Another Church Softball Game

Today is Memorial Day and time for our annual Teen versus Adult Softball Game. Until this year, the adults have dominated the series 3-0. Time is a humorous thing. I read on one of my frozen juice treat sticks the following riddle: "What is everyone doing at the same time but at different rates? Growing old!" That certainly applied today. The teens gave us a Baptist bootie thrashing! I felt like one of those kids being taken out of church by daddy in the middle of the sermon yelling, "Is it gonna hurt bad?" What was the difference? The riddle, my friend, the riddle. The teens are growing bigger and stronger and smarter. The adults are growing bigger and...well, you get the picture. While the sweet smell of victory was wafting through the teens' dug-out, the ominous smell of sore muscle rub was permeating ours. No, it really wasn't that bad. The game was...they whipped us something like 21-4. A bit of pain reliever and we played a second game, this time with the teams mixed and matched, and the score was 29-24.

We played on the same kitty-litter field as last year. The first thing our "manager" Rickey said was I was leading off and playing catcher. I said, "No way! That's what I was doing when I hurt my leg last year!" I played outfield...in the nice, grassy outfield. And I played right or rover, where the only one who ever hit out there was the left-handed teen who put it over the fence. That was nice. No injuries. No humiliation. No tookus bouncing around homeplate. Yes, life is sweet.

You know what the best part of today was? I felt so much better than last year. I could run faster and I didn't get winded. I could hit the ball harder. It was wonderful. This helped me realize just what a year of working out and watching my diet has done for me. It gave me a sense of accomplishment and renewed determination to make this a life-long goal.

One last thing:

Happy 25th Anniversary to Eddie and Leah Costello!

Twenty-five years ago, I got mad at Eddie for taking my buddy away and moving her to Mobile, Alabama. He brought her back, so I got over it. Seriously, you guys have been such terrific friends to Dave and me for so many years, and I love you both.

Week 14D

I had to keep a promise. It was more like a compromise (or coercion, perhaps). Whatever it was, I had to fulfill my end of a bargain. One of my pixie-elf friends is Arlene. She's the one who opened a big ol' can of whoop-tookus on cancer. When her hair started growing back, I wanted to spike it. (It was just there...you know, just THERE). She said, "All right, Red, but under one condition...you let me straighten yours." I said, "That will be fine, because I can bring my shampoo, my gel, and my hair dryer and have my hair back to NORMAL in three minutes!" So, the deal was on.

Trying to spike her hair was an interesting endeavor. Everytime I would have it spiked or scattered, then she would stick her fingers up there and start smoothing it back down! She would say, "Julie, you're making it go ever-which-way!" (First of all, I didn't know that was a word...) Second of all, I would respond, "I know! It's SUPPOSED to do that!" Needless to say, she still fights her natural wave (she calls them cowlicks) and smooths it down as smooth as she can. However, she does have this really cool Halle Berry thing going on if she would just mess it up a bit!

After "Dip Night" and "Phantom of the Opera" I let her try and straighten my hair. She would take that hot flat ceramic torture device, come toward my head, and snap it shut. All I could see was all of those documentaries on great white shark feeding frenzies. She worked for a bit, complaining that I had "too much hair" so Nina gave it a shot. She straightened a bit, then Cindy came on board. Of course, Cindy had to bring in the mother-tone, "You'd better stop jumping every time we come at you with this or you will get burned, now be still!" Respecting my elders as I do, I complied.
After the three of them worked on my hair for what seemed 15 to 20 minutes they were finished. It looked stupid. Arlene kept saying, "It's so silky..." but it was boring. Just this little red poof on top of my head. It looked like I was wearing a batting helmet! Thank God for my friendly hair with lots of waves!

Yesterday, I had my hair cut again. I finally did it. I took the last step in my hair destination. I got the chicken-butt hair cut! That's what they called it, honestly! It's wedged up the back and looks like the north end of a south bound hen! Now this is what I call fun hair!!! Maybe that could be my YaYa name..."Princess Banty Butt" or "Goddess of Poultry 'Dairy-Hair'." They could refer to me as "Your Cornish Hiney!" On second thought...no, I don't like the way this is going.

I went to UAMS this week but did not know they changed their hours. I bought my supplements but could not weigh in, so I have no update. I probably gained, though. I'm really lovin me some popsicles right now!

I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT!

I told my husband today that God's best blessings to me have come in my relationships. I am married to my best friend. My 4 year old son likes me most of the time. I have a great mom who is so unintrusive and just such a cool lady. I have a loving and supportive extended family, most of whom are sane, and the ones who aren't sure do add a lot of color to the family. I work in a tremendous practice with such Godly people. My church family is remarkable. And my friends...so many wonderful, intimate friends. I've heard that if you have one or two good friends in your adult life, you are blessed. Well, I have enough for 4 or 5 lifetimes because I have some absolutely incredible friendships.

Within my friendships, four of us (myself, Cindy, Arlene, and Nina) get together regularly. Food always is involved somewhere. Sometimes we try to watch a movie, but usually we talk right through it. And, somewhere in the discussion, at least one of them tells me I reveal "too much information" but that's just because they are older and their poor old hearts just don't have the stamina to keep up with the conversation. (Oh, I am so giggling my hiney off right now!) I usually am the one who says something that shocks everyone, simply because they can't believe I actually said what I did. (Come on, girls! You know me! When will you stop being shocked?) Well, tonight it wasn't me. Nope, this time I was innocent.

Let me set the stage...we were having "Dip Night." We had been stuffing ourselves with crab dip, spinach dip, and something Cindy called seven-layer dip. I brought fruit. I turned around to stab another pineapple chunk when Nina said, "Oh, I'm about to pop!" I thought, "Well, stop eating then!" But when I turned around, I saw it. A gorgeous diamond ring on the all-important fourth finger of her left hand.

Nina is ENGAGED!

We are all so very happy for her. God brought into her life a dear, kind, thoughtful man who gets as much enjoyment doing things for others as she does (which is hard to believe). He's definitely a keeper. I've just got one thing to say:

Marty, you CAN'T get married at Niagra Falls!

Go there for your honeymoon...push her over in a barrel if you want to (who could blame you?!). But you just have to get married here!

Seriously, Nina and Marty, I pray God's richest blessings for your life together and am thankful I get to share in your joy.

Week 13D

Have you ever had a wild hair up your hiney? I got one and bought one of those lateral thigh strider contraptions. It's a small torture device known as home exercise equipment. It's like walking on a swinging staircase. When I first get on it, I feel like a drunk sailor on roller skates in a hurricane on that thing. Then, I get the hang of it, and I feel like one of those table dancers from "Laugh In." You know, Goldie Hawn's first gig. I keep waiting for Dave or Jadyn to come to the garage and paint words or symbols on my legs.

You know, that's an idea. I could rent advertisement space on my legs, like that guy who sold his forehead space on eBay. Wonder who would buy it? I'm sure an attorney or insurance agent would buy some because they advertise everywhere. Collision insurance sold on me left bum cheek and a personal injury attorney on me right bum cheek. A car dealership or two on one thigh and a wrecker service on the other. Of course, food would have to be on there somewhere...Fast food on the left calf and a buffet with tour bus parking available on my right. The latest movies playing on both knee caps, and there ya go. A walking...er, wobbling billboard.

Anyway! As much as I complain about that machine, I really like it. I pop in a load of laundry and hop on contraption. In less than five minutes, I've done 500 reps. I can tell a difference, too. Even though I don't use it for cardio, I do get a good burst. The only problem is getting off the thing. I'm still wobbling! I walk through the house trying to get my land-lubber legs back, and Dave says, "Been using your thigh thing?" On the outside I'm smiling while answering his question and telling him how glad I am that he noticed and how supportive he is and how much that means to me...GUSH GUSH GUSH! But, on the inside I'm saying, "Bite me!" Do you believe that?! You shouldn't! I never gush. I come straight back with a "Bite me!" on the outside where everyone can hear it!

No weigh-in this week but for a very good reason, not the passive-aggressive ones I usually use. Couldn't weigh-in on Tuesday or Thursday because of Jadyn's T-ball game. Couldn't weigh-in on Wednesday because I had to get back early to prepare for the Awana closing program. I'll have a report next week.

Week 12D

I wore my colorful pants to work this week. They are bright blue with bright pink and orange tropical flowers and bright green palm-type leaves. A girl with whom I work said that I should wear them to Hawaii. I told her she was crazy. I can just see a family of parrots taking up residence in my backside. Small animals and birds (emphasis on the word SMALL) would be so confused. Talk about not being able to tell one's backside from a hole in the ground. I can hear it now. "Chirp! Is that our home or those dad-blasted pants again?" And, oh, I can't even bear the thought of going to a luau in those things. Wouldn't catch me dead eating an apple!

Wearing these britches truly is a multisensory experience. First of all, they are loud...very LOUD. "Just how loud are they?" you ask. Let's just say these pants really do need to come equipped with their own volume control knob. Second, they are bright...very BRIGHT. "Just how bright?" you ask. Let's just say ships would follow them on a stormy night. Third, let's not forget the olfactory system. Those flowers are so vibrant you can almost smell them. Yes, they smell GOOD. Fourth, they feel so comfortable to wear. Finally, they taste...er, um, on second thought, I'm not going there!

Seriously, my change in clothing has been quite noticeable, mainly because it is so opposite of what I've been hiding in. For so long, I have hidden in my clothes. I've worn things too big so they wouldn't reveal parts of my body I'd just as soon keep hidden. I didn't want to be arrested for unlawful assembly...Too much of me gathered in one place, if you know what I mean. Most of my clothes were very dark, like I wanted to blend into the shadows or something. Now, my clothes couldn't be more opposite. They fit and are colorful. I must be feeling better about myself because I've not been concerned about looking like the side of the Partridge Family bus.

By the way, the new total is 28.1 pounds!

Week 10D or 11D (I think I lost a week somewhere!)

I have a new addiction. Flavor-Ice and Grape Nuts. I never have eaten them before, but since I've been on this diet, not an evening goes by that I don't have Flavor-Ice and Grape Nuts. It's like an evening ritual. I've made it into an art form, really. (Some would call it compulsive, but I prefer to call it perfected.) I know just where to snip those little Flavor-Ice plastic tubes to get obtain a complete opening and maximize the amount of ice. I know just how much ice to push out the top to get all the juicy out and still be able to use it as a straw to get the juicy that runs to the bottom. I have a pattern to the flavors I eat -- Grape, Blue Raspberry, Cherry, then Strawberry. It's just a frozen fruity fountain of flavor to my taste buds.

Then, it's time for the Grape Nuts. Now, I have to explain this from the beginning to help you really get a grasp on my addiction. I know this is what some of you (you know who you are) label as "TMI" (Too Much Information). You see, at the beginning of the diet, the nurse told me that I may experience some bowel irregularlity in either direction. I never have had trouble in this area in my life! I like my predictability. I didn't want that side effect. So, I looked around for something that would help. Grape Nuts seemed like the perfect food. You can't get much rougher than those little unrefined whole grains, and as rough as they are, they were bound to clear something out! So, I started my Grape Nuts ritual (yes, with skim milk). Now, I love them! I love the crunch. I love the texture. I love the taste. Just writing this is making me homesick so I can go pour up a bowl. And speaking of pouring up a bowl, I love the sound those little bits of grain make when they hit my bowl. clink clink clink...you KNOW when your food makes that noise it MUST be good for you! Yep, I love me some Grape Nuts.

Is this comfort eating? Absolutely! I am completely comfortable when I eat Flavor-Ice and Grape Nuts. Is it emotional eating? Sure! I'm getting excited just thinking about them. Is it addictive eating? You try taking them away from me and then answer that question.

Besides, I've lost 25 pounds. (Just watch someone take this and run with it and we'll see the Flavor-Ice Grape Nuts Miracle Diet on every tabloid cover at the grocery store, right next to the candy bars and gum.)