?)

It takes me awhile....but when I get it, I GET IT.....

..and then I fix it!



I finally disconnected our home phone.....

Let me explain.....

Our home phone number has been our connection to each other and to the world since we moved into our little duplex on Wenzell Avenue. I'll never forget the day we got that number. It was the very first thing Carmen and I had together that announced to the world our couplehood--our very own phone number. It's been the number dialed when someone wanted to share good news, bad news, gossip, information or just to chat. It's astounding to me, as I think back--how many words, how many tears and how much laughter crisscrossed those lines. The hellos, the goodbyes, the I love you's, the I'm sorrys and all the words in between....the many things we say to those we love, those we talk to and even to those strangers who call us. Oh, the stories I could tell (I know...you don't doubt that!).

For so many years, our phone number was the only way to reach us---unless you wanted to knock on our door. But, as technology railroaded it's way ino our lives, we jumped on the train. Cell phones. Beepers. Laptops. Blackberrys. Yes, we've got them all. In fact, Carmen is a walking techno geek these days with a belt filled with a beeper, a phone and a Blackberry. (yes, I know...it's not a good fashion look...) It's gotten to the the point that we're so wired to the universe that it's a wonder why there are times we are unreachable. But...it happens.

Each and everyday, the 4 of us are out there doing what we do in our own little corners of the world--carrying at least one cell phone, one of us is carrying a beeper as well, a few of us are hog tied to our computers most of the day and our $80 a month home phone is home ringing. And, there's no one there to answer. Sometimes those calls are important. But, lately--not so much. Sure, we've had celebrities calling us quite a bit---during the presidential campaign. And, we've had more than our share of robocalls on our voicemail from regular campaigners. But, mostly, the phone just rings and we're not home. We're spending $80 a month for for our phone to ring with no one to hear it. And, when it is someone on the other end of the line who wants to talk to us--they leave a message. So, in addition, we're spending $80 a month to get a message from someone we have to call back!

It's taken me quite a bit of time to finally acknowledge that it was completely absurd to have 6 phone numbers among us (not counting our office phones). Even when Toni and her then-boyfriend ran up an astronomical bill last year from a grotesque amount of texting and I was forced to upgrade my service to the tune of $80 a month, I didn't budge. I couldn't bear the thought of giving up our home phone. But, each month afterwards, as I paid those bills, I'd raise my fist in the air and declare--"I'm getting rid of our landline!" Thinking back...I couldn't utter the words "home phone". Somehow the word "home" made it feel too important. Yes, I was being completely ridiculous and sappy and wasteful. It was all based on emotions! But, that's how it was. Giving up that phone meant more than the $80 I spent each month. So, what changed my mind? 15,985 kb's. I didn't know what 15,985 kb's was but what I did know is that it cost $544.82. All of a sudden....my emotional attachment to phones and communications in general became a thing of the past. I was ready to shut off every phone, every method of communication and every piece of communicative equipment my family owned and revert us all back to the dark ages where we would play cards to pass the time, let visitors come to the door to carry messages and send letters through the mail if we wanted to say something to someone who lives in the next town.

Yeah, well....I'm someone who doesn't stay angry long. And, I hate playing cards. Plus, I'm impatient with anger...it upsets things and makes me feel lousy and screws with my make up. Instead, I just take care of the problem. So, that's what I did. Once I learned that the reason why my bill was what it was (Vince's new phone had internet service so he was using it heavily!) and figured out what I needed to do to make sure it didn't happen again--I did it. What that meant was that I had to add on another $60 a month in fees to upgrade to an unlimited internet plan. THAT'S WHEN I decided the HOME PHONE had to go. It was no longer reasonable to hang on to something that cost $80 a month just because it had sentimental value. Yes, I suppose that means that my affections have a price tag on them. So be it. I will accept that evaluation.

There comes a time when we just have to stop allowing our hearts to rule our heads.

That's exactly why I quit dieting and got a Lapband (and why I disconnected my home phone)......

Let's talk Stuffing.......

It's that time of year when stuffing talk is all the rage. And, you know I am a girl who has to get in on the action.....

So, this past weekend I took a little time out to attend a Stuffing Class at Williams Sonoma. If you've never attended one of their classes, I highly recommend them. They are free and you get to sample their luscious foods. Plus, the groups are small enough that there's lots of interaction. At our local store, they hold them on Sunday mornings before the store opens. They fill up rather quickly so you have to get your name on the list well in advance---which I did. Even though I had covetted a spot, come Sunday, I wasn't sure if I really wanted to go since I was trying not to have a schedule. However, since I had to drop Toni off at her Zumba (a cross between Latin dance & aerobics) class and there's a Starbucks within a few feet of the Williams Sonoma, I figured--what the hell. So, I dropped Toni off at the gym and I went to the class...with my Venti Chai Latte with an energy shot and a protein shot in hand. Yes, while my well-fit, petite daughter did Zumba, her not-all-that-fit-but-not-as-unfit-as-before mother did the polar opposite---I got involved in frying bacon, oohing and ahhhing over the use of sweet salted butter and became orgasmic at the smell of sausage-laden bread chunks. All calorie-free. What a wonderful time I had....

As the class progressed, I found myself chatting and sharing holiday cooking stories with a group of fun women who were standing nearby. They were all attending in support of their friend who was taking on the Thanksgiving turkey task for her extended family for the very first time. While her friends laughed and talked, the new turkey chef was focused completely on the stuffing demonstration. She was taking notes and asking questions and asking for clarifications on measurements, cooking times, ingredients, etc. About halfway through the demonstration, an older, very elegantly dressed woman spoke up. "You know, there is no real recipe for stuffing" she said--directing her comment to the new turkey cook. A hush fell over the group as we sat and waited for the demonstrator to say something--anything. Finally, the woman who was teaching us how to make stuffing chirped "yep! in fact, this is NOT how I make my stuffing!" At that, I could see the new turkey cook begin to sweat and fumble with her notebook. And so it began....the stuffing talk. As it does any time you are in a group of people discussing stuffing--everyone had their own recipe and we were all eager to share them.

Stuffing is a funny thing. There was not one recipe the same. Sausage. Chestnuts. Oysters. Apples. Cranberries. Ground meat. Ham. Ricotta. Biscuits. Cornbread. Eggs. Day-old bread. Toasted bread. Wonder bread. Croutons. Stove-top. Raisins. Cranberries. Cheese. The only common denominator---everyone said their stuffing was "the best". Naturally, I didn't have the guts to tell them that NO....they were all wrong...mine is...hands-down...the absolute best. Funny how a bunch of wonderful stuffing cooks all ended up in a class to learn how to make it!

Yes, all stuffings are as different as the people who make them! Mine, like most, has it's origin in a family recipe. My sisters and my aunts and my cousins and my second cousins (and any in-laws who have been beaten into conforming) make their stuffing this way. However, over the years, I've tweaked mine a bit and made it my own. My relatives have done the same. Trust me....I know this for sure. We've had many discussions on it--as only a family of foodies would do. We may change things here or there but we always maintain it's common ingredients--sweet Italian sausage, hot Italian sausage, raisins and Romano cheese. I use a combination of Pepperidge Farms cornbread stuffing mix, Williams Sonoma classic stuffing blend and any left over artisan breads that I've saved in the freezer. I mix it all up with my sausages and raisins and cheese and add Williams Sonoma turkey herbs, sauted celery and onions, parsley and some turkey stock with wine and butter. It is simply the best.....
Now, I just can't wait to make and eat....my stuffing!

Next time we talk stuffing....we'll discuss that never-ending debate over stuffing the turkey or not stuffing the turkey. Until then....I'll be thinking STUFFING. How about you?

In honor of this season of sharing and family and all things food....tell me..... what's in your stuffing?

Hello friends.....greeting another week......

...on this journey....




I've done the restful weekend thing....now it's time to put life into high gear and get on with another week. I had my share of chai lattes and shopping and nesting. Not that I couldn't stand another day of it...but it's not to be. The leisurely life can't go on forever. As much as I might love it and benefit from it, it's just not me. I need chaos and crisis and hoopla and never ending lists to feel alive and successful. I like the adrenaline rush thing. Don't I? I mean...that is why I suck down caffeine laced with b-12 and guava, right? Or, do I do that to keep up with my spinning, busy world? Well...I am not going to take the time to figure that out. I might not like the answer....

Yes, Monday is here. I can feel it. I always get frantic at the beginning of a new week. Here in Judiland, we're back to the flash-by semi-routines that are my life. But, thankfully, amid the hub-bub of the coming days, there will be a wonderful sweetness. On my fridge calender--written in big red letters is not 1, not 2, not 3 but, YES--4 dates with friends I haven't seen in way too long. I'll start off having a little pow-wow with one of my newest friends---my Lapbanded friend Sandy. Then, mid-week, I'll head out to have dinner with my dear, dear college friend Rene. Then, the next day--Happy Hour with my wonderful, spirited friends. By Sunday, it will be time to reconnect with my oldest, oldest friend--my childhood playmate, my Barbie-doll playing partner, the girl who I have known since I learned how to walk, the girl who I bleached my hair with, the girl I stayed out all night with, the girl who I don't remember a day not knowing...yes, the one, the only--Debbie Dean. In between all of that--I'll go to work, I'll cook, I'll drink chai lattes with energy shots and protein shots, I'll do dishes, I'll walk, I'll drive from here to there, I'll go on another college trip with Toni, I might buy shoes and I'll blog. But, when it's all said and done--what I'll really do this week is reap the rewards of friendship. What a lucky girl I am. Even if I have to do all those other things.

Comfort and Joy.......

...in my new robe.....

It was time. I'm getting to the point in my Lapband journey when I can no longer pretend that my underwear fit. As much as I'd rather spend money on shoes and boots and pants and jackets and sweaters, I can no longer deny the fact that my gutchies were drooping. The sad thing is that I've got a pretty amazing big girl underwear collection--lots of fun colors and prints and great fabrics. No wonder--I've been amassing those plus size unmentionables for quite a few years! So, replenishing my pantie wardrobe is a bit of a job and it's no cheap feat. It must be done in stages. So, yesterday, having a little bit of free time after I dropped Toni off at her Pilates class, I decided to venture over to Marshall's to pick up a gift for the confirmation dinner we had to go to last evening and to check out their underwear. After finding the perfect gift, I headed back to the lingerie section---trying to block out the sweaters and pants and jackets and suits and shoes. I kept my eyes firmly fixed on the underwear racks at the back of the store. And, wouldn't you know it...that's when I saw it--the robe that I've been looking for all of my life. Red. With a hood and a zipper. Knee length. Not too bulky. Pockets. Oh so perfect.

Yes, I got a few pair of underwear. They are fine. Not up to par. But, I have time. As for my new robe....well, it's given new meaning to my weekend. Last night--as soon as we got home from the confirmation dinner---I ran up the stairs and put on my robe. I lit a few of my favorite this-time-of-the-year candles (pumpkin spice), made a cup of William's Sonoma decadently delish hot chocolate (I add a little cayenne to give it some zip..), plopped myself up with lots of pillows and flipped through magazines. It just seemed like the thing to do in my new robe. And, this morning....as I sit here in my new robe blogging....I am dreaming of making potato soup. It's just that kind of robe....it makes me want to cuddle and cocoon and celebrate being a complete homebody.

There's a new word that's floating about out there....bliss. I'm pretty sure I'm feeling it right now.....all because of my new robe. My Lapband has given me so many gifts....many of them unexpected. This is one of them. Because of my Lapband, I lost weight and my big girl undies got too big...which led me to my robe. My blissful robe.....the reason why I'm online before the sun comes up on a Sunday morning when I could be sleeping in....to find the perfect potato soup recipe.......
Ahh....this calls for a chai latte (minus the energy shot).....

Anyone have a good potato soup recipe?

How the other half eats......

....the other half that doesn't think that their character is measured by how much they slave in the kitchen.....

I'll admit it, I'm a food snob, a foodie and a meal time martyr. Blame it on my mother. In the 14 years that I had the pleasure of her mothering, she brain washed me into believing that anything that comes in a can is just bad, if you serve frozen food it's because you must not be able to cook/did not take the time to learn how to cook for your family/it's just bad mothering and anyone who gets take out for their family mustn't love them as much as she loved us.

My mother educated us on the fine art of pretending you are eating food at someone else's house that may have come from a can or from the freezer or did not meet her standards. She marched us out of a fancy restaurant because she said her children would not eat the garbage they served there. And, she threw an entire bag of food (from the first McDonald's in our area) out the car window and into the parking lot because she was horrified by the look of the burgers. Yes, my mother talked about women who served their families tomatoe sauce from jars and she thought it was sinful that mothers preferred to go to the local pizza shop for Lenten Friday meals. She could not understand why they would not make their own pizza! She railed against salad dressings in a bottle and only allowed certain condiments in our house--ketchup and pickles to be exact. During that time, she never considered herself a food snob or a foodie or anything like that. She was just being a good mother and wife. Which she was....despite her food snob ways....

Now, I'm not saying that I am anything like my mother. But, how could I help but not be deeply influenced by her ways? And, let's be honest--she was a good cook. Who would not be influenced by such wonderful food? In fact, she and all of her sisters and her mother--my Nana--were excellent cooks. So, I was always around good, delicious and lovingly prepared foods. Even after my mother passed away, my aunts make sure we ate well and that I learned how to cook good--in the way of the DiPippa's. My mother's entire Italian family took great pride in the culinary skills that they learned beside their beloved mama as part of their female upbringing (a girl has to know how to cook!) and they considered it their duty to make sure their daughters inherited the same.

So....although my kitchen pantry and freezer conents probably makes my beloved mom turn over in her grave once a week and my feelings on food are light years away from my mother's,--there's still that part of me that is very much Antoinette DiPippa Carr's daughter. I just can't NOT make a big deal about food and menus and ingredients and recipes and cooking. If I was really being honest--I would tell you that a good meal takes time--from the planning to the shopping at specific stores to the prepation to the presentation. And, I'd tell you that there is no way you could have a special meal without a lot of work.
Well......I have been proven wrong. At least this time....
A quick, spur-of-the-monent trip to Trader Joe's yesterday during my lunch hour may have converted me....for the moment.
Last night, we had a lovely, delicious, relaxing gourmet meal complete with candles and wine.....courtesy of prepared food, frozen food, food from a bag and food from a carton. And, I wasn't too tired to enjoy the rest of a wonderful Friday evening at the end of a very long week.....
Seafood Cioppino (frozen)
Flatbread Pizza with spinach, sundried tomatoes and ricotta salata (prepared)
Greek Yogurt (carton) drizzled with honey (my idea!) and Pumpkin Granola (from a bag)

Wish you could have joined us mom......

Weekend, weekend......here I come.......

No college visits. No big plans. A little party here, a little cooking there and a whole lot of nothing else. At least that's how things are looking on this end of the weekend. Let's just see how things end up come Sunday night. So, stay tuned on that one.

As we inch into November, I suppose I should start thinking about readying the house for Thanksgiving, starting the Christmas shopping and beginning my never-ending holiday countdown to-do list. But, I'm not. Nope. Not this weekend. If I were really smart I would. But, nope, I'm going to wait until a weekend when I have seven things happening at the same time and then throw in a few more. I am going to do just that. Because that is who I am.

For this weekend--my plan is simple--I will do exactly what is planned and I will not do anything more. I will not guilt myself into anything other than what's on the calendar. I'll do minor chores. I will not re-do the kitchen or take apart the attic. I will do a little laundry. I will not tackle all the curtains, throw rugs and blankets in the house. I will do a bit of grocery shopping. I won't stock the cabinets or haul home sacks of flour and sugar for the holidays. I will cook if I have to. But, I will not make elaborate or gourmet meals. I will read the paper and magazines and clip coupons. I will go through cookbooks and look at pictures and recipes. I will sip tzao ginger peach tea. Maybe I will catch a movie. I'll enlist my favorite shopping partner for a little run to the Galleria to check out a few of our fav stores. I'll go to Starbucks and order a Non Fat Venti Chai Latte with an Energy Shot and a Protein Shot and maybe even a squirt of pumpkin syrup. I might buy shoes. Maybe even boots.

This weekend, I plan to live like a Diva. I'll have on my leopard nighty and robe ensemble when I run to the front walkway to pick up the newspaper. I'll wear stihlettos to the Confirmation Party. I'll refuse to get out of bed until 8. And, I won't serve anyone---even if they say PLEASE.

Well, at least this is my plan......

Winning is Losing and Losing is Winning.....

keeping up the election theme......

I'm wondering if John McCain is feeling that way today as he leisurely (hopefully) sips his morning coffee and looks forward to a bit of rest after a hard fought battle. My guess is that Barack Obama doesn't quite have that luxury this morning. I'll bet he's going out there buying that new puppy, getting his new presidential wardrobe together and helping Michelle clean up the house after 2 years on the road (well, that's what I'd be making my husband do...). There must be a lot of dust bunnies floating about.....

As for me...I'm taking a philosophical view on the winning-losing thing today. I mean, I can't just shut off that winner-loser thing in my head just because the election is over. These slugging-it-out candidates (and quite a few more...) have been with me since well before my lapband journey began. So, perhaps that's why I'm thinking about winning and losing today. And...lets face it, winning and losing is what I've been thinking about most of my life--as it pertains to weight that is. In the world of dieting....the only way to win is to lose. Or, visa versa. Simple in it's reasoning yet so complex in it's meaning. Which puts the entire concept of winning and losing all twisted and turned upside down...in my head at least.

To continue....as much as I'd like to be a Queen, I certainly would not want to be president. So, if I were running, I think I might want to lose. Winning seems like too much work. Losing seems like the way to go. Sure, you worked hard to try and win. But, if you did win, it's not like you get a prize! It would mean that more (MUCH MORE) work is ahead of you. Listen, I've watched enough "West Wing" episodes to know that this president thing is a 24/7/365 thing. Once I did the rallying and the partying and all that visiting and chatting with the Joe Plumbers and kissing babies, I'd rather just say "yeah, that campaign was a grand old time but now it's time to go to the beach, lay on the sand, drink margaritas and listen to non patriotic music...". I mean, that's what I would say. And, I'd consider that winning for sure! As for the queen thing...you don't have to run a campaign to be queen so you're not completely pooped out by the time the queen thing happens. You just become a queen and then you get all the crowns, big jewels, amazing shoes and ball gowns and stuff. Right? So, being queen would be fine. President....I don't think so.

So, where am I going with this? Nowhere, really. I'm just saying that sometimes when you lose, it's a good thing and sometimes when you win, there's just more work to do. It's all in how you look at it. As for me....I've been winning and losing for so long that I've become accustomed to the pants sizes that go along with it all. Just as long as our new leaders don't outgrow their pants (or, like our moms would say..."get too big for their britches"...) then we'll all win.

The Morning After.......

Every race has a finish line. And, the finish line we've all been waiting for arrived late last night. Someone had to win the race. Someone had to lose. That's just the way it goes. Congratulations to the winner, condolences to the loser. That's why I chose a journey instead of a race this time. Not that I'm any smarter than our Forefathers. I just know that in races there are winners and losers. And, there's always a finish line. I've been in many,many races--Atkins, Jenny Craig, South Beach--to name a few. I speak from experience.
Winning the race is only the beginning.....ask any life long dieter....

May God bless Mr. Obama.....

Born In the USA.........

Whether you are a cool rocking daddy in the USA or a cool rocking mama in the USA...you've got a job to do today. So, put on your favorite shoes, pucker up and put on some age defying lip color, spritz on a little of that lovely perfume and get your sassy strut going.....
Because, sweetie, YOU are picking the next PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES today......
As for me....I'm heading to the polls momentarily. I'm gunning to be #1 in line. With the big voter turn out that's expected, I want to beat the crowd. Well, to be honest--my voting poll is on my walking route. So, I'll just work it out so that I can end there a little before the doors open. Okay, okay....I'm not really gunning to be #1 in line...I'm just hoping it works out that way. And, I definitely hope to beat the crowds! But only because I don't want to run into anyone I know without my heels, my cha-cha outfit and my lipstick on. (but that doesn't mean you shouldn't look your best...!) Yes, I'm a vain voter.
Speaking of the election....yesterday, Hilary herself paid a personal visit to my little suburban hamlet to rally the troops at the Obama headquarters on our main street. From what I hear...from my sister-in-law who was trying to get to her chiropractor (she never made it)...things were rather wild up there with all the secret service, campaign workers and supporters on hand. And, to think, I was way across town at work. I guess all the folks who don't have jobs got to chat with her and check out her pantsuit....
From where I'm sitting (in my little office off of the kitchen), I'm thinking that today is going to be a long day....from the time I cast the first ballot of the day until the last votes are counted. Just 24 hours ago, I was sick and tired of all the campaigning and I still feel that way. But, today is election day. A new day to a new way. Oh, I feel a wonderful excitement in the air! Just think...tomorrow morning, the world will be different. Well...except for the fact that I'll still have to go to my staff meeting (wonder if the new prez can do something about that!) and my family will still want to eat dinner. But....a new president....that's pretty big. Speaking of presidents and being big.....the other day it occurred to me...there hasn't been an obese presidential candidate or an obese president as long as I can remember. Perhaps that's why insurance companies were never mandated to throw money at helping people fight obesity and put an end to it for good. I'll bet if that happened....we wouldn't be having this conversation. Well...let's look on the bright side....maybe it's all for the best. I don't know if I would have wanted to miss my Lapband journey. Well, maybe just a little.........
Now you know where I stand politically....I'm voting for the one who weighs the most...only because he weighs the most....
;-)

Yes, it is November....

The fever pitch and the last ditch efforts of this campaign has littered my mind so much so that my blogging is being impacted this morning. My head is filled with noise and mantras and voices. It's all twisted and garbled and it's pushing out the important stuff, the creative stuff and the good stuff. I am having one hell of a time getting my thoughts out from behind the messages that have assaulted me non-stop for the past few months. Yes, I will vote because I think it's important and I think it's the right thing to do and I think it's my responsibility and my priviledge. But, damn it, I am not going to participate in any more one-way conversations with machines or hyped up volunteers who are standing on my porch!!!

Therein lies the criminality of politics. When our daily lives are compromised then I say it's time to take a stand. After a weekend of political phone calls, campaign workers knocking at my door and way too many election discussions, I'm anxious for the next 24 hours to go quickly. I'm all for the democratic way and change and freedom to vote and everything else that goes along with living in a free society where our voice matters. But, honestly, enough is enough. The next person who calls me or knocks on my door and asks me who I am going to vote for, I am going to tell them that I will vote for the candidate who opposes the drink tax, who will reinstate smoking in bars and who makes it unlawful for Americans to work on Mondays and Fridays. It's that simple. It's what I care about right this second. The only platform I want to hear about come Wednesday is PLATFORM SHOES and whether they should make a come back or not......

You just don't mess with a girl and her blog......

Dress Rehearsaling...........

...we can turn back the hands of a clock but we can't turn back the hands of time...so we have to make the most of what we have on our hands.... (and you can quote me on that....)


Now that I've had my little rant about "my look" and did my whining over aging, it's time to get down to business. The business of getting it all right. Thankfully, I'm armed with some good advice from my faithful and very knowing readers. And, my resident shopping partner and all around fashion and style guru has weighed in on the matter. In addition, being the information hound that I am, I also decided to take an academic look at the matter by investing in literature. Yes, I caved in and bought a style book for the aging woman. Have no fear, I dawned Jacki O sunglasses and put a silk scarf over my head when I wandered into Barnes & Noble to buy it. Just in case....

Prior to my jaunt to Barnes & Noble, I needed to do a little research on what reading material is out there for women who find themselves in my situation--on the verge of 50 and needing an education on what a good 50 looks like. What I found was quite surprising. The good news is that there are a lot of people making a lot of money on women like me. Why is this the good news? Well, I look at it this way--if people are making money that means that there are people out there needing help. And, if there are people out there needing help and buying up these books then that means that I am not alone. Knowing that I'm not alone with these issues feels a little more friendly than thinking I'm the only close-to-50-year-old who just figured out she's wearing the wrong jeans. Now for the bad news--there's a lot of people making a lot of money on women like me. Why is it the bad news? Well, when you're this close to 50...it's not like you have a lot of time to figure out which book would be the best one to buy. If you want to arrive at 50 in good style...you need time to make that happen. And, to make that happen, I wanted and needed help. Yes, I'd love to hire a stylist or get picked for a make over show. But, since the chances of those things happening were slim to none--I wanted a guide of some sort that I could put into practice and test out a little bit so that by the time I got to 50...I'd be doing 50 in perfect style.
So...after a little shopping around, I happened upon a book that I picked almost 100% because of it's title. Staging Your Comeback by Christopher Hopkins. The title itself felt right to me. And, it went along with my thinking. So, I snatched it up and ran home to begin reading it. Although we had an incredibly busy weekend, I stole time away every chance I could to read. It's a page turner...that's for sure. Especially the make overs!

Now, I'm going to start practicing the things that I am reading. One thing that I won't have to worry about that Christopher (my new stylist!) keeps stressing is the weight loss thing. He does spend a little more time than probably needed on the fact that weight does age a person. He strongly encourages women to first loose weight as a way of getting ready for their "second act". I'll admit it...I did smile to myself each time he mentioned it. I gotta fess up here...it's the first time in my adult life that I was reading about weight loss and not feeling overwhelmed by it!!! And, since I'm not sidelined by that, my mind is freed up to follow the tips in the book...I can devote 100% of my time on the style and make up tips. That means that over the next few weeks, I'll be testing some new looks and see how it goes. It's already influenced me...just in the 48 hours since I've owned it. As a matter of fact--I did a little bit today with my choice of lip color. Christopher is saying to tone it down. He says that dark colors age a woman. Hmmm....I just love, love, love red lipstick. But, after I put on a light shade, I swear I could almost feel the years lift from my face. It might have been a coincidence but I swear that the lipstick change is what possessed me to dig around my closet for a little vest that nips at the waist (one of those things I bought on a whim). I know, I know...it was only lipstick. But, it changed everything today. In my heart of hearts, I always knew lipstick would save me someday.....
Yes, I know life is not a dress rehearsal. But, I don't give a shit. Nope, I don't. From now until January 23, I'm going to be rehearsing for my next act...the one where I am the star....