Farewell to my MARCH MADNESS!!!!

Let's talk about those nasty extra pounds.....

that sneak up when you aren't watching.....

MY OLD LIFE....

It happened.
When I least expected it, I've gained a few pounds.
Based on the fact that a pair of pants that I easily glided on in November would not zipper comfortably the other day--it's probably more like 8-10 pounds.
I'm going to go with 9.
I don't like double digits....when it comes to weight gain.
So, I'm back on the band wagon.

But, what does that mean?

Like many of my banded brethren, I have vowed never to diet again.
And, I have no intentions of going back on that vow.
Not now.
Not ever.
I got my Lapband for many reasons.....one of them being the no-dieting thing.
Even though there are moments when I miss the thrill of a new diet....I shall not diet.

Why are there moments when I miss going on a diet?
A diet brings with it hope.
And the thrill of successes.
Plus, it's something new.
I like new and shiney things that bring hope and success.
Don't you?

So, let me tell you---it's pretty tough right now NOT TO GO ON A DIET.
I'm truly sacrificing here by not going on a diet.
I know that sounds absolutely crazy but hear me out.
First of all---I've never been on a diet when I only have to lose 10 pounds from the beginning.
So, that in itself makes me want to go on a diet.
I only have to lose 10 pounds!!
Quite a bit different from the 50, 80 and 100 that I was always facing on every other diet I went on.
It sounds kind of enchanting.
I remember when people would tell me that they wanted to go on a diet to lose 10 pounds.
I would look at them like they had 2 heads! What's 10 pounds?
So, yeah, I would like to be that girl who says she is going on a diet to lose 10 pounds.

Plus, I've been missing the whole idea and feeling of losing weight.
I've sat back in astonishment all these months as I ate those cookies and that chocolate and drank that wine and never gained an ounce.
I mean, it's not like I ate the same volume of food that I did in my pre-banded days!! Heaven's no...thank you Lapband!
But, given that I have always lived with a good food-bad food mentality, I equate cookies and chocolate and wine and chips and nachos as being bad food that you eat when you were being a bad dieter. I soooo deserved to gain weight if I ate them.
Does anyone get what I am saying?
Or, am I really crazy?

Well, all that chatter didn't help me with my problem.
It brings me right back to my quandary....the only way I know how to lose weight is to go on a diet.
And I am not going on a diet.
But, damn I have to get rid of these 9 pounds.....

I need my groove back!!!

If you happen to have it, please return it immediately.
No questions asked.


The Monsters of March have invaded Judiland.
And, I don't have the energy or the time to chase them away.
I'm praying that the Angels of April will swoop in and inject me with some fresh spirit.
March is just one of those months.
Or so it seems.
Spring pokes its head out to tease you.
You're just plum tuckered out from winter--so you welcome the sunshine and warmth.
Then, bam....just like that, it's cold and there's talk of snow.
Just when you've had quite enough, thank you.
Just when you are aching to put away the heavy coats and the gloves and the boots and the wool blazers and the turtlenecks and drag out the sunny tops and the cute little capris and the sandals...the weather tells you no, no, no, you gotta wait a little while longer.
It's tiring. Enough to make even the most optimistic girl feel like pulling the covers over her head and sleep until it's really SPRING.

The funny thing about doing a daily blog is that you can always go back to see what you were up to at the same time last year and the year before and the year before that.
Just like clockwork--I find that March always gives me a one-two punch.
Other than the fact that the St. Pat's Day Parade and the holiday itself gives these 31 days a bit of excitement....March is just a month of waiting.
I'm just not the patient type.
So, I get restless and kinda cranky.
And tired.
Exhausted, really.
Not the best look for me. Especially at my age....

It's times like this that remind me that I really miss those energy shots at Starbucks......

Schedules smedules......

Here, there and everywhere!!!!
That's where I've been the past few days.....immersed in schedules.
Everyone's schedule but my own.
It's a wonder a girl can get anything done when she's at the mercy of everyone's else's needs and wants and time tables!
I suppose that explains the piles of laundry in the hallway and the dirty dishes in the sink.


Back to my regularly scheduled programming.......TOMORROW.....

Am I a PIG or what?

You be the judge.......

Click on the picture of the pig.....

I'll give you a few moments to read it.....

See....I TOLD YOU I AM A PIG!!!!!

TGIF.....it's time for some PIG behavior.....

I thought I was out but they just keep pulling me back in....

The SCALE Mafia.....

Once a goumada, always a goumada.....to the scale.

Sizes schmizes......

Pants schmants.......
I think I love you, so what I am I so afraid of?

Losing 115 pounds can be rather pricey when it comes to wardrobe building.
It's a budget buster with every change of season.
It's the only downside from what I can tell.

You are probably sitting there thinking that since my weight loss is old news and it appears that I've been shopping my way through it, why in the hell am I still trying to build my wardrobe?
Although there are no dumb questions.....that is a dumb question.
Sorry.

Fashion is the way I roll.
To roll with fashion, a girl has gotta shop.
Enough said.

My shopping adventures take me to many places to build my wardrobe.
One thing I will say is that I take great pride in my acumen when it comes to being both fashionable and thrifty.
Thrifty, of course, is not a word that most people would use to describe me but that's probably because they just don't know me that well.
I'm stylishly thrifty.
The stylish aspect is very well known, the thrifty part is a very well-kept secret.
So, we're gonna keep the thrifty part between you and me. Deal?

I love to shop at off-price stores like Marshall's (and T.J. Max and Steinmart and Burlington), at little out-of-the-way boutiques, with online retailers such as Modcloth and at junior type stores like Forever 21---to name just a few of my regular bargain-hunting haunts.
I adore coupons for Chico's and Coldwater Creek as well as their sale racks and online deals.
I always like to whirl through Anne Taylor, White House-Black Market, Anthropologie and Cache.
I'm always up for a trip to Old Navy, H&M and Target.
And, last but not least---I have a very strong adoration of upscale resale and consignment shops.
You get the picture....I like to get what I want, wear what I like, be fashion forward and stylish, look good and feel good and not spend a fortune for it all.
After all, I not only have an image to maintain but I have to save some money for contraband cigarettes, martinis, good gin, chai lattes, groceries and college tuition....

One of my absolute fav places to visit at least twice a month is a consignment shop just a few miles from my house--The Savvy Fox.
This place is chalk full of wonderful, like-new (and even sometimes new) treasures---from gorgeous home decor items from sample homes and designers to hi-end haute culture clothes and shoes.
Everything in the store is stellar.
It is a downright thrilling shopping delight.
And, the cherry on top of the experience is the women who work there.
Polished. Knowledgable. Fashionable. Helpful. Insightful. Personable.
The owner and the entire staff has exceptional taste and work very hard at giving the place a very boutique-y feel. They only accept top notch merchandise and they display everything beautifully.
They have a huge customer following and thousands of adoring fans so it is always full of like-minded, fashion-thinking shoppers.....making it even more fun to visit.

So, last week, on one of my visits to the shop, I came upon four pair of gorgeous linen pants.
Size 12 petite. $22 a piece. All from the same designer.

Size 12 petite? Hmmmm. No, I wear a Size 8 petite. But, how perfect would they be for my Spring wardrobe? Maybe I could take them to the tailor and have them altered? No, that would mean I'd have to find a tailor, go the tailor, spend the extra money, yadda, yadda, yadda. It didn't seem worth it.
Plus, I probably wouldn't get around to doing it anyway. But, gee, how great would that be to have four pair of beautiful linen pants? They were so nicely tailored. They would be so perfect with all of my jackets for the office. They could go dressy or casual.
Wouldn't the cream ones look adorable with my silver lacey top that has the attached cream camisole?
Oh and I can just see those light pink linen pants with my pink suede mules.... Yeah, maybe a tailor would be a good idea.

Okay....maybe I should just try them on.
So, I went up to the counter to talk to one of my favorite sales women....Joni...so that she could set me up in a dressing room.
"OOOH, you always find the best stuff! Aren't those pants gorgeous?" she said.
"Yes, but I'm afraid they will be too big," I told her.
"You never know. It's hard to say if the sizes are right since they could have been altered already, " she explained.
I hadn't thought of that.
So, off into the dressing room I went....to try on the Size 12 petite linen pants.

2 pair fit perfectly. Ahhhhh...... 2 pair were a wee bit too tight.

What was the deal with THESE PANTS?

Immediately, I put the pants back on their hangers and left the dressing room.
I'll be damned if I'm going to buy size 12 petite pants that fit! I'll be double damned if I'm going to buy size 12 petite pants that are too tight! I don't care how perfect they are! NOOOOOOOOO!

As I emerged from the dressing room, Joni stopped me...."well?"
"I am sure they were altered to be smaller," I told her.
"Well, that's good for you!" she smiled.
"Well....um.....yeah...." I stumbled....I didn't want to tell her that I just downright refused to buy size 12 petite.
Was I turning into a size snob?
"They are gorgeous pants!" she said, smoothing her hand over the fabric.
"Well, I just don't know..." I stammered.
"Do you love them?" she asked, trying to help me decide.
Little did she know that I had already decided they were not coming home with me.
No matter if they were just perfect and a wonderful bargain.
"Well, 2 of them might work, " I said hesitantly. (the other 2 wouldn't work because they were too tight but I didn't say that!)
"So, if you love them, get them!" she said without a speck of pushy salesmanship. She was speaking more like a good shopping buddy.
"Yeah, I'm going to think about it..." I told her as I put them back on the rack.

A few moments later as I was perusing the shoe aisle, I saw another woman excitedly find the linen pants.
"I'm not even trying these on! Size 12 petite, they will fit perfect!" I heard her telling her friend.
I wasn't quite sure what to do.
Should I tell the woman that they might not fit?
What would I say?
"Hi there, you don't know me and I don't know you but I just want to say that I know you think you fit into a size 12 petite but you might not...."

Before I had the chance.....the woman who thought she found the perfect pants was pulling out her wallet and buying the pants.

Good-bye perfect pants.
Yes, I think I loved you.....

Let's try this again.......

Yesterday morning couldn't have been more hopeful....for a Monday.
Yes, I was tired and dragging from a weekend filled with...well....a weekend.
But, it was a good weekend.....a good tired is better than a bad tired any day.
Yes, even though I spent 20 minutes racing around the house looking for my sweet new trench coat, I was still optimistic about my day.
(Only to recall on the drag race into the office for a meeting that I didn't wear it home on Friday.....I left it in my office.)
When I got to the office....there it was. Right where I left it.
Seeing my darling trench coat confirmed for me that the possibility for a productive day was good.
I would get through my office to-do list with no problem and then cap the day off with a haircut and coloring. And, maybe even a glass of wine while watching "Dancing With the Stars"
That was my Monday plan.
I wasn't looking for much.

Well, things didn't quite go that way.
AT ALL.
My to-do list got put on my to-do list.
My hair appointment got moved to a later time.
I got home too late to watch anything but the 10:00 news.
I was tired and cranky and hungry and tired and cranky and hungry.
I poured a glass of wine for dinner.
I didn't have the energy to decide on what I wanted to eat and I definitely didn't have the energy to cook anything.
Dinner was a glass of Coppola Bianca.
No protein. So, shoot me.

Halfway into the glass, I somehow passed out on the couch.
Four hours later, I woke up to the sound of my wine glass crashing to the ground.
Yes, I fell into a deep sleep while holding my glass of wine.
For 4 solid hours I sat comatose on the couch, in my work clothes--shoes and all--holding a 1/2 way full glass of wine and I did not lose a drop of wine. Until it crashed to the ground, of course
But, for 4 hours, while sound asleep, I managed to retain my dignity....

I am good....ain't I?

Now, let's see if I can master my to-do list....

Hello Spring!

Please say YOU ARE REALLY HERE......

Whadda ya know? I'm a lady!

I ain't no woman.....

Yesterday, during a bout of much-needed retail therapy, I decided to take a little adventure and visit a store where I haven't been in several years.
It was a sunny day, I had a bit of a break in the action and I figured it was a good time to shop.
Although the stores on my side of town are fine, I was in the mood for something different.
I wanted a treasure hunt.
I wanted to root through piles of stuff and racks of things to find ridiculous bargains.
Sometimes that's what a girl needs to do.
When that craving hits, the only place to go is Gabe's
So, I put on my size 8 cargos, my shiney red shopping shoes and my cooler than cool aviator shades and I headed across town.
Of course, I stopped for my beloved Chai Latte.
It wouldn't be a Saturday if I didn't get a chance to lay my eyes on my hottie neighborhood barrista. And, have my chai fix.
Ahhhh...all was good with the world.

I rolled down the window and let the wind blow back my hair.
Cranked on the rock and roll and snuck a smoke.
I was on a mission.
To fill my car with stuff I didn't need.

After driving many miles---there it was--the mecca of off-price shopping--right where I left it.
Once inside, I was shocked at how much had changed.
At one time, I knew that place like the back of my hand.
But no more.
I was a stranger in a strange land.
A land filled with everything a girl who loves bargains and junk could want.
And, it felt so good. I had arrived.

As I stopped to breath in the aura that only Gabe's can muster, I must have looked as though I was in a trance. Or, confused and lost. Or, something.
"Lookin' fa somethin?" an older gentlemen with several missing teeth asked me, snapping me back to reality.
Ahhhhhh.....
"Are--ya-- lookin--fa--somethin?" he asked me, as if I were a remedial listener.
He didn't appear to work there.
"Didya lose somebody?" he asked, trying to guess why I was just stopped dead center in the entry way, casting my eyes about the store.
Hmmmmmm......yes, I was looking for something.....but I didn't know what.
So, I looked at him and said the only thing I could think of--- "women's clothing"
He eyed me up once. Then, he eyed me up again.
I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable.
"Ya ain't no woman!" he half-laughed, half-sniffled.
"No. dat department filled wit the big girls. Ya know what I'm sayin?" he explained as if he were an expert.
"Dats where my gal is now!" he winked at me.
"No. You go right over der in the corner past the earrings and shit. Dat's LADIES clothes. Where the skinny gals go. You a lady. Ya ain't no woman." he told me as he pointed across the store.
"Thank you" I said with a smile as I headed to where the skinny girls go.

So, there you have it.....I am a lady.

My love affair continues......

With Trader Joe's polenta!
This stuff is just incredible.
I*N*C*R*E*D*I*B*L*E
A great little Saturday afternoon lunch!

Join me today for LUNCH.
Check out this easy, wonderful recipe for Polenta Pizzaiola.
It's 5-star quality in my book!
I'm sure you can use it with any brand of Polenta. I am just completely enamored with TJ's!
I'm pairing mine with a crisp and delightful Pino Grigio.
I suggest you do the same.
Go ahead.....be decadent!!!
After all, isn't that what we all deserve after a long week in the trenches?

Polenta Pizzaiola

• 1 package TJ's Organic Polenta
• 1 jar TJ's Traditional Marinara
• 1 container TJ's Fat Free Ricotta Cheese
• 1/2 cup TJ's Quattro Formaggio Shredded Cheese

Preheat oven to 375 degrees and spray a baking sheet with olive oil. Cut the polenta into 1/2 inch thick slices and place them on the baking sheet. Spread a generous tablespoon of marinara sauce onto each polenta slice. Then place a generous tablespoon of ricotta over the marinara onto each slice. Sprinkle the top of each slice with some shredded cheese. Bake in the oven for 15 minutes. Place under the broiler for about 5 minutes or until cheese is glowing golden. Serve as an appetizer or alongside a fresh green salad or a bowl of soup. [Alternative: Replace TJ’s Traditional Marinara & TJ’s Quattro Formaggio with TJ’s Salsa Autentica and TJ’s Shredded Mexican Cheese Blend.]

Serves: 8 - 10
Cooking Time: 20 - 25 Minutes

I AM NOT WORTHY....

Now that I am thinner.

Hear me out folks.
I was shunned last night.....on St. Patrick's Day nonetheless....


It's story time...


When my daughter was in high school, she was friends with a girl who we will call Jenny.
They were cheerleaders together. They went to each other's birthday parties, slept over each other's homes, etc....
In the early years of their cheerleading career, when they cheered at games mid-afternoon, I would escape from the office and race to the games and sit with a group of parents---Jenny's parents being part of the group.
Jenny's mother---who we will call Mary (a willowy beauty)--would always save me a seat.
Jenny's father--who we will call Pat (not an extremely handsome fellow--in fact, he was very odd looking-- but he was very sweet) would always tell me that his wife just loved me. He always said it in a most appreciative way.
When it was cold, he would bring me hot tea and an extra blanket.
I always found it quite strange that he would gush so much and that he worked so hard at being attentive to me.
Yet, considering that he doted on his wife and daughter and lavished them to the point of ridiculousness, I just figured he was just that kind of guy.
In the beginning, I never had any illusions that he was fawning over me for any reasons except that he was who he was.
As time went on and I began to get to know Mary, I realized the woman was just a bitch.
A beautiful bitch but a bitch nonetheless.
As more of the mothers began to shun Mary (for good reason!), I came to realize that Pat's behavior was a thank you to me for putting up with this woman who he so clearly adored.
As time went on, I could not understand Pat's adoration. She was just so awful to him--flirting with other men in front of him, belittling him in public, sharing his embarrassing faults and ordering him around.
Other than the fact that she was downright gorgeous from her flowing hair to her immaculate pedicure, there was nothing to like about the woman.
She was completely self absorbed and downright mean.
EXCEPT WHEN IT CAME TO ME.
She treated me special.
Silly me....I just figured it was because she liked me.
Yet, I could not figure out why she was so horrible to everyone else.
When other mothers would say things about Mary...I would always defend her.
After all, she always saved me a seat.
It was a very uncomfortable situation.
I should mention that I was well over 200 pounds at this time.

Thankfully, it all ended when the girls were not on the same cheer squad.

The next year, when I heard that Mary had dumped Pat, I wasn't quite surprised.
Word on the street is that she used him for his money.

A few months after the split, I ran into Mary at one my favorite little places.
She was thrilled to see me. We had a glass of wine, shared some small talk and then went on our separate ways.
After that, I would run into her at the same place every so often and we would share hugs and pleasantries.
I should mention that I was still well over 200 pounds.

Then, I heard she moved to Florida with a new guy.
No more Mary.

So, imagine my surprise a few months ago when I ran into Mary and Pat sitting at the bar at a little place nearby.
There was no way to avoid them so I approached them and said HELLO.
They both seemed extremely happy to see me--almost giddy, Pat offered to buy me a drink and Mary hugged me as if she really missed me.
AHHHHH..........
We chatted until my friend arrived and then we went off for dinner and drinks.
Before they left the bar, they came over to kiss me goodbye and tell me that they would love to get together soon. Both of them gushing about how great it would be to get together and catch up.
I should mention that I was wearing a very puffy, furry winter coat.

So, last night, when I saw Mary and Pat at the bar wearing their green and looking so very festive, I thought it was my duty to go over and wish them a Happy St. Patty's Day.
Me in my size 8 petite lime green jeans, lime green tank with my lovely matching jacket, my green western clogs and my flaming green hair....
As I approached them, I could see an odd look in Mary's eyes.
I just figured she had one too many green beers.
Pat was smiling warmly, his Irish eyes were inviting me over.
I touched Mary's back, giving her my holiday greetings....
She turned around and said "oh hi..." in a most degrading way--as if I was bothering her--and then she returned to her drink.
Pat extended his hand hesitantly. I shook it, offered him my greeting and stood there waiting for something.....anything....
NOTHING.
Absolutely nothing.
I was dumbfounded.
And, yes, I was a bit embarrassed.
Was it my GREEN HAIR?

My wise friend Kate told me that my hair had nothing to do with it.
It was my body.
She said that Mary doesn't associate with women unless they are fatter than her.
After thinking it all over---I realized that Kate is right.
I am not worthy of being Mary's friend.
I guess she won't be saving me a seat ever again...

Lipgloss please........

Happy St. Patrick's Day!
I'll be waitin' on your kisses.........

It's beginning to look a lot like.....

St.Patrick's Day!

Yes, it's St. Patrick's Day Eve.....here's something to get you in the mood.....

Beware of the Ides of March.....

Maybe if Julius Caesar would have listened to that weird little fellow on the street, he would have made it home that day.....


After spending way too many hours glued to the TV last night watching the devastation in Japan, listening to the experts talk about radiation and waiting for news of what is happening next, my heart is heavy and my head is spinning.
The images of an entire town being swept away....a town just like the places where you and I live....are etched in my brain this morning.
And, it's got me wondering about things a little more than I usually wonder.
Typically, I'm not an overly superstitious person.
Sure, I have my share of little rituals and ideosyncracies. But, for the most part, I don't really think that there's this aura of harm that impedes life just for the hell of it.
Plus, I am not a doom and gloom kind of person.
I'm optimistic and go-with-the-flow and think that good will always beat evil and that life is wonderful and that people naturally want to be good and that if I'm a good, kind person, God will keep me safe.
Yes, that's what I really think.....most of the time.
I like the simplicity of that thinking.

As I was sitting there listening to the experts and the news casters and all of the debaters, I was overcome by the uncertainty of life and had a very deep uneasiness about what's happening in the world and I wondered if this is all somehow trying to send us a message .
Trust me, that kind of thinking doesn't happen to me that often.
Part of me tried to laugh off the thought.
Yet, the question about it's forbodance stayed with me all night long.
This morning, I'm left with an usual feeling of discomfort, achiness and darkness.
A CNN hangover?
Still feeling the effects of my St. Pat's Day Parade escapades?
Coming down with a cold or the flu?
No. No. And no.
I've self diagnosed.
I'm pretty sure I'm suffering from a combination of a true sadness for what the good people of Japan are enduring (with great grace and humility, I must add) and a deep level of suspicion that maybe...just maybe...the universe is trying to speak to us in ways that make us stand up and listen and we are not really listening.

Is there really something much greater to beware?
How would we know?
I really hate not knowing.

No need to put my face on the milk carton!

Unless, of course, it's a good picture of me.....

(My dear friend Kate and I on parade day at Easy Street rocking to Michael Gallagher)

Call off the Amber alert!
I'M HERE!
I was just a wee bit SHAMROCKED for the past 48 hours.
St. Patrick's Day Parade day can do that to a girl.

Forgive me, friends, for I did not blog.....

Yesterday was a day of rest.....well.....sort of.....
We had to change the clocks so I got just a wee bit out of whack plus I had to pack Toni up and then drive her back to collegeland and then I had turn around and drive back home again.
YES, that's what I had to do.....feeling just a wee bit green all day long.
But, that's what we mothers do.
We don't let a little Irish flu stop us from being the wonderful moms that we are!



As for today......

I truly believe that there should be a law that you cannot change the clocks the weekend of the St. Pat's Day parade and that the Monday after parade day should be declared a national holiday.
There's enough Irish politicians out there...... why didn't they do this????
Why does it take an Irish lass to come up with the good ideas?

TGIF, SNOW, RAIN, PARADE DAY TOMORROW......

So, you know what that means?
My green hair might get wet, drool down my face and mess with my shamrocks.
Thank Got I got myself a hat.

So, if you're going....look for me, I'll be the girl in this GREEN HAT.....

We're counting down the hours until the Pittsburgh St. Patrick's Day Parade here in Judiland.
It will be a great day for THE IRISH in me....


Have a great Friday everyone and if I don't see you here on Stories from the Road tomorrow, just know that I am ShamROCKIN'.....

Public service announcement.......

My beloved mother died at the age of 53.
She was a life long dieter.



What was my mother's final diet?
What diet did she begin in the Summer of 1972?
What diet helped her lose 83 pounds in less than one year?

It was a diet that consisted of 500 calories a day.
And....daily injections of pregnant women's urine (to obtain the hormones).

My mother was diagnosed with incurable intestinal cancer in April of 1973.
She died in May of 1973.
Leaving behind 3 little girls.
An entire family was torn to shreds by unbearable grief.
A grief that always lies under the surface.
As it will forever.


I know you want to lose weight.
And, I know the thrill of a new diet with lots of promises is exciting and enticing.
Really, I get it.
But, it's not a new diet.
My mother did it in 1972.
It killed her in 1973.

This is 2011.
We know better.

And, if we don't know better....I'm here to tell you....as my mother would want me to do.
You've got more to lose with the HCG Diet than pounds.
I should know.....




Sorry for the drama blog friends but when I heard about this on Good Morning America yesterday....I just knew I had to say something here on my blog.....

Ashes! Ashes!

We all fall down.....

Yep, it's Ash Wednesday here in Judiland.
What that means is that I'm smack up against a few challenges.
Between dealing with my Wednesday morning scuttlebut and working out my schedule in order to make the time to get my ashes artfully placed on my forehead, I also have to figure out how to do my Lenten duty of force feeding my family seafood for dinner while also making said dinner a special farewell to Vince occasion.
Yes, Vince is returning to PhDland tomorrow morning.
His little Spring break is over.
He must return to his research.
So, as I scurry about my morning duties, race to the office, deal with everything that's sitting on my desk (that I didn't deal with yesterday because I sat in a full-day of training)--all the while feeling just a little bit sad that will soon I will be bidding our wonderful time with our fun son good-bye--I must pull together a plan to find a restaurant between Carmen's worksite, my office and our home (since the kids will be traveling from home).
It has to be one that is not only convenient to get to within a reasonable amount of time but that also serves a killer fish sandwich and has a decent wine list.
Carmen will have to travel to join us.
Vince will want a killer fish sandwich.
And, I'll need wine.

So, that's my Ash Wednesday.
Today is probably not the best day to give up chocolate.
But, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
My father and the Catholic church expect that much out of me....

It's a real ring around the rosey here in Judiland.
Perhaps I'll wait until tomorrow to all fall down.


Here's hoping your day is a pocket full of posies.....

TAKE BACK TUESDAY!

Take the FAT OUT OF FAT TUESDAY!
Take a stand against labels that give you guilt.

If you want a piece of chocolate.....I say have it.
Not because it's FAT TUESDAY.
But because you want a piece of chocolate.


I've had enough FAT Tuesdays (and Wednesdays and Thursdays and Fridays and Saturdays and Sundays and Mondays....) in my life.
So, for me...declaring one particular day of the year a bonafide, official day that's meant for FAT behavior seems like a waste of 24 hours.
24 hours that we will never get back again.
It's time we start giving ourselves permission to wipe the negative labels.
Life is short. Eat the chocolate. Have the martini. Hell.....have some fun.
If you want to....
But, whatever you do, do not do it because it's FAT TUESDAY.


I say.....if you want to party and indulge....just do it.
Don't label it with that ugly, feel-bad word.


I am the voice of experience.

Living a life filled with FAT Tuesdays followed up by might as well eat some more Wednesdays, let's keep stuffing it in Thursdays , let's see what's on the happy hour buffet Fridays, gee it's the weekend, I deserve to stuff it in Saturdays, eating is my religion Sundays only to return to diet Mondays, I know a thing or two about feast and famine and overindulgence and guilt and all that goes with it.
A few years back, I did an excellent blog post (if I may say so myself....) about the whole Mardi Gras mind set. If you get a chance, you might want to read it for yourself....
Although my thoughts are pretty much the same two years later....I just wanted to share the wisdom of a now 2 year older Judi.
And, that wisdom goes something like this---
Embrace each day.....yes even today.....as a day to live the life you want and not let the word FAT become a part of it!!!

So, yes, that means if you want to be wild, indulge in sin, eat 6 Big Macs and live out your wildest fantasies today (CharlieSheenasize) then I say party on.

Because that's how you roll....

Mardi Gras Monday.......

Repeat after me......INDULGE!


Fruit is an excellent way to start your day......


Monday comes no matter what.....might as well greet it healthily!

Happy Mardi Gras!

Married white female seeking.......

the best crab cake in all the land, a fun Spring lipstick shade, a crisp, well-shaken martini and the perfect pair of shiney red play shoes.

It's rough out there friends but I refuse to give up......

Welcome aboard.....

er....um....also known as Judiland.

I'm the activities coordinator of this Love Boat.
And, the chief cook and bottle washer.
And the laundress.
And the maid.
And, the deck hand.
Sometimes I'm even the entertainment.
And....wouldn't ya know it? I'm steering the boat!

It's Spring break.
It appears my children have opted to take a cruise.
Right here at home......

Today's Activities.....

Judi's Famous French Toast Casserole--a-la Paula Deen
A trip to Starbucks
A visit with Pap Pap
Shopping
Lunching, Drinks and Games at Dave and Busters
A little more shopping for the girls while the boys drink some beer
then it's over to take a trip up the mountain to view one of America's most beautiful skylines
Then, it's on to a late dinner on Mt. Washington at Monterey Bay Fish Grotto
Following it all up with a little late night music and a latte....

Tomorrow's happenings?

Here's a sneak peak......

Tenderloin wrestling, potato smashing and garlic slivering in the kitchen.....


Yes, it's the Love Boat.....

Come Aboard. We're expecting you.
Love, life's sweetest reward.
Let it flow, it floats back to you.......

TGIF.......

Onward!

Time to MOTHERIZE.....

The time has come.....
I have to put on my mom JEANS......
well....not really my MOM jeans....
but my MOM JEANS....
As in....I AM IN CHARGE Jeans.....
because I am the MOM....

My kids are coming home for SPRING BREAK.....

The children are coming home.......

Good bye empty nesting life.....I will be back soon.

It's Spring Break at Collegeland and PhdLand.
So, Vince and Toni are returning to the nest tomorrow night.
This means that I only have 24 hours to transform.
Time to stash the smokes, wear respectable clothing and hide the good gin.
Gotta get back to my mothering ways.......

Let the cooking begin.....

Massage 1-0-1 for Lapbanders.....

RULE # 1--Do not schedule your massage immediately after lunch.


As a special reward for all of our hard work and effort these past few months, yesterday was massage day at the office.
A lovely, thoughtful way to usher out a snowy, cold winter month and get our muscles ready for spring.
Yes, it was a wonderful idea.
Two professional massage therapists set up shop in our conference room and one-by-one, we brought our weary, Mondayfied bodies in for some tender, relaxing care.
I scheduled my appointment for 12:15.
However, at the last minute, I traded spots with one of my coworkers because his work schedule had been derailed.
Since I had some extra time, I decided to eat my lunch before my massage instead of after my massage as I had originally planned.
Cranberry, walnut, chicken salad.....yum!

My wonderful massage therapist had the sheer pleasure of moving the yummy salad through my Lapband...to the tune of stomach music and just a few agonizing groans.

Hello March!