Miracles and Blessings

I first heard "Miracles and Blessings" from a character played by actress Tamala.Jones. She had just been to some sort of party with her sisterfriends. As she was driving off, she waved out the window and hollered, "Miracles and Blessings, Ladies. Miracles and Blessings!"

It stuck with me. Since then, I use it as the closing for all of my personal emails and any internet message board posting.

I've also expanded it somewhat to say, "May your life be filled with miracles and your cup overflow with blessings."

Miracles and Blessings.

Two Roads Diverge

Which one do I take?

With 35 less than a month away, I find myself at a crossroads. I am slightly out of sorts and pondering which choice will be the right one for me.

I wish I could be more expressive about exactly how this not of 'something' feels in my tummy. I am thinking that more than anything, I just want to document how this 'something' is throwing me off balance. That way, I can look back at this later and better analyze what this 'something' is.

It's taking my focus off of the big picture.

And since I'm rambling and not really resolving anything or even making that much sense. I'm going to end this inadequate entry and do what I always do when I come to this kind of crossroad.

I am going to keep living, one heartbeat, one breath, one moment at a time.

Grab Bag - $1.00

Since I have a hodge podge of thoughts rolling around in my head this morning, I'm dumping them all in a grab bag.

Feel free to donate the one dollar fee to your favorite charity.

Big Medicine - Turned to TLC during my cardio time on the elliptical. It motivated me to do an extra ten minutes.

Donny Osmond - Has a big head and it's starting to become shaped like Jay Leno's.

Night Time Grazing - my secret sin.

My scale - It's at the back of my closet calling my name, but I refuse to acknowledge it until Sunday morning at 800a.

I'm taking my grandmother out to eat tonight. She wants to go to Red Lobster on Camp Creek. So, first time ever I am going to check out the nutritional values on their menu so that I will know what I am going to order before I go. (Oh, that also means that I need to plan to be calorie light all day today.)

I am really sleepy and don't want to go work out this morning. I am attempting to motivate myself with some Johnny Cochran type rhymes (btw - I am with Denise Brown on Fred Goldman being hypocritical and money hungry when it comes to publishing that book.)

Back to the Johnny Cochran rhymes...

I'm fat, I'm fat. Working out is where it's at.

Until my jeans fit, I must not quit.

And I could think of about 20 others, but I really would just be trying to delay that which must be done.

Miracles and Blessings.

Lane Bryant Boycott

I must say it.

I HATE LANE BRYANT!!!

Or more to the point, I hate the thought that I can actually fit some of the clothes that they make.

It all started when I was in Lerner - the store that is within in my price point for clothes shopping, but that I really don't like that much because the quality of their clothes are only acceptable at best.

At any rate - I was in Lerner and some time after my last shopping trip, their extra larges had been replaced by a size that I generously refer to as extra medium. Everything that I tried on hugged my 'bad area'.

In other words, held onto my two bellies and made me look like I was about three months into carrying twins - one above my belly button and one below. (Yes, I have the infamous belly crease - which I plan on devoting an entire post to at a later date.)

I can't even begin to describe the horror of the infamous 'mushroom top' when trying to fit into a pair of their jeans. I was forced to abandon the New York store and head to other 'pastures'. (And I do intentionally say pastures because at that particular moment, I felt like a cow.)

At Lane's, I was able to find blouses with enough material in them to hide the belly rolls. However, their jeans are cut in a way that just makes me look bad-bodied.

I mean - I know I had this two stomach thing going on, but the fit of Lane Bryant jeans just wiped away any resemblence of a figure - so I refuse to buy them.

With my commitment to better lifestyle and eating choices, I am bound and determined never to go into a Lane Bryant store to shop for myself again.

Ditto for Ashley Stewart.

Crack Addict

Yep. Those Weight Watchers snack cakes have crack in 'em.

So do Krispy Kreme Donuts.

They've got to.

It's the only explanation that I can come up for the fact that I'm jonesin' for 'em.

As it stands, I'm going to have to sue Weight Watchers and Dunkin' Donuts so that I can pay for the rehab that I am inevitably going to need because of their company policy of including highly addictive ingredients in their product.

How much in punitive damages do you think I could be awarded?

Hold the MAYO?!?!?

Seriously???

Hold the MAYO?!?!?!?

The MAYONNAISE?!?!? The Sandwich Glue!!! The "A-Sandwich-Just-Isn't-A-Sandwich" stuff that advertising legends are made of?!?!?

You're kidding, right???

Okay, so, I've started eating most of my sandwiches without mayo. And Lo and Behold, I really can't even tell it's not there. Well, except for the 18million calories that go with it.

Who knew???

Sweet Shots

It's official - I hate Chili's.

It's those SWEET SHOTS!!! Dammit!!!

Last night, I had one of each not realizing that the damn things average 250 calories each. Who would think that something that comes in a shot glass would have so many damn calories?

Looking back, I am just sick. I was over on calories by 500 yesterday. If I had eaten just one (and one would have been satisfying), I would have hit my upper calorie limit spot on.

Informed eating is so important.

But - they were DEE-LISH-US!!!!

Time to Make the Donuts

I remember the Dun.kin Donuts commercial where the guy would pull himself out of bed, half asleep, totally dragging, head to work and all the while motivating himself with the chant, "Time to make the donuts."

It was made circa 19-seventy-something-or-or-was-it-early-80s-when-I-was-a-kid.

Well, that's how I feel most mornings when it's time to get up and head to the fitness center so that I can meet my personal August challenge of cardio everyday.

When I get done, I feel like I can take over the world. But - before I get started, I feel like I have ten tons of lead in my drawers.

So, I'm sitting here with ten tons of lead in my drawers and I'm typing this entry to motivate myself. Is it working? Probably not so much, but here I am, still half asleep, going to log off and drag my rear up to the fitness center and make the donuts.

BTW - making donuts is so not a good metaphor for a weight loss lifestyle change..but for me...in this case...it works...lol!!!

I Almost Died Yesterday

Just kidding.

Seriously, though - the DSL service was out in my area until sometime during the middle of last night and I could not get online.

I could not check my email. I could not pay any bills. But MOST IMPORTANT - I could not logon to SPARKPEOPLE to track my doggone calories.

I had to resort to doing things the way I did before I had the internet. I HAD to write my meals down. I was forced to watch tv. I resorted to reading a book. I HAD to take a nap because I was about to pass out from boredom.

All of that before 730p, so - as a last ditch effor to keep my mind off the internet and to keep from committing hari kari, I took our resident little person (my sweetie's 4year old) out to the playground - which, due to the heat in Atlanta was nearly life threatening in and of itself.

This morning, I danced a little jig when I was able to get up and actually not see "Cannot Find Server." (I just want you to know that if I had been able to find Server on yesterday, I would have taken him outside and beat the brakes off of him - or not.)

If I alarmed you with my blog title, please accept my sincerest apologies, but feel my pain.

Sanity has returned to my world.

Pretty Mean Sister

PMS is a monster.

Or actually, more to the point, sJea is a monster with PMS.

My sweetie has been calling me "the meanest woman in the world" all week long.

Although I really have been TRYING to not bite his head off, the little things that he does the other three weeks of the month that I manage to find adorable are really sticking my craw this week. (What does "craw" mean anyway? - I'll have to look that up.)

AnTEEways...

between being snappy and sluggish and fighting off MAD cravings and top that off with the fact that in tracking my sodium intake that i am SO far off the charts that it's crazy...

it's suffice to day that momma is not happy this week.

and on the 100th day...she rose...

Yeah, I know.

It's been a minute, but I'm back.

I didn't die. I didn't fall off the face of the earth. I wasn't held hostage. I haven't been in a coma. I didn't enter the witness protection program. I was not asleep in a tomb.

Instead, I allowed myself to get caught up in the daily grind of a routine that didn't make enough room for all of the things that give me joy.

In the process, I lost almost three and a half months of my life. Let me explain what I mean by "lost". I didn't blog. I didn't write a single word. I have not taken the time to record the thoughts and events that recount my personal history. And as we all well know, we cannot always leave it to our memories to be the most accurate story teller.

I didn't write about my wonderful Christmas. I didn't tell you about the amazing spa experience that my sweetie created for me on New Years Day. I didn't agonize with you over the ten LONG days that I spent in Dallas at the end of January in class to become a certified mediator / facilitator.

I didn't tell you about the Valentines date that sweetie and I set up for the little boy - (he had BIG fun!!). I didn't express my outrage at the ex-girlfriend over calling MY house at 713a on a Thursday morning. I didn't rant and rave over having to ride roughshod over my softball team to get them to pay their team fees a full 6 weeks before the start of the season.

I didn't gush over the birthday brunch that I had at the Re.naissance Wa.verly one Sunday afternoon as I celebrated a friend with a group of the most fabulous and beautiful ladies. I didn't introduce you to Corey Ritter, my personal trainer. I also didn't report how he's been trying to kill me.

And I could go on, but that's what I mean by lost. What I lost was all of the truest parts of those events. I didn't take time to record what I was thinking, feeling and living as I was experiencing it. And here, now, trying to go back and remember those little bits of time, I cannot go back and pick up the pieces of those experiences that made an impact on me.

Quite frankly, that is too much information to process at one time. Too many emotions. Too many responses. Too many thoughts. Too many words. Too many conversations. Too many days. Too many minutes. Too many seconds.

Too much lost.

So, here I am a full hundred days (give or take) since the last time I posted.

Like the one who rose on the third day, I am reborn, resurrected, just like new, maybe even better.

And just so you know, in days to come, I may again seem to be buried under the routine of life, but...in the words of an Easter song my childhood choir used to sing and unlike The South...

I will rise again.

next post...Eden's Song