So....what's next?

I suppose it's a good thing that there's always something on the horizon. We may complain and fret. But, when it comes down to it, if we were always looking towards a future that was not there, it would not be so great. So, I'm going to give thanks for the fact that there's lots to do and lots more to come--in this life of mine. And, I'm trying to think of the good things that lie ahead instead of dwelling on what doesn't feel so good. And, I'm working hard at convincing myself that the not so good things really aren't that bad at all. With that in mind--I'm going to start by putting the kettle on for tea and share with you something that lies ahead for us here in Judiland....


Yes, a decision has been made. After all those college road trips to lovely little towns and pretty foliage filled campuses--Toni's heart was captured by just one. The forms have been filled out and the deposit check has been signed, sealed and delivered. It's a bittersweet feeling really. This time next year, not only will I be bidding farewell to the holidays but I'll also be packing up and saying good-bye to both of my children--Vince to PhDland and Toni to BAland--as they head back to their campuses for their Spring semesters. But, for now--it's time to think about college dorm room decorating.....


And, here's a special Happy Birthday shout-out to my lovely, smart and gorgeous niece Alexa. Alexa...I'm putting my sweet Toni in your hands next year!!!

So, what's next for you, my dear blog friends?

You can learn alot about life from a refrigerator.....

...another lesson from the kitchen...

As all the holiday delectables moved into the fridge, the everyday foods got shoved to the back. My almonds went missing. As did my string cheese and protein bars. Each and every one of them were muscled out by fatty, gooey, calorie-laden, not-so-healthy-but-oh-so-good food. As I crammed in yet another dish---maybe it was the left over hot sausage or perhaps the burn almond torte--the yogurt must have fallen off the shelf down into the back cavern of the refrigerator....never to be seen again. Until now.

The holidays are over. It's time to clean out the fridge. No more leftovers. Time for a clean slate. No more mystery containers. Time to take an inventory. Time to check expiration dates. Time to pitch and purge and plan.
And, not just in my fridge....

What day is it?

Has my dementia set in already? I'm not even 50.....yet.


So, do you think this becoming 50 thing is bothering me? I mean, I keep saying that I'm not that kind of girl. Yet, I find the topic creeping into my thoughts more often than I care to admit. I keep bringing it up at an embarrassingly astonishing rate. It doesn't seem to matter to anyone else. Well, except my father. On New Year's Eve, as we were driving to mass, he said "I can't believe you are going to be 50." "Don't remind me", I bristled. To that, he responded--"how do you think I feel? I'm your father! And, remember--your mother and I had you late in life!" I guess he has a point there. Complaining to my 88 year old father that I'm getting old...not a very nice thing to do....especially on the way to mass.

As a favor to myself and my blogger friends, I'm going to take the day off from whining about this age thing. I've got lots of other things to do! For instance, I have stacks of china, wine glasses,gold flatware and pots and pans that need washed by hand waiting for me in my kitchen. There's a pile of dirty linens on the dining room table. And, the fridge is stuffed with foil covered leftovers and half-filled bottles of wine. The remnants of yet another holiday dinner. Oh, how these holidays do me in....! As much as I love to see them come, I'm happy to see them go. By the time I serve my last meal event of the season--New Year's Day--I think I've managed to prepare every type of meat, vegetable and starch known to mankind, I've washed every food vessel in my home at least a dozen times and I've swept up enough crumbs to feed the population of Rhode Island. Perhaps I'm not bothered by this age thing at all. Maybe I'm just exhausted....

Whatever it is that's got me being unJudilike this morning and caused me to be queen bitch last night (after my guests left, of course), I need a sure fire anecdote. I need a shift in my thinking and a little brightness in my outlook. Because this woe is me stuff and crankiness just won't do. It's messing with my attitude and probably contributing to more fine lines and wrinkles. So, as I wash those dishes and scrub those pots and rub those spots off the flatware--I'm going to ponder my options on how to turn things around. I have a new year to deal with and I have my next act to get ready for. I need to get it right.....

2009...........

Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end.
Semi Sonic- Closing Time



Farewell to 2008....it's been swell.
Hello to 2009....I'm on my way.
Farewell to my crazy youth....it's been fun.
Hello to my next act... I'm scared.
So, please, blog friends.....don't go anywhere....

My New Year's resolution is to wear a tiara

...and to be unapologetically....


All this holiday hoopla and family togetherness translates into cooking, cleaning up and cooking and cleaning up. For days on end. Days and nights. And nights and days. All day. All night. Forever. And ever. And ever. And ever.

My very savvy and knowledgable friend Kate always says that in her next life she is coming back as a helpless woman. She has this theory that whatever you do in your first year of marriage, you've set the tone for the rest of your married life. For instance--if you do all the cooking, all the laundry, all the dishes, all the shopping, all the gardening and everything else that goes along with it--then you will always be doing it. I've come to the conclusion that I must have been very busy being super woman in my first year of marriage. Because my reign as the super hero of all things domestic has not come to an end. And, if Kate's theory is correct....it will not be over any time soon.

Unless I say so, I guess. And, I'm not very good at saying so....
And, if truth be told--my family is not very good at hearing it (I've never trained them...).

So, I was thinking....to avoid having to cry and scream and to avoid having to deal with them getting all defensive and cranky---maybe I'll just quietly slip into diva modefor the next 365 days. So, instead of telling them that I am no longer going to be doing everything and risk a guilt trip and possibly lots of tears and misery, I'll just put on a tiara and feign ignorance. As the dishes pile up in the sink, I'll just walk past them in my tiara and head straight to the couch to prop up my feet and read a magazine. As my family waits for dinner, I'll put on my tiara and walk up to my bedroom, fluff up my pillows, turn on the TV and enjoy a night of TV shopping. When the bathroom door will no longer close because the entire room is filled with dirty towels, I'll place my tiara on my head, pack up a little bag and head to a very nice hotel downtown. When the township stops by the house to report that our front yard has become a danger zone because of all of the weeds and thickets, I'll put on my tiara and pretend I don't speak English. When the pantry is bare and there's not even a can of tuna fish to be had, I'll put on my tiara and spend the rest of the day relocating my shoe collection from my bedroom closet to those bare cupboard shelves. Then, I'll head out to my favorite shoe store to fill my bedroom closet once more.

I think it's a pretty decent plan. Don't you? It's very comprehensive--a little shopping, a little magazine reading, a little role playing, some shoes, some bling. Oh yes, it could work.
Now...the only thing I need is a tiara....
What would my family think if I went tiara shopping tomorrow instead of doing the big New Years' Day family dinner thing? Gee...I wonder if anyone would answer the door when the guests come? Because I'm pretty sure opening the door is my job too....

It's almost a wrap....

...but not quite yet....

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year?


There's still a few more words to be written to My 2008 before I place it in my memory book. There's today and tomorrow...day 364 and day 365. Only 48 hours. 48 hours in a year that made a difference. How will I measure my year?


How will you measure yours?

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife?

So, I ask--how will you spend the next 48 hours finishing up the rest of your 2008 Story?

In five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure
A year in the life?

Happy Birthday Italian Style!

Wedged in between all the holiday hoopla comes yet another big day. We're celebrating Carmen's birthday today with a special trip Vince planned. It's all about handmade raviolis and homemade wine. We're all piling in the car for a road trip! Doesn't that sound like the perfect day for my 51 year old Italian Stallion?
Are we there yet?

Judi and the ChristmasColored Dream Coat......

I already told you part of this story. It's about a jacket that set off a multi-year firestorm of dieting....

Now, it's time for the sequel....

Let's start where we left off with my beloved jacket--I had packed it up and gave it to a dear friend who had always admired it. And that's where it stayed. Every year when she would haul it out to wear to a holiday party, she would enthusiastically tell me about all the compliments she received. After all, it was a damn special jacket. I will never forget the day I bought it. Vince was just a little tyke in a stroller and Toni was not even on the horizon. We were Christmas shopping at the mall that day when I spied it in the window of one of my favorite stores of yesteryear--The Icing. The store is now long gone. But, oh how I loved that store and their overpriced baubles and sparkly what-nots. I immediately navigated the stroller into that delicious store and found the jacket. $268. A bit pricey for a mom who had much more Christmas shopping to do and a bit impractical for a jacket that could only be worn once a year. But, damn, I wanted that jacket so bad I could feel it in my limbs. I vowed to have it....when it went on sale. So, from then on--I visited that jacket each time I went to the mall. By December 26, it was mine. It was still a little pricey but it was on sale. My beloved red blazer with embroidered Christmas trees. The one I wore every Christmas Eve....until the picture...

Fast forward to December 23, 2008. I had taken a little time out to share some Christmas cheer with two of my spirited friends. It had been a day of last minute shopping and traffic jams with the promise of more to come. By the time I arrived at the little restaurant-bar where we were meeting, I had done a number on my debit card, my mind and my feet. I desperately needed that Tangueray Gin martini--the first one and the second one. And, I definitely needed a good dose of friendship. Thankfully, by the time we parted, my body and my spirit were refueled for the chore that laid ahead of me--finding an outfit to wear for Christmas Eve. I visited several of my favorite stores--braving traffic and crowds with a hopeful heart. Yet, as the night wore on without finding a suitable outfit, my hope diminished and I became weary. I still had a few groceries to pick up and a few chores to get done when I got home. So, I gave up my search for a Christmas Eve outfit with the knowledge that I would come up with something. Little did I know as I once again headed out into the holiday traffic that " the something" was already sitting on the love seat in my living room. Thanks to the very dear friend who loved my Christmas jacket.....

Yes, that's me....in MY RED CHRISTMAS TREE JACKET.....December 24, 2008

And, here's me in MY RED CHRISTMAS TREE JACKET with Ms. Best Dressed.....


And, here's me in MY RED CHRISTMAS TREE JACKET with the guy I share a special Christmas Eve cocktail with every year....


Yes, it was very Merry Christmas Eve.....me in MY RED CHRISTMAS TREE JACKET. The one I bought oh so many years ago....a Size 12. Thanks to a wonderful friend who has good taste, a big heart and a true appreciation for the fact that I lost 80+ pounds....

THAT picture is now a bad dream. These are the pictures of what dreams of made of....

The gift that keeps on giving......

Fair warning....I'm going to get a wee bit Hallmarky here. I'm just in one of those moods. Maybe it's all that warm and fuzzy holiday spirit that's been going around. Or, maybe it's all part of my end of the year reflection. Or, perhaps it has something to do with me and my 1/2 century thing (you know...because I'm turning 50 in 27 days...). Whatever it is--it's where my head and my heart are at the moment. I'm feeling very reflective and kinda sappy. So, pardon me while I nauseate you with my good will....

I've said it a million times---getting this lapband was the best thing I ever did. And, I mean it. With all of my heart and soul. It's not like I never did anything good or meaningful in my life. Because I have. Lots of things. But, mostly, those things happened to me. Or, they were just all part of the natural order of things--going to school, getting married, having kids,etc. But, my Lapband--I did it for me. Me. Me. Me. Yes, I'm sure you could say that by doing this for ME--my loved ones also reaped the benefits of it. But---honestly--if you want to hear the truth--I did it for me. And, in return--I got more than I bargained for. Much, much more.

This holiday season opened my eyes even further to the joy of my Lapband. My beloved lapband helped me shop, cook, entertain, be with friends and family, go to parties and make merry with more ease and happiness than ever before. Being 80+ pounds thinner was the key to still being able to stand by the end of Christmas Day. It was the thing that got me through malls and grocery stores with enough energy left over to unpack the car then cook and wrap. It was the key to feeling the joy (and not the embarrassment) of running into old friends and cousins and colleagues. And, it slapped a real smile on my face each time I got dressed and looked in the mirror...

You've probably heard the saying--nothing tastes as good as thin feels. Right? It's a dieter's mantra. They are the magic words that are supposed to help you push away that extra helping of pasta or refuse to eat the beautiful chocolates that are sitting in front of you. Clearly, they didn't work for me. As much as I can attest to the fact that truer words have never been spoken--I can also tell you that food had more power over me than my own belief system. Yes, I was positive being thin would be better than a huge plate of pasta dripping in velvety sauce smothered with top quality Romano cheese. And, I definitely understood that my health was much more important than nachos. But, tell that to my taste buds. And my eyes. And my appetite. They were not cooperative. They were stubborn as all hell. They were downright defiant. Until they met their match--my Lapband.

You see, I never really realized how wonderful it is to not be fat. There I said it. I admitted it. I was fat and I hated it. But, I learned to live with it. All those years of making myself believe that my beauty had nothing to do with how I looked or how much I weighed--rubbish. All those self-talks about accepting myself for the person I am--hogwash. Because right now--at this very minute--I can tell you that my self-worth and my self-acceptance are and always have been and always will be--intricately connected to the image in the mirror. Call me a vain self-absorbed bitch if you want. I am who I am (well, I'm really not a self-absorbed bitch..). Thankfully, I'm no longer a fat version of who I am. And, that feels good and wonderful and sweet and amazing and downright fabulous. Because fat Judi was not half as happy as the Judi who sits here on December 27, 2008. I just didn't really know it. Oh, yeah, I suspected it. I avoided knowing it. Denial perhaps. Ignorance perhaps. Let's face it--I still have all the good things I always had. My family, my friends, my life... But, I also have the one thing that makes it all better....my Lapband. The gift I gave myself that has never stopped giving...

Well?

..and, it ain't over yet....

I still believe.......

....in the journey....

With deep appreciation to you--my faithful readers....I send you the merriest of wishes for a beautiful and peaceful Christmas Day. Wherever your journey takes you today...whether it be as far away as the ends of the earth or as close by as your favorite living room chair...may you find a reason to believe.

A Christmas fish tale...

Growing up, as devout Irish-Italian Catholics, we followed every rule the Church put out there. If they said women had to wear something on their heads in church, we would. And, if we forgot our little chapel veils as we raced out the door to mass, we had no problem wearing a fully opened kleenex on our heads. If the Church said no eating before receiving communion, we did it. It's just the way it was. We didn't ask questions--no one asked why. There had to be a good reason...afterall, it was the Church! And, when it came to Fridays and Christmas Eve--the Church said we could not eat meat. So we didn't. We gorged ourselves on seafood. And, in an Italian household, Christmas Eve was the kingpin of all seafood eating.

As a kid, this no meat eating thing got on my nerves--I was getting pretty sick of fish sticks and tuna with pasta. I had no appreciation for smelts, bacala, shrimp, crab or calamari. So, I asked my father why we couldn't eat meat and he told me it was because it was a form of fasting to show God that we would give up things for Him. Which, of course, was not what I wanted to hear. So, I asked my mother--she said "it had to do with those cafones--the fishermen in Italy. They were going broke because no one was eating their stinking fish! Eh...che peccato! So, they had a sit down with the big consigliere--The Pope. Maybe they did a shakedown. Who knows. Afterward, Our Holy Father said we couldn't eat meat..so we didn't eat meat. And, those facia bruti fishermen...they got rich. Then,they gave the Pope a little taste...you know what I mean? Stugots!" I liked my mom's story much better--she always had a way of bringing her Italian Hill District world to our calm little suburb. Well..I liked it...until she said "but you have to do what the Pope says--or else-- an omerta! You'll be struck down the next time you go to church." True to form--the Irish version (my dad) and the Italian version (my mother). A tinge of guilt with the Irish, a big heaping of fear with the Italians!

And, so, this Christmas Eve--if you sit down to feast on shrimp and crab and all those delectable seafood concoctions--you can decide who was right. My father with his tale of sacrifice or my mother's mafioso story. Which ever it is--it is now tradition. A tradition that makes the house smell of fish and keeps you in the kitchen for hours preparing what ends up being---a Christmas Eve I've come to love. Smelts and all.

Tastey Tuesday Recipe Exchange.....The final chapter!

I can feel the hours ticking. My stomach is in knots and my head is in a fog. I'm at that point of the season when I'm on a full-blown-caffiene-adrenalaine-induced- frenzy. It's Judi on speed (oh how I wish!)....I talk fast, I walk fast and I can't do it all fast enough. Did I forget something? Oh, who the hell knows! Do I have every ingredient and every dish and every utensil I need? Give me a break! When will I ever wrap that mountain of gifts in my closet? Get real. Do we have enough booze? Cookies? Nut rolls? Cheese? Olives? Lemons? Limes? Well...all I gotta say is...we better have enough booze. Because if I forgot something--I can at least give them another drink. And, all will be well.

One thing I do know we will have enough of is.....

Fried Ravioli
Ingredients
Olive oil, for frying
2 cups buttermilk
4 cups Italian-style bread crumbs
4 dozen frozen store-bought cheese ravioli..thawed
1/2 cup grated Parmesan or romano
2 jars store bought marinara sauce (I use DeCecco), heated, for dipping
Directions
Pour enough olive oil into a large frying pan to reach a depth of 2 inches. Heat the oil over medium heat until a deep-fry thermometer registers 325 degrees F.

While the oil is heating, put the buttermilk and the bread crumbs in separate shallow bowls. Working in batches, dip ravioli in buttermilk to coat completely. Allow the excess buttermilk to drip back into the bowl. Dredge ravioli in the bread crumbs. Place the ravioli on a baking sheet, and continue with the remaining ravioli.

When the oil is hot, fry the ravioli in batches, turning occasionally, until golden brown, about 3 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the fried ravioli to paper towels to drain. (you may need to clean the oil of the particles half-way through or start with a clean pan of oil)

Sprinkle the fried ravioli with cheese and serve with a bowl of warmed marinara sauce for dipping.
*Note--it also tastes great with a jar of store bought pesto sauce mixed up with a jar of store-bought alfredo sauce (heated). Or, offer 2 different sauces. Scrumptious.

...plus it would go great with that bottle of wine I'm dreaming of drinking right now....





Merry Appetizer Making!!!

And the stockings are hung by the chimney with care.....

....in hopes that St. Nicholas will soon be here....

No, I'm not ready. So, stand back, friends, I'm on a mission. I'm making a list....a long, long list....and, I'm checking it twice. I have no idea when this crazy sleigh ride will end. Let's hope it's before the stroke of midnight December 24th. Because December 25th might arrive but trust me, good old St. Nicholas won't. Not here at least. There is no Christmas in Judiland unless I bring it. As much as I believe in the jolly man in the red suit, I'm pretty sure he's not going to send me a bunch of elves to pitch in with what needs done around here.

Yes, yes, I know, I always get into a state of panic right before a big event. And, yes, I know, I always think I'll never get done. And, yes, it always seems to come together in the end. But, honestly..this death defying, back breaking holiday frenzy is just doing me in. Maybe I'm getting way too old for all of this. Or, perhaps this is getting way too old for me. Either way, I think I have to come up with a better plan for my next 50 Christmases. Come January 23, my crazy youth will be over and I'll have to settle down, cut back...simplify.
But, for now...this 49 year old doesn't have time to think about all that. I gotta rock Christmas...
Like I said....stand back!

Do you hear what I hear?

Compliments are a funny thing. People are afraid to give them---especially when it comes to weight loss. They think that if they tell you how great you look because you lost weight then they are implying that you didn't look great before and that they thought you were fat. Well, I'm here to tell you folks--I was fat and I did not look all that great--especially when compared to how I look now. So, believe me when I tell you--I am completely open to compliments. Bring them on. I've got no problem whatsoever if you tell me that I look great. I've got no problem at all with hearing you say "Oh my God, you lost so much weight.." Just keep them coming....that's all I have to say. Because when you compliment me--that's exactly what I hear--a compliment. I don't stand there and stew "so, he thought I was a big fat pig before" or "oh, look at her, now that I lost weight, she talks to me". So, stop worrying people...when you want to give me or anyone else a compliment on losing weight--DO IT. We worked hard. We know we were fat before. And, we figure you knew it too. So, don't hesitate.....

It was a weekend of people hesitating.

When I left you all--I was still undecided on what I would be wearing Friday night. Drum roll please...I chose a simple black ensemble from my closet--a longer length black crocheted skirt and a simple black wrap around sweater that's secured with a tassel with bugle beading and a pair of black patent sling back's with a red satin bow. I didn't overdo the jewelry (normal weight girls don't really have to if they don't want to!)--black chandelier earrings, a black glitzy bracelet and a chunky silver and black ring. It was a perfect Judi look...classic with a little bit of rocker thrown in. The skirt fit perfectly....not too tight, not too loose and it hit me right at my ankle. Honestly, I felt wonderful in it--hugging my body but not with that feeling of being squeezed into it. If there was a moment that my head and my body were in tune--it was that moment. All of a sudden....I realized that I had lost over 80 pounds. I could feel it....

And, I wanted to hear it. Which I did....sort of. People greeted me with a mix of surprise and shock. One of my dearest friends in the world--my college roomie (who we fixed up with someone Carmen works with a few years back and they are now happily married)--was enthusiastic and overly sweet. Her husband, on the other hand, didn't seem to know what to say--except a sheepish "looking good". The darling wife of another one of Carmen's coworkers--who I ran into in the ladies' room--seemed a bit puzzled when I said hello to her. When she finally figured out who I was, she was unnecessarily embarrassed and apologetic. As I washed my hands and applied more lip gloss, I could feel her stare. Then, a few minutes later--as if on a delayed response---she uttered--"you just look so different! I can't decide what it is...is it your hair?" My college roomie saved her "doesn't she look great? she doesn't want to tell you but she lost over 80 pounds!" The woman laughed nervously "I thought it was that! But, I didn't want to say it!" Then, there was the woman who caught as I walked up to the bar--she motioned for me to come over to talk to her after I got my drink. I nodded in agreement. When I approached her, she quickly pulled me aside "You look great! How did you lose all that weight?" When I told her, she seemed to lose her enthusiasm. Or, maybe she just didn't know what to say. Then,rather self-consciously, she asked if she could email me with a few questions. "Of course!" I told her. But, I have to tell you-- Carmen's boss took the prize when it came to reactions. When he approached me, he said--"I looked over and wondered who Carmen brought with him! I didn't know who you were. Judi you look amazing!Wow! No wonder I didn't know the woman with Carmen!" Then, he seemed to want to catch himself--as if he didn't want to imply that Carmen might be with another woman! "I didn't have my glasses on..." he said sheepishly. A little while later, he pulled Carmen aside to apologize. He said he thought he offended me with his remark that I looked so different. He thought that he might have implied that he thought I didn't look good before. When Carmen told me, I made face..."what did you say?" I asked him. He said he set him straight...he told him I was happy to hear compliments. With that...I turned to my husband...."Yes, I need to hear compliments..." I'm pretty sure he heard me...loud and clear.

The clothes make the girl.....

...yes, you are reading the blog of the mother of the girl voted as the best dressed girl of her senior class....

Finally...all that work paid off! From the day I brought her home from the hospital in her little pink and purple Gymboree outfit with matching headband, sox and shoes to all the first day of school outfits to the amazing dresses for dances--my job is done. She has won the much-coveted title of BEST DRESSED GIRL. All those years... all those shopping trips, all those headbands and shoes and jeans and skirts and pants and sweaters....have brought us to this day. TONI has been been crowned with her rightful title. And, I am the woman with the debit card that got her there.....

And, yet, at this very hour, I sit here fretting over fashion. Yes, friends...tonight begins Carmen's big end of year holiday extravaganza. It's a weekend of glitz and glamour and all things fancy. I have to hop in the car with my bags packed in a matter of hours. And, I'm having a fashion melt down. Tonight, it's a black tie affair--complete with gowns and sparkles and velvet and jewels. Remember last year? Well, this year is last year on steroids. I mean, last year, I looked different---I know. But, this year...I look very different. I may only be down another 40 pounds since last year but I look different. Very different. I am much more toned than I was--thanks to my walking buddy and dear friend Martha who keeps me on task each morning.....she waits at the corner in the pitch dark for me to emerge. And, I walk. And talk. It's the best way to start any day. So...thanks Martha! Because of my new walking regimen, I can see the redistribution of things on my body. I am no longer just one huge belly with a body attached to it. So....I definitely want to make the most of it--fashion-wise, that is. But...hey...I don't want to go so overboard that it seems like I'm trying too hard. It all has to appear effortless. We don't want anyone to know that I've been shopping and stressing over it all.

Okay...you figured me out...I want to be arm candy. I admit it. I want a hush to fall over the entire room. I want people to fawn over me and applaud my success. And, I want Carmen to just about faint when he sees me. It's that simple. I want to look spectacular and fabulous and elegant. AND THINNER! But, I want to stick to my own style. I mean, Judi at any weight does not wear clothes that scream sexpot. Well, at least not to a party with a room full of engineers. What's a girl to do?

I know, I know...you're wondering why I just don't go out and shop! Well...I have to let you in on one tiny little secret--I've already bought several things for this party. They are all upstairs hanging in my closet ready to be chosen. But, are they the right things? I just don't know. Sure, I could forbid my well-dressed daughter from going to school today to help me with my plight. But...that's not a good parent thing to do. Or, is it? No, no. She must go to school. I can't put mommy's fashion in front of a good solid education. Or, could I? No, no. She must go to school. Okay...okay...I'm just going to have to depend on Vince to help me out. My boy is home from PhDland. Although...isn't he the kid who wore pants held together with duck tape and fraternity t-shirts throughout his undergraduate days? And, isn't he the guy who considers a clean hoodie appropriate dress-up wear? Hmmm. Maybe I should just keep my best dressed girl home from school today....

See you next week.....when the real holiday frenzy begins....!
As if this ISN'T a frenzy....

Happy Weekend-Before-Christmas!

How Santa Saved a Fat Man.......

The following was sent to me by a Lapbanded friend last year....I thought I'd share it with you....



T’was the night before Christmas, I’d binged through the house,

I’d just emptied the fridge and I felt like a louse;

My XXXL pants were hung on the chair,

They were getting quite snug, almost too tight to wear.



So I put on my sweats, nestled deep in the blues,

“I will never be thin”, to myself I did muse,

And as deep in depression I dolefully sat,

I accepted the truth: I would always be fat.



When way up on the roof deftly landed two feet,

Landed ever so lightly, the sound so discreet,

That I just barely heard it, but wanted to see

What the source of this sound could potentially be.



Away to the window I stumbled and shuffled

And got such a shock that my shout went unmuffled.

For right there on my roof, standing thin as a stick

And as fit as a fiddle was – that’s right - St. Nick!



Well, I stuttered and stammered – “Santa, you look great,

Please tell me your secret – how’d you lose all that weight?”

With a wink of his eye he extended his hand,

And he said, “Got two words for you, sonny – The Band!”


Kindness Taste Test Update:

I'm confusing everyone! When I go to give someone a candy cane--they tend to stand back a minute to survey the situation before taking it. One woman in line at CVS asked me if I was "collecting for something". Several people refused to take one all together! Now, honestly, if I wasn't being Random Kindess Judi and just being my normal old self, I would have probably made some remark like "what? do you think I'm trying to poison you?" or "can't you just accept that someone is trying to brighten up your day?" Geez! Being that I'm doing the kindess thing sort of "in secret", I don't want to say "listen, I'm just trying to be nice because I'm doing this random acts of kindess thing in December". So, I just have to come up with a good response to everyone's suspicions. As for the lottery tickets--the response has been a little better....one guy I handed it to said "Oh, did I drop that?"
My crusade continues.....

What is YOUR Pot Luck Personality?

It's been said many times--we are the food we eat. At this time of the year, eating is a national event--we eat, eat and eat. We eat it all--traditional ethnic foods, cookies, nut rolls, pies, chocolate, candy canes and appetizers galore. We sit down to big family dinners, we go to office parties and neighborhood gatherings, we go to lunch with friends, we go out to dinner with coworkers and we entertain in our own homes. It's food, food, food 24-7. If we're not eating it, we're thinking about it. And, sometimes even when we are eating it, we're thinking about it. And, we talk about it. We talk and think and eat--food. It's just the way it is. We make casseroles and vats of meatballs to bring to friend's homes. We assemble goodie baskets to deliver to neighbors. And, we wouldn't be caught dead empty handed walking into a party. We cut up cheese and pepperoni, we mix up cream cheese dips and we stock up on fancy crackers and breads. Or....maybe that's just us. Because I've just figured out a dirty little secret....not everyone does all of this. I know it's hard to believe but it's oh so very true. There's an entire population of people out there walking among us who are not all that into food. Or, maybe they are not that much into sharing food. Or, maybe it's more about laziness or selfishness or thoughtlessness. Or maybe it's about money. Or maybe it's about cooking skills or interests. I'm not sure. But, what I do know is that they are not like me and I am not like them. Which, of course, is not a bad thing. It's just a curious thing....to me. How do I know about these people? I go to Potlucks....

Now, believe me, I'm not judging anyone based on the food they bring to a potluck! In fact, I don't want it to sound that way at all. Like I said, it just makes me curious. When I am going to a potluck--I pull out all the stops. I'm inclined to make sure that my contribution is something with star quality. Does that mean that I crave attention? Possibly...I'm not sure. What I would hope is that my reasoning for this is purely selfless. Yet, I've never spent much time analyzing why I bring two entrees and a salad and someone else walks in with a dish the size of my fancy little tea cup. So, I can't say--for sure--if there's any deep seated issues that cause me to go overboard and someone else to do the bare minimum. Maybe it's just all about the food.... And, if it is....what does the food that you bring to a potluck say about your personality?

I think it's worth a look-see. A little research maybe? So...here's the plan....

Since we're in the season of food, next time you go to a potluck....look around at who is bringing what. And, try to figure out if the food they bring matches their personalities. Even if we never come to any concrete result......I'll bet you'll have a grand old time analyzing that woman who walks in with a container of Spam....

Tastey Tuesday Recipe Exchange....Week 3!!!!

The weeks are flying by! Before you know it, we'll all have to pick which appetizers we want to put on our Christmas tables. I've assigned my sisters each 3 appetizers to bring....I wonder if they are reading my blog for ideas! Hmmmm....
In addition to my 3 appetizers, I will do a crab bisque and a festive salad. As soon as Vince returns from PhDland later this week, he and I will put the finishing touches on our crab bisque recipe and then Toni and I will figure out which salad should adorn our table. The desserts are still in the discussion stages. Toni and I will be using next weekend to do our annual cookie bake-a-thon. So, we know there will be cookies. They may not be all-star cookies but I can guarantee you that they will be baked with love and laughter.

As for the libation portion of the day, Vince brewed his "Christmas Beer" when he was home for Thanksgiving. It's still "fermenting" in the back room. So, the beer drinkers will be celebrating with his brew. As a Lapbander (no fizzy or carbonated drinks!) and a non-beer-drinker, I will not partake. I'm thinking of going with a martini bar. The only little concern I have is that most of the male beer drinkers are also big time martini lovers. The thought of them mixing beer and martinis has me concerned. So, I'm thinking about doing more cha-cha martinis as opposed to the old stand-bys. Stay tuned on that....

Yes, these holidays are quite complex here in Judiland. But, I'm working very hard to make them less so. This is a wonderful start. No marathon cocktail hour to be followed by a huge multi-coursed dinner with perfect wine pairings anymore! Knowing when to stop is probably the hardest part for me. Perhaps I'm growing wiser in my old age. Who knows....by next year, I might be serving take-out!!!

Speaking of Take-Out.....

Here's my take on a great and festive looking antipasti!

Arrange on a large platter.....
Buffalo mozzarella....sliced or buy the ones that come in little balls
Olives (I use a variety of green stuffed olives & black)
1 jar of roasted red peppers....you'll need to cut these in bite size(I use scissors)
1 jar fried red/green peppers with onions--in their "juice"
1 jar marinated artichoke hearts--cut in bite size pieces/drained
Large chunk of Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
2 small loaves of Italian bread--thinly sliced on diagonal

Serve at room temperature.


As for my most recent Kindness Taste Test....
This is a tough one. Not because it's tough to be nice. But, it's tough to figure out if it's something I would have done anyway or if it's a new thing that I did because I have tried to be more aware of treating others with random acts of kindness. Anyway....as some of you know, our dear blogger friend Jody is going through a very difficult time following the untimely and tragic death of a family friend. Although this type of situation is heartbreaking and sad in itself, it can become magnified by the fact that it's the Christmas season. In as much as I can support her through encouraging and comforting words, I can't be there in a physical sense for her. But, I can draw from her words to do something comforting and thoughtful right where I am planted--dedicating it to her example of care and friendship. In reading her most recent blog posting about not knowing what pain and loss people carry with them when they are standing right in front of you, I couldn't help but wonder how many times in any given day I pass judgment on the way someone behaves or treats me without knowing what secret heartaches they carry with them. You know--the guy who cuts me off in traffic, the woman who jumps in front of me in a long line, the person who doesn't smile or acknowledge me in the hallway, the individual on the phone who complains without cause and the grumpy old man who makes a snide comment about my park job. I have no idea if the guy in traffic is racing to the side of a dying friend or if the woman in line just lost her job or if the individual on the phone is *this* close to losing her home or if the unfriendly person is living in a loveless marriage or if the old man just buried his beloved wife of 60 years. So, armed with that thinking....I bought a big bag of candy canes and some lottery tickets to randomly pass out. Not to friends or family or to anyone I know. They are just for people I see....

The spirit that resides in all of us......

is for real.....I heard it in a song....


"O Come O Come Emmanuel".....that was the song. A Christmas carol. I have no idea what the words are. But, my Uncle Patsy does.




So, as I was saying...
I've been in this grand funk the past few weeks. Believe me, if I knew why, I'd tell you. One minute I think I know. The next minute I don't. Then, the next minute, it's something else. Then, the next it's not. Well...you get the picture...my grand funk seems to be fickle. Add this fickle grand funk to everything else that's going on in my world and then top it off with the holiday stuff and what you've got is a teary, anxiety-ridden, moody Judi. A Judi who can't sleep, can't concentrate and can't remember if she put gas in her car. I find myself *this* close to crying every hour and I'm having waves of panic grip me. It's not a good feeling. At all. So, I've been thinking--I either need chill pills, a month at a spa, one of those personal assistants the stars all have or a good night's sleep followed by a problem-free, unchaotic, noise-free day. What I didn't need was a day like yesterday. But, that's just what I got.

And, that leads me back to the song.....

So, without going into details as to how it all happened...I'll just say this---I had charge of my dear Uncle Patsy yesterday. Now, I think I've told you about him. He's my dad's younger brother (he's 86). He lived a colorful and madcap playboy life on the trendy side of town. A life filled with the kind of girls you don't marry, politician friends, glitzy parties, fancy cars, dapper clothes and good Irish whiskey. He had the smooth good looks of a movie star and the debonair personality of a count. His life was so full that he never had any children---just my 2 sisters and I--his 3 nieces--who he dotted on when he wasn't whisking away to some exotic place or partying too hard. And, we adored that man like crazy. He was a walking party in our sedate little suburban life. About 8 years ago, he married a wonderful woman. About 5 years ago, he slowly began to fall into the grips of dementia. His blue eyes still sparkle. He greets people with the same polished manner he did for years..."Top of the Morning to Ya..."--and his conversation is peppered with charming one-liners, appreciative thank yous and sweet compliments. He treats everyone as a friend and is an impeccable gentleman. Yet, the only person on this planet who he knows is my father--his brother Frankie. He has no idea what day it is, where he lives, how he got to where he is and what's going on at any given moment.

Okay...okay....I'm getting to the part about the song. I just had to set it up...

I'm not crazy about going to Sunday night Mass. I prefer Saturday night or early Sunday morning. But, with a slew of parties on Saturday and the fact that my father just can't seem to get himself out the door earlier than 1 pm, we went to 7:30 Mass last night. Since I had charge of my uncle--he was coming with us. Even though he had been to Mass earlier in the day with his wife. But, he didn't remember so it was no big deal. I just hope there's no Catholic law that would forbid someone from having Communion twice in one day. Maybe if you don't remember the first time, it doesn't count. Vatican III might address that...

Anyway, as I was saying....I'm in this grand funk. Add that to not wanting to go to Sunday night mass and having to deal with my uncle on a day when I had a list as long as my arm to get done and well....I was not very pleased. I had this woe is me attitude all day and I was feeling mighty miserable. Not at all in the Christmas spirit.

I'm getting to the part about the song....

As I was waiting for Mass to begin (another pet peeve of mine...my dad insists on getting there extremely early so he can say the rosary)...the choir was practicing. They were singing carols. I sat and listened--hoping to ward off my grand funk and my relentless anxiety. As I lost myself in my thoughts...I heard it. The strong, velvety and melodic voice of my uncle. Singing. Clear and precise. Filled with emotion and beauty. I checked to see if he was singing from the book. No. He was singing the words on his own. Singing those words not from memory but from somewhere else. From his spirit....the spirit that remains. The spirit that resides in each of us....
I heard it last night in his song....